#great time to love all 5 of those men
Text
I just need you to know this story has had me in a chokehold and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it. This is gonna be a weird smutty slow burn, so still smut every post but full p in v sex will be a reward you have to work for?
⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall
Part 1 - Pretty in Redsmut💦
Part 2 - Liar smut💦
Part 3 - A Tragedysmut💦
Part 4 - Enough
Part 5 - Too Much
Part 6 - Learning smut💦
A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.
「warnings/tags: HumanAlastor x FemaleReader, implied attempt to SA, fingering, plot with porn?, Multi part work, bad kind of choking, blood kink, blood licking, just in general blood, Non-Sex repulsed Ace Spectrum Alastor, stalking, murder obvs, finger sucking, smoking kinda kills if you squint, Public sex acts, garter belt, You have a stage name but no one important uses it, Greed, Lust, Human Alastor is a little different than Demon Alastor. 」
minors dni 💅🏽
Part 1 Pretty in Red
The marriage between burlesque and jazz wasn’t unexpected. Before the Great Depression took the nation into a stranglehold, both Jazz and Burlesque were immoral wastes of time only the most barbaric sought out.
And oh, did you love it. Everyone who was made to feel like nobody flocked to your theater and the surrounding neighborhood. Men, women, the people who didn’t agree with either. The biblically inclined, those closer to sodom, the sapphic dolls. Everyone was equal in the halls of jazz rooms and theatres where burlesquers were welcome.
Because of the inclusive nature of such places, you often saw familiar faces. It wouldn’t be unusual for someone from Thursday night to be seen Saturday at a different locale.
That presented certain opportunities and challenges. When you found a good mark, it was easy to be wherever he was and play it off as fate and common interests.
And when you gained a new stalker, someone wanting a personal show, it could be hard to tell until it was too late.
Maybe it was your greed, or just your love of attention, but you found yourself focused almost entirely on a particularly well dressed man one evening. You’d seen him around before. Clean cut, sharp suit, a welcoming smile always on display. He looked like he had money, the most attractive quality of any man you could meet.
So focused on his gleaming stare from the side booths you hadn’t noticed the man at the stage front tables. You barely noticed him the night before, or the night before that, either. Because Smiles, as you took to calling the handsome stranger in the back, had been here three nights now too.
You really put on a show. Shimmying your hips, ostrich feathers following suit with every move. Your brassiere was heavy with shining rhinestones, panties of silk and lace. Your set was almost done, all that was left was to remove your top and slink away behind the curtains to hollers and whistles. Back turned, you unhooked the painful bra and let it fall to the stage with a clunk. Foot in front of foot, you stalked the stage length. With your hand hidden from view you took the feathered fan from the stagehand behind the curtain. As the music crescendoed you turned, fan unfurling just in time to hide yourself.
Groans, mass begging from the audience. Your stage name a chant now, a prayer. “Autumn! Come on!”
As the band slowed, music dying to mark the end of your number, you scanned the crowd. Eyes blinking coyly, you mouthed, “More? Did you want more?”
People were jumping to their feet, not Smiles but that was fine, you were focused now on the adoration of the crowd. The music ended, a second of silence.
You winked, the drums hitting one last beat as you let the fan close.
Fanfare! Men whistling, women clapping. Someone shouted a marriage proposal. You took a bow, twirled on the balls of your feet and slipped gracefully behind the curtains.
Your hands wound to your spine, rubbing blood flow back into your skin as the staff removed your headdress. Someone slipped your robe over you and you nodded a thanks, aching feet carrying you to the dressing room. It was chaos, as usual. Women buzzing around, tits and ass here and there. You smiled. You happened to enjoy this part of the job. Soft bodies in shiny costumes, lovely smells and sweet voices. If you could get dressed quickly enough, you could still take a tour of the room and slide into Smiles’ booth.
“Enjoy the show?” You’d ask. He’d lean in, maybe blush, “Always when you’re here.” Or something like that. You’d cozy up to him, flag down a waiter for something strong and pricey, and get him properly drunk. He’d wake up outside, fine and dandy except his missing cash.
You’ll call him a drunkard if he confronts you, accuse him of getting himself robbed after you refused his advances. You’ll say it too loudly, and he’ll run off.
You danced a little in your seat, another game of cat and mouse about to commence. But first, a smoke.
Unbeknownst to you, the well dressed man hadn’t come to see you. He preferred your singing shows at the little dive bar two blocks over. No, he had come for the man at the front table. For weeks now, he had watched him harassing the ladies of the few joints in New Orleans that weren’t regularly hounded by police. Your smiley mark even heard stories of unsavory acts, many women leaving the dance scene entirely after.
He didn’t care for it. He didn’t care for him. So he took to his hunt, following the man to come to his own conclusions. The pattern of behavior was obvious, and though he hadn’t seen what ended the last obsession, it was clear one of the performers at this club was being stalked as the next victim.
He watched your dance with half lidded eyes, just as much as he watched the man give dirty looks to the other men cheering. Heard the, “Marry me!” shouted at you.
Yes, it was obvious to him now.
So when the target of his interest got up and pushed his way into a staff only door, well, the well dressed man was sure to follow.
The great thing about confidence and a nicely tailored suit is that no one questions you about why you are where you are. So while the brute he tailed had to shove past people to get wherever he was going, people smiled and made room for the gentleman who was not far behind.
He caught the street access door before it closed, allowing it to stay open just a sliver. Enough for one golden brown eye to watch the events unfold.
“Can I have a light?” The stranger asked you. You looked at him, then to the staff only entrance he just came out of.
“I don’t think I know you….,” you handed him the lighter but he instead leaned into you, cigarette hanging from his lips. “You… new?”
You sparked the flint with a practiced thumb, taking three tries to get it lit, and put your hand out. The man didn’t budge, eyebrows rising, “You really don’t recognize me?” He asked, motioning with his hand to come closer. Your eyes glanced down the alley, cars slowly moving past the street. When you looked back, the man took your wrist in his hand. He held you so tightly that the muscles in your palm locked and you dropped the lighter.
“What the fu-,” his hand came across your face, halting your sentence.
“I’m your best customer. Every show. I’m the one who brings flowers.”
Dozens of men bring flowers, especially on the weekend shows. You held your cheek, skin burning. Your hand pulled back, the corner of your lip bleeding from his rings. Scrambling, your mind was searching for the right words.
With a forced smiled, your shaky voice finally piped up, “Oh! Yeah! Oh geez. I am so sorry, doll. I’m just so tired, and the alley is so dark. Here, let’s go inside so I can get a better look at you.” You tried to take your wrist from him but he didn’t loosen up.
“Nah, you ain’t tricking me. You owe me.” He pulled you into him, large hand gripping your face with ease, “You can’t lead on men like this and think you don’t gotta answer for it.” He kissed you, forcing your face into his. “Bitch! Did you fucking bite me?” He threw you into the tin trash cans beside the wall, knocking the wind out of you.
No purse, no sharp object, not even a heeled shoe to defend yourself with. You cursed, so preoccupied with Smiles you forgot your wits.
You spit out the copper saliva, his blood and yours. “I’ll keep biting, too.”
Why scream? The sounds of the next act were bouncing off the brick walls. Upbeat jazz and applause echoing around you. No one would hear you. Men can break your body but you never had to give them your dignity. Never give them the satisfaction of a response.
No. No screaming. You instead spent your energy trying to get to your feet. He took hold of your neck now, throttling you. It wasn’t what you had expected, but as he lifted you off the ground and your little dressing room slippers fell off, you thought this was actually better.
“Well I think that’s quite enough.”
You felt warmth, then registered wetness. Your shin scraped on the asphalt as you were dropped without warning. Trying to open your eyes, you found you couldn’t see. Wiping and blinking away the foreign liquid, you watched your attacker fall to his knees.
Blood was shooting from between his fingers around his own neck, each pulse becoming weaker and weaker, evident through the stream.
When he finally fell over, drained, you were startled to see another man with you. The light reflected off his glasses as he adjusted them, the knife still in his right hand as he did so.
“My, my. What a mess he’s made.” The man smiled down at you, offering a hand. When you didn’t immediately react, he cocked his head to the left, “Is that anyway to treat your rescuer?”
Is that was this was? A rescue? You took his hand with both of yours, pulling yourself up.
Smiles? You blinked away the shock, time to shift into your next part. Damsel. You weren’t out the woods yet.
“You saved my life!” As you pressed yourself into his chest, you tucked your head beneath his chin. You tried to make yourself small. “I owe you! Please let’s go inside, drinks on me!” You looked up, batting your lashes.
“I don’t think that’s wise, dear.” His gaze panned down your dress, soaked through. He could see the thinking behind your eyes.
“No, right….,” You gripped his vest, “We gotta get outta here, fast. There’s a hotel just behind the threatre.” You started to pull his suit jacket off, slipping it over yourself. “No cops, the theatre will get raided. Just— take me somewhere safe?”
You watched him look you over, arm finally extending to let you hook yours with his.
As soon as the hotel door closed behind you, you slipped off his jacket and ran to the dressing table mirror.
Your face was painted red, navy dress now black and sticky. It was good you stayed from view of the reception staff. “I didn’t get my rescuer’s name,” you licked your thumb and rubbed at the blood around your cheeks.
“Alastor. It’s a pleasure.”
You laughed, “Is that what you call a pleasure?” Turning, you pulled the mostly still dry handkerchief from your pocket and dabbed the corner on your tongue. You brought it up to the frame of his glasses and wiped the blood from the metal. “I’d hate to see what you call a bad time.”
Your hand slowed, noticing the way he was looking at you. Typically men’s pupils were blown when they fell on you, but his were constricted. They flitted around your face. His hand took hold of yours, fingers separating the thumb from the handkerchief. He pulled the little square of yellow fabric free with his other hand, allowing him to hold your thumb now by itself.
His lips opened, tongue licking the blood stained finger before placing it directly into his mouth.
Your stared, horrified, as he sucked the digit clean.
His eyes fluttered close, finger popping out of his mouth with a debauched sound. You made no attempt to take back your hand. The realization you may have hopped out of the frying pan and into the fire set in.
“You are a funny one, aren’t you?” You tried to sound as in control as possible. Calm. Unwavered. Offered a timid smile.
He chuckled, “You could say that. May I?” His fingers lifted your chin. You didn’t know what he was asking. His soft smile looked downright loving. He smelled so good, notes of something earthy rising above the copper.
You nodded, because part of you wanted to see where it would go. And part of you thought you didn’t have a choice.
As his face came to yours, you instinctually closed your eyes expecting a kiss. But no, instead you felt his tongue wipe across the cut at the corner of your mouth. His breath blanketed your cheek. Then his hand left your chin, the warmth of his body gone entirely.
You opened your eyes to see him at the door, slipping back into his jacket, “I’ll pay for the night.” He tipped his head to you and exited the room back first, eyes locked with yours until the door closed.
You just stood there in the silence left behind. But as if on cue, the adrenaline waned and your knees buckled under you. You were moments from death, now somehow spared. But what had he— Alastor, been doing there? Did he follow you, too? The cat and mouse had been flipped, or perhaps now this was a fox and hound?
Gripping the dressing table, you pulled yourself up and into the view of the mirror again. Face streaked in dried blood save for the one clean spot where your lips met cheek.
You felt like a ghost the next day. It would be nice to tell someone about what happened but, “Hey a man tried to kill me and then another man killed him! Then he licked blood off my face and I let him. It was the most disturbingly erotic thing to happen to me in months!” would get you tossed into a wagon.
“Are you rude or just stupid?” The theatre manager pulled you aside by the arm when you came into rehearsal. “You can’t just disappear like that, people were waiting.”
Your eyes narrowed, “Was… my absence really the most exciting part of the evening? Not the John in the gutter?”
He huffed, “So that’s it? Got a beau?”
“Wait— nothing else happened last night? After I left?”
“This show doesn’t revolve around you. Plenty happened.”
“Excuse me,” you hurried into the back, “And sorry!”
You opened the street access door and looked into the alley. Trash cans neat and tidy, no dead man, nothing strange or telltale.
You ducked back inside. Had Smiles done this? Obviously, actually. No stranger just cleaned up the dead body. If the flatfeet had found him, the club would have been under scrutiny.
Good, you thought, and went about your work.
Rehearsal dragged on. Little details summoning you back to the night before.
“You okay?” Another performer asked, grabbing your hand and inspecting the blood around your cuticles.
“Oh it’s not mine!” You laughed, she laughed, you walked off before she could clarify.
When applying your makeup, you remembered his hands on your face. They were so soft. Definitely a man of means. A brief intrusive thought, the other hands on your face last night.
You pranced on stage, going through the motions of your routine. Even in the empty hall, your eyes wandered to the booth he’d been in. And as you took the stage in earnest later that night you searched the crowd for the glint of his glasses and found nothing shiny nor promising.
Back in the dressing room you took a moment to wonder what the actual fuck you we’re doing. He murdered a man in front of you, why were you hoping to see him again? He had half a mind to kill you next.
But would that really be so bad? Your life was routine, boring even. The only thing keeping your lungs expanding was the applause. Maybe the headlines of your death would cause such an uproar, dancer struck down in her prime, that you could bask in the loving glow all the way from hell.
One way to remain famous, you considered. A dramatic death.
Not that you were famous. You weren’t part of the national circuits. Just your local theatres, a common face and body to the sinners of Louisiana’s most infamous city. But, well, fame is relative. For the scene you were in, you were your own little star.
A shining light. Shimmering. The faint light reflecting off— Blood. For a second you could only remember looking through bloodied, heavy lashes.
“You’ve been so out of it. Trouble in paradise?” Ruth, the curviest of your coworkers and arguably the favorite of the crew, rested her chin on your head. Looking at each other in the mirror, you offered a soft smile.
“I’ll letcha know when I get there.”
She pinched your cheek, “Tommy said you had a new guy. I just figured-,”
“That isn’t,” you clenched your eyes shut, “no, no guy. I just got locked out last night in the alley. The sticky-,” sticky and viscous blood, “back door wouldn’t open up. I didn’t want to come in the front in my slippers so I just hoofed it home.”
She patted your head, “if you say so! Be careful out there though. Dangerous these days.”
An understatement.
You enjoyed the spotlight, but more than that you craved the attention doted on you after. You’d walk through the hall to the bar to adoring looks and free drinks. It bothered you that Tommy was telling the girls you had a man. You didn’t want to appear too closed off, or for word to spread to the customers.
Last thing you needed was men passing you by for more available options. Not that the pay wasn’t fine. Ends were being met, but grifting added an element of thrill. You really did love the chase. Finding someone and deciding he would be yours, he would fall under your spell and be at your feminine mercy. It made you feel powerful, almost mythical. And the money was nice. Sometimes you didn’t even need to steal, the men would just lavish you in gifts and you’d let it fizzle out naturally. Normally their wives would snatch them back or they’d just get tired of waiting for you to leave the stage and dance into their domestic dreams. A housewife? An adopted mother to a grown man during the day, a hungry nymph at night? For what, an allowance and a home you didn’t own? Pass. Where’s that handsome man with his knife? That was a much better steel to fall onto than what these men offered from their laps.
From your view at the bar you knew he wasn’t there. But with a nod you decided the chase was still on. You were going to get your victory. If anything, this would be easier. You had dirt on him. Blackmail would be simple enough. Bloody clothes and the perfect alibi; being a woman. No cop would think you took down that hulking man.
Ah, right. There was no body.
That would be an issue. He had to have taken it somewhere. Just find him and follow. Worst case scenario, you play the usual game and steal whatever cash was in his wallet.
Well, worst case you die.
You slept sitting up to keep your hair set, during the day your makeup barely was there but a red lip always the star. You had three nice dresses (well, you had had four) so you figured three nights to find him before moving on.
You slinked through the crowds of the hot and sweaty dance club Moxie. Swinging music kept bodies moving, and though you kept your eyes open you didn’t catch sight of this Alastor fellow. Which was fine! You enjoyed a few dances, swing always making you feel energized. Not a waste of a Friday night.
Saturday was easy, the lounge on fifth. Smooth jazz, plush chairs, rich men. Definitely a place you could imagine Smiles to frequent. The whisky was all top shelf, and many gentlemen offered you a lap to sit. Sure, no Alastor, but you didn’t go home empty handed.
You weren’t a particularly great singer, but if the room was small enough and the piano loud enough, you could please a crowd. Your friend had you on a semi-set schedule most Sundays at her little dive too many blocks from Main Street. Her darling played piano, you sat and sang to the couple dozen patrons stuffed into the one room bar. When you finished your set, you took your bows and looked for your friend. You needed to tell her you wouldn’t be staying.
Your polite nods and gracious thank yous were abruptly ended by a tap on your shoulder, “You dropped this, miss.” You did a mental check of your purse before turning around.
“Oh, a sight for sore eyes. Mr. Alastor.” Your face lit up, you could see it in his glasses.
“You’re too kind. Here, I apologize for the delay. I wanted to return them clean.” In his hand was your yellow handkerchief, folded neatly. You took it and found it uncharacteristically heavy.
When you unfurled it, your brass lighter fell into your waiting palm. Your thumb caressed the engraving.
Alastor watched your face as the lighter tumbled out. “I figured it was important, given the condition and detailing.”
You tested the weight in your hand, “Did you fill it?” You looked to him incredulously. He nodded.
It was a surprisingly kind act, and you needed a second to regain your composure. “I don’t know how to thank you.” Your quick wit failed for a moment, but rebounded fast. “Except with a drink. My treat. To my rescuer.”
He mulled the idea, your reaction to him was interesting. Alastor had thought if he approached you first you’d show a little more fear, or shock. But you looked downright chipper to see him there.
“Unfortunately I don’t have much time tonight. I had just wanted to return your items.”
Your smile dropped. How did he know you were here? Had he been carrying— no, he said he had them cleaned. Had he seen you here before, before the incident? A chuckle, smile brought back, “My luck is terrible. You always flee me. I hope you don’t see my company as deadweight.”
Alastor’s smile twitched, eyes hidden behind the glare of his glasses, “Not at all! I think you’d find I’m quite comfortable with-.”
“Lugging people around?” You said. That constricted pupil again, eyes wild. A chill ran down your spine. Alarms were going off. Wrong answer. You straightened your back, popping the items into your purse, “Next time.”
Alastor nodded, “Yes. Next time, then.”
You fucked it up. You knew you had, but suddenly his words felt like a thinly veiled threat.
You turned to leave and hadn’t seen his smile sour.
It hadn’t been a threat. He hadn’t anticipated you to notice the implication. Most people would have been so blinded by his charm they would fail to notice the glaring red flags. He was mildly impressed. You would be more trouble than he had expected.
Alastor knew he needed to do something about the clearly clever woman who was seemingly expecting him. He had followed you for several days, surprised to find you not spreading word about the murder. You hadn’t spoken to anyone, really. Even the man you left the lounge with, you just smiled and nodded nearly all evening while the man dominated the conversation. So, your sharp wit took him off guard. Who were you pretending to be? And why?
All of your cleverness fell apart when you tried to follow him. It was almost comical. He felt bad. This was going to be embarrassing for you.
He took several right turns and stepped into the park just outside of the bar. You thought perhaps he had gotten lost and considered turning around after you realized you’d lost sight of him. As you passed a large weeping willow, you were pulled under the curtains of hanging moss by your waist.
Back against the large tree, you could only pout.
“What are you after, stalking a man in the dead of night?” Alastor had you pinned, both hands on either side of your head. His body boxed you in, not that there was much more to see than moss and darkness.
You blinked several times. What a question. You answered honestly, “You.” He cocked a brow. Then you lied, “Your affection. Your time.”
Something akin to a giggle bubbled from his chest. “I don’t have much affection, but I have even less time.” Your eyes darted around, looking for your next move. “I-,” you grabbed him by the face and kissed him. When you broke the kiss he was staring wide eyed, glasses askew. He opened his mouth to speak and you kissed him again, longer, harder.
He seemed frozen under your mouth, lips taut. Your hands roamed his face, messing up his hair and glasses. Mind reeling. Play the nymph. Be the whore the men always said they hated. Be too strong, too forward, too much and he’ll run off like men do. You could try again another day.
Your hand reached for his lap, his hips instinctively jerking away. Perfect. Men these days can’t get it up for a woman who takes the lead.
Alastor was entirely unsure what the fuck was happening. You were wildly unpredictable. When you grabbed at his dick, he thought his eyes would cross from the shock. Is this what ‘affection’ meant to you? He couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t understand you. Were you really just lustful? Even after what you’d seen him—
You bit at his bottom lip, pulling slightly. Big eyes looking back at him. Your breath was already running away from you, adrenaline seemingly synonymous with Alastor. Staring up at him, you waited. His move.
It was his turn to blink. He looked off to his left, eyes swinging back to you. With a shrug, he leaned his body back towards yours. His hand slid down the front of your dress; red silk. A deer in the headlights, you tensed. The rare third option; fight, flight, freeze. Soon his fingers were tracing the lace of your stockings, climbing up the garter straps.
His eyes were studying your face. You didn’t want to give the wrong answer again, but at this point you weren’t sure any answer was right. This was taking a sudden turn and your foot was off the brake. You closed your eyes, opting out of the scrutiny of his stare. His hand met your stomach and began to slip down again. He rested it between your thighs, longer fingers and palm cupping the entirety of your sex.
Alastor struggled to decipher your expression. It was almost like a pout, but more subtle. You hadn’t said stop or pushed him away yet. Was he right? You were just… horny? As his hand slid back up and pried their way into your panties, you trembled.
It had been so long since someone else’s hand was on you. Someone whose hands you genuinely enjoyed, who you wanted to be on you.
Is that right? You wanted him to touch you?
Maybe it was the stare, or the smile. Probably just the adrenaline.
His hand found its place again, middle finger bending to part your folds and feel your wetness. You whimpered, hand coming to cover your own mouth.
“Is this what you wanted?” He said it low, a husky tone he didn’t have before.
No. Maybe. You nodded yes.
“Will you be satisfied now? No more tailing me?”
No. Probably not. Another nod.
His finger pushed in, and with a kind of greed you didn't recognize your hips ground down into his palm. He slipped in and out of you with ease. You had no idea when or why you got so wet.
