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fushipurro · 2 months

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the gentleness that comes (not from the absence of violence)

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☆ Synopsis: The Infamous "Invisible Man" is finally caught and detained by the FBI. In recognition of his skills, he's offered the chance of a reduced sentence if agrees to assist with a recent string of murders. He accepts, but under one condition.

His partner has to be you, his arresting officer.

☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, f!reader, fluff/smut/angst, no curse AU, mentions of blood/alcohol, graphic violence/murder, guns, porn with plot, hurt/comfort, dubious morality, creampie, fingering, oral (f.receiving), biting/scratching.

☆ Word Count: 17.2k

Toji Zenin.

A ruthless assassin that’s managed to keep himself under the radar longer than you’ve been in the force ─ which hasn’t been all that long, but plenty of time to earn name for himself.

He’s the type of killer that you hear about from ghost stories, a mystery so thought provoking that you find no shortage of true crime podcasts about it online. The Zodiac Killer’s got nothing on this guy.

After growing up with TV shows such as Bones or Law & Order SVU, you jumped at the chance to study criminal psychology in college. This led to you graduating with high marks and officially joining the ranks of the FBI, eager to become your own form of Temperance Brennan or Olivia Benson.

You never for a second thought that of anyone else in the force, you would arrest the one and only assassin. The myth, the legend, Toji himself.

At the time his name was unknown, and even now there’s only a shred of paperwork that proves he even exists. As far as the underworld goes, he’s earned the title of “Invisible Man” through his actions alone. Toji’s never once left a shred of evidence that could lead back to him, despite being the cause of many brutal unsolved cases piling up to this day in the archives.

He’s a hired killer, that much was already certain. Many of crimes linked to the assassin all can be traced back to hits listed on various forums and sites on the dark web. Your fellow agents could never get a read on where the payments went from there beyond layers of encryption, and thus, the trail ends short of any possible suspects.

Really, it was a miracle you managed to catch the man himself behind all the heinous acts. How do you find someone when you don’t even know what they look like; someone who leaves behind zero evidence? Not one hair sample, fingerprint, blood droplet, bullet, casing, nothing. You decided to do what any sane person could do to draw out this enigma of a killer.

You ordered a hit on yourself.

A fake version of yourself of course to hide the fact that you’re working for the government, but the pretty face in the photos is all you.

Quite the gamble, but it paid off when not even a few days after, he made his move on you. It started small with “accidental” meetings in public areas like at a grocery store or a sketchy bar one night where he offered you a drink and a good time. These little moments all led up to when Toji finally decided to corner you, but your team on standby were more than ready to apprehend him.

It worked surprisingly easier than you ever thought possible, but you chalk it up to him just being rusty. How else could you manage such an impossible feat?

All the cold cases tied to him had stopped for a period of five years before picking back up again a few short months ago. This time around, your team contemplated whether this was a copycat killer or if the real deal came back from the dead.

Nowadays, the killings appeared more spur of the moment rather than sophisticated and with careful planning. He still did his part in staying invisible as perfect as always, but the motives for each victim bounced between money to “someone looked at him funny” at best. Therein lies the problem you face.

No evidence? No conviction.

It’s one of those situations where everyone knows that the suspect is guilty, beyond a reasonable doubt, but at the end of the day, it’s conjecture without proper evidence like DNA or a confession.

Toji is a hell of a lot smarter than he looks and he knows it. You’re willing to bet if you got a peek at his brain, it’d be just as muscular and veiny as the rest of him. It makes him all the more terrifying to deal with if you’re not careful enough.

After his detainment, you thought that might be the end of it. Even if he can’t be tried on the counts of a dozen killings, there’s still the fact he was arrested on the charge of attempted murder in the first degree with you as the target.

You’re confident the jurors will find him guilty on that charge and spend the next 20 something years in prison if all goes well. Early release on good behavior seems far from likely for someone so dangerous with a capital D. All you can hope is that the justice system pulls through when it matters, and you won’t have to worry about him ever again.

…Right?

You got a sweet little promotion topped with a raise following the arrest, and most exciting now are all the new cases you’re in charge of, including the recent serial murders performed by the newly notorious Cupid Killer.

When you arrive at the bureau, you’re more than eager to start working until your boss calls you into his office upon arrival. You take a seat in front of his desk, not at all ready for the words you’re about to hear.

“The higher ups and Toji’s hotshot lawyer, Higuruma, have settled a deal. We’ll have him on our side assisting with the case.” His brows furrow with annoyance, but the psychologist in you can tell he’s conflicted. “I’m assigning you to supervise him out in the field. You caught him once, now you get to hold his leash.”

“Sir, with all due respect, you can’t possibly be serious,” you drawl, looking at the man behind the desk completely dumbfounded that such a thing could even happen. “We finally caught him so why risk him running off?”

He sighs, “I’m aware of the trouble this presents, but this is a good chance for us to kill two birds with one stone.” He reaches his hand out to the landline on the table, pressing one of the buttons. “Send him in.”

Your stomach immediately drops into what feels like a bottomless abyss. He’s serious. This isn’t some nightmare either, you know full well you’re awake and pinching yourself a thousand times doesn’t change anything.

“Y/N, I want you to learn all you can from his fucked-up brain. This is the perfect opportunity for someone of your talents to pick him apart so future criminals won’t even stand a chance.”

“But sir, out in the field? Why not keep him in an interrog-“

You’re cut off by the office doors bursting open, followed by the sound of heavy handcuffs. You turn in your seat to see the six foot however many inch wall of pure muscle walk into the room like a Greek God descending from the steps to Olympus.

May as well refer to your boss as Apollo from now on if he wants to play the twelve labors with this much better-looking Herakles. Too bad you weren’t given the gift of prophecy to see this coming. He should be in Tartarus, right where he belongs. A guy like Toji surely has a reserved space down there waiting for his arrival (he doesn’t, thank you Gege).

His eyes no sooner land on you causing your chest to tighten. You’re too afraid to even breathe, his presence is so overwhelming it has you in a chokehold. “There she is,” he drawls all low and husky-like that you can’t help the shiver that comes after.

He’s escorted in with the help of a few officers who lead him to the chair at your side. You shoot a look back to your boss that resembles a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming freight train, and not just any train ─ no, we’re talking the 777 runaway from the movie Unstoppable.

Toji wastes no time sitting down, his body easily spilling out the sides of the chair. He’s unbothered, maybe even happy about it once you feel his knee grazing your own. He moves with purpose, just like any other action. When it comes to Toji, there are no such things as accidents.

You don’t dare look his way, but you can feel his predatorial gaze aimed right at you point blank like a green dot laser sight. He doesn’t need to see a demonstration of your fear because he already knows it ─ like he can smell it. With how skillful he is, that wouldn’t surprise you if he could like this is all some alpha/omega type story. But who can blame you for being afraid?

It’s horrifying when you know you’re sitting next to a killer capable of committing the perfect crime. One look was all it took to have you ready to turn and run with your tail caught between your legs the night he was arrested.

It’s a miracle he even was caught, and you can’t shake the feeling there’s more to it than some divine intervention. There’s no closing Pandora’s box now, not when the monster inside is fixing to be put on a leash for your very own hands to control.

Your boss clears his throat, “Back to the matters at hand, I’m trusting you with this. You’re new to working in the field, but I expect good ─ and fast results.” He then points to Toji. “I expect you to behave as well. Otherwise, I’ll make sure the only thing you see for the rest of your days are four white walls.”

“Yes, sir,” you meekly respond, hearing an amused huff come from your new hunting dog of a partner. Actually, a hunting wolf would be a better comparison over a mutt, unless of course we’re talking Cerberus.

Either way, you can’t help but feel like a rabbit that’s wandered onto the dinner plate of this vicious canine, awaiting your demise with a pretty little bow taped to your body. Instead of letting fear control you more than it has, you close your eyes and exhale.

Stay calm. Relax. This could be fun if he behaves.

You’re a criminal psychologist, and from your profile analysis, Toji is the best possible specimen to work with. Everywhere he goes, he’s a force of nature leaving a trail of wreckage in his wake. It’s like he’s got some point to prove to the world, presumably caused by his upbringing you hope to learn about, as with most other criminals.

The contracts he picks up usually lead to a lot of faces the FBI has had their eyes on; sex traffickers, drug lords, serial killers, hell he's even taken down whole gangs in one night. You can’t lie that his morally gray work doesn’t make your own life easier, as cruel as his methods are.

There are numerous questions you’d like to ask him, enough to make a whole college dissertation surrounding the organ in his skull alone. The one on your mind the most is why he stopped for several years. What happened during that time span that led him to go radio silent? You have some theories, and all you need now are answers.

“Do I get a gun now?” he asks, looking to your boss with a hopeful expression.

“No.”

“Hell no.”

He looks away, clearly annoyed with that answer. “Tch.”

“What do you expect? You’re a criminal,” you say directly and right to his face. Guess your little breathing exercise really did help you get your spunk back.

“Innocent until proven guilty, sweetheart.” His tone is mocking and the smirk he flashes infuriates you. “I think if I’m going to be doing your job, I should have a way to protect myself, don’t ya think?”

“What, those muscles of yours aren’t bulletproof?” you respond, laying on the sarcasm, not forgetting to roll your eyes after for dramatic effect.

“Enough,” your boss growls, glaring back and forth between the two of you. “Learn to play nice, we have a killer to catch before another body ends up as a file on our desks.”

“Yes, sir,” Toji drawls mockingly, adding in a two-finger salute. You can already tell he’s the type of person that has to have the last word in an argument.

This is going to be a pain in my ass.

After the meeting ends, Toji’s escorted away while you finalize the details with your boss and all your favorite “squints” at the lab. You love your job for making every day feel like an episode of all your favorite crime dramas.

Later on as you sat at your desk going through files, you’re disrupted by the sudden hand that comes down over the stack of papers in front of you. You follow the cobweb of veins up to a pair of stunning green eyes.

“Jesus ─ fuck, don’t sneak up on me!” You slap his arm with the back of your hand, but he doesn’t budge.

Instead, he leans down until you feel his sultry breath right up against your ear. “I wouldn’t be good at what I do if I couldn’t sneak up on someone, ya know?” he teases, pulling away when you about stomp on his foot with your heel.

“And what would it be that you do, Mr. Fushiguro?” you ask, hoping to get an easy confession out of the man to put an end to this headache.

“Name’s Toji, sweetheart.” He grins knowingly, and you feel a flicker in your chest as a result of that devilish face and choice of words. You tell yourself it’s just agitation, I mean what else could it possibly be? You deal with emotions for a living so you should know these things.

You huff at him, of course he won’t make this easy. You grab a few folders as you stand, wordlessly making your way out the door from the office.

“Where are we goin’, sweetheart?” he questions, trailing closely behind you like a puppy ─ a dangerous puppy.

Forget thinking it would be fun to pick his brain, now you’d rather find joy in picking him apart with your bare hands. “Name’s Y/N, Toji, feel free to use it,” you scoff.

You’re playing a risky game, and you know it. Choosing to challenge Toji is like throwing gasoline on an open flame, waiting to see if the flames grow or follow the stream back until it explodes in your hand like a backyard barbeque gone wrong.

You don’t care if he does erupt, the sooner he tries anything or confesses, you have the killer of a lifetime stuck behind bars and the world becomes a safer place. Until you remember that he’s not some chaotic evil underworld tycoon, just a hired killer that’s taken down some truly sinister individuals. That much makes you question your moral compass on whether he should be locked away.

No, he needs to be locked up. You’re the one in the FBI, crime-fighting is your job, not his.

Toji doesn’t talk much the way down to the parking lot, and you’re thankful for that. The man casually strolls up to the driver’s side with you and holds out his hand expectantly. When you don’t respond he even does a little grabby hand motion.

“Toji.” You stare back at him like he just insulted you. “I’m not letting you drive a government vehicle. Do you even have a license?”

“Come on,” he groans, and now he’s pouting like a toddler fixing to throw a tantrum. “If you aren’t giving me a gun, the least you could do is let me drive.”

“Forget it, it’s not happening,” you tell him, opening the door for yourself and closing it before he has a chance to complain. His eyes narrow with his ever-growing frustration as he walks around to the opposite side.

When you put a guy like Toji into any room, he has a way of making everything ─ and everyone ─ feel tiny in comparison, and that’s especially true when the room in question is the interior of the average Dodge Charger.

You gotta admit, they cleaned him up nicely. His suit pants fit nice and snug, but the white button down looks a size too small as the fabric strains around his muscles. The black tie is out of place on Toji, but you think it adds some charm like the scar over his lips. He seems to look good in anything he wears, even an orange jumpsuit, but that’s a given when you’re an already attractive person. Fuck, he really is a devil in the body of a god.

“You gonna ogle me all day or take me somewhere fun already?” He rolls his head in your direction; obviously still upset you won’t let him drive. Typical.

“This isn’t a date you know,” you say back as though you aren’t blushing like a woman in heat. You turn the car on and are met by “I Hate Everything About You”by Three Days Grace over the radio. A funny coincidence given the situation, really. That’s all it is, right? No way could you feel that sort of affection for a man that kills for a living.

You proceed out of the lot, changing the topic before he has a chance to make another comment, “I assume they filled you in on what we’re dealing with?”

“They did but I didn’t care to listen.” He shrugs and you feel the vein on your forehead throb. I’m going to kill him, I really am.

“…Why?” you drawl, further losing patience with the man. Being cute doesn’t give you a pass to have a shit personality.

“Because none of the people talking were you and that was the whole point of this.” He gestures with his hand in the air, but you’re unsure the exact meaning of his words at this moment in time.

“I swear, are you ever going to stop with the flirting?” you sigh, resting your head against your hand as you slow for a red light. “Reach into my bag and pull out the folders, there’s some autopsy reports you can look at.”

He does as you ask, forcing you against the car door to accommodate his volume in the process. With your bag in hand, he settles back into his seat, giving you a quick wink that’s met with a deadpan stare. The light changes back to green and your eyes go forward to the road ahead.

“This your boyfriend?” You glance over to find your phone in his hand as he admires the lock screen. It’s a photo of you smiling, side by side with Suguru after your first case-closed.

“Put that away.” You swat your hand at him which only makes him chuckle. “And no, he’s my partner. Least when I’m not working with a killer.”

“You say that like you aren’t one, but that’s okay because you’re FBI and I’m the big bad criminal?” He rolls his eyes to further mock you before staring into the side of your face, practically burning holes into your features. After a moment, the scarred corner of his lip rises with sudden realization and his face lights up. “Wait…” He lets out a low gravelly laugh. “You’re a fuckin’ virgin, aren’t you?”

You immediately choke on air, swerving the car a bit. “E-excuse me!?”

“You haven’t killed anyone yet.” He leans back against the cushion, grinning like a maniac. “It’s nice to know you’re a virgin in other ways too though, my offer from the bar still stands. I can make you feel real good.”

He leans in over the console and of all the times you’ve been close to him, only now do you catch a waft of cologne mixing with his natural musk. It’s scary how captivating the smell is, bringing every nerve in your body to life all at once if you don’t open a window right away, which you do.

“Unless you want me to drive this car into a ditch, I suggest you shut the hell up.” You’re not serious, but if he keeps provoking you, that vision will quickly become reality. Some medical leave might do you some good.

“Ooo, scary. Your loss though.” His hands raise in a mock surrender before returning to the files in his lap. “Tell me about the case then, I want to hear it from you.”

A sigh escapes you for the nth time today. “For starters, we’ve dubbed the assailant as the “Cupid Killer”. Namely because their targets are always those in seemingly happy relationships,” you emphasize with air quotes.

“Why do you think that?” His brow raises, flipping through photos from the autopsy before landing on some of the ones from the crime scenes. “Ouch,” he hisses.

You catch him adjusting in the seat with careful consideration for a certain area, not missing the soft outline of something huge to say the least. God, get it together!

“Yeeaah, the killer enjoys making our victims choke on their own family jewels. As a psychologist, I’m inclined to believe there’s a reason for that.”

“You think they’re cheaters?”

“Bingo, hence why we suspect the killer to be female. They likely have emotional trauma that ties into to their choice of targets ─ like a revenge motive maybe.”

“What’s with this?” He holds a photo in front of you showing one victim’s exposed chest cavity.

“Every victim thus far has had their heart removed, but we’ve not been able to locate any part of the missing organ. It’s a mystery.” You turn off the road and into an empty amusement park, parking just in front of the gate. “It’s possible the killer is taking these hearts as a trophy or for some other purpose we’re just not seeing yet.”

He acknowledges you with a hum, putting the folder away carelessly before stepping out onto the concrete. With a few calculated strides, he’s back at your side scanning the area like some oversized bodyguard or protective boyfriend. It’d be sweet if he wasn’t a walking criminal that could easily snap your neck and ghost himself before the FBI even knows what happened.

The rest of the walk is quiet as you lead the hitman to the remnants of the latest crime scene, a Ferris wheel. There are still remnants in the area from CSU’s search, including all the various “keep out!” tapes or evidence numbers littered across the ground around the attraction. You walk up the metal steps leading to one of the empty bloodied cars of the ride.

“The body obviously isn’t here anymore but…” you pause, pulling out one of the folders and scanning through until you found some photos from the scene, passing them off to Toji. “Maybe you’ll see something we missed, with your experience.”

Toji takes the photos from you, laughing through his nose. “What I can see is that this chick likes adding a bunch of extra steps. I find it much more efficient to just stab someone and dump ‘em in a river.” He makes a sly and toothy grin.

“Hey, you mind repeating that for me?” You pull out your phone, nonchalantly opening a recording app. “I didn’t catch that.”

“Nice try, sweetheart,” he says with an amused expression, pushing your hand away. His head lowers towards you, hoping maybe he’ll get another reaction out of you without the threat of you driving off the road. “You didn’t say please.”

You flutter your eyelashes at him all innocent and pretty. The last thing you want to have to resort to with Toji is begging. You do have some dignity after all. “Please?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Nah, ya missed your chance. Better luck next time.”

Your face turns to a pout as you throw your phone back in your bag. You hate how much of a fool he makes you feel like. Even your ingenious brain can’t keep up as it turns to mush in his presence. Not a wrinkle in sight as far as you can tell so long as he’s around like some walking ironing board or steamer.

You have to remind yourself that he’s been at this longer than you. A man like Toji was always going to be a challenge one way or another, but you’ll crack him somehow eventually. You know you will.

“What did you learn from this scene?”

“Well for starters, our forensics division found the victim to have been deceased a few days before they were moved here. Another so-called happy couple whose girlfriend had nothing but good to say.”

“So,” he prompts, looking off into the surrounding distance. “How did they move the body here?” The way he makes himself sound like a college professor isn’t doing your mood any favors. He’s here to assist, not tutor you.

“There’s no evidence the victim was dragged, and even in a body bag we would’ve seen some form of chafing or fabric samples. The killer could’ve carried the body in, but that’s less likely given what we know about their physical strength.”

Toji gives the area another glance and you can hear him audibly sigh as disappointment takes over his features.

“What?” you ask, sounding a little too offended in your tone.

“Nothing.”

“Obviously it isn’t nothing.” Your hand moves to your hip, shifting your weight to one side. “I know you’re lying, Toji.”

“Yeah, cause you’re a shrink.” He scowls. “You should know when I’m lying.” You feel like there’s an underlying point he refuses to highlight on, but before you can ask, he’s already hot on the trail in the direction you entered the park from.

The nerve of this guy!

“Hey, wait!” you shout, running off after him. “Where are you going!?”

Another fun trait about this man you’re finding out is that he even walks like a serial killer. Think of any horror movie villain ─ Jason Vorhees, Michael Myers, even the damn Predator. You can be running for all you care, and the killer will still out speed you without even trying.

That’s Toji.

By the time you got back to your car, he’s already inside and buckled in. “What’s your deal?” you question, tossing your bag onto the backseat without a care.

“I expected a little more from you, to be honest.” He meets your eyes with a bored, lifeless expression. “It’s no wonder you guys are begging me to do your job.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He lifts one finger up, jabbing your forehead to push you back down into your seat. “Figure it out with that brain of yours, Y/N.”

For a psychologist, you’re not sure why it suddenly bothers you that he’s using your real name instead of the usual “sweetheart”. You choose to ignore it, turning the key in the ignition and driving off without another word.

There’s no radio this time or conversation, nothing to drown the awkward silence that hangs in the air. You glance over from time to time at almost every red light, but Toji’s expression remains the same. Eyes closed, his head leaning against a fist propped up along the door, just a resting stoic face. Fuck, even that’s a good look for him.

Your eyes trace lines down from his pointed nose to his chiseled jawline, taking note of how that very jaw clenches every so often or the small movements from under his eyelids. His black hair falls neatly over his face and you imagine how soft it must be to the touch.

Why of all people does the Invisible Man have to be this guy? This incredibly sculpted, god of beauty and sexual ferocity with a slutty little waist to match.

No matter how hard you try to avoid it, you’re slipping, and you know it. The longer this goes on, the harder you find it to continue trying to deny the obvious here. So deep into denial that you don’t even realize the web of red silk you’re ensnared upon.

BEEEEP.

“Shit,” you mutter, pressing on the gas pedal all too quickly as evident from the tires squealing. Toji muffles out a laugh and you spot a faint smile creeping up his face from the corner of your eye.

Damn him. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s a murderer, he’d be exactly your type of guy. You’re still reeling from his earlier comments, knowing he does have a point.

You’re an FBI agent, out in the field. At some point, you will be the one pulling the trigger and ending someone’s life. You understand perfectly well his line of thinking about justice and all, but when you’re the one standing on that threshold, it’s different, and you aren’t sure if you’re truly ready to cross the boundary.

“Where are we off to now?” he questions, and you’re at least thankful he dropped his attitude.

“A bar.”

“Oohh,” he snickers. “You trying to win me over with some alcohol? Good luck with that, I don’t get drunk.”

“I’m not doing this for your entertainment, I’m doing this for the case.” Your fingers anxiously tap the leather of the wheel. “I am going to ask you though to play along with my idea.”

He raises a brow all too eagerly, “What would that be, sweetheart?”

You swallow the lump in your throat before speaking, “…Pretend we’re dating.” You refuse to look at him after, not wanting to see whatever look is plastered on his face. Unbeknownst to you, he’s actually surprised.

“Don’t take it the wrong way.” You immediately cringe at your meek tone, knowing full well it’s his fault. “All of our victims have had alcohol in their system prior to their deaths, so it might be safe to assume a bar is where they find their targets.”

“And you want me to be your date, why?” he asks with that same annoying teacher tone he used on you earlier. How can one person be so insufferable and alluring at the same time?

“Our suspect is the Cupid Killer. They likely only go after men who are obviously in a relationship with someone. The bar we’re going to is having a Valentine’s Day special, which makes it a prime location our suspect could be in.”

“Smart,” he hums with approval. Does this mean you get that extra credit now? “You’ll have to be the one to treat me since the bureau locked all my cards.”

“Fine, but only because it’s covered under my expenses.” You roll your eyes, finishing the drive in silence until pulling up a few blocks away from the bar, intent on walking the rest.

As you come around to the sidewalk, Toji gets right up at your side and places his hand on the small of your back. Before you even have a chance to protest, his mouth is hot on your ear whispering, “Don’t forget that you asked for this.” His voice sends a shiver down your spine that doesn’t go unnoticed. It’s in his nature to not overlook a single detail after all.

If you only knew what else he knows, then it would be a real treat. From the way your thighs subconsciously squeeze when he violates your personal space to the hitching of your breath when he leans in close. He knows all too well what you won’t allow yourself to feel, and for that, he has a plan.

You make sure to send a message to your coworker, Kento, about having reached the destination. He’s like the Angela Montenegro of your division with his computer skills, always keeping a lookout over you in and out of work. You hate the ideologies of “work husband/wife”, but Kento’s become a “work dad” to you, without all the issues.

Toji’s taken on the role of a pretend boyfriend better than expected, making sure to open the door of the bar for you to enter, and even taking off your jacket to hang. He takes your hand and leads you over to some empty stools at the bar, tapping the counter to make his order.

The venue itself is louder than you’d prefer but go figure. There’s a crowd of couples celebrating the day of love. The lights were all shades of red and hot pink, and the music consisting solely of love songs.

The bartender returns shortly with drinks in hand, passing them to you both. You can easily tell he’s tired given the eyebags present and the disheveled bangs that hang loosely down over the tattoo across the bridge of his nose. His ghostly pale skin making a sharp contrast to the rest of him.

You take this chance to scan the rest of the bar, using your profiling experience to draw up any possible suspects from the groups present. Nothing too major strikes your fancy so far, but the night is early, and happy hour has only just begun.

“You should keep your eyes on me, sweetheart.” You snap your head to the assassin, ready to protest before he interrupts with two fingers under your chin, “You want to show off how in love~ you are with me, don’t you?”

“If it weren’t for this whole thing I’d be spilling this drink over your face,” you spit, ignoring the fiery aftermath of his touch against your skin. It’s just the alcohol, not him. You shouldn’t even be drinking on the job!

