#but more so a bottom / power bottom a lot of the time bc he finds more pleasure and power in being the thing that controls his partner’s | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

agustdiv1ne · 1 year ago

Text

telepathy (m) — cbg

pairing: choi beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: smut, strangers to ???, mind reader/telepathist!beomgyu, funeral home employee!beomgyu (it's for the plot ok???)

wc: 11.7k

synopsis: most people would abhor a packed subway car — but beomgyu, telepathist extraordinaire, relishes in it. with a career in the funeral business, he finds his morning commute to be the only thing that keeps him relatively sane. reading the mundane thoughts of mundane people maintains his tether to his humanity, but when he goes to read your mind...oh, things get a whole lot more interesting.

warnings: mdni!! 18+ only, ageless blogs dni!!!, mentions of dead bodies, embalming, and funerals (though not very descriptive — it's only bc of gyu's profession), reader is a freak that listens to nsfw audios on her way to work!, gyu is a perv so it's a match made in heaven (hell?), gyu's honestly a little strange + obsessive in this...anyways, dom!gyu, sub!mc, solo male masturbation, on my big cock beomgyu agenda, very brief mentions of daddy/sir/master kinks, explicit consent is given before anything happens bc consent is sexy <3, mind manipulation (he makes it feel like he's touching her), exhibitionism in a way (it will all make sense, trust 🙏), degradation, praise, pseudo-fingering (idk how to explain it, f receiving), gyu calls mc: pretty girl, sweetheart, slut, whore, princess, mc calls gyu sir like once...whew! that was a lot, lmk if i should add anything!

note: you know i have a terrible bout of brainrot when the warnings are all nsfw related...yeah. Yeah. *presses post and runs away*

☆ playlist ☆

masterlist

beomgyu’s commute to work is, by all means, uneventful.

the train is packed as per usual, filled to the brim with businessmen and office workers and other miscellaneous passengers on their way to whatever the hell their destination is. like most days, he finds himself towards the middle of the passenger car, snatching a rare open seat between a stone-faced man adorned in a suit — his head buried in a newspaper — and a slumped over college student nursing a cup of coffee. the poor kid almost looks like death itself, sporting dark under eyes, rumpled clothes, and a prominent slouch to his spine. not that beomgyu could really blame him; he remembers how easily college living (if you could call it living) can chip away at a person’s mental well-being.

people-watching like this is what keeps him sane, he thinks. being surrounded by corpses all day, every day is more than draining — it sucks the soul out of him, really, being the only person on shift most of the time that he’s working, having to embalm and clean and pretty up all those cold, gray bodies so that their loved ones can say one last goodbye. it’s quiet in their minds and it’s all too quiet in the funeral home, the only sounds being the clanking of the embalming tools he’s been trained to use, his footsteps echoing down the tiled halls, his sighs of contempt when something small goes wrong — yet the living, breathing, warm people on the train provide a sense of normalcy, something to look forward to every day. to hear their thoughts, as prosaic as they are, has become a sort of saving grace from the lifeless, cold building that he finds himself in five out of the seven days of the week. honestly, if he can maintain a little bit of his humanity via strangers among the subway, even if it’s just by hearing their thoughts, then he’ll take what he can get.

yeah, that’s the thing: beomgyu is a mind-reader, a pretty talented one at that. not that anyone knew, of course — he wouldn’t risk the government finding out. beomgyu is not usually one for promises, but he has promised himself one thing: there’s no way in hell that he will ever become one of the government’s sick little science experiments, even if his life ever hits rock bottom. he has no idea how his powers work — just that they do, and he would like to keep it that way. it’s bad enough that he doesn’t know where he got such abilities; his parents never mentioned anything about it and only ever grew worried whenever he read back their thoughts to them, so obviously the existence of his powers is some statistical anomaly in the universe. normal people can’t read others’ minds. he was forced to learn that at a very young age in order to keep himself safe.

“how do you know that?” he remembers his mother’s alarmed tone when he first did it unknowingly, repeating back her own thoughts to her without realizing that’s what he had done. he was maybe six at the time — innocent, curious, plagued by voices in his head that he didn’t quite understand. those voices weren’t his. rather, they were his friends’, his family’s, his dentist’s and his doctor’s and his soccer coach’s voices that ricocheted about his mind uncontrollably;it was overwhelming for the young boy’s mind. the day he first admitted that he could hear them was the first day he heard his parents argue, their yelling from downstairs colliding with their internal voices in beomgyu’s mind, their terribly poignant concern for him and this development louder than any of the venomous words that they spat at each other in the living room. all he remembers from that day was himself crying, unable to block out anything that they thought, let alone his own thoughts. too much for his young mind to handle.

he heard their fear when they took him to the doctor for the first time of many, their heartache when the doctor came back and said that he might have psychosis, but more testing was needed. he heard how they started to deny it — their little boy couldn’t have that, could he? no, no he couldn’t. there’s no way he could.

although beomgyu was young at the time, guilt ate at him. he was the one hurting his parents, he was the one making them worry. despite his official diagnosis when he was seven, something inside him knew that the doctors were wrong. those voices weren’t just the result of the machinations of his mind at work — they were voices of the people he knew, strangers who passed him on the street. what they said wasn’t evil, it wasn’t out of the ordinary. usually, it was quite mundane. at some point, he started to practice with it, trying focus on one certain voice out of the buzzing hive in his mind, blocking out the others, switching and focusing and blocking out until the action was as natural as breathing. it took him about five years before he reached that point, and after nearly two decades of living with his abilities, he’s gotten quite used to it. his mind is usually quiet — besides his own stream of consciousness — unless he allows others in. or, rather, they allow him in, which they always do. he sees it like a set of doors; open one, and you can hear that one person’s thoughts. close it, and he no longer hears them. and none of them are ever locked since no one expects to their thoughts to be read, which simply makes his life that much easier.

if he’s being honest, he didn’t used to read minds as often as he does now, but there isn’t much he can do about that now lest he go insane. beomgyu could admit that his habit was a little creepy…okay scratch that, extremely fucking creepy. these people had no idea that their minds were being infiltrated, their mental walls bypassed and their privacy violated like a computer infected with a malicious virus. it’s borderline depraved, how nonchalantly he robs these strangers of their utmost privacy, sometimes of their deepest, darkest secrets that they would never want anyone to find out about. he could sequester quite a bit of money out of some of these people, now that he thinks about it.

and sure, that may sound immoral, but beomgyu has never considered himself to be of particularly virtuous character.

without a second thought, beomgyu taps into the mind of the kid next to him. he’s thinking about how he’s failing his statistics class because he just bombed his midterm. no, now his mind is full of what he’s going to eat after his 8 a.m. class. he shifts his focus on the businessman to his right. stocks, his cheating wife, how he’s considering leaving with his mistress in the coming days…

”what a prick,” beomgyu thinks to himself, smirking a bit. just a few more stops until he gets off, now.

he pulls his phone from his jacket pocket, scrolling aimlessly just to keep his eyes busy. sitting on the opposite side of the college student, an elderly lady walks herself through the stew that she’s going to make for her grandchildren tonight, excitement coloring her words. it’s cute — he loves hearing things like that. wholesome thoughts are not easy to come by nowadays, given the state of the world. exhibit a: a teenager standing on the other side of the train car worries himself into a frenzy over whether the girl that he has a crush on likes him back. exhibit b: a middle aged man contemplates if he should quit his job. for a second, beomgyu thinks that he might be in the same boat as him, before realizing that he has nothing else to fall back on — exhibit c. he could keep going.

a clear, robotic voice overhead announces the subway’s arrival to the next station — his station. sighing, he sits up a little taller, slipping his phone into the pocket of his slacks. a vague sense of dread weighs down his shoulders, knowing that he has a service to set up for the moment he clocks in.

he’s not looking forward to today, and yet the train still slows to a stop, the doors still slide open, and he still grabs his work briefcase from the spot between his feet. like clockwork, beomgyu maneuvers through the crowd, out the doors, and climbs the stairs up to the chilly streets of seoul.

decompressing after a slow-moving shift can take beomgyu’s night in many directions. sometimes, he simply returns home and hops into bed after a long, scalding hot shower that removes the invisible layer of grime that lays heavy on his skin. other times — typically on fridays — he’ll stop by a bar and catch up with his friends, occasionally leaving with a woman hanging off of his arm if he drinks enough to lower his inhibitions. more often than not, however, his excursions at the underground bar that taehyun is partial to end in him stumbling home alone and waking up the next morning with a raging headache. nursing a hangover alone, eating breakfast alone, bathing alone…he has never really become acclimated to it. the monster that festers inside beomgyu’s chest craves for love, for connection, for somebody to hold when the nights are too dark and his thoughts match the shade of the sky. the lack of connection is slowly getting to him. is this what insanity feels like? he wouldn’t know, nor would he like to find out. he’s sane. he’s perfectly sane.

beomgyu understands that his profession can be off-putting to potential lovers, but it’s not as if he had much of a choice in the matter — not when his one shot at the career of his dreams crumbled below his feet when the company filed bankruptcy, sending him tumbling back down to earth, to the reality that his college degree meant little to nothing to the vast majority of employers nowadays. though he applied to dozens of jobs, the only one he ever heard back from was from the listing titled “mortuary assistant,” and in desperation, he accepted the position without much thought. maybe if he had tried a little harder to find a different company where he could apply his skills, maybe if he had pushed himself to make connections in the industry when he had the resources to do so, maybe if he had pursued music production a little harder, had not given up so readily when things grew difficult…maybe things would be different.

beomgyu often thinks about the maybes.

this particular night, he finds himself leaned over a bar counter, a glass of amber-hued beer in hand. he half-listens to yeonjun’s slurred account of his dance crew’s latest win while he stares down at the mahogany tabletop. some condensation has gathered on the wood, and he swipes a finger through it. a slap to his shoulder brings his focus back to his surroundings.

“gyu, dude, y’should totally try out,’’ yeonjun pitches as he sloppily swings an arm over beomgyu’s shoulders. “get out of that. that—” he stumbles over his words for a moment, expression warping into a confused grimace. “that gross ass dead people building.”

beomgyu exhales a laugh as yeonjun’s head lolls against his shoulder, quietly whining about how his head hurts. while yeonjun is substantially gone already, beomgyu is only on his second beer. scanning the spacious, dim-lit room, he shakes his head. it’s times like these where he does not feel the need to slip into people’s minds — being surrounded by his friends is enough. “nah, man. i don’t think i could keep up. it’s been a while.”

“sure y’could! you’re like th’second best dancer here!” yeonjun says as his torso slumps down against the table. the bartender eyes him from further down the bar top with concern, but beomgyu sates the employee with an apologetic smile, ensuring that he turns away before setting his attention back on his friend.

beomgyu scoffs. “and i’m assuming you’re the first best?”

“uh, obviously. i literally run th’thing,” yeonjun retorts as he glares at him with a single eye open, an ear now resting on top of his crossed arms on the counter.

“yeonjun’s right,” taehyun butts in from the other side of yeonjun’s collapsed body. though his glazed over eyes give away his inebriated state, taehyun’s tolerance tends to lean much higher than yeonjun’s; this fact is confirmed by the crystal clear enunciation of his words as he continues, “you’ve been acting differently ever since you started working there. it wouldn’t hurt to try something new.”

great, even his friends have noticed. exhaling deeply, beomgyu nods.

“yeah, i’ll think about it.”

as the conversation meanders off into other topics, beomgyu sinks back into his own little world. curse taehyun and his acute perceptiveness. he knows that he’s been acting off, but maybe his friends are right; he once dreamed of being a choreographer, back when he was a teen, before he discovered his love for music production. perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to try.

unintentionally, he meets the gaze of a girl sitting at a booth with her friends. he quickly averts his gaze, and by the time he looks back up, she has been roped into what seems like a shot-taking contest. six other girls circle the table, one joining the first girl in taking rapid-fire shots, four others egging them on, and one laser-focused on her phone, occasionally sipping water through a straw. from what he can gather, she’s likely the group’s designated driver — though it seems her role has morphed into more of a babysitter. she’s pretty, he’ll admit. just his type. if he was on his third or fourth beer, he’d probably be over there trying to strike up a conversation with her, rather than any of her drunk friends.

as she looks up and throws a cursory glance around the bar, she catches him staring, her kohl-lined eyes meeting his own. an eyebrow raises as her gloss-coated lips twist, as if to say “don’t even try it.”

oh, how terribly he wishes to slip into her mind and let her know that he has no intention to.

the ear-piercing screech of yeonjun’s barstool to his right tears his gaze away from her. yeonjun now stands, one arm around taehyun and the other around soobin, the latter sporting a borderline disgusted grimace directed at the older boy hanging off of him while kai simply stands behind the trio of men. yeonjun’s head hangs low below his shoulders, chin nearly touching his chest, as he emits a pathetic groan. at least he’s not puking this time.

“we’re about to go grab some food. this one,” taehyun’s head nods to yeonjun’s sagging frame. “definitely needs it. you coming?”

unwilling to allow the night to end quite yet, beomgyu hums, quickly pays his tab, and allows the brief, silent encounter with the woman to fade away into the back of his mind.

the rest of the weekend passes without fanfare, and monday returns to rear its ugly head once again. monday is beomgyu’s least favorite day of the week; it brings a raging headache from his 5 a.m. alarm, a bone-deep fatigue that lingers for the rest of the day. it brings grumpy commuters whose knees and elbows uncomfortably bump against his own. it brings people who think that he should give up his seat, and silently tell him so with narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows. how selfish, they all think whenever he actually bothers to read their thoughts. what a fucking dick, some of them even snarl within the so-called impenetrable walls of their minds, walls he so easily breaks down. he levels those ones with a half-awake glare, pupils gloomy and lifeless. internally, their uneasy reactions make him want to laugh, hysterically cackle in their faces because wow, is he really that scary? he shouldn’t be, but maybe the dark under eyes are doing something for him.

surprisingly, the subway car he frequents is less crowded than usual. not as many people stand in front of him, and he’s actually able to see directly across the car for the first time in a while. doors shut, and he’s left to look around at the regulars and the new patrons that often don’t show up again. they’re easily less interesting than the regulars. really, what can he say? the daily life updates satisfy his nosy tendencies.

still, he hates mondays. mondays suck. mondays make him want to crawl into a hole and eventually join the bodies at his workplace. they bring out the worst in his mind. all they do is remind him of the neverending cycle that he has trapped himself in — wake up, work, go to sleep, and do it all over again the next day.

mondays bring a lot of things he fundamentally dislikes, but this particular monday also brings you.

it’s split-second eye contact. nothing more, nothing less. your eyes grow wide, your lips parting just the slightest bit in surprise. though he has not invaded your mind (yet), he can already tell what you are thinking. fuck, he isn’t blind — he knows that he is handsome.

your eyes shoot downward, your head hanging low with your phone clenched between your fingers. one of his eyebrows raises while a small smirk plays on his lips — you’re new, and even better, you’re cute. his dark, seemingly bored gaze trails over to the earbuds nestled in your ears, then to your crossed legs. you glance up at him again, eyes blowing wide again as your thighs press together just enough for him to notice the movement. his own eyes narrow slightly, evaluating the sight.

you seem...interesting. prim, proper, sitting in a modest-length skirt and a plain blouse and coat that paint you as an unassuming character, just another random person in this sardine can of a train car. yet there’s this glint in your eyes that tells him there is so, so much more to you than what meets the eye — that the innocent, put-together little front that you display to the world is a complete and utter lie. it’s intriguing. new patrons come and go from this particular subway car every day, but you and your fresh face have caught his interest — and so has your odd behavior.

then, without warning, realization punches him square in the gut.

you were there the other night, with those girls at the bar. the one sitting at the end of the table with the small glass of water as you scrolled through your phone. the one who shot a piercing glare at him as you looked out for your inebriated friends. your current behavior is a far cry from the strong front he first encountered that night, small and oh-so meek and lacking the sharp, piercing edge to your gaze that initially piqued his interest in you. the change, for some reason, intrigues him more. what happened to that feisty glare, that confident air to your posture? he wants to know why you seem so meek, so he taps in to your mind and—

“you’re my dumb little slut, aren’t you? fuckin’ say it—”

beomgyu flinches in his seat, the door to your mind slamming shut as he sits there in shock. did he really just hear that? are you listening to fucking porn on the subway? what the fuck?

he’s never had this happen to him before. he’s accidentally stumbled upon the occasional horny thought before, sure, but listening to porn on the subway? that’s a new one. he decides to give you another glance; your lips are pressed together now, eyes pointed towards the floor as you further shrink into yourself. fuck, you’re so cute, but now he knows you’re also awfully perverted — and for some reason, he feels himself getting hard in his trousers at the thought of entering your mind again.

he should do something about this little development, shouldn’t he?

yeah, he thinks that he should. a sick sort of curiosity wins over the more logical side of his brain, the side that tells him that he should feel guilty for even thinking about what he’s about to do. he can’t, can he? no, he can — he wants to, he really fucking wants to. opportunities like this don’t just present themselves on a silver platter like this on the regular. if he doesn’t take this chance, then he’d be an absolute fool.

the subway slows to a stop, the weirdly cheery, robotic voice calling out another stop. not his, thank god. he takes this opportunity to open that pesky little door to your mind again, now fully expecting the depravity echoing in your brain — and rather than do anything drastic too quickly, he simply sits there and listens. he listens through an entire audio alongside you, ignoring the twitch of his cock as he listens to the woman be degraded and praised, in missionary and in doggy, her moans mixing with the man's in a cacophony of pleasure — he loves the way you jump when the sound of a hand striking flesh sounds through your mind. your fleeting sigh of “god, i wish that were me,” causes him to bite his lip. you like being treated like a slut, huh? like a stupid little whore only made to take cock? that’s music to his ears, really — because he likes treating girls like that too.

as sick and disgusting as it is, he continues to listen as if mindlessly tuning in to a podcast, subtly adjusting himself in his pants as he fights off a raging boner. he wants to be the one to do those things to you. he wants to make you scream and sob and beg for mercy as he completely ravages your body, fuck you until you’re brainless, perfect little slut for him. you’d love that, according to the audios you consume for the remainder of his commute — to be fucked so hard you legs give out from under you, to be owned, fully and completely. he likes that sound of that as well.