“I always end up dripping around you, Alastor,” you whispered through your fingers. His ring finger joined. Why couldn’t you shut up? Why did you have to bring up, well, the murder?
“A common problem for those I take an interest in.”
Oh no. You moaned softly into your hand. Sharp mind made dull by his fingers so you didn’t, couldn’t, process his double meaning.
Oh no. The sounds of footsteps, a pair of lovers sneaking into the park for privacy. You heard their giggles, the sounds of kisses interrupting their walking.
“Shhh”, he breathed into your ear as he worked a third finger into your heat. One knuckle, two knuckles. A whimper. His hand came to press down over your own on your mouth, a second barrier for your mewling. You groaned, the sound coming from your throat.
Whispers. The silhouette of the two interlopers was visible through the willow’s curtains. You watched from over his shoulder, pussy clenching around him. Three knuckles deep, bottoming out.
Fuck it. You moaned freely into your hand, wiggling down onto his hand. Hips rolling, you let your little sounds of praise flow.
The couple laughed, “That’s the spirit!” A man said, a woman hushing him and pulling him away.
Alastor grinned into your neck, immensely amused. He would have better luck predicting a dice roll than your next move.
You hadn’t realized how hollow you’d been until now, feeling so full. When alone, you focused on just cumming, fingers on your clit and mind on memories. You never bothered much with anything else.
Your hunger intensified. You wanted more. Both hands reached for his crotch again, finding nothing there for you. You could have cried. How were you a wet mess pressed against a tree and he was soft as a newspaper in a rainstorm?
Your pride stung. Men usually stood at attention around you. A half sob into the air earned you a chuckle from Alastor. “It’s no reflection of you, darling.” His nose nudged your ear lobe, “I need a little different stimulation than most.”
“Do you play for the other team?” You considered how you could momentarily switch.
A louder laugh, “I don’t have a team.” He leaned back now to look at you. His freehand came to press on your lower stomach, gently pushing your womb down. Your brows knit, why did that feel so good? Hands going to the tree behind you for stability.
“Sure feels like you know how to play. This is-,” his hand switched from thrusting slowly in and out to moving front and back. It sent vibrations up into you. Your eyes rolled close. Shut up. Stop talking. Focus. Close.
He kissed around your open mouth, “Well, it’d be unamerican to not dabble. When necessary, or when the conditions are right.”
Double speak over, “Just tell me what to do to get you to fuck me.”
Alastor’s head fell back as he laughed earnestly, most likely alerting anyone in the immediate area. “Ha! No, this is more fun.”
“Oh fuck you,” you brought a hand around to your throbbing clit to quicken your release.
“Maybe next time, dear.” He took a second, fingers in you sliding around your walls in search of something before finding his place and continuing. Your breath noticeably changed, instead of panting you were practically holding it in. You needed the pressure, you needed something to squeeze that spring of pleasure down so it could snap back. As your face went flush, he kissed at your temple, “You look so pretty in red.”
“Oh god-,” Your head fell onto his chest, your joint effort bringing you to orgasm.
“A little late on Sunday for prayers, don't you think?”
A tiny scream into his suit pocket, his hand not stopping until your thighs finished twitching around him. Even after his hand stopped moving you gripped him by the wrist and rolled onto his fingers a few more times. The pleasure ebbing but still spiking every time he moved against you.
Ah, greed. That was it. He understood a little better. This wasn’t lust, not alone. You were definitely a mix of the two. With a sigh, you released your hold and let him slide out of you. Already you felt lonelier. Already you wished to start over.
With his dry hand he smoothed out your dress. You weren’t ashamed but you suddenly felt too embarrassed to look him the eye. But you did, hearing him hum as he sucked his fingers clean.
Why were you only ever in his mouth in the strangest ways?
“You always taste so sweet, dear. Now!” You wanted to say something clever and salacious like, ‘there’s more where that came from’ but he didn’t afford you the opportunity. He offered you his hooked arm, “It’s dangerous in the park at night. Let’s get you to a cab and on your way home.”
“Is this a hobby of yours?” Your legs were wobbly but otherwise fine. “Illegal activities in public?”
“Funny, I was just wondering the same of you. Stalking is a crime, dear.”
You bit your lip. “Touché.”
He flagged down a taxi, “Tell him where to go.” You slid into the back seat and half-whispered to the driver. Alastor leaned into the passenger side front window and after paying the man, went to close your door, “You’ve been an entertaining sparring partner. Goodbye, sweetheart.”
With a thud of the door and a growl of the engine, you were driving away from him. You could see him in the rear window. He didn’t dare to move, he didn’t need you following another step of his.
Which was unfortunate for him, as you were already scheming how to find him again.
༻Masterlist༺
∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):
@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,
@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @angelicwillows
🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions
#hazbin hotel#alastor#alastor smut#alastor x reader#alastor x you#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor x reader smut#hazbin hotel fanfiction#fanfiction#hazbin#x you#x reader#hazbinhotel#reader insert#reader fic#smut writer#smut fanfiction#human alastor#smut writing#x you smut
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Okay, let's talk about the sex scene. This is going to be a quite lengthy post but bear with me. I've been keeping this in for the past 2 days.
1. In the beginning of the Paris hotel scene, Henry did say that they should make love. Keyword: "make love". There's a difference between fucking and making love.
2. Alex was a bit nervous because it was his first time to do this. In the book, they just do blowjobs during their first few encounters and it's also the same in the movie. Alex hasn't tried any sex with penetration, especially with a man. But Henry was so understanding, he guided Alex physically and emotionally how to exactly make love.
3. The sigh that Henry let out after guiding Alex with his hand to push down deeper... that was so fucking cinematic and perfect! He literally was teaching Alex to learn his body, when to move, and what pleasures him. Also, that little nod he did once Alex was inside him, that's consent!
4. Matthew Lopez (director) and Robbie Taylor Hunt (intimacy coordinator) did a great job in showing Alex and Henry's vulnerability. They focused more on their emotions instead of using a wide shot from one side. Mind you, this is not porn. This is a romance film! If you want to see two hot men fuck, then I suggest you fire up your incognito browser and load those porn vids. Again, go back to my point on #1 just in case you're forgetting something.
5. The point of the sex scene is to show the building mutual trust and affection between Henry and Alex. I can't emphasize this enough that we don't get a lot of queer media with this kind of intimate scene. Most (not all) of queer sex scenes (that I have seen) are always heated and rushed. I don't mind those actually but if you're gonna let me choose which one I'd prefer, I'd choose this one.
6. Taylor and Nick did a great job in portraying the blooming love between A&H. The early stages of love is always delicate. So it's given that they'd be more gentle towards each other.
Thanks for coming to my TED talk. Now stream the movie again on Prime Video!
#red white and royal blue#rwrb movie#taylor zakhar perez#hrh prince henry#nicholas galitzine#rwrb#lgbtq#firstprince#alex claremont diaz
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Danny is Cass's brother
So! Back when David Cain was making his "Perfect Weapon", he came across a complication.
Lady Shiva, the woman who was set to give him his Weapon, was pregnant with Twins.
He decided that the Spare was useless to him, and that he needed to devote all his time to the Weapon. He was about to give it up, or maybe just dispose of it, when he decided that it was fine to keep it. A Spare is still a Spare after all, if the Weapon ever failed or died, he could start from scratch.
So, Danny was raised for the first 8 years of his life as a Spare Weapon. He didn't get the same rigorous training that Cass did, as she was the main focus, but he was still trained in the basics. Even a Spare Weapon need maintenance after all.
Then, when he was 8, Cass broke into his Cell Room and ran from the Base with him. She knew that once she escaped, Danny would be the next one to suffer, so she took him as well.
Unfortunately, they got seperated somewhere in Illinois when they got caught by some of David's mercenaries.
Cass kept going, running all across the country before ending up in Gotham at 15 (1 year earlier than normal). There, she got adopted by Bruce Wayne and became the Vigilante, Orphan. She never stopped looking for her brother, but at the very least she knew that he must have escaped David Cain's men. They were focused specifically on her after all.
Cass had enlisted the help of her new Family to search for him. DNA tracking, Facial Recognition, even asking some of their Underworld Contacts for information.
Unfortunately, they had no leads. Until one day when one of their Facial Recognition Programs finally picks up on a Match.
The face of a Small Time Hero in Illinois.
...
When Danny and Cass got seperated, he ended up in Amity Park. After a few days of Wandering, he was found by Jazz, who then took him to her Parents and convinced them to Adopt him.
When Danny is 14, he is in a Lab Accident that turns him into a Halfa. Using his New Powers and Old Training, Danny manages to keep his new Family and Home safe from the Ghosts coming through the Fentons Portal. He becomes a Hero basically, even though he doesn't really want to attention.
He thanks the Ancients when he finds out about the Media Blackout Amity is Under. He guesses it's not great, but at least he is safe for now.
He continues like this until one day when he is 16, and there is a knock on the Door.
He opens it, and stands shocked when he sees his Sister. Not Jazz, the wonderful woman who took him in and taught him how to speak all those years ago. The one who has acted as his Older Sister for the past 5 years.
His Sister. His Twin. Cass.
After a moment of Shock, they simultaneously go in for a Hug and start to cry a little.
After a few minutes of calming down, Danny introduces his Sister to his bewildered Family. Cass likewise introduces her Adoptive Brother, Dick, who came along to make sure she was safe on the trip.
While Dick and the Fentons get acquainted, Danny takes Cass up to his room to talk.
She explains what happened after they got seperated, what she is doing there, and how she found him.
She tells him that she had originally come to Amity to bring him to her new Family, but she could see the love he held for the Fentons. Also the town needed its Hero.
Danny is shocked that she even found him through the Media Blackout, but not so much at the fact that she nailed his secret identity on sight. She was always observant after all.
After that, Cass and Dick stay in Amity for a few weeks so Danny and Cass can catch up. He introduces her to his friends, shows her around his parents Lab, and even let's her meet some of his kore friendly Rogues.
They are just having a great time.
...
Back in Gotham, Batman just got a very frantic call from Barry.
"Bruce, I just came back from the future!" Shouted Barry through the Comms.
"Explain." Demanded Batman. Barry knew better than to Time Travel without just cause. If he was forced to time travel, it was serious.
"A Villain shows up, an Apocalyptic Level Villain." Barry explains, "He destroys Everything. And I mean Everything. None of us can stop him, he has too many powers to combat. Flight, Invisibility, Intangiblity, Energy Beams, Energy Constructs, Ice Manipulation, Weather Manipulation, Electrokinesis, the list goes on."
"How do we stop him?" Asked Batman. This was dangerous, a Villain with even half of those powers was deadly already.
"It's complicated, but I think he followed me and another Hero back in Time. I think it may be a Closed Time Loop. He is the catalyst for his own creation."
"Is there any way to break the Loop? What is the main driving force to his Creation?" Asks Batman.
"Well, I know his name at least. He goes by Phantom, but his real name is Danny Fenton." Barry explains.
Bruce feels his heart grow cold. He knows both of those names.
Phantom, aka Danny Fenton, aka Daniel Cain.
Cassandra's Brother.
Barry seems to hesitate, before continuing, "...and as far as I know, the catalyst for his creation is the death of Orphan in Amity Park."
#Dpxdc#Dp x dc#Dcxdp#Dc x dp#Danny Phantom#Dc#Dcu#Cassandra Cain#David Cain#Danny Fenton#Danny is Cass' Brother#Danny joined Cass when they ran away from David Cain#Danny is adopted by the Fentons#Cass gets adopted a year early#If you couldn't guess this is The Ultimate Enemy#Danny just barely manages to keep his sanity when his family and friends die because Cass is there to help him#And then she is killed right in front of him by Dark Dan#This version of Dan isn't a Fusion of Phantom and Plasmius#It's just an Evil Future Danny#A Halfa and All#Closed Time Loop#Clockwork stopped the original Dark Dan by leading Cass into Amity so she could help Danny get through his Families deaths#But then she dies and makes an even worse version of Dark Dan#Now he sent Barry back in time to try and fix his mistake
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬
( pairing ) : clarisse la rue x fem!reader
( words ) : 2000
( note ) : noticed that clarisse has her nails painted in the show and… well this came out of that. reader is heavily aphrodite coded but i don’t think it’s explicitly mentioned anywhere what cabin she’s actually from? only that she’s not from apollo’s and she’s on clarisse’s side for capture the flag
also don’t we just love that every fic i’ve ever published is literally 80% pining? honestly can’t tell you the last time one of my fics didn’t have a scene that goes on for like three paragraphs about how much admiration reader has for their love interest
oh and happy new year!!
Summer days can last for a lifetime and a fulfilling one at that. There’s so much to be done when the world wakes, engulfed in light and warmth, nurturing possibility. There’s so much to look forward to. But today, that anticipation has chosen to work against you.
The sun is setting now, approaching dinnertime, and Clarisse is nowhere to be found. For all of her spontaneity and occasional recklessness, it’s unlike her to abandon routines. That is, routines she shares with you. And walking to dinner together happens to be one of your longest-running practices.
You tried to ask around, careful not to sound too concerned so as not to spark rumors. See, Clarisse La Rue has never been publicly caught in a state that warrants concern. Clarisse La Rue is untouched by the fears that plague the rest of them. But you know better.
It isn’t until you come across a few Ares kids, very obviously overworked and looking nearly faint with exhaustion, that you come to your senses. It isn’t infrequent that Cabin 5 becomes victim to one of Clarisse’s drills, training until fatigue overpowers their fear of her authority. As predicted, you find her in a clear patch of the forest overlooking the strawberry fields. Some days she likes to train here, away from watchful eyes.
The setting sun casts her in golden light, bronze armor glistening alongside golden skin. Clarisse liked to train in full gear — a fruitful habit to get herself accustomed to the added weight of leather and metal. It allows her to move with ease, swinging her spear with grace despite the strength of her whole body being evident in every step. With her head held high, spear raised, and the incredible speed at which she moves, she doesn’t look even the slightest bit mortal, but rather a god amongst men. A warrior and hunter. She is the perfect picture of divinity if you’ve ever seen it.
You let your feet drag against the dirt, a fallen branch snapping beneath your weight. It informs Clarisse of your presence from a safe distance, although the remnants of her focused state aren’t any less intimidating. Her eyes burn bright like the electricity that charges the tip of her spear.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Clarisse realizes her error with a glance at the horizon where the sun is setting and you smile warmly, dismissing any indication of displeasure. You watch her demeanor change, the rigidity in her posture fading with an apologetic tip of her head.
“I’ve been training. Those idiots would know that if they’d stuck around to join me.” Something tells you that that isn’t entirely true. Anyone could assume that she’d been training, but the matter of where was an entirely different question. As far as you know, this particular spot is something only the two of you are familiar with — a small refuge away from everyone else.
“Well, we don’t all have your… passion for these things.”
“You think I’m ridiculous,” she says with a sigh.
“Babe, you’re training for capture the flag. Not war.” Clarisse only shakes her head, knowing there’s no point in arguing. She thinks this is something the two of you might never see eye-to-eye on. While you like your fair bit of competition, Clarisse takes every victory with great significance. As she does with every loss.
“Here, I’ll help you,” you say, approaching to tuck a stray curl behind her ears. Your touch lingers at her cheeks, flushed from physical exertion and maybe something more by the way her gaze settles on your lips. Every intake of breath is louder now that you stand toe to toe and the adrenaline has started to wear off. She’s too worked up to have done this all for a game of capture the flag. “I hope you’re not doing all this to get back at Percy.” Her eyes still linger on your mouth and you think she might’ve not heard you until her brows furrow in confusion.
“Since when are you on a first-name basis?”
“Oh, come on,” you say with a disapproving shake of your head. “He’s just a kid.” You reach for the leather chord at the edge of her breastplate, undoing the knot with ease.
“He’s full of it.” She refuses to look at you now, her head turned upward as if she’d developed a sudden interest in trees. You can’t tell if she’s trying to maintain her composure to keep herself from saying something she’ll regret or if your gaze and proximity was distracting her from the discussion. Maybe a bit of both.
“He’s a baby. You could body-slam him into next Friday. It’s hardly a fair fight.” You untie the last knot keeping her breastplate in place, tugging upward to slip it over her head. Clarisse doesn’t even seem to realize that you’d freed her of her armor until the weight vanished from her body.
She looks at you then with an expression you can’t quite read. Something warm, like gratitude, but reluctant. When she speaks, it’s unexpectedly solemn.
“Do you really believe he killed The Minotaur? Him? Gods, everyone here trains themselves to death for that kind of stuff and he gets all the glory? He doesn’t even know how to shoot.” Now that you’ve been made aware of the gravity of the situation, it’s suddenly harder to find your words. This isn’t the petty rivalry you’d assumed it was, and you had to handle it as such.
“Well, I’m sure a few things have been exaggerated here and there, but that’s not his fault. People love to talk about him, but nobody’s really talking to him. I don’t think he’s had a say in anything that’s been said about him. You know how rumors spread around here.”
“But he’s—”
“Look,” you start, taking her hands into yours. “I’m not asking you to make him friendship bracelets. Just… try not to drown him in the lake, okay?”
You know the exact moment an idea hits her by the mischievous glimmer in her eye. It takes a lot of strength not to bury your face in your hands, afraid that you’ve now planted an idea that would get the poor boy killed. Or worse.
“Clarisse, please.” She surrenders, albeit reluctantly.
“Fine,” she says. Still, you’re not entirely convinced.
“Good. Now say it.”
“What?”
“Say you won’t drown him in the lake.” Clarisse laughs, but it dies down when she realizes you don’t plan to join her.
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m really not.”
“I swear not to drown Percy Jackson in the lake,” she agrees through gritted teeth. You don’t say anything about the way her hands tighten around yours as if it physically pained her to say the words.
“See? That wasn’t so hard,” you tell her, ignoring that it did, in fact, seem hard. “Now, what are we gonna do with those nails?” Clarisse stares blankly at your joined hands. Chipped black nail polish alongside your perfectly pristine, perfectly preserved set of nails.
“Why do we need to do anything about my nails?”
“Honey, I painted these like two days ago. What do you even do to get them chipped like this? I mean, are you fighting with the back of your hand? I don’t understand.”
“I have to train, you know?” she says, like it’s meant to explain anything. You know better than to ask her to elaborate.
“Shame. You have very pretty nail beds. You should spend less time fighting puppy dog-eyed middle schoolers so you can actually keep them pretty.”
“You think I have pretty nail beds?” You shrug.
“Among other things.”
“Well, tell me about these other things.”
“Hm, and people think I’m vain.”
“Come on. What other things?”
You take a moment to look at her — to really look at her. To dissect every inch of her face and the features that create the picture of beauty you know and love. There are far too many pretty things to point out, but you find yourself drawn to one in particular.
“You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.”
“Well, thank you.”
“Shut up. I’m not finished.”
“Of course. Don’t let me stop you.”
“And you have the most gorgeous smile.” Clarisse beams with pride. “Yeah, that one. And it doesn’t even matter if it looks like you’re just about ready to tear someone’s throat out with your teeth. I just like to see you happy. I like hearing you laugh even better.”
And laugh she does. Low but sweet, like honey. She looks like the teenage girl she is, deeply infatuated and with a capacity for love she has only ever shared with you.
You indulge in the temporary amusement it brings you to think of how horrified Clarisse might be if anyone else were around to hear her giggle. Clarisse La Rue, Daughter of Ares, infamous for waging war on whichever unfortunate soul so much as breathes in her direction — producing a laugh so gentle and beautiful it could give Orpheus and his songs a run for his money. And you might be the happiest girl alive to have been the cause of it.
“You’re sure you’re not Apollo’s kid?”
“Are you calling me a talented poet?”
“I’m calling you a sap,” Clarisse insists with a sour expression, but her voice is saturated with mirth, eyes too bright, and you know she isn’t entirely opposed to your antics.
“I think the term you’re looking for is romantic.”
“Yeah, right.” She rolls her eyes.
“I know I’m right, but thank you for the confirmation.”
“I know the nail polish fumes are getting to your head,” she mocks. You feign defeat, retreating with an exaggerated sigh.
“Maybe.” Two steps to your left and you’re concealed by a tree, its trunk twice as wide as either of you. You peak your head, locking eyes with Clarisse. “Or all that training is slowing you down. Honestly! If you’re gonna try to insult me, at least try to come up with something original.”
“Oh, you think I’m slow?” Clarisse asks, every word a thinly veiled threat — a challenge, and one you’re willing to accept.
“Unless you want to prove me wrong.” Clarisse lunges at you without warning, almost too fast, but you’re able to gather your senses. The tree had bought you just enough time to keep her whole body from slamming into yours, the force of it undoubtedly capable of launching you both to the ground.
You dash through the woods as fast as your legs can carry you, your only advantage being that Clarisse must have tired herself out from training. But you know she’s hot on your trail.
From here, you can see the bonfire, flames burning high. You turn, prepared to declare that your victory is just seconds away. You’re tackled to the floor before a word can leave your mouth.
“Oh, come on! That’s not fair, I was distracted!”
“Distracted by what?” Clarisse laughs hysterically although taking a much more graceful tumble to the floor than you had. She’s covered in fallen leaves and her jeans are brown at the knees where the denim fades.
“The pretty girl chasing me.” Clarisse is beside herself with joy, clutching at her stomach and close to tears, and it takes her a minute to calm herself. When the two of you have settled, she speaks again. Or tries to, that is.
“Oh, you are so—“ You place a kiss on her lips, short and sweet, but enough to leave her speechless. Clarisse turns a violent shade of red and you think she might need another minute to calm herself. You take that time to revel in your victory.
You stand, offering your hand to help her up.
“Come on, let’s get dinner and you can rest for the game tomorrow. If you’re gonna lead us to victory, you’re gonna need your strength, captain.” She smiles, intertwining her hand with yours.
“You’re gonna be there? Right beside me?”
“La Rue, you’re crazy if you think there’s even a chance I’d ever leave your side.”