“Ouch, am I not your type?” He feigns hurt feelings. “No…that’s not it.” He corrects himself, eyes burning into you as though he’s the shrink in this totally fake couple. “You’re just frustrated is all, I can tell.”

That’s it, I’m done.

Your hand attempts to move on its own, ready to follow up with your threat until his own locks around yours. “Aht aht, sweetheart,” he purrs with a salacious smile.

“Why are you like this?”

“What can I say? You interest me deeply.” He closes the distance between you both without breaking contact with your eyes. Obsidian swallowing his green pools, fuck ─ even his eyes are hypnotizing!

He allows his lips to ghost over your own for a moment before grazing your cheeks on a path up to your earlobe. “How can I not be when a girl as pretty as you also had the balls to put a hit out on herself, all for me?” He licks his bottom lip afterwards, watching the goosebumps trail down your neck before pulling back.

You try and hide your flustered expression with the drink in hand, but you’re too late as always when it comes to Toji. Remember the part about him never overlooking details? All in the job description.

“I had to do something to get your attention,” you say in defense. “We were all freaking out when you suddenly popped back into existence after a stagnant five years. What’s the deal with that anyways?”

All of a sudden, his eyes went dark. The twinkle he had in eyes before extinguished and replaced with coldness. Or maybe loneliness? “That isn’t your business.” His voice drops an octave and for once instead of misplaced arousal, there’s some actual fear present in your core.

“Hey at least you aren’t denying it this time,” you tease. “Too bad I’m not recording this time around.”

He ignores you, taking a long swig of his drink. You watch the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, resting your head against your hand on the counter. While his brows knit together, you can make out the faint little crinkles forming around his eyes for someone of his age. He’s not old ─ no, but he’s at least in his thirties and most likely doesn’t have a strict skincare routine like you.

Your attention is drawn to the newest song playing overhead, “Lover’s Rock” by TV Girl. Toji must’ve noticed your interest for how quickly his mood shifts and you find your hand encased with his own.

Are you sick of me? Would you like to be?

I’m trying to tell you something. Something that I already said.

He pulls you out onto the dancefloor, intertwining your fingers together with his free hand on your waist. Yours settles on his ridiculously large bicep. Does he stuff himself with steel? Throw a jacket and shades on him and you’ve got yourself a living, breathing Terminator.

You like a pretty boy. With the pretty voice.

Who’s trying to sell you something. Something that you already have.

You could feel him softening up as you find your pace, letting him twirl you around between the other couples like you’re his doll. The look on his face remains nearly unreadable each time you meet his jade eyes.

But if you’re too drunk to drive. And the music is right.

She might let you stay. But just for the night.

The longer you stare, the more you catch glimpses of the emotions he won’t share. Curiosity. Confliction. Affection. Hurt. Love. Grief. It’s as though his body is actively fighting against them surfacing in order to steer away from vulnerability. You see it all too clearly. Behind those mesmerizing orbs lies pure heartfelt honesty.

And if she grabs for your hand. And drags you along.

His lips meet yours in an instant, closing the window view to his soul in the blink of an eye. You didn’t fight it, how can you? It felt like time had stopped and the universe only consisted of you and Toji, side by side like two neutron stars spiraling inwards to meet the other in a phantasmal display of cosmic power.

Even your traitorous pussy is firing off gamma-ray bursts in the form of pulses perfectly in sync with the beating of your two hearts as one united being. You’ve officially crossed the event horizon into the singularity. To think you even had a chance to resist his gravitational pull was a foolish dream.

She might want a kiss. Before the end of the song.

Because love…

You push away from Toji who stares back at you through half-lidded eyes swarming with desire. “I-I’ll be right back,” you murmur, rushing off to the nearest restroom.

…burns like a cigarette.

And leave you alone with nothing.

When you made it just outside the restroom, you took one last look to where you left Toji, seeing him talking with some chestnut-haired woman. Jealousy fills your throat, stinging like bile.

And leave you alone with nothing…

Once inside, you waste no time approaching the sink and splashing some cold water on your face. The reflection you find in the mirror looks like you, but her pupils are blown into heart shapes with twinkling little stars of adoration.

Get it together! You clap your cheeks with the palms of your hands. He’s a killer for god’s sake! Anything he’s doing is just a lie to get what he wants (it’s not, and you know it). Another voice calls out from lower in your body, Oh, but I think I’m in love with this criminal…

Fuck.

You exit the bathroom a few minutes later, sighing heavily as you walk down the dimly lit hallway back to wherever Toji is. Out of nowhere, a hand coils around your wrist, yanking you into one of the storage rooms.

You’re fixing to yell and go for the gun hidden under your shirt, but a large, rough hand clasps itself over your mouth and the other keeps your arm fixed behind you.

“Shh, don’t,” Toji warns in your ear. His body is actively caging you against the wall and you can’t help the fear that bubbles up until the voices outside the room draw your attention.

“Oh, come on~ I think it’ll be fun!” a female starts to speak.

“Baby,” another chimes in, male this time. “I’m not so sure about this.”

“Don’t you want to spice things up a bit? I’m getting a little bored, don’t you want to do something different for once?”

Considering Toji’s urgency, you can only assume this isn’t some normal couple chatting outside. Could it really be the Cupid Killer? If that is the case, then this is your opportunity to arrest them and put a stop to the killings! What is Toji doing!?

You squirm in his grip trying to break free, but he refuses to budge even as you bite down on the hand covering your mouth. The door is slightly ajar and peeking through, you can just barely make out some features of the man. Older, dark hair, glasses maybe too?

“Quick fuckin’ moving unless you’re trying to start something with me,” he groans. You’re unsure what he’s getting at, but after he adjusts his body, a heavy weight along your back tells you all you need to know. He exhales deeply, and the heat of his breath hits your neck all at once like a dragon fanning flames.

When the coast is clear, he spins you around so your back is against the wall, arms planted on either side of your head. Even in the dark, you can make out the starved eyes ready to eat you up for dinner.

“Toji, what the fuck was that about?” you whisper-shout at him, your anger evident. “If that was the killer, then we could’ve done something, we had the chance to!”

“You really want to confront them in a public place and put the lives of others at risk? You think a virgin like you can handle that?”

“I could’ve called for backup or better yet, let you at them since you’re so experienced! Since when do you care about the lives others anyways?” Your patience is dangling by a thread. “Have you spent the past five years being a saint or something? Huh? Do enlighten me, or better yet I’m sure I can do it myself now that I’ve gotten the chance to know you.”

“Cut it out,” he growls, pulling harshly on your wrist as he exits the closet space. He leads you out through the main area of the bar, seemingly uncaring to what others might think watching you both.

“Let go of me!” you futilely attempt to pry his fingers off with your own. He doesn’t so much as spare you another look as you’re taken out of the bar and led in the opposite direction away from your car. “Where do you think you’re taking me?”

“Be a good girl and shut up until we’re there.” He exchanges his grip around your wrist to that of your hand, encasing it perfectly inside his own. It’s odd, but you’re too distracted by whatever’s going on to think much about it.

“What if I don’t want to? I don’t have to listen to you, I’m the one calling the shots here.”

His head snaps your way with a petrifying glare. “If you want to be a brat, then I’ll treat you like one. You’d do well to take my advice.” You click your tongue spitefully in response, the one part of you not turned to stone by his eyes.

The man’s as stubborn as the Cretan bull with horns to match. Having a gun and a badge don’t make you the next Theseus either. You’re sure Toji could easily take down a Minotaur with his own hands and walk away scot-free.

The tension between you two now is thick enough that you’d need a chainsaw to cut cleanly through, but you refuse to be the one pulling the startup cord to do so. Well, at least until you see where he so insistently dragged you along to.

“Toji?” You act innocent, pretending you’re not surprised while blinking upwards at the neon sign overhead. “Why the hell did you bring me to a love hotel?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Not really.”

“Tch, then act like you do.”

He releases your hand and pulls flush against his body at your waist, ushering you inside. The worker at the front desk is quick to greet you both. “One night, preferably somewhere quiet,” Toji says to them as he leans over the counter pretending to whisper, “This one’s got a tendency to scream.” He winks, and your jaw goes completely slack.

I’m going to kill him; I really am.

The receptionist passes you a look of…pity? Jesus fucking Christ.

“Toji~ don’t say something like that, it’s embarrassing!” You laugh it off while at the same time digging your elbow into his side, "I keep telling him the clit doesn't need to be pounded on like a trampoline, but at least he can figure out where it is on his own now!” You smile innocently to the worker, not even bothering to whisper.

“W-what name for the room?” they ask with an awkward look on their face. You’re sorry to put this person just doing their job in the middle, but someone has to humble Toji. Paybacks a three-folded bitch.

“Fushiguro,” he responds, pulling out your wallet to pay from your back pocket. You did say you’d be charging the bureau but you’re not going to enjoy explaining this one charge to your boss.

They hand you a key which Toji snatches up, wasting no time in pushing you on your way. The room itself was exactly what you expect a love hotel to look like, especially around Valentine’s Day.

Red satin or velvet everything, rose petals scattered on the floor and bedding, various red and pink sex toys lined up. There’s even a clothing rack with several costumes to choose from if you’re into that.

Toji pushes past you, shutting himself away inside the bathroom. You figured he might try and say something to defend his masculinity, but not saying anything at all worries you even more.

Moments later you hear the shower kick on, so you opt to lay down on the heart-shaped bed to wait, letting Kento know what’s up and ordering a room service pizza delivery.

He comes out after around ten minutes, still drying his damp hair with one towel while another loosely hangs off his waist. Oh sweet Adonis. If you thought he was attractive before, then you’re in the presence of the almighty now.

Every inch of his skin is a perfect ratio of muscle, scars, and veins. Even his abs have abs that all trail down the V-shaped landing strip barely visible above the hem of the towel. Phidias himself would have a field day with his body. You’re surprised there isn’t any steam radiating off him, but a peek into the bathroom behind him doesn’t reveal any foggy mirrors.

What the fuck am I doing?

You roll away to face the wall, hoping it might stop the incessant meows coming from your body. You’re supposed to hate him, not want to fuck him!

Clearing your throat, you brush away those indecent thoughts. “So…Fushiguro, huh? Care to explain that?”

“Not really.” He stops short of the bed, tossing the towel in his hands somewhere else in the room. You can feel his presence hovering over you, but you refuse to look. You know if you do, then something inside you will snap.

“Look Toji. If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine, I get it,” you sigh. “But figure your shit out so we can work together properly and catch our killer.”

“You still can’t see it with that brain of yours?”

“Huh? What do you even mea- hey!” His hand latches onto your ankle, pulling you to the foot of the bed. You’re about to kick him but instead make the mistake of looking into his eyes first and once again you find yourself at the other end of Medusa’s stone-cold glare.

“Do you think I’m stupid? Do you honestly believe I would be careless enough to be captured by the FBI if I didn’t have a reason?”

“I don’t know, Toji! W-we all just assume you’ve gotten rusty.”

“What do you think, Y/N. I don’t give a shit what your coworkers think of me.” He tilts his head, drawing himself ever closer to you. “I know you’re smart enough to see my intentions.”

“Toji, I-I can’t…” You move to cover your face with your hands, but Toji stops you, holding them above your head. He raises one leg up onto the bed, effectively caging you under him.

“You can’t, or you don’t want to?” The towel conveniently slips off, pooling on the floor. “’Cause there’s a big difference there, sweetheart.”

Fuck, fuck, this is too much!

“I-I just ─ I can’t, this is wrong!”

His eyes swirl with a dangerous mix of mischief and desire, and Aphrodite help you if it doesn’t turn you on more. “If you really want me to stop then I will, no questions asked; but I don’t need to be a shrink to read what your body is telling me.”

The moment you feel his breath fanning your lips, that very something you were worried about snapping, snaps. Your lips part way like a glimmer of green for Toji and he’s on them in a second, kissing and suckling on the plush tissue like he’ll never have another chance.

His tongue swipes your bottom lip, as if he’s asking for an invitation inside. You oblige, greeting him at the entry with your own and soon finding the taste to be just as intoxicating as the rest of him.

The hand bounding your wrist releases and you’re quick to find purchase around the back of head. His hair even while wet is just as soft as you imagined it would be. Soon, you feel the tip of the Hydra’s head rub against the fabric of your pants, begging for some form of relief to come.

Toji pulls away with a clear string of dew still connecting you two as one, observing you through half-lidded bedroom eyes and a wolfish grin. This must’ve been how Psyche felt when she first laid eyes on Eros, completely enamored by his beauty.

His thick fingers come down, doing away with the buttons of your shirt to reveal the golden fleece lace of your bra hidden inside. You turn away, cheeks turning a delicate shade of flustered. “Aht aht, eyes on me, sweetheart.”

Begrudgingly, you face him once more eliciting a “Good girl” from the man, sending straight pulses down to your pussy. His voice is laced with sin and if getting off to it makes you a sinner, then you’ll gladly become one.

Toji can’t help the groan that escapes his throat once your bra and free and off to the side. With your chest in full view he purrs, “So pretty.” before the padding of his thumb circles in on one of the buds.

“Toji~” you mewl, trying to tilt your hips over his knee to relieve the pressure building between your thighs, growing ever more desperate for his touch.

“Shh, I’m getting there.” He licks a stripe up your earlobe, nibbling on the soft flesh. “Don’t be impatient or I’ll stop right here,” he warns, but it’s a false threat. If you brain wasn’t so foggy you could see that, but unless you actively tell him no, he isn’t stopping for anything now.

His lips find their way across your jawline, moving down your throat and leaving behind blooming red roses in his wake. You throw your head back deeper into the satin sheets once your whole tit is encased in his mouth. Toji lips work wonders on the soft flesh, biting and suckling in ways you never thought you’d gain pleasure from. Sure, you play with your own chest while masturbating, but never has it pushed you to the brim of an orgasm quite like this.

Again you find that Toji never fails to overlook the minor details, even when it comes to your own pleasure so unfamiliar to him, the squirming and the mewls coming out of you are all he needs to see and hear before he’s pulling away and you’re left whining.

“Fuck, Toojjii,” you drawl out with frustration, trying to use his hair as leverage to pull him back. He grabs your wrist, keeping it still in his grip as he brings his mouth up and over your fingers.

Fuck, you could cum just from this sight too. A beauty like Toji and that knowing look he gives while your dainty little fingers swirl around his tongue. His other hand is just rubbing up and down your thigh with feather-light touches. Every time he gets close to your heat, he reverses direction, but every return brings him closer and closer.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let me hear every pretty noise that mouth of yours can make,” he tells you in the most saccharine tone you’ve ever heard. Truth be told, from the way you sound and call out his name with such neediness, he would’ve busted right then and there had he not relieved himself in the cold shower earlier.

Toji’s fingers loop around the hem of your pants, removing the fabric from your body to join the rest on the floor. He sits himself up, admiring your choice of matching panties that highlight the beautiful curves of your body. With one precise movement, his thumb lands perfectly overtop your pearl.

“What was that you said earlier?” he teases, rubbing patterns into the bundle of nerves and forcing such pretty moans from you. “Tell me, did I find your clit alright? How am I making her feel?” he chuckles deeply and you’re at a loss for words.

God, when you said this man always had a point to prove, this isn’t exactly what you had in mind.

Just when you find yourself on the white cliffs of ecstasy once more, he removes his hand, flashing you a sinister smirk that infuriates you beyond belief. Before you’re able to protest, his fingers hook around the sides of your panties, slowing prying them away from your dripping folds with a look of sheer cockiness all over that stupidly sweet face.

“Look at this pretty cunt drooling for me.” He uses two digits to spread your lower lips, eyes lost on your perfect little hole clenching around nothing. The sight of it makes his own cock twitch with anticipation. “How long have you been walking around all wet like this, hm?”

All day. But you won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

“Since you started touching me.” Is what you muster up.

“That so?”

No. “Y-yeah.”

He shrugs with disbelief. “Whatever you say.” And you should know better than to take him for a fool.

He gathers some slick over his middle finger, resting the tip perfectly over your virgin hole doing all it can to suck him inside. He exhales deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. “Relax, sweetheart. Let me take good care of ya now, okay?”

You nod your head in a frenzy, biting your bottom lip as pushes up into your gummy walls. A couple of your fingers is nothing compared to one of Toji’s size, and you haven’t even gotten to elephant in the room swaying against your leg. With depravity as the pit and his cock as the pendulum, there’s only one way this is going to go.

“So tight for me, I hope I don’t break you.” The sudden pressure that follows his words tells him all he needs to know about how much you enjoy this. He knew you’d be good for him. A challenge at first, but he lives for those. If earning your heart and getting to split you open with his mighty broadsword meant he had to undergo the twelve labors, then so be it. He’ll finish those in record time unseen since 1300 BCE.

With a curl of his finger, he undoubtably finds your g-spot judging by the saccharine gasp that leaves your mouth. Your back arches in a way that puts the golden ratio to shame, for you are the true measure of beauty.

You on the other hand are hit with a wave of embarrassment. Who knew you could make such pornographic sounds? Not you, and it’s such a shock that you feel the need to shield your face with the use of your arm.

Big mistake.

“What’d I tell you before?” he growls, ceasing any and all movement.

“Sorry,” you murmur, uncovering your face. His finger goes back to your sex, circling the entrance methodically.

“Don’t you dare hide away from me. I want to hear you scream for me tonight.”

Who knew being threatened by an assassin in bed could be so damn hot? And here you thought you could deny what your pussy already knew.

You could say he’s punishing you by pumping in an extra finger this time around, but in his experienced mind, it’s high time the prep work really begins with some scissoring action. The added stretch stings like a bitch, contorting your face. Surviving the main event is going to take a miracle from above.

Sensing your slight displeasure, Toji slots his head down between your legs and while maintaining the steady rhythm of his fingers, his lips envelop your clit perfectly, better than any rose toy ever could hope to achieve.

“Toji,” you breathe and to the sailor kissing you up, it’s like the voice of a siren invading his ears. If that’s the case, then he’s more than happy to let you sink those harpy talons into him and take him for everything he’s worth.

For the third time of the evening, the knot in your stomach threatens to burst. Every pump of his fingers is akin to the hammer of a blacksmith working over the searing forge that is your pent-up body. History has it all wrong for Hephaestus is a green-eyed mass of all that is good and far from ugly.

He gambles whether or not to edge you for a third time, but the taste in his mouth is pure ambrosia, and who is he to deny the heavenly gift? In order to not waste a single drop, he removes his finger, fitting his entire face in between your folds. His nose batters against your clit, inhaling the divine smell that sends his eyes rushing to the back of his head with a lengthy groan to follow.

The humming is what sets you off, finally bursting the dam and letting white wash over you like a tidal wave of arousal. He swears he could cum from your face, taste, and screams alone ─ and god does he try so hard to resist flooding your legs and painting the sheets instead of your insides.

You finally come to when a sharp bang clashes against the wall.

“What was that?”

“It’s a love hotel, probably someone who likes it rough.”

He’s completely uncaring, and for all the right reasons. Toji finally has you right where he wants you and he’s going to enjoy every second of it. His tongue is working wonders to clean up all the clear liquid runoff, leaving your pearl with the pop of his mouth.

“Best fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever tasted, sweetheart,” he tells you with such a lewd expression.

You can tell he isn’t lying about that either given your degree of experience. If Toji ever went to college, you’re sure he walked out with a PhD in sex. Hell, at this point it wouldn’t surprise you if he has a Nobel Prize in cunnilingus.

He sees that fucked out face of yours staring up at him with stars in your eyes and little do you realize what you’re doing to him. Every cell in his body is crying out to claim you all for himself, pleading to what little control he has left that without you, there is nothing left for him.

That’s all he needed to hear before the next thing you know, both of your legs are lifted up and over his ridiculously muscled thighs and the 13th wonder of the world falls onto your stomach with a thump.

Shit, how is that behemoth going to fit inside you?

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it fit all nice and snug.”

Great, is he telepathic now?

“T-toji I don’t thi-“

“Shh, sweetheart, please,” he pleas and it’s as much of a shock to you as it is to him to have heard it escape unchecked from his mouth. He really does mean it though ─ and if he has to beg for it, he sure as fuck will. “Just relax for me baby, okay?”

You wearingly nod your head and watch as he pulls back, grazing all the delectable inches over your clit. There’s a trail of white beading left behind that he takes into his fingers, smearing it around the angry crown of the hydra’s head.

And like some crazy sex sonar, it falls perfectly against the entrance to the gates of pussy heaven. Fuck, if this doesn’t prove you two were meant to be together, he doesn’t know what will.

His expression darkness into what could be best described as cunthirsty in nature. “I’m going to ruin you now for anyone else, and you know why?” Your eyes screw shut as his cock bullies its way past the pearly gates. “You’re all mine, sweetheart.”

“Hahh─ fuck!”

“There, there,” he releases the filthiest guttural groan you’ve heard from it yet tonight. “Relax~”

He’s really trying if you can believe it or not. It’s taking everything in his power to rein himself from crashing his hip against your ass in one fell swoop. The sight of his cock splitting the pink seas to disappear inside outshines the beauty of any marble statue or painting.

The stretch is unbelievably insane and has you crying out in your thoughts to the 12 Olympians for mercy.

“Shit, sweetheart, there are no gods here. Only you and me.”

“Nghh, Toji please.”

His thumb comes down over your clit, smoothing you out as he plunges the rest of the way and bottoms out.

“That’s it,” he drawls. “Just like that baby. You’re doing so well taking me all in one go.”

You don’t realize how hard you’ve been gripping the fabric of the sheets until Toji’s hand works its way between. Taking it into his own, he presses your palm down around your belly button and adds some pressure that results in some blissful whimpers from you.

“You feel that?” You nod in response. “Words, sweetheart. I haven’t fucked those out of you just yet.”

“Yes! Fuck, please please.”

“So needy,” he snickers. You thankfully don’t have to say anything more before he’s reading your thoughts again and starts moving his hips back and forth.

Maybe the real challenge of this all is trying not to cum early, your grip is otherworldly. He spots a few tears dotting your cheeks and swipes them away. In the thrill of the moment, he decides to taste those and surprise, they’re just as sweet as the rest of you.

Not even King Arthur himself would be able to pull him out of you now. There’s no going back and all that’s left to truly claim you is to mark you in every way he knows how.

He’s the best kind of weighted blanket the way he hangs on you. One that comes with the added bonus of the plethora of new roses adorning your neck and collar.

“Such a good pussy for me ─ fuck this was worth everything.”

“Mmpfm?” you muffle out incoherently, unable to form a cohesive word when every piston movement has you seeing stars.

“I knew you were gonna be special the moment I saw that ad online,” he groans between thrusts and disheveled breaths, speeding up with every passing moment. “Pretty girl like you throwing herself to the wolves. I f-fucking knew your work before accepting that hit.”

He knew all along!?

This new information hits you like the freight train you were afraid of at the start. He never once became rusty, no ─ he went full dormant like a supervolcano.

“You wanna know why I did that?” His mouth meets yours in a messy kiss, clashing teeth and all before planting his forehead against yours. Those green eyes have long since been swallowed up with black hearts.

“I-hhahd to see what you were like in person. I needed to see just who are for myself.” God, if his moans weren’t some of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard. “You’re crazy, you know? Hell, if I ain’t crazy as all fuck for you now.”

“Fuck, fuck, Toji!” you scream as he bites down on your jugular, the moment you’ve been waiting for since the beginning. The maw of the wolf meeting the throat of the perverse bunny loving every minute of this.

“You wanna cum, sweetheart? You gonna let me cum in you? Let me show you who you belong to now?”

There isn’t hardly a second to think as he ruts his hips mercilessly into your core. His once domineering side morphing under the full moon into a pure animalistic nature with all intentions of fucking and claiming you as his. Dark romance novels wish they could achieve what Toji already accomplishes.

“Y-yes, yes─ please Toji, make me yours, please!”

“Good fucking girl.” Is all he manages to exhale before carnal desire takes over and he sinks his teeth back into your neck with a bruising grip.

The groans and warmth that follow in your cunt shoot through you and straight to the heart like it’s your Achilles heel.

You sigh and scream his name a thousand times in a siren song melody that does exactly what he knew you could do for him. Your body shakes and convulses, draining his balls dry and maybe even his soul after when that was all that remained.

For what feels like an eternity after, you’re untethered from the Earth, drifting in a realm of white where the only noise you hear is the synced rhythm of your hearts beating as one.

When you come to following the magnitude 10 orgasm, Toji’s full weight is on top of you his cock buried deeply. You pat his scratched up back (courtesy of you) a few times, but to no avail.

“Toooji~ you’re heavy,” you voice, wincing at the hoarseness of your own throat. Guess he was right about the whole screaming thing.

He groans with disapproval, eventually succumbing when you start pinching the raised crop circles you created. Not wishing to pull out, he simply rolls onto his back, trading places. The next few minutes are spent in silence, still catching each other’s breaths as he rubs his coarse hand up and down your back soothingly.

Post-nut clarity has never him as hard as it has until now.

“Letting myself get arrested by you has to be one the dumbest things I’ve ever done for pussy.”