a few minutes into the second audio, you take another glance at him, eyes squeezing shut right away once you catch his gaze — and suddenly, your thoughts are full of him. he’s encountered countless strangers who can perfectly visualize their streams of consciousness, and you seem to be yet another one of them. images of you on your knees between his thighs and sucking his cock in the middle of this subway car flood his own mind, switching to one of him fucking you from behind against the wall while everyone else watches, then to him finger fucking you with a hand around your throat…what the fuck. what the fuck? how do you just do that? how do you think of such terribly shameless things while looking so pretty and demure, as if you’re a shy little thing rather than some fucking whore? he shifts his briefcase over his lap again. fuck, he’s so hard it’s starting to hurt. shit, fuck.

he should be appalled by you, but fiery, ardent lust is the sole emotion that floods his veins. would it be a bad idea to talk to you? no, you want it. you want it so fucking bad. just look at your mind — and he can make all your dirty little fantasies come true, if you would let him.

just as he’s about to actually do something about you, the subway slows to a stop once again, the same cheery voice announcing his stop. god dammit. pushing himself up to his feet, he finds that you’re doing the same, wide eyes flitting around nervously as you move towards the door and stop nearly right next to him, those earbuds that hide your biggest secret in plain sight still stuck in your ears. he can still hear those degrading words and moans and slapping sounds that still echo through your mind, loud and clear as if those white earbuds are sitting snug in his own ears.

the doors slide open, and soon enough, he loses sight of you in the surging crowd. stepping out of the subway, he looks around once, twice. you have completely disappeared; nowhere to be found, your mind has grown too far from his own for him to locate nor access, the tether between the two of you frayed to the point of snapping in half. with a brief purse of his lips, he sets off up the stairs. it’s fine, there’s always another day. it’s fine, he tells himself over and over again. there’s nothing he could have done in such a short time, anyway.

the sun sits high in the sky today, but the bone-chilling air cuts through his puffy coat like tiny needles puncturing his skin, or millions of scalpels slicing open flesh nearly to the bone, cold and sterile and far from comforting. autumn shouldn’t be this cold, and his slightly soured mood isn’t helping his case right now. he should have done something back there, he should’ve opened up the channel between the two of you and taken the plunge. it wouldn’t have hurt to try, but no. no, he let that opportunity go like every other one he’s had in his life. with his jaw set, he promises himself that it won’t happen again. it won’t, because if he keeps living like this — allowing all these opportunities slip through his fingers like grains of sand — he’ll never be able to forgive himself.

and honestly, beomgyu is no clairvoyant, and he should brush off the tickle in his brain as a stupid, naive hunch…but he has a compelling feeling that he’ll be seeing you again tomorrow.

when beomgyu returns home, the sun slowly sinking towards the horizon, he doesn’t unwind like he usually does. today’s shift was a slow one, with no bodies to preen and primp and no services to set up for, so most of his time was taken up with cleaning, filing documents, and sitting around aimlessly. no matter how much he tried to fend them off, thoughts of you bounced around in his brain for the entire eight hours he was on shift. fuck, he doesn’t even know your name, much less anything else about you, yet he wishes he could travel back in time and redo this morning all over again. he’s not sure how it would have panned out, exactly, but he has a few tricks up his sleeve that would’ve made it exciting.

he shakes his head. the current moment presents much more pressing matters than ruminating on this morning’s terrible decisions; the strain in his trousers proves to be a pertinent issue, a tent formed in the black fabric and aching to be touched. now that the public eye no longer holds his gaze, his apartment door locked shut behind him, he allows himself to give in to his most base instincts. a hand comes down to cup his hardness as he imagines his fingers as yours, you on your knees below him, those adorably wide eyes staring up at him in desperation. you’d wait for permission, right? you’d beg so prettily like a good little slut should? fuck yeah, you would. you’d be good, you’d take what he would give you — and you would love it.

groaning, he crashes onto his couch, head throwing back against the back cushion as he gropes his cock harder. he’s forgone slipping off his dress shoes and has barely even slipped his coat off before he’s giving in to the pulsing ache in his groin that’s nearly unbearable, the white hot need swirling in his stomach that demands his immediate attention. his belt quickly unbuckled and his trousers pulled halfway down his thighs, he slips his cock from his boxers, gasping at how sensitive he has become.

“oh fuck,” he breathes out into the quiet air, a shuddered sigh following when his thumb swipes over the angry red head, the bead of precum that has gathered there spreading across his skin. he brings his hand up to his lips, gathering some spit beneath his tongue before letting in loll into his palm. bringing it back down, he drags his hand up and down his shaft, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as pleasure rushes through his veins. he pumps his cock steadily, hips rolling up into his hand as if fucking your throat. eyes fluttering closed, his free hand grips the couch, fingernails digging into the worn leather and leaving half-moon indents in their wake. “fuck. god, fuck.”

would you be able to take him? he’s been told he’s big, most women barely able to take him even after extensive prep. he imagines how you’d keen as he enters you, your back arching so prettily and your walls stretching to their limits to accommodate his size. how you’d choke and gag on his cock if he decided to use your throat, tears streaming down your cheeks as you peer up at him pathetically, fingers digging into your thighs as you resist the urge to touch yourself. would you like to be slapped around a little, punished with spankings and little taps to your cheek?

“focus,” he mumbles to no one. to you. “focus, slut. be good for me.”

he’s delirious at this point, has dived so deep into his fantasies that he barely registers that he’s fucking his fist and not your mouth or sweet little cunt. that doesn’t stop his fingers from tightening their grip, squeezing the head before gliding back down again, then back up, the rhythm of his hips growing frenzied as his high inches closer. his free hand smooths up his stomach, taking his button-up with it as he clenches it with desperate fingers. he bites down on the fabric, pumping himself once, twice, three times before his high hits him, his cum spurting out in staccato ribbons. he’s making a mess, but he can’t bring himself to care when this is the best orgasm he’s had in months. the shirt falls from his mouth as he moans unabashedly.

“take it,” he groans, his hips canting upward. “fuckin’— fuckin’ take it. shit. such a perfect little whore for me.”

he cums and he cums, spilling all over himself until he’s milked dry. eyes closed, his contracted muscles melt into the couch, hot pants replacing his moans and groans. a few minutes pass before he fully comes down from his headspace and returns back to earth, only for him to realize just how much he came, staining his clothes and coating his skin in creamy white. he blinks.

reality crashes down on his head.

he just…jerked off to you. he just came so hard he saw stars just from the mere thought of you. oh, he’s in deeper than he first thought. too deep, too quickly, he can barely breathe.

“fuck,” beomgyu murmurs as he stares down at his cum-covered abdomen, his sticky hand. “fuck.”

beomgyu was right: you do come back the next day. and the next. and the next.

over the remainder of the work week, he watches you — well, more so listens to you, but he can’t deny himself the little glimpses he allows himself to take, drinking in how you worry your bottom lip, how the muscles in your throat contract each time you gulp. the poker face that you don crumbles oh so easily whenever he meets your stray gaze. it’s exhilarating, knowing the power he, a complete stranger, has over you. your microscopic slips in expression remain undetected to the rest of the passengers, but he sees every single one. they’re a perfectly entertaining backdrop for your explicit musings.

he knows he could approach you like a normal human being would, but where’s the fun in that? he’s not quite a normal person in his own right, anyway. instead, he’s decided to keep you in his sights, learning what exactly you enjoy, what you like to hear, preparing for the day where he again gathers the courage to toy with you within the walls of your mind. he’s in deep, and at this point, he’s accepted it if only to justify his sadistic obsession with you. actually, on second thought, he wouldn’t quite call it an obsession, perhaps a morbid curiosity more than anything. yeah, that’s all it can be.

it’s almost as if the universe has sent him a little present in the form of you, an apology for the trials and tribulations that whatever is above has rained down on him this past year or so. of course he’s going to savor it. who wouldn’t? so he sticks to his plan, and keeps watching you, listening to you, observing you, identifying your little quirks and deepest, darkest desires. they’ll be quite useful later, he’s sure.

over his…research period, he’s found out a lot about you. you like to be bullied, to be called a slut, a whore, but you also enjoy a little praise mixed in: good slut, good whore, pretty girl is so obedient for sir, for daddy, for master. you’re also not too picky in what you listen to, as long as it contains a male dominant in some capacity. couple’s content, threesomes, gangbangs are all on the table, as are solo audios that usually have some sort of plot to them — coworkers to lovers' first date that ends in sex? check. hot librarian who fucks over a table you after closing? that too. he could go on about what he’s heard in just the solo audios you consume, but even that list would be exhaustive.

by the time friday rolls around, he doesn’t even have to try to search for your mind; call him crazy, but it’s almost as if you, on some subconscious level, know that he wants in and are more than willing to let him. as if you keep the door cracked open just for him.

at least, he likes to think that you do.

staying close, but not too close, to you proves to be difficult today. fridays bring with them a surge of new faces that crowd the subway car, which is generally quite annoying, but at the moment, he also finds it to be frustrating. no seats are open when he boards, he can’t even see you through the dense crowd, but you’re there. your mind is there, open and waiting for him to enter.

though he won’t be able to see your cute little reactions, he steps through that mental threshold.

“it’s okay, baby. shh, don’t cry, you can cum. cum for me, just let go,” a gentle voice coos. aw, you must be having a rough morning, how sad. the only other day you listened to these kinds of audios, you looked absolutely miserable, the corners of your lips pulled down and a deep, pathetic furrow to your brows — it was wednesday, that’s right. two days ago, when you seemed frazzled and completely out of it. a little digging resulted in him learning that you had spilled your coffee all over the concrete on the way here, you thought your hair didn’t look right (even though, to him, it did, it looked perfect — he wished he could’ve told you that), and worst of all, your boss emailed you late the previous night to admonish you for your performance, demanding a meeting first thing that morning.

still, he wishes he could take care of your boss, eliminate that weight off of your shoulders. if it were up to him, your boss would be sitting in the morgue at his place of work, gray and comatose and unable to admonish you for things that beomgyu is sure you had no control over. because that’s how offices work, right? sink or swim, big fish eat the little ones, blaming those below them for everything they should be taking responsibility for. your boss has to be one of those. he was pig-nosed and donning a constant sneer when you pictured the verbal berating you’d be getting once you got to your workplace.

that day, he found himself thinking about how he’s become pretty talented with a scalpel.

“good girl. doing so well for me, pretty girl,” the same voice soothes, soft cries and sniffles from the submissive mixing with the gentle words. he could treat you all sweet too. he could be anything you want, if only you knew him.

he wants you to know him — needs you to, really.

there’s no clear cut reason for your current sour mood, your thoughts too jumbled together for him to properly decipher. are you picking apart your appearance? did you wake up late? is this all because of your boss again? he might just kill the bastard if that’s the case…if only he could approach you, tell you that everything will be okay, but he doesn’t want to knock down the house of cards he’s spent such precious time building over the course of the week. you’re too special for that. it’s the very reason why he tries to blend into the crowd, why he tries to keep eye contact to a minimum. the last thing he needs is for you to run away from him when you’re one of the only things holding him together.

when the car slows to his and your stop, disappointment nips at the space between his eyebrows. he didn’t even get to see you today, and the end of the work week means that he won’t be seeing you for two entire days. sighing, he falls into his typical routine: move towards the doors, wait for them to open, and follow the other exiting passengers out. where could you be? you’re still here, he knows that much since he’s still connected to you, still hears those soft words and moans, but where the fuck are you? you, as in your body. that you.

with a single cursory glance around, he swears he catches a glimpse of your figure before the crowd swallows you whole. as he’s shoved towards the stairs by the crowd, his chest grows heavy.

friday has just begun, but monday couldn’t come any faster.

“so, are you gonna try out?”

yeonjun is far more sober compared to last friday night, his eyes lacking that fatigued droop they always get whenever he’s had too much. beomgyu tears his glazed-over gaze away from the television screen to look at the yeonjun, sinking further into the couch below him. he points to himself. “me?”

yeonjun rolls his eyes, a knee swinging over the arm of the armchair he sits in. “who the fuck else would i be talking to?”

scoffing, beomgyu shoots him a glare. “i don’t know, man. y’don’t have to be a dick about it.”

the open bottle of beer in beomgyu’s hand chills his fingertips, so he switches it to his other hand before taking another sip. meanwhile, soobin plops down next to him with an already open bag of chips, offering some to him. he shakes his head, and soobin shrugs, beginning to munch on them by himself.

“i’m serious though,” yeonjun continues. “you should really try out. there’s not much to it, just dance to one song and you’re done. i’d probably pass you even if you sucked.”

“that’s nepotism,” taehyun chimes in from the floor, eyes trained on the screen as he shoots a player down in the game him and kai are currently obsessed with. the sound of gunfire fills the living room of soobin and yeonjun’s apartment, the murmurs of the two boys a low drone beneath it as they figure out their best strategy to win.

he almost wishes he lived here with soobin and yeonjun, or with the other two. yeonjun and soobin, taehyun and kai — only beomgyu lives alone. alone doesn’t necessarily mean lonely, but in beomgyu’s case, it does. maybe that’s why he’s latched onto you so hard: to cure his loneliness. he swats that thought away like one would a pesky mosquito. he hasn’t latched onto you, he admonishes himself, he’s simply curious. yeah, curious.

just a little innocent curiosity.

disregarding taehyun’s comment, yeonjun raises an eyebrow towards beomgyu. “i know i was drunk when i said that shit last week, but you really have been acting weird since you started at that job. we’ve all noticed.”

“yeah, it’s like you’ve gotten more reserved, or something,” soobin says, words muffled by his chewing. beomgyu grimaces, shifting closer to the arm of the couch.

“you’re the most introverted one here, you can’t say shit,” kai snorts. soobin throws a chip at his head.

“anyway,” yeonjun butts in with a scalding glare before an argument can begin. soobin and kai blanch, mouths closing. “we’re just…concerned about you.”

“is this some kind of intervention?” beomgyu laughs, disbelief apparent in his tone. he’s fine. he has you now.

“no, we just want you to know that there’s other things you could do that would make you happier than work at a fucking funeral home,” taehyun says, eyes still not straying from the tv.

“like joining my dance crew,” yeonjun tacks on.

beomgyu sighs. they’re kind of right, if he’s being honest with himself, but is he ready to put himself out there again? is he ready to face the potential of rejection, of failure? he’s had his life fall apart in front of his eyes once already, what if it happens again?

“...i guess.”

“c’mon.” yeonjun shifts around until he’s leaning on his elbows, focus solely on beomgyu. “tryouts are next saturday. i know how fast you can learn choreography. hell, you could probably learn something in a couple hours and be fine.”

“honestly, you’ll never know if you don’t try,” soobin chimes in. “it might end in something good.”

“yeah,” beomgyu says before taking another large swig of beer. “yeah, i know.”

and so another weekend passes, and monday returns once again.

soobin’s brief, sage advice plays through his mind again and again. although he understands that soobin meant for it to apply to his current career situation, beomgyu has adopted it for his situation with you instead. he should try, he’s going to try, eventually.

it might end in something good, he tells himself over and over again. he has to try.

mondays are a bit less excruciating now that you’re around. he has only known you for a week, but it’s been long enough to know that you make his day-to-day routine bearable — hell, he’ll stay at his terrible job as long as you keep showing up each morning. the day that you don’t will be the nail in his coffin — he chuckles at his stupid joke. yeonjun is rubbing off on him too much.

the sky is overcast today, and endless expanse of gray that contrasts the warmth of the changing leaves that line the sidewalk. it might rain soon, he surmises, but he hopes that it won’t. he’s forgone an umbrella today. digging his hands further into his coat pockets, he ducks into the subway station, descending the stairs and weaving through the crowd until he finds his usual platform. when he gets there, you’ve already arrived, ears vacant of those white earbuds, but it’s not a foreign sight to him. you typically put them in once you sit down. the fact that you get on and get off at the same stop as him…he almost likes to think of all of this as fate.

maybe the universe really is trying to apologize.

the subway arrives at the platform a few minutes later — minutes in which he tries not to stare at you. he’s not a creep, he swears that he’s not. he’s not a creep, he’s not a creep — he repeats this to himself as he follows behind you into the subway car the two of you frequent, he finds a seat across from you a few feet to your left. he can’t be too obvious.

and most importantly, he’s not a creep.

you dig around in your bag. ah, here come those infamous earbuds, he’s sure of it — but then they don’t, and then the digging through your bag grows a degree more frantic, your lips parting as you continue shoving whatever is in there aside in search of your most precious possession.

you feel like crying as panic surges through your veins. oh god, you forgot them. how could you have forgotten them? what are you going to do now?

beomgyu decides to tap into your mind in that moment, finding you in an unbelievably frazzled state. his heart clenches in his chest, he wishes he could help somehow…

wait. he could…oh my god, he could. no, that’s sick, he’s not a creep — well, no, he could. he definitely fucking could, and you’d probably end up liking it…

he could be your temporary replacement for today — no, he could become your constant source, the one you need to get through the day. he could become your audios. he wants to. they’d be far more…interactive, if he did, after all. you’d love what he could do to your pretty fucking body just with access to your mind. reading thoughts isn’t the only thing he can do — and soobin’s right: he’ll never know if he doesn’t try. how could he sit here any longer and not give in to his burning desire to ravage you? you know what? fuck it. this is the perfect opportunity, served up once again on a silver platter, waiting for him to take. he’s not going to let it slip away again — and oh, you just look so devastated right now, how terrible would he be if he didn’t help you?

in a split-second moment, beomgyu decides that today is the day. deep breath. focus. okay, he can do this. one, two, three…

“hello, pretty girl.”

you flinch before you look up and around, only to find no one is looking at you — well, he is, but through his peripherals. wouldn’t want to get caught, would he? suppressing a smirk at your reaction, he shifts in his seat.

“was someone just talking to me?” you ask yourself, brows furrowing as your eyes continue to dart around. your hand comes up to your ear to see if you accidentally remembered your earbuds, your frown deepening when you register that they are, indeed, not in your ears. glancing around again, your eyes skirt over his form. he shivers at the thought of what’s to come, biting his lip as he avoids your gaze. “is this some sort of prank?”

“calm down, sweetheart, this isn’t a prank. now, stop looking around, you’re the only one who heard me.”

your brain flits from thought to thought so quick he can barely keep up, the volume of them rising as you panic. your fingers clench the strap of your purse as if to ground yourself. “am i hallucinating right now? what the fuck? this has to be a prank. should i go to the doctor’s? no, my boss would kill me if i called out, but fuck, i should really go if i’m hearing things—”

beomgyu chuckles, the sound echoing through your mind as well. freezing, your muscles lock up as you look around again. your distressed stream of consciousness stops for a moment, before resuming at a much more rapid pace. “what the fuck, i need to call out right now, where’s my phone—”

sighing, he leans back into his seat and closes his eyes. so cute, how easily you spiral. “quiet that pretty little head of yours, pretty girl. you’re not hallucinating, this is all real. very real.”

a few moments pass before your internal freakout quiets down. for once, silence fills your mind…and rather than him break it, it’s you: “someone’s…talking to me through my mind? this is real?”