•°. *࿐
reader: pls don’t drown percy in the lake
clarisse: ok fine
clarisse: *tries to drown percy*
reader: what did i say about drowning people??
clarisse: …
clarisse: you never said the toilets were off-limits
also i'm like brand new to the pjo fandom but i’ve been kindly informed of clarisse x silena (and their tragic ending but i turn a blind eye to that so i can preserve my sanity) but when i get there you WILL need to physically restrain me from writing fics about them
#clarisse la rue#clarisse la rue x reader#pjotv x reader#pjo tv adaptation#pjo tv series#clarisse la rue fluff#pining#but they’re already dating#they’re just horrendously down bad for each other and it’s kind of embarrassing#x reader#healthy bit of banter#and trying to convince clarisse to let percy live to see another day#breaking news: summer camp gets awkward when ur gf has beef w the middle schooler#you can’t say she didn’t try to help him ok
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
The Great War -141, Vladimir Makarov
Based on a request:
with the new mw3, lets do angst, something along the lines of "Somewhere in the haze, got a sense i've been betrayed" coming from us because 141 betrayed us horribly, which ended up in us getting tortured and then we pretennd its fine when it isnt. forget and forgive we lie and when we meet with Makarov, we tell them, 'oops sorry, forgot i was also a enemy at some point, guess its time to betray like real enemies do' and as we set Makarov free, we show that we have been working as his spy ever since they betrayed us. also can this be with a female reader and we also marry makarov behind their backs so thats why we betray so hard? i love u!
A/N: anon knew what they were doing with that ask…anyway, here you go my love…betrayal as a meal <3
---
F!Reader, soldier!reader, enemy!reader, betrayal, mentions of torture and violence
A/N: also, not much of an angst since I don't want to kill Soap in this one...but I hope you like it
[Present day]
File #21712
Name: [Readers Last, First name]
Alias: Grim
Callsign: Bravo 0-5
Gender: F
DOB: [Redacted]
Rank: 2nd Lt.
Affiliations:
-TF 141 (Former)
-Kasper Team (dissolved)
-Konni Group (Current)
Status: Alive. Threat.
Summary:
Deadly, fast and a killing machine. Soldier was trained as a recon sniper and has been trained by allied forces as an insertion specialist. SAS has recognised this soldier as a necessity for most of its joint operations. Decorated with high awards and recognition by all military forces. TF 141 acquired soldier after a mission in Al Mazrah. Capable of killing all those that come between her and the goal, will not hesitate to harm enemies.
----------------------
The file was there, Laswell and all of the men in the team stared at it. What have they done, was all that played in their minds. To betray a soldier that has been wanted by all allied forces, by all teams and now losing you so quickly to a Russian group. To think your hands will be responsible for their demise. One torture room, where you begged as they did vile acts against you. Truth yelled by your gravelly throat, only to have Price ask for more of your blood. "How did he get to her so quickly?" Gaz asked, baffled to have lost you to the man you hated when this all began. "He had her all along," Kate spoke. Nikolai shook his head. "But how? We were her family," a betrayed Ghost said. "We betrayed her first," Price recalls.
[Eight years ago]
There had been suspicion someone within the base was working with KorTac, a double agent. All fake puzzles led to an unsuspecting, then officer cadet, you. Ghost and Soap made sure to tie you nicely to a chair. The same one that watched you bleed the truth as they cut looking for lies. You were always the hunter, never the prey. "Tell us, R/N, why the fuck were you talking to KorTac!" Price made sure to have the young Lieutenant punch you each time you stayed silent. Your blood on the walls of the torture-...interrogation room. "I told you Price, it isn't me!" Your eyes poured the truth they never saw.
"Fucking answer us!" Soap, more than ever hurt, slapped you. You play tough, but this hurts, the people you trusted with your life are now wanting to end it. An oath you hold close to you, now far away, or so they believed. The patch you wore with pride, is now ripped from your uniform. No longer friendly but an enemy. You knew what this meant. Ghost took his knife out, began to approach your neck with the sharp blade and before he took your life, Gaz walked in. A small-figured soldier is being pushed into the room. "Tell them what you told me!" Garrick barked. "I-it's me! I'm the one who is talking to KorTac," voice filled with fear, rightfully so. Ghost let go of the fisted uniform in his hand, and watched as your body fell forward. Soap, look of regret, held you in his arms.
On the way to the medic centre, Ghost was by your side as you kept whispering it wasn't you. The scar he made, is forever to be kept. Days of healing, hours of apologies. Nights when you didn't hear it, but the cold lieutenant apologised with a stream of tears on his face. A blade he cared for, neared your death.
A/N: Makarov's information has been updated for the reboot, so I'm basing myself on that
[Seven years ago]
[Saint Petersburg, Russia]
You visited the country as a civilian and bumped into a man on your way to your hotel. "Sorry, mate," you kept walking and then days later, the same man appeared in the hotel's lobby. Bumped into you and then as an apology for spilling your wine, he offers dinner. 36-year-old Vladimir was still not illustrated, not to any of his future enemies or hunters at least. You learned many things with him that evening, from his young years in the military and how his night had gotten better since meeting you. "It's wonderful, to have such a beauty like you visit such a dull country." He had you blushing and knew how to mess with your young heart.
"You're just saying that, Vlad," a smile on your lips. It was bizarre how he went from Vladimir to Vlad, a short name that meant too much to a man like him. "Well, it's true, my dear," his smile winning you over. He didn't know your real job and you didn't know his. That night, you made a friend, someone you hold dear. That night, he made a lover, a puppet to his future.
[Six years ago]
[middle of nowhere]
"Where are you taking me?" a blindfold on you as your boyfriend, Vlad, took you to yet another date. "You'll see my dearest," he whispers against your soft skin. Warm breeze hit your skin. The ocean, as free as you and him yearned to be. "Suprise my love," his thick accent melting your heart. The blindfold off you, you smile and hug him. This day, all truth was told, no arguments, just two lovers understanding each other's lives. "No no, my love, I would never hurt you," a promise he knows to keep. "And you wouldn't betray me, right love?" His hands cupped your delicate face as you nod. "I would never," you whisper as you feel his lips fall on yours.
From then on, no one knew who he was to you. But to his comrades, friends and family you were the girl who held his heart. The task force all thought you were just like them, stuck to the mission and not to civilian love. Dancing with the devil, making love to him and promising your all. An engagement ring that hangs with your dog tags. Secret love to never be told.
[Five years ago]
"Who is this?" Soap and Gaz looked at the photograph. "Vladimir Makarov, a Russian nationalist, born during the USSR," Laswell responded. "He's the target," her lips said. A knot at your throat, this can't be, you have to warn him. "Y'alright love?" Ghost's hand on your back. You nod. "Yeah, I'm just thinking," you turn to him. He nods, "Right, well, what do you think we should do?" He encouraged you, the new lieutenant of the team, no longer a cadet officer. It was something he pushed you to, to be the best. Proud smile on him when you ran up to him with the news. "I say we start with intel," you look at the photograph once more. It was your Vlad, no doubt. "Right, sergeants with me, Ghost and Grim stay behind for Laswell's next intel ask," Price nodded and left.
Days passed and Operation Golf was established. Ghost taught you how to perfect your ghillie suit. He just liked how you tried to make yours better than his, which always turned into, 'which Lt. wore it better'.
By midnight, as Ghost went to sleep, you left base to meet with Vladimir. Price and the two other men in a different country, looking for him. "What is it, my love?" His gloved hands held your face. "They are now gathering intel on you. They believe you are still in Russia," you spoke in Russian. He chuckles, "Shame that I'm here, isn't it," his lips meet yours. Your nose is cold and now warmed by his kiss. "Don't trust no one, not even Ivan," you warn him. "I only trust my beautiful love," he kisses you again. "Now, let me hold my precious darling before she plays pretend." And that night, was the first of many rendezvous's he took for you whilst you play ally to the task force.
[Four years ago]
You were on an operation with some old teammates from a past squad when Price got a hold of you. "Grim, it's that Captain Price guy!" A teammate calls out. You answer the call. "Prisoner 627 is now in Russia," Price proudly spoke. 627, a number unique to the case the military had opened for Makarov alone. Your wedding ring is hung with the dog tags. "Copy, out." You say over the call. That night, your bedroom was not filled with the call of your dearest lover. It's strange, to play pretend with the family you made as a soldier and to play feign with the man you call home as a wife. All in the name of love and war.
Months pass and you play calmly. No husband, just an enemy in some Russian prison. "Y'okay bonnie?" Soap sat beside you during mess hall. "Yeah, just a bit tired from that training," you lie. The sleepless nights you have thought about your husband. You look around the table, no one knowing you knew what would come next from Konni. In the end, it wouldn't be you who got betrayed again. Not tortured, especially not by the men in your husband's team that guarded your life with theirs.
Mission after mission, you would go to a country near Russia. Have meetings with people on your husband's side, and hear how he would escape prison. Asked you to stay away from his people when the day arrived. Play good, he would remind you. You know the date, time, how and when it would happen. The plan is all memorised in your head. You knew the people that would break him free, you knew it all and yet no one in 141 was aware.
[Three years ago]
On yet another mission, you got news of Vladimir. He isolated himself, prepared for when he would see you again. Sent letters to you occasionally. Details of love no one would see from a man like him. A love for all movie lovers to never witness. You roamed the home he set out to be his and yours, no one, not even his best soldier knew that home existed. It was days like these that you wished to have stayed in bed and kissed his body, all details to be taken in for when you waited to once more kiss him.
The picture of the secret wedding was held between your fingers. A smile he dreams to see as he awaits the prison break. The man who was set to believe evil held your hand and promised an entire lifetime of love. "I'm sorry," you whisper as your gaze focuses on the 141 emblem.
"Never be sorry, never, what they did to you is cruel, you never do that to a woman who was oathed in," fury escaped his lips. It was the night he finally told you all about him. He kissed the scars that the torture room left. In that moment, all else who dared question you, especially the rats of 141 would pay for what they did to his darling. Maybe he did corrupt you, but those scars, the lies they believed and the truths they never heard from you, were way before he met you. He believed in loyalty, good or evil, opposing or not. And the way you told him how you held the oath of being a soldier dear to you, he admired it. He believes that loyalty is essential, and if you are loyal to who you are, he applauds it.
[Two years ago]
A mission gone wrong, a phone call from within the prison. All he sacrificed to just hear you say, "I'm fine, honey." With that oh-so-soft voice of yours. A sigh of relief came from his lips. This was a reminder he would always be around even from within a guarder tower of hell. His men would always guard you, even if they fought 141, you were never the target. KorTac had a target on their backs when Vladimir found out they were the ones responsible for the bullet on your shoulder. "What is it?" He asked the guard. "The girl has been injured, gunfight at some mission." He had people that worked for him within the guards, and when the news arrived to him, that's when for the first time in his life, he feared life and a gun. Vladimir Makarov is a villain in everyone's eyes. In your eyes that hold paradise, he is peace. He is Vlad, your husband.
Whilst waiting for Soap to get cleared from the medics, you played with the ring on your necklace. "Oh, R/N, has some lover?" Gaz was the first to notice. Ghost's stare went to you, eyes wide as he heard the words he never needed to hear. Your blush told the words his heart never wanted to hear.
[One year ago]
[Las Almas, Mexico]
"Are you threatening us?" Ghost asked and in that moment, he made you back away. Guarding you with his body. Betrayal, the first of many he would see with you. That became the night you escaped the shadows of Commander Graves. Soap was somewhere in the city, Ghost and you escaped every chance the shadows had at catching you. Imprisonment is something you got Colonel Vargas out of. Ironic. By the end, you killed him, the man who used his shadows, in some explosion. "You alright, love?" Ghost asked as you went to the aircraft quietly. "Yeah, Mexico just tired me," your head hung as you played with the dog tags. "Who's the lover?" He finally acknowledged the ring. "No one, it's just a silly joke," you lie, something he knew well. "Hmm, yeah...a silly joke," he turned away from you.
[Present day, 21 November 2023 ]
[London, England]
The last time you saw them all as a team, well, now that you were sure you'd be a newfound enemy. With Makarov now out of prison, prisoner 627, your love called for him. As Ghost looked through the CCTV cameras, one of the men in Konni gave you the signal. And as you approached, you caught a glimpse of him. Your heart flutters and then you look at Ghost. He nodded and you pretended to try and fight against Makarov. Czar-9-0 Actual. The callsign of your husband and the name of the man you betrayed them for. Guns blazing, bullets directed at them, not you. Gaz and Ghost, a team, Soap and Price, a team, 141, one unit. You, the wife of the enemy. Two bullets and then, the head hit the ground. Young soldier down. "What are you doing?!" Soap asked as you turned on them. A 20-year-old soldier died within seconds, you knew him from when he joined at 18. James, the man whose blood ran on your gun.
Makarov fired, one of his men held your hand and brought you to your husband. The 141 patch off your uniform as now, you were given the Konni patch. "Welcome back, comrade," a man spoke with an evil grin. Ghost, the eyes that saw the betrayal again. 23 soldiers died, from both sides. 141 on the ground, trying to recover.
--
"C'mon, Grim, you have to trust me on this, yeah?" the young lieutenant that made Ghost told you. "What if we fall?" you asked. "If you trust me, we won't and if I trust you, we will go home and get a pint or two," He smiles at you. From this day on, you and he became close, a bond no gun could break.
--
Ghost swore you were taken hostage. And as Makarov was about to kill Captain Price, one of his men tapped him out. "No time, we will get him later!" Ghost's glare never left yours. He shook his head. This can't be, not his R/N. You looked at him, no remorse behind your eyes. It wasn't R/N, it was Grim that stared at him. The soldier he respected the most. You pointed your gun at one of the other soldiers with them.
It turned into something bigger
Somewhere in the haze, got a sense I'd been betrayed
He jumped at you, to not kill you but to bring you back and let Makarov run with Grim. You pushed him, what turned into a fight for his teammate to be back, became a fight against the enemy. You pushed him to the ground. "Ghost!" Gaz yelled as he saw your gun pointed at him. It was never Makarov that would be his demise. It wasn't an enemy. It was you. It was the one he held dear to his civilian self. The woman he would drink poison for. The one he jumped a bullet for when they were young cadets. Stupid, stupid, stupid. His eyes never left yours and for a second, he saw past Grim and noticed the scared R/N that obeyed her husband.
Soldier down on that icy ground
Looked up at me with honor and truth
Broken and blue, so I called off the troops
That was the night I nearly lost you
You put your gun down and turn away, running to Vladimir. His open arms, ready to embrace his darling. Now, all of 141's secrets are with Makarov. It clicked in that instant. How four years ago Makarov knew who Ghost was. How well he knew all their names. It wasn't some file he saw when his hacker got in, no, it was you, the best of all pawns. The train cleaned your tracks. Price and the others stood in fear, all this time, you were part of Konni. Ghost stood in silence.
In every war he was in, you were there. His favourite of all soldiers. From his early days as just Simon to his latest days as Ghost, all witnessed by you. He was the one who asked for you anywhere he went. His life came in a flash, all the Christmas events, the dinners and drinks he had with his friend...no...enemy. The one person who knew Simon liked the palm of her hand, now holding the man Ghost called an enemy.
"How did he get to her so quickly?" Gaz asked, baffled to have lost you to the man you hated when this all began. "He had her all along," Kate spoke. Nikolai shook his head. "But how? We were her family," a betrayed Ghost said. "We betrayed her first," Price recalls. "But that was years ago," Soap comments. "It started years ago," Gaz mentions. "We weren't meant to win this one gentlemen," Kate informs.
"Fuck!" Ghost's blood boiled. He scared them, he knew that well. So when he slammed his fist on the table, he even made the best of soldiers flinch. "Lt," Soap tried to calm him down. "No, Johnny! You don't get it, you don't know her as I do," he approached the sergeant. "She didn't kill you, why?" Kate walks to the betrayed soldier. "What?" His voice is hoarse. "She had the chance to kill you, headshot even, yet she didn't, she ran to him and then when she did, all fire ceased." Kate is after all a mastermind. "She didn't betray Simon, she betrayed Ghost, she betrayed Soap, not Johnny, Gaz, not Kyle and Bravo six, not John." She states.
"She betrayed soldiers, not family," Price came to realisation. Grim did that, Grim killed all that came between the goal. 'Capable of killing all those that come between her and the goal, will not hesitate to harm enemies.' The goal wasn't to kill Task Force 141, it was to get revenge for the betrayal, for torturing you in a room, letting your blood drip. You married a man, something all fools do. But even though Makarov wanted you to pull the trigger on Ghost, you didn't. You ran away and the fire ceased.
There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair
A/N: see what I did there?...mastermind me y'know
Tags:
@tf141glory @liyanahelena @quaritchscupquake @dilfgestivo @thefragmented @scarletdfox @arialikestea @unicorngirly1 @alhaizen @willowaftxn83-87 @koniglovesme @bbyfimmie @mothcelestial @kit-kats06 @palomesa @dheet @dontfearthereaperazura
#cod#mwii#cod 141#ghost cod#mw2 141#141#task force 141#cod x reader#cod mw2#141 x reader#vladimir makarov#gaz cod#vladimir makarov x reader#cod mw3#soap cod#cod ghost#cod price#cod soap#cod modern warfare#call of duty#simon ghost riley#mw2#cod mwii#modern warfare 2#kyle gaz garrick#cod x you#cod x y/n#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty mwii#call of duty fanart
667 notes
·
View notes
Text
you'd make me pay? (jjk x reader)
aka the one where you joke w the men of jjk about paying to get affection (g. satoru + n. kento + k. choso + f. toji)
a.n.: reader is a comedienne n loves to mess w these men (the way the toji one actually happened to me 🙃)
c.w.: 18+, mdni
gojo
"C'mon- Wanna mark you up. Let everyone know you're mine." Satoru had spent practically the entire night trying to convince you to let him give you a hickey.
"Give me $10 and I'll think about it." The issue wasn't Gojo's insistence on marking you. It was his inability to adhere to subtlety. Yet he adored when he could see those red splotches of skin peaking out of your shirt collar.
Gojo stretches his body across your legs, his frame managing to span the entirety of the couch. "Toru, you're crushing me." You move the rogue white strands of hair out of his face.
"Please babe. Need you so bad." His bottom lip bulges as his whining continues.
You cave to his begging, giving him a light pat on the arm. "Fine, you big baby."
Gojo lifts himself from you and pulls you into his lap, a goofy smile strung across his face.. He takes a chaste kiss from your lips, reveling in his victory. You tilt your head to the side as he buries himself in the crook, nipping and sucking along your neck.
nanami
Sharing a bath was not only a way for the two of you to spend time with one another, but to also relax from the stress of the day. Kento had poured the two of you a glass of wine, and you lit a candle to aid in the tranquility.
You're sat on opposite sides of the tub, indulging in the warmth of the water. "C'mere. Want you to sit in my lap while I wash your hair." Kento's hands draw soothing circles on your ankles, gently tapping them to get your attention.
You sink further into the bubble bath, taking a sip of the wine. "I'm so comfy though." The idea of having to move your tired limbs on your own was a travesty. "I'll need at least $15 if you expect me to move on my own."
"How about I make you dinner and give you a massage after instead?"
"You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Nanami." You feign concentration as you mull over his proposal. "But you've got yourself a deal." You clink your wine glass into his, cheers-ing to the proposal.
Once you're seated on Kento's lap, his strong hands make idle work to wash your hair. You let a hand sink to his waist, stroking against his cock to help him relax as well.
choso
You were nestled into Choso's chest as the two of you watched a movie in the living room. One hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him. His other hand laid rest on the top of your leg, which you let rest draped over his.
"Can I kiss you?" Choso's breath tickles your ear as he whispers his request.
"For a dollar." You purse your lips, waiting for Choso to lean in.
He reaches for the wallet in his back pocket, pulling out a bill. "I only have a $20- y'know what? Just keep it." As he shoves the bill into your hand, you gently push it away.
"I was only kidding, baby." You try not to laugh too hard as you quell his nerves. The sincerity staining Choso's face has you melting. You give him a sweet smile, grabbing onto his cheeks to pepper him with kisses.
toji
Toji was out of town on a job, leaving you unfulfilled for about a week. To help sate that aching feeling, you'd planned to video chat
“Your tits look great in that top.” Toji eyes you up and down, flashing a coy wink when he meets your gaze. “Think they’d look even better without it, though.”
Feeling playful, you give him an ultimatum. “Give me $5 and I’ll do it.”
“You’d make me pay?” His smirk turns into a pout, frustrated by your proposition. Whether he'd admit it or not, Toji missed you just as much. Craving for any glimpse of the body he had longed for.
“Now it’s $20.”
“Cut me a break, doll. Don’t need you actin’ like a brat when you got me all worked up like this.”
Toji pans the phone down to his waist. The material of his sweatpants is tented up as his dick strains against it. You flip him off and flash him a quick look at your tits, not quite giving into his demands.
He’d owe you big time once he got home.
#gojo satoru x reader#nanami kento x reader#choso kamo x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#jjk fluff#jjk smut
225 notes
·
View notes
Text
༘⋆⟡jjk men red flags/green flags
nanami
- right off the bat we’re starting off with red flags
- man is way too prompt
- “hey, babe make the reservation for 5:00pm.”
- he does it and the day of, you guys are running five minutes late
- he’s PISSED and cancels the reservation (this is so funny in my head)
- you’re just standing there like so…. what now
- green flag. he’ll listen to anything you say
- even if it’s bullshit he’ll listen and actually talk about.
- great listener
satoru
- this man child cannot take no for an answer
- lowkey problematic when you think about it
- he wants shit his way
- “can you come over today, i’m free.”
- “no, i’m busy sorry satoru.”
- this man goes MAD
- well why not? no come. please. no you’re coming
- his green flag is he stands on business; may not be then and there but believe it WILL get done
- shows up and shows out
- notices the little things also
- wearing a certain color all the time?
- man will show up with 80 different items in that color on a random tuesday
suguru
- a red flag of his is being forgetful
- you’ll ask him a question and he’ll say “hmmm.” and after minutes of silence you just let it go
- he’s clingy… a little TOO clingy
- “where are you going?” “where’d you get that?” “i don’t remember you wearing that, when’d you get it.” “ah no it’s fine i’ll skip my 5 meetings and come with you.”
- his green flag is he’s very open and honest about things
- ask him anything and he’ll tell you
- he supports your every goal and will support you
toji
- he gaslights you, controlling, condescending, lies, tears down your confidence ever chance he gets, gets angry way too quickly.