Is that all he thinks of this as?

You swallow the bitter lump in your throat. “…do you regret it?”

“Not for a second,” his hand finds its way under the chin you’re so desperately trying to hide between the cascading mountains of his chest. “Look at what you’ve done to me, sweetheart.”

There on his face, you find that his eyes are slowly returning to the beautiful green you that so captivated you about him. Beyond that luscious forest of color lies his deeper emotions: adoration, lust, affection, longing, love.

Love.

It really makes people do such stupid things.

A smarter man would’ve avoided getting arrested and instead just asked you nicely to treat you for dinner. Toji’s without a doubt a smart, tactful man. But he exhibits such raw energy to a fault that leads him to believe the thrill of the hunt would be more worth if it means he gets the golden horned hind at the end as opposed to any other frolicking red deer.

It worked out though, for now he’s staked his claim and made his caveman ancestors proud.

“Fushiguro was my wife’s last name,” he tells you, and you can hear the subtle grief in his tone.

“I figured it had to be someone, but you were married? We never saw that in our background check on you.”

“That’s because I’m good at my job,” he huffs. “I kept my wife separate from it all, including any official documents so she could never be traced to me.”

His left hand raises as he takes a moment to observe the empty spot on his ring finger. There’s a faint discoloration around the skin proving the passage of time under the sun. Proving that time with her really did exist.

“If you’re uncomfortable, you don’t have to continue.” You bring your hand up just next to his scar, gliding your thumb over the rough edges.

“My wife, she… passed away during childbirth.” He doesn’t break eye contact now with you, and while the muscles on his face don’t show how he feels, you can see it swirling all around the depths of his eyes. “All I have left of her is my son, Megumi. Our little blessing.”

“I don’t think that’s true, Toji. Not anymore.” He takes his hand and ruffles your hair, knowing what you’re getting at like always with him.

“Truthfully, I think it’s a downright terrible you opted to return to murder to pay the bills, but I’d say Megumi is lucky to have a father that’d go that far for their child’s future.”

It is a cruel thought, but Toji isn’t and probably never has been a normal person. If killing is all you’ve ever known, you understand how hard it can be to find some other purpose in life.

“You know, I almost wasn’t sure I’d even get this far with you, but I’m glad.” He smiles, and it’s one of the most genuine faces you’ve seen him make to date. Toji’s not some psychopathic killer ─ no, he’s someone dealt a shit hand in life doing whatever they can to get through each day like anyone else.

An unstable mind, sure, but also someone with the capability to love another with his whole being and change for the better. Had he not lost his wife, you most likely would never have seen another victim end up as paperwork on your desk.

“What would you have done if it hadn’t work out?” you ask, almost curious if that next victim would’ve been you if your team wasn’t ready to apprehend him, but you already know the answer to that, don’t you?

“If you think any prison could hold me, then you have a lot to learn,” he laughs, lifting you off his cock and resting you at his side. You whine at the empty feeling, making him grit his teeth to not get hard and ruin the moment. “I would be gone that very night and then you’d never see or hear from me again.”

The door knocks a few times, and you panic a bit wondering who it could even be. Reality crawls back from the recesses of your mind reminding you that you’re a government agent, currently fucked to high heaven with a criminal in a love hotel.

Toji hops off the bed, throwing a towel around his waist and he approaches the door without any fear.

“Toji─ wait!”

It’s too late, and he opens the door.

You clutch the sheets over your naked form, looking straight out of the Birth of Venus, holding your breath for whatever comes next.

“You ordered pizza?”

Oh.

You exhale with relief, “Yeah, we really haven’t eaten all day.”

“Really, after all the cream I filled you with?” he teases with the return of that beautifully salacious smile that you find to no longer be as infuriating as before. “I guess I could eat, but I might need you to quench my thirst again.”

You really do hate this man, but god if you didn’t fall pussy first into the depths of Hades and come out unscathed and madly in love.

Love works in mysterious ways.

“Shit, they make these things in heart shapes now?”

You chuckle and it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard from you, maybe even more than your voice moaning his name.

“Let’s eat and take a bath together, alright? I’m only just getting started with you.”

The morning after comes all too soon, no thanks to your unsilenced phone screaming into the void. Toji has you pinned in a borderline suffocating bear hug that you struggle to move yourself from to reach your phone.

“WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? I’VE BEEN TRYING TO REACH YOU FOR AN HOUR!?”

More like 15 minutes given the timestamps of the voicemails.

“Sorry, I just woke up. What’s going on?” Toji rumbles from behind you and you pray your boss didn’t hear. Granted, you are responsible for him so you should have him close. Love making closeness, however? Yeah, let’s not try and explain that to your boss.

“What’s going on is that we’ve got another victim. Get over to the Rose Garden Park. Now.”

“Shit!” You toss your phone to the side, slapping Toji’s unnecessarily large forearm. “Come on, wake up pillow princess.”

“Five more minutes.”

“No can do or I’ll get fired, let’s get moving.”

Toji releases you, but not without serenading you with his morning huskiness paired with a deep heavy groan. The sound of it sends goosebumps shooting down your spine at lightning speed.

Standing proved to be a challenge on par with Toji himself. It’s nearly impossible to flex any singular muscle without some sort of pain from the ten-inch semi that ran you over again, and again, and a third time for good measure the night before.

If you thought his morning groans were hot, the dark laugh he lets out as he watches you struggle makes you consider up and quitting from the FBI right then and there. Sadly, you don’t, because you do love your job. Well, that and the student loans knocking for their reimbursement and an extra dozen zeros of interest. Gotta love college.

“Come on, Toji.” You throw his clothes onto the morning wood tent pitching the sheets. “Get up already.”

“What, no breakfast in bed? Here I was hoping to wake up to some cake on my face,” he teases with the most shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen on someone.

“You can have that later during a conjugal visit if you’re a good boy, I can’t lose my job right now.”

“I’ll keep you to that then.” He winks, you roll your eyes.

While you’re still finishing up, Toji’s out of bed, cleaned, dressed, and ready to go. It’s not fair women are the ones left needing a cane after sex.

Out in the lobby, you end up passing by a familiar sight from the bar, aka the chestnut-haired woman that approached Toji following your earth-shattering kiss.

You can only assume that since she’s here that she must’ve gotten lucky with some other guy instead of yours truly. Why would anyone go to a love hotel of all places alone, after all?

This time around, Toji’s certain you’ll let him drive, but to his disappointment, that answer’s still no. It doesn’t matter how much of a limp he gave you; he can drive his own car if he ever gets the chance to again.

FBI and CSU are already covering the scene as you pull in, including some familiar faces that make the job worth every minute.

“Y/N!” one of the men shouts, rushing to give you a hug like an LDR’s first meetup. You’re quick to block his attempt, given the mess of dirt and evidence on his jumper.

“Uhh, ew Satoru. Did you forget where you are?”

“’Course not, but I haven’t seen you in like forever.” He rolls his eyes, playing dramatic as always, but you love him either way.

Satoru reminds you a lot of Jack Hodgins, even going so far as to perform the same career roles in analyzing evidence ─ crazy experiments and all. He and Suguru go way back and are set to be married soon.

“We literally just saw each other yesterday.” You shake your head, but with a playful smile tugging at your lips. The man behind you clears his throat, diverting your attention back to the case at hand. “So what do we got?”

“Victim’s a young male, likely early twenties.” Your other coworker, Shoko, chimes in. She’s the head of the forensics division for the bureau and one of your closest friends and “sister from another mister”.

“They’ve been dead for roughly 72 hours already, same MO as the rest. No doubt the Cupid Killer’s work.”

Toji brushes past you, crouching near the woman and the body. Your other coworker and intern to Shoko, Utahime, gives him a questionable look before backing away to make room.

“What do you think?” he asks, no doubt intending for you to answer. He doesn’t even look your way but if there’s one thing you’ve learned from throughout this whole ordeal, is that he’s only interested in you and no one else.

He really is all yours. Even his criminal nature is being locked behind rose-tinted glass after a day with the man named Toji instead of the assassin codenamed Invisible Man.

Shit, has it really been only one day and you’re now complete and utterly head over heels for the guy?

Better believe it, sweetheart.

Just what is this deviant god of pleasure and what has he done to you? It wouldn’t surprise you if he came out and said his mother is Aphrodite herself.

All those marks you’re so desperately trying to hide under the collar of your jacket from the FBI weren’t for nothing. Not to mention how Toji’s back looks like a grizzly bear used him instead of a tree to mark their territory. That, and the plethora of roses you nipped and sucked to life across the expanse of his chest and abs he so wishes he could show off to the world.

“You’re all mine…”

Just remembering those words sends heat right to your kitty who’s actively purring and meowing this very moment.

Toji clears his throat, pulling you from your thoughts and reminding you that now is not the time to get all hot and bothered again. Least you’re not denying it anymore, that’s a step up from yesterday.

The crime scene for today is a public park with the victim placed upright on one of many benches with a view of a lake. His clothes are disheveled giving way to an empty chest cavity. There’s also the unnatural placement of genitals as with all the rest. At his side are a bouquet of red roses and baby’s breath ─ a classic romantic gesture ─ placed neatly in the crook of his elbow.

“I have to say, it looks a lot like they’re waiting for a date to arrive, but given the time of death, this one is staged as always.” You move closer to Toji’s side, using his shoulder as leverage while simultaneously ignoring Satoru’s questionable eyebrow at your obvious limp. “It’s a message of some sorts, like with all the rest of the victims.”

“What else do you see?”

“What else?” you say, confused.

You’re not missing anything are you? What could you possibly be missing. Toji sighs, but for once he won’t give you the cold shoulder over it. He points his finger out first at the chest, and then to empty groan.

What’s there to see that no one else would have? Unless it doesn’t quite pertain to physical evidence but something more psychological─

Oh.

“Fuck, how did I not see this before?” Toji stands up, looking at you expectantly. “The Cupid Killer isn’t one person. There has to be two.”

“Two? What makes you say that?” Satoru questions.

“Look at his thighs!” You snap on a pair of gloves, prodding your fingers along the flesh. “There’s knicks all along the skin; they weren’t careful ─ no, it’s completely rushed. They were angry when they did this but then look here!”

All eyes follow your hand up to the opening of the chest cavity. “It’s too clean, too careful. If all the killer wanted to do was exact revenge, why take such precautions to not damage the heart? If you even had the means to cleanly cut a heart out, why destroy the penis and everything around it in the process?”

“So why does that mean two killers then? I thought we established the hearts were trophies, so wouldn’t they need to be careful for that?”

“She’s right, it does makes sense,” Shoko interrupts. “The technique is different. The heart was cleanly removed with all the proper saws and cutters, but the rest is an amalgamation of whatever they had on hand, even with the previous victims.”

“The Ferris wheel too, that’s why you got all upset, Toji!” You paused, starting to pace back and forth as the thoughts kept coming. “One person would’ve struggled carrying a body, but two? That’s why the evidence is so minimal and without any scuffs on that body to get them up the stairs.”

“Good girl,” Toji praises, ruffling the crown of your head. “Now you’re seeing it like I knew you could.”

“Shit, so there’s two of these psychos running around?” Satoru hugs his own arms with a grimaced face.

“We still don’t know what the relationship of the two killers are just yet, but we should assume they’re all in on this.”

“Y/N! Toji!” Your boss bellows as he marches over, stomping along the way. “I hope you’re doing something instead of fucking around, why haven’t we caught the bastard yet?”

Fucking around? That’s exactly what we did last night.

It’s more fucked up that your boss expected a killer in handcuffs placed in front of his desk at the end of the day though.

“Sir, we’ve just made a breakthrough in the case,” you tell him excitingly.

“I don’t need breakthroughs, I need suspects! I need arrests! Something already to calm the public!” he shouts, uncaring to the commotion he’s causing.

“Sir-“

“No, I need to see some results, and fast. You too, Toji. I’m not letting you run around for fun. I’ll put those cuffs back on you myself if this keeps up.”

“Your agent’s got everything under control, so why don’t you go back to your cozy air-conditioned office and wait for good news.” He glares, ready to wage a war if need be for your sake, Ares help him.

“Don’t you talk back to me, I couldn’t care less about you rotting away in some cell,” he bites back, and you know Toji won’t take that lightly.

Before something irreversible happens, you take his wrist as tight as you can, dragging him back to your car. You plop down into the driver’s side with a thump, slamming the door in the process.

“Fuck!” you snap, hitting the steering wheel.

Toji on the other hand settles in without a hint of that earlier anger. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“I will be if I don’t get fired,” you sigh. “I can’t mess this up, Toji. I’m finally out in the field doing something interesting. If I mess this up I’ll be stuck in interrogation rooms until retirement.”

Toji’s hand settles on your shoulder and gives a reassuring squeeze.

“You’ll be fine, sweetheart. Just keep using that head of yours, the answers are already there, I promise you.”

How would you even know that?

You both go silent, staring forward while you think and tap the wheel a thousand times over with your index. Eventually, a lightbulb blinks above your head like a divine prophecy.

“If our killer has medical experience, then…” You dial a number on your phone, turning it to speaker. “Kento! Can you run a search for any former doctors or nurses in the area that could have any reason to resort to violence? Firings, complaints, accidents, anything.”

“Sure thing, give me just a moment… Alright, I’m sending you over some photos.”

“There!” You point one out to Toji. “Dr. Mafune, I only saw a glimpse, but I’m sure; he was at the bar yesterday when we were in the closet!”

Kento clears his throat, “Dr. Mafune was a surgeon at a small local hospital, but after an unrelated accident, the hospital was sued and shut down afterwards.”

“That’s as good a motive as any, and perfect experience for knowing how to remove hearts.”

“This is where it gets interesting. His daughter, Katsura, is the widow of the first victim we found. She worked in the building with her father while training to become a scrub nurse.”

It’s her! The chestnut-haired woman!

“Send me the address of the hospital, we’re going to go check it out. Thanks, Kento.” You throw your phone down, wasting no time in kicking the car alive and pulling out.

“Sweetheart, I’m all for indulging you, but are you sure about this?”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now?” You spare him a glance, flipping the emergency lights on. “I have to get them before they kill another. Katsura was at the bar and the love hotel, I know you saw both. She probably has another victim ─ and that hospital is bound to be their workshop if it’s abandoned!”

“You’re ballsy, I’ll give you that,” he chuckles, lowering his hand to grip your thigh. It’s possessive but fuck if you weren’t on the job, you’d have pulled the car over for a quickie.

“You should know that already from the first time you met me. Think mine are bigger than yours, tough guy?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t push it.” He rolls his eyes playful, squeezing your thigh tighter. “We both know the answer to that after I let you play with them.”

It’s a careless decision going in without backup and you know it. A part of you continuously is screaming “don’t do it!” but you’re too deep now.

Balls deep, you might say.

Ha.

Here at your side is the Invisible Man. The man who conquered the underworld, one perfect crime after another. How on Earth could anything possibly go wrong?

The parking lot to the building is empty, save for some scrapped vehicles polluting the area, but you know better than any that that doesn’t mean the killers aren’t just parked somewhere else. Even if they are, this must be the hideout. You’re positive.

You jump out the car, pulling out a bulletproof vest from the trunk and throwing it on. There is a spare that Suguru would use, but in no way would it fit Toji’s physique. Hopefully his muscles actually are bulletproof like the nemean lion.

“Slow down, sweetheart.” Toji grabs you and twirls you back to his chest. “Don’t go rushing in when you don’t know what’s inside.”

You pout, but he’s right. Running in now would be a dumb decision like no other that could result in your own untimely demise. Better to let the professional head inside first.

He gives you the signal, wordlessly calling you forward. It doesn’t look like much at first, just a regular old, abandoned hospital. Things are tossed around, broken with graffiti on the walls, but so far, it’s quiet. But is that really a good thing when there could be a life at stake?

The two of wander down a hallway together, and there you come across the operating rooms. The doors are busted down, but the inside is exactly what you were hoping to find.

The killers’ workstation.

No signs of life as far as you can tell, but the tools are all there and the walls stained with dried blood.

“Holy shit,” you murmur. “We found it, Toji! The Cupid Killers were here–“

POP. POP.

Toji’s body encases you in a heartbeat, shielding you from the gunfire. You hardly register what’s happening before Toji snags one of your guns straight out of your holster, aiming it at the woman in the doorway.

“I knew you’d come find me. You just couldn’t stay away ─ huh, big guy?” The woman’s sultry voice hits you like cheap perfume sprayed over rotting food.

Toji’s unresponsive, staring down Katsura through the iron sight of the gun. Another voice chimes in from behind her, and you recognize it straight away from the closet, “Katsura, don’t waste this moment.”

“Why are you doing all of this?” you ask from behind Toji. He has his free arm stretched out to keep you where you are, blocking you from the Cupid Killers.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m getting my revenge.” Her lips stretch into a sadistic smile. “My husband thought he could get away with it ─ keeping secrets for so long from me and all. When I was laid off, I came home from work early to find him in our bed with another woman. Can you believe it!”

“I had to do what any reasonable woman would.” She waves the gun around playfully, laughing maniacally. “I killed him, stuffed his dick down his throat where it belongs, and had daddy here steal his heart for me. It’s only fair since mine was stolen and then crushed.”

“Why the others then?” you hiss. “What did they do?”

“They’re all cheaters, every one of them. It’s insane how many men are so willing to throw away their relationships for a night with me. I had to punish them.”

Your plan at the bar worked perfectly then. Toji was geared up to be his next victim thinking you were a happy couple. Would he have fallen for her thirst trap? Or did he figure out she was the killer from that interactive alone? Probably the latter if you had the guess. That asshole (affectionate) reads people better than you ever hope to.

“I knew muscle man over here had to be special, I even tried to convince my dad to let you in on the fun too after you ran away from his love to cower in the bathroom.” At this point her cackles closely resemble that of a hyena, and they only laugh like that before they attack.

“You don’t know how excited I got hearing you two through the walls at the hotel after. I can’t wait to join your hearts together after I kill you both.”

“Katsura, we really should–“

“Why stage all the bodies? What part of your revenge did that serve?”

“Those locations all meant something to me once upon a time. The Ferris wheel we shared our first kiss, the park where he proposed to me, the home we shared. Every memory is being painted in blood to start the canvas anew!”

Toji looks over his shoulder at you, twirling his finger around his head as a not-so-subtle drag at her pure insanity.

“The only one dying here today are you both.”

“Catch me if you can then, honey!” She bolts right as Toji fires a round. Never knew Toji could miss a shot.

“Stay here for me, sweetheart,” he tells you, but before he can leave you grab him with everything you’ve got.

“Toji! Your arm!”

His white sleeve is stained in red, trickles of blood following his thick veins down his arms. The fabric is torn in the areas, no doubt from when he meat shielded you from harm.

“I’ll be fine, it’s just a scratch.” His smile reassures you but doesn’t fill the pit that’s formed from the haunting sight.

He got shot. For you. Like literally, jumped in front of you, and took not one, but two bullets for you.

All because you got cocky and carried away being side by side with the self-approved strongest man on the planet instead of calling for backup.

Toji plants a kiss on your forehead and in the sudden shock of it all, you let go, and he runs out the room.

Get it together! a voice shouts from within you. You’re the FBI agent here! This is your job!

“Fuck,” you mumble, shooting a backup request to Kento and charging out after Toji.

There’s no sign of him or the killers anywhere as you aimlessly go through the halls, peeking into every room along the way. You pass by a directory board along the way which you stop to scan.

Room 214: Dr. Mafune – Cardiology

“Bingo.”

Unaware to you, Toji had caught up to Katsura in another part of the hospital. Both stand opposite of each other on a bridge overlooking the lower floors of the building.

“You can always dump her for me, you know? I’ll treat you real good.”

“I already told you once.” He stalks closer to the girl with a growl. “You’re not my type.”

“That’s too bad, we would’ve made a good couple.”

She raises her gun, ready to claim her next victim but her speed is nothing compared to Toji. In one lightning-fast motion, her arm is snapped and the gun disarmed. Before she can even react to the pain, he’s coiled around her neck in a chokehold.

Toji brings her to her knees, taking the gun in his free hand and pressing the muzzle into her temple. “Don’t think we’ll be having any second dates after today; I’m already spoken for.”

POP.

You hesitate just outside the male cupid’s office upon hearing the gunfire, praying to everything you believe in that Toji’s okay. Inside the room, it’s empty of any people, but behind the desk are shelves containing 12 hearts floating in jars all their own.

“Holy shit.”

You lower your weapon, stepping past the threshold and into the room to get a closer look.

“Don’t move,” a voice hits you from behind.

Turning your head slowly, you see Dr. Mafune standing a few feet behind with a gun pointed at your head.

“What, no bow and arrow for the Cupid Killers?” you tease. “Put your weapon down and hands behind your head.”

“You’re not the one calling the shots here.” You’re locked in a staring contest with the man, breaking the standstill as you draw your weapon. There’s a loud pop of fire followed by the telltale metallic smell coating the air.

The killer turns to run and you start after him only to be stopped by a blistering pain resonating from your shoulder.

“Shit, I’m hit.” Your jaw clenches as you fight through to pain to give chase. You’re so close, fight it!

Dr. Mafune doesn’t get far before you catch up. “Freeze! I will shoot you!”

He stops, slowly turning to face you.

“My wife left me with my dear Katsura for another man. When my baby came to me after killing her husband in a blind rage, I helped her like any father would.” He looks down the line of the barrel into your eyes, behind his clear-coated eyes, you find a whole lot of pain and zero regret. “I made it look like it was an accident, but then she wanted to go further, make others pay for their crimes. Of course I had to help. I love Katsura with all my heart.”

“Why tell me all this now?” Your breathing is turning erratic with every passing second. There’s a feeling of coldness spreading outwards from your shoulder that’s becoming harder to ignore as well.

“You won’t be making it out of here alive.”

It was then that time felt like it slowed down, almost to a complete stop. You could see Dr. Mafune raising his gun, but the trigger of your gun weighed more than the world on Atlas’ shoulder.

This is it. This is the boundary where you decide if you’re capable of ending another’s life. The only sound you hear is that of your heart beating a mile a minute. All until the crashing wave that is Toji slams into your body as a copper bullet comes flying at you.

Time resumes in an instant, and all the noise in the room returns.

“You trying to get yourself killed, sweetheart? Never hesitate or you will lose.”

Toji rushes the doctor, shooting out one of his kneecaps to stop any means of easy escape. One large fist comes down the force of titans, shattering bones in the killer’s skull. Blood spatters across Toji’s face all while he grins like the madman that he is, enjoying every second.

Using his foot, he crushes the hand carrying the gun, listening to the agonizing groan like it’s music to his ears. The glasses he had on were long since shattered, slipping off onto the pool of blood on the ground. Toji’s fingers coil around the hairs of the doctor, dragging his body through the puddle until he’s placed right in front of you.

“Time to lose your other v-card, sweetheart.” His face lights up with amusement ─ funny given the situation at hand.

“I…” you shudder, looking between the bloodthirsty assassin and the serial killer. You can barely feel the tips of your fingers as you raise the gun, feeling it tremble in your weak hands. The gun unceremoniously falls into your lap. “I can’t.”

“That’s too bad,” Toji sighs, swiping his tongue across his bottom lip. “Guess the fun’s all mine then.”

It was then that you spot a reflective glint from the sleeve of the doctor ─ a glass syringe. It drops into the killer’s good hand and turns to aim right at Toji. Every ounce of muscle in your body screams as you raise your gun back up, finger on the trigger.

You decide then and there that Toji is someone worth saving. If it means being responsible for taking the life of another, then so be it. You can’t let Toji die. The weight of the world is gone and the trigger’s weight turned light as a feather.

POP. POP. POP.

Toji’s eyes widen at the scene, releasing his grasp on his man and watching the staggering amount of blood pool around his feet. The broken syringe is all he needed to see for it to click.

“Nice shot,” he whistles. “I should kiss you for that…sweetheart?”

You can’t bring yourself to speak and your vision is tunneling to black. Toji’s kneeling in front of you shouting, but you can’t hear a single word. It took him all too long to notice the blood coming from your shoulder and he curses himself for letting the bloodlust distract him from your pain.

Your body is pulled flush against his chest, one hand tucked around your back and the other applying pressure to the wound.

He’s so warm.

Shit… is this what dying feels like?

This sucks, but hey ─ I lived pretty a good life, I guess.

Even got the chance to fall in love…

. . .

I wish I could still see him; I’m gonna miss that sweet face.

I’ll miss you, Toji…

Thanks for showing me true love.

. . .

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Shh, she’s waking up!”

“Satoru, give her some room to breathe!”

“Both of you need to give her some space.”

Light starts to peek in through your eyelids as the world returns to you. Suguru and Satoru are right there in front of you, Shoko prying the latter back a few steps from you. Kento’s there too, standing by the door with a calm but underlying concerned expression.

“…Guys?”

“How are you feeling?” Shoko asks, looking over your body in full doctor mode.

“Like I was hit by a freight train,” you laugh, recoiling from the pain. “What happened?”