“such a smart girl. you figured it out so quickly,” beomgyu taunts, resisting the urge to coo again. adrenaline rushes through his veins, urging him to continue. you need him. he can make you happy. he just needs to hear you say it.

your thighs press together at the praise, fingers digging into the trousers you had chosen to wear. you shouldn’t be feeling like this. this is strange, terribly strange, and even a little frightening, now that you are aware that someone — that a complete stranger, at that — has full reign over your conscious. yet, at the same time, you’re curious to see how this will play out.

“and you can speak to me, too, if you focus hard enough…” his voice trails off. okay, you can do that. allowing your eyelids to flutter shut, you begin to breathe deeply until even the mechanical noises of the subway and the murmurs of passengers vacate your senses. mind empty, you exhale a shaky breath. focus. stay focused.

“hmm, impressive. you’re a natural at this.” god, he needs to quit praising you like that with his deep voice. by the way he laughs, you know he heard that too. fuck.

“who are you and why the fuck are you in my brain?” you decide to ask. straight to the point, no fluff to it, it’s reminiscent of your attitude at the bar where he first laid eyes upon you. this is the wall you put up towards strangers and any other threat to your life, but little do you know, beomgyu’s breached that wall already. this is just a little front. “answer me, you fucking asshole—”

“woah, woah, watch the language. why would i tell you who i am? it’s much more exciting this way, don’t you think?” the smile in his voice is unmistakable, but he purses his lips to keep them from curling upward.

you start to gnaw on your bottom lip, biting hard enough for pain to bloom across your nerve endings. this is stranger you’re talking to right now, a stranger who you’re talking to through your fucking thoughts. this is weird. you never signed up for this. “get the hell out of my mind before— before i—”

“before you what? can’t kick me out, you don’t know how to do that, pretty girl.”

fuck, he’s right — wait, if he’s in your mind right now, can he also control it? is he going to hurt you? is he going to make you his puppet and go on a murder spree? is he in this car with you, or somewhere else? what if…what if…

beomgyu can almost feel your panic swelling in his own chest. fuck, he needs to put a stop to your spiraling before it gets out of control. if you freak out now, then all of his work over the past week will be for naught. after all, he’s not going to do anything without your permission. the last thing he wishes to do is scare you off completely before he can have his fun. with great urgency, he cuts off your ramblings, “hey, now, relax for me, princess. i’m not going to hurt you. i’m as human as you are, just a bit…different, i guess. and i am in the same car as you right now.”

rather than respond, you look around again, eyeing every single man around you with suspicion, even him. he stares at the floor, maintaining what he hopes to be a neutral, borderline bored, expression. he needs to keep it together. he’s gotten this far, he can’t ruin this. “looking around again, huh? if i were that easy to spot, then this game wouldn’t be very fun, would it?”

“game? fucking with my mind is a game to you?”

the corners of his lips twitch up before he’s forcing them back down. this is it, the moment he has been waiting oh so patiently for. keep it together.

“well, not really — i actually have a proposition for you, if you’d hear me out.”

scoffing, you urge him along. “just get on with it.”

“so impatient. that’s okay. i can work with that,” he smirks. “i know what you listen to every morning, you know.”

your heart drops to your stomach. he what? oh god, you think you’re going to be sick. your arms wrap around your stomach, squeezing hard. this is bad, this is really fucking bad. “do you want money, or something? are— are you trying to blackmail me right now? i’ll have you know, i’m actually kinda broke right now. i really don’t wanna end up homeless, can you just. pick someone else to fuck with? there’s like twelve different businessmen in this car, i’m sure they’re rich and corrupt—”

beomgyu’s brows raise imperceptibly. jesus, are you always this flighty? “woah, chill. i’m not here to judge you — or blackmail you, for that matter. i’m not evil. aw, don’t look all shameful now. i told you i’m not here to judge — i actually wanna help you, if you’d let me.”

“help me?” you dumbly echo. “help me how?”

“well,” he starts. “i noticed you forgot your earbuds today, and you just looked so sad and lost without them. how else are you going to get through your commute? and then i thought maybe i could do something about that. y’know, help you out, get you through the morning.”

“so you invaded my privacy just to tell me that you wanna dirty talk to me for the rest of my commute? is that what you mean? ‘cause if so, that’s pretty weird,” you reply, though your stray thoughts that dart around tell him that you’re actually considering his offer — it’s tempting, isn’t it? to give in, to let his deep voice get you all squirmy and needy, knowing he could be anyone in this subway car. still, your words make him laugh, because of course you’re deflecting right now. it’s okay, he hasn’t given you the full story quite yet.

“that’s only part of my offer, princess,” he starts. “i can read minds, yes, but i can also do…other things.”

oh, you’re really considering it now. maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let him. his voice is nice, and maybe, just maybe, it’s kind of making you horny. after a deep, long breath, you gulp once, then, with curiosity dripping from your tone, you ask, “...like what?”

jackpot.

beomgyu’s high on a mix of adrenaline and dopamine, utterly giddy because he’s got you right where he wants you, where he needs you. he’s played his cards just right, shoved your worries to the side and drew out your curiosity enough that you’ve taken his bait. perfect, oh, this is perfect. he knew you’d be good for him.

“it would be much easier for me to show you.”

“then show me,” you immediately reply, heat flooding your cheeks at the sheer desperation in your voice. god, calm down. he hasn’t even done anything yet.

chuckling at your internal conflict, he decides not to comment. “tell me if you don’t like something. i’ll stop.” he watches as you slightly nod to yourself, a soft “okay,” echoing through your head and into his — thus, he sets his plan into action.

something warm caresses your calf, but when you look down, there’s nothing there. your eyes widen — was that a hand? it definitely felt like one, the way it creeped up the back of your leg, calloused fingertips pressing into your skin. a shiver races down your spine. that had to have been him.

“it was,” he confirms, then his voice is growing impossibly deeper, adopting that gruff edge that you love so much. “you want more, princess? i can give you more.”

another phantom hand skirts over your waist, dragging down over your hips to your right thigh, just to stop there. biting your bottom lip, you nod, hoping that whoever is in your head right now sees it, wherever he is. the hand moves to your inner thigh; despite how tightly pressed together they are, it skirts over your skin with ease, seemingly beneath your trousers. “i need words, pretty girl, or i might just stop right now. and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

no, you wouldn’t, not at this point. the unbearable ache currently building in your core makes you want to cry; you haven’t felt this level of desperation in a while, and you need to be touched. you need it so fucking bad.

“please.” the single word comes out meek, quiet. shame flushes your face, a fiery heat that spreads up to your ears and down your neck.

you hear the way his breath shudders, causing your own hitch. “fuck, you’re so cute, but i need more than that. beg. beg for me to touch you.”

his voice — fuck, his voice is so deep, so dark and wanton. you wonder what he sounds like when he’s moaning, how he would sound if he fucked you, pounded you into the mattress so hard you saw stars. the image of a faceless stranger fucking you from behind, your back arched behind you and your face buried in the sheets, as he holds your wrists behind your back flits across the big screen of your mind. you shake it away, but the man in your head is already tutting. “use your words, sweetheart, not pictures — though i’d love to do that to you too. you’ve got quite the imagination on you.”

beomgyu’s cock twitches in his boxers as you whine, frantic pleas bubbling up from the deepest, darkest recesses of your mind once he takes the sensation of his hand away from your thigh. you sound halfway dumb already, begging for his hands, his cock, his tongue — anything. you’ll take anything just, “please, sir. please touch me. need you to touch me so bad.”

you don’t even know who he is, yet you’re being so obedient, calling him sir, begging so sweetly for him — it’s like you’re begging straight into his ear. his heart swells at the thought, as does his cock. you sound so pretty, but he finds himself wishing he could hear these words come from your lips instead.

“yeah? my little slut needs more?” he prods, laughing meanly when you whimper out a yes. “aw, ‘course she does. desperate whores always need more, don’t they? so greedy.”

you have to swallow down a whimper at that, focusing so intently on keeping quiet that your nails have dug into your palms deep enough to almost break skin. the pain seems to help keep you grounded — that is, until you feel the sting of a palm against your backside. you flinch in your seat, gasping sharply. the man sitting next to you glances over, but you only hang your head and shrink into yourself. he looks away.

“focus, whore. you’re drawing too much attention to yourself.”

two hands are touching you now. one cupping your pussy, the other wrapped around your throat, pressing into the sides of your neck so you start to grow dizzy. the hand on your throat releases its grip to slide down to your chest, circling around one of your nipples before a thumb swipes over the pebbled flesh. your back arches off of your seat when the sensation morphs into that of lips, plush warmth enveloping your tit before the sharp bite of teeth interrupts. you inhale a shaky breath from your nose as lips return to soothe the sting. despite the hard press of your thighs, the hand on your pussy drags up and down your folds, dipping down to your entrance before dragging up to your clit. a tiny squeak sneaks up your throat before you’re masking it with a cough.

“aren’t you just a sensitive little thing? so wet too,” he coos, shifting his briefcase over his lap to gain some semblance of friction. his fingertips tingle as if your wetness coats them right now. fuck, he’s hard. if it were up to him, you’d be taking his cock right now, moaning so prettily as he presses you up against the wall and fucks up into you, your legs giving out from under you because he’s just making you feel so good, isn’t he? never mind that, he has a job to do. “how about i just…”

two lithe fingers breach your walls while a thumb continues to slowly circle your clit, barely brushing over the sensitive bundle of nerves. you feel like you’re going insane, trying your best to hold still as his fingers begin to move inside you, curling up into your walls. searching, he’s searching for that spot inside you that will get you crying—

then he finds it.

your knee jerks up, your legs falling open slightly before you’re pressing them closed again as he abuses it over and over again, crooking his fingers just right to find it with each thrust. your hips roll up into the sensation, stilling as soon as you realize that you’re squirming too much, being too obvious. people are starting to stare, calm down. calm the fuck down.

god, you don’t think you can. it’s too difficult to keep still with the way he’s finger-fucking you right now. with the way there’s lips suddenly circling your clit, sucking the pearl in so that his tongue can play with it. little kitten licks that make you want to scream and cry and beg for mercy because you don’t know if you can keep up this front of normalcy with the way he’s touching you.

it’s like he’s speaking directly into your ear right now, warm breath fanning over your earlobe, your cheek. “wanna see you fall apart, wanna see you lose it in front of all of these people, baby. bet you wanna cum right now, yeah? just wanna feel good, don’t even care if you quake and cry in public? you’re that fucking desperate for it?”

you nod to yourself, eyes squeezing shut. you’re so close. oh god, you’re going to cum. you’re going to cum like a brainless whore in the middle of a fucking subway car. you’re sick. you’re fucking sick for enjoying this.

you’re just as bad as him, beomgyu decides. he knew you’d like what he could give you, he knew you needed him. it was just a matter of time before you realized that fact. that’s okay, because he needs you just as badly. it’s a carnal need, white hot in the center of his stomach — fuck, he’s obsessed with you. he wants you to be his forever.

and beomgyu knows you’re close, but he’s not quite ready to give you what you want.

“please, oh god. please let me cum. fuckfuckfuck— no, please don’t stop!” you cry as he slows the pace of his fingers. “please no, ‘m so close! no no no—”

“you drive me crazy, it’s only fair if i return the favor. makes it more fun.” ripping the sensation away from you completely, he watches you bottom lip tremble as you blink back tears, your body melting into your seat as the pleasure fades away. “now, now, don’t cry, sweetheart. i have something even better for you.”

a few seconds pass before something breaches your entrance, your walls stretching to their limit, yet the sting of pain never arrives. filled to the brim, you throw your head back against the window behind you. to others, you seem to just be resting your eyes, but the way your mouth falls open is not lost on beomgyu. he knows you can feel him everywhere, knows you can feel the way the head of his cock nearly touches your cervix, how it presses into every single sensitive spot inside you. he knows he’s big, but you take it like a champ, your hips grinding down into the seat, as if to bring him deeper inside you. what a little whore, his little whore.

“y’feel that, pretty girl? feel my big fucking cock inside you?” he asks as your chest heaves, a feeble attempt in holding yourself together. “calm down, now. i’m gonna start moving, okay?”

he doesn’t wait for your response before he’s spoon-feeding you the sensation of his cock pulling out until nothing but his cockhead remains within your walls. a few seconds pass, then your begging returns. tearful, this time, fucking pathetic. he basks in the power that rushes through his entire being. you need him. you need him in order to feel good, and he loves that you do. he brings a hand down to adjust himself in his pants, hissing quietly at the ache that the action brings. he needs to fuck you right now. physically fuck you, none of this thought manipulation bullshit — but no, he has to be patient. he can be patient as long as it’s you.

the subway is slowing down again, and he comes to the gross realization that he only has a few minutes before both of you must depart. dammit, he has to make this quick.

meanwhile, you’re already halfway to your high just at the mere feeling of him inside you. as soon as his cock begins to move again, you’re choking back moans, head hanging low as your muscles tense and your hands press into your lap. you can feel him in your throat each time he thrusts back in, his thrusts growing faster and faster until he’s pounding into you.

“fuck fuck fuckkkkk!” you wail, encouraging him to continue. in reality, your walls clench around nothing, but your mind paints a different picture. you almost beg for him to cum inside, but you cant find the words, too fucked out to think about anything else but the knot in your stomach that grows tighter with each passing second. “fuck, please. please, fuck i’m, nghh—”

imaginary fingers swipe across your clit, and you’re a goner.

thighs quaking, your release coats your panties, walls fluttering, but the movement of his cock doesn’t stop until you’re begging for mercy. beomgyu almost cums in his pants at the depraved wails you emit, half-baked sentences pleading for him to “s-slow down, please. i can’t, no, i can’t — shit!”

finally — finally — he grants you reprieve from the onslaught of pleasure. your body slumps into your seat, your eyes shut as you begin to float back down to earth. the clack-clack-clack of the subway slows until it stops completely. the usual robotic voice announces his stop, but you seem so out of it that you don’t even register that you need to get off.

“good job, baby. you put on quite the show for me,” he praises as he rises to his feet. luckily, he decided on wearing a longer coat today which he uses to cover up his raging hard-on. this has to be fate.

no response. with an excited gleam in his eye, he disconnects from your mind and moves towards you. looming above you, he drinks in the beads of sweat that have formed along your hairline, the wrinkles in your trousers where you gripped the fabric a wee bit too hard, your dreamy eyes and how they blink down at his black loafers before raising to meet his own. concern has painted itself across his features, his head tilting as he holds your bleary gaze.

“are you alright, miss? you look a bit ill.”

you blink once. twice. god, how are you so cute even after getting fucked so hard? he can barely control himself from blurting out who he is.

“what—what stop is this?” you ask him, eyes wide and red-rimmed from your earlier tears. he tells you, and he watches those same eyes widen. “oh shit, this is my stop!”

attempting to stand, you stumble straight into his chest. he catches you with gentle hands before he’s helping you steady yourself. your legs tremble like those of a newborn fawn, sexy yet terribly adorable. he gulps at the image of you unable to walk, legs so sore that you’re forced to let him dote on you, that forms inside his mind. later. that can come later, don’t get too hasty.

“oh, you’re a bit shaky there,” he murmurs, a hand curling around you elbow when you stumble again. “are you sure you’re alright?”

“i’m f-fine, sorry for the trouble,” you reply with a polite, yet jittery, smile, stepping away from him. he wants to tell you to come closer again, he wants to smell your sweet perfume again, feel your warm skin beneath his fingertips.

but good things come to those who wait.

“no worries.” with a charming smile, he shuffles beside you, until the two of you have exited with the rest of the crowd. he catches your wrist before you can get too far, and you turn to face him once more. afterglow looks wonderful on you. “it looks like we’re getting off at the same stop today, so would you like me to walk with you until you’re feeling a bit better? i’m sure some fresh air will do you good.”

you pause for a moment, hesitating. have you seen him somewhere before? you feel like you have. “i��that would be great, actually. thank you.”

“of course,” he nods, holding back a smirk. he can’t help the words that escape him next.

“lead the way, then…pretty girl.”

the way you look back at him with alarmed realization — even a hint of fear — causes a grin to split open his lips. you begin to sputter as you back away, but he merely follows with light, casual steps. “w-what, who—who are you—”

his smile grows knife-sharp. the door opens — it always does.

“aw, c’mon, sweetheart,” he coos inside your mind, biting his lip as he watches your knees buckle. “who else could it be?”