- as you can see those are his red flags
- his green flags… i’m finding it i’m finding it
- good dick? hm what else
- he’s intelligent
- half the time he knows what he’s doing, he’s not dumb, but…
- sigh
- most of the time his intelligence is used to do the following above
- wait wait wait!! i forgot one
- he’s loyal. if you’re the right one for him, he’ll stick with you, so i guess that’s something.
choso
- he plays music way too loud
- this is just the tip of the iceberg but i just found it funny
- you tell him to turn it down and he will but only like 2 notches?
- he gets defensive/sensitive over certain things
- “hey your ponytail is lopsided.” “HUH? it’s not i literally just did it, what about it looks wrong to you?” “woah…”
- his green flag is… family man and very committed
- he’s going to show you you’re the only one that matters
- he loves his family and WILL let you know every second
- “hey did i tell you that itadori is coming, we need to clean out the spare room.”
- WHILE YOU’RE ACTIVELY LIFTING BOXES TO CLEAN OUT THE ROOM.
honorable mention
sukuna
- manipulater
- dude he fucking hates your guts
- will make you feel like you’re crazy
- selfish and sadistic (not in the good way)
- but…
- if he likes you enough he won’t kill you so that’s that.
#gojo satoru#jjk#jjk satoru#jujutsu gojo#jjk toji#jjk choso#jjk geto#jjk x you#jjk gojo#jjk suguru#jujutsu kaisen suguru#jujutsu kaisen choso#jujutsu kaisen toji#jujutsu satoru#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen satoru#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu toji#jujutsu geto#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu nanami
584 notes
·
View notes
Text
so american
𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴏɴ ᴠᴀᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ᴍᴀʟᴀʏꜱɪᴀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴍᴀʀʀʏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ, ᴋᴇɴᴛᴏ ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ
𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ. ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ ɪꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴇx ɢᴇɢᴇ ᴡʜʏ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴇᴛ ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴍᴀʟᴀʏꜱɪᴀ??
ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢ ꜱᴏ ᴀᴍᴇʀɪᴄᴀɴ ʙʏ ᴏʟɪᴠɪᴀ ʀᴏᴅʀɪɢᴏ.
ꜱᴏʀʀʏ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀᴍᴇʀɪᴄᴀɴ….
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2ᴋ
ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ
Kuantan, Malaysia
Vacation Day 5:
"Your English is really great." You compliment
"Thank you, I spent a lot of time in my early twenties practicing." The man next to you says
The hot sun that dances above is blocked by a pretty blue umbrella that your new companion got to stand up correctly. A half-melted drink rests in the sand next to your bag.
You met Nanami on the first day of your vacation while you were struggling to communicate with the woman who was working at the front desk of your hotel. He had smoothly cut in and easily translated your choppy Malay to something more fluent and even got you a room upgrade in the process. Originally, you had just planned to buy him dinner as a thank you but here you were, day five of vacation and you were still hanging out with him.
"You look good like that." He compliments
"Like what?" You laugh thinking of how sunburned you were
"With my shirt on." He explains, reaching out to tug gently at the sleeve of his soft linen beach shirt. He had let you borrow it after seeing how red your shoulders had become.
"Oh, right, duh." You smile, avoiding his gaze.
Was he even aware of how flirtatious he had been the past few days? You swore his pretty face and warm compliments would turn you into a puddle of love-sick embarrassment before you left this country. He reminded you of one of those men you only hear about in books or in cheesy one lined poems about love.
"It's getting late. Would you like to go to get dinner? I know a great market nearby, it has delicious street vendors." He asks
"Sure!" You smile jumping up off your towel to pack up your things while Nanami pulls the umbrella out of the sand.
You struggle to slip out of his shirt, your shoulders are burning from the sunburn.
"Keep it. I've got another in the car." He says pulling it back up over you, " You look pretty in it anyway."
You're mesmerized by the blonde as he drives down the road. Warm air from the open windows pushes your hair from your eyes as you eye the way his arms flex slightly when he takes a turn.
"You're quiet today. Normally you're full of jokes." He says
Crap. You can't admit that you've been ogling him all day!
"I...my back has been hurting."
What the hell was that?!
"Ah. You should've told me earlier, we could've rented those chairs." He says, referring to the overpriced chairs that were for rent on the beach.
"It's alright. Those are just tourist traps anyway." You dismiss
"We're both tourists." He reminds you
"I know..." You roll your eyes
"Put your feet up, I heard that can help with pain."
Your face heats up when he stops the car at an intersection and gently pulls your feet up so they rest on the dashboard. So touchy, you swear he's doing all this on purpose!
"Better?" He asks
"Yup!" You smile
Silence settles around you as you try not to treat the man next to you like eye candy. In defense, it's not your fault. Who knew driving could be so attractive? It didn't help that he hadn't put that extra shirt on yet...
"Tell me a joke." He prompts
Who did he think you were, a stand-up comedian?
"Umm...Why did Darth Vader go to the dermatologist?" You ask
"Why?" Nanami responds, a hint of amusement in his voice
"He had Start Warts." You say
You hear him let out a snicker of laughter and you feel your face heat up out of embarrassment.
"It was the best I could do cold turkey okay!" You groan
Nanami had been right about the market and the street vendors. You had never seen so much delicious-looking food at once. How did he know so much about this place? According to him, he had only been in Kuantan two days before he met you.
"So," You smile as you pop a delicious bite of food into your mouth "Do you always look like this or is this a special version of Nanami?"
You're referring to his relaxed appearance. Long blonde hair slightly hides his eyes and the top view buttons of his shirt are undone. His skin is tanned from all the time spent on the beach at your side and a pair of sunglasses sit in the pocket that's sewn onto his shirt.
"I actually wear suits most of the time when I'm back home." He says
Seriously? He hides this muscular build under suits every day? The poor women of Japan, they don't know what they're missing!
"No way!" You laugh
"I'm serious." He says, and he takes his phone out and pulls up a few pictures of him and a kid with pink hair at his side.
"Wow. You uh, look..." You don't want to tell him he looks like he has a stick up his ass...
"Stoic, I know." He says "I like to think Itadori brightens this picture up though."
You look at the pink-haired boy, Itadori, who is holding up double peace signs and looks like a ray of sun next to the stoic Nanami.
"He definitely makes up for your lack of smile." You tease, poking at his cheek as he brushes your hand off his face
"Well, I had good reason to not smile. The person taking this picture is the most- speak of the devil."
A chime interrupts his sentence and you look down at the phone to see a push notification.
Satoru Gojo
Shoko is going through old pics, check this one out, you were so cute, Nanamin!
Another ding sounds and your eyes widen to see a picture appear at the top of the screen.
Nanami tries to snatch his phone off the table but you get there first and open the message from this Satoru Gojo.
"Is this you in high school?!" You gasp seeing the picture in all its glory as you tap on it
You take the blushing and silence as a yes.
"Your bangs!" You laugh
"I know, it's bad. I don't know what I was thinking." He admits sheepishly
"I think it's kinda cute." You admit, "It kinda reminds me of an emo haircut."
"I wasn't emo." He says
"You sure? Those bangs aren't very convincing..." You laugh "Not to metnion you're not smiling here either...kinda seems emo to me!"
"I wasn't!" He groans, finally reaching successfully for his phone "I wasn't emo...I'm not emo."
You laugh at the way he texts this Satoru Gojo back with a scowl on his face.
"You should tell this person my opinions of your hair." You say
"So he can call me an emo when I get back? I don't think so. Nice try though." Nanami says gently tapping his shoe against yours under the table
Vacation Day 6:
You agree to Nanami's suggestion of a nice stroll through the lit-up city. City lights twinkle against the dark sky as you see the shops and karts selling different goods. You pick up the goofiest-looking plushies and make up different voices for each of them as Nanami watches and laughs.
"Wait, stop for a second." He says suddenly
"Hmm? Do you want one of those weird charms? They don't really seem like they're your style." You say, distracted by the store he's stopped you in front of.
A soft tickle on your leg brings your attention downward and you see something you're not expecting. Nanami is down on one of his knees tying the laces on your left sneaker. His blonde hair is brushing your knee as he finishes up.
"I didn't want you to trip." He says gently patting the back of your calf as he straightens back up
"Oh, thank you." You say, trying to ignore how warm his hands felt against your leg.
You're a mess internally as you try to keep cool when he continues to walk. If he keeps this up you're going to end up in love with him before this trip was over...wait...has that been his goal the whole time? It couldn't possibly be.
"Could I ask you a question?" Nanami asks when you finally get yourself together
"Sure." You say
"Are those red cups I see in movies actually a real thing where you come from?"
That's his question? Why would Solo cups not be a real thing?
"Umm of course!" You laugh at his dorky question, "Did you think they were fake?"
"I just thought it was strange that everyone drank from red cups at parties." He shrugs
"Well, for your information, Nanami I've been to multiple parties and drank from a red cup like in the movies." You say
"Interesting." He says, his body gently bumping into yours when you get a little too close, "You can call me Kento."
"I thought in Japan you were supposed to call a person by their last name." You say
"Well, yes that's for formality." He says, "I think we're familiar with each other though, we've been around each other for six full days now."
"Alright then, Kento." You smile, testing his first name out on your tongue
You want to laugh when Kento drags you into a tie shop. He must want something fun to wear to work when he gets home. You suggest multiple different kinds that are ridiculous and would probably get him fired. Your personal favorite? The one with the huge eagle with a snake in his talons. It was just too ridiculous to be real. Honestly it reminded you of things you'd see back home. It was just missing the signature red white and blue.
"Here, switch places with me." Kento says as you exit the store and get back on the sidewalk
"What? Okay." You agree
You don't miss the way he smiles to himself when he gets what he wants. Does he have a preferred side of the sidewalk or something? Who enjoys being on the side closer to the road? What a weird man.
Vacation Day 7:
"You're really strange sometimes." You observe
"How so?" He asks as he bites into a cookie
"You were fully content just wandering into my hotel room. What if I was an axe murderer?" You ask
It was a rainy day in Kuantan. There were road closures and a few downed trees nearby so you had invited Kento to spend the day with you in your hotel room. The two of you were wrapped in fuzzy bathrobes and had just polished off an excellent room service meal that he had insisted on paying for despite you insiting that it was payment for driving you around.
"I knew you weren't though." He says
"And if I was?" You ask
"I would be disappointed and then I'd try to fight you and your axe off." He says
"What if I was too strong?" You joke
"I doubt it." He laughs as he flexes one of his arms.
There isn't much to look at because of the bathrobe that conceals his arms from your greedy eyes but you swear you can see a bit of definition under all the fuzzy material.
"Whatever..." You mumble
His stupidly pretty face is making you say dumb things. Who talks about axe murderers with such a good looking man in their bed? You were surely the biggest idiot in all of Malaysia.
"I thought you said this was a good movie," Kento says
"It is! You just need to give it a chance!" You say
"We're already ten minutes in and the only jokes they've made are about sex and drugs." Kento points out
"Okay, but...look you just have to trust me okay!" You say looking at your laptop which is playing Superbad, a film Kento hasn't ever seen
"There is more to humor than just bad sex jokes." He says
"Well, not in this movie. Now hush." You say unpausing the movie
Kento Nanami's eyes drift over you as you're mesmerized by this movie. Sure there were funny moments but he had definitely seen better.
Besides, how could he focus on some old 2000s movie when he was too distracted by you? You look too cute for words in the hotel's bathrobe and there's even a bit of chocolate smeared on your face from the Hershey kisses you had pulled out of your bag and insisted he try earlier.
His eyes rake over you and your entire room in general. A pair of blue jeans haphazardly sits on the chair across the room. He can see the American flag-printed sunglasses you wore the other day sitting on the nightstand beside a few stray hair ties. An oversized bag of chips you had brought from back home is half eaten on the bed near his feet, he didn't even know they made bags that large.
He swore you were some walking stereotype of things he didn't even know were real outside movies. To top it all off he's pretty sure you're wearing a "New York Yankees Baseball" t-shirt underneath your robe.
"You're so American."
The words tumble from his mouth before he can stop them
"Huh? What's that supposed to mean?" You ask, clearly a bit offended by his words
"Nothing, nothing." He laughs at the way your eyebrows knit together in confusion
"Tell me!" You groan reaching out to punch at his arm.
He easily catches it and pulls you into his side.
"Nothing. You're just really American." He smiles as he wraps an arm around you
You let out a huff of annoyance that he finds cute.
"Whatever, Kento. Maybe you're just too Japanese." You dismiss as you rest your head on his chest.
He lets out a hum of amusement and just accepts the way you send a mean pinch to his upper thigh. The pain is barely there but he laughs when you gently rub at the spot as a form of apology.
He's never been more glad that he came to Kuantan. He can't wait to visit more corners of the world, hopefully with you at his side. Yes, he's sure he wants to be around you even more, even if you're loud in stores, drink out of red cups, and wear baseball themed shirts. Sure, you might be oh-so-American to everyone else but he loves every bit of it.
Was that a cringe ending? I hope it wasn't.
As an american, I tried to think of stereotypes to put into this fic and struggled. IS that a sign I'm blind to them? Probably. Oops.
Yes, I'm still working on my Gojo fic. Have some Nanami while you wait. Consider this my formal apology for what I did to him in the Gojo fic...
My Masterlist
#nanami kento#nanami x reader#jjk#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#romance#fanfic#nanami smut#jjk nanami#yuji itadori#gojo satoru#shoko ieiri#nanami fluff#nanami x you#kento nanami#jjk x reader#kento x reader#jjk fluff#nanami should have gotten to malaysia#nanami x fem!reader#nanami x y/n#Spotify#jujutsu kaisen
184 notes
·
View notes
Text
cuddling the brothers (realistic)
mc's gender is not mentioned, not proof read
content warnings: this is a shitpost (at this point I'm basically roasting these men) also pretty sure I did this before but not a joke version
-----
Lucifer
honestly consider yourself lucky if this man agrees to cuddle you or has time to cuddle you
and if it does happen it's behind a door he put 5 magic locks on because he can't risk his brothers seeing him all soft for you (pride at its finest)
lucifer's shoulders are so stiff if a plate fell on them it would shatter from the sheer impact
other than him not feeling soft and cuddly but more like a brick, it's not bad at all
Mammon
here follows an example of mammon's average attempt to ask you to cuddle with him
'hey uh mc, look, listen, uhhhh nevermind I'm going to akudonald's, want something?' (he is awkwardly playing with his shirt and not looking you in the eyes while speaking)
but when you actually do hug him, mammon feels like a living heater do not hug him on a hot summer day also he's a little awkward about it at first but then refuses to release you
Leviathan
step 1 is getting levi to warm up enough to you so you two can cuddle without him going insane
step 2 is you have to get used to the fact that when he decides he wants to hold you and it's during his gaming sessions you might get cheese puff dust all over you because he was eating those before
your clothes will look like a bee after it sat on a flower
also never hug him after he's been marinating in his room all day he will not smell super great until after his bath
Satan
how often have you cuddled with him only to smell the strong scent of cat food and on his clothes?
one time you hugged him and a whole pack of cat food fell out of his pocket
and sometimes he's been in some ancient library so you hug him, end up inhaling some dust that stuck to him, and sneeze
please get satan some perfume and a lint roller for his next birthday
also he doesn't love being held so usually it's just him holding you, not you holding him or you holding each other
Asmodeus
sometimes he gets a little too happy and squeezes you a little hard (you feel like you are breaking a rib)
also sometimes there's a whole cloud of strong perfume surrounding him good luck breathing oxygen
sometimes he gets a glimpse of you hugging in the mirror and then he want to take pictures of you and him in that position
when asmo says 'take a picture' he means 'I'm going to take 86367336 pictures and delete everything except the best three'
Beelzebub
like mammon he is a walking heater but like three times more warm it feels like hugging the sun
also good luck with the smell if he wants to hug you after his gym visit when the showers were broken
by the way never cuddle him in his bed because the sheets are basically fully coated in crumbs it's like sitting on the beach
but other than all that, he's nice to cuddle he looks so happy like :)))
Belphegor
beel is warm, his twin is the opposite
his hands feel like putting food from the fridge onto your skin and you can even feel some cold through your clothes
also there's a 99% chance he's going to fall asleep on you and you have to end up dragging him to the nearest couch or bed (or just leave him he can sleep on everything, through anything and on any surface probably)
and belphie has a tight grip on you there's no escape once you decide to cuddle him
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me scenarios#obey me swd#obey me imagines#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#asmodeus obey me#beelzebub obey me#belphegor obey me#obey me shitpost#gn!mc
591 notes
·
View notes
Text
Wild. (Rudy x Reader.)
!CW! NSFW, Smut, MINORS DNI! unprotected p in v sex, (sorry if I missed any.)
*not edited*
When people think of Rudy they think of him as a kind, gentle, loving man. And they’re not wrong, not at all. He’s gentle, he’s a good problem solver. He’s good at soothing people when they’re upset in any way. He’s good at de-escalating situations, and he’s a phenomenal getaway driver.
Everyone knows Rudy is a family man, but he doesn’t talk much about his wife. Alejandro has only met her a couple of times and knows that she’s quiet and reserved.
But everything was about to change, because you were coming to work on base as a bookkeeper for Alejandro.
—
When people met you, they were surprised. You were stunning which made sense because of course, Rudy was good looking. But than, talk started around the base.
Alejandro had overheard very gross conversations between a few of his men, making them do push ups and handing out suspensions like candy on Halloween. He didn’t expect Rudy’s wife of all people to be such a big topic. You got plenty of glances from the men on base and it made you uncomfortable and Alejandro was furious obviously. They looked like a pack of hungry wolves and it was absolutely ridiculous behavior.
After about a month or so, everything finally calmed down. Everything slowly started going back to normal, but you were still getting cat called. They would say gross things to you, stare you down. They were ridiculous.
You were sitting in the mess hall, figuring out a spreadsheet and drinking coffee. Rudy and Alejandro were getting coffee, and you were getting frustrated with the conversations you were overhearing from the table near you. “Yeah, I’d hit that. There’s no way Rudolfo is satisfying that.”
That was your last straw. You let out a very exaggerated sigh, standing up and pushing your chair in. Which gathers a few glances from those around you. You stand there with the spreadsheets in your hand. Leaning up against the table with your arms crossed. “You know I’m sitting 5 feet away from you, I can hear absolutely everything you’re saying.” You say. This catches the attention of everyone, including Rudy and Alejandro who are waiting for coffee. “Yeah? So what. Nothing I said was untrue.” He shrugs. He smiles.
You send him a very fake smile.
“Listen.. Sergeant Ramirez right? There’s a reason that none of the women on this base interact with you. Because you’re a total creep who keeps talking about having sex with a married woman.” You laugh. “I don’t know why my sex life is sooooo interesting to you, but since you must know, it’s great. Rudy is satisfying me just fine, I’m a VERY happy wife. But thanks for your.. weirdly obsessive concern.” You step closer, your face only a few inches from his. “If I hear you say “I’d hit that.” One more fucking time, I’m going to hit you right in the jaw with my fist. Am I clear?” You narrow your eyes at him. He’s clearly embarrassed, nodding his head. “Great!” You say. Walking away from your table, down the hall. “Jesus Christ.” Alejandro laughs. “Didn’t realize she had such a fire in her.” Rudy laughs, bringing his coffee up to his lips. “Oh, no tienes idea del tipo de actitud que domino en el dormitorio.” He takes a drink of his coffee, trying not to smile when Alejandro nearly chokes on his. “Jesus Rudy!” He laughs.
“I’m gonna go check on her.” Rudy laughs. He’s not wearing his normal gear yet, still just wearing black jeans and a white t-shirt. Wearing that signature comfortable grey jacket he has. He opens the door to your room, seeing you looking over something. “Hey. You alright, amor?” He breathes. You nod your head. Turning to look at him. “Don’t let them get to you.. they’re just.. immature.”
“They don’t get to me, I just hate that they think you’re so soft.” You narrow your eyes, an evil grin playing at your lips. “The Rudy I know is far more devilish than they know.” You roll your eyes. “Yeah? That’s cause I have to do something to combat that fucking attitude of yours.” He crosses his arms. You roll your eyes. “Fuck you Rudy.” You laugh. “Sí, te gustaría eso, ¿no?” He smirks. “Quizás lo haría.” You reply. He snorts, locking the door behind himself. He pushes his jacket off, discarding it on the floor as he makes his way toward you. He cups your face, kissing you hard. Helping you pull your clothes off, only stopping to tug your shirt off. He reaches for his belt but you stop his hand. “Keep it on.” You breath.
He rolls his eyes.
He grasps your wrist, tugging you until your back is to him. His lips ghosting by your ear. “I forgot..” he chuckles. The fabric of his shirt burns your bare skin. “You like the way it rattles when I fuck you.” He whispers. “I hope you think about the way I fuck you anytime you hear something rattling.” He growls, pushing you down onto the bed. You whine as he pulls your hands behind your back, lining his cock up with your aching hole. When he sinks into you, you’re gasping out. Trying to take in a breath. Turning to look at him. He pushes your hips into the mattress, rutting his hips into you. “Fuck Rudy-“ you gasp. He’s breathing hard as he fucks into you, gritting his teeth. No matter how many times he was inside of you, he’d never get used to it.
He tries to keep you quiet as he rocks his hips into yours but he doesn’t really care who hears at this point anymore. You push your hips back into him, and he smiles as he moves away. “I wanna ride you.” You breathe. He smiles. He sees your chair, sitting down in it and you move quickly sit in his lap, lining him up with your entrance again, moaning as you sink down onto him. He rests his hands on your hips, looking up at you as you start to rock your hips into him. “Fuck..” he sighs. “You’re so fucking good at this.” He breathes. “Siéntete tan jodidamente bien mi amor.” He breathes, looking up at you through his eyelashes. His eyes are dark and loving as he looks up at you. “God, no wonder they think you’re so sweet, stop looking at me like that.” You breath, pushing down on his chest and rocking into him, raising up off of him more, taking more of him down. “Ah-“ he moans, a smile still on his face. “I’m not doing anything.” He mutters. “Yeah you are, you keep looking at me like you love me or something.” You giggle, a gasp leaving your lips as he thrusts up into you. “Maybe that’s just because I love you. Love that attitude, love your personality.” He breathes. “Love this perfect body you have, love the way you make me feel. And god do I love watching you put people in their fucking place.” He gasps. Thrusting up into you faster. You clutch onto the chair for dear life. “Me vuelves loca de mierda.” He gasps, tilting his head back.