Kento speaks up first, “You were shot, as I’m sure you knew. Thankfully it missed anything vital, but you passed out from the blood loss.”

“Toji?” You shoot up all too fast, but Shoko pushes you (gently) back down. “Where is he? Is he okay!?”

“See for yourself, sweetheart.” The familiar voice fills the room and you swear the heartrate monitor skips a dozen few beats.

“We’ll leave you two to chat.”

“Aww come on, Shoko! I want to stay here!”

“Satoru~ let them have their moment.” Suguru grabs his arm, dragging him out practically kicking and screaming while the other two calmly trail behind.

Toji comes to your side, sitting at the edge of the bed, taking your hand in his. Maybe it’s the morphine high, but he feels even warmer than before.

“You did good out there, sweetheart. Scared the shit out of me though, almost thought you’d die on me.”

“I told you not to underestimate me,” you rasp, flashing him a gentle smile. He brushes his thumb back and forth lovingly, and all the pain you felt disappears. “…Hey, Toji?”

“What’s up?”

“If you’re okay with it, then I’d like to take care of Megumi.” You briefly pause, observing the curious glance he gives you. “He’s going to need someone there while you’re in prison after all; I’d like to be there for him and make sure he lives a good life.”

“You’re a sweet girl, Y/N.” He snorts out of amusement but quickly follows up with a grin that sends warmth straight through your body better than any IV medicine could.

The road to recovery hasn’t been easy, but you’re happy the case of the Cupid Killers is finally put to rest. Your boss is equally happy, despite your headstrong attitude that resulted in you getting shot. That’s an issue for another day.

You haven’t heard much in regards to Toji’s case moving forward, but you’ve gotten to meet Megumi and see how lovely of a boy he is. A sweet young two-year-old with the temperament of an angel. The spitting image of his dad, minus the spiky head of hair.

Today’s your first day back at work, and you couldn’t be more excited despite the tinge of fear from already getting called into your boss’ office. You cautiously enter, sitting down in front of his desk.

“Suguru’s officially going into retirement soon ─ I think he’s jumping the gun ─ but he insists he wants to be there 24/7 for his newly adopted twins to settle in.” He leans forward and presses a call button on his phone, “My office, now.”

“Sir?”

“You’re going to need a new partner from now on. I expect you two to get along and help clear up the backlog of cases we’ve got.”

The door clicks open and you spin in your seat. Whiplash hitting in the form of déjà vu as Toji Fushiguro himself walks in, devoid of any handcuffs or guards. He wolfishly grins at the sight of your bewildered state, taking a seat neat to you exactly how he did the last time you both were in this room together.

“Higher ups made yet another deal. Toji will be working with us now as your very own partner.” Your boss slides a gun and badge across the table which Toji happily accepts. “He’s not out of the clear, so think of this like a special parole. I expect good things from you both.”

“Yes, Sir,” you both respond, this time without any sarcasm or mock salutes. Toji follows you closely back to your new desk of operations, sitting himself down over the oak wood top.

“So, partner,” He lowers his head and at the same, cups your chin turning you upwards to meet his lips with a sliver of space between. “Still wanna raise my kid with me? Let’s make it official, sweetheart.”

☆ Notes: did i go a bit overboard with the greek mythology references? maybe, but in my defense they were all last minute additions for some extra details which btw, jesus christ i went fucking ham for this. the word count baffles even me.

took so fucking long to get this out though. you ever find a fanfic that is so goddamn good and beautifully written that it makes you want to delete everything you've ever done because you feel like you'll never compare? yeah well i found that while writing this. that and i've had migraines every day for like a solid week now, i hate it here.

ANYWAYS, this was a prompt inspired by tojisfanatic based on this artwork

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rbbrbikerthorp · 4 months

Text

Meeting Mick

In the centre of London, a 22-year-old junior office clerk named Gareth found himself trawling through his email inbox once again. For such a young lad, he was already fatigued with the tediousness of routine.

He had been conventional all his life, descending from a lineage of monotony. His father was an accountant who was coming up to retirement - a greyish man who wore greyish suits, his grandfather had been an accountant and he was pretty sure his great grandfather had also been in the profession. “It’s in our DNA, numbers run in our blood,” the words of his dad would echo around his head.

As a teenager, Gareth tried to rebel, well he put a bit of effort in to trying to rebel. First of all he let his hair grow, then he got a number 2 at the barbers. He bought a pair of DMs with some of his savings but never wore them for fear of what his mother and father might say. Once he came home ten minutes late for dinner, which was enough for his father to take him on one side and lecture him on the importance of timekeeping.

Anyway, let's get back to the present. Gareth got home early evening after another dull day in the office. He prepared a nice healthy meal of grilled salmon and steamed vegetables. After washing up, he decided to check his social media feeds, not that he was a prolific user of social networks, but at least they were a doorway to 'other worlds' that offered some escape.

As he was scrolling through Tumblr one profile in particular caught his attention. The profile belonged to someone calling himself 'Mick', an older man who proudly identified as a Skinhead Boss.

Gareth just stared at the profile picture; he studied it from top to bottom; his overarching thought was that this was an older guy who didn't give a f**k. He lost himself staring at the shiny black boots, which contrasted with the white laces and the arms covered in tattoos. Gareth then clicked on the profile and immediately pressed the 'follow' button.

He scrolled through Mick's blog and found himself getting more and more aroused at the pictures, which included from videos of lads getting their heads shaved, pictures of skinheads in full skinhead gear, groups of skinheads drinking and even photos of skins getting pierced and tattooed. The posts included many skinhead transformation stories as well as a few articles about skinhead culture, which Gareth read with interest.

Gareth really wanted to message Mick, and he pointed the cursor but kept hesitating because, to be honest, he felt a bit stupid. The voices in his head told him not to bother, Mick is a hard, tattooed skinhead and why would he want to chat with someone as boring and vanilla as you, Gareth?

After deliberating for many minutes whilst continuing to look over Mick's blog, he managed to silence the voices momentarily finding the resolve to send a message. He clicked on the icon and noticed the green dot, so Mick was probably online. After a lot of thought he decided to keep the first message short, "hey there, love the blog, love the gear," and pressed the send icon. No, he thought in a moment of regret and as the voices reasserted themselves, why did I type that? After a few minutes, and much to Gareth's surprise, the number 1 appeared on the messages side-menu. Expecting a "get lost" or "Eff off back to your boring, mundane life," he clicked to see what the reply was.

“Oi oi m8 thx. I didn’t think I’d be your type. Just seen your profile pic you look like just a conventional clean-cut lad." Reading this, Gareth was rock hard. He’d never spoken to a skinhead before and the thought of chatting with one was already driving him crazy. He thought very carefully about what to type next. “Ha ha, well yes, but skinheads - they're something else,” and he pressed send. Mick replied straight away “Thanks. I know you’d look good with your head shaved, wearing a nice tight pair of bleachers and all booted up lad.”

Gareth had often wondered what his life would be like if he had taken a different path maybe as a tradesman or a workie, even a punk or skinhead but it would never work, plus what would his parents and friends say. He quickly typed a reply, “Ah, I’d love to but I don’t think I could - I’d be a terrible skinhead,” and clicked on the send icon.

Gareth was starting to feel stupid again for initiating the conversation with Mick - but before he cold wallow in his foolishness he received another message, which had a much firmer tone to it “Listen lad, you WILL make a perfect skinhead. I CAN make it happen m8. I'll be in the White Hart pub on Grange Road at tonight 8 - be on time. If not, we won't chat again. It's a one time offer."

Having read the message, Gareth noticed the green light disappear - Mick must have signed out.

Gareth didn’t know what to do. This skinhead he’d spoken to for all of five minutes was willing to take him 'under his wing' and make all his dreams come true. Was this a set-up? Was it all one big joke? Was he being foolish turning up in a pub some stranger had mentioned

In that moment Gareth was 'paralysed' Should he carry on as Mr Conventional or take this opportunity to escape the monotony and drudgery of routine? Well there was only one way to find out.

After nearly an hour of procrastination he decided it was worth the risk and he would go and meet Mick. After all nothing was going to happen in pub full of customers? With a mix of excitement and apprehension, Gareth put on a pair of jeans, a plan blue t-shirt and a his coat. He opened Google Maps and searched for The White Hart and followed the directions.

After a twenty minute bus ride and ten minute walk he arrived at The White Hart. He paused for a moment. This looked like any other pub he'd seen in the city. Was he really going to enter a pub frequented by skinheads? Was he about to meet the man he'd been messaging on Tumblr? He was about to discover that this pub, adorned with memorabilia reflecting the skinhead subculture, would become the backdrop for his transformation.

He walked through the double doors and entered the tap room. He was immediately met by the sight of three skinheads standing at the bar. He checked them out; they all had shaved heads, some dressed in green or black bomber jackets, some just in t-shirts or Fred Perry polos and wearing skinhead boots; some black some red/brown.

Standing for a moment, just inside the doors (close enough to make a quick retreat should it be necessary), he took in the atmosphere. He looked around the room, trying not to catch anyone's attention. However, a few of the skins had noticed the new lad enter. Gareth was aware of several faces looking in his director, some seeming to sneer at him in contempt. He imagined they were thinking "what are you doing in our place?" After all he was a normal looking, average 22 year old in the middle of a pub occupied by tattooed, pierced, and booted skinheads.

Gareth got a sense that tension was building, but at the same time he was very aroused. He'd never been so close to one skinhead, let alone a pub full of pretty hot looking skins. He glanced at his watch - it was almost 8 o'clock - so finding Mick was his priority.

Gareth was feeling intimidated by the many eyes focussed on him. Believing Mick would be somewhere in the pub meant he was able to dig deep and find the courage not to run out through the door through which he entered. As he walked around, he noticed a skinhead standing at the bar smoking a cigarette. He always thought that smoking was banned indoors - and that included pubs - but this skinhead didn't seem to care. "You look out of place my lad - don't think you want to be in here!" he said taking the cig out of his mouth.

"Well, erm, I, I'm supposed to be meeting someone here." Gareth stuttered a reply taking in the sight in front of him.

"Oh, is that so?" The skinhead started to smile. "And who is this person you're supposed to be meeting or do you just like being in a room filled with skinheads?"

Gareth was getting even more aroused. "No, erm Mick," he initially replied meekly, then getting his confidence back, "he's called Mick".

Suddenly Gareth heard a booming voice to his right, which he knew was aimed at him. “Boy, I've been waiting."

Gareth headed over to where the voice originated, very aware that the skinhead he'd just been talking to was still staring at him as he walked away.

"Good job you turned up lad." Gareth was mesmerised at seeing Mick in person - as if in a trance, he walked towards the man that would permanently change his life. With each step forward, he took in Mick's weathered face, shaved head, tattooed arms and, holding a metal baseball bat in his left hand. "Boy, I thought you might chicken out." Finally standing next to Mick, he laughed nervously; he actually was scared-stiff but at the same time he was so turned on by this older skinhead. “You wanna be a proper skinhead - just like ALL the lads around you, don’t you?"

Gareth turned around and looked around the pub - no one was staring at him now. Everywhere he turned he saw skinheads laughing, chatting, getting the beers in and even playing pool - it was the camaraderie that caught his attention.

All his life he'd been a 'lost sheep'; he'd been desperate for the kind of kinship he was witnessing. Yes this is what he wanted, and he would do whatever it takes to be accepted. He turned back to Mick, and more certain than he'd been about anything in his life, "Yes, YES, I want to be a skinhead."

"Good lad," Mick cracked a smile for the first time since they'd met in person. "I can make it come true boy. First, I should warn you that once you say yes, there’s no going back. So, you're absolutely sure about this?”

Gareth had never been more certain in his life, oh and had never felt like this before (not to mention the forming bulge that was hard to miss). “Yes, I really want this”.

Mick was relieved, he made it a mission to bring new lads into the skinhead world “good choice, I’ll make a proper skinhead out of you boy. When I'm done with you, you'll be a proud skinhead, following the skinhead code.” Gareth nearly erupted in his trousers, he couldn’t believe this was happening. Right seat yourself down, I'll get the beers in an we'll talk about your skinhead transformation.

In a matter of minutes, Mick returned accompanied by two other skinheads who sat down alongside Gareth. "This is Charlie and this is his boi Chris. Chris once had a boring life - he was a going to be a lawyer but he hated his life. He met first Charlie on Grindr and now they're inseparable; Chris now works for the council in the cleansing department. Lads, this is Gareth," he said, nodding in Gareth's direction."

Gareth nervously picked up his glass that had been put in front of him and took a big gulp of the beer. One gulp turned into two, three, four and in no time, he'd almost finished his pint. In doing so he'd plucked up the courage to initiate a conversation about what life would be like as a skinhead.

Mick was about to start waxing lyrical about his life when Charlie jumped in, having just finished his pint, "tell the lad how long you've been a skinhead Mick," turning to Gareth, "Mick also knows what it means to be a skin and how we watch out for one another. C'mon Chris let's get the next round in."

As they chatted over three more pints Mick regaled his life experiences and the subculture he had embraced since he started secondary school. He shared stories of camaraderie, rebellion, and talked affectionately about the unique sense of identity that exists within the skinhead community. Despite the age gap, a connection had formed between the two. Mick decided it was time to begin Gareth's transformation. "Right lad, follow me."

Mick put on what Gareth would learn is his black Harrington, he picked up his baseball bat and headed through a set of double doors. Gareth followed a few paces behind Mick heading down a short dimly lit corridor.

They walked through the door and entered a room with black and white tiles on the floor, three sides of the room had walls covered in pictures of skinheads, the other wall was simply a floor to ceiling mirror. In the middle of the room was a barber's chair.

"Right lad, take your top off"

Without a second thought Gareth complied. "Get in the chair." It was an order, not a request, which had to be obeyed. Gareth was about to take the first step and most symbolic stage his transformation to a skinhead.

Sitting in the old barber's chair, Gaz could only watch as Mick walked over to the shelf and picked up a set of clippers. Mick removed the guard that was covering the cutting end and turned to Gareth, ""this is it lad; in a few minutes Gareth will be gone. I'm going to transform you into Gaz - my Skinhead boi."

With that Mick pressed the on button on the side of the clippers; immediately he heard the familiar 'clack' sound echo around the room. Mick pressed the clippers into the nape and worked his way up the lad's head. With a deliberate slowness, Gareth's hair was stripped away. With each stroke, inches of hair fell on his chest and on the floor around the chair until it was all gone.

Gareth was more turned on than he'd been; at any time in his life. Nothing he'd done in his 22 years to date had resulted in the mild sweating, butterflies and raised heart-rate that he was experiencing as he stared into the mirror watching this tattooed thug denuding his head.

Mick could tell Gaz was enjoying the experience as he heard a little pleasure moan escape from his mouth. He ran the clippers over Gaz's head at least three times, ensuring there was only stubble left. Mick noticed Gaz staring in the mirror - it wasn't all he noticed. "Like what you see boi?"

Gareth simply nodded - his brain simply couldn't process the combination of his feelings and the sight of his shaved head in the mirror. He was about to touch his head when Mick interrupted, "No you don't boi. I'll tell you when you can touch your head."

Mick then walked over to the sink and turned on the hot tap. When the water was steaming hot, he grabbed a towel and wet it thoroughly. He squeezed the towel removing the excess water and placed the very towel on Gaz's head; leaving it for a few minutes.

This gave him time to grab a can of shaving foam. He completely covered his boi's head in foam. He grabbed a new Mach III razor and started the next stage of the transformation. It took a few minutes to shave away the stubble from his boi's head and make him as smooth and shiny as a baby.

Gaz sat there frozen in disbelief as each stroke of the razor revealed another patch of scalp completely void of hair. As Mick finished up, he produced a handheld mirror to show the back and sides: “what do you think boi?”

Gaz didn’t recognise the person staring back at him - he was starting to look like a dumb thug who’d grown up on a council estate and spent years getting in trouble with the law. Not some twenty-something who had grown up the perfect, but very boring, nuclear family. “Yeah, this is perfect, just how I wanted to look”.

"It's only the beginning of your transformation lad. Now we need to get you dressed. Stay there." Mick ordered and walked over to a cupboard ar the back of the room.

Gaz didn't want to move. He was transfixed by the skinhead he saw in the mirror - so much so that he didn't hear Mick calling to him.

"Get over here boi!"

Gaz came back to reality and jumped out of the chair. He walked over to where Mick was standing. It was a cupboard full of boots, jeans with bleach splashes, t-shirts, polo shirts and bomber jackets.

For the second time in as many hours, Gaz was enthralled by the content in the cupboard - as he stared at the many pairs boots on the shelf he was almost drooling. "Right lad," Mick said jerking Gaz out of his boot gazing, "we can get you started with what's in here. You'll need to get more in time but that can wait till you start yer new job."

With that Mick began to outfit his boi in classic skinhead attire. He started by handing Gaz a t-shirt wich the boy slipped over his head, then came a pair of very tight fitting jeans with bleach splashes - bleachers as they are generally known. As he put them on he could sense blood rushing towards his groin area. Seeing this Mick smiled; Gaz smiled back sensing he was blushing. As he finished buttoning his bleachers, he saw the jeans had been cut off just below the knee - he would soon find out why. Next, Gaz was handed a pair of white(ish) football socks. "Get them on your feet."

As Gaz was putting his socks, he looked up when another skinhead entered the room. He was a bit younger than Mick but older than Gaz; his arms covered in tattoos and a huge ring in his nose and both ears pierced, "is he ready Mick?"

"Not quite Al, he's got his boots to put on an lace properly." He turned to Gaz, "for now you need to pull your socks over your knees." When Gaz had done as instructed, Mick put a pair of black 20 hole boots with white laces in front of him. He sat down and began talking him through tightly ladder-lacing his boots, first the right foot then the left.

In no time at all Gaz had ladder-laced his boots.

"Stand up lad - look in the mirror!" Mick instructed, "how does that feel?" He didn't need to ask - the lump in the boi's bleachers was there for all to see.

"i...," Gaz was stuck for words. After a few moments he spurted, "I can't believe what I'm looking at," as Gaz found himself feeling a sense of belonging he had never experienced before.

Mick was pleased with the transformation so far. He offered Gaz a cigarette. “Sorry, I don’t smoke”. Mick threw Gaz against the wall “lesson one, you don’t get the choose what you do and don’t do anymore. Skinheads smoke and now you're a skinhead so that means you're a smoker too. I want you to smoke a pack a day boi”.

For the first time since he walked into the pub Gaz was intimidated - especially knowing there was another skinhead in the room watching. Gaz gingerly took the smoke from Mick and lit up. It tasted awful and he was trying his best not to cough after every inhale.

“You’ll get use to it boi. Give it a few weeks you won’t be able to get out of bed without sparking up” Mick laughed. This is Al by the way. He's a tattooist - he's going to make your transformation more permanent.

"Right Al, he's ready for the next stage."

Al smiled, "come slong me boi."

Gaz followed Mick and Al out of the room, and out of a side door in the pub. Even though he'd worn his Doc Martens on a number of occasions, walking in 20-hole boots felt so different. To start with the leather was new and the soles of were solid and heavy. Mick and Al were heading off and Gaz had trouble keeping up. Eventually the two older skinheads arrived at a tattoo studio, with Gaz arriving a few seconds later.

"Right here we are. It's time to finish the job. Al's gonna give you your ink and we'll get some metal into you too,"

"Yes boi," interjected Al, "in the chair, take your shirt off and we can get started."

Gaz took off his shirt and sat in the chair.

"I think you should light up boi," Mick instructed, holding out a pack of cigs. Gaz took one and lit up. Even though it was only his second cigarette, he was doing better at not coughing every time he inhale.

"Right Mick, so just as we talked about earlier?" Al asked.

"Yes, just the ones he can't hide - the ones on his knuckles, hands, neck for today, then over the next few visits he can get his sleeves done and then you can work on his back.

Gaz's heartbeat was rising rapidly as he was listening to what was about to happen. The transformation so-far was reversible, but the moment the tattooing started there would be no turning back. Then all of a sudden he felt a wave of calm as he realised he wasn't forcibly being transformed. His lifetime wish was become a reality and Mick and Al were facilitating his deep desires.

Al set up his equipment and began. As the needle buzzed, skinhead symbols etched themselves onto Gaz's skin – a commitment to a lifestyle that was rapidly becoming his own. The letters S-K-I-N and H-E-A-D were tattooed onto his knuckles. Next, a swallow was tattooed on the back of his left hand, followed by his right hand. Then Al began the more painful and time consuming work of tattooing a spiderweb onto the left side of Gaz's neck and a pair of red DMs on the right hand side. Both would be positioned too high for Gaz to cover them up - even if that's what he wanted to do - and he didn't, ever!

Piercings followed suit, adding a further edge to Gaz's appearance. His ears were adorned with small gold hoops, then his nipples were pierced - wincing at the pain as the needle went through the sensitive skin.

"One more for today boi and then we are done. If you thought your nipple piercings hurt, then you'll really feel it when we get your septum done."

Mick wasn't wrong. However, compared to the continuous, vibrating pain of being tattooed, Gaz would describe the septum piercing as a quick, sharp pain. In no time at all he had a 14 gauge septum piercing with a gold ring though it.

"Your nose is going to be tender to touch and will probably take a couple of week to heal." Al told Gaz. We'll look at changing to a slightly bigger ring as Mick wants in a couple of months, that's provided it has healed well."

Mick walked over to Gaz and grabbed him roughly. Mick pressed his body up against Gaz and kissed him lightly on the lips. Then he thrust his tongue harshly into Gaz's mouth. Gaz had never kissed a man before, in fact he hadn't kissed many girls before. So he just let Mick take charge. Gaz found he loved the smokey taste of Mick's mouth too - imagining that his would taste the same as he become a 20-a-day smoker.

In that single moment Gaz felt a sense of liberation that transcended his previous life. There would be no return for once ordinary office worker. Instead, with Mick's guidance, Gaz secured his first manual job. Being a workie on a building site was a fitting occupation for his newfound identity.

In the end, Gareth's (now Gaz's) transformation went beyond skin-deep. He found a sense of purpose and community that resonated with him on a profound level. Mick, the seasoned skinhead mentor, had unwittingly become Gaz's Alpha guiding the 22 year old through a journey of self-discovery that led him to embrace a life that, just weeks before, had been unimaginable.

#ranger boots #tattoos #bleachers #conversion #skinhead #smoking

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flowerandblood · 4 months

Text

The Gate of Salvation [1/3]

[ young pope • Aemond x catholic • female ]

[ warnings: sexual tension, angst, anxiety, manipulation, doubts related to faith, chauvinism ]

[ description: During the conclave, a new pope is elected, but to everyone's surprise, he does not intend to show himself to the crowds waiting for him. His ideas terrify the cardinals, and one of them convinces his niece, who is studying marketing, to talk to the new head of the Catholic Church in his presence. Main theme: sexual tension & holy touch. ]

A mini-series created as a thank you and celebration of my 2'500 followers. I initially plan that it will have about 3 chapters.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Aemond as a Pope Edit

Series Characters Moodboard

Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

What happened after the conclave took everyone by surprise and caused complete chaos in the Catholic Church; she was one of the people who watched the live coverage from St Peter's Square.

She prayed in spirit that her uncle and her mother's brother, Cardinal Reene, would not become Pope.

Admittedly, it was thanks to him that she was living in Rome, and without his financial support she would not have been able to study, however, her uncle was a person who did nothing selflessly.

He recalculated to himself that if his niece wanted to study marketing at University then he would help her, reminding her at times that he would count on her help in the future, to create a good, sympathetic image of him.

She had the feeling that listening to him she was even losing her faith, which, despite her many internal disputes and doubts, was strong in her. She returned to the bosom of the church of her own free will when she was in high school after years of not attending Mass; she discovered that she felt attached to this tradition, as well as to God himself, whose presence she subconsciously felt all around her.

She knew that her uncle would certainly try to bribe other cardinals and she guessed what his pontificate would be like, so she begged God in her prayers not to allow such a man to become head of the church in his name, and heavens, as always, heard her prayers.

When she saw the white smoke on the screen she let out a loud breath, closing the textbook she had just been reading – she heard shouts and applause of joy coming from the television; the bells rang out, the solemn moment when the new pope comes out onto the balcony to greet his faithful was about to begin.

This went on for an astonishingly long time and she wondered if something had happened or if the votes had been miscounted, however, she heard the cheers of the crowd again as the doors opened. What stepped out was not a procession, but an ordinary priest in a black cassock; she recognised in him the secretary of the late Pope, who was certainly not a cardinal.

He seemed tense and frightened; he approached the microphone and said only two sentences.

"We have a Pope. The Holy Father, who has taken the name Pius XIII, asks you all to pray for him." He said in a trembling, uncertain voice, all pale, and then disappeared back behind the door – voices of disbelief and disappointment spread throughout the square, the gathered people, like her, were shocked.

However, all the internet portals published the name of the cardinal who had been elected; it turned out that the new pope was Cardinal Targaryen, a very little-known, withdrawn and shockingly young priest.

He was only two years older than her.

Journalists despaired that there were no official or unofficial photos of him, no statements from him, as if he had lived for years locked away in some monastery and never stepped into the light of day.