#txt smut #beomgyu smut #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt imagines #beomgyu imagines #txt x you #txt x y/n #beomgyu x y/n #beomgyu x you #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #💌 — gyu #agust.nsfw

2K notes · View notes

erzva · 2 years ago

Text

⟡ sex with the batboys hc ⸜⸜ jason tim dick

Jason

bisexual switch

leans more towards women and bottoming/being submissive

no preference for subbing or domming when he’s with a man. he mostly likes when both of you can just switch and there’s no real power dynamic

PRAISE KINK. not only is he a fucking leo but he also has a lot of emotional issues and trauma that led to him developing a praise kink. pls just tell him he’s doing a good job and that you’re proud of him, it’s all he wants to hear

he doesn’t like being aggressive or violent and isn’t into anything degrading etc.

in fact, he hates men who are violent towards women during sex

no choking no slapping. he hates it. he finds it vulgar

hates blindfolds and being tied up due to trauma. and he won’t do it to you either

very ‘vanilla’ so just normal

just bc he’s vanilla doesn’t mean he can’t be rough and fast. he’ll fuck you good dw. or he himself wants to get fucked rough and fast.

if he’s with a woman you best believe her pleasure comes first.

definitely a service/pleasure dom when it’s a woman. but he also likes being submissive with women. body worship. just makes sure you’re taken care of and he loves doing it.

eating you out is relaxing to him. he loves having you ride his face or just being able to bury his face in your cunt after a long day and being surrounded by your smell

giving you head also makes him incredibly hard. he can’t help but pump his cock while you’re riding him and moaning into your pussy. or humping the mattress in the same rhythm his mouth is moving

he loves making out and foreplay such as making out and kissing your neck and ears. he loves how content and relaxed you look and sound and how desperate you get for more

he’s very vocal & loud. it’s all too chaotic in his head and his emotions for him to be reasonable. when he’s desperate he just starts blurting out anything that’s on his mind groaning and whining.

he loves it when you tug on his hair. it makes him roll his eyes and moan. there’s just something about it

besides his name and the usual pet names he likes getting called good boy and puppy. “such a good boy, you’re doing so well” “you’re such a good puppy for me, sweetie”

he likes rubbing himself on you. just bodies pressed against each other and desperately rutting his hips against your body. something about it is just very erotic to him. probably the desperation (a/n: i’m a firm believer in desperate!jason)

he either wants to really take his time and have gentle, passionate, sensual, erotic sex or- you or him domming the other with a lot of dirty talk and orgasms

Tim

also a bisexual switch but leaning more towards men and being a bottom

not into anything heavy or bdsm at all. very vanilla. surprisingly, he does really like food play though.. something about it is erotic to him and it’s fun

just covering some of your body parts in something delicious and licking it off

loves it when you ride him and he’s just able to relax and look at you

he is chronically tired bc of his lifestyle so he likes not having to do much during sex and prefers bottoming and normal positions

wants you to take care of him

really likes gentle touches during sex. he often takes one of your hands and puts it on his cheek for you to hold and caress him

loves it when you’re on top of him with your front pressed against his, your lips pressing light kisses against his ear and neck while he’s thrusting up inside you/you’re thrusting inside him

let’s out quiet desperate high pitched whines and moans and breaths

he wants to hug a lot during sex. just as much touch as possible

Dick

bisexual switch with a dom lean. likes women and men the same amount.

also a praise kink. mainly bc of trauma ofc but also bc he has a big ego

he would never deny praise. or physical touch. especially from his s/o

he‘s very mischievous and loves attention. so it didn’t surprise you when you got together with dick grayson and he started being handsy in public and in front of others. he didn’t care if ppl saw all the pda, in fact, he liked it. he likes showing you off to other ppl and he likes it when ppl see that you‘re his.

he can be really insecure so having other ppl see that you’re with him makes him feel good

loves giving you head in risky places ex: on rooftops while he’s out on patrol, in bedrooms at galas etc. not really public places but places where the chance of getting caught is high. it’s just really arousing and fun to him and again: having other ppl see that you’re with him makes him feel good abt himself

he loves it when you’re loud and he’ll do anything to draw a sound out of you

he’s very vocal and he’s cocky abt it

when he gets jealous or somebody flirts with you he kisses you with tongue in front of them for a few seconds. you will be having sex that night. and he’ll make you cum multiple times, starting with a handjob, then giving you head twice before the penetration starts

…

1K notes · View notes

tangerinesgirl · 7 months ago

Text

Pull Some Strings

** SPOILERS FOR ABIGAIL (2024) **

Fem!Reader x Frank/Adam Barrett (Abigail)

Word count: 1.1k

Rating: 18+, explicit

Warnings: smut, denied orgasm, GodComplex!Frank, JOI, degradion, Frank swearing a lot (as usual), pet names, vaguely non con if you squint bc mind control

Summary: You've been flirting with Frank the entire evening. He tests his new vampire powers and turns you into his puppet. Things get freaky.

Notes: this seems too good to not have been done before, I did have a search beforehand so I'm sorry if it does exist! We need more Frank smut ASAP! Also, reader has nipple piercings in this and there's use of Y/N.

You jump awake with a burning hot pain in your neck. You reach to touch the wound but you find nothing there. Memories start to play in your mind, how Frank willingly accepted the offer to be turned into a monster, while you sat on the floor helpless. You were heartbroken that he could turn into a traitor like that, after the two of you fighting so hard together, but the other part of you couldn't keep your eyes off him, seeing him covered in blood, moaning as Lambert gave him his new life. You watch in horror as he stakes Lambert through the heart, you try to grab the shelf behind you to get up, but Frank stamps on your arm, breaking it instantly. You scream as he pulls your hair, exposing your neck to him.

Frank whispers in your ear, "I'm going to make you my puppet, and we're going to have a little fun". You whimper as he pecks a little kiss on the side of your mouth, and dives his teeth into your neck. You can feel yourself getting colder, your body twitching as you loose consciousness.

"Y/N....you are mine"

The sound of Frank's voice lures you back awake. You're in a bedroom somewhere, but you can tell you're still in this god forsaken house. "Oh good you're awake". You look around the room instinctively trying to find the source of the voice.

"What's going on?"

"Keep up sweetheart, did you not pay attention to what happened to Sammy? Or were you too busy trying to get me to fuck your brains out?"

Your mind jumps back to how you flirted playfully with Frank the whole evening. The car ride where you were zipping your hoodie down to make your breasts pop out. When you brushed past him to open the door. The way you would look at his lips, and chew the bottom of yours every time he gave the crew orders. You found him very attractive, and the dominance was a huge turn on for you.

You sit next to him at the bar in the house, "You know, I'm very much into the hot boss scenario". Your hand brushes against his as you reach for your drink. In a split second, Frank pins your hand to the counter and grabs your neck with the other one, "You're really going to flirt with me when we have bigger fucking problems right now?"

Everyone in the group stares at you as you go bright red from embarrassment. You decide to roll with it, liking how agitated Frank is getting at your advances. Afterall you've nothing to loose, no one will know your true name after this. You moan loudly with a "oh yes, harder daddy". Frank lets you go in disgust. He spits out a "fucking whore" under his breath. You hear him and giggle, "only for you" and blow him a kiss as he walks away.

Your mind snaps back to reality. "I know how you like being told what to do, and I'm curious to see if this actually fucking worked first time... So...Frank says, take off your hoodie". You immediately unzip your hoodie without a moment's thought, "What the fuck?"

"Frank says undo your bra". You do as he says, part of you is very much into him finally reciprocating what you've been putting down the whole evening, even in these circumstances.

"Frank says play with your nipples". You moan as you grab your breasts and tug gently on your nipples.

"Wait I can feel something cold...do you have piercings? That's fucking hot... Frank says undo your belt". The belt clinks to the floor, you can somehow tell that Frank is doing the same, wherever he is.

"Frank says undo your buttons". You unzip your jeans, and dip your hand in further, you can feel the wetness growing in your underwear as you try and find some kind of friction.

"Frank says stop. Frank didn't say to do that now, did he?"

You shake your head.

"Use your words"

"No"

"No what?"

"No sir"

"Good girl. Now. Frank says to circle your fucking clit. Slowly"

You moan softly, it's painful for you not to do anything else right now.

"Frank says stop"

The slow orders are making you impatient, you need more of a release, "please".

"Please what?"

"I need more"

"Then you fucking wait"

You can feel Frank playing with his cock, it pains you that you can't see, but you can feel him growing hard, the pre cum on his hands. You can even hear his subtle moans as he palms himself.

"Frank says dip your index finger into your pussy".

You sigh in relief as your hand finally enters you.

"Frank says insert another finger"

You fuck yourself open, Frank can hear the sound of your wetness and swears under his breath.

"You sound fucking soaked, the sound of my voice gets you this wet huh? Now...play with your clit".

You start to do so and Frank laughs, "Frank didn't say "Frank says" now did he?"

You cry out in agitation, "Frank please".

"Nah ah, what do you call me?"

"Sorry, sir"

"That's better baby. Frank says touch your clit"

You can feel yourself getting closer, Frank can too. "I'm going to cum Fr-sir, please can I cum?".

"Frank says stop"

"No!" You whimper as you pull your hands out of you. Denying you of your orgasm makes Frank's come quicker, the power over you as well as being a newly turned vampire makes him feel like a God. He takes off his shirt as he starts to cum on his chest. You can feel the hot liquid on your chest too. Your hands feel around but there's nothing there. You're really pissed off, but still very much aroused. Frank moans as he continues to empty himself on his chest, it seems to last forever. As he finally comes to a stop, he lets out one last big moan. "Do you want to taste?"

Part of you wants to give him the silent treatment for the way he just used you, but you say "yes sir" like the good puppet you are.

Frank takes a finger of his cum off his chest and wipes it on his lips. He licks it up with his tongue. You can feel the taste slowly seeping into your mouth, you bite your lip and swirl your tongue around, lapping up every invisible drop. It's salty, with a hint of iron, but oddly creamy at the same time.

"I think that was a pretty successful test, wouldn't you say, Y/N?"

You finally find your backbone after Frank and his stupid voice turned it into mush, "Fuck you".

"Oh I will, right after I kill me a vampire"

#frank x reader #frank (abigail) x reader #fanfic #abigail #movie #dan stevens #adam barrett #adam barrett x reader #horror #vampire #frank abigail #frank #abigail 2024

273 notes · View notes

gale-dekarios · 5 months ago

Note

Favorite thing about Gale Dekarios?

it's embarrassing how long i spent sitting with this trying to think about my all time favourite thing about gale, because there's so much. i like that he's a dork, and sickeningly sincere, and i like that he's a cook, that he loves his not-a-cat, and that all he'd need to complete the ultimate wizard stereotype is a pointy hat and long grey beard.

but when it all boils down to it, i love that he's willing to try, after all of it. he, out of all the companions, probably fucked up the most. and i dont necessarily mean hes in the most fucked up position, i dont think you can really compare what the companions are going through as individuals like that, what i mean is that to go from the lover of mystra, an archmage, quite possibly one of the most powerful people in the sword coast if not the whole of toril, to a dude you have to pull out of a malfunctioning portal, an embarrassing footnote in a goddess's history, about to die, from the orb, or ceremorphosis, or just generally being out in the wilderness as a level one wizard likely for the first time in his life ever, well, it's a lot isn't it?

the only person who could come close to understanding that level of a drop is perhaps wyll, but then again, wyll didn't so much as fall as he took a leap that he knew would end poorly for him, not to mention that wyll was seventeen. not that he'd likely make another choice now that he's older bc he's wyll, but gale, at least from his perspective, can't hide behind the greater good, or youth, from what he did.

gale's at rock bottom, and he doesn't have karlach's cheer to make up for the fact that he's dying, tadpole or no.

there's no way i would be able to keep going after all of that. id find a large field in the middle of nowhere and wait until the end comes for me. but gale doesn't. he keeps going, even though he's pretty sure he's going to die and it's all futile anyway, he keeps going. and he makes connections, despite the fact it could all be snuffed out in an instant. he goes through what's possibly the world's most messiest break up, one that quite literally is going to kill him, and yet when he's told he can redeem himself, to make the embarrassing footnote into a noble one, all it takes is you asking him to live for him to throw all of that aside, his entire past, everything he ever worked for, for the idea of a future that might not ever come. and he doesn't even need to be in love with you for him to agree to that.

he wants to live anyway. no matter how much more difficult is. no matter how unsure he is that he's actually got anything to go back to. he has a tara, and wine, and food, and books, and quite possibly the weirdest band of people he's ever met, and he decides THAT'S enough. sure, the ideas of something greater never fully leave the edge of his psyche, but again, if you ask him to, if you show him life's worth living, he'll then give up actual godhood just so he can keep tara curled in his lap, the taste of good food and wine in his mouth, the feeling of paper under his fingertips, and a room full of love and laughter, in whatever capacity that may be.

it's hard to condense all of that into one word, into one attribute, so i guess what i'm trying to say is that my favourite thing about gale is that he's alive.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #the tomes #baldurs gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #bg3 gale of waterdeep #gale bg3 #bg3 gale dekarios #baldurs gate #baldurs gate gale #baldurs gate iii #bg3 meta #answered #anonymous

168 notes · View notes

z0mb1epuzzy · 10 months ago

Text

Vox relationship hcs !! SFW & NSFW (Gender Neutral)

SFW:

Warnings: Val mentioned. (joking)

- Vox is obviously a guy who needs some validation, he won’t admit it - but the second you tell him how handsome he looks or how good a job he did on the air that day, you notice his mood is overall… better.

- Naturally the other V’s will still be involved in Vox’s life. Velvette adores you, probably treating you like a friend who just happens to be dating her coworker more than anything. Valentino seems relatively indifferent, he tried his little flirting routine once or twice, but the second Vox snapped at him for it (Yk that scene where he gets all up in his face and says “VAL”? yeah, that type of snap) he backed off, promising you some “good work” if things didn’t work out between you and vox.

- In terms of your actual relationship, the parts that go on behind closed doors and whatnot, he’s a lot softer than one may expect. Once he drops the whole “hotshot celebrity overlord” act, he’s shockingly.. sweet? He secretly enjoys just spending time cuddling you. (his head on your chest? your head on his? he honestly doesn’t mind either way.)

- If he ever catches you eyeing something in public, he always finds a way to get it for you. You mention a shirt you thought was cute? Suddenly he’s bringing you home said shirt in a nicely wrapped little box. He calls it a “lucky coincidence.” (all he wants is to make you happy, so a couple hundred dollars in whatever knickknacks make you smile is nothing.)

- still not over the alastor thing.

NSFW: (the part you’re probably here for)

Warnings: NSFW (ofc), vibrating dick?, semi public, oral, some little sprinkles of power bottom vox, masochism(?)

Kinks - masochism (biting, scratching, whatever), dacryphilia (loves fucking you to tears bc i said so), DEGRADATION (giving, not receiving), praise (mutual), semi-public, maybe some temp play?

- Oh, your poor holes. all of them. The second this man gets off work and you hear him grumbling under his breath? just know you’re probably gonna have jello legs for a few hours (minimum.)

- Vox probably has a pretty high sex drive, not quite as high as someone as angel, but after a tough day at work, dealing with whatever bullshit man - tantrum val had, having some kind of annoying glitch with his systems, whatever is enough to irritate him.

- If you ever come and visit him on one of those days, thinking it would be a fun idea to visit him at work and maybe tease him a little, just prepared to be fucked over a desk or against a wall. he has no patience.

- If you’re someone with fem reproductive bits, be prepared because sometimes this man does NOT have the patience for a condom. (pullout game is awesome though, so that’s a plus)

- on a good day, a day where he gets to spend his time with you alone, no work or distractions, he will take his time with you. On days where he can take his time and go nice and slow with you, running his nice sharp fingers over your thighs, (maybe using some of that electricity to give you little shocks…if you’re into that) telling you how beautiful (or handsome ofc) you are, just really nice foreplay…. before you’re inevitably destroyed by his cock. (and yes, it vibrates.)

- PRAISE+DEGRADATION. “You’re such a good fucking slut for me, you know that?” or “My good fucking whore.” type shit

- He’d absolutely love receiving head, though… for obvious reasons GIVING it may be a bit complicated. When you give it though, vox WILL melt for you, groaning and cursing under his breath, when he gets close he can’t help but grab your head and face-fuck you, pulling you off his cock last minute to release onto your face (if you’re okay with that - he’s fine with your mouth too.)

- This man is fully willing to pound the everliving soul out of you if you’ll let him, but if you ever decided to take control for a night…. he’d act opposed, but you can see the intrigue on his face. (definitely ends up blue-screening) when this man is on the bottom he gets LOUD, though he’d probably get pissed off and take control again if you teased him enough.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #vox smut #hazbin smut #hazbin #hazbin alastor #hazbin valentino

307 notes · View notes

binsito · 1 year ago

Text

service

pairing: kim seungmin x fem reader

synopsis: busy seungmin hires a cleaning lady to spiff up his home only to accidentally hire a topless maid ♡

word count: 2.5k

rating: mature, includes: unprotected sex, swearing, oral sex (f & m receiving), usage of the word "mister" in a sexual setting, "good girl" is used once, slight body cumshot, slight power play ??

note - seungmin as a business man is very sexy to me.. i hope i articulated this story well bc imagining it in my brain was very 😵‍💫

seungmin was a very busy man.

his career often had him working long, stressful hours. his success came with the sacrifice of his social life and maybe a couple of metaphorical gray hairs due to the constant goals he needed to reach for his company.

he was proud of his work, no matter how tedious his job may be. sure, he barely had time to himself but his mother had always advised him to become a hardworking, professional man and of course he listened. at such a young age, he found himself quickly getting promoted and making enough to live comfortably, he couldn’t complain.

he normally came home late, toeing his shoes off at the front door and sighing as he made his way to his room. tugging at his tie to fall back into his bed. his house virtually looked unlived in. it was a lovely place, marble flooring with high ceilings but the only purpose it served him was to sleep and get ready for work the next day, an unbreakable cycle. he knew he needed to take better care of his home, at least dust it off here and there, but with what time? he could barely use the bathroom for five seconds before work emails would pour in. he figured it was about time he found someone to tend to the house for him, do his laundry, maybe have some meals prepared for him. he had the means to pay for such a service so why not? having a cleaning lady wouldn’t be such a bad idea?

he needed someone fast so he scrolled online for services while he unwinded in bed. the quicker someone could show up to fix his house up, the better.

he ended up finding an ad that piqued his interest, clicking on it to get more information. the rate they were charging was a bit high but he assumed it was probably because they included more in their cleaning packages. “fuck it.” he sighed out as he booked the soonest available date, at least his house wouldn’t keep suffering from his negligence. __ the next morning, he was getting ready for work as he got a confirmation text message. “morning, mister kim. i’ll be arriving at 10:30, we’ll keep in touch” you had messaged. he was pleased at how quickly his appointment got approved and he finished up so he could greet you when you arrived.

eventually his doorbell rang and he walked over to open it, smiling at you as he moved aside to let you in.