You cup his cheeks, kissing him as he holds your hips, thrusting up into you. He can feel you getting tighter around him, and he’s fucked you enough to know that you’re close, so he stands up with you, lays you back on your bed, and hammers his hips into yours until your crying out his name. “Yeah, that’s it. Cum for me.” He breathes. “Muéstrame lo buena chica que eres.” He growls. You reach your peak with a gasp, eyes screwing shut and he pins your hips to the bed so that you can’t squirm away from him as he rides out your high. He grits his teeth, letting out a cry when he reaches his own orgasm. Not pulling out of you even when he knows he should.
He takes a deep breath. Pulling away from you with a sigh, moving himself to lay next to you.
When you make eye contact, he’s got that same look in his eye that makes you laugh. “What?” He rolls his eyes. “Nothing, I love you.” You breathe. “I love you too. Now Cmere.” He breathes, pulling you into him.
A knock at the door has you both going stiff.
“I think you’ve made your point, hermano.”
#call of duty mw2#soap mw2#cod mw2#ghost mw2#captain john price#price mw2#alejandro mw2#captain price#johnny soap mactavish#mw2 smut#rudy cod#rudy x reader#rudy parra
543 notes
·
View notes
Text
the neighbour
bangchan x fem reader
genre: neighbours!au, slow burn, smut!!!!, romance, tiny angst, some fluff moments, strangers to lovers, sexual tension, dual perspective
content/warnings: +18, solo m, solo f, accidental auditory voyeurism (auralism), toys solo f, lots of dirty thoughts, lots of dirty talks, raw, oral f, oral m + deepthroating + swallowing/facial, manhandling, multiple orgasms both, body worshipping, praise kink, light degradation, edging both, begging both, thigh riding, finger sucking, hand necklace, hair pulling both, biting both, spanking, mirrors, fingering, titty and nipple play, cum play, creampie, spit, overstimulation both, aftercare + they’re both lowkey perverts sksk
words: 14k
___
When he heard the first noise, Chris sighed deeply, puffing his cheeks before releasing the air. He considered himself lucky to not have had a neighbour for the longest time - not because he was worried of them being annoying - he just liked the freedom of being the only one on that building floor.
And when he heard the second noise and the buzz of many people talking, he knew he had to go outside and check on who was in the middle of moving in.
Not because he was nosy (he was) but because he wanted to understand the kind of person (or worse, family with children? god) was moving in. Also maybe they needed help (he wasn’t actually going to help, he was just a Libra and a people pleaser).
“Hey-ya” he nodded once at some uniformed men, carrying boxes upon boxes into the next door apartment. The men tipped their little hats as a greeting and Chris leaned on the door frame with arms crossed on his chest. He was a good diplomat. He was a great diplomat even. No. A spy. And he was sure he’d get all the information he wanted out of them.
He opened his mouth to start with the first of the questions when a voice blocked the words in his throat.
“Be extra careful with that one box, please. It’s fragile.”
Chris had to start from the bottom.
No, his eyes did a quick look at everything but then he thought he must start again from the bottom.
And slowly.
He stared at your shoes. Heels. Not too tall, not too short. Pointy and black. Classic. Then your ankles. God, he loved ankles. No hosiery although it was pretty cold. Did you care too much about fashion? Or not enough? God, he loved legs too. Pencil skirt. A bit outdated but it worked. Shirt and blazer? Office worker. 9-5 person. Fuck, he definitely had to stop blasting his music at night. Unbuttoned shirt. Daring. God, he loved necks. Wait, wait. Hands? Hand. Left hand. No rings. No partners or children? Maybe. Single mom? Could be. Career woman? Perhaps even worse - full or rules.
“Are you going to keep staring or will you finally turn around, go inside, and mind your own business?”
The voice returned and Chris had to finally analyze the lips. God, he loved li-
“I’m being serious,” you added.
Chris cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “Hi. I noticed you’re moving in.”
You let your eyes drape over his body, from his nude toes (you made some kind of face and Chris felt really self conscious about his toes for a moment there), then his thighs (he shivered), and when you lifted one eyebrow he felt completely naked.
“Alright, I get it. It’s uncomfortable to be stared at,” he fought the urge to cover his crotch in the damn grey sweats he chose for the day.
“Yes, I am moving in. Congratulations, you have eyes,” you made a little smile. Those types of smiles you do when you hate someone and you kinda want them to notice but not too much.
Chris let out a dry chuckle in the form of air from the nose. “Thanks. Do you need any help?”
You were going to say no. You were definitely going to say no. Not only you had a whole minions squad to move in for you, but you also looked like the type of person to refuse help altogether.
“Actually,” you leaned towards the wall and Chris followed your movement as you grabbed a square soft-looking bag-box thing with both arms and handed it to him.
“Could you please take Nyx in for a few hours? She’s scared of all the noise.”
Chris silently took the bag-box and looked inside.
“It’s a cat,” he said, one beat before realizing again he was sounding a bit stupid.
“Do you always say at loud everything that goes on in your-”
“Don’t finish that,” he interrupted you.
You closed your mouth with a little smile.
Chris looked at the cat again. It was black with gorgeous green eyes.
“Hello?” he tried.
The kitty hissed and Chris impercetibly jolted in place, blinking a few times.
“It means she likes you,” you explained.
“Oh, really? Like owner like cat, I guess,” he gave you another glance.
Your eyelids dropped at the comparison as if a bit annoyed but not surprised. The glint of amusement didn’t disappear from your eyes though, so Chris was glad to understand he didn’t particularly cross any boundary. Besides staring at your legs.
“She doesn’t bite by the way. No worries.”
“I don’t mind a little kitty scratch,” Chris replied.
You stared him down for the second time, as if that information renewed your curiosity about him. Or maybe you were just making sure if he actually looked like able to survive a cat attack or not. Or handle your scratches.
“Can I pet her? Your kitty,” he asked.
Your gaze went back to his face. The little innuendo banter didn’t go unnoticed to you. He wondered if that was going to be the boundary that would make you snap.
“Too early. She needs time to warm up to you,” you simply said.
Chris nodded. “Of course.”
He went inside and placed the kitty near the living room window to have both sun and shade. Not that cats were plants by any means, but he never owned one.
Then he realized he didn’t even ask your name or get any kind of information as he planned.
Maybe he wasn’t that good of a diplomat as he thought.
___
You sat down on the plastic covered couch as the last man exited the apartment and you stared at the myriad of boxes in front of you.
“Fuck,” you whispered, one hand to rub at your temples. You wished you could still have the keys to your old place for the night. You weren’t in the mood to make your bed. Maybe you were going to sleep on the couch, still dressed and makeup on and stuff.
Then you remembered Nyx.
The neighbour opened the door after a few seconds.
“Hey,” he greeted. “Figured it was you.”
“Hey,” you said back, a bit awkwardly crossing your arms on your chest. “Thank you for taking care of Nyx,” you added.
The man took a step back as to invite you in. “It was honestly a pleasure. I realized I really enjoy cats.”
You thought for a second if you should actually get in or just ask him to go grab her and leave. But then you saw Nyx sprawled on his couch, paws in the air and all, and a smile bloomed on your face.
“You should not have let her out. She probably left so much hair around,” you took of your heels and walked towards her. His living room rug felt very soft under your toes and you made a mental note to ask him where he got it so you could plagiarize the choice.
The man closed the door behind you and walked the same route, sitting on the couch arm and staring at Nyx with a genuinely fond smile.
“I do not mind hair at all.”
You knew he didn’t mean it in a dirty innuendo way that time.
Nyx purred happily against your hand as you pet her. “Let’s go home, baby,” you whispered.
“Wait, stay. I am in the middle of making dinner. I’m sure you got nothing to eat today,” the man got back on his feet and indicated towards the kitchen.
You got up from the crouching position. “Thank you. But I was thinking I could order something. It’s fine.”
He bit his lower lip as if wondering if your refusal was politeness or if you hated him and wanted to just go home. You realized he was lowkey cute conflicted that way and you chuckled.
“Why are you laughing?” he asked, the smile already blooming on his face as well.
“What are you making?” you ignored him. “Chicken breast and rice?”
The man smiled again with a hum. “Oh, so you think I look fit although that comment feels a bit insulting.”
You chuckled again shaking your head in disbelief.
“Well, it’s not chicken breast tonight but if you want that come over any meal of the day besides Friday night and I’ll probably serve you that,” he continued.
“Okay, noted. We’ll see each other only on Friday nights.”
“It’s noodle soup,” he finally answered. “And I think it’s ready.”
You watched his large shoulders as he walked towards the kitchen to check on it.
___
Your silence told Chris that you considered noodle soup a decent meal and he hoped it was decent. He wasn’t a great cook but his food was alright enough to not make him die and for the longest time he thought that was a decent level of skill. Now, seeing the spoon inching towards your mouth he really wanted the food to actually taste good.
“You don’t have to stare at me like that. I won’t die,” you lifted your gaze on him.
Chris exhaled at the tension. “I’m just worried.”
You smiled. “I can see that. I’m sure it’s more than okay.”
The reassurance didn’t help ease his nervousness.
He lifted one eyebrow, teeth gritting as he stared at the way you gently slurped on the soup then had a mouthful of noodles right after.
Your cheeks puffed a little as you chewed and the view made him smile for a moment before he remembered you were about to communicate your review. He got nervous again.
You swallowed and nodded. “Good.”
Chris blinked. “Good?”
You hummed.
“That’s it?”
You scoffed incredulous.
“I’m joking I’m joking,” he chuckled and grabbed his own chopsticks.
It went quiet for the next moments but Chris didn’t feel awkward. Nyx was rubbing herself on both of your calves and the way your eyes would soften looking down at her, with that little eyebrow lift and the sweet voice made Chris feel some type of way.
“Thank you for the meal and taking care of her,” you said and Chris waved his hand as his mouth was full.
“No need to thank me,” he replied after gulping.
“What’s your favourite food?” you asked after some more silence. Small talk huh?
Chris looked towards an imaginary point, thinking. “I like pretty much anything.”
“Okay, then next Friday you’ll eat whatever I’ll give you.”
He locked eyes with you as you reached for the glass of water and had a sip. The silence engulfed you again.
God, he felt like leaning on the table and biting your lower lip with his teeth and he didn’t even know your name.
___
The following days passed quickly as you worked full time and came home to a disastrous apartment still filled with boxes. You could swear you’d get rid of 10 and 20 appeared in their place.
You were sighing, absentmindedly rubbing your lower back while the other arm was trying to carry a few flat packed boxes you managed to empty that evening.
You weren’t sure of the time but the young woman walking towards your neighbour’s door in what seemed like a night booty call told you it was probably pretty late. She was gorgeous and you had to force yourself to look away and close your mouth as she gave you a small smiling nod, passing you by and engulfing you in a dizzying perfume. You walked quickly towards the elevator in your indoors duck slippers, not in the mood to make eye contact with the man who took care of your kitty (actual cat) and fed you last week as he’d open the door to let the woman in.
It was Thursday and you realized with a certain degree of embarassment that you have been looking forward the Firday night dinner since the moment you left his apartment after that noodle soup date.
You couldn’t understand why the sight of that woman could make you feel that uneasy and you hated yourself for the speed of your brain trying to make up excuses as to why suddenly you wouldn’t be free anymore the following day.
When you came back up the woman was presumably inside already, probably sipping some fancy wine from a fancy glass with toes in the fancy carpet the man had - that apartment complex was for wealthy people, you weren’t stupid to guess the neighbour man was pretty well off as well - or perhaps already bent over the same table you sat at the previous week.
The quiet of your apartment got disrupted by a single thud, like something falling on the ground, or well, a bed frame hitting the wall as someone throws themselves on it - or gets thrown.
Suddenly you felt like wearing your coat and shoes, and after giving Nyx a little head kiss, you exited the apartment again for a weird urge to buy a night snack from the corner shop.
___
“Working this late?”
A deep voice made you snap your head upwards, your fingers stopped in front of the door pad as you were about to type your password.
The neighbour was bringing out dirty laundry, you realized, and you wondered if he intended to wash the bedding right after the woman left. The thought was a bit ridiculous and it put you in a bit of a better mood.
“No. I went out for a corner shop trip,” you explained and the man blinked as if finally realizing you were wearing pajama pants under your coat and your hair didn’t look work appropriate. The plastic bag in your hand was also still full of the snacks you didn’t have any appetite to eat while counting minutes sitting at the white and cheap tables outside the shop wondering how come time goes by fast when you have sex but it’s so slow when others have sex.
“Got any good snacks?” he asked just to fill in the silence, you figured.
You hummed as a reply. “Laundry this late?” you asked in return.
The man looked down at the basket in his arms as if he forgot he was was carrying it. “Oh. Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d get productive instead.”
Good excuse, you gave him that.
“Well, have fun, then,” you pushed the front door in, waving a hand. The man gave you a little square smile, making his dimples pop. “Good snacking.”
You closed the door then for some reason turned around, staring at him through the peephole as he walked towards the elevator.
___
Chris loaded the washing machine with an empty head. He didn’t think much about the one night stand. It has been a normal, not the best, but satisfactory one night stand. Just the usual. He’d normally work a bit or go to sleep after the person would leave - this time he was doing laundry. All standard stuff.
But then he saw you and he felt a weird lump in his throat, as if he got caught red handed.
Maybe it was because his date left minutes prior and he was still a bit disoriented, or maybe it was your nighttime look, the youthful but tired expression on your face with no make-up on, or maybe the sleepy eyes you had.
Or maybe it was the impression that you left your house on purpose.
He couldn’t recall if he made the woman loud enough for you to hear anything and his bed technically should not creak, but he wasn’t fully sure because he was too - well, busy - to analyse that in the moment.
He scratched his head, staring at the way the washing machine slowly started to hum.
___
You wanted to pretend like you somehow forgot about the dinner.
Of course, you didn’t. And honestly it would have been rude to.
Somehow you were hoping that he forgot about it.
It was a random invitation anyway, a joke. You didn’t give him a specific time frame. He didn’t even confirm that he’d come.
Somehow you were hoping that he didn’t forget about it.
And if he did, should you just go and knock on his door to say hey so are you coming over or what?
You shook your head, stirring the pasta sauce with a shiver down your spine. That would be- it would be- you couldn’t even think of a proper word for that feeling. Somewhat along the lines of humiliating.
Or would that be cool? Just knock knock hey, I have dinner.
You sighed, tapping the wooden spoon on the side of the pan before placing it down on a plate.
Why were you getting so worked up over a damn dinner with some random neighbour?
What if he had plans Friday night, anyway? He looked like he could be a busy and sociable man.
You sighed again, looking around the apartment which you deep cleaned. Then you stared at the abundant portion of pasta boiling gently.
God, you didn’t even know his name.
___
Chris looked in the mirror hung near the entrance door for the last time. He felt stupid. And his hair wasn’t cooperating.
He wondered if you’d think he only wears the same black shirt all the time so he wore a black shirt with a different logo to convey the message that he changes clothes like a normal human being. Not that it mattered.
He was ashamed to admit that he has been lowkey pacing the apartment for a bit that day, brainstorming solutions for the weird up in the air dinner invitation. He should have asked for confirmation last night.
What if it was a mere joke? A random polite made up phrase in the let’s go out for coffee sometime category?
But what if you were waiting for him? He needed a back up plan in case he showed up and you’d blankly stare at him with no dinner prepared.
He felt very stupid.
And he was glad you couldn’t see the way he jumped in place and felt his heart fall down to his ass when he heard the doorbell.
“Hey,” he opened.
“Hello,” you lifted your gaze.
Were you a bit- nervous?
“I came by just in case you forgot- well, not that you’d forget, but just in case I wasn’t clear enough about the dinner invitation, but, of course, if you made other plans in the meantime and you’re not free anymore or if you’ve already eaten then-”
“I was on my way to come over,” he gently interrupted your rambling. You unclasped your hands and put them behind your back at that information. You relaxed.
“Oh,” you smiled, “well, then. I made pasta. Hope it’s okay.”
___
“Hello, baby,” the neighbour giggled entering your apartment. He placed the wine bottle he prepared - sign he really didn’t forget, you were relieved to notice - on the floor and knelt down as Nyx lazily strutted towards him and rubbed her head then back on his hand. “I really missed you.”
You walked towards the kitchen to grab the food.
“You can come over and see her whenever you want to. I somehow feel like she missed you too.”
The man got up and walked the distance towards the arranged table, placing the bottle on it. “Did she?”
His tone was low and you wondered if he talked like that to his last night date. Or maybe he could do worse? More? How deep could his voice go?
“Yeah. I guess you have good vibes,” you complimented him.
He eyed the pasta you were carrying and he whistled impressed.
“Definitely better than my noodle soup.”
“Well, let’s see about that,” you gave him a look.
“You don’t seem like you’re bad at something,” he watched you serve him while sitting down.
“Perhaps this is the only thing I’m bad at,” you murmured back.
For some reason, maybe the ambient lights, or the closeness of your plates, maybe the way the shadows on his face looked accentuating his jaw, or maybe his gaze, compelled you to talk softly.
The neighbour liked your reply and gave you a smile, those languid smiles with one corner lifted more than the other.
You served yourself and sat down.
Your gazes met again and that was his cue to taste and review. You could understand why he was nervous last week.
“Hmmm,” he simply replied after a long long chewing moment.
You lifted one eyebrow. “Hmmm?”
He chuckled. “You must be so curious to know. I want to keep you waiting some more. It’s fun.”
You scoffed amused, taking a sip of water. “Well, I won’t beg for any comment, if that’s your plan.”
Did he do this with his date too? Edging her as she looked eager for a single touch? Or did he edge her when she was about to orgasm in his arms? Did she beg? Was he capable of making a woman beg?
Well, you were close to say please is this good or not I’m going to go insane, any moment now so probably he was more than capable of doing that.
“It’s very good,” he finally said with a proud expression, seeing your shaking and annoyed leg under the table. “I really like it.”
“Hmmm,” you weren’t fully pleased, but you tasted the pasta too and you let the smile bloomed on your lips warm up the space between you.
___
It was a bit too spicy for him, Chris realized after eating half the plate. But he wasn’t just going to back away. Maybe that was a test. Do you only entertain men who can handle the spice? Well, he was going to finish the plate and ask for more.
“Your apartment is coming up nicely,” he commented after a moment of silence. The bottle was almost empty and he really liked the light in your eyes because of the glass you were sipping from.
You looked around as if staring at it from his perspective. “Still a long way to go but I am pleased with it so far.”
“It’s curious. We have specular apartments.”
Chris made a mental note to remember that you were probably sleeping head to head. Maybe he was too loud last night. Did you mind? Was the noise bothersome? Did you even hear? Somehow he wished you did.
“I met with your girlfriend last night in the corridor,” you casually thew it out there as if reading his mind.
So you met.
He knew that you knew she wasn’t his girlfriend. You just wanted confirmation, didn’t you?
It made his fingers tingle. He had a sip of his wine.
“Did you talk?” he simply asked.
He felt a bit cruel seeing the faint shadow of something in your eyes. And he felt even more cruel because he loved it.
“No, just said hi.” You had a sip of your wine.
Should he drag it some more?
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Chris finally said.
___
The relief that washed over you made you cringe. You pretended to be a bit surprised. Not too much. A bit disinterested. Neutral.
“Oh,” you just said, unsure of how people replied to something like that. Questions roamed your head? Why not? Do you have another person you’re interested in? Are you too busy for a committed relationship? Was she not your type? Are you still not over your ex? Are you some kind of fuckboy?
But none felt appropriate.
“Do you have a partner?”
He took you by surprise. “No,” you replied. “I am too busy I guess.”
The neighbour leaned back in his chair, his fingers lazily making the glass leg roll.
“Can I ask what you do?”
You rested your face in your palm. “You can ask me whatever you want.”
The man smiled.
“I’m an Executive Director,” you continued.
He smiled more widely. “Of course you are.”
“What does that mean?” you leaned in with a giggle.
The man shrugged. “You said you wouldn’t beg. Also you look like someone who doesn’t take orders, you give them.”
You relaxed in your chair as well, arms thoughtfully crossed on your chest, taking in the information. You were sure you didn’t look like that but you accepted the compliment.
“Also, you live in this luxury apartment complex,” he added as if that could make his reasoning more rational and less rooted in his will to compliment you.
You nodded with an amused expression. “Well, and what do you do? Since you also live in this apartment complex?”
The man stretched his arms and back. “I’m self employed.”
You tilted your head to the side waiting for more information.
“I’m just a music producer.”
Somehow it wasn’t surprising. You nodded. “Why ‘just’? That’s very impressive.”
“Well, it’s not more impressive than your job,” he replied.
“Knowing the C major scale is already very impressive, what are you talking about?”
The neighbour blinked a few times then gently threw his head back in a bright laugh. You stared at his closed eyes. Then his perfect teeth. Then his dimples and the earrings shaking a bit in his ears. His neck was extended and it just exposed further the chicken and rice body he was farming. Gorgeous, although it made you a little sad and you hoped he was eating well. Not that you cared for a stranger. You didn’t care at all. You didn’t care-
He opened his eyes again and your gazes met.
You didn’t care?
___
Chris was confused. He discovered everything he initially needed for his nosy spirit. But somehow it wasn’t enough and with every question he asked, a new question came to mind. Your family? Siblings? How old is Nyx? Did you have other pets before? Why did you move? What did you study?
You were polite and answered each and every one of them, exchanging the favour of asking him the same back. How long has he been producing? Was it hard? Are his songs popular? Oh, you probably heard some of them around? No way, you made that song??
Chris was very confused, especially since it was very late and he was exhausted, yet he didn’t want to move his ass from the damn chair and go home.
But then you hid a little yawn and he realized he should probably just go. He thanked you again for the dinner. Should he ask you out for the next Friday?
But you perhaps just wanted to repay him the favour. Booking you for three Fridays in a row would have been too much, he figured. You looked like a busy and sociable woman.