The world was confused and anxious – the young pope had not stepped out onto the balcony of St Peter's Basilica even once despite the crowds gathered in the square below chanting his name day and night.

She wondered if, in this way, he wanted to focus the world's attention even more on himself by standing in the absolute centre of it, and thought that if so, it was not a good beginning to his pontificate.

Two days later, her uncle paid her an unannounced visit at the flat he was renting to her, dressed so that no one would recognise him, just like the other cardinals still hounded by journalists and paparazzi.

"I need your help. The matter is very delicate." He said quickly, handing her his coat, which she hung on one of the hangers, looking at him over her shoulder in surprise.

"Me?" She asked with her eyes wide open, wondering what was going on there that required the help of someone from outside the Vatican.

"Pius XIII is a cripple. He lost his left eye as a child. He insists that if he is to show himself to a crowd, it should only be with his artificial eye, but not an ordinary one, one that resembles the real one, but a completely white one. He thinks this suits his attire and position better, but we think it will create additional confusion about him. Additionally, he wants to keep the Pope's public appearances to a complete minimum. He has fired all the Vatican marketing people with years of experience. This is some madness. Can I have a coffee?" He finally asked after his verbosity, sitting down in a chair at the living room table, placing his black wide-brimmed hat on the tabletop, sighing heavily.

She nodded, snapped out of her reverie and the shock of his words, pulling a mug and black coffee from her cupboard. Her uncle drank coffee made from three heaped teaspoons without milk, and although she didn't know how he could swallow something so disgusting and not have a heart attack in the process, she made it the way he liked it.

She swallowed loudly, pouring water into the kettle, putting it on the burner and turning the fire on under it, analysing everything he had told her.

"It sounds like he has a very low and a very high opinion of himself at the same time. How could I help here, uncle? I'm just a student." She said in dismay, shrugging her shoulders; her uncle nodded his head as if convinced that this would be her answer.

"You are young, you have a fresh outlook. He doesn't want to listen to us old people, he thinks we're out of step with the world and what it needs, whatever that means." He said with a sneer, looking out of the window, spreading himself comfortably in his chair with a creak of wood.

"I'd like you to try to talk to him, to understand what he means, what his vision is. Guide him to the idea that young people too want peace and predictability, not perpetual rebellion. I told him I could introduce you, that you are very talented and he agreed." He said finally and scratched the back of his neck – she heard the kettle whistle and turned off the fire under it, feeling that she had simply run out of words.

"− what? − I − oh God, uncle, I don't know − what if I make things worse and you lose in his eyes because of me? −" She muttered, feeling adrenaline start to bubble throughout her body; she poured hot water over the coffee in her mug, grabbed it and set it in front of him, then started walking back and forth across the room, panicking in some kind of way.

"This would just be a consultation − two young people want to change the image of the church to, let's say, a more welcoming one − this could be your big chance." He said, lifting the mug to his lips, taking a sip from it and murmuring contentedly, apparently finding that his coffee was exactly the way he liked it.

He persuaded her for so long that she finally agreed, but she regretted it as soon as he walked out.

She was inexperienced in discussions with this world, with such people, and was afraid she would make a mistake, do something against protocol and embarrass herself.

Her uncle sent her a message on the day of the meeting saying that she must dress modestly, preferably in white or black her dress must end at least past her knees, her toes must not stick out of her shoes, her shoulders must be covered. Sharp, defiant make-up was not acceptable.

She was to address the Pope as Holy Father or Your Holiness, keep the proper distance, not sit with her legs crossed, not put her elbows on the armrests, not lean or crouch in front of him, approach him only if he wanted her to kiss his ring.

The amount of information she received overwhelmed her; she took a quick look in her wardrobe and found that her simple black dress with white embroidered collar and cuffs was the perfect length – it had no cleavage, it looked elegant, innocent and girly at the same time.

She decided to wear flesh-coloured tights with it and sleek black shoes, which she had previously polished. She styled her long dark hair in a braid around her head, keeping it in place with pins, short, unruly strands on the sides of her face.

She used only mattifying powder and mascara as her make-up, deciding that this was enough, around her neck a necklace with a small gold cross that she had been given once by her grandfather.

At the appointed hour, a black car pulled up in front of her townhouse; she got into the back seat and greeted the driver, who, however, did not answer her, driving off without a word.

After several minutes they were already in the Vatican itself; she looked through the car window at the crowds of people spilling out of St Peter's Square, saw a group of men and women holding cardboard sheets in their hands with the handwritten words:

Our Pope does not love us.

She lowered her gaze, silently contemplating all that was happening, and shuddered as they stopped in front of the gate – a Swiss Guard officer dressed in colourful historical attire with red, yellow and navy blue stripes stopped their car.

Her driver showed him his ID and the man nodded – the gate opened and they drove inside into a small courtyard that she saw for the first time in her life.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the figure of her uncle waiting for her in his full, opulent cardinal's robe, a cross on his chest of pure gold, adorned with rubies and diamonds.

He greeted her with a broad smile and joy, with a gesture of his hand inviting her inside – they ascended the baroque staircase to the corridor, the view of the interior of the entire complex took her breath away.

She was surrounded on all sides by paintings and sculptures by the great Italian masters of the Renaissance, Baroque and Classicism; she felt a solemn mood, though she did not know why, as if she had in fact entered the truest home of God himself on earth.

The guards as well as other men passing her looked at her intently – she thought with horror and shame that women, with the exception of nuns, were a rare visitor to this sanctuary and aroused curiosity mixed with distrust.

Here, what Eve did in paradise according to the Bible, because of whom sin possessed man, was never forgotten.

They climbed the stairs to the upper floor and then stood in front of a large white door, high up to the ceiling, with two men in the same colourful garments standing in front of them. Her uncle sighed heavily, as if stressed himself, and looked at her comfortingly.

"I'll do the talking, you keep quiet for now." He said lightly, surprising her completely – she had no time to reply as he nodded and one of the guards opened the door for him.

Her uncle moved ahead, so she moved behind him, entering a spacious, bright room with six windows overlooking St Peter's Square – to their right stood bookcases filled to the brim with books, and to their left a huge wooden desk.

Only after a moment did she notice someone standing by one of the windows; his back turned to them, looking out at the crowds knowing they couldn't see him, a white cassock on his body, his short hair looking elegant and carefully styled, pulled back, almost white, glistening in the sunlight.

"Holy Father. As promised, I bring before you my niece, who I hope will allow us to come to an agreement." He said in a light, cheerful tone, as if addressing a friend, but they were answered by an uncomfortable silence.

She swallowed loudly when he finally turned to face them, her heart stopped for a moment when she saw how sharply shaped his face was – his cheeks and jaw were clearly outlined as if someone had carved them with a chisel, his mouth full, a pale scar running across the left side of his forehead to his cheek, his artificial eye completely white.

She felt that she was looking at him with her lips slightly parted and some sort of concern, so she lowered her gaze, reminding herself that she shouldn't do that.

"Hm." She heard him hum under his breath, as if he was thinking hard about something.

"Leave us alone, Cardinal." He said finally, turning his face towards the window again – she and her uncle looked at each other horrified, for this was not their plan.

She was only going to be an accessory, he was going to be the one doing all the talking.

"Your Holiness, I…"

"Get out."

Her uncle pressed his lips together and grunted, bowed his head and left, not even bestowing a glance on her despite the despair written on her face, leaving her to her fate.

She swallowed loudly as the door closed behind him and intertwined her hands in front of her, not knowing what to do, where to look, a cold sweat on her back.

"Do not be afraid, child. I know your uncle's nature. If I didn't let him bring you here he wouldn't let me alone." He began reluctantly, as if the very fact that he had to talk to her made him very tired; he moved with his hands entwined behind him ahead, walking along the windows, his profile illuminated by the sun.

She lowered her gaze, feeling a wave of shame surge through her, understanding that he knew perfectly well what her uncle wanted.

That it wasn't just about his image, but that he, as a cardinal, wanted his favour and the high position, money and comfort he could give him.

"What do you think of my decision not to show myself in public?" He asked finally; she raised her eyes at him, surprised, horrified that she had to answer. She swallowed loudly and licked her lips, dry of stress, thinking intensely about what she should say.

"Go on. You're supposed to know it, after all, it's an image issue." He growled and looked at her with an anger that sent a shiver through her; she stared at him in disbelief and fear trying to decide what kind of man he was.

She wasn't sure this was how a pope should behave.

"Driving here I saw people holding cardboard sheets saying: Our Pope does not love us. I felt sadness at the thought that many people feel rejected by your decision, Holy Father." She said at last, feeling that involuntarily her voice trembled and broke; she saw him tighten his lips, his nostrils moved nervously in accelerated breathing.

"Is love a perpetual vying for attention, standing in the centre? Is love only the deeds that can be shown, that anyone can see and name?" He asked frustrated, and she felt a squeeze in her throat, her lower lip quivered. She shook her head.

"People are afraid of what they do not know. You don't let them meet you, Holy Father." She whispered, and he snorted, turning back, going the other way, as if thinking over her words.

"So you think I should speak? Go out on the balcony and give them what they want?" He asked dryly. She let the air quietly out of her lungs, feeling her body tense all over – she had the feeling that she had adopted a defensive posture, as if ready for him to hit her.

"No. But I think it is necessary to find a way in which they can see you, Holy Father. To feel that you are in their lives physically as well. They need a guide, not another invisible God." She said finally and fell silent, lowering her gaze, feeling that her last sentence might have been too far-fetched.

She noticed with horror that he stopped hearing what she had said.

"You think I'm doing this out of vanity?" He asked in disbelief. She lifted her gaze to him, for some reason feeling that she was on the verge of crying.

"I don't know, Holy Father. I do not know you, nor do any of your faithful. We are sheeps who do not know where to go and where is their shepherd. Do you think we are too sinful? That we don't deserve to see you?" She asked finally in a trembling voice, his healthy eye fixed on her.

Our Pope does not love us.

She shuddered, feeling the rapid pounding of her heart as he moved towards her with a slow, lazy step, not taking his eyes off her, towering over her. She didn't know what she saw in his gaze, proud and cool; she felt heat in her lower abdomen as the pleasant scent of his masculine perfume filled her nostrils.

She thought he had approached her far too closely.

She froze and swallowed loudly as he lifted his hand; she thought for a moment in horror and disbelief that he would touch her breasts, however, he grasped her golden cross in his hand and turned it between his fingers, looking at it thoughtfully.

Something about him she found disturbing, even though she was surrounded by whiteness and daylight it seemed to her that the room had gone dark.

"I am not a hypocrite. There is no greater sinner in this world than me. I am vain. I am proud. I am cold. I am eternally, eternally thirsty." He murmured softly and looked into her eyes, her lips slightly parted in disbelief.

She felt panic begin to overtake her body as her insides throbbed wonderfully hard at his ambiguous, unsettling words.

"Do you believe in God?" He asked, still playing with her necklace, however, he did so in such a way that once in a while his fingers rubbed against the material of her dress lying between her breasts, each time a wonderful shiver ran through her spine.

She was only able to breathe and look at him, nothing more.

There was something evil, menacing, lewd in the way he asked the question, in the way he acted and the way he looked at her and she knew it, she was horrified by how strongly her body reacted to it.

"Yes." She whispered, as if she was admitting something she was ashamed of, something that was her secret.

He hummed again under his breath, as if accepting her words – his hand let go of her necklace and returned to the other, placed behind his back.

"I'm hiring you. You will be my image specialist. I expect you here tomorrow at 8am. That's all. You may go." He said indifferently, turning away as if nothing had happened; she sighed quietly, terrified, and nodded with a rapidly pounding heart.

"Holy Father." She mumbled, then turned and walked out.

Her uncle ran after her asking her what they were talking about and what had happened – he made the sign of the cross with some kind of relief on his face when she told him in horror that he had hired her.

"What did you say to him about me? I'm only in my second year of university, I don't have the right experience yet." She muttered in a trembling voice; her uncle sighed, correcting his glasses on his nose with his pointing finger.

"He doesn't care about your experience." He said amused, and she looked at him in disbelief.

It suddenly dawned on her what her uncle had been planning all along, and what she had gotten herself into because of her foolishness and naivety.

There is no greater sinner in this world than me.

I am eternally, eternally thirsty.

She felt a squeeze in her throat, tears filling her eyes again as she moved forward, covering her mouth with her hand, distraught, humiliated.

Her uncle didn't want her to be his worker.

Her uncle wanted her to be his lover.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla

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mxauthor · 8 months

Text

Creativity

Summary: Y/n is a photographer and Spencer is a great model.

Word Count: 1,135

Warnings: fluff, kisses, probably false statistics, giggly spence at the end.

November 4th.

That was the deadline of when Y/n’s assignment was due.

That date was one week away and she had no idea what the hell she was going to do. The whole class was given three weeks to complete the assignment and Y/n was running out of time.

She’s an aspiring photographer.

Several of her works have been published in magazines and have won many contests. She even has a website dedicated to her photos as well as other young photographers wanting to pursue their passions.

However, most of her clients don’t want an amatrue to take any of their photos, hence the course. Even though her boyfriend, Spence, has rattled off statics about not needing classes to become a photographer; it still made her feel better: more official

But now, her photography course is requiring her to submit new artwork instead of some of her old pieces. The professor said he ‘wanted to put their learning to use and catch something they’ve never thought of before.’

Y/n hated it. She was hitting deadend after deadend. Everything she’s shot is within her comfort zone, not new.

With a loud groan Y/n threw her head back on the couch she was perched on. Spencer only rounded the end the moment she was looking up at their light tan ceiling.

“Still can’t find anything?” Spencer asked. His tone knowing the answer, but wanting to be caring still.

“Not a thing.” Y/n replied, enunciating every word in the sentence. Spencer looked at her with a sympathetic look. Knowing the frustration not being able to achieve something.

He thought about the requirements of the assignment, having told him once she first got it. Spence wanted to help, he really did, but it was the first time he’s drawn a blank.

“I have no clue what to do. All the photos I’ve taken are like the ones I’ve taken before.” Y/n raised her head and looked at her boyfriend of a year. “Nothing new, nothing that’s caught my eye.”

“You know statically, most photographers set up their master photos. All of them have been staged and made to look candid. A lot of the photographs that I’ve studied since you’ve started your classes I’ve noticed that a lot of the items seemed to be perfectly placed. Just like it was made to be a photoshoot of some sort. While a lot of your works are within the moment, scenery or candid of people.” Spencer rambled. Y/n watched him intently as he talked, never liking to cut him off once he started, “So I believe that your professor is asking you to do something of the sort, to make a piece that you have to stage. I would suggest using someone that you are comfortable with, which will trigger a higher dopamine output as well as a higher serotonin that allows cognitive flexibility and an increase in mood.”

Y/n looked at Spence. A sparkle within her eye that Spencer knew to be trouble.

“Comfortable, staged and someone I know.” Y/n summarized, Spencer nodded along enthusiastically, always touched when someone listened to him all the way through.

“Yep.”

“Well then, pretty boy, I just found my client.” Y/n said, her eyes sparking with, what Spence can only describe as creativity. And lust.

The nickname alone should’ve told him that he wasn’t going to like this idea nor was he going to be the most comfortable with it. However, when Y/n had jumped up from her seat and started to set up her equipment with a huge smile on her face, Spence couldn’t really say no.

Y/n had placed one of their kitchen chairs in the living room (after she moved everything out of the way). Claiming that it was perfect. Her lights and camera were setup to where he supposed was his place in all of this.

He watched with a little nervousness as he stood in a white button down and some black pants. He was demanded asked to change from his comfortable warm pajamas, into this more serious ‘photo worthy’ outfit.

“Okay now, I need you to sit in the chair and I’ll be right back.” Y/n commanded, her voice left no place to argue.

So Spencer sat down. Patting his legs while he waited for the final piece of this photoshoot.

About 2 minutes had gone by before Y/n walked out, red lipstick painted on her lips. As well as a tub in her hand. If he looked close enough, he could see kiss marks on her hands, some more faint and one very vibrant.

Spencer studied the way Y/n walked up to him. Almost like she was trying to seduce in a way. As she got closer, Spence could see a smirk playing on her lips.

“What are you-” Before the genius could actually ask his question, Y/n had kissed him.

His brain short circuited. His IQ is now at 60.

It took a second before he kissed back, before it could get more heated Y/n pulled back. She studied the lipstick print on her boyfriend, liking how well it was placed.

Spencer’s face had flushed, he stared at her surprised, trying to understand what’s happening.

Before he could ask Y/n started talking, “The assignment is to do something new. To try and incorporate all of the lessons we’ve learned up into now. As you’ve said all of my past works were either scenery or candid photos. Something that has just happened or there for anyone to see. What I’m doing here is different. This is a photoshoot, not candid. You are normally sophisticated and well cleaned, however at this moment your unshaven and floppy hair. As well as dressed in something more date-casual.”

Spencer tried computing everything that was said, only to realize what she meant. His flush grew a little as Y/n looked at him for a silent ask, him nodding his answer.

She started to unbutton the top four buttons of his shirt. Spence started to grow even redder as Y/n started to kiss all over his neck, face and chest.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, all this attention and kisses making him hot.

But one thing is that he couldn’t stop smiling. Neither of them could. Y/n’s kisses varied in shape and size, trying hard to control the smiles on her face. Spencer giggled and flushed until she stopped.

Y/n looked at the lipstick marks with a proud smile and a flush of her own. Giddy to take the pictures.

“Okay hold still.” Y/n commanded, trying to capture him flush and giddy.

Trying to catch her Spencer, the goof ball that’s in love with her, in a living memory.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #reader #xreader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #x fem reader #spencer reid x fem reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x fem reader #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds fic #x reader #mx works

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halfrican-heat · 8 months

Text

Upstanding Gentleman (Ony)

Onyankopon was raised in a strict Ghanian household. He was pretty strait-laced...until he met you, of course. Still, Ony has many tricks up his sleeve that never fail to surprise you.

A/N: Yes, I'm high. Hello. So, this is the second Ony post I've had lingering in the back of my mind. It's in head cannon format but I think this could be something. Enjoy!

Warning(s): Explicit Sexual Content; Depictions of smoking marijuana; Penetrative Sex (p in v), Oral Sex (M receiving), Sex in childhood home, Black reader in mind, N-Word used; AAVE/Dialogue with Dialect

Pairing: Sober!Onyankopon x Stoner!Reader

Inspired by: Lauryn Hill and my bf :)

Sober!Ony was raised by a single mother who kept him in line. No drugs, no alcohol and he definitely had a curfew.

Straight A student and graduated the top of his class in high school

Spent majority of his childhood playing video games and taking apart old computers his mother would bring home from her teaching job.

Played basketball and practiced frequently with his friends

Loved taking photos and drawing

Only smoked weed once when he was seventeen and felt guilty about it for a week before he told his mom. (She smacked his head but wasn't that mad)

Never had a thing for drinking. His mom let him have some wine during his graduation dinner. His uncle, later that evening, gave him some liquor. Ony wasn't a fan.

Sober!Ony who went to college in a different state-- hours away from his mother.

He chose to go to a school pretty far away from home to study photography. He loved his mom but he felt like he needed a firm separation from his home life and college life.

That's where he met you. This sweet little thing from a town he had never heard of. So cute...

...and yet you smelled like trouble. Ony's suspicions were confirmed when you offered him a blunt in your car one night. Y'all had been talking for a minute at that point but you never gave off stoner vibes.

Ony declined but didn't mind hanging out as long as you rolled the windows down.

Turns out, you were a huge stoner. Bongs, smoking pieces, a stash larger than some of the ones he had seen back home. You weren't a plug, not really, you just really loved weed. You were super smart, too. Ony had known people like you from back home-- motivated stoners who smoked frequently but it didn't impede them getting shit done. You were like that and Ony really liked that about you.

Ony wasn't sure how to proceed at first but...one thing was sure: You had a hold on Onyankopon that he just couldn't deny.

Sober!Ony who, four years into your relationship, isn't super sober anymore.

"Mama, let me get one of them fruity drinks out the fridge." "They got alcohol in 'em Ony," You call from the kitchen. "I ain't ask you all that. They taste alright-- I feel like a classy nigga drinking them." "Okay, Classy Nigga," You say, bringing him one. "Mister Classy Nigga to you," He says, with a wide grin. "Pinkies out, baby."

Sober!Ony who branched out after meeting you but didn't partake as frequently as you did.

"Let me get a hit, baby." "Nigga, you don't smoke!" Ony kisses his teeth, side-eyeing you. "Then do that shit where you kiss me and blow the smoke in my mouth." You laugh loudly, throwing your head back at his nerve. "Okay, baby," You say, sparking up. Afterwards "Shit, where my inhaler at?"

Sober!Ony who made a great impression on your parents. Perhaps too great.

Your dad loves him, speaking highly of him every time your boyfriend comes up in conversation. "That Ony is a fine, upstanding gentleman," Your dad alway says. Little does he know... "What's that, ma?" His voice is husky in your ear as he thrusts into you roughly. His hand is over your mouth as your childhood mattress squeaks under your weight. Ony has you bent over, his pace punishing as he fucks you from behind. Tears streak your face as you helplessly claw at your sheets "Better be quiet," Ony drawls. "Don't want your folks to hear us, right? Or they gonna know what a slut you are for this upstanding gentleman."

Sober!Ony who loves the way you give head while high.

After many extensive and deep discussions about consent, Ony finally lets you give him head. At first, he was chilling. But then... "Shit, baby! Fuck," He groans, his head falling back. "Slow down, ma." You got his cum on your cheek from the first time he came but you don't care. You don't let up, taking his length down your throat. You suck the entire way down, slurping as you pull back to swirl your tongue around his leaking tip. Your tongue runs along the vein underneath his shaft before taking him back in your mouth, hollowing you cheeks as you slurp him down. "Fuck," He hisses, throwing his arm over his face. You had that man's toes curling and all.

Sober!Ony who loves how sexy you are at any given time of any given day but especially loves when you're feeling yourself while off the za.

Now the skies could fall...not even if my boss should call... Your hips sway seductively to the music as you take a pull from the blunt, in your own world. Lauryn Hill blasts from the radio as your lights change colors in a slow fade. Ony stands at the door of your shared bedroom, watching you sing and dance. You turn slowly, finally noticing him. You wordlessly hold out a hand to him with your body still moving to the music. See I don't need the alcohol...your love make me feel 10 feet tall... He takes your hand, pulling your body close to his. His hands trail your body, finding your ass as the two of you grind on one another. Yeah, Ony is gonna take his time with you tonight.

Sober!Ony who loves you as much as you love him despite your differences.

"Papa, you seen my bong?" "Judie?" "No, the other one." "She in the kitchen cabinet, baby."

"Ma, you seen my screwdriver?" "The fuck you doing drinking those?" "Bae...the tool. My tool." "Oh, it's on the counter by the microwave." a moment later "Onyankopon, what the fuck did you do to my damn radio!"

Overall, Sober!Ony who has changed a lot since the two of you got together. As long as you don't give him any cause for concern, he's happy to let you do as you please (and partake when he feels like it). You level each other up in ways no one expected. You're his lady and Ony doesn't want any one else but you.

"C'mere, my lil pothead," He says, cuddling up to you in bed. "Shut up, nigga." "Watch your mouth. Now lemme rub my legs against yours..."

A/N: I had fun with this. Asks are open!

#Onyankopon x reader #Onyankopon x black!reader #aot x black reader #aot onyankopon #onyankopon smut #Onyankopon fic #reader insert #black!reader insert #fan fiction for black women #black reader #Lyv Writes #My Writing #Ony's Observatory #Lyv's Library #Sober!Ony

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koolades-world · 30 days

Text

One bed troupe w/ Levi

It was safe to day Levi almost never got out of the house. Between online school and all the the time he spent on the internet, he had no need to leave his room. Key word: almost. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, he went out into the real world for events related to the things he enjoys, such as concerts, fan meetups, and most importantly, conventions.

Levi had been going to conventions longer than you even knew they existed, so it was safe to say he was an expert. But, now that you were around, and also interested in most of the same things as he was, he just had to take you along. That meaning, he nervously asked you on his knees the first time and after you agreed, he never asked again and just assumed you were going. Every convention with him is interesting, but always followed a formula.

You hear about the convention somehow, usually from Levi, where he's asking what cosplay you should go as this time. Sometimes you coordinate, sometimes you don't, but Levi loves to match. When he asks this, he's probably already book you your room. At first, he got you each your own room, but once after he accidently booked one room with two beds, you just started doing that instead. You leave a day before the convention begins with travel time factored in, spend however long there, then return home a day after the convention ends.

This formula is tried, true, and dear to Levi. It's something he can rely on to have the maximum amount of fun with his favorite person. This convention was supposed to be just like any other. The both of you were reusing an older cosplay, just because you had been busy that week. As you toted your bags into the hotel lobby, Levi almost directly in front of you, you asked him to pause. When he froze, and asked why, you carefully picked the Devildom equivalent of a ladybug. He was a little freaked out at first, but after studying the small bug you pulled out of his hair, he got a laugh out of it.