“hello, mister kim” you smiled as you introduced yourself. you held your hand out for him to shake. he returned the smile and shook your hand firmly, he seemed like a gentleman and his house was lovely.

he explained everything around the house in great detail and gave you a small tour. it was a beautiful house, very modern and sleek although you could tell he barely lived in it, it lacked the warmth of a typical well loved home. “feel free to make yourself comfortable.. i left a list on the kitchen counter of things i need you to do. thank you for coming so punctually, shoot me a text whenever.” and with that, he was gone. grabbing his briefcase as he hurried out the door to start his day. you looked over the list: sweep and mop, change his bedsheets, iron his suits and dust off his bookshelves. cute, you thought as you noticed he signed his name on the bottom right corner in elegant cursive along with the date.

you started going around the house, working diligently, humming as you carefully dusted off his bookshelves. he seemed interesting, lots of books about philosophy and music. it seemed he was well versed in piano, having lots of classical sheet music scattered about.

your mind began to wonder.. he was handsome, was he single? he had to be seeing someone right? engaged at the very least? but the more you looked around, the more you noticed the absence of a womanly presence in his home. just one toothbrush, one towel, no makeup lingering around, no forgotten panties or heels, nothing.

you weren’t one to jump to conclusions but normally one’s bedroom held a lot of information about someone.

is that why he requested your services? you wondered..

nothing wrong with hiring a topless maid to clean your house, it was always fun for both parties. he’d be satisfied with a cute little maid doing house chores and you’d be enjoying the attention and compensation. besides, he was pretty attractive and you couldn’t wait for him to get back home that evening to see what would ensue from him seeing you with your tits out for him.

but the problem was.. seungmin had no fucking idea he had requested services from a topless maid. he was tired, half asleep and just really needed his house to be cleaned. maybe he should’ve checked thoroughly, maybe he should’ve read between the lines when the site stated that they offered “special services”.

stupid, stupid mistake. so when he comes home and unlocks the door, the last thing he expected was to see you semi nude.

his jaw almost hit the damn floor, eyes widening while you acted so nonchalant. you glanced over at him with a soft smile, washing some dishes while your pretty tits were on display for him, buds hardening from the cold air in his house. “welcome back home, mister kim” you smiled coyly “h-hi um..” his brain was short circuiting, he didn’t even know what to say or do (he would be lying if he said he wasn’t incredibly turned on to be greeted in such a way). “excuse me.. im going to set my things down in my office” he said, trying not to look down at your exposed chest as he tried to also hide his painful erection. he quickly walked off and checked the website again once he was alone in his office, laughing at how dumb his mistake was. if he had read carefully he would've noticed the implications of the website. “dammit seungmin.. you are quite the idiot..” he said to himself with a chuckle. however, it was a pleasant surprise even if it was unintentional on his part. he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a nice pair of tits. this was making him realize how badly he needed to take a vacation from work and go have some fun. maybe the lack of a relationship and intimacy was making him dizzy because he couldn’t help but think this was the best thing that could’ve ever happened to him.

so he let out a sigh and straightened himself out before walking back out. you had since finished the dishes and were leisurely wiping down his countertop. “everything alright, mister kim?” you asked as you leaned over the counter, head leaning against one of your hands he nodded his head and sat at one of the bar stools “no.. everything’s fine. were you alright while i was gone?”

“mhm.. but i was excited for you to get back.. wanted you to compliment me on my job well done. did i do good mister kim? the house looks nice and tidy doesn’t it?” you giggled softly “oh yes.. looks a lot better thank you. you did a perfect job, good girl” “ah.. would you like me to take your shoes off for you? i mopped and i don’t want you to mess up my hard work..” you pouted. before he could answer, you had made yourself over to him, getting on your knees beneath him and pulling off his shoes. you could feel his gaze on you, he was a little tense and you found it absolutely amusing. you knew he was trying hard to act calm but you could see right through his demeanor. “oh mister kim.. you’re so hardworking.. i can tell.. poor thing. all work and no play..” you cooed. “want me to help with that? i know you want to touch.. just tell me mister kim..” you stated blatantly, no need to beat the bush when you could tell from the tightness of his pants that he was turned on. “a-are you sure?..” his voice was weak, he thought he sounded absolutely pathetic. “oh yes mister kim.. i’m at your service remember? i wanna play too you know? i think i deserve it for doing such a good job.. been waiting for you to get home to me allll day.. i worked extra hard for my reward..” you looked up at him through your eyelashes with a devilish smile. having sex with a client was never off the table for you, especially if you found them hot. if the situation arose and you were both down, you took the opportunity. you liked being taken care of after making their house look spotless. and lucky for seungmin, if he wanted to go further than just a little topless cleaning, you were more than willing to indulge him, he was just your type. seungmin couldn’t even recall the last time he had sex.. he had been so swamped with work that he had since forgotten about such a thing. he was normally so uptight and frustrated with work, the occasional jerking off on the weekend wasn’t even doing it for him anymore. he shyly leaned forward and cupped one of your breasts, giving it a firm squeeze before pinching the bud, his big hands were able to cup a decent handful and he was pleased at how warm they felt in his hand. “how can i help you mister kim?.. oh please tell me.. i’m dying to get to work..” his hands were basically trembling at the sound of your sultry voice. he could barely form a sentence, face flushed with his mouth slightly agape. this was absolutely preposterous but he was brimming with lust and want. he nervously started to undo his belt, pushing his bangs back a bit to get a better look at what he was doing.

there was nothing sexier than a man in a suit, freshly off work, a bit disheveled and tired from the work load but ready to to pull his cock out.

once his cock was visible to you, you bit your lip in anticipation. he was long, his cock leaking and an angry red, you were sure you could take care of his problem very well.

the length was making your mouth water, the idea of him being able to reach so deep inside of you making your thighs press together. “oh mister kim.. your cock looks delicious.. may i have some?”

mouth open and willing to take him, you were so ready to taste him, hear the noises he would make. normally the shy ones were the loudest ones in your experience and you were excited to see him let go.

“go ahead.. make yourself right at home..” he says, cock twitching as he watched you inch towards his head, sucking on the tip and smiling against it “so fucking yummy..” you whispered before taking more of him, closing your eyes when his cock hit the back of your throat.

you had to use a hand to stroke the bit that didn’t quite fit, gagging on his cock as you coated him in spit. drool trickling down his shaft and collecting on his balls as you reached down to give him a tight squeeze.

“s-shit.. i-i’ll cum if you do that..” he whined, eyes glued on everything you were doing to him.

and that only encouraged you to do it again, feeling his thighs clench as a grunt left his throat, pulling off just before he reached his high and giggling at him as he protested.

“don’t you wanna be inside instead?” you got up from your knees, bending yourself over the counter.

his eyes traced over the swell of your ass that was peeking from under the useless skirt. you were wearing a flimsy thong that would surely rip if he tugged on it just a little bit

“c’mon mister kim.. please.. i want your cock inside me..” canting your hips at him to entice him further but he was already planning on shoving his dick inside you.

he stood up behind you, lifting your skirt further to finally reveal your ass, thong irritatingly in the way so he picked it aside as he rubbed his cock against you. he thought he was dreaming, maybe the lack of sleep was getting to him because there was no way in hell this was happening, not when it felt this good.

he gripped your hips tightly with one hand as his guided his cock to your hole, it was so tight, sucking his tip right in as he bit his lip in restraint. you opened your legs further for him as he pressed another inch in.

“fuckk mister kim.. can you feel how wet i am? my pussy is dripping..” and he definitely could feel it. he could also feel how you purposely clenched around him, how soft your walls were, how inviting and warm your hole was. he couldn’t wait to have you full stretched along his cock.

once he bottomed out, he gripped your hair, pulling you into an arch as he fucked into you, tits bouncing with every sharp snap of his hips

his bangs hanging over his eyes, sticking to his forehead as he muttered incoherent curses.

“s-shit! you’re taking my cock so well..” he groaned, losing himself in the feeling of you

he didn’t know how long he would last, his balls tightening with every thrust. he was soon to be a goner, it just felt so fucking unreal, all this pent up stress about to blow deeply inside your pussy. you moved against him, meeting his thrusts as you reached down to touch your clit, the ridges of his cock pushing against you so perfectly you thought your knees would give out.

“i-i’m gonna cum oh my god.. s-shit shit!”

one final pump and he was cumming, quickly pulling out to spill over your asscheeks. he was out of breath yet still rock hard.

you got on top of the counter on all fours invitingly, which seungmin gladly accepted the offer. spreading you open as he buried his face deep in your cunt, lapping hungrily as you moaned. wet noises filling his normally quiet home.

his tongue didn't leave a single crevice untouched, flattening and sucking harshly as your toes curled from the pleasure. he pressed his tongue in while his fingers came up to rub your clit. his nimble fingers coaxing an orgasm from you, one that made a mantra of "mister kim's" spill from your lips.

your essence all over his face as he licked his lips, sighing in ecstasy, giving you a light slap on the ass as he pulled your skirt back down

both of you in a haze yet still craving more. you knew this definitely wasn't going to be the last time seungmin would request services from you.

which was absolutely right.

seungmin quickly booked you again for the following week after you had left, same day and time. you were bubbling with anticipation for the next time you’d come over.

you fucking loved your job.

please refrain from reposting, modifying, translating, copying or stealing my work. - © binsito

#binsito #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz hard thoughts #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader smut #kim seungmin #kim seungmin smut #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin fanfic #kim seungmin stray kids #seungmin skz #skz seungmin #stray kids seungmin #seungmin stray kids #seungmin x reader #seungmin x reader smut #binsito : seungmin

578 notes · View notes

viharbinger · 6 months ago

Note

ahhhh!!! it’s so exciting finding writers to write for jin sakai <3

can we have jin sakai x reader ( married au ) in which the reader gets kidnapped and jin does everything in his power to get his partner back? it’s unlike the feeling of freeing his uncle bc jin becomes scary looking for them.

“where is my wife?!” kind of vibes ( though not necessarily have to be fem! reader )

+bonus points if he calls his partner “beloved” :3

a/n: I gotchu anon... i GOTCHUUUUU (I hope U like it :D )

pairings: (ghost of tsushima) husband!Jin Sakai x gn!reader (married au)

tags: ...erm fluff? It's definitely fluff at the end idk about the first part tho😹

warnings: married au, mentions of blood, starvation, reader is kidnapped, no pronouns are used, usage of the word y/n (I honestly felt the ick writing that but I had to)

Hero

It was terrifying. Getting caught in an ambush while you were out with Jin was not in your plans. You were captured before Jin could even turn to look at you, driven away on the back of a horse. You can't understand a single thing they're saying, but you keep hearing the same thing over and over, "Ghost". Was that what your husband was being called now?

You've been on the move for days ever since you've been captured, riding on a caged carriage behind a horse. Certainly an upgrade from a horse's back. It looks like they want to cover all of their tracks so he can't find you fast enough. Do they want to bring you to Khotun Khan? The thought just gives you goosebumps.

You've heard of all of the stories. Everything he's done. He's already killed more than a hundred samurai on Tsushima island without mercy, what could he do to you who's just the spouse of the ghost?

Your clothes were muddy from how much you've been tossed around on the ground lately, and your stomach was already digesting itself. Finally, they settle you into a new cage. To say it was filthy was an understatement. You don't want to admit it, but you're not used to this sort of life compared to the clean and neat home you worked so hard to keep back at Omi village with Jin.

Well, everything's got to change now, huh? You sat in silence for hours until you heard a familiar language you could finally understand. It was one of the straw hat ronins, oh you've heard of their betrayal to your husband, alright.

"—Seen him myself! He's tracking us down like a wolf to its prey! He's killed at least a few dozen of us already!" A ronin clearly afraid, exclaims to one of his fellow members.

"Oh shut up. You're just feeding into the rumours the peasants have been yammering about. What harm can one man do against an army of us right here?" He's right. It looked like one of the biggest camps you've ever seen so far into your abduction. There were enemies everywhere from top to bottom and archers from miles away watching for flanks.

"I'm serious. I'm sure he's coming for a certain someone." He points to you, to which the other ronin just glares at you. They walk away from your line of sight, continuing their conversation till they were out of earshot.

You could barely think about that right now, you were so hungry. The last thing you ate was a piece of pity bread given by a straw hat ronin and the only drink you'd have was rainwater. They've never beaten on you before but it was cruel enough they didn't bother feeding you anything.

Soon, the moon was in the sky, you could barely see a thing but the torches illuminating the faces of the invaders. Just as you were lost in your thoughts, loud terror screaming could be heard. Before you knew it, a lot of the men started investigating and picking up their sharpened weapons. One of them stood right in front of your door, guarding you.

Next thing you knew, there was so much chaos. Other fellow captured prisoners ran away to safety, screaming and explosions could be heard in all sorts of directions. Could this finally be the time for you to be saved?

"Where is Y/n?" You hear Jin. He sounded so angry and not his usual soft-spoken self. You peek through a hole to try to find him. If you yell, surely they'll finish you off before he gets to you. He's standing in front of the camp leader, in a stand off. "You killed my men. Destroy my territory. For that, you will pay!" The leader is prideful, intimidating yet your spouse shows no fear and draws his blade. They fight for a few moments and before you know it, the leader drops dead on the mud.

The man guarding your cage shudders in fear and opts to run away with the rest of the scared shitless army. Jin sheaths his sword seeing as nobody else dares to stand against him. He was definitely not one to mess with. You take this as an opportunity to call for your husband. "Jin!" You yell, your throat felt like it was being scratched. God, you were so parched.

He immediately looks for the source of your voice, running over to you. He wastes no time in opening your door. "Are you okay? What did they do to you?" He holds your cheeks gently, turning your face in different angles to look for injuries.

"Jin. I'm fine. I missed you so much." You teared up, hugging him. He hugs you back, tightly. Inhaling his scent which smells like blades of grass, you're content. You haven't felt like you were going to die every second you were in this god forsaken camp until this moment with your husband.

"I'm so glad you're here." It was your turn to cup his cheeks now, you pull him into a sweet kiss to which he returns. When you finally pull away you use whatever energy you have left peppering kisses all over his face which made him laugh and turn his face away. Hugging him again one last time again, he pets your hair lovingly.

"I'll get you home, my beloved." He whispers to you softly, tucking a stray hair away from your eyes. His once angry and frustrated voice at the standoff replaced with one of love. Clearly you've been through too much that you uncharacteristically gave him this much affection. You could care less he's killed hundreds just to get to you, you just want to love the hero who's just saved you.

Finally, you were on your way back home with Jin. Your hands were wrapped around his waist and head was pressed against his back as you rode back home. Boy, the thought of eating some rice just makes your mouth water. And of course, finally being home comfortably with your husband is great too.

#. bees posts #ghost of tsushima fics #ghost of tsushima x reader #jin sakai fics #jin sakai x reader #jin sakai x you #jin sakai #ghost of tsushima

86 notes · View notes

gasolinerainbowpuddles · 9 months ago

Text

𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 🎃💦 ∘₊✧ 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝟙𝟠 ✧₊

|| ︶꒦꒷𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥꒷꒦︶ | main masterlist ||

@absurdthirst's Kinktober 2023 Prompts

day 18: Sensory Deprivation Gags, Service Top/Power Bottom, Bloodplay

𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

| PAIRING(s): Javi G x menstruating!reader | RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 1.9k | CONTENT: menstruation-centered erotic acts, Javi G is a cinnamon roll freak-a-leek, lots of blood (obviously), romantic fingerpainting, cumplay bc it felt spiritually correct | SYNOPSIS: Your period pains have sidelined you, but Javi finds a way to make things better.

Not even the gentle sounds of crystal blue waters rocking against stone just beyond your bedroom could distract you from the gnawing pain in your lower belly. The balmy breeze drifting through the open doors and windows does little to bring solace, either. Here you are, smack dab in the middle of paradise with the most generous lover and adoring companion you’d ever had in your life, and you’ve spent the better half of the day balled up into the fetal position, completely miserable.

Right on cue, the soft padding of Javi’s feet against the floor draws closer. “Bebita?” His voice is soft, so gentle and attentive it makes your heart want to burst a thousand times over every time you hear it. You groan, a glum little sound from the back of your throat, and hug yourself tighter. “Bebita, are you feeling any better after the medicine?”

“Not really,” you admit. You’d love to tell him that the pill he’d brought you earlier worked its miracle and that all of his efforts have been for something. But, you and Javi don’t lie to each other. It’s one of the many refreshing things that being with Javi has offered. Another freeing aspect of your dynamic was that Javi never seemed to be shaken or deterred by things not going to plan or as you would’ve liked them to.

It wasn’t the obnoxious, compulsive positivity that you see in self-help “gurus” peddling their latest creed in the form of a 16 chapter book for only $23.95 that promises to address all your shortcomings that their last three offerings hadn’t touched upon. Javi had that beautiful sort of determination to make the best of things, no matter the circumstances. It was a sort of infectious sincerity and buoyancy that you couldn’t help but to lean into.

“Agh, I was hoping it would help,” he sighs. “Maybe a change of scenery?”

“Javi, I really don’t want to move. Everything hurts,” you whine.

“What if I stay with you? What about some more blankets? A massage?”

You perk up as he rattles off suggestions, particularly at the offer of a massage. “You really want to massage me right now? I’m all gross and bloated.”

His face breaks into a gentle censure, a soft grin that stalls the breath in your chest. “You keep saying crazy things like you don’t know me,” he chuckles. He crawls onto the mattress and slips a warm hand underneath the sheets and your waistband, the heat and pressure of his palm against your belly offering an immediate palliative effect. A weak whimper escapes your lips the moment he begins kneading firm circles.

“How’s that, bebita?”

“Feels good. Can you push harder?”

He answers by way of applying deeper pressure to his kneading motions, eventually curling his hand into a fist for firmer impact. His hands, always so gentle and attentive, feel much more like the eager and sure ones that grace your body when he’s got you on all fours and crying out his name. The parallel sends a new sensation to your lower belly, something more familiar to the response it yields under those toe curling, mind bending explorations of one another.

Without a word, Javi pulls the covers away from your body and tugs away the lower half of your clothing. When you start to protest, he shushes you and reminds you how much better you’ll feel without all the elastic and waistbands pressing against your tender, swollen belly. When you start with how gross you feel and about him seeing you so disheveled, he all but hauls you out of the bed towards the bathroom.

“Let me take care of you,” he pouts. “A hot shower and more of my massage will make you feel better. Please, bebita.”

You heave a weighted sigh when he frees you from the rest of your clothing and discards it into a pile on the floor. “Fine. It’s time to take out my cup anyway,” you grumble. You wince as you settle onto the toilet, your lower back now joining the EVERYTHING HURTS! party.

You’re focused enough on the discomfort and the task at hand that you nearly miss Javi’s eyes glued to the movements to retrieve your cup. The rise and fall of his chest is easier to clock when he’s standing there in nothing but sweatpants that leave little to the imagination. He’s so frustratingly handsome and broad and tanned – and, you’ve just noticed, cupping a tempering palm against his crotch.

Just as you start to realize there’s something about all of this he clearly enjoys, the menstrual cup gives to your efforts and pops out of your entrance. You fumble with it for a moment, cursing under your breath as you try to keep it from plunging into the toilet water, and manage to catch it. It didn’t go into the toilet water, but it did tip all over your hand and inner thigh.