He was outside your door and you smiled at him seeing him out although he only had to take a few steps towards his own apartment.
“Well, goodnight-” he kept that phrase suspended.
You blinked at him.
“Y/N,” you finally said with a little smile.
He repeated your name.
“Goodnight-” you replied.
“Chris,” he added.
“Goodnight Chris.”
___
Chris felt like a pervert. No, worse. He felt like a stalker. Was it weird that he memorized the time you’d go to work and the time you came back? He didn’t try to, for real. It just happened. He’d hear your morning alarm at 7am and the way your shower ran ten minutes afterwards. Then a pause, he figured you prepared breakfast and got dressed. Then the sound of your hairdryer or whatever you did to your hair, he wasn’t fully sure. Then another pause. He liked to imagine you were putting on some makeup. His 7am brain has been busy imagining you putting on bright red lipstick, gently bent over your sink to see yourself better in the mirror, although he fully knew you would never wear that kind of lipstick to work.
Then the sound of the door closing. It wasn’t a loud bang, you were considerate, but Chris had good hearing.
He’d sleep late in the mornings usually. But your routine influenced him. So his routine became waking up at 7am with you, listen to your movements, then after you’d be gone, he’d also get up and go about his day.
Was this normal neighbour behaviour? He wasn’t sure. He’s never had one before you.
During the day he wouldn’t think of you at all. Maybe once in a while.
And then he’d hear the sound of your door opening and closing. Nyx’s meow as she’d welcome you and your muffled far away baby talk, probably calling her my love and other nicknames Chris low-key wanted to hear directed at himself.
He wouldn’t listen to you after that, he was a busy man afterwards, and he didn’t want to be a full-on creep.
But he knew you’d get in bed at around 10pm so he started to go as well. Not to sleep, he could hear the sound of the Tik Toks you were watching or the movie you’d put on. Sometimes it would be silent and he was dying of curiousity to know what were you doing. Reading? Puzzles? Listening to music over earphones?
One night it was particularly quiet, maybe you fell asleep, and Chris was about to grab his laptop and do some work when he heard a low buzz.
It was so faint that the wondered if he was just imagining it. Maybe his dirty mind was just trying to fill in his brain with images of what he’d secretly desire you to be doing. But no, it was there. He fought the urge to place his ear on the wall like a total loser and ignored it for the night, blasting music in his ears instead.
But then it happened again the following night and Chris sighed, heat travelling down his abdomen. He scratched his ear then nape. Then he huffed, closing the laptop and putting it on the side. He didn’t want to listen but he couldn’t push himself to not listen either. He was just curious, he told himself. Also, it wasn’t his fault you were masturbating in the head to head bedrooms you guys had and it wasn’t his fault that the walls weren’t particularly thick for a luxury apartment complex.
But he wasn’t curious only about the buzz.
Well, yes. He wondered what kind of toy could that be. Was it small? Was it internal or external? Was it a vibrating dildo or a clit sucking device?
But no, not really. He was more curious about the sounds you’d make. Were you a noisy person? Would you be loud or muffle your voice into the pillow? What position were you in?
God, he felt like a pervert. It wasn’t his fault you were masturbating but it was his fault for listening like that and imagining.
He reached for the headphones when the first noise arrived. He froze, fingers in mid air.
The noises increased in number and volume. Whimpers and moans.
He let his hand fall on the bed and he dug the nails into the covers ever so slightly.
He blinked, eyes towards the ceiling, your eyes probably rolled back in your head. Was that good? You were probably swallowing that toy so well, all wet and warm. He exhaled.
Like a reply, you kept moaning. He shivered, a single shiver coming from his toes up his scalp. He closed his eyes for a moment then opened again.
It was no surprise that he was hard. He wasn’t particularly dressed either so he couldn’t even lie to himself and say that he didn’t notice.
“Shit,” he mumbled out loud, passing one hand in his dark curls, then on his face. It stopped on his chest, where it buzzed with self restraintful force.
No, he wasn’t going to rub one out to the sound of his neighbour. He was not going to do that.
But you sounded so good although muffled, and the universe gifted him with too much imagination for his own good. His hand moved on its own on his flinching stomach going over the short trimmed hair and he exhaled as if he has not been breathing for the past minutes.
Oh, it felt better than usual. He was way past teenage years but with the way the precum leaked on his fingers, the thumb collecting it, he felt like a virgin masturbating for the first time. His adam apple traveled up and down his throat and he closed his eyes, pushing the head into the pillow, trying to pace the movement of his hand with the rhythm of your moans. He’s never felt dirtier and it went so quick to his head that he didn’t need much. With a groan then a higher pitched whimper he came messily on his stomach, some of it reaching his chest. Your moans increased in the same moment and Chris thought he was going to go insane, imagining you sprawled and shaking because of your own orgasm.
If he came so quickly like that, what was he going to do if you were in his arms?
___
It has been a few horny days, you realized as your hand automatically reached for he drawer on your right. Then you stopped. You felt a bit tired of your toys and that month’s ovulation felt too intense for you to keep using them.
Somehow, well, somehow you wanted the real deal. Should you go out? Go back on Tinder?
You sighed and crossed your arms on your chest, eyebrows furrowed staring at the ceiling.
Fuck it, you got up, throwing the duvet on one side.
It has been too long since you went outside or dressed up. Hell, it has been too long since you actually fucked someone, and although you mastered your own shit down to a notch, you really missed human contact. Perhaps you were very lonely and not even that horny.
The dress was on, heels were worn, hair done and your girlfriends complimented your makeup. The night seemed promising.
The man you eyed a few hours into the night wasn’t that bad either. Decent height, good breath, normal man cologne, and the alcohol in your system did the rest. You didn’t even need to hear him talk or anything. You brought him home and got down to business.
You tried, really.
And the poor dude probably also tried a lot.
But nothing could beat the way you felt on your own, thinking about your neighbour Chris with a toy buried deep inside of you pretending it was him.
___
Chris decided he wasn’t going to be creepy that night. He wondered what was going on in your life to make you masturbate that much every night. It was completely normal but he usually masturbated mostly because of stress so he couldn’t help but ask himself if you were also very stressed or if the job was talking a toll on you.
Maybe he could go over and check, maybe with the excuse to see Nyx. The evil part inside of him wanted to go over the moment you started to touch yourself, just so he could interrupt and force you to come to the door, maybe all heated up, maybe a bit pissed at him. He wanted to see your annoyed expression at the fact you couldn’t finish. He wanted you to be so pissed and horny to just slam him into the damn door and find relief through his body. Chris didn’t want anything back. He could have just watched the way you sit on his thigh and ride it, head thrown back and your nails digging into his shoulders. He could be completely content just to stare at the way your breasts moved gently, not as hard as if you were to ride his cock, but almost. He really wanted to see your frustratred expression as rocking on his thigh would not be enough for you so you’d stare at him frantically, begging with your eyes for more, because you’d never beg with your words. Chris would pretend he doesn’t understand just to see you even more impatient. Even more eager. Perhaps he could drive you to the point of pushing him down the couch and sitting on his face.
The slam against the wall made him open his eyes. That wasn’t a familiar sound. The second thud made his lift one eyebrow. Were you renovating the bedroom?
But then a male grunt made his boiling blood chill in one second.
You had guests.
You had guests who were probably slamming into you given the sheer intensity of your sudden moans.
___
“Busy and enjoyable night?”
You looked to your right where a man was loading his own washing mashine. He wasn’t looking at you but no one was around so you knew he was talking to you. You took a moment to stare at his profile, the perfect flinching jaw muscle the only detail showing his emotions, whatever they were, on his otherwise calm face.
“I guess you can say so,” you answered, a bit embarassed. “Was I too noisy?”
“I wasn’t sleeping so I didn’t mind the noise,” Chris finally looked at you. He was very casual about it.
“The fact you were awake,” you threw some other clothes in the washing machine, “makes it all somehow worse. I am sorry you had to hear all that.” You hoped he didn’t see the bed sheets you were washing but if he heard you the whole night it was probably useless to hide it.
You gave him a small smile and he imitated you. You looked as if exchanging opinions on the weather instead of commenting on your one night stand.
“I was working, so big loud earphones on. Didn’t hear much.”
Although he made sure to say that, you couldn’t fully trust him. The way he even started that conversation in the first place instead of pretending to not have heard anything, as it would have been polite to, was as if he wanted you to know he heard.
But instead of feeling shame, the situation just made your blood run faster. He heard you. He heard your moans. Was he even a bit turned on? Or maybe just pissed because you ruined his night?
“To answer your full question, busy yes, enjoyable?” you trailed off, closing the washing mashine and staring at the way the clothes started to lazily twirl around.
“not much,” you finished.
Chris was also done and he was grabbing the hamper. His eyes looked like two cuts under his curly fringe. You wondered if his hair was soft as it looked. The dude’s hair wasn’t that soft and when he went down on you and you grabbed it, your mind couldn’t help but imagine Chris’ curls instead.
He was waiting for more information.
“Didn’t make me cum once,” you shrugged and didn’t give him any time to comment on it, leaving for the stairs instead.
___
Chris turned his head to watch your back disappear behind the corner. His gaze trailed down on your ass then legs.
He exhaled through his nose.
Why was he annoyed?
Because you fucked someone? Or because you didn’t get fucked well enough the way you deserved?
Your perfume was lingering in the air as he made his way up on the stairs as well and he waited the same elevator you took. The image of you getting railed into the mattress didn’t leave his mind for a minute since last night. But he knew that no fantasy of his could get close to reality, seeing you in your skimmy pajamas that morning. Your hair, the exposed delicate skin, the curve of your neck, your lazy amused voice.
Chris gulped once as he entered the elevator. He pictured taking you against that wall. Or maybe, against the damn mirror, so you could see your expression as your knees would give up from the sheer intensity of the orgasm he’d give you.
But he couldn’t fully blame the guy. Chris wasn’t that confident either and he was sure no man could prevent cumming in his pants in seconds if you were sprawled on the bed underneath him.
What the guy had to be blamed for is that he had the opportunity to pleasure the most incredible woman Chris knew, and he failed completely.
He was sure you won’t see him again, but if the dude came around the second time Chris thought he could break his fingers, that way maybe he could remind him they exist and can be used.
He exhaled through his nose again when the elevator communicated with a ding that it arrived on the right floor.
You were waiting for him and Chris stopped in his tracks for a moment, before walking up to you.
His gaze fell on the plate your were holding.
“Made some pie,” you smiled. Your eyes were shining a bit. If that was your expression when embarrassed then he really wanted to find ways to make you shy again.
“Take it as a token of my sorry I made you listen to me moan at 2am,” you added.
“You really don’t have to feel sorry about it,” Chris smiled back but he really wanted the plate, the hamper down at his feet already to free his hands.
“Well, you clearly wanted something from me by mentioning it,” your eyes shone again. Yes, that was your embarrassed expression, but there was something more to you, he realized. Malice.
Chris didn’t confirm nor denied. “I will enjoy it, thank you,” he simply replied, your fingers touching as he grabbed the pie. Your hands were a bit cold and a shiver went down his spine, imagining those fingers trailing down his body until they would warm up on his skin.
“I hope you do,” you said then turned around, disappearing behind your apartment door.
Chris put down the pie on his kitchen table then looked down at his hand which was still faintly burning from your cold touch.
He hummed and closed his eyes, sliding it under his waistband. He fucked his fist harder and rougher than usual.
___
You realized finding human contact wasn’t that satisfactory after all, so you huffed that night and after a short tik tok trip you reached for your drawer.
Then you changed your mind. Could you just do with manual that night? It would take more time but you somehow were in the mood to be a bit frustrated physically so that the emotional frustration could be drowned instead.
You relaxed into your pillow and the realization that Chris was probably on his bed in the same position made you bit your lower lip. Your delusions made you think he was a bit upset that morning because he was jealous but then again, if he wanted to he would, right? So he probably didn’t want to.
That thought took you out of the horniness you were slipping into and brought a little of sadness instead.
Hell, he’s never even asked for your phone number. Not even as a neighbour. Weren’t you at least supposed to talk about hot water and the trash bins?
No, you weren’t horny anymore. You were pissed.
But you didn’t need Chris to masturbate.
You could just do it as usual. You didn’t need to imagine his palms on you. Nor his veiny forearms. Definitely not his pillowy and pink lips, dragging down your skin.
Your first whimper took even you by surprise but you couldn’t stop. Not when the image of Chris’ face between your thighs was burning inside your closed eyelids. Would he be gentle? Would he be rough? The only thing you were sure of was the way his velvety and wet tongue would feel like. Would he grunt while eating you out? Would he moan, desperately trying to find relief in the friction with the mattress?
Oh that was a good image.
That was such a good image that your toes curled and your fingers picked up the pace. Was he a head pusher? Or was he a good boy waiting for you to please him with your mouth the way you wanted to?
You moaned louder.
You were so close. So so so fucking close.
And then the knock on the door made your legs shake in frustration. You opened your eyes, fingers still deep inside of you, and you furrowed your eyebrows. If the person didn’t leave in the next second you’d lose that goddam orgasm.
The person knocked again.
Fuck.
Brain hazy with murderous intent and anger you didn’t even consider that the only person to be able to get inside the building and knock instead of ringing the outside bell was your neighbour.
“Hey ya,” Chris smiled, lifting one plastic bag. It clinked and you figured it was beer.
___
Chris ruffled his hair at the whimpers.
He couldn’t go on like that anymore. The evil plan to well, edge? no, cockblock you and your toy? yeah, sounded too evil for him. But after you careless display of noise with the dude the previous night he though you deserved it.
At the second louder whimper he was already outside, all of the beer he accumulated in his fridge in a bag and the poor excuse of hey im bored and I wanted to see Nyx, well, I wanted to see you as well.
“...I hope I am not interrupting anything,” he repeated the phrase and completed it after you opened the door.
You were a mess, a complete mess. Your eyes were shining and he could tell you were boiling hot from the effort of fucking yourself and probably from the anger of being interrupted.
He loved it.
“No, I was- uh,” you took some steps backwards and sideways to welcome him inside. “Working out,” you finished.
Nyx came meowing towards him and he knelt down, taking her in his arms. The sleeveless shirt he was wearing didn’t leave anything to the imagination and you wondered if he also has been working out - actually working out - prior coming to have those huge and pumped biceps.
“Hello, hello,” he nuzzled his nose into Nyx’s and you smiled a little, taking the beer bag and putting it down on the low coffee table you added to the decor some days ago.
“Working out?” you heard him ask after a cuddling moment with your kitty (the real cat).
“Yeah,” you turned around, one hand on your lower back, one to scratch your forehead. “You know,” you shrugged, “Youtube pilates and such.”
Chris nodded, joining you near the couch and letting Nyx down.
“That’s great. I’ve never tried Pilates before.”
“Are you flexible?”
He thought about it. “A decent amount. Not too much I guess, though? Are you?”
You gulped at the question, your brain still hazy witht he images your dirty mind created for you some minutes ago.
“Yes? I think so,” you sat down.
He hummed as if your frantic state amused him. Well, you were probably very amusing to look at. A whole mess. And you wondered why he didn’t give you his number? Yeah.
He looked around and you thought it was because he wanted to comment on the new decor. “Do you not use any mat?”
You were starstruck. “A mat?”
Chris looked at you. “Mat.”
“Oh, it’s uh, in my bedroom.”
He nodded.
“Do you just go to the gym?” you really wanted to move the subject away from you.
He leaned forward to grab the bag and take out two beers.
“Yup. I do mostly weights.”
“Of course,” you commented.
Chris opened the bottles of beer on each other - which you actually found sexy - and handed you one. You jolted in place when you felt the cold glass on the back of your hand.
“You seem very jumpy? Is everything okay?” he murmured.
You took the bottle and chugged. “Yes.”
You couldn’t look him in the eyes. He was talking, something interesting even, but you couldn’t concentrate. You didn’t know if it was the fact you’ve been masturbating to the thought of him ten minutes ago, or if he somehow was more fine than usual that night, or if you just were getting heated up because of the beer you kept downing like water, but you really wanted to just jump on him.
He kept moving on the couch, backwards, forwards, side, adjusting his hair, his shorts. He was pissing you off because your eyes were forced to glue on either his arms, or his rib muscles, or his hands, or his lips, or his eyes, or his jaw, or his-
“Right?” he asked again.
“Huh?” you woke up.
Chris chuckled. “Where are you?”
“I am here,” you replied, hand moving the bottle to your mouth in an already repetitive movement.
Chris stopped the bottle by placing his hand on top of yours.
“What are you doing?” you asked.
He opened his mouth.
Chris smiled. “It’s empty.”
You looked down and you realized it was indeed missing any beer. But you couldn’t let go because his hand was still holding yours.
You looked at him. “Can I have another one?”
His eyes analyzed your features as if to understand if you were drunk or not. Perhaps he decided that you weren’t. “Yes,” he replied.
You waited.
He didn’t move his hand.
“Then let go?” you tried.
Chris let his fingers slide down the back of your hand then forearm before leaning in and grabbing the full bottle on the table in front of you.
The swif of his cologne made you swallow dryly. He was so close. He was too close. He was too close for your tipsy and horny brain.
His touch, the second time, gave you goosebumps and, fuck, he noticed. His gazed trailed your nude arms as he exchanged the bottles in your hand and your gaze was on his face. So you noticed the languid look on it, as he slowly traced your skin with the fingertip of his ring finger, from elbow to shoulder.
You shivered and the goosebumps got more severe.
“You’re very sensitive,” he murmured.
___
He was having fun.
He was having so much fucking fun.
You eyes looked wide, staring down his finger touching your skin like that. Your quivering eyes, your trembling lower lip, your quick breath. Was he being too evil?
He touched your beer with his and took a sip.
The sound woke you from your trance and you imitated him, licking the opening of the bottle with your tongue for a moment before pressing your lips into it to drink.
Was that a habit of yours or were you also set on making him go crazy that night?
“What were you talking about before?” you resumed the conversation.
Chris chuckled. “So you weren’t listening.”
You lifted your legs on the couch to sit on them. Your knees was touching his thigh and he leaned into it instead of moving away. He was as close as to rest his arm on your legs. Perhaps he should do that.
“I got lost, sorry,” you smiled back.
Chris took another sip and indeed rested his arm on your legs. You didn’t flinch.
But when his hand naturally cupped one of your knees, the nude thigh in your pajama shorts got covered in goosebumps again.
His chuckle was bright as he laughed at you. “You’re very very sensitive.”
You rolled your eyes with an amused scoff. “It’s normal. Everyone is like this.”
“I am not,” he challenged you.
Would you fall in the trap?
Your eyes tightened in a knowing smile taking another sip. Perhaps you were drinking too much too quickly but he wasn’t going to be the boss of you.
“I believe you,” you simply said.
Chris let his tongue poke his cheek in a visible display of disappointment and he loved the way you giggled.
And when you suddenly dragged your nails on his bicep he was ashamed to realize he probably needed a pillow to cover his crotch.
Of course you picked on that. Of course you had to.
“Is this all it takes?” you voice got suddenly low and sensual, confident as you haven’t been that night. You were having fun now.
Chris didn’t let himself lose. Not even when you reached his nape and you slowly played with the short hairs of his undercut.
His gaze never broke the connection with yours. “I’ll be honest. I’ve been bricked up since I heared your whimpers on the other side of the wall.”
Your hand stopped and your face fell. It wasn’t anger or annoyance. It wasn’t even shame as he thought. It was arousal and shock. Maybe even relief.
Chris openes his mouth to add something else. Were you going to hit him?
And when you suddenly leaned in he was almost sure you were going to give him a good slap but he found the air knocked out of his lungs instead thanks to your lips of his.
One second he was looking at you and the other he was grabbing your ass as your straddled his thighs. You hummed into the kiss and he imitated you, one palm to lift your shorts up and the other to rub at your back until reaching the back of your neck.
You were soft and warm. So soft and warm and he wanted you closer to him so he pulled towards himself until he felt your body flush on his. His fingers frantically came in the front, to feel better what he was feeling with his chest, your braless breast, first on top of your shirt then, slowly, underneath it.
___
You shivered and your broke the kiss to moan against his lips. His hands were warm and your breasts too tender. Your blood was buzzing like electricity under your skin and you desperately wanted Chris to touch every inch of it with whatever he wanted to - his body, his hands, his lips, his tongue.
Chris, the neighbour.
The neighbour that attached that damned plump lips to your neck now making you flutter your eyelashes. He wasn’t even doing that much. He wasn’t basically doing anything. Then why were you already moaning? Why were you feeling on the verge of shaking in his arms? Fuck, those arms that were wrapped around your waist, so huge and too strong for your own good. Would he throw you on the couch soon with those? You let your head fall back as he traveled down your throat, one hand to keep you in place, the other groping at the soft flesh of your ass. Then his mouth, his open wet and hot mouth, felt your cleavage and you couldn’t see anymore.
You whispered his name, or you moaned it, you weren't sure, and you felt his hard cock flinch underneath you. You hummed, hands grabbing at his hair, pushing his fringe back to see his eyes. They were sharp looking up at you from the swell of your breasts. Just undress me already, you wanted to yell, but you knew he enjoyed taking his time with you.
___
Chris needed all of his self control to not reach down and feel if you were as plump and wet as he imagined. He could tell you were on the verge to beg. You were almost there. He really really really wanted to hear your pretty voice use your polite words. Just a single please would be enough for him. So he waited. He let his tongue tease your hard nipples on top of the shirt, elliciting the sweetest moans from you and the way you rolled your eyes back made him wonder if that guy you fucked was completely clueless or if Chris was just too skilled.
But Chris could also tell he wouldn’t break you that easily the moment you let your hips down even more and rocked them once from the base of his cock to the tip.
His throat growled without him wanting too and the sound made you pull his hair a bit to make him look at you. Your eyes were presenting a challenge and he smiled teasingly on top of your chest.
Okay, he thought, and in a single movement your shirt was off of you and on the floor somewhere across the room.
He thought having you half naked sitting on him would add to your mental fuckery but he didn’t take into consideration what the view would do to him.
“Fuck,” he murmured, cupping your breasts as if seeing a pair for the first time. He gulped and looked back up right when you leaned in to kiss him deeply, arms around his neck and tongue inside his mouth.