"They're good luck you know, especially if they land on you." You teased him, watching it fly off. Levi didn't respond, feeling a wave of anxiety crash over him. He wasn't sure why. He attributed it to having to deal with checking in, which he hated. But, he would never make you do that, since it was always him who insisted on bringing you along.

While he got you two checked in, you wandered off to the seating area to admire a sculpture. In your absence, something that only happens in his worst nightmares happened. Despite having made a reservation, the system wasn’t showing anything and they had no record at all. He briefly freaked out as he flickered through his camera roll, trying to find the receipt among his many photos of memes and characters fanart. Once he found it, he showed the worker. After seeing this, she did something on her computer and offered him a room upgrade. Before hearing the details, he accepted it. This was all too much for him.

Having acquired the room key, he collected you. The setting sun lit up the room, backlighting you and the sculpture. You simply stared up at it. He almost didn’t want to interrupt you. You noticed him somehow, and spun around to space him, making eye contact with a smile. His heart almost skipped a beat with the way you looked at him.

“Our room ready?” You pulled your suitcase behind you, noticing the keycard in his hand.

“Mmhm.” He didn’t trust himself to speak, and silently led you towards the elevators. He was told they had been given a room on floor 19, which was the second highest. Mc would probably die for that view. The thought of making them happy made him happy.

They two of got on the elevator. Mc made funny face at Levi through the mirrored elevator. After you walked the floor enough, following signage, you found your room. He unlocked it, and swung the door open to a beautiful suite. It came complete with a living room, and kitchenette, and a bathroom that rivaled Asmo’s. Mc dropped their bag by the door, and immediately begins to explore.

“Levi! You didn’t tell me you got a nicer room this time!” You threw your body down onto the sofa, admiring the tv. “This is great.” You peaked over the back of the sofa at him.

“Oh, I actually meant to tell you… There was a mixup of some kind so they upgraded us.” He scratched the back of his neck and closed the door behind him. His soul nearly left his body when he looked further into the room.

There was only one bed.

“Oh no, oh no no no.” He began to freak out for the second time that day.

“What’s the matter?” You got up immediately. You watched where his gaze was fixed. “Oh, Levi. I can sleep on the couch.” You looked at him empathetically, understanding his predicament.

“No! I mean, I can’t let my player two sleep on that sofa when that bed is right there. It’s much nicer than my bathtub. You deserve it. I’m just a loser otaku, but you’re the human who brought my family back together.” He took a small step back.

“Don’t he ridiculous. There’s room for both of us. If it helps, we can just sleep facing opposite ways. Besides, you know Mammon would kill to be in this room with me right now, sharing a bed with me. You could totally use this chance to brag, Levichan.” You giggled, skipping your way into the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed. Be out shortly.” You took your toiletries bag into giant bathroom. Levi pondered for an amount of time he wasn’t sure of, but was jolted out of thought by a knocking on the bathroom wall. Turns out, the shower had a window in it that faced the bed. You were doing a little dance in front of it with just a towel on, poking fun at him. After he covered his eyes and screamed at you to stop, you shut the window curtain so you could actually shower.

Once you were done, he had already unpacked all his things and took his own turn. The bathroom was very luxurious, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Mc and how he was going to be brave and share that bed with them. It was just to rub it in Mammon’s face, he told himself.

When he got out, you were spread out in the bed with a few snacks from your bag and his Devilswitch. “Up for a few rounds before bed, big guy?” He couldn’t say no to you. In his scramble to win every game you two played, and haze of the long day of traveling, he totally forgot about behind nervous. It only crept back in once you’d fallen asleep on his arm, remote still in hand. He froze, unsure what to do.

But, he knew he had to act because with the long day you two had tomorrow, he had to get to bed as well. As he moved to get up to clear the bed of everything on it, you grumbled and grabbed his arm. He began to internally scream, and almost externally too. He was sure he was very red. So, instead, he just moved everything onto his bedside table, and pulled the covers over both of you.

He was stiff under the covers at first, but the more you snuggled into him, the more relaxed he found himself getting. Maybe it was because he was getting more sleepy by the passing seconds, but he almost found himself enjoying the affection. He bid sleeping you goodnight.

Maybe this is what his good luck ladybug meant.

#mostly written on mobile cause I’m traveling so forgive any grammatical or spelling errors:)#obey me!#obey me x reader #obey me #obey me levi #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date

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unorthodoxfaithxx · 9 days

Text

Soft Yandere Simp with CamGirl Reader, part 2

3, 2, 1, FINALLY IT’S TIME! He can hardly contain himself as he counts down the days until he finally gets to meet you in person.

During your nightly video chats with him, which he’s grown to cherish dearly, you brought the idea of meeting up to his attention. You have no idea how happy he was that you brought it up on your own accord!

Through some shady research, he already knows you are about 3 hours away from his home-city. It wouldn’t hurt to drive your way. He’d row a damn boat for hours if it meant getting to see you in person.

The two of you decide on meeting up for a picnic, and then a shopping date at the mall closest to your vicinity.

The night before the designated meetup, he sits at his computer desk studying everything he had learned about you over the past couple of months, lest he forgets something important.

He wishes he had a perfect memory, but he doesn’t. So he opted to writing down every fact he had ever learned about you in a special journal, dedicated to you and only you. All your likes, dislikes, blood type, height, weight (all three of which he had to break into your medical records to find) , favorite games, health issues, the amount of freckles on your face—every little detail he knew about you was written down, along with many, MANY hearts and grade-school doodles because he really can’t help it. You make him feel like a giddy kid again.

Saturday morning. It’s show-time. He leaves thirty minutes early, dressed up and ready to tackle the day and meet the love of his life for the first time. He shoots you a text when he arrives (Did he ever mention his background screen was a photo of you?), nervously standing at your doorstep with a box of your favorite chocolates in hand, as well as a little vase with succulents in it, since you’re allergic to the pollen in actual flowers.

You greet him with a hug and he just about melts in your arms, taking in your scent and rubbing his face into your beautiful locks.

You’re pretty on camera, but nothing beats the real thing. You’re simply a goddess in the human form. He wishes he could take a photo to capture this moment forever, but his eyes will have to make do.

The drive to the park is an awkwardly quiet, but serene one. He swears you might be able to hear his heart pounding the entire ride, despite the music playing in the background (a playlist he made dedicated to you, obviously). When he glances over to the passenger seat, you’re gazing out the window with the cutest little smile on your face. He’s happy you’re happy.

When the two of you arrive, he opens the trunk and removes all the supplies he brought to ensure today’s picnic would be great. He brought a giant blanket for the occasion, a small speaker for music, and even packed sandwiches and cookies that he had made himself, praying to god they would taste good. He wasn’t the greatest cook, so he watched about five different baking videos on how to make the perfect cookies. He hopes Youtube hasn’t failed him yet.

He silently thanks whatever god lives in the sky when you take a bite into a cookie and compliment his baking skills. You take another bite and moan, making him feel ten times hotter than the warm spring day already made him feel.

30 minutes pass and both his and your bellies are full. You lay down on the blanket, inviting him to do the same, and he nervously lays next to you. He relaxes once you intertwine your fingers with his. He thinks he’s never felt more at peace than in this moment, relaxing with you. The two of you talk about random things, watching the clouds in the sky morph into various shapes as time passes.

Eventually, you both pack up and head to the mall. You buy him a figure from his favorite video game, and he gets you a new set of earrings. You laugh when his face turns fully red as you two walk into a store specializing in lingerie.

He feels like he might faint from the sheer intense feelings he has when you ask him to pick something out, ‘just for his eyes only’ you say with a whisper into his ear.

If he didn’t have such good self control he’d bang you in the try-on rooms right then and there. But no. He’d be a gentlemen.

But be prepared for all his pent up longing when you two finally share an intimate time together. Let’s just say he has…plenty in store for you :)

The date ends with you being dropped off back home. You invite him in for a drink, and chat a little more before it becomes late. He finds your yawns adorable, and he kisses you on the forehead before heading out for the night.

He sincerely hopes you don’t ever find the tracking device he’s planted in your purse when you weren’t looking. He convinces himself it’s for peace of mind since he’ll know where you are, whenever you are. To protect you. That’s what good boyfriends do, right?

Wait. Are you two even dating now?

He wants to pull over on the drive home and just sit in utter defeat because his dumbass totally forgot to ask this.

He sighs as he asks the dumbest, most cliche question in the world. He shoots you a text.

“Hey, Y/N. What are we? (｀・ω・´)”

#male yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere male #yandere writing #yandere x reader #yandere drabble #soft yandere #obsessive yandere #yandere thoughts #yancore #yandere blog

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coolprettyleo · 1 month

Text

obsessed with your ex? - juraj slafkovsky ☆

wc: 650+

tw: toxicity? obsessive. mention of sex. stalking?

juraj slafkovsky x reader

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

it was four in the morning and you couldn't sleep. your thoughts were running wild as the six foot three man was laying sound asleep next to you. you were staying over his place tonight and what was supposed to be an easy going night turned into a nightmare; for you at least.

you had opened your instagram to find that jurajs ex had followed you, and commented on her recent instagram post, how you slayed the photo dump you posted on your recent trip to Milan.

I mean his ex didn't mean to get in your brain. you had finally met the girl, about a couple weeks ago at a brand dinner seeing as you were both models. you had been professional with her. but since you guys had many mutual friends the ex seemed to be trying to befriend her.

oh my god I wonder if she was friends with jurajs friends? did she know arber like you know him?

was she good in bed?

does he still think about her?

was she easy going?

every controlling?

well traveled?

well read?

all these thoughts made you want to scream into your pillow and die. something you couldn't do because you were at your boy friends house, sleeping in his bed on a side that was now 'your side' but you knew it was once hers.

when you met the ex about two nights ago you had to act like you didn't know every little thing about her, when you did. you knew everything about her, from her star sign to her fucking blood type.

you felt insane. you were honestly borderline of psycho. you were so obsessed with jurajs ex and everything about her was making you so upset.

you were pulled out of your thoughts when you felt the boy next to you move.

"why are you still awake" jury asked seeing her stare up into the ceiling. he moved to wrap his arms around her and pull her in, trying to to comfort his girlfriend.

what were you supposed to say to him? I'm up thinking about your ex? that im fucking obsessed with her? he would think I was her freaking best friend with how much I would want to talk about her and ask him.

and it wasn't like there wasn't anything I could complain about too, anyways. she was an angel, who was perfect. my friends would even tell me she talked so nicely about me. she was the life of every party and had these perfect hips with the most perfect lips. god you sounded like you were in love with her.

he had once told you that she hated flying so she would take melatonin when they would go visit his family with him back home, and you've never forgotten that detail about her.

"y/n" jurajs voice rasped again.

"what did you call me?" y/n exclaimed sitting up moving away from him. she could of swear he said HER name.

"your name?" juraj said slowly, beyond confused. he loved you so much and the last thing he would of thought was wrong with his girlfriend in the middle of the night, was that you couldn't stop thinking about his ex. he doesn't even speak to her anymore and he loves you with his whole heart.

you looked at him, studying his face for any lie. he wasn't. you felt so obsessed and you knew it was crazy upon repair, but you couldn't help it for some reason.

"alright what's wrong. did I do something" he says sitting up and turning on the nightstand lamp.

you felt horrible. he looked exhausted and he needed his sleep, he had games coming up and he had practice in about five hours.

"no-" you sighed looking at his soft eyes urging you to go on.

"-its just" you stumbled upon how to word your next choice of words.

"you can tell me" he said rubbing your back and kissing your shoulder.

"im obsessed with your ex"

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

omg this is my first non au right and also like no oc character. if its cringe lmk! I like feedback. also this is based of an edit I saw on tiktok!! goodnight loves!!

#nhl imagines #nhl imagine #juraj slafkovsky #hockey fic #hockey imagine #juraj slafkovsky x reader #montreal canadiens x reader #juraj slafkovsky smut #arber xhekaj

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megumisgirl · 10 months

Note

I would let Nerd Megumi spit on me, run me over, finger me to hell, make me cry, slam me, choke me, pull my hair, literally obliterate my holes. And I would still love him.

Thank you

gurl... this gave me an idea and.. therapy is optional, and i might need to go after this ahhhhaa double post today!!

"she's a virgin. they get wet so... easy." megumi x fem!reader

it was your twenty birthday and you felt so excited to celebrate it with the people you most loved, your family and your boyfriend, inumaki. it was a normal day for you, nothing special even if it was birthday. your boyfriend needed to go for some important meeting and here you were, sitting in your room all alone, eating the huge cake meant to serve so many people but now it belongs all to you.

a single tear left your eyes as you frowned, looking at the cake you just kept eating it. it was your party, and you'd cry if you want to. your eyes moved slowly towards the phone as it pinged, alerting you that a new text appeared in your phone. you sighed, picking it up, thinking it was another text for inumaki apologizing because he was going to be late but it wasn't it.

Megumi

happy birthday, butterfly. 01:23pm. thinking of you... 01:24pm. *one attachment sent.*

your breath hitched as you looked at the photo. his glasses were fogged up and he was shirtless, his hair wet and drapping over sea blue eyes, water droplet coated his abs and his dick was springed free. the tip slightly red, and the you could practically feel it throbbing from the screen.

you and megumi had a strange relationship. after everything that happened, you two decided to go your seperate ways since he was more focused on studies than you. an evening with your now-ex megumi, was him studying and you just looking at him hoping he would just pay the littlest bit of attention to her.

plus there was something else you wouldn't discuss with megumi, sometimes his actions were a bit... possesive. yes, like everyone other girl you liked it when your man was a bit protective of you, but megumi was different. what he hid behind those glasses and baggy dorky clothes, he made it up at night wearing a hood with a baseball bat in his hand, beating the hell out of your classmates who flirted with you.

it scared you. how easily he could do this, and how he could live with it. how he could commit these crimes and go unnoticed, and everyone would be scared to even file charges since his guradian was gojo fucking satoru, crime cindiate. so i guess, what more did you even expect? being that nerdy kid, it was the mask he wore to hid the actual man that he was.

a bad, bad man.

and you were worse, for wanting him even after all this. knowing all of it, knowing he was the one who beat them up, put some of the kids into hospitals with broken ribs and arms, your heart ached for them. so he stabbed it. broke your heart, and you broke his by breaking up with him.

you closed your phone, shutting your eyes tightly before you sighed, wondering how low can you get from here before your phone pinged again.

Megumi

*2 new attachments sent.* Are you lonely, butterfly? 1:44pm.

You didn't need two seconds to reply. Now, you're lower.

megumi was deep inside you, the tip of his cock poking through your lower stomach. you whimpered against him, your back pressed against the hard wooden tables. you put your elbows behind you, trying to help your back but megumi pushed you.

"the fuck do you think you're doing, hmm?" he winced, pushing you roughly. you groaned at his rough touch. this was his way of taking revenge on you, making you wait, holding your come in and never. when i say never, i mean it. it has been two hours, and you still haven't come once, but megumi, he hadn't either. if you were hurting, he was two.

"m-.." you whimpered, "my back-"

"what?" he snapped, "it hurt?" you nodded, and in turn you got a slap in return. it stung, badly. your cheeks heat up as his hand roughly grasped your neck, making you look at him, all teary doe eyed and beautiful.. all for him. his heart warmed for a second, before he snapped back to normal.

the humility, the embarassment, the feeling you felt at the moment, hatred? anger? no, that's not it. arousal. you liked it, and that was much, much, worse.

"open your mouth." he ordered. it was a weird thing to ask, even for you. you frowned, not doing as he asked, making him slap you again. you cried out this time, he was being rough, and you cried because you liked it. "open. your. mouth." you did it without question this time, he gathered some spit in his mouth and threw it in your mouth. your cheeks warmed up as he looked at your face, "swallow." you followed as he did, making him smile. "my sweet girl, m'sorry for being so rough."

this was the other thing with him. all that pent up competitiveness from studying so much and the constant pressure of winning and being first, it made him rough with you in bed. too rough. and you weren't complaining, it's just sometimes you wished he was... nicer.

"its okay." you whispered out. the knot in your stomach tightening. he groaned, pushing him inside you with such force, it made you scream. he pulled your hair to bring you closer to him even though you were facing him, he was out-of-control. his mind was gone and this was all his body's doing.

"nngh... sqezeeing me so tight, s-hng.. s-sweet girl," he groaned. "come with me." he repeated constantly as he came. his mind leaving his body as he came inside you, and you came all over him, ruining his pants that were by his ankle and your birthday dress.

"so pretty, so sweet, my girl." he whispered in your ear as he cooed you from your high. your breathing was ragged and barely there. your hands went to his waist and brought him close to hug him. "happy birthday, butterfly." he whispered.

"thank you, megs." you said, hugging him closer. the door opened abruptly as your eyes widened. you pushed megumi away, brining your dress over your chest to cover yourself.

"happy birth-" inumaki stopped, his eyes moving to the both of you. "what freak show is this?!"

extra.

inumaki stood in the middle of the door as you sat on the chair with your hands on your neck, nervously fidgeting with yourself as megumi stood opposite you, towering over inumaki as he smoked a cig.

"how long has this been going on?" he asked, looking at you. you sighed.

"this is the first time we connected after we broke up, i-" you stuttured, running your hands through your hair. "i never wanted this to happen. you can break up with me if you want to, this is... you don't deserve this, i'm sorry." you apologized, humiliated with your behaviour. but megumi doesn't say anything, just look at you.

"we will break up, but how could yo-"

"cut the crap, toge." megumi snapped, making your head look up at the two men in front of you. "aren't you cheating on her with nobuko tadaka?" your eyes moved to inumaki and he looked at you, his cheeks all red.

"i- how did you know about-?" you stood up, ready to leave. "no, baby, i can explain!" you looked at them with a boring expression.

"no need." you said with your hand in front of you as he approached you. by now, you've had enough of their bullshit, enough of men being.. well, men. not being treated right and still going back to them. knowing your worth, you deserve better than these two knuckle heads here. "why dont the two of you fuck each other? since that's what you two do anyways!"

you left abruptly, slamming the door. megumi smirked, taking the cig from his lips and blowing it in inumaki's mouth.

"she's a peice of work, isn't she?" he smirked, half-scoffing as he left the room.

"she sure is." inumaki sighed.

GURL... THESE MEN SUCK (real) also my birthday just passed by!! june 29th, and it sucked so bloop bloop

#megumi smut #jjk smut #megumi fushiguro #megumi #megumi fushiguro smut #megumi jjk #megumi x reader #jjk x reader #notsfw #nsfr

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undercoverpena · 1 year

Note

hi! Requesting something like these “On a whim, pulling your lover into an alley and pressing your lips firmly against theirs, getting lost in each other's touch while the streets bustle outside. “If we get caught kissing in a small, dark, kind of shady alleyway, it's on you."” For price please and thank you! I personally would love to feel this big man push me against a wall haha

#mmvalentinesevent

small, dark and kind of shady

john price x f!reader

It’s sudden. One minute the two of you are walking along the street.

Pretending, hand on his forearm, fingers dancing up and down a vein as the sun kisses your face.

The next you’re in an alleyway. The cool air cooling your skin, spine against firm brick, as the building casts you both in shadows.

His hand, large and calloused, captures your cheek. Pulling your eyes to him, keeping you exactly where he wants you. Feeling his knee between yours.

Did y’need to wear a dress? You said blend in—like a tourist. I am dressed like a tourist, John.

Recon. That's what he had said. The two of you to roam some cobbled European streets, take photos, and pretend to be a couple.

The latter being the easiest part of the whole thing.

Naturally, you weren't sure what recon needed to be collected on your face. Not when his fingers had wrapped around your elbow or when he had pulled you into the alleyway.

Less so now as he studies you, letting his eyes draw across every single part of your face. His eyes were almost hidden by the shadows, thankful his cap is backwards—not that you’d never find his eyes.

You always find them. Across rooms, across streets. A silent conversation is always able to be had through them.

Not that you care. The two of you rarely get a chance to do this, to watch, observe and admire. So many eyes on you both—the captain and his sergeant.

You almost speak, feeling yourself need to. But, you don’t want to shatter the moment. Snap whatever this is and whatever it could become.

Instead, you allow the cars driving over cobble and stone to disturb the peace at the other end of the alleyway. The entrance closest to you both has people peppering the air with languages you only partially understand.

But, no one notices the two of you.

The two people who should know better, but are acting like teenagers. Even with the clouds heavy above the two of you, threatening to spill and rain down on your plans for the day.

Making the task harder. Making the trip last longer. Again, you didn’t care much. The fake story of being a couple in Europe allowed you both to benefit from it. Allow you to lie with him undisturbed.

Meaning now, the lines are blurred. Allowing you to be lost in him, and he in you.

It makes you not want to go home. To return to base and go back to pretending.

You pull him closer by his jacket. The once-tan but now-a-worn-brown one. The one he’d put over your shoulders months ago, not saying a word as he did, side-eyeing you as you buried your cheeks against the lapels. The ones which you suspect had once been soft, but now were bobbled and overwashed.

His chin tilts, staring into your eyes like you have the answers to all his questions.

"If we get caught kissing in a small, dark, and kind of shady alleyway, it's on you, Captain."

"Won't get caught, love."

"Overconfidence, I like it."

He smirks, his low laugh brushing over your skin. The scent of his last cigar flowed in the little space between the two of you. One you wish would attach itself to your clothes, your skin, your bedsheets.

Merging and mingling with the scent he leaves on your skin. When his hand hooks your leg over his hips and calls you pretty, and good, and a bunch of other praises that make your cheeks and chest burn.

"You going to kiss me then, John?"

He strokes his thumb across your cheek, inhaling deeply, his eyes staring into yours. "Y’always in a rush."

“Have you seen yourself?”

His thumb brushes your cheek. “Enough.”

You grin, light and easily. One he pulls from you without trying—has done since this all began.

Licking your lips, you tilt your head. "If I was pissin' around with Soap, you'd rip me a new arsehole."

He chuckles, low and deep. The corners of his mouth twitch, the wired hair catching the limited light. His other hand slid under the hem of your dress, palm grasping your upper thigh.

"You're not wrong."

"Never am, am I, John?"

He shakes his head. "No, love."

Sighing, you roll your hips against his. Watching his throat, seeing how he swallows.

He tries to hide it. He fails at it like he did when he denied he didn’t want to fuck you that first time. The internal war he had with himself almost allowed you to walk out the door.

You’re thankful he lost to his better judgement. Even more glad that he’s changed his judgement, realising how worth it you are.

He presses his forehead against yours, seeing how his eyes have darkened—just enough to know that his original thoughts of a quick makeout were turning into something longer, something which would have you likely walking funny.

The loud sound of a bang is followed by a car horn blaring. But, neither of you pulls your gaze from the other. Not that he’d let you. His hand still holding your cheek in place.

Even if your pulse quickens—even if he feels it—your hand almost flexes to reach for something. Something you don’t even have on you—

“It’s alright, love. I’m here.”

“I know,” you whisper, hooking your finger inside the waistband of his jeans.

Stroking your touch lightly against his skin, hearing the noticeable inhale.

“That’s the problem.”

“I’m the problem, hmm?”

“Well, I’m not the one in charge, distracting the impressionable sergeant who has to collect intel…”

He runs his tongue over the front of his teeth. The first indication you’re going to be warned, your thighs squeezing around his knee at the thought.

“Already got enough intel, love.”

“Oh? So, we’re what? Seeing the sights?”

“I am.”

Your skin warms. Eyes flicking down, never sure what to do with his praise, with his flattering words.

“Look at me.”

You do. You’d do anything he asked. “Still the problem?”

You nod lightly, watching him smirk. “If you kissed me, I’d reconsider though.”

He licks his lips, mumbling a fair, and then he crashes his mouth to yours.

Chapped lips against yours, filling you with warmth similar to the European sun on your skin. You whimper, the sound stolen by his tongue and his mouth.

Mostly, you let yourself feel how his hand keeps you close—so close, there's no space left. His lips burn words into you he hasn’t yet said. Your hand tugging his hips flush against yours. Wanting him. Needing him.

Even if you had him this morning. Even if you'd spent hours, when you should have been sleeping, getting your fill of him.

The two of you are like teenagers when the parents are away. Two people who are not scared of being caught.

Nothing like a captain and his sergeant.

Not that you care at all.

#mmvalentinesevent #mm valentines event #john price #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price #john price cod #john price x female reader #cod price x reader #cod price #cod x reader

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peachenle · 1 year

Text

down the hatch

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: college!au | fratboy!au | fluff, established relationship | some suggestive content at the end

word count: 5k

warnings: lots of drinking, profanity, sexual themes, fake frats, more semi-unhumorous banter, sunghoon biceps

༄࿔˚✧ synopsis: “a collection of moments with sunghoon, shared over meals, snacks, and drinks. a riff off of timestamps. not in chronological order. a continuation/epilogue of captain’s log.”

tagging: @dearhee @ozymandia-s @judeduartewannabe @pokemonpartyworld @thejjrl @end-hyphen

jungle juice

There wasn’t a lot you could do when it came to football game weekends. You knew the drill. Your roommate Yunjin would be pestering you to “Can you please show at least a little school pride?” as she posed you for pictures, dressed in your university’s sanctioned colors. Sunghoon would be off doing god knows what to prepare for the HYB tailgate. However, today’s game was much later in the day, and you were saved from the tragedy of drinking at 8am like last time.