“Fuck!” you hiss, scurrying to the sink and dropping the cup into it. You can feel the pulse of blood dripping out of you as you walk, and you pray that most of it has landed on the tile. You barely let go of it before Javi is down on the floor, bracing your thighs – no, spreading them – and saying something urgently about how he’ll get it and let him help you.

“I made a fucking mess,” you gripe. You gesture to the smears and droplets that mark your frantic trek to the sink, but Javi’s gaze doesn’t follow.

“Yes, you did make quite the mess,” he husks.

Your head snaps back to attention and meets his eyes, flickering up to yours. His cheeks are doused in splotches of heat. His tongue flits nervously over his bottom lip. There’s a supplicant, almost pained frown curving his mouth. Before you can get a firm grasp on whatever the fuck is going on, a sharp cramping sensation suddenly builds and constricts in your abdomen.

You lean over the sink to steady yourself through the cramping, face pulling tight with the discomfort of it. Javi pushes his way through until his head is wedged between the countertop and your mound. The first swipe of his wet tongue against your clit is such a sharp contrast of pleasure to the pain of your cramps that your legs nearly give.

“Let me, let me, let me,” he practically chants as he begins tonguing and licking into you in earnest, two fat fingers sliding in with the ease and slip your blood gives. Not only have you never had a partner show interest in any sort of intimacy when you were on your cycle, but you’ve never quite found any appeal in it yourself — until right about now.

Your cramping has ebbed away once more, and the only thing you can feel in its place are Javi’s thick digits pressing and stroking against your already swollen and sensitive walls. You’re not prepared for the sight of it all when you look down. His face is smeared with claret and crimson. It runs down his hand and snakes along his wrist as he works you faster. He looks almost manic in the way his eyes lock with yours.

“Let it spill out, please.”

You can’t make much sense of what he’s asking for, but the heady urgency of his energy is enough to send you over the edge. Just as your climax has you spasming a third time, he removes his hand and holds it just below the cradle of your thighs, mesmerized by the thin red string of blood that connects from his fingertips to your entrance. Another spasm sends a fresh gush of blood to follow the natural gravity of the wet trail.

Javi audibly whimpers at this and haphazardly shoves his sweatpants down far enough to free his cock and start stroking it with your fresh supply of bloody lubricant. His needy moan flips a switch in your brain, and you’re pushing him against the cabinets and straddling his legs before your brain quite configures what the driving force is behind all of this magnetic, sensuous energy.

He holds his cock steady long enough for you to sink down onto it fully, and you both gasp at the feel of it parting you, splitting you open to take him hard and fast. You roll your hips and chase the sounds of Javi losing himself in it all. His hands grip your breasts, your thighs, your neck – all leaving a trail of your own blood scattered over your body. You don’t even care about the sticky drying feel of it like you normally would, not with Javi making such deliciously pitiful sounds.

“Come on, Javi, fuck it out of me,” comes your stilted plea. You aren’t sure why you say it, only somewhat conscious of the fact that it’s the right thing to get him even more wrapped up in all of this.

He has your back pressed against the cold tile within seconds, thrusting into you with such fervor that you slide back a few times from the force of it. “So fucking wet, bebita.” He sounds wrecked and even more so looks it.

“Fucking messy just how you like, right, baby?” you goad him, trying to latch onto whatever bits of this new thing is that’s happening that you’ve already picked up on. “Making a mess everywhere.”

He scrunches his eyes shut as if pained at the words, a whiny sigh slinking up his throat at your instigation. A frantic chain of Spanish that you catch and decipher out of order – something bebita, something torrente, something fuente.

“What, Javi? Tell me. I wanna know how I make you feel, baby. Tell me.”

His eyes tear open, jaw slack for a moment, before answering. “My little fountain, yeah? You’re going to spill all over me? I want it, bebita, please.”

The desperation in his plea stirs another orgasm in your gut. He nods, a little hectic and compelling, and rubs the pad of his thumb against your clit. Your entire body seizes up with the force of it, eyes slamming into the back of your skull as you’re taken completely off guard. The wet sound of your blood pushing out with each thrust serves as the backdrop to Javi’s guttural moans while he erupts inside you.

“Feel so good. You feel so good,” he grits out as his thrusts slow to a sloppy circuit.

You grab hold of him as tight as he’ll allow and pull his full weight onto you. It pushes the air right out of your lungs, but you don’t care. You only want to stay with him like this, keep in this little hazy, blissed out bubble. He eventually glides out of you, groaning at the blood weeping from your spent cunt as he extricates himself.

He watches in unabashed infatuation as the mixture of it and his cum leaks onto the floor. The corner of his mouth tugs up just before he strokes a finger flat against your folds, collecting bits of fluid along the way.

“What’re you–”

He grins broader with his fingertip tracing a pattern onto your already stained torso. “There. For you, bebita.” He looks up at you with eager anticipation and flashes that million kilowatt smile that makes your heart thrum wild. You crane your head to see what he’s crudely fingerpainted onto your abdomen.

“It’s a heart,” you breathe out in a laugh. “You drew me a heart with my period blood and your jizz. Wow. So romantic, Javi.”

He lets out a deep belly laugh and snatches you up into a fond embrace. “Only for you, my little fountain. Only for you.”

paging my Javi G freak-a-leek kink bitches:@burntheedges @joelmillerisapunk @electriclasso @umnitsa @noxturnalpascal @jupiter-soups @drunk-and-capable @sheepdogchick3 @pop-sugar102 @angiewatson @sweetercalypso @lumoverheaven @5oh5 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @ghostofaboy @dilfspitdrinker @miss-mistinguett @deci3t @janaispunk @ghoulettesinspace

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #javi gutierrez #javi gutierrez x reader #pedro pascal characters

142 notes · View notes

bluegiragi · 2 years ago

Note

I dunno if you’ve ever answered this, and if you have forgive me but I would love to know your take about the circumstances that would lead to König fucking Ghost instead of vice versa- bc I can’t imagine a scenario where Ghost would allow his shit to be wrecked like that, and by König too

Thank you so much for all your art!! It makes my brain do the dopamine dance ❤️

thank you for your kind words anon!! and yeah, i think i've touched on it really lightly previously but i'll go more into it now :)

i think we can all agree that ghost has some pretty serious intimacy issues, and i think bottoming can be a little overwhelming for him (not necessarily in a bad way, he's just not used to being taken care of like that so it's a lot, and usually a bit emotional). but i think it's easier (and more pleasurable) for him when he can do it and still be the dominant one.

i think ghost is actually a bit pleased by the fact that konig is big enough to manhandle him, since it makes him feel extra powerful when he's got konig wrapped around his finger. he dangles the prospect of getting ridden over konig like it's a prize for when he's especially good, and i think they both like to do it in a way where ghost acts like konig's just a toy for him to use. so tying konig down in some way, or making it so that ghost will stop if he moves - i think that's a scenario they like to play out.

there's also a scenario where they're just coming off a mission and konig is still in that assertive, cocksure mode while the adrenaline's still high. surprising literally noone, ghost finds konig's ability to turn into a feral killing machine hot as fuck, and although he'd still put on a superior mask and make it seem like he's simply allowing this to happen, i think this scene plays out with konig fucking ghost against a wall as brutally as he can. it works for both of them in this way since it's so violent, like it's basically just stress relief and i think ghost would goad and berate konig the entire time, even as he's being fucked to tears.

#ive.#thought about this too much #<3 #thank you for indulging my filth #askbox #anon #ghostkonig

365 notes · View notes

chocolatecakeandbl · 2 years ago

Text

PhayuRain Dynamics

Short dive into PhayuRain bc we talked about it in the LITA Discord Server a while ago, and I decided to screw my thought about NotWritingMetasBcI'mBadAtIt, cleaned it up and here we go:

Alriiiight, Let's start on the topic, shall we? From the little clues we get from the show (I rewatched PhayuRain's part about 4 times just to make sure) PhayuRain engage in a 24/7 D/s relationship. It's a super rare thing, bc the compatibility is rarely ever given in real life, but IF two find each other (like Phayu and Rain) it's one of the most wonderful experiences a relationship can offer.

But what does it include?

So, if you head over to google you'll find all sort of gross things. Really. Do yourself a favor and don't google it. I saw a lot I didn't want to see (which says sth considering I'm from the field) A real 24/7 D/s relationship is not about one partner dominating the other about every thing. Sure, you can do it. There's no limit and each is their own. But often such a relationship only works when there is a balanced give and take.

Rain, for one, is actually having SUB printed on his forehead. If you ever been a Dom you take one look at Rain and be like "Yep, full sub." Like. there is no other option. But Rain is also a Brat (with capital B).

Phayu is not only a Dom (shows in his behaviour, the way he carries himself, the way his eyes move [Boss is an awesome actor]) but also a Brat-tamer.

(NOT every Dom is a Brat Tamer, and not every Dom's likes Brats. (I for one, don't want a Brat. Not for anything sexual, nor for a relationship. I can’t cope with it nor react accordingly) Every Dom is different. Pls keep that in mind)

We see several instances where Phayu takes a close look at Rain. He checks his reaction, gauges it. He teases Rain just to see how he reacts bc it tells more about a person than any word can. In the bathroom/stall scene Phayu tests the waters. Is Rain just a Brat bc that's his nature? But in reality he's not into getting bossed around? Is he sensitive? Is he able to submit? At first it looks like Rain isn't.

At first it looks as if Rain not only doesn't know he's into men, and specifically into someone with a shining aura of domination, it also looks as if he hugely underestimates Phayu. But a few seconds in, without Phayu actually kissing Rain (he's just teasing. He doesn't have Rain's consent, so he doesn't go down. Unlike the scene in the bed where Rain kicks him off with a pillow - where Phayu had been playing - here Phayu doesn't step over boundaries) Rain bares his throat. The ultimate submission. If you look closely, Phayu goes all OH, his eyebrows go up, his eyes widen when he sees Rain's reaction when he checks in on him. He keeps teasing Rain - again without really kissing him, just a breath of air against his neck, an occasional nosebump against skin - and Rain melts. His fingers clutch at Phayu, fist Phayu's shirt. Phayu rolls his hips once against Rain, and surely feels him hard. It's all the affirmation Phayu needs. Rain is a sub, he's very into being dominated and being told what to do, being told he's a good boy (bc D/s dynamics need quite an amount of praise).

Phayu could have gone further, but he decided to let Rain work through this at his own pace. And that’s what makes a good Dom. The consideration, the keeping strict to boundaries (they have not spoken about at that point, but Rain is like a walking open book, really). In the later episodes, we see Rain going from clueless virgin to Power Bottom. He learned Phayu's tricks and Phayu's movements. He uses them against Phayu when they start to make out after Phayu won the race. Phayu even tries to gain the upper hand again, presses Rain against the wall, only for Rain to turn around, not allowing Phayu to dictate where and how they are going. In the NC scene we see what a real D/s relationship is about. Give and take. Phayu allows Rain to do as he pleases. He gives him the power of their scene without allowing Rain to become a Dom. It's a balancing act. And they both are incredibly good at it. Phayu is wrecked right after because Rain has learned this much in the short time since Phayu took his virginity. We never see them sitting down and talk, but let's be real, it's what they did. Rain surely hadn't known about D/s before Phayu, but Phayu told him, taught him. No one gets into such a relationship without a lot of communication. And the 2nd NC scene shows how much communication they both went through. A LOT. Rain is a Brat, and he is a Sub, but that doesn't take away the power from him he has over Phayu. Quite the contrary.

First time they get intimate, if you look closely, what does Phayu do? He controls where Rain lies, how he lies. Phayu keeps Rain's hands in place on more than one occasion. This is a form of BDSM. (you may or may not call it like that and yes, I don't like boxes either, but if you go deep into these topics, you'll find it easier with boxes. Trust me. I tried without. It doesn't work.) It's a form of bondage, just that there is no rope. Why is this working for Rain, you may ask? Having a Dom (who knows what he does. May I add how rare that is?) like Phayu, who keeps his attention solely on Rain, checking in on him every few seconds without a word, always gauging Rain's reaction, and adjusting if necessary, is like a dream come true. Rain can let himself fall into Phayu's hands. He can trust Phayu will ensure they will get the best and most out of it. He can trust Phayu loves him and will cherish him. And that's the thing why being a sub is satisfying to no ends. As a Sub there are a lot of things you don't have to worry about. (which is, again, Rain in person. He's not the brightest star. He essentially needs someone like Phayu who knows what buttons to press to get Rain into the right direction without dominating him into it) A Dom is taking care of their sub, and that is what Phayu is doing 24/7. He keeps his eyes on Rain, corrects when necessary, stays cold and seemingly indifferent to Rain when he is in front of him, but melts into love stricken smiles when Rain can't see him. And Rain? In the course of their relationship we see how he starts to depend on Phayu. Yes, he is his own. He doesn't belong to Phayu. But he gives himself to Phayu. He can work himself alone (can go through daily whatever's easily by himself) but he knows he can fall back on Phayu. Just like Phayu gives himself to Rain. He allows Rain to dictate his life, can't keep Rain out of his head - see the way he got immediately worried when Rain didn't pick up his phone (bc he got kidnapped). The way Phayu frantically searched the house? That's what their relationship is about. Give and take. With D/s dynamics they both bend to their own will.

#phayurain #payurain #love in the air #payu x rain #phayu x rain #love in the air series #lita

419 notes · View notes

luvfy0dor · 1 year ago

Note

Hello! I was wondering if you could maybe write bsd x gn or m reader who’s proficient enough in Japanese to.. well, manage, but still isn’t great at it? Not sure who you write for but maybe Atsushi or Dazai or Ranpo?

(Totally didn’t just request this because I’m learning Japanese and some of this grammar and kanji are killing me lmaooo)

Thanks :DDD

"A Little Help!! ♡⁠˖" Atsushi Nakajima x M!Reader

Warnings; I have very minimal knowledge on Japanese, so please do bare with me lol, probably bad translations, but other than that pure fluff!!

Description; Atsushi and Ranpo helping their partner with their Japanese skills

A/N; IM SO SORRY I ONLY DID ONE CHARACTER BC I HAVE VERY LIMITED KNOWLEDGE ON THE LANGUAGE AND DIDNT WANNA REPEAT SCENARIOS SO I USED GOOGLE TRANSLATE BUT I PUT WHAT ITS SUPPOSED TO SAY AT THE BOTTOM BUT PLS DO TELL IF YOU WANT ME TO RE-WRITE IT THO I ABSOLUTELY WILL ♡ GOOD LUCK IN YOUR LEARNING 💓

Atsushi is gonna teach you everything you need to know if you're struggling with the language. He'll teach you how to memorize and recognize the kanji since he is well acquainted with the symbols.

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Recently, you've really been taking the initiative to better your Japanese skills, but identifying all the different kanji was quite the hurdle to jump without landing flat on your face. When speaking the language, you had no problem with basic stuff, but when it came to actually reading the language, it got a little more difficult. Luckily for you, you happened to have a boyfriend who was fluent in the language.

Occasionally you would hang around the Ada, using it as an opportunity to utilize the words and phrases you knew. Ofcourse there was some anxiety regarding conversation going further than you pleased and crossing into topics you couldn't fluently speak on. You figured it could be a good learning experience though, so you powered through the long days at the agency, acting as a secretary.

Your ears perked up at the quiet sound of the door opening, a woman walking in, your boyfriend Atsushi following behind her. You give them both a small smile, not quite sure if she was going to speak with you or not yet. Then, she opened her mouth.

"Kon'nichiwa, Kunikida-san to hanashite mo īdesu ka?" ¹ She asks, her head tilted ever so slightly. Her short brown hair sways to one side while she speaks. You think for a moment before replying

"Mōshiwakearimasenga, kare wa ima koko ni imasen." ² You tell her, remembering that Kunikida and Ranpo had gone somewhere on investigation earlier that morning and have yet to return. You give her that one look of faux sympathy or apology as you talk. Atsushi listens to you speak, smiling and giving you a thumbs up from behind the woman, essentially cheering you on. He walks around the woman and stands at your side.

"Ā, daijōbudesu. Ashita no yoyaku o shite mo īdesu ka?" ³ You swallowed a small lump on your throat before looking over at Atsushi for help. "She wants to make an appointment for tomorrow to speak with Kunikida. Do you know how to reply?" He asks, a reassuring smile on his face. "Kare wa mada gengo o benkyō-chūdesuga, wa i, dekimasu." ⁴ You hear him say to the woman, to which she replies with an understanding nod. You wrack your brain quickly for a response, and you find one.

"Nanji?" You reply, praying that you remembered the correct phrase for your question, but when you aren't met with a small giggle or sigh of annoyance, you feel a lot better. She tells you the time and asks to have it written down on a small piece of paper because of her poor memory. You grabbed a sticky note from the desk with a pen, scribbling down the time and handing it to her. Atsushi watches you write, his gaze soft as he takes a seat next to you. The woman thanks you and leaves, the door clicking again just as it had done when she entered.

"See, you did pretty good." He says with a smile, resting his head in his hand. You sigh, doubtful of your accuracy in the conversation. "Yeah, I probably did, but I couldn't have the conversation fully on my own. You had to translate one of her sentences." You say, putting your head down and resting it on your folded forearms. He rubs your back gently, patting it after a couple seconds.

"Hey, that's not a bad thing. Me telling you what that means is only gonna help you recognize it later." He says, trying his best to reassure you. "If you really want to be able to strive without..in the moment help, you can always ask me to teach you stuff." He smiles warmly. You give him a smile and sit upwards again, his hand sliding down to the small of your back now.

"That would actually be really nice." You stare into his pretty eyes, taking in his facial features, seemingly studying them harder than you studied Japanese. He blushed under your stare and averted his eyes to look at his lap instead. "What specifically do you have a hard time with?" He says, his voice relatively quiet as you both sat in the otherwise silent room. "Kanji." You reply instantly, knowing that if a part of a language could oppose you, it would be kanji.

Your boyfriend nods in understanding, having figured that kanji would be your toughest subject, given how similar a lot of them look. "Okay. You can come back to my apartment tonight if you want and I can teach you. We can scrape together some money and buy take out, too." He says with a smile. You nod in agreement before you both go about the rest of your day, eagerly looking forward to that evening.

When you both arrive back to his apartment, Atsushi grabs some paper and pens, handing you one of them. He guides you to sit at the kitchen table. He writes down some kanji symbols in his neatest handwriting.