He lost it. He completely lost it, feeling your nude back with his knuckles, and you scent, god, it inebriated him so much that he was the one on the verge to beg you for something, anything, just fucking anything.
___
You felt like mush. You felt like putty in his arms, like nothing. And when you broke off the kiss to breathe and he went back to torture your nipples, this time no fabric to rub on it but just his delicious and wet tongue on them, you felt like cumming. You actually felt like cumming. You felt like hiding your face and scream. It was already too much. It was already too much and you weren’t sure if you were thinking it or saying it out loud but Chris increased his pace, kitty licking your buds in ways that made you dig your nails into his shoulders. He didn’t even wince, he didn’t even care, teeth gently biting on the hard but tender skin and stretching it, before popping in as much as he could fit and suck until his dimples showed.
Oh, it was sinful, the movement, the sound, your noises, his heavy breath, his cock so fucking hard right underneath you. You wanted more. You needed more, the begging word lingering on the tip of your tongue.
“Shit,” you said instead, a high pitched and messy moan escaping your chest. Chris hummed deeply against your chest and his arms tightened around your body as you leaned forwards and felt your body spasm uncontrollably.
You heard his chuckle from a haze as you slowly calmed down your breath.
“Adding making woman cum just from nipple stimulation to my CV now,” he giggled, his pretty eyes right above your cleavage. You smiled, rolling your eyes. You couldn’t believe he was giggling after doing all that to you.
“Stupid. It’s just my body being sensitive, as you said.”
“And yet, that motherfucker didn’t make you cum even by accident,” his tone changed completely.
His jealousy gave you butterflies - you were kinda ashamed to admit - and all you could do was leaning down to give him a smiley kiss, and it somehow tasted sweet and gentle. His cock didn’t feel sweet though and when he slowly pushed his hips upwards his tip bumped into your sensitive clit making you jolt. Then again, and again, until you had to let his plumped lips go and breathe on them instead.
“Chris-”
“Yeah?” he murmured back.
You whined, foreheads pressing together.
___
Chris thought he was going to just cream his pants. He thought that was it, that was the moment. Because besides creaming one’s pants, he didn’t think what other appropriate reaction one could have seeing you slide down from his legs onto your knees on the floor and rest your hands on his thighs with that needy expression of yours.
“Oh, fuck,” he swallowed, one hand to messy his hair even more.
The corner of your lips lifted in a confident and amused smile. “You think I can add making man cum just from rubbing his thighs in my CV?”
“Oh, I fucking think so,” Chris replied with somewhat of a choked and amused voice. Your warm palms were doing just as you said, touching him on top of his thin shorts, until reaching underneath them for a moment and feelin his boiling skin. The print of his cock was so obvious that you wondered if it was painful so you leaned down and just touched alongside of it with your nose, making his muscles twitch, then with your open mouth, warming him through the fabric.
Chris let his head fall back for a moment, unable to keep his eyes open, then he looked back down, not wanting to lose a single movement of yours.
You looked up at him from underneath your lashes and you smiled, almost purring, letting your tongue wet his shorts ever so slightly.
“I know what you want,” he smiled with a heavy breath.
Your head tilted to the side in a silent oh really?
He hummed. “But I don’t have issues with begging. So, please,” he added in a whisper, “please please I need to feel your mouth on me.”
___
You felt a new wave of wetness pool inside your panties.
How could a man look so hot begging for it? He drove you crazy. You thought you were breaking him but he broke you instead.
He was pissing you off. He was pissing you off so badly.
“Shirt off,” you lifted yourself and he chuckled, obeying you. The way he reached back and took it off by the collar made your knees weak and they weren’t strong in the first place.
“Better?” he leaned back again.
You felt your head spin. You felt like about to choke on your breath or spit or just air. One couldn’t just look like that.
So all you could do was just to lean in, tasting that immaculate skin with your lips on his neck, feeling his collarbones, then open mouth on his chest, then finally you bit the tender but firm skin right above his waistband, close to the few veins disappearing into his underwear.
He exhaled deeply, then he inhaled sharply, and finally he whimpered, a single sound, sweet but husky. You wanted to hear more. You wanted to hear all of it. And when you felt satisfied with the mark you left on his pristine stomach, you grabbed his waistband and pulled.
“Lift your hips for me, princess,” you smiled and Chris let out an incredulous offended giggle.
Yet he did as you ordered, letting you take a moment to try and understand in which hole you could fit all of that.
___
“I’m sure you could make me cum only by looking at it, but I would appreciate a little help too,” Chris let his hands caress your jaw and then he slowly dug them into your hair.
You looked up at him then back down. “Shit,” you murmured, rubbing your thighs together.
The movement didn’t go unnoticed to him and it just made his cock jump. You looked gorgeous. He thought you looked like a wet dream but none of his wet dreams looked that good.
He exhaled with a groan as you finally let your tongue travel from the base up his tip, feeling the most prominent vein, until tasting the pre-cum. Then you grabbed it, lazily pumping as much as you could, tongue teasing his slit before swallowing half of it in one go and making him choke on air.
“That’s- this is-” he mumbled, eyes fluttering and hands imperceptibly shaking.
You hummed a question but just sucked not even letting him process anything else besides the feeling of your perfectly wet and warm mouth around him.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers pulling on your hair a bit the moment you started to bob your head even lower until almost touching the base with your nose. The gag sounds made him dizzy and he relaxed the grip as you let his cock out with a gasp, some saliva strings attached to the tip. You broke them with your tongue and started to eagerly sucking on his tip again, lungs trying to take in as much air as you could before diving in again.
Chris was a sinner but if that was what heaven felt like he thought he might start repenting soon.
“You’re so fucking good,” he murmured with a husky voice. He was losing it completely just like the life you were sucking out of him. “So so so fucking good,” he let his head fall back again as you hummed pleased around his cock, the short eye contact making him close his eyes, feeling the pleasure pooling too quickly inside of him. You gagged again, this time for longer and your jaw relaxed, taking him deep inside your throat again and again and again until he pulled away, his thighs shaking and his breath completely irregular.
You looked at him disappointed and a bit mad.
“-m cumming, are you sure-” Chris explained with a broken voice and you huffed, taking him back inside your mouth and making him groan as if he was almost in pain.
“Shit shit shit,” he repeated like a mantra, relasing so fast and so intensely that he almost missed the way your throat moved as you swallowed almost to the last drop, letting the last sprut land on your extended tongue instead and cheek.
Chris exhaled as if he just finished running a marathon and relaxed his muscles. His fingers collected the drops of cum from your face and you smiled, grabbing his wrist with your hands and directed it towards your face.
“God,” he gulped dryly, watching you suck on his fingers and coating them with your spit. The view was almost more erotic than the one he just witnesses and he wondered if he should add a third one inside your mouth to get them all ready for what he wanted to do next.
___
One moment you were between his thick thighs, and the other you were staring at the ceiling, your back flush on the couch.
You couldn’t make sense of when or how he grabbed you and pushed you into it, the only thing you could concentrate on being the feeling of his kisses on your stomach.
And not only. The way his neck chain felt rubbing on your skin with every inch he touched with his mouth. And when you felt it, cold, sliding between your legs, you inhaled deeply, hands trying to reach and grab anything to anchor you to reality. But Chris grabbed your wrists and pinned them down to your sides. Then he pulled your shorts and underwear down your legs with a harsh pull.
“No princess for me?” you joked, trying to fight the sudden feeling of being completely naked and very much open-legged in front of him.
Chris leaned down until almost lying on you and you welcomed his naked body between your thighs, feeling how deliciously he started to get hard again only by pleasuring you.
“Princess? But you want to be fucked like a whore, don’t you?” he teased your lower lip with his teeth and you whimpered at the sweet tone but dirty words.
“Yeah?” he asked again, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck, reaching for your ear and languidly tracing its shape with his tongue.
You exhaled, caressing his wide back, feeling his muscles flex as he came back towards your mouth.
“Words, princess,” his voice was husky and deep and you felt it in your chest going down to your core.
“Yes, yeah,” you breathed out. Chris smiled pleased and the glint in his eyes got darker as he disappeared from your sight and pulled you by the hips towards his mouth.
You felt like melting. You felt like melting and disappearing into his touch.
Yeah, no, it was even better than you’ve imagined. You thought you knew how his velvety tongue would feel like but no, you didn’t. You had no fucking idea, not a single clue. And in that momen you realized you were so glad for not having a third neighbour because the way Chris got you moaning and swearing was probably unbearable. He just flicked your clit, and sucked on it, then kitty licked, then let his tongue flat on you, going down to collect all drops. Again and again. It was so dirty, it was so wet and sinful, it made you unable to keep your eyes open. He fucked you with his tongue, sliding it in with a groan, and when you thought it couldn’t get any better you felt his finger making space for itself. You gasped and stared down, catching a glimpse of Chris’ almost black eyes under his fringe, and the white of his teeth, like about to devour his prey. He pumped his finger in and out, tongue back to torture you, and when he added the second one and curved them towards the sweetest spots, your spine curved as well, and you frantically grabbed at whatever you could reach. Chris kept you down with the other arm, snaking it around your thigh and pressing his palm on your lower stomach. The pressure made you choke, heighteing the pleasure until something broke inside of you and you lost control of your own body and mind, shaking so violently that you couldn’t see anymore. You felt yourself clenching around his fingers rhythmically after another gasp of air, and you realized he was shushing you, lazily kissing your thigh, and whispering quiet praises.
Then he came forwards, his bicep full and his forearm flexed keeping his body weight, the other hand still buried inside of you.
You reached up and wiped his chin and lower lip and he smiled, catching it with his mouth and slowly sucking on it.
The mewl that escaped your throat at the view made him chuckle so we wanted more, finally sliding his fingers out and shoving them inside your mouth.
The kiss that came afterwards was slow and deep, your tastes mixing together in it, his body resting on top of yours, caging you down with his weight.
___
Chris hasn’t felt that aroused in a very long time. Although your whole body was doing the conversation, your touch, your eyes, the way you’d pull him into the kiss, your legs around his waist, he really really wanted to hear you beg him for it, beg him for more, beg him to not stop.
You didn’t stop kissing him and he was grateful for your almost identical apartments because eyes closed and hands busy groping at your ass as he carried you in his arms he had to only rely on his instincts to find the bedroom and drop you on the bed. The view of you sprawled on it the way he has imagined many times in the intimacy of his dark room made him exhale with his mouth and when you lifted one foot, gently rubbing it on his abdomen he lifted one amused eyebrow, desperately wanting to bite on you. So he did just that, trying to suck on the tender skin on your hip to get you a matching spot to the one you gave him. Your gentle but amused whimpers made his cock throb almost painfully and he lied fully on his stomach, his thumb lazily pressing into your clit in circular motions. Your body kept jolting ever so slightly as he peppered kisses all over your abdomen, still sensitive, and your hands in his hair made his spine shiver deliciously.
He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to feel you.
Slowly and deeply, just like the kiss he gave you, caging you under his body.
He wanted to see your expression as he reached down and lined himself up to you. He wasn’t disappointed, the gasp you let out, feeling him slide inside of you mirroring his.
Chris needed to close his eyes for a moment, lips rubbing on yours, and his nostrils filled with your perfume.
And when he opened them, your blowned out pupils, your open wet lips, your eyebrows curved in a way that communicated lust and desire made him push himself in until a single choked sound escaped from your tender throat. He did it again, and again, slowly, making you feel every bit of him, stretching you out in ways that made you wrap your legs around his waist and squeeze with broken breath.
___
It was overwhelming. So much and so full. But you needed more. You wanted him deeper. You wanted him everywhere.
“Faster,” you whimpered, arms abandoned on the pillow you pushed your head into as he obeyed, snapping his hips into you. The louder moans filled the room and you extended your throat. Chris leaned down to bite on it, the sounds of his groans reverberating inside your chest. His hands reached yours, pulling them near the headboard and pinning them down, making you bite your lips at how you let yourself be fully to his mercy. He pushed his hand on your wrists more, the other sliding back down to your hips to keep you in place.
The bed started to creak and the sheets wrinkled underneath your bodies. A thin layer of sweat shone on his silky skin and you desperately wanted to feel him. You tugged at his hand but he smirked, pressing you down again.
A single disappointed mmh made space between your whimpers.
He clicked his tongue. “You want to touch me?”
The breathy yes visibly amused him too much.
“Ask nicely,” he whispered on your lips, his hips never stopping to turn your brain into a mush.
Your reply was a dry chuckle and he caught it with his mouth transforming it into a growl.
“I see you’re not fucked up enough,” he said in a second your wrists were free, but so was your body as he got up on his knees, sliding out of you.
Your whimper of protest at the sudden emptiness made him exhale satisfied.
“Come on,” you eyed him and his beautifully arrogant face.
“What?” he turned his head to the side in that little play. His cock was heavy resting on you as he slowly slid it on top of your clit, not enough to give you any relief but enough to keep you on that edge he desperately wanted you to be on.
You extended your arms, almost touching his chest, but he grabbed your wrists again keeping them together as he kept playing with you.
“Say it,” he purred. Your hips twitched at that delicious torture. “Say what you want.”
“I want you inside of me,” you opened your eyes. “I want you to make me cum,” you tried. Maybe you’d break him. Maybe you’d make him lose control.
But he just smirked. “Yeah?”
You hummed back, your fingers shaking in the air.
“What else?”
Your bit your lower lip. “Fuck, Chris-” you skin shivered.
“Just say it, come on, and I’ll fuck you the way you want me to,” his tip teased your sensitive clit deliciously as a little taste of what he would be able to do to you.
“Say it, baby,” he added and the petname threw you off completely, making you grit your teeth.
“Please,” you voice was faint.
Chris’ cock twitched and his grip on your wrist tightened.
“Louder,” he ordered and you whined as a reply.
“Please,” you repeated. “Please please plea-”
Your words got choked as he slammed into you, so deeply to cut your airflow completely. And when he slid out and thrust into you again you tried to breathe but it felt impossible. Your pants got louder and louder matching the intensity of the skin slapping and wet sounds. Chris pulled you even closer by your hips, reaching your throat and resting his warm palm on it to keep you in place.
“You have no idea how gorgeous you look right now,” he murmured.
“I want- to see,” you admitted and Chris stopped, just the insinuated offer making him close to finish.
He grunted and slipped out, grabbing your sides and turning you on your stomach with a single movement. You exhaled at his manhandling and when he grabbed your arms, pulling you up on your knees to face the mirror on the right, he felt your body shiver at the view, your eyes drinking in your own body then his figure right behind it.
"You want to know how you look in my arms?” he whispered in your ear, snaking his hands on your body. “You want this pretty hole stretched and filled with cum?”
Your back curved and he could see in the mirror the way your eyes almost rolled back when he slid back inside of you.
“Yes,” you whimpered back.
“That’s why you’ve been so loud, weren’t you?” He thrusted slowly and deeply.
“Yes,” you added, with a choked sound.
The realization made Chris completely dizzy. “You knew I’ve been listening?”
“I was hoping you were.”
“And what were you thinking of while burying your toys inside your cunt?”
You rolled your eyes back, his movement inside of you making it hard to speak. “About this,” you whined, one palm tentatively reaching back to touch his abdomen but you had no more force.
You fell forwards on your hands, letting him grab your waist and fuck into you faster. Between your lashes you could see his body, tall on his knees, and his gritted teeth behind those gorgeous full lips. It was too much. His touch, his strokes, his scent all around you, his voice - deep and breathy - made you dig your nails into the sheets, twirling them as hard as he thrusted inside of you.
“-m close, Chris, I am-” you tried to speak, voice muffled by the sheets you were burying your face into.
The man leaned down to grab your chin and lift your head up. You exhaled, staring at your teary eyes and fucked up gaze. “Cum for me,” he grunted in your ear and you didn’t see anymore.
Your body seized up and the sounds got drowned as you screamed. Chris’ hands trembled in your peripheral vision and the feeling of his cum filling up your pulsating cunt made you moan again dragging it until you could hear again. His breath was heavy and his voice hoarse as he whispered your name laced with swears.
Your lifted your gaze in the mirror, drinking in the way he licked his lips, eyes trained on your ass as he slid his cock out. He looked at you under his eyelashed and grinned, his palm bouncing on one cheek as he gave it a good spank.
You inhaled then gasped as he knocked your thighs together and slid back in slowly.
“Chris, I’m too sensitive-” you choked and he exhaled.
“Me too,” he grunted. “You can give me another one, right, baby?”
His voice made your skin shiver with goosebumps as he leaned down to pepper wet kisses on your cheek and jaw. “Or I can just stop,” he added, stilling his hips.
You whined. “Don’t stop-please-”
Chris hummed and moved slowly, fucking his cum back in. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”
You let your face back down and moaned, jolts of electricity running down your veins at the overstimulation.
“Look at me,” he ordered. “If you stop looking at me I’ll stop.”
His name excaped your throat like a sob. You didn’t want him to stop but you had no force to keep your head up.
Chris’s glistening body leaned down again as much as to reach our head. His fingers were delicate but firm when he grabbed your hair and pulled up, his hips picking up the pace.
You moaned, keeping your neck extended in his hold, the swears coming out of your mouth matching his. The heat in your abdomen felt like an explosion about to happen and when he felt your walls clench he grabbed your elbows again, pulling you up on your knees to wrap his arms all around you. His face nuzzled in the crook of your neck and his hands kept groping at everything until his knuckles would get white. They rested on your breasts, the other to hold your waist, and you grabbed his veiny forearms, open mouth in an initial silent scream.
“That’s right, that’s it, cum baby-” he grunted, his voice caressing your shivering skin.
Your body spasmed and if it weren’t for his hold you would have heavily fallen on the bed. Chris stilled for one moment, groaning as you clenched on him, but then he thrusted again, fucking you through your orgasm until you heard the choke on his breath against your ear, releasing into your for the second time.
You didn’t know for how long you remained both still, catching your shaky breaths, gazes talking to each other because you had no more words. But the moment he pulled out you watched, his cum sliding down your thigh and pooling on the sheets underneath you.
___
Chris’ chest felt the perfect amount of hard and soft. You nuzzled into it even more and your hair tickled him. He giggled, wrapping your body even tighter.
“I’ll get you new sheets,” he murmured.
“I can get the stain out,” you murmured back. Your eyelids felt heavy after his sweet praises and the delicate touch of his hands cleaning you with a soft warm towel. You didn’t even realize how thirsty you were until he brought a glass of water and he laughed watching you down it. Then he got you another one. Then he gave you a kiss. And another one. And he giggled again when you pulled him down on top of you, making out slowly like you had all the time in the world.
And being like that in his arms you did feel like you had all the time in the world.
“I’ll just get you new sheets,” he argued.
“If you need to get me sheets everytime you fuck me you’ll go bankrupt.”
Chris remained silent so you lifted your head to look at him in the face. He was grinning.
“Is that-” he started.
You rolled your eyes. “Yes, it’s an invitation to do this again.”
Chris cupped your face with his palm. “I love how you look when you’re embarrassed.”
You chuckled dryly. “I am not embarrassed!”
Chris nodded. “Hm-mh.”
You puffed and sat up, then turned on the other side. Chris only giggled and wrapped your body again, pulling your back towards his chest. The little smile you had on your face was visible to him in the mirror in front of you and he kissed your neck once before falling asleep with you.
___
In the morning you both used a single washing machine.
“Busy and enjoyable night, neighbour?” he leaned on the door suddenly as you finished loading it. The kisses he kept giving you in the elevator made your breath heavy.
You rolled your eyes amused at his little theatrical act. “Yes.”
He hummed getting closer and you clicked the Power button.
Chris grabbed your hips loosely and pushed you towards it until your ass hit the low vibrating machine.
“He made me cum many times,” you whispered against his lips. They were curved in a smile. His eyebrows shot up as if surprised.
“Oh, really?”
“Hm-hm,” you replied then gasped as he suddenly grabbed you and lifted you on the washing machine. His body naturally slid between your thighs and the way his fingertips trailed on them made you almost mewl.
“Chris-” you tried to stop him as his mouth fell on your tender neck.
“Yeah?”
“Not here,” you murmured.
The washing machine started to rumble underneath you and you exhaled.
His eyes shone with mischief. “Why, you’re afraid some neighbour is going to hear you? Shouldn’t that turn you on?”
“I only wanted you to hear me.”
“Well, if I gag you no one will hear a thing,” he whispered.
You gulped and your thighs impercetibly tightened around his waist. The vibrations of the washing machine kept sending jolts of pleasure up your bust.
“What if someone comes in suddenly?”
“We’ll be quick,” he peppered kissed on your neck. “But I can also stop.”
His gaze was dark and twinkly with lust. Your eyelids were getting heavy.
“No, don’t stop. Please,” you whispered. “Please.”
#bangchan smut#stray kids smut#bangchan fanfiction#stray kids fanfiction#bangchan stray kids smut#neighbours au
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello lovely!! I love your concept of „how the bllk men fuck“
Any thoughts on how Niko, Ness and Otoya would fuck ?
*happy noises* tysm!!
Ikki Niko fucks you with a dirty trick up his sleeve. He'll start off all "y-yeah, feels amazing~", with passionate thrusts and lovely long kisses, keeping your legs up or offering to do all the work if you get tired. Then, around 5-6 minutes in? The guy's revelling in your cute little face of surprise. He's holding you in a position that you had no idea existed, let alone been in before. And when it feels good, it feels good. "Hnnngh, can you keep this position? Yeah? Too much? Too bad, huh..." he'll be panting, clawing at your body whilst you cry out his name as he's forcing your form to take him in his favoured position.
Niko likes to make a scene when it's time for you both to cum, because it's like screaming to the world: 'I did that! I made her cum with my hidden technique!'. He'll groan louder than necessary and keeps thrusting into your sore, cum-coated pussy, nice and smoothly while you're reaching out to his chest in a futile attempt to slow him down. "Oh— Ohhhhh... ssshhhhhit!"