Sunghoon had warned you that he’d be busy that morning, buying groceries for the pre-game, the tailgates, and the afterparty. You decided you’d return to the library, cramming a couple assignments (like usual) before the chaos of the upcoming afternoon.

Not even an hour into your studies, and uncharacteristically, Sunghoon began sending you a string of messages.

sunghoon: is this a good juice brand *photo attached*

you: its orange juice i dont think you can go wrong but yes

sunghoon: is 1kg of strawberries enough

you: why did they let you buy groceries by yourself this time

sunghoon: *photo attached* I’m with riki

you: …

you: remind me to not consume whatever you guys are trying to make

*Sunghoon disliked a message you sent.*

The festivities of the day included a pregame at the HYB house, carpools to the main stadium parking lot for the tailgate, and cheering alongside everyone else at the actual game. Naturally, the night would end at HYB.

You were still shy about letting yourself inside the house, even though you knew they never locked the doors on days like this. Sunghoon once insisted on giving you a key, to make it easier for you when you came over. And though the other guys that lived at the house gave him permission to do so, you - maturely - explained that you had to respect their spaces as a guest. Sunghoon met you with a pout and a reluctant nod of understanding.

I’m outside, you texted your boyfriend, stepping up the stairs to the front doors. You heard yelling and music, and you were surprised the fun had already begun.

You stepped back as the door swung open, meeting your boyfriend’s sheepish smile and Jay’s bright one. Sunghoon grabbed your hand, brushing a quick kiss on your forehead.

“Alright, Y/N, so we fucked up the jungle juice,” Jay stared at you expectantly, his face fully flushed already.

You made a face, “How is that possible?”

Sunghoon laughed, “Just wait.”

Next to the two large tubs of their creation, the kitchen’s island was littered with empty juice cartons and several empty liquor bottles.. and many beer bottles?

One of the other HYB brothers followed your gaze, “We put beer in it to make it bubbly.”

Sunghoon passed you a cup. You stared at the little strawberry floating within an unnervingly bubbling red-orange concoction. Safe to say the beer was not a good choice, the ratio was definitely off - how can something so fruity taste so bitter? “Yeah, it does taste like shit.”

“Okay, but who drinks jungle juice for enjoyment?,” Riki suggested, shuffling through the songs playing from his phone to the speakers.

Jay, sarcastic, stated. “Jungle juice should be treated as a delicacy.”

Sunghoon, amused, replied, “Then why did you defile it by adding cheap beer?”

“I saw it on TikTok, leave me alone.”

Some other guys arrived later and called for help to set up, so you and Sunghoon were left to figure out what to do with the drinks.

Your guys’ solution was to just add more orange juice, which didn’t exactly mask the beer taste, but it made it more tolerable.

The pregame wasn’t eventful, mostly HYB guys and their significant others taking shots before packing everything (and everyone) into a few cars to take to the university stadium.

The parking lot was crowded, different Greek groups mingling with each other. You and Sunghoon sat in the back bed of a friend’s pickup truck, next to the tubs of jungle juice, watching the chaos unfold.

People were grilling meat, passing lettuce wrapped morsels amongst each other. Everyone was decked out in school colors, some holding signs cursing out the other team.

Sunghoon laid a drunken head on your shoulder, taking a hand into his. You felt him shake with laughter as some of the boys wrestled over a football. Other guys were funneling shots and you thought of your boyfriend, certainly the least chaotic (in terms of drinking) out of all of them.

“Hoon, I wish you’d just own up to your true frat potential.”

“The way you tease my friends for being alcoholic fuckboys really holds me back from that.”

You paused, “You’re the exception to the rule. It’s not anyone’s fault Jay has a new flame each week - he’s just embracing who he is - a HYB brother.”

"I think it's time I hang up the frat paddle and just be a wholesome student."

“Dude, you just picked up a Little, what are you talking about?" Riki interjected (the Little in question).

Sunghoon sighed dramatically, “And I regret it everyday.”

Your school’s team won, and everyone traveled back to celebrate appropriately at the HYB house. The daytime festivities (and drinks) left you tired, and you pulled Sunghoon away from the action to selfishly have him help you to sleep.

It was only 9 pm and you knew there were still drinks to be drunk, but it was getting difficult for you to keep your eyes open.

Sunghoon led you to his bed, climbing in shortly after. You two were silent as he took you into his arms, the warmth of his chest lulling you into darkness.

You woke, the wisps of your hair clinging to your forehead with sweat. You were surprised to find Sunghoon’s limbs still intertwined with yours, considering the bass of the party’s music downstairs still vibrated his bed frame. He definitely did not mean to fall asleep. You brushed the loose hairs out of your face, staring at your boyfriend’s features in the glow of his LED lights.

Sunghoon’s sleeping face was so peaceful, and you often took pictures to relish at the image if you missed him. You were so content. You burrowed your face back into the heat of his neck, not minding how his proximity literally made you sweat. Just being able to be with him… you couldn’t care less.

tiramisu

Your third real date - you could not consider invites to his parties actual dates - Sunghoon wanted to take you to his favorite dessert cafe downtown. The last time he took you out, he offered to drive, picking you up right on time, and with a single tulip sitting on the passenger’s seat.

This time, however, he asked if it was okay if you two could just walk and ride the bus together. Sunghoon had his moments of pure charisma, teasing you smoothly, and finding a way to break out a smile from you. There were other times where you were absolutely astonished at his clumsiness. While Sunghoon was in the final stages of crossing over into HYB, some of the things you had to witness him go through… thank god he was handsome.

The midday sun was beaming brightly, a gentle wind passing through your thin layers - not offering you much comfort to soothe the beads of sweat on your forehead. Sunghoon was dressed casually, a short sleeved button down - revealing just enough of his toned chest, and some loose trousers.

“You know, I asked to walk with you today so that I could have more time with you, but I’m kinda regretting it,” he said pointedly, gesturing at the hot spring rays of the sun.

“Wow, are you saying time with me isn’t worth a couple minutes of sweat?” you said, with a blank face.

Sunghoon’s face contorted to one of apology, his lips opening to ramble a sorry, but then stopped and broke into a smile. “Yeah, you’re less cute when you’re sweaty.”

You scoffed as you pushed his shoulder, discreetly swiping a hand across your forehead.

The bus was packed, and you two were left with the option of standing body to body with other passengers. Sunghoon grabbed a hanging handrail for support before the bus took off, but the others in your section were occupied. The bus jolted forward and you stumbled into Sunghoon’s torso, his free hand catching your shoulder.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, and you peeked up to see him bite back a smile. After stabilizing your stance, Sunghoon’s free hand traced down your bare arm. He gently grasped your hand and directed it to his bent arm, offering you his bicep to hold for support.

“You’re sly, Park Sunghoon,” you whispered. His arm was toned, and it felt firm under your grasp.

“Hey, I hit a PR at the gym yesterday, this is a reward for both of us. You should thank me really.”

After making it out of the bus, you didn’t bother to let go of his arm. He coolly slipped his hands in his pockets as he led you to the cafe - you stared at his red ears and knew the impact you had on him.

You picked a table in the back corner, the cafe was decorated brightly and had walls lined with bookshelves. You let Sunghoon order for you. He returned with a bright smile, setting the order pager on the table.

“This place has the best cakes,” Sunghoon was beaming with excitement. You laughed, his giddy expression was so endearing it was hard not to reciprocate.

Sunghoon stood to pick up the order when it was ready, and passed you your pink smoothie. He set a green tea cake and slice of tiramisu in the middle, taking a sip of his Americano.

“So they make tiramisu the authentic way.” Sunghoon began to explain how tiramisu is supposed to be made (who knew he was such a fanatic?), and you spared him of the knowledge that you too knew how it was actually made. “The owner says they get imported coffee beans especially for their espresso, so the flavor is super strong!” He used his spoon to point out the different creamy layers.

The cake did look delicious, but the sight of Sunghoon’s eyes glowing staring at his favorite dessert was more satiating. You sipped your smoothie as he finished his ramble.

Sunghoon slowly carved into the cake with his spoon, and held it out to you.

“Are you really feeding me right now?”

He smiled, “I know you want it.” He was right. You did.

The cake was creamy and soft, just as it looked, but you scowled at the clashing taste.

“I don’t think fruit smoothies with tiramisu is a good pairing…” you smiled sheepishly.

He passed you the cup of his Americano to wash the flavor away before scooping another bite for you. Sunghoon smiled as he noted your expression of approval. The taste of the espresso was bitter, but the cream and cocoa melted to coat your tongue with sweetness.

Sunghoon didn’t mind that he traded his Americano with your smoothie. He didn’t mind that the tartness of the fruit totally ruined his favorite dessert. Your happy expression was enough for him.

somaek

Being in a relationship with someone so popular, and so involved with his social circles, unknowingly pulled you into many social events and gatherings. You were intertwined with his organization, and joining some of their philanthropy events led you to become a desired member in some sororities.

You simply explained you didn’t have the time to commit to anything. You had your own orgs, your own part-time job, and your own studies.

Probably the first problem that you two faced early in your relationship had to do with just that - balancing each of your respective responsibilities. Being in Greek obligated him to attend many events, and him living in a frat house didn’t make things easier when it came to alone time.

You loved his friends, and truly saw some of them as your own now, but spending time with your boyfriend in a room right between Jake and Jay drove you mad sometimes.

There was knocking at Sunghoon’s door. You two were sitting on the floor, your laptop propped up, educating your boyfriend with iconic Vine compilations. “It’s Jake!”

Sunghoon stood to open the door and see what his friend wanted. Naturally, Jake pushed inside disregarding Sunghoon.

“Dude, I’m right here?”

“Hey, Y/N, can you explain the post-lab that’s due tomorrow? The summary part seems so redundant… I don’t get how it’s different from the analysis.”

You blinked at him, half-eyeing the soju and beer bottles you and Sunghoon were peacefully sharing just a minute before. Sunghoon sighed and you snorted.

“Jake, can I please just have a night with my girl? You see her like four days a week in class, and could’ve gotten help then.”

Jake made an O with his lips, realizing his brashness and laughed. “My bad! And I’ve actually seen her everyday this week because of supplementary labs!”

Sunghoon basically dragged his friend out, locking the door behind him.

“Sorry about him.” You shook your head, amused, pretty much accustomed to this behavior already.

You refilled Sunghoon’s beer glass, and poured in a shot of soju right after. “If it makes you feel any better, that post-lab was actually due today.”

Sunghoon downed the drink in one shot, his cheeks cherried from the alcohol. “This is why I love you.”

He paused. That was the first time he said I love you to you. You snickered, “That still counts even if you’re drunk.”

He pouted his lips, then smiled, “Honestly, I consider that a win.” He stuck his tongue out at you. “Ha! I said it first.”

suggestive content in the end of this last section - feel free to skip!

peppermint hot cocoa

Sunghoon was always patient with you, pausing to make sure you were enjoying yourself, never hesitating to ask if you were alright. He was gentle and caring, and never rushed.

However, your first time with Sunghoon consisted of a lot of moving parts. Clashing limbs and rushed whispers, you were out of breath before even really starting.

You’d had your share of one night stands, purely lust filled nights: chaptered with drunken exchanges, entangled bodies, and the dreaded walk of shame the morning after. Only rarely were you lucky enough to have snuck out before the rise of the sun.

Since you two started talking, you had access to HYB and hockey club parties, which were at least every other week. It was still fun to party with your girlfriends, before sneaking away with Sunghoon to play pool or some drinking games.

Each night was riddled with ST and for better or for worse, he never advanced anything further than a couple sessions of making out.

Hell, there was one night where you made out for what felt like two hours straight. One of his hands was finally on the inside of your panties, rubbing you expertly, but as soon as you reached for the front of his jeans, Sunghoon stood up. You two were drunk, but even then you could tell that his “phone call from Heeseung-hyung” was nothing more than him pulling up the calculator app and putting it to his ear.

“I just don’t know why he doesn’t want to sleep with me?” You brought up to Yunjin the next day. “He had a girl in his bed and he pretended to call Heeseung.”

Yunjin bit her lip, and looked at you with the most serious expression. “Y/N, that’s so fucking tragic. Me, personally, I’d stop talking to him.”

“It’s not that I want to just have sex with him!” You whined. “I like him. But you know, we just keep stopping right before.”

She continued, “Imagine getting hot and bothered with a girl on top of you and the thing he thinks of to get out of it is Heeseung. Your tongue was down his throat and his best out was Heeseung.”

“Okay, now this just feels like a jab at Heeseung.”

“He ghosted me, Y/N! I was supposed to do that.”

You rolled your eyes at your best friend. “What do I do?”

“You said the only times you’ve gotten close were when you two were drunk right? Maybe he gets whiskey dick.” She grins.

You pause to think about the things you’ve felt, the times where you’ve run a palm down the front of his pants, just to hear a pretty gasp from him. Or the times where you straddled him, and he grabbed your hips to push you further onto him.

“Yeah… I don’t think so.”

“Honestly, he’s probably just nervous. Anyone can tell just how headass you two are for each other. Or maybe he doesn’t want to do it drunk.”

Yunjin then muttered, “Couldn’t be me. Drunk sex is…”

During a lecture - as you and Jake were hunched over his laptop, going over the practice case scenarios together - you saw a text message pop up on Jake’s screen.

hoonhoon bro: should i just ask her out again

Jake cleared his throat and slowly turned his screen towards only him, “Lemme check something real quick.”

You snickered, “Very subtle, Jake.”

He gave you a look, “I could just lie and say you told me you aren’t into him anymore.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Jake smiled brightly, “Yeah you’re right, I like you guys too much.”

You then received a text message.

park sunghoon: Are you busy tonight?

you: yes i’m going on a date

park sunghoon: what

Jake looked up from typing on his laptop. In a hushed whisper, “You’re seeing other guys!?”

You kept your eyes on your phone and continued.

you: yeah i started talking to him from a hockey club party

Jake poked your arm angrily, and turned his screen to show you the texts between himself and Sunghoon.

hoonhoon bro: SHES SEEING SOMEONE ELSE WHAT THE FUCK

me: WTF DUDE LET ME ASK HER

hoonhoon bro: wait dont

hoonhoon bro: THEY MET AT A HOCKEY CLUB PARTY?? IVE LITERALLY KEPT MY EYES ON HER AT EACH PARTY I never saw her speak to any other new guys

You covered your mouth to silence your laugh. Jake was seething, waiting for your explanation but you still typed on your phone.

you: yeah his name is sunghoon

park sunghoon: ???

park sunghoon: oh

park sunghoon: We’re going on a date tonight?

you: aren’t we? you asked if i was free lol

park sunghoon: I’ll pick you up at 6

You heard Jake sigh in relief, “I seriously went through all the stages of grief just now.”

When the lecture finished, Jake turned to you one more time. “If things ever go south… Just let him down easy? I like you, dude, but I can’t guarantee your safety from Jay if Sunghoon comes home crying one day.”

All you could do was gently smile and nod.

That evening, fresh from the shower and loaded with the jitters of the impending date in about an hour, you received a text.

park sunghoon: Are you craving anything

you: you

park sunghoon: huh

you: can surprise me

You laughed out loud at yourself. You saw your roommate stare from the corner of your eye. “Embarassing,” she teased.

When Sunghoon notified you of his arrival, you took a deep breath before exiting the dorm building. This was only the second date - sure you’ve had many hours of drunkenness with him at parties - but it didn’t settle the nerves of a date any less.

He smiled at you when you opened the passenger door, a single pink tulip waiting for you on your seat.

Sunghoon’s car always smelled deeply of him, so clean and fresh. He smelled of soap, or crisp linen, and sometimes, like today, you noticed hints of coffee.

“So, I was thinking, does sushi sound good?”

“It’s not really a surprise if you tell me before we go,” you quipped. “But yes, of course.”

He poked your cheek. Sunghoon shared details about his day, discussing a couple of hours at the rink before class.

He snorted, “It’s always awkward giving lessons to kids who have tiger parents. This little boy today ate shit on the ice practicing his loop and his mom yelled at him from the stands.”

Sunghoon grimaced, “Then she yelled at me…”

Your conversation flowed throughout the drive into downtown. He asked you about your day, and you left out the flurry of texts you read about yourself, courtesy of Jake.

“Another girl dm’ed me asking if I wanted to rush next semester. And then she explained she could guarantee me a bid.”

“They must be desperate if they’re asking you.”

“Yeah, like I don’t know if I’d want to ru- wait. What are you trying to say?” You punched his shoulder as he cackled.

“Don’t hit the driver! Very dangerous.”

The restaurant was packed, but since Sunghoon had called ahead of time, you were seated very quickly.

“What would you have done if I didn’t agree to sushi?”

“I would’ve brought you here anyway. Surprise!”

The sashimi was delicious; and you and Sunghoon, shamelessly, audibly groaned at the taste. You two argued over which fish was best, obviously the salmon, and though he disagreed, he happily scarfed down the last piece of salmon when you offered it.

You let Sunghoon guide you through the streets of downtown for a couple blocks, thinking you were just aimlessly walking, before he stopped abruptly.

“You haven’t been here have you?”

He brought you to the skating rink. Sunghoon followed your hands with his gaze as you gripped the ends of your thin long sleeve.

“Don’t worry, I have a jacket in my work locker!” He took your hand as he led you inside.

His coworkers greeted him brightly, a couple of them squinting at him suggestively when they noticed you were holding hands.

Sunghoon helped you select some skates, before taking your hand again to lead you to the back area to his locker. He grabbed the skates out of your hands to exchange them for his hoodie, grinning as you slipped it over your body.

He balanced the two pairs of skates in one arm, still gripping your hand as he took you to the actual rink.

You sat down at a bench on the outskirts of the stands and stared as Sunghoon squatted down in front of you.

“Here, I’ll help you lace them up,” he said, smiling up at you.

“Ok, dad.”

He rolled his eyes, and you blushed as he took one of your feet in his hands to guide it into the skate. He said nothing as he tightened the laces, and tied them expertly with his long fingers.

You gulped. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of his hands as he put on his own skates.

Sunghoon on ice was a different version of him altogether. He took both of your hands into his, gliding backwards. Effortlessly, he kept his eyes on you, while you stared at the ice at his stable feet and your shaky ones.

“Look up at me; it helps with balance,” he said as he tilted your head up with a finger.

In efforts to hide your embarrassment, you responded, “Ice skating seems like the perfect way for you to charm women.”

He grinned, “Yeah, and judging by the look of you… It’s working, isn’t it?”

If you weren’t so uncoordinated on ice, you’d have grabbed his shirt and kissed him right there.

After freshening up in the bathroom, wiping away the sniffles from the cold and fixing up your hair, you found Sunghoon chatting with his coworker at the skate counter.

“You don’t have anywhere to be early tomorrow do you?”

You thought of the 9 am study session you were invited to go to before class. “… Nope, I’m free.”

“That sounded like a lie, but I’ll take it because I feel selfish today,” Sunghoon joked. You thought of how attentive he was today. He was anything but selfish. “Let’s watch a movie, we didn’t properly use my surround sound last time.”

For once the HYB house was quiet and peaceful. The walls were still lined with funny banners, or old decorations. Each time you were at the house previously, it was at night, the rooms only illuminated by LEDs or strobe lights. This time the front of the house was brightly lit by the chandelier. You noticed the fond remains of a certain poster.

This was the first time being in Sunghoon’s room, without the excuse of tequila or rum or a “loud party” ushering you two inside. You could actually make out the couple trophies that were set on a shelf. First Place Park Sunghoon. Another one reading: Runner Up National Champion - Novice.

“Did you ever think of going pro? Making it your full career?”

Sunghoon smiled softly, “Everyday since I started when I was 9, and until I was 17.”

“Injury?”

“Man, we’re getting into the deep stuff… but no, actually. I think I just started getting tired of skating being the only thing I knew. I had like 3 friends on a good day.”

He sat on his bed, patting the space next to him for you, and continued, “I still skated in comps up until last year before I transferred… But it hadn’t felt the same since high school.”

You placed your hand on his knee in support, saying nothing to let him continue if he wanted.

“Now, I’m just trying new things, learning more about what’s out there. I still skate, obviously, but I think I feel better about just having it a hobby than making it my whole life.”

“You’ve gotta show me your old competition videos.”

Sunghoon frowned, “Too embarrassing.”

“Totally googling you later.”

“I’ll show you under one condition,” his hand shifted onto your lap, and leaned towards you. You could almost feel his breathing.

You nodded slowly, “And what would that be?”

He leaned back and grinned, “You share something equally embarassing of course! Your face is so red… Jeez, what did you have in mind, Y/N?”

You couldn’t take it anymore. The flirting, his suggestive eyes, his teases.

“Kiss me,” you stated. “Please.”

Sunghoon blinked in surprise, his teasing smile fading into one of confidence, of pride.

“Well, only since you said please,” he whispered.

You fluttered your eyes closed and you gripped one of his arms as your lips catch his.

Sunghoon smiled and pulled his lips away for a second, “I can’t believe you ordered mint hot cocoa. I can taste it,” his forehead resting against yours.”

“Don’t like it?” you teased.

He kissed you, before saying, “Normally, never. On you? I guess I can tolerate it.”

You pulled him back in, teeth clashing and eager eager hands reaching for the nape of his neck. One of Sunghoon’s arms snaked around your back, guiding you to lay flat on his bed, his other arm leaning by your head to support his weight above you.

He traced kisses down the side of your jaw and you sighed.

“Please,” you hushed, tugging on the hem of his shirt. As he pulled his top over his head, your fingers eagerly glided up his toned abdomen, over his chest, before settling on his wide shoulders again. He leaned down to brush trails over your neck with his lips, his tongue slipping out to fully taste you.

“Seeing you in my clothes…” he mumbled against your skin. You were indeed still wearing his hoodie from the rink.

A worried thought crossed your mind, which was jarring since your only other thoughts were how good his lips felt on your skin, and how nice his fingers were as one of them teasingly toyed with the waistband of your pants.

“Hoon.” His body stopped moving and he looked up seriously at you with hooded lids.

“Why haven’t we ever … gone all the way?”

Sunghoon leaned back, and then laid next to you on his side. “I didn’t want the first time we did anything more to be when we were drunk. I… wanna really remember it. I’m sorry for not explaining that each time I’ve stopped us…”

“Yeah, not sure Heeseung would appreciate being tangled in a lie.”

“OK. That time, I admit, I don’t even know why I did that. I was so nervous,” he covered his eyes with a hand.

“You’re more sappy and sentimental than you look,” you traced a finger over his lips and kissed him, his eyes still covered.

“Alright,” he finally looked at you, his eyes dark. “What do I look like?”

You smirked, “Someone who looks good underneath me.”

And it was true. Sunghoon looked real good. And he was well worth the wait.

#sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon smut #sunghoon fluff #enhypen fluff #enhypen fanfic #fic: dth #peachenle fic #sunghoon imagines #ahhhhhhh i wrote this in a flurry i love and hate it idk #if you see me edit this later my bad lol #i love you sunghoon park!

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icarustypicalfall · 7 months

Text

you are home

john price x reader

comfort fluff <3

warnings: none

note: i didn't include the huge ahh skin care step by step cuz i am lazy 💅🏻

"will you ever get sick of me?"

"loving you is the antidote"

Once in a while, you and John found solace in the comfort of your home, far away from the base, the burdens of war, and the constant threats that loomed. With his relentless responsibilities, it was rare for the two of you to have a moment alone, as John always seemed to be on the run.

But tonight was different.

After tidying up the kitchen from the delightful mess you had made together earlier. You watched John with immense admiration as he skillfully prepared one of his magnificent recipes. Little did he know what you had planned for him.

As your husband reclined on the bed, oblivious to your intentions, you quietly snuck into the bathroom, gathering an assortment of skincare and body care products.

John looked confused, never quite understanding why you needed so many products or why you spent such a long time in the bathroom every night. Nonetheless, he never minded and generously indulged you by providing for all your skincare needs.

He once mentioned his willingness to learn more about caring for your hair and skin, wanting to pamper his beloved.

"Whoa, love, are you going to teach me how to use all those? Not sure I'll remember everything," John chuckled, his eyes filled with amusement, as you playfully rolled your eyes, a mischievous smile gracing your face. You carefully placed the basket on the bed before turning to your adoring husband.

"Well, I thought tonight I would take care of you, my dear," You'd announce, expression quickly transforming into a genuine smile as John's face brightened.

"Who could resist someone as beautiful as you, love?" John replied, his voice tender. After explaining the plan, he settled himself back on the bed, pulling on the bunny ears of the headband you placed on his head.

"Well, Bonnie, I'm glad my men are away. Can't have them seeing me like this. You're turning this old man into a bunny," he playfully remarked.