"Alright, here, tell me the difference between these two." On the paper, the symbols "緑" and "縁" are written. "Well..the bottom right corners are different from the other." You say. He nods in confirmation. "Yeah! See? You have to really observe each symbol." He says with a smile. This goes on for a while, Atsushi teaching you how to differentiate the symbols as well as telling you their meanings before you've both tired yourselves out enough to nearly fall asleep as soon as your body hit the couch. Atsushi hugged your torso as he layed on your chest, his head in the crook of your neck.

"But yeah, that's basically as simple as it is." He says with a yawn, seemingly dismissing the topic of your second language for the moment. You brush some of his hair out of his face while he cuddles into your chest some more. "Yeah, I mean, it really doesn't seem that hard, but it's easier to say something like that then to act like it." You murmur back, pressing a gentle kiss to his head. "But I've got such a great boyfriend to help me, huh?" You say happily, to which he nods. "And I've got such a great boyfriend to teach."

A/N #2; here's the guide as promised 😞💔 this sat in my drafts for like the past two weeks but im so glad i finally fulfilled it. Sometimes

1~ Hello, may I speak with Kunikida?

2~ I'm sorry, he's not here right now.

3~ Oh, its alright. Can I make an appointment for tomorrow?

4~ hes still learning the language, but yes, you can

5~ What time?

54 notes · View notes

zugarcubes · 3 months ago

Text

What a happy lil family! Love them sm :3

Charolette Durand (bottom right) is the daughter of Dai and Araignée Durand. She transferred to UA from a private school in France.

Her Mother, Araignée, is a rescue hero named Loomara. Her quirk is called Orb-Weaver. She can practically go anything an Orb-Weaver spider can, but cooler. Part of her quirk allows her to create special clothing by merging a users DNA with her spider silk. She uses this power to create clothes for heroes, children, and her daughter, who have a hard time controlling their quirks.

Her father, Dai, is the former known as Undo. His quirk is called cancel, which means any powers used on him won’t work. (This also includes any quirks that involve healing people.) This does not apply to people who are already strong without powers. He lost his arm and ear in one of his last duals. Araignée was the hero who saved him, and also put him behind bars. Turns out, Undo never wanted to actually be a convict. He was placed between a rock and a hard place, and villain work was his easiest way out. After many years of counseling, and flirting, he was eventually freed under the circumstances that Araignée would watch over him.

Charolette was born with a heteromorph quirk that gave her four eyes, which everyone assumed would mean she would take after her mother. However, when she was around 7, she developed the quirk called nullification. Those within a certain radius of her will temporarily have their quirk nullified. The backside to this quirk was that it would cause her severe migraines. The stronger the quirk, the stronger the migraine. Her mother custom makes her clothes and uniform so that she doesn’t feel overwhelmed all the time. She did Gymnastics, Fencing, and Savate growing up.

Transferring to UA was hard for her. She also only got in because Inasa chose to not enroll to school there. She had a hard time learning Japanese and had a heavy French accent. Luckily, Aoyama was able to help her out. She’s enrolled in Vlad King’s class though, which means she doesn’t spend a lot of time with him. Her least favorite students in the hero course are Monoma, Tetsutetsu, Bakugo, and Kirishima. She finds that their personalities are too loud and dreads being around them. Her favorite students are Honenuki, Yanagi, Todorki, and Ojiro.

More art of her bc I love her hehehe ^^

I’ll be posting info about my oc Hayahiko Yoshido later!! But they’re both tolerant of each other hehehe.

I’m still working on her hero costume tho

#mha oc art #mha ocs #mha au #mha aus #mha oc #mha #my hero oc #my hero academia #my hero academy oc #dragu art #dragu oc

13 notes · View notes

n3onstroke · 16 days ago

Text

HURT: a sans au x female oc fanfic.

author ramble: noel is the mc, third person bc i can’t write in anything else, noel is a fucking simp for error but i can’t blame her, that man is sexy ong, BISEXUAL MC YES GOD, noel has a gender crisis idk, she uses she/her for now tho, lots LOTS of cursing like noel has no filter, mainly bad sans but i might toss ink and a couple others in there idk, she’s a monster, MC is NOT human 😅😅, zombie mc YESSSS, mc is sick of everyone’s dumbass questions, physical illness suffering mc, mc has OP magic, mc used to be human but shhhhhh 😵‍💫🤫🤫, mc has non-binary shape-shifting older sibling 🤗🤗, lots of trauma, sarcastic and passive agressive mc, she’s a likin park fan, schizophrenic mc, fucking batshit mentally ill crazy mc undercover, gore, light body horror, bad flirting, too many puns go away, humour, eventual romance, mc fucking loves baking, mc loves cheese and diet coke, neol fucks around and finds out, W’s in the chat, FUCK IT INKS A LOVE INTREST TOO, Noel does NOT like ink at the start, error loves that, bottom mc on my soul she is, tsundere mc??, she’s korean and so is her older sibling, english is not her first language, google translate, she’s so sexy, asexual / not really into / considering sex oc?? asexual (????) i don’t even know, the furthest i’ll probably write is making out / a little touching but that’s it, HYPERSEXUAL older sibling lol, dust and nightmare know korean, noel when dust speaks korean: 🤭🤭😵‍💫😵‍💫😣, noel when nightmare speaks korean: 💀💀😒😒🙂‍↔️🤨, is my error bias showing with this or no, noel is a type 1 diabetic, she’s also lactose intolerant but loves cheese idk, she also is fucking addicted to chai drinks, chronic insomina, like it’s so bad this bitch is CHUGGING nightquil while dream’s and nightmares powers don’t do SHIT. possesive everyone besides Noel because she isn’t crazy (lie), yanderes?? yeah probably, oh my god this is so long, killer being her number one opp (also a massive flirt), nightmare being an asshole for like…99% percent of the time, dust just being husband material, horror force feeding her idk, cross being husband material too (i love him holy shit he’s so FINE GAWDDD), error being a little shit and making noel lose her shit, kind of ooc error because im crazy about them, all the skellies use he/him fuck u, i’m fucking in love with error, the brainrot help, mc hates this shit, mc sleeps with stuffed animals, mc loves horror movies, mc is actually really smart, ERROR HAS FIVE TONGUES HOLY SHIT!!!, NOEL PULLS ALL THE BITCHES ON ACCIDENT????

GENERAL RAMBLE: INTRODUCTION CHAPTER, CURRENT PROGRESS 0/45 CHAPTERS.

TW FOR ENTIRE STORY, BUT CHAPTERS WILL HAVE THEIR SEPREATE TW’s!!!

PLAYLIST:

POCKETFUL OF SUNSHINE

BY NATASHA BEDINGFUL

HELL YEAH

BY JULEZ SANTANA, AUGUST ALSINA

PITBULL TERRIER

BY DIE ANTWOOD

LOCKJAW

BY SIR-MIX-ALOT

USE YOUR HEART- INTERLUDE

BY SWV

ANIMAL ATTRACTION

BY SHE WANTS REVENGE

MONOLITH

BY TWIN TRIBES

WHY’S EVERYBODY ALWAYS PICKING ON ME

BY BLOODHOUND GANG

THE MEAT GRINDER

BY JAPANESECOFFEE

BROWN SHUGA

BY SIR-MIX-ALOT

FARBEN (ALARM MIX)

BY ORANGE SECTOR

LIVING DEAD GIRL

BY ROB ZOMBIE

TRON CAT

BY TYLER THE CREATOR

SERIAL KILLER

BY SLAYYYTER

GOTTASADAE

BY BEWHY

YOU ARE ALSO LIKE ME

BY NASTYONA

CREEP

BY RADIOHEAD

LEAVING TONIGHT

BY THE NEIGHBOORHOOD

NO MORE

FREDDIE DREDD

ICH WILL

BY RAMMSTEIN

HOLY DIVER

BY KILLSWITCH ENGAGE

FLATLINE

BY JUSTIN BIEBER

CARRION

BY FIONA APPLE

WALTZ (BETTER THEN FINE)

BY FIONA APPLE

GET HIM BACK

BY FIONA APPLE

GIVEN UP

BY LIKIN PARK

THE DEVIL IN I

BY SLIPKNOT

POINTS OF AUTHORITY

BY LIKIN PARK

WITH YOU

BY LIKIN PARK

NIGHTMARE

BY AVENGED SEVENFOLD

BURRIED ALIVE

BY AVENGED SEVENFOLD

DIVA

BY BEYONCE

SONG 2

BY BLUR

TAKE A LOOK AROUND

BY LIMP BIZKIT

PARANOID ANDROID

BY RADIOHEAD

HAND ME MY SHOVEL, I’M GOING IN!

BY WILL WOOD AND THE TAPEWORMS

RAH TAH TAH

BY TYLER THE CREATOR

JUST

BY RADIOHEAD

AESTHETIC:

Tags:

#sans undertale #undertale #sans au #dust sans #ink sans #killer sans #nightmare sans #error sans #cross sans #dream sans #sans x reader #sans x self insert #sans x oc

13 notes · View notes

forgodsgoddamnsake · 8 months ago

Text

HELL'S ANGELS - 2nd

Warning: Harry's kinda mean-not all the time bc you're mean too lol-, violence, mentions of ra#pe, murder, guns, language, mentions of prostitution, smut (NOT WITH YOU and i didn't write it in details)

As I sit there in the coffee shop to get a cup of cappuccino, my eyes wander, looking through the glass window. The cup, which is held between my hands, warms me. On the other hand, Harry’s diving in his own curiosity, wondering what has just happened with Alessandro.

“So?” He asks, falling into the trap of being the first to speak. My eyes’ attention is drawn back to Harry’s eyes. I bite my bottom lip as I think of what should be spoken about and what should not.

“What do you know about the Scavo?” I ask.

“Well, the Scavos were not a powerful family, they struggled so much in life and they blame it all on the powerful families. Once Alessandro ruled, they started getting more power and money. That’s it in a nutshell.”

“That’s right, but you don’t have the full story. My family had helped the Scavo because they were just so poor, my grandfather and my father after him really tried providing them with money, work, anything. Alessandro’s mother used to work as my nanny, she stayed with us to take care of me. I grew up with Elio and Alessandro, and Alessandro fell in love with me. When he became the ruler of the Scavo he told me that he loved me, I liked him, as well.” I stop, not wanting to tell the full story. But Harry won’t budge until he gets it.

“Go on.” He encourages, inspecting my face to search for an expression.

Sighing, I continue, “He told me that he wanted to marry me, at some point I really thought about it, but then when I told Elio about it, he told me that I shouldn’t even consider Alessandro. The Scavo built their families by pimping out girls, they still use prostitution to become wealthier, more powerful. Alessandro was the one that started the whole thing, but that’s not the worst of them. I already know that prostitution can still be a part of the families.”

“Exactly, what’s new about it? I know many families that are still involved in the human trafficking industry.”

“I could not accept that. I wanted to speak with Alessandro to talk him out of it, I went to his villa only to find him raping a girl. I can swear to god, that girl was barely sixteen.”

I get lost in my thoughts, absent-minded. My body is with Harry, but my mind drifts away to the day I went to Alessandro’s villa, hearing muffled screams of a girl. Two years later and I can still hear her broken voice, begging him to stop. That day, I walked up the stairs and put my ear on the door, I had to make sure what I was hearing war right. Her broken voice that was interrupted by his grunts, gave me goosebumps all over my body, I could feel the hairs in the back of my head stand. Slammed the door open only to see the worst image I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and I’ve seen a lot of bad scenes. As he got off of her, I threw her the clothes she had on and covered her with my black coat. Without a word, I helped her up on her feet, she was still crying like a baby. A broken baby. When I heard him telling me, ‘It’s not what it looks like’., I snapped. I pulled out my gun and pointed it at his head, his eyes closed, but I couldn’t shoot. Till this day, I have no idea why I didn’t shoot him. I should have shot him.

I don’t realize that I’m speaking to Harry. I think I’m just having thoughts, but I’m having the thoughts out loud.

“We were friends, I liked him. I can still remember all the good times we had together, but every memory was ruined by that day.” I say, not taking my eyes off of the vain.

Harry doesn’t know what to say, lost in his own thoughts of what I’ve just told him.

“Do you want to take him down?” He asks, gritting his teeth.

I look him in the eyes, his eyes have the same desire to break Alessandro just like mine.

“You don’t even have to ask.”

He spreads his hand to me, “Then, let’s take the son of a bitch down.”

I look at his hand before giving him mine, shaking his hand.

That deal will become the root Harry and I put down. The root to our first real interaction as partners, working on the same side instead of working against each other. Just like I hate human trafficking, Harry despises it. And just as much as Harry hates Alessandro, I despise him, as well.

My phone rings and I see the name of Bianca on the screen, I pick up the phone, “Shit! I totally forgot.” I say before answering, “Hello, beauty, sorry I’m not available now. Reschedule?”

The voice of Bianca yells from the other end, “No! Get your ass here right now!”

“I’m with Harry, Bianca.”

“I don’t care who y- wait? Harry? Your fiancé? Oh my god bring him with you! I want you here in five minutes tops.” Her tones go from up to down and then up again before she hangs up.

My eyes look at Harry’s face, “Wanna come? No? I thought so.” I ask and answer in a matter of seconds, not giving him the opportunity to answer.

“Hey, hey! Go where?” He asks with furrowed eyebrows.

“Ugh, Bianca is making me try the dress I chose for the wedding. She wants you to come.” I say, gathering my things to leave, standing up.

He stands up as well, “I’m coming with you.” He smirks, loving annoying me.

We leave the coffee shop and get into the car, I start the engine only to hear him laughing out of nowhere. I look at him, raising my eyebrows, “Are you crazy?”

“It’s just funny imagining you in a wedding dress.” He answers, still laughing at the image of me in a white dress.

“Why’s that? Am I that unfit to wear a wedding dress?” I start driving, irritated.

“Well, yeah.”

“What?”

“You’re not the usual girly.” He shrugs, pulling out his phone.

“You prefer weak girls? Sorry, you’re not marrying one.”

“I don’t prefer weak girls, and certainly don’t prefer you.”

“Bite me, Harry.” I roll my eyes as he’s scrolling on his phone.

“Bitch.” He mutters.

“Son of a bitch.” I mutter.

As I pull over by the place I should go and act like I give a fuck, I snatch my purse and get out, forgetting that I have a guy walking next to me. To be honest, I’m not forgetting him, I’m pretending to forget his existence. His tall figure, on the other hand, is not forgettable.

I walk in just to be hugged out of nowhere by Bianca who looks super excited. The place is full of white wedding dresses on mannequins everywhere. Harry smiles to himself, I don’t know that just like I don’t know that he’s loving the idea of being with me to try wedding dresses. Harry has been living the life of a king, has countless women to sleep with every day, owning whatever place his foot steps in. He knows that his ego is similar to mine. As if he owns whatever on top of the earth and what’s underneath.

Bianca pulls away from the hug, “Hi, Harry.” She says, shaking Harry’s hand, shyly. He shakes her hand back and smiles at her shyness.

To my surprise, I see Elio sitting on a luxurious couch in front of the fitting rooms, having a nap. I walk to him and lean down to his ear, “Elio!” I yell as he jumps in his place, looking around like a lost puppy.

“What? Is there a problem with the deal?” He, sleepily, asks. I laugh at him before drawing my attention to the assistant that will bring the dresses for me to try on.

Harry takes a seat next to Elio who’s cursing me, Harry chuckles and says hi to Elio.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asks, taking off his suit jacket and placing it next to him.

“Bianca forced me. She needs someone to control y/n.” Elio answers, rubbing his eyes.

“Is it that hard?” Harry arches a brow.

“Oh, you have no idea.” Elio says, watching as Bianca forces me to take off my jacket.

Harry watches us as well, chuckling as I’m arguing with Bianca.

“Bianca, you don’t want me to take it off.” I argue, trying to hold onto my jacket that she’s trying to undress me of.

“No way, take it off!” She insists as she pulls it off only to be surprised that there’s a bulge under my bodysuit. Her hand enters my bodysuit through the collar, touching me to catch whatever this bulge is.

“Hey! That’s harassment.” I playfully accuse her just when she pulls out my knife from its housing, she raises the knife to look at it in disbelief.

“A knife, y/n!?” She exclaims.

“Did you expect a dick under my bodysuit?” I smirk and she just stares at me. I notice Harry and Elio laughing at us from the couch, enjoying the situation.

“A bride with a knife under her clothes, how convenient!” She scoffs, walking to Elio to hand him the knife. Elio takes it from her and places it between Harry and him.

Harry and Elio laugh harder as they watch me pull out a couple of bullets from my bra, handing them to the surprised Biana whose mouth is open wide.

“Y/n, all of them.” Elio demands with a smile on his face.

I roll my eyes and pull out a Swiss knife from my jeans pocket, I hand it to the open palm of Bianca. She gives me a look, not believing that’s all I have.

“What? There’s nothing else.” I cross my arms. My eyes draft to Elio who’s chuckling and then to Harry who has a wide smile on his face.

He will deny it, but he’s having fun. Bianca walks again to Elio to give him the bullets and my Swiss knife then walks back to me with a threatening look, pointing her finger at me, “If I find any more weapons on you while we’re in the fitting room, I’ll make Harry strip search you.”

I am startled by her bringing up Harry in her words. On the other hand, Harry is smiling, “Will be my pleasure.”

I look at her with a confused face, “Why him?”

“Because it’ll be weird to make Elio do that.” She answers, simply, dragging me to the fitting room.

As I try arguing with Bianca to let me try the dress I chose earlier, she finally lets me try it after a hundred dress I hate. I look at my reflection in the mirror, this is what I look like in a big wedding dress. Like a beautiful woman in a wedding dress, I look. With no weapons on me, my fingers feel the fabric of the dress. Bianca looks at me with teary eyes, fingers intertwined, she thinks I’m the most beautiful bride she’s ever seen.

“Let’s show them the dress.” She says, opening the door of the fitting room.

“Isn’t it bad luck when the groom sees the bride in the wedding dress?” I ask.

“Nonsense, he has to see you! C’mon.” She encourages, helping me out of the fitting room. As I walk out of the fitting room, Harry’s eyes catch me walking towards them. His eyes inspect me from head to toe, he inspects my hourglass shape in the sparkly fabric, my skin tone, my cleavage, my hair that stops at the small of my back, and my face. I only see the warm smile that creeps on his face before I’m interrupted by Elio who takes me into his arms in a tight hug.

“You’re like a princess.” Elio says to me, pulling away from the hug and giving me a kiss on the cheek. I smile at his words before my I eyes look at my groom. But my groom has left, his seat is empty.

“Where did he go?” I ask Elio who looks at Harry’s empty seat.