Alexis Ness fucks you with complete trust. He's borderline addicted to your body, he knows it never lies. You'll be trying to hide the way your face contorts with ecstasy, hearing him breathe out an amused giggle even when he's balls fucking deep, "N'awh, dont be silly. You think you can hide how great you feel?". His fingers are so cruel to you, pinching and pulling at your nipples or slapping your ass to feel you clench just because he wants to be the one to bring out your true reactions. Just because he wants to let you know that 'I'm yours, I'll always be yours and you'll never find anyone that can keep you more truthful than me!'.
"I knowww," he'll pout to imitate you, "trust me, I know baby." You'll sometimes have the heart to argue back to him as he's above you, smiling and moaning breathily, claiming that he's way too confident. "I don't buy it, princess... n-nngh! All I have to do is ask your body, s-see?" Ness will grin, bright eyed and alert of your body language before lightly sliding his hand back and forth over your clit so you literally squirt on his command. He'll be able to see from a mile away that you're about to cum, so just let go won't you?
Eita Otoya fucks you with...
Oops... hasn't he told you yet? He fucks you with unreliability. Otoya will keep you on your toes, downright wary of him during sex. You'll never know when he's about to switch positions, change pace or— "F-Fuck, sorry babe..." bottom out... He'll never warn you, part of you thinks he forgets? But part of you thinks he does it on purpose due to those laidback, shitty excuses for apologies that make you think he's a scumbag. "You're so tight, you're so good~" he'll repeat from behind you, slamming into your sopping wet cunt one second and softly thrusting whilst caressing your hips the next. Unpredictable isn't even the word... He just seems to refuse letting you become accustomed to his cock, as if he's making sure you don't get too attached to him. Now if you actually knew the real reason why he'd be doing that... nah, you'd probably still beg for his cock even if he did think a relationship with you would be tiresome. He's too good.
Otoya doesn't even tell you when he's about to cum... thank god for birth control. You'll be screaming his name into your pillow as the headboard is making the wall crack, then suddenly: "tch! Ah~ yeahhh..." as his dick fills you with his loving, he calls it.
|| || || ||
#blue lock#blue lock smut#bllk smut#blue lock x reader#bllk otoya#blue lock otoya#alexis ness#ness bllk#niko ikki#niko bllk#bllk
986 notes
·
View notes
Text
modern mizu hcs
solely based on my au and my concept of her !! I love my loser babygirl so much
she's REALLY tall. like 6'1 or something. this is sorta canon but I just would like to reinforce it because she is 80% leg and I love her for it.
her love language would be acts of service but she is VERY big on physical touch, bby is touchstarved af
she's a bassist but she also enjoys singing. she doesn't do it often but boy is she good.
adding to the above I also think she does really good at roars eg that one part from blessed be by spiritbox
REALLY likes the snapcube sonic dubs and quotes them regularly
swordfather has many pictures of 12-16 year old mizu in her emo phase and shows them off to anyone who visits home
she really likes tea but absolutely hates coffee.
she absolutely despises buying from big chain companies because she hates the rich and privileged white men who control society
cooks really well but almost never eats
when she does eat, she EATS. she'll go hungry for three days and then eat an entire fridge worth of food in two hours
she has to take supplements for everything imaginable and whoever's cooking has to sneak them into her meal like dogs with pills in peanut butter
she hates dogs. I feel like the only dogs she'd like would be malamutes, huskies, or german shepherds cause girl me too
really loves fish though. she spends all her time at the closest aquarium and everybody there knows her by name
owns SO many button up shirts. yk those multicoloured ones yeah she wears those, hawaiian shirts too
collects vinyls and cassette tapes and owns a walkman
drives a 1979 baby blue impala given to her by swordfather for her 18th birthday
she did the paintjob herself and is very proud
goes on really elaborate rants about sonic lore
collects sonic merch but especially likes merch of shadow, rouge and blaze because they're her favourites
has eyebrow piercings on both brows and snake bites
to add to the above she takes great care with her eyebrows, she shapes them regularly
she does not, however, have any other routine to do with her appearance. she washes her face and calls it a day
when she was about 16 she watched princess mononoke for the first time and has been an AVID studio ghibli fan since
writes poetry every so often, especially when she has feelings for somebody. her poems either sound like fall out boy lyrics or something written by a philosopher (same thing icl)
smells like expensive cologne and smoke from working with vehicles and shit
curses like a sailor. not a minute goes by where she isn't effing and jeffing all over the place
doesn't smoke except when she's REALLY drunk
absolutely hates parties. taigen being a frat boy she gets dragged to tons, in which she drinks herself into a coma and wakes up on akemi's couch the next day surprisingly not hungover
despite being quiet af she has a reputation on campus for being absolutely amazing at arguing with people who've either pissed her off or heard her yelling at taigen (a common occurrence)
got excluded from high school for a week as a sophomore because she tripped taigen down the stairwell and it ended in 5 kids being hurt not including taigen
#blue eye samurai#mizu blue eye samurai#bes#bes mizu#modern au#headcanons go brrrrr#loser mizu my beloved#mizu come home the kids miss you#modern mizu has my heart
190 notes
·
View notes
Text
Astro observations #25
• Some Aquarius mars people tend to not want to have kids if they think the society they live in is corrupt.
• Capricorn/Scorpio mix in the chart can indicate being born left handed! I have a close friend who’s a Capricorn sun & Scorpio stellium and she’s left handed, my mom’s a Scorpio sun/mercury & Capricorn venus and she’s also left handed. Then I’m a 8H Capricorn mars & I was born left handed!
• Capricorn mars with a water sun are dangerous!! I know a few men with these placements that will say “I would never hurt you baby, you know that.” In a sweet tone and then be cheating.
• You might not be specifically attracted to people who have their natal ascendant opposite your sidereal ascendant and there can be a little tension/awkwardness because of that. E.g. If you’re a sidereal Taurus rising you might not be that attracted to tropical Scorpio risings but they might find your personality/looks attractive & tend to develop crushes on you even if they don’t tell you.
• You know those celebrities that you don’t know much about because they didn’t share their personal life much or they had biopics made after their passing to share their story? They probably have Water in their big 3! E.g. Freddie Prinze Sr (Cancer sun/Pisces moon/Scorpio rising), Prince (Pisces moon/Scorpio rising), Bobby DeBarge (Pisces sun), etc…
• Water suns tend to have fuller cheeks & rounder faces!
• Water in big 3 also tend to have dimples!
• Gemini placements be out here lying for fun lmao.😭
• I think Water moons can also relate to Air moons and some can also be wise because they tend to have their sidereal moon in an air moon. E.g. Pisces moon can relate to Aquarius moon, Cancer moon can relate to Gemini moon & Scorpio moon can relate to Libra moon.
• I’ve also noticed Water moons tend to enter depressions at times..
• I know some Pisces moons who feel like people don’t get them and so they get sorta depressed.
• Leo sun/mercury/venus people are so cool imo.
• They also have great taste in music and are intelligible.
• Cancer suns with Gemini moons and Leo mercuries are really funny, mentally stimulating and caring all in one.
• Air moons are normally collected people but they can spontaneously lash out too.
• Yes fire risings are outgoing, fiery and loud but can we also normalize them being introverted? I know some fire risings especially Sagittarius risings to be introverted and on the other hand I know some water risings especially Scorpio risings who are bold to a certain degree and also outgoing.
• Checking the degree of your sidereal ascendant is also essential! E.g. my sidereal rising is at a Leo degree, Leo is in my 3rd natal house and it shows through in the way I express myself! Like when I dance/sing I’m somewhat confident & sassy lol.
• Virgo moons with Aries influence in the chart will start firing shots/getting a aggressive if you don’t listen to them.
• 9H moons 🤝 being unconsciously self-righteous.
• People with venusian Jupiters (Libra/Taurus) tend to get baby fever a lot!
• People with their mercury in a fire house (1, 5, 9) tend to curse a lot, maybe unconsciously so, it doesn’t matter if they have a water mercury either.
• Scorpio moons will be willing to go to the ends of the earth for you if they love you. Don’t take them for grated though.
• Some people with Earth mars have a ‘mami’/‘daddy’ kink. Yes, I’m looking at you specifically Capricorn mars.🌚
#astro community#astroblr#astro posts#astro placements#astrology#astro blog#rendezvous-fling#astro observations#aquarius mars#capricorn placements#scorpio placements#pisces placements#cancer placements#capricorn mars#ascendant#gemini placements#water moon#pisces moon#leo placements#air moons#water rising#fire rising#virgo moon#virgo mars#taurus mars#libra jupiter#Taurus jupiter
764 notes
·
View notes
Text
Welcome to the HOT AND VINTAGE MOVIE STARS tournament! We are now finished with the Hot & Vintage Men Tournament; The Hot & Vintage Movie Women Tournament is ongoing. Submissions for hot vintage women are now closed, but we are accepting propaganda for those already in the bracket.
Round 1 of the Hot & Vintage Women Tournament began with 540 hot women in prelims. Round 1 starts Saturday, March 2nd, with posts going up over several days. All polls—including ongoing polls, previous rounds, old tournaments, the various shadow brackets, and fun mini polls—can be found in the #hotvintagepoll tag. Every poll in the Hot & Vintage Women Tournament will be tagged with the hot woman in it if you need to search for a hot woman in particular.
FAQs:
“Where is [my favorite hot woman]?” It depends. Are all the Round 1 polls up yet? Have you checked all the polls in the tag? Have you done a tag search for her? If you still haven’t found her, either nobody submitted her or she did not fit the criteria of being a movie woman from 1910-1970.
“Can I still submit hot women?” No, the submission window has closed. Please do not send in women you wish had made it into the bracket. I can’t do anything with those asks and they just make me sad.
“I have additional propaganda for the hot women!” Great! Send me an ask or reblog the poll and add your propaganda to it. If you see a separate post that relates to your hot woman, like a fancam or a gifset, you can tag me in it. I don’t boost all the propaganda I see or receive, but I try to boost the best of the best.
If you’re submitting propaganda for your hot lady, I don’t accept propaganda that’s from beyond the end of this tournament’s era (ie don’t send me pics of them from before 1910 or after 1970). I also don’t accept propaganda of TV appearances unless it’s clearly a cameo where they’re playing themselves. If you have a TON of photos to submit, please send a few asks instead of one long one. I watch every video I receive so I can add trigger warnings, so please don't send long videos—I don't have time to review them.
I don’t post or boost negative propaganda about any hot woman. If you really hate that a certain hot woman is winning, send me positive propaganda for their hot opponent. If you think a hot woman shouldn’t even be included in the tournaments because of scummy things she did in her lifetime, please read my take on it here.
If I see repetitive, trolling, and/or bigoted remarks in the comments, I may block you from this bracket. If you want to point out a hot woman’s flaws or misdemeanors, that’s fine, but if I see consistent bad-faith trolling, you will be blocked.
The views expressed in the propaganda are not my own. I don’t submit my own propaganda, and I don’t change what’s submitted beyond fixing spelling mistakes. If you hate a poll bio or a pic, let me know and send me something I can use instead. Thoughtless bitching will get blocked.
"Where are the hot men?" Most of them are in the shadow realm! Toshiro Mifune was crowned the winner of the Hot & Vintage Men Tournament, and the rest were banished where the sun never shines. You can find all the round 1 matchups here (thank you @markwatnae!), or you can search the archive by tag to find out more about what happened to all the different hot men.
"Why didn't my propaganda make it into the poll post?" Either I couldn't open the link, or there was so much submitted I could only pick a few. Because this tournament is so much bigger than the Hot & Vintage Men one, I'm limiting propaganda to 5 pics per hot lady for Round 1. I know, a bummer! I have to do it this way to keep myself sane. If you have a photo you really want the world to see, follow the propaganda guidelines above.
“My FAQ isn’t on here :(” send me an ask! I love hearing from you guys—just please check these basics first.
Thank you for being here! Enjoy the tournament.
156 notes
·
View notes
Note
Helloo!! I've came across ur fics a few times and it never fail to makes me smile, and I have an idea from scrolling on tiktok for a whole week, I'm not sure if ur reqs are still open... But may I request the orange peel theory with jjk men n boys? Your pick on who u want to write in that scenario! If ur req is close pls ignore this! Thank you and I hope you have an amazing day!
the things i do for you ! ⋆ jjk men
the orange peel theory ˖ gojo, geto, toji, nanami.
an. honestly i'm still kind of ??? on what exactly is the orange peel theory but i'm assuming it's just acts of service? im so sorry if its wrong LOL pls i don't keep up with tiktok......
an ii. ok i did end up getting the prompt wrong but i hope yall like this anyway..
cw. sfw. f!reader. not proofread. acts of service.
playing. lovesong by beabadoobee.
GOJO SATORU is a familiar face at the local coffee shop down the block — and no, it's not because he keeps raiding their cheesecake displays. he much prefers the ones across the street; he only comes by this particular one to pick up your favourite coffee.
"toru, could you get something for me at the coffee place?"
"yeah, i can," he hums. "what do you need, baby?"
it's actually only a 5 minute walk, and you never told satoru your order. it was too specific that you were sure he would forget; so you just told him to buy an iced latte and be quick with it. after all, you could never go wrong with such a basic drink.
"'s okay, baby," he presses a quick kiss to your cheek, confident he would not come back home with a boring latte. "i'll get you something even better."
"please don't. your taste in coffee is terrible — no, forget it, i can just go by myself later." you groan, wriggling around in the sheets of your bed to find that warm spot in the blankets; satoru was up since 6am, and you've only just opened your eyes.
"oh, no need for that," your boyfriend smirks: almost too creepily. "i have great taste! both in coffee and women—"
you smack his arm, using your hands to gesture a shoo-ing motion. you weren't conscious enough to tolerate satoru's gross flirtations. his eyebrows furrow and lips pout, quickly planting another kiss on your forehead before standing up. he scrambles through the desk drawer for his sunglasses — eventually finding them and leaving the house.
little did you know that your boyfriend has your order memorised — it was a small order, not that difficult to remember. satoru didn't think it was necessary to make you get up and grab it yourself; he had legs, and he liked the fresh air, too. plus, he knows he'll get to see you smile first thing when you wake up; perhaps you might give him one of those kisses on the forehead that he loves so much.
you thought he would have called you lazy for not getting up — he would be offended you think so little of him if you admitted that. satoru sees your sleepy face, hears your peaceful snores and he thinks he would rather die by impalement than wake you.
when satoru returns, you're still tucked into bed and fast asleep. he leaves the coffee on the nightstand before kneeling down and leaving the third kiss of the day, right on your lips — and it's then that he realises that you have him so in love that he's willing to spend $8.95 every morning for the rest of his life on overpriced coffee.
────────────────────────
GETO SUGURU holds the most romantic date nights, but there's only one thing you don't particularly enjoy — that being there's always so much walking involved.
yes, you think the opportunity to just take a breath and link pinkies with suguru is nice; it's just that your shoes tend to undo themselves no matter how many bunny ears you tie. your laces have been through war — the plastic aglets have been long lost and the loose string is practically just that. they're starting to pull apart from eachother that you consider just wearing heels for the next few dates until you find better ones.
"we just need to turn the corner—"
suguru's words are cut off by your sighs. you look down at your shoelaces and they are once again untied; the pout on your lips make his curve upward, after he lets out a sigh of his own.
"i really need to get you new shoes," suguru mutters. "they've definitely been through it."
"can you tie them for me?"
it's a simple request that gets suguru on one knee, dress pants stained by the concrete dust, as you patiently wait for him to finish tying the knots he's so skilled at.
"the ones you tie never come out."
"that's a lie," suguru says, his voice a little muffled with the distance between your heads. his rough fingers miss the loop and he opts to restart the knot. "i tied them before we left the house, and look at them now."
your face flushes at that. he sees through your lie like glass — you were always so easy to read.
"i just like the way you tie them, sugu. plus, they only untied because i redid them myself."
"yeah, i think it's because i don't tie them like a preschooler," suguru teases — he ties the knot tightly and stands up. "you should learn how to tie them the right way, baby."
you shake your head, and he raises an eyebrow at your reaction. his left pinky reaches for yours again, before you two start to walk once more.
"why do i need to learn if i have you?"
there's silence for a bit, nothing but cars honking and chattering from the people enjoying the nightlife just as you were — you almost retract your statement when suguru looks at you expectantly.
"is that so?" suguru chuckles at your response. "i guess you're right."
you giggle at his seemingly sarcastic reply — but you don't see the way he smiles, the way the tips of his ears burn, nor do you hear the loud thumping of his heart that tell he is being serious.
────────────────────────
TOJI FUSHIGURO doesn't know what small is.
well, everything about him is big — his body, his mind, his bank account, his heart.
it took you awhile to figure that last one out, though. toji always does the big things. the extravagant, flaunting, costly things. it's only small to him, and it often takes you a lot of convincing to get him to not spend hefty amounts of cash on you.
he feels it's necessary, to take care of his sweet girl like any man should — toji knows nobody can pamper you as well as he does, so he makes sure his money is spent wisely in making you feel safe and content.
you don't know how to tell him that there's no need for all of it, that you just want him to be with you — it's only until one day when you're coughing and sneezing in bed that you have to, after toji's constant pestering about hiring a family doctor.
"tch, baby," toji's voice echoes throughout the spacious bedroom. "shit—you're burning up."
"i'm fine," your voice is hoarse, nose crinkling at the incoming sneeze. "achoo!—"
he frowns, and the scar on his lip shifts downward. he sits on the edge of the bed, thick fingers moving stray hairs away from your face. "told ya we shouldn't have gone last night."
you shake your head. "it was your friend's birthday."
"does it matter, [name]?" he sounds stern. he only ever acts strict with you when he's really worried. "y'were already falling sick yesterday."
you reach for the box of tissues, fingers trying to reach inside the packaging for another piece, but you seem to have used all of them up — the 3rd time today.
"can you stay home, toji?"
it's one simple request that has him nodding. if you didn't mention it, he thinks he would've forgotten all about work — toji was much too worried to let you stay home alone, while a random doctor he hires on the day of attends to you. he much rather take care of you himself.
"i think i'll fuckin' have to," toji answers, frown plastered on his face out of pure worry; he has no idea how happy his reply makes you — you were more than comfortable with the idea of him taking care of you. "'m too worried to let you be alone."
"thank you, toji," you smile up at him and he feels his face burn up, so much that he thinks he feels hotter than you; "you always take such good care of me."
he always does. there was no doubt about it.
it's then that toji fushiguro stands up, his feet quick in making it's way to the bathroom to prepare a cold towel to plaster on top of your forehead. his actions are quick, wanting to make you feel better as soon as possible; your pale lips and tired eyes worried him more than he'd like to admit.
he ends up cooking the worst chicken noodle soup ever, but you chug it down with a grateful smile and a kiss to toji's cheek.
"fuck," he mumbles, sounding almost annoyed. "think i'm gonna get a fever now, too."
the smirk on his face tells you everything, though — at least now he knows money can't buy this.
────────────────────────
NANAMI KENTO is the type of man to do as you please, whenever you please, even if it's something you didn't even ask for.
he loves to see the smile on your face, the way your eyes sparkle when he agrees to help you with something just because you want him to — he can never get sick of the way your voice thanks him.
this is especially true in times of emergency.
it's a friday night and you're having dinner with nanami, legs crossed underneath the marbled tabletop — your silk emerald green dress flows perfectly, hugs your body just right; you think you did a good job picking it out today.
nanami had a range of activities planned out for tonight. it was your anniversary — dinner, then a film festival, then whatever surprise he kept a secret after.
you didn't try to snoop this time, genuinely thrilled to have such a special night with your lover; you were always one to love surprises, especially the ones from nanami.
beautiful, slow tempo jazz plays in the italian restaurant — you feel like you're from a different time, enjoying such authentic food.
"ken," you smile. "you should try some of this."
he doesn't respond for a bit. he's been looking at you with dreamy eyes, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lip; it's not until you giggle that he snaps out of whatever state he was just in.
"sorry, darling," nanami clears his throat. "you just look absolutely breathtaking tonight."
you physically feel the blood rush to your cheeks, too fast that it's almost embarrassing: kento truly knew how to fluster you.
you spin the fork in your hand clockwise, picking up a ball of pasta. "do i not look breathtaking every night?"
nanami chuckles, fingers controlling the knife sawing away at the steak that sits ready on his plate. "stop teasing. you know i think you're beautiful every second—"
plop.
your eyes widen, feeling a damp spot on your thigh. your fork suddenly feels lighter, and your eyes dart down to your dress that now has a patch of spaghetti sauce.
your eyes forcefully close shut in embarrassment, fingers rubbing your temples as you sigh.
"shit," you curse under your breath. "i'm sorry, kento."
he smiles, shaking his head. "what are you apologising for? you didn't drop it on purpose."
nanami sees the frown that drags your smile away, and he feels his heart sink. he knows you really loved that dress — and so he asks you to just enjoy your meal and that he'll make something work.
it's then that his plan derails, just a little. you two are running late to the film festival, but he couldn't think of any better solution.
"wait a little, okay?"
nanami parks the car, and his feet quickly lead him out and into the mall for a little over 10 minutes — when he returns, it's with a black bag with gold printed letters.
oddly familiar, you think.
he steps into the driver's seat, shuts the door and opens the bag: it's the same dress you're wearing, just in a different colour — blue.
nevertheless, you can't help the smile that creeps up on your face. "ken.. you really didn't—"
"yes, i had to." he interrupts. "i know it's not green, but i hope it's okay."
"thank you, love." you say, voice too sweet that nanami remembers all the reasons he does these things for you — he thinks he'll never get tired of it.
020224 — happpyy february ! also i think nanami's one is a little ermm but we rock we roll life moves on yolo :( i got lazy towards the end but i tried Okay
#tojivu ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk imagines#jjk headcanons#jjk imagine#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff#gojo fluff#gojo x reader#gojo imagines#gojo headcanons#geto fluff#geto x reader#geto imagines#geto headcanons#toji x reader#toji fluff#toji imagines#toji headcanons#nanami x reader#nanami fluff#nanami imagines#nanami headcanons#nanami kento x reader#gojo satoru x reader#geto suguru x reader#toji fushiguro x reader
364 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
meat-huge-pain-endless
but i will never end up like him
zaner210
210 Underground
a-na-dhil
what do you want me to do with my lips?
mondo-artist-blog
MONDO-artist
r0tting-f4e
Moved to @vie-0nl1n3