Your laughter reverberated softly through the room as you lit your favorite candle and selected some soothing jazz music. The ambiance was warm and inviting, carrying the gentle scents of cinnamon, clove, and the faint aroma of John's morning cigars, creating an atmosphere of peace and contentment.

Feeling a gentle squeeze around your waist and observing the eager military veteran adorned with bunny ears, you were reminded of the task at hand.

Throughout the entire experience, John asked about the different products, attentively memorizing each name and their functions. Although he hesitated in admitting it, he secretly reveled in the divine indulgence of this shared skincare night—having you close, pampering him, and later receiving a massage to soothe his tense muscles. Fatigue started to claim him, and he struggled to stay awake, feeling more relaxed than he had in a long time.

By midnight, sleep beckoned, and you had succumbed, donning a sheet mask as you rested your head upon John's leg, which you had just finished massaging. John couldn't help but chuckle, taking in the sight of your comfortable yet slightly awkward posture, the trail of drool from your chin, and your serene expression.

He quietly snapped a photo, deciding that he would tease you about it in the morning. For now, he gently guided you back into bed, setting the skincare basket aside.

He brought your hand to his face, placing a tender kiss on your smooth fingertips. The softness of your skin against his lips felt heavenly.

He nestled his head back, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist, as he gazed at the moon's glow from the crook of the curtains. He couldn't ask for anything more than this perfect moment. In fact, he was content with everything life had given him. Expecially you.

(this was short cuz i wrote it in the morning and cuz im exhausted i hate studying man 🥹💀 but anyway I'll be making more comfort stuff)

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xxnghtclls · 2 months

Text

Nighty beginner art tips

- never start with full body drawings. Not even half body. Maybe not even face. I’ve been drawing my whole life and I rarely can put together a full body drawing. I started to learn drawing with an eye. Do it step by step, you can’t concentrate on too many things at once. Also! I once heard that if you draw someone the eyes determine if you can recognise the person, so they have to be spot on and that stuck with me ever since.

- don’t start with full body -colour- drawings. Actually don’t start with colour. fck colour. learn that later.

- greyscale is easier to develop a sense for shading and rendering. At least for me. Because you only need to think in black- white and midtones and not hue, saturation and brightness. It’s much more difficult to use colours to create an interesting composition than just black white and midtones imo.

- Develop an eye for what looks right. Just look at people. Look at stuff you want to draw. You don’t know how much time I’ve spent to just literally look at Sukuna and just -study- him and how he works. Do it with faces, fingers, arms, feet. Just -look-. Perspective is an evil btch and I still struggle with it too, but it will get easier! The next step is to learn how to translate it onto your canvas.

- tracing references (photos) is completely fine to get a feeling for anatomy and poses! Next step is to alternate your drawing from the reference. True Form Sukuna works perfectly for that cause you have two extra arms to draw and an unusual cute ass face.

- Tutorials are fine and the internet is full of it but you learn more if you fail a thousand times. Draw and compare. Draw and compare. It also helps with the eye I talked about earlier.

- If you draw traditionally use different pencils for a single drawing (HB, 2B, 6B etc) If you draw digitally, use different brushes.

- If you think you’re stuck and you don’t develop: use. different. pencils/brushes.

- Almost the most important thing: have INTENTION and THOUGHT behind your art. You can’t ppl expect to be amazed by your art, if you didn’t put intention and thought behind it. It IS visible if you did or didn’t.

- Take.Your.Time.

- Please don’t ask people for advise, who clearly don’t have the artstyle you are pursuing. They probably don’t know how to help you. At least I don’t. (don’t ask me about anime style please.)

#nighty talks #art tips #beginner art #artist #artist support #artists on tumblr #nighty advice

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flowerandblood · 11 months

Text

Just this one time (Oneshot)

[modern! • Aemond x sexworker! • female ]

[warnings: sex content, smut, sexwork, anxiety, fluff]

[description: The girl is forced by her life situation to set up a profile on a portal, that is used by sex workers to attract clients. One of them, a young, enigmatic man, wants more than her pictures (Anon Request). Complexes, smut, anxiety, fluff.]

This story has a continuation in another Oneshot (Just one more time), but it can be read as a standalone story.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

_____

She had never been so distraught in her life as that evening, when her mother called her to say that their father was in the hospital. Like every week, he went out to drink with friends and play cards. On his way home he didn't look at the road and was hit by a car. He had to undergo surgery which he fortunately survived, his prognosis was good.

The nightmare began when the hospital realized what neither she nor her mother knew - that her father had been unemployed for several months and was not covered by health insurance. Her mother called her crying, saying that such a gigantic sum was beyond her financial means. She worked as a school teacher and tutored. She asked her if she had any savings.

She worked part-time in a bookstore and while she was studying, paying for her room and food, she had little money. She had just gotten paid and had given her mother everything she had. Not only was it not enough, but she had no idea how she was going to make it through her paycheck and pay all the bills. She cried all night that day and didn't sleep a wink.

The next day she spent all her classes thinking hard about what to do. She called her boss, but he told her that even if he wanted to, he couldn't suddenly hire her full-time. He could have paid her a week's wages sooner, but it wouldn't have changed much. She needed a large cash injection quickly. During one of the lectures she suddenly glanced at one of the girls in her year and froze.

She once heard her talk about a website where she sold her photos and videos. She dated rich men on cams, sent them her clothes and panties, and even arranged for them to have sex in her apartment.

She said it wasn't so bad at all, she had a lot of money quickly and she didn't worry about anything. She cared about her anonymity and carefully selected her clients.

She covered her face with her hands, terrified of what she was thinking. She had had sex with her previous boyfriends, but it was always in a relationship, never with a complete stranger, and never for money. When it came to pay that meant she had to satisfy someone, be someone's product to be happy with. She dismissed the thought, knowing she couldn't do it.

When she got home she involuntarily looked at the portal that the girl was talking about. She couldn't see anything without registering.

She sighed heavily, squeezing her eyes shut, not believing what she was doing. A large window opened for her. She was surprised at how many questions she had to answer.

Is she an adult? What nickname does she want? How old is she? What interests her? What is her hobby - sweet photos, videos, maybe meetings or video chat? What kind of men or women, and in what age range, did she want to meet on the portal? What prices for what services?

Once in a while she'd get up from her laptop, pacing the room with her hands on her cheeks, wondering if it was safe, and what if anyone found out. She'd probably die of embarrassment, but each time she sat back down and went back to writing.

No videos. No webcams. No meetings. Just pictures, sweet, innocent, maybe in a light negligee. Men aged 20-35. She didn't want any old, disgusting guys looking at her.

She clicked "register" and her account appeared in front of her on the portal. She could now add more details about herself, what she does, what she likes and dislikes.

She wrote down a few things, including her interests. All that's left to do was post the photos. She sighed softly, went on Pinterest and started looking for aesthetic inspiration. She wasn't going to make pornography out of herself.

She saw plenty of girls with shirts unbuttoned that were too big or in huge sweaters that uncovered their shoulders, in long socks to the middle of the thighs or in delicate, subtle underwear.

It wasn't too bad, she decided, because there was a charm to it and she could crop out the photo, so her face wouldn't be visible. Her whole apartment was decorated by her in a vintage style that she loved and the decor was perfect for the scenery for such photos.

She sighed heavily and looked into her closet. She put on her warm, light wool socks to the middle of her thighs, a soft cream sweater that reached her buttocks, and delicate panties. She wasn't wearing a bra underneath, so her breasts were slightly visible.

She thought she looked cute. She let down her long, slightly wavy hair and sat on the floor in front of her large mirror. Behind her was her beautiful bed and a lovely white chest of drawers, a soft white rug underneath.

She made herself comfortable, leaning back against the bed, her legs bent at the knees in front of her covering what was between her thighs. She held the phone up so that it covered her face and took a picture.

She cropped it, added a filter to increase the saturation and make the whole thing a little more pastel, and it was ready. She looked again to see if there were any photos or other objects in the photo that might have identified her, but she couldn't find anything. She took a few more photos in similar outfits, uploaded them to her laptop and added them with a heavy heart, setting one of them as her profile picture.

She also fixed the price for taking pictures on request. She pointed out that there is no nudity or strange positions involved. She thought she was so demanding and restrictive that no one would want anything from her anyway. Tired and discouraged by what she had done, she simply went to sleep.

She woke up in the morning, rubbed her eyes and got up to drink water. She sat down with her glass and opened her laptop, wanting to see if anything had happened to her account. She almost choked when she saw that she had thirty new notifications. She was terrified and for a moment afraid to click on it. She finally did and started reading.

Several men paid her fixed sum for similar photos she posted. They wrote that she is gorgeous, that they would like a photo of her lying down and wearing different clothes, but leave it to her how she will solve it. She swallowed loudly as she saw several messages suggesting meeting up for sex, sending someone her socks or underwear. She paused on the last message and for a moment thought she had imagined it.

Someone had sent her more than she agreed for a single photo. He was the only one who wrote nothing. She clicked on his account out of curiosity. His profile picture was a black square. All it said was 25 years old, male. In the place where you could insert your short description it said: "Don't write to me."

She blinked, wondering what that was supposed to mean, and whether it meant that the women he orders from wouldn't write to him. She wanted to do it to tell him that he had transferred too much money to her, but she assumed that if he wrote that, then maybe he did it intentionally.

As soon as she got home after class she began to think about how to dress for the new photos. For the men who sent her the amount she asked for she wore a long T-shirt, also without a bra, the same long socks and underwear. This time she lay down on the carpet, lifted her calves slightly while lying on her stomach. She covered her face with her phone again as she took the picture.

She thought that she would come up with something special for the man who paid her more. She took her thin, translucent white robe and tied it around her waist, so that her shoulders were bare. Her legs were bare too.

She took the flowers she had bought that day in one hand, so that they covered her breasts. When she checked herself in the camera, she thought that she looked like some sensual, baroque painting. She took a photo, applied the same filters as before, and sent him the photo first.

Then she changed into normal clothes and started writing one of the essays. She felt terrible, but at the same time felt some kind of relief when she saw that the money had actually flowed into her account. She figured a few weeks and she'd be able to get the rest of the money she needed.

She saw that a dot had appeared on the app card, indicating that there was a new notification. She clicked there curiously, unfolded the list, and froze.

The man who paid more for her picture ordered another one, paying three times as much as before. Again, he didn't write anything to her. No additional requirements.

She pursed her lips as she felt her heart pounding. She thought he must be a very rich, bored young man. Or one that has no success with women. She had to appreciate that he wasn't asking her to do any perverted things.

She decided that since he was paying her so much, she had to make an effort. She might not have to take pictures for anyone else, and his assignments alone would do the trick. She pondered for half an hour what to do. She grabbed the fabric of the same bathrobe, putting it on similarly.

Now she held a beautiful ornate fan in her hand, beads of sweat adorned her bare arms becasue it was hot outside. She thought she'd zoom in on them, capturing her bare arms, the slightly exposed portion of her breast, her hand with the fan, and the portion of her mouth with her dark hair falling behind her.

After applying filters, she thought that there is sensuality, lightness and promise in this photo. If she were a man, she would like to receive such photos from her woman herself. She uploaded the photo to her laptop and sent it to him. She was very curious to see if he would like it.

She jumped in seat when she saw a message from him fifteen minutes later.

Abyss: "You surprise me."

She blinked at the screen in disbelief. She thought he never texted anyone. Apparently, that didn't work when he was talking to someone himself. For a moment she didn't know what to do. He fell from the sky and she couldn't lose him.

Ophelia: "I hope that's a compliment."

She replied briefly. No cute emoticons, no subtext, no familiarity. He didn't reply for a moment, and she wondered if she should add anything. She shuddered, when she suddenly got a notification that she had received a reply from him.

Abyss: "Why are you doing this? Pictures, I mean."

His question chilled her. She swallowed hard, feeling her heart pounding. What was she supposed to write to him? Even if she told him the truth, would he believe her?

There must have been plenty of girls who wrote, that they needed money because of an emergency, not because that was how they made a living. However, she decided that his money was saving her skin and he deserved her to tell him the truth.

Ophelia: "My father had no insurance at the time he had the accident. Neither my mother nor I knew he had lost his job. I work part-time, but it's not enough. And here I am."

She read her answer a few more times and, with a trembling hand, clicked "send". She felt like she was using him. As if they objectified each other. She pursed her lips at the thought. She drew in a quick breath when he texted back after a few minutes.

Abyss: Will he make it?

For some reason, she smiled at the screen. She knew she couldn't allow anyone to talk too privately and imagine who knows what, but she found his concern and manner to be matter-of-fact and kind. She appreciated it, and she tought that she kind of needed it right now.

Ophelia: Yes, thank you, it's very kind of you to ask.

Just a few minutes later, another message arrived.

Abyss: How far are you from the full sum?

She swallowed hard, feeling the cold sweat on her body. For some reason she felt insecure and trapped. She finally wrote him the exact number without adding anything else.

Abyss: I'll pay the full amount if you agree to go to bed with me. On your terms.

She looked at his message and after a while she started to cry. She covered her face with her hands and shook her head, wondering what she was doing.

She felt it was all wrong, terrible, that she didn't want to do it. On the other hand, she told herself that just this once would be enough, that it would be over and she wouldn't have to do anything else.

Just this one time.

She sobbed loudly, texting him back that she agreed.

She wanted him to come to her right away the next day. She couldn't mentally take it any longer, she wanted it to be over. She thought that no matter what he looked like she would be nice to him and just give him what he wanted.

She put on a dress with tiny yellow flowers that fastened at the front, so that it was easy to take off. She wasn't wearing a bra or panties underneath.

She didn't see the point in it.

She hid a condom in one of the pockets - she wasn't going to catch anything from him. She was taking birth control pills, but preferred extra protection.

She hasn't eaten anything since morning. She was sick and pale. She took a shower, sprayed on her perfume, dried and combed her long hair. She hid in her apartment all the photos and objects that could reveal her name, as well as those of her family and friends.

She heard a soft knock on her door two minutes before the appointed time. She tried to control the shaking of her body and the fear she felt. She walked over to the door, rested her forehead against it, and exhaled softly, opening the lock. She opened it and froze.

This was not how she imagined him.

He was smoking a cigarette in the stairwell, measuring her up and down. He was wearing a black T-shirt, black pants and a black leather jacket. His blond hair was partly tied back, and he looked like a pirate with an eyepatch. She saw a long scar running down his left cheek. She wondered if the lack of an eye was the reason he preferred this way of getting close to women.

Despite the scars, she thought he was a very handsome, athletic man. He raised an eyebrow, and she remembered who she was and what she was supposed to do. She stepped aside quickly, opening the door with a crack, inviting him inside. He walked in unhurriedly, as if entering a friend's apartment.

He took off his shoes while continuing to smoke. He went deeper into the apartment, as if to check that there were no third parties, and that nothing suspicious was going on. He stubbed out his cigarette in her sink.

He glanced at her finally, his face stony, his gaze intense. She swallowed hard, feeling her heart pounding wildly, her legs trembling slightly. They stared at each other in silence for a moment.

"Will you drink something?" She asked softly, her voice trembling. His gaze softened at the sound of her voice.

"Water, thank you." He spoke calmly, his voice low and sonorous, almost purring. She felt shivers go through her.

She nodded and, without looking at him, walked into the kitchen, grabbed a clean glass and poured water into it. She handed it to him, then took a few sips from her own glass, feeling her throat go dry.

He put down his half-empty glass with a loud clatter, and looked at her meaningfully, leaning against the doorframe. She swallowed hard and set her cup down as well. She smiled warmly at him and walked past him, glancing at him, nodding for him to follow her.

They went into the room where her bed stood. The man looked around, his attention drawn to the books on her shelf. He took out some of them, looked through them, and put them back. She looked at him and wondered if she should start a conversation with him. He didn't seem like the kind of person who liked to talk about nothing, she decided.

"Here?" He asked dispassionately, and she shivered. She felt herself blush with embarrassment. She was terrified.

"Yes." She said softly, lowering her lashes. He looked at her over his shoulder.

"Is this your first time?" He asked uncertainly.

She swallowed hard and shook her head.

"Good." He said calmly and took off his leather jacket, placing it gently on the bed.

He finally sat on it, leaning forward slightly, his elbows on his thighs. He looked at her intensely, his gaze roaming her body from top to bottom. She lowered her lashes, feeling his gaze burn her.

"I won't hurt you. Don't be afraid. Do it as you see fit." He said low, looking at her calmly, his gaze black. She felt subcutaneously that he wanted her and was surprised to find, that it did not repulse her.

Maybe it was because he hadn't groped her since he walked in and let her decide what it would look like.

She approached him slowly, her legs as soft as gummies. She pursed her lips, swallowing softly.

"Can I sit on your lap?" She asked quietly, her voice trembling slightly, her face red with shame.

He grunted in acknowledgment and removed his hands, straightening up a bit as he looked at her searchingly. She straddled him, her whole body trembling. He placed his large hand on her back and stroked it steadily, their faces inches apart.

"Easy. Take your time." He spoke softly. She nodded and smiled gratefully at him. She saw his mouth part slightly at the sight, and he swallowed hard himself. She placed her hands on his chest to steady herself. She raised a hand tentatively, her fingertips close to his scarred cheek.

"Can I touch you here?" She asked softly, almost in a whisper. He just nodded his head, looking away.

Her fingers traced lightly over his skin, exploring the slight indentations where there must once have been deep wounds. She wondered if those scars were the reason for his complexes and hiding on this portal. Looking at him closely, she thought that he had an incredibly beautiful, interesting face.

He closed his eye, feeling her touch. The tips of her fingers traced further, touching his chin, cheek, mouth. She felt a shiver run through him at her touch. He finally pressed his cheek against the inside of her hand, kissing her skin gently. There was something touching about the gesture, some acknowledgment that he wanted to show her respect.

She finally took his face in both her hands and leaned over him. Her lips brushed his invitingly, gently, teasing him slightly. She heard him exhale softly, his hand tightening on the fabric of her dress. His lips parted invitingly.

She caressed his lips with hers, sucking them gently, running her wet, fleshy skin over them. He moaned softly, and she shivered at the sound. Startled, she found herself getting wetter between her thighs, her nipples hardened and showing through the fabric of her dress.

He smelled of cigarettes and strong perfume, his scent made her head spin. She shivered as she felt him return her kisses timidly, his other hand grabbing her cheek gently, pulling her closer. They began to caress and suck each other's lips, tilting their heads alternately with the wet, sticky sound of their saliva, panting into each other's mouths.

Her hand slid into his soft hair, massaging his neck, and he grunted in delight. He continued to kiss her, his lips pressing greedily against hers, demanding more. She involuntarily moved closer to him. They both moaned into each other's mouths as she brushed against his hard manhood, throbbing in his pants.

"Fuck." He whispered into her mouth, his hand from her back slid down to her buttocks. He looked at her in shock when he realized she wasn't wearing any panties underneath. They both moaned helplessly as his large hand squeezed her firm skin, forcing her to speed up.

She didn't know what was happening to her, but she was full of lust and arousal. She thought with surprise that she wanted this. She leaned over him, pressing his face to hers, her tongue timidly passing over his lips.

He sighed loudly in surprise, his tongue coming out to meet hers. They were both panting, teasing the tips of their tongues and licking like two kittens. His hips pressed against the space between her thighs, making her moan softly.

Her hands went to the buttons of her dress. She began to undo them slowly from the top, their tongues dancing with each other with a wet, sticky sound. He gave her a blurry look as he saw her slip her dress off her shoulders, exposing her breasts to him.

He stared at her chest with awe and wonder. He pressed his face to the space between her breasts, kissing her top to bottom. His caresses made her feel her insides clench around nothing, her wetness running in thin rivulets down her thighs, her hips rubbing against him. She could feel him completely hard now, throbbing intensely beneath her.

A loud, unexpected moan escaped her lips as he took one of her breasts in his hand and began sucking on her nipple. She pressed his face to her chest, his hand tightening on her buttock, forcing her to speed up. They were both panting loudly, his tongue teasing and licking each of her nipples in turn.

"Feels good?" He asked in delight, his voice trembling slightly. She swallowed hard at his question.

"Y-yes, God, it feels so good" She mumbled, her hands fisted in his hair, pressing him against her breasts.

She quickly slid them down to his pants and began undoing his belt. He moved away from her and leaned back, giving her better access, helping her by undoing his button and fly. She started to reach into her pocket for a condom, but he pulled out his own, putting it on quickly and nimbly.

She rose quickly, panting softly, and pressed her forehead against his, lowering herself slightly. When she felt his tip inside her, they both moaned loudly into each other's mouths. She began to tease him by falling lightly on top of him and rising again, not pushing him inside. He writhed beneath her, thirsty and desperate.

They both leaned back and were speechless as they felt him enter her. He was so big that he barely fit in. She began to slowly ride him, panting loudly, pushing him deeper and deeper into herself. He leaned back slightly, holding her ass with one hand, staring at her helplessly, panting with her, his thighs responding to her every move with a thrust.

"You're so big." She sobbed in pleasure, pushing him all the way in, and he moaned loudly as he felt it. She leaned against his shoulders and sped up, rubbing against him where she felt the greatest pleasure, her walls pressing greedily against his cock, making him barely able to breathe.

"Fuck, you're so tight" He gasped, moving faster and more aggressively inside her, and she moaned loudly at his every move.

He finally grabbed her buttocks and turned her suddenly on her back, spreading her thighs in front of him and began to fuck her quickly and brutally, his thighs slapping again and again with a wet, sticky sound against her buttocks.

She moaned loudly, leaning back, she had never had sex with someone this intense before, beads of sweat streaming down her body, her hips responding to his every thrust. She sobbed helplessly as she felt his thumb on her clit, massaging it in a circular, intense motion, making the tension inside her unbearable.

"So wet for me. Do you like it when I touch you like that? Shall I stop?" He purred in delight, his voice trembling slightly, she felt that they were both on the verge of orgasm.

Her hands clenched the sheets around her head, her hips responding greedily to his loud, wet thrusts, filling her to the brim, rubbing where she needed it.

"No, please, touch me, touch me there" She sobbed helplessly, spreading her thighs wider for him, her nipples sticking out, hard with desire.

He moaned low hearing her words. His thumb began to caress her more intensely, pumping his cock hard into her with the wet sounds of their shared fluids trickling down their thighs. She leaned back heavily, her lips parted in pleasure.

"Oh God, I'm gonna come, please, please, please!" She sputtered, moaning loudly. She bent back suddenly, her body went through a wave of hot pleasure, moaned loudly and helplessly, she had never experienced such an orgasm before.

She felt his body begin to tremble, her insides pressing against him in waves, wanting to hold him in, he began to moan loudly along with her.

"Fuck, God, yes" He gasped, coming hard inside her, thrusting into her all the time, unable to stop.

They writhed under each other, breathing heavily, their bodies refusing to let go, clenching on each other. He stared at her half-consciously, beads of his sweat running down his shirt, his hair stuck to his face, his mouth parted. They both looked at each other as if they couldn't believe that this really happened between them.

He swallowed hard and slid out of her as if suddenly remembering who he was. She clenched her thighs, feeling suddenly empty, covering herself with her dress, trembling all over. He slid off the condom, tied it, and laid it on the floor, not knowing what to do with it.

He zipped up his pants as he got out of bed, still breathing fast. He cleared his throat without looking at her, fumbled for something in his trouser pocket. He took out a wad of bills and placed them on her nightstand.

"That's the amount we agreed on." He said lightly, his voice breaking as he said the words.

She shivered all over, feeling the cold fast on her body. She covered her mouth with her hand as she felt tears welling up in her eyes. She finally hid her face from him and nodded.

"T-thank you." She said in a shaky voice and drew in a quick breath as she felt her body convulse. She thought he'd just leave, but she heard he didn't move.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked quietly. She looked at him shocked and shook her head, continuing to cry as she buttoned her dress. She felt lonely, dirty, worn out, unowned.

"Don't mind me, forgive me for my behavior." She said quickly, not looking at him, trying to calm her trembling breath. She wiped her wet nose from crying. He was silent for a moment.

"Do you want me to leave?" He asked quietly.

She was silent for a moment. Desperately, she shook her head. She heard him swallow hard.

"What do you need?" He asked gently.

She opened her mouth, not believing she meant to say it.

"For you to hug me." She whispered, clenching herself, trembling all over.

She drew in another sharp breath as she heard him return to her bed. She felt his weight against her, saw his black T-shirt and pants, smelled his scent again.

He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. She snuggled into him like a teddy bear, burying her head into his chest. His hand tangled in her hair, the other caressing her back. She felt his heart pounding. She slowly began to calm down.

She closed her eyes as she felt him kiss her hair tenderly. She thought that she could fall asleep in the arms of this man, that she didn't even know. She cleared her throat quietly.

"T-thank you, I'm better now. I won't hold you back any longer." She whispered, but he only grunted at her words and kissed her hair again.

"Hold me for as long as you want."

_____

Oneshot written as Anon Request. I had a lot of fun writing this and I really like the end result. Let me know what you think. 💖

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @avgdusterfan @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @random-ocity @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno

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