“I don’t know, he was just here.”

I have no clue why, but my heart aches that he just left without I could see what look he had in his eyes when he saw me in the wedding dress. I didn’t get the chance to tease him, or to hear him give me a smirky response. In a minute he was there, and in a minute, he was no longer there. His absence has deeply affected my state, and I don’t have a clue why.

I am caught up in business. Going through meetings and controlling deals has been exhausting to the maximum, adding that Bianca won’t shut up about the wedding preparations. Getting Harry’s absence as he saw me in the wedding dress out of my mind has been quite challenging, but I put up with it just fine.

I still don’t want to marry him, I can’t see myself marrying, plus he’s a person I barely know. If I barely know him, then why am I so upset that he left me out of the blue?

The truth is, Harry didn’t like the feeling that he was happy seeing me wearing the wedding dress. Fear of liking me has started crawling into his head when he felt his heart hammering, looking at my attire. This is an arranged marriage, he shouldn’t like the bride, he shouldn’t pay her so much attention, his heart shouldn’t beat that fast. Or so he thinks. Because as a matter of fact, he likes me and that isn’t right to him.

Neither of us has given the wedding preparations any attention, we just know that tomorrow is the big day. Tomorrow, we will be destined to stay together for the rest of our lives, tomorrow the sun of loneliness will set only for the new sun of unity to rise. This day, Harry has decided to spend his night with his lovely Bella, a prostitute that he has claimed for himself a long time ago, she’s a blondie with beautiful blue eyes and she doesn’t act like a hooker so that’s why he gives her special attention. Right before the day he’ll get married, he’s fucking a prostitute in his bedroom. He has her pinned on the bed, hovering above her as he’s thrusting in and out of her in silence. Harry’s so focused on fucking his feelings, anger, desperation, out on her. Her screams, face, and the rest of her body are given little to no attention at all unlike what he’s used to. His mind is focused on reaching his high without any images of you interrupting his thoughts. He can hear Bella screaming that she’s cumming, but he just continues roughly fucking her senseless until he finally reaches his high. He falls down next to her on the bed, panting. The room is dark and only a ray of light creeping through the bedroom’s window, and through the darkness he can see me on his mind, walking towards him in the wedding dress. My features are drawn in his head as he remembers me, he huffs, disappointed in himself. He takes off his condom only to throw in the bin next to his bed. His posture is straightened, sitting on the edge of the bed, head between his hands, trying to throw the thoughts away. He’s not supposed to like me, he thinks. Everything he likes and sees in me only become more and more provoking.

He feels Bella’s arms crawl on his shoulders, fingers sneak on his skin just like her head that’s placed on his other shoulder. Speaking in a soft voice, she asks, “Why the long face, Harry? You’re never silent during sex.”

“Sorry, Bella.” He only manages to apologize, raising his head from his hands as he feels her breasts on his back.

“Don’t apologize, I just wanna know what’s on your pretty head.” She says, playing with his hair. With no clue, Harry doesn’t know why he’s hating her touch, though he’s never hated it before.

“Tomorrow.” He manages, eyes are looking at the floor.

“Not excited to being a married man?”

“No.”

“Is the bride ugly?” She asks, liking the idea of Harry thinking that his bride is ugly.

“No!” He answers in a harsher tone than he intends. “She’s so beautiful, she-You should go, Bella.” He says softly, gently removing her arms off of his body.

Bella’s startled face nods before she stands up to wear her clothes, while Harry is still on the bed, lost in his own mind, not even hearing Bella’s voice as she says her goodbye. Her eyes go down, leaving his bedroom and closing the door behind her on Harry’s lost mind.

Meanwhile, I’m in the balcony, drinking a cup of tea and smoking a cigarette, thinking of tomorrow. The future is terrifying. The past, once, was the future. If we knew the future, would it matter for the past? Would life become better if we had the precise knowledge of time? I am utterly unaware of what life has for me, but is that a good thing? I do not have any idea how life with Harry will be, but I’m certain that I’m uncertain.

The wedding day.

Without the both of us realizing it, Harry and I are both looking at our reflections in the mirror. He’s inspecting his image in his own mirror, in his room, while I’m inspecting my image in my own mirror, in my room. My fingers feel the silver dress I have on my body, carving my shape. The makeup I have on only exudes my beauty, and the nails I have on only show how pretty my hands are, and every effort in my look only screams beauty. On the other hand, Harry is watching how handsome he looks in his expensive tuxedo. He hates the bow around his neck as much as I hate the high heels on my feet. But both of us, don’t look happy.

The wedding ceremony is right down there, in Paolo’s gardens of the mansion. But I’m still in my room, and Harry’s now is waiting for me. As I sit on the edge of my bed that I’m leaving for good, the door opens and I see Paolo along with Elio entering my room, I get a glimpse of my bridesmaids standing outside in their black dresses. My face doesn’t have the slightest trace of happiness, and both Elio and Paolo notice.

“Sei bellissima.” My father says, feeling his heart pound in his chest as he looks at his beautiful daughter in a wedding dress. Any father’s best day of life, is the day they see their beloved child in a wedding dress, ready to start their own families.

“She really is beautiful, uncle.” Elio agrees, noticing my sad face. Elio squats to level with my face, holding my hand. “Don’t be sad, everything will be alright, I promise.”

“I don’t wanna leave you and father.” I confess, trying not to cry, and with no doubt, I succeed.

“You’re not leaving, you’ll be living less than fifteen minutes away.” Elio assures me.

Though my father wants to calm me down, he doesn’t do that. Instead, my father says in a husky voice, “Get a grip, y/n! You’re doing this for the family.”

Elio hates the tone of my father, because Elio always has had a soft spot towards me, he treats me like a girl unlike my father. I nod at my father’s words and stand up, chin up, “I’m ready.” I say, confidently, sucking in every sadness in me.

Elio stands up again, sighing deeply as I take off of the room, arm in arm with Paolo. The bridesmaids are following as I take my steps down the stairs before walking to the gardens. The golden-colored and white flowers are everywhere, the welcome stand has my name and Harry’s on, the giveaways of candles for the guests are set on a beautiful wooden wide table. Everything seems like I’m marrying the love of my life, but I’m not, I’m marrying someone I don’t know. The veil that’s following me, I should love, but I don’t. The guests who’re enjoying their time, watching the bride walk down the aisle, I could not give a careless about. All I see is the beautiful altar that is decorated beautifully with light veins and flowers, and I can also see the man waiting for me at the end. A man whose hair is brushed back and eyes are watching every step I take along with my father. He looks handsome in jeans, but he looks even more breathtaking in a tuxedo.

As Harry’s standing there, he looks like he’s seeing a lovely painting, painted by Van-Gogh. His heart is hammering as my father brings him in a hug before he finds my hand in his. We both make our way to the priest, standing opposite to each other. None of us dare to look at each other, but we have to.

I raise my eyes up to see how handsome my future husband is. The dimples that are hidden because he’s not smiling, the pink lips which I will kiss, the skin of his face, the eyelashes, the green eyes that look like grass after a rainy day, all of this shall be mine. But will they actually be mine?

He raises his eyes up to see how gorgeous his future wife is. The painted full lips, the body carved by gods, the smile that’s missing, the thick lashes, the tone of skin, the hazel eyes that look like the sun after a rainy day, all of this shall be his. But will they actually be his?

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God to witness and celebrate the holy union of Y/N and Harry. Since it is your intention to enter into the covenant of Holy Matrimony, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church” The priest says, pulling both of us of our thoughts.

Harry takes a deep breath, following the priest’s words, “I, Harry Styles, take you, Y/N Cappitani, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life”

His words mean so much, yet so little.

I sigh, deeply, following the priest’s words, “I, Y/N Cappitani, take you, Harry Styles, to be my husband. I promise to be faithful to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love you and to honor you all the days of my life”

I don’t mean a single word I say. I don’t know you, Harry. I think.

The priest says his blessing over the wedding rings. Tyler, Harry’s friend brings him my ring. Slipping the ring on my finger, Harry says following the priest’s words, “Y/N, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit”

I automatically do the same, placing the ring around his finger, following the priest’s words, “Harry, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit”

I get lost in my thoughts again, I don’t hear a word the priest says, but I only get snapped out of it once I hear the word ‘Kiss’. Oh, hell no.

My eyes wander between Harry and the priest, shaking my head no, but Harry only grins at me.

“Kiss?” The priest asks, looking at me while shrugging his shoulders.

“Of course not! My father is here.” I refuse and everyone bursts into laughter. Paolo laughs, nodding his head at me as an approval.

“We have to kiss.” Harry’s grin widens, pulling at my hand so I stand in his arms. His body is rock-hard or I feel so. I can feel the heat up my cheeks, not letting my eyes off of the guests, avoiding Harry’s gaze.

“I can’t kiss a boy in front of my father!” I state only for the laughter to grow louder.

“Just kiss him already!” Elio yells, chuckling at me.

“I’m your husband now, I can kiss you whenever I want.” Harry whispers into my ear and I only feel my cheeks getting hotter. I have never been in a situation like this.

With wide eyes, I feel Harry’s hands cupping my cheeks and pulling my head slightly forward. His head leans down, his breath hits my lips right before his lips gently touch mine. His lips are the softest lips I’ve ever felt in my entire life, his minty breath draws me into kissing him back. I can feel the warmth that suddenly hit my whole body just by the touch of his lips, and I can feel the butterflies growing in my stomach. The kiss is gentle and sweet, and it feels so good to kiss someone you’re meant to kiss. Pulling away, I sigh with my lips apart, I want to kiss him again, I shouldn’t. Get a grip! I think.

Harry’s grin fires my craving to his kiss again, but the cheering I hear stops me. His eyes look more beautiful from this distance.

The celebration is nice, but my head is still lingering on the memory of my first kiss with Harry. Elio has a lot of fun, dancing with girls here and there, enjoying his time. Everyone seems to be happy with the unity of the Cappitani and the Styles. After a while, as Harry and I are sitting next to each other, having glasses of champagne. Elio clicks on his glass to make a toast.

“Oh God, he’s gonna tell an embarrassing story.” My palm finds my forehead, Harry smiles and watches Elio who stands up from his chair and grabbing the mic from someone I don’t care to know.

“Hello everyone,” He starts, talking from the mic. “We’re here to celebrate the wedding of my beautiful y/n. Y/n is the most amazing person you can ever know in your life, she has the biggest heart although she’s very bad at showing it.” Everyone laughs. “She’s independent, powerful, strong, and every good quality in the book. Don’t worry, y/n, I won’t talk about the time you punched a guy just because he confessed his love to you. I hope you don’t punch Harry today.”

“I will.” I smile, giving him a thumbs up as Harry’s giggling next to me.

“And Harry, if you ever have trouble controlling her, call me.”

“I’ll take care of it, Elio.” Harry replies, chuckling.

“The last thing I wanna say is, Y/n is my sister, she’s everything in my life, she’s the backbone every guy needs in life. Harry, she will stand tall in the darkest times even if you wish to get down on your knees, she’ll always pull you up. Y/n will move heaven and earth for someone she cares about, so make sure to be that someone. To Y/N and Harry!” He raises his glass and everyone follows, cheering and clicking their glasses.

I smile to Elio who smiles back at me. I love him more than he even can realize.

A couple of people make their toasts, but as the last one is making his toast, “I wish you both the b-“

He’s interrupted by a loud clicking sound on a glass, our eyes follow the sound. The sound comes from the glass Alessandro holds in his hand as he stands by Harry and I’s table. He has a black suit on, but the bags under his eyes are darker than his suit. His silver hair is messy and he looks terribly sad.

“It’s my time to make a toast!” Alessandro starts, eyes look crazy as he watches men stand up and before our men grab their guns, Alessandro’s men raise their guns up, I notice two of them holding machine guns pointing them at everyone. Harry looks startled but makes a good job hiding it, but he can’t lift the gun under his jacket as one of Alessandro’s men point their own gun at his head. How are they here? The mansion should be protected.

“No need for violence, for now.” Alessandro says, deepening his voice at the last part. “I wanna say, Y/n has played a huge part in my life. An excruciating part, actually. I fell in love with everything about her, every little detail, hear me?” His words are directed to Harry, eyes are crazy with anger as he’s looking at Harry. Harry’s lips turn upside down in both disgust and anger, wishing he can shoot Alessandro in the head. “She was so sweet to me, so beautiful. Honey, I never could see you in another man’s arms, I couldn’t let him have you. You saved yourself for me, remember? You fucking saved yourself for me! How could you?” As his words turn to me, his tone of voice gets nicer and softer. I look him in the eyes with no expression, getting comfortable in my chair, arms crossed. “You just come and take her? Huh? What do you even know about her? Tell me Harry, what’s y/n’s favorite color?”

“Black.” Harry answers, confidently. The answer is correct.

“Oh yeah? What’s her favorite meal? What angers her? What’s her favorite place?” Alessandro walks closer to Harry, the glass in his hand shakes as his hand shakes.

“Pasta. Disrespect and underestimation. Paul’s coffee shop.” Harry answers, looking into Alessandro’s black eyes with nothing but confidence, certainty and rage.

I am surprised that he gets all the answers right, but my eyes are still on Alessandro who’s annoyed and insane. “Are you done?” I ask in monotonic voice.

“Sorry, am I boring you?” He asks, moving behind my chair.

“Very.” I answer as I feel his nose brush onto my hair, sniffing me. His eyes close as he breathes in my scent.

“If you touch her, I’ll blow your brains out.” Harry growls, biting his bottom lip.

“Don’t worry, darling. He knows better.” I smirk as Alessandro’s face is in sight, his face is dangerously close to mine. Everyone’s eyes are on the situation, not even one person can pull up their gun. Women and girls looking afraid, fear eating their skins.

“Do I, Y/n? All I wanna do is touch you.” His hand hovers above my cheeks, wanting to touch me but not actually doing so. “I wanna touch you so bad.”

“Are you done?” I ask again, glaring at him.

“No! He!” He pulls up his black metal gun and points it at Harry’s forehead in frustration. “He took you from me.”

“Exactly, so gather your puppies and get out or I won’t be so nice.” Harry makes eye contact with Alessandro, not intimidated by the guns pointed at him.

“Let’s be clear, Alessandro. If you harm Harry, I’ll kill you. I should’ve done that when I had the chance.” I say, slowly.

Alessandro’s eyes go down, feeling a gun under his chin. My gun. No one has imagined that a bride will have a gun under her dress, but I do. I hold the gun, the tip of my gun right under his chin. Temptation eats me to kill him.

“You wouldn’t do that.” Alessandro softens his voice, not believing that I’d do that.

“Try me.” I shrug.

“But I love you!” He screams, crazily.

“I don’t give the slightest fuck. Tell your men to leave. NOW!” I shout the last part, feeling the gun’s weight heavies in my hand due to the fact I’m fighting the urge to shoot.

A moment of silence. I know Alessandro thinks of every possibility to kill Harry without losing me, but he can’t. His face darkens with more sadness and lowers his gun, nodding his head at his men. They put down their guns but stand still.

“Now all of you leave!” I order, not lowering my gun. Alessandro straightens up to swallow his glass of champagne to the last drop, then looks at me.

“You’re the most beautiful thing in the world.” He says with complete adoration eating his eyes, but suddenly he’s snatched and thrown on the table in front of me with a loud thug.

Harry has snatched him by the collar and thrown him on the table, Harry who’s pinning Alessandro down, hand holding him by the collar while his other hand is holding onto his gun and pointing at Alessandro’s forehead. My eyes widen as all of this happens in a matter of seconds, jumping up from my seat. Harry’s eyebrows are furrowed, lips turned upside down and eyes are just wide with rage.

“Hahaha,” Alessandro laughs after he’s swallowed the surprise. “Do it, please. She’ll be the last thing my eyes see.”

“Don’t fucking mention her one more time! She’s MY wife! She’s all mine! She’s my wife, you piece of shit!” Harry sees red as he’s yelling in Alessandro’s face.

Our families’ guns are pointed now at Alessandro’s men and I see Elio standing next to me, pointing his gun at the guy who had a gun at Harry’s head a minute ago. “Don’t even think about it.” Elio growls at the guy.

The whole situation is complete and utter chaos. That’s what happens every time Alessandro makes an appearance.

“She’ll never be yours, she loves me. She’s always loved me.” Alessandro’s voice is daring.

I see the guy Elio’s pointing at is taking a step closer slowly towards Harry. Elio follows and takes a step forwards to the guy, “I fucking dare you to take one more step!” Elio threatens.

“No, you piece of shit!” Harry’s hand tightens around his gun. “Joke’s on you, she’s mine. She’ll love me, and I’ll do everything you can’t do to her. I’ll love her, I’ll protect her! And listen to this, motherfucker, I’ll even FUCK HER!” Harry shouts, pulling Alessandro up by the collar only to smash him back down on the table.

I look over at the table and I see Paolo’s gaze on me, I know that look very well. His eyes tell me to take control. His expressionless face tells me to stop this situation at once.

“You won’t, know why? Because she only wants m-“ Alessandro objects, but is interrupted by a loud sound of a gunshot.

All eyes but Harry’s are on me as my arm is fully raised as I shoot at the sky. I glare at everybody in sight as Harry throws a punch to Alessandro’s face. “GO FUCKING ON!” Harry yells, ready to kill his anger out.

“Harry,” I softly call lowering my arm, but his eyes won’t leave Alessandro. “Harry, please, let me handle this.” I ask, gently, as my hand feels his hand that’s holding the gun. His hand finally lowers down and his eyes calm a bit, but they don’t let Alessandro out of sight. I take the chance to push Harry gently away while Alessandro is still on the table, laughing.

I grab Alessandro by the collar up on his feet and I whisper something only him and I can hear. His fingers trace over my hand that’s around his collar and smiles, “I’ve missed your touch.” He says.

Harry who fumes and walks towards Alessandro again once he hears Alessandro’s words, has been stopped by his friend Tyler whose gun is also pointed somewhere. “Wait, Harry, let her handle him.” Tyler speaks softly to Harry.

“Go!” I demand, letting go of Alessandro.

Alessandro stands there, towering over me and smiling widely at me. He’s loving the moment he’s close to me, wanting to savor it. He nods before he walks away with his men following him and as he’s walking, I call, “Alessandro!”

He turns around to look at me just to jump in his place once he hears the gunshot of my gun, he looks next to him to the guy who’s now dead. His head looks up at me with surprise.

“This is the guy that had his gun at Harry.” I explain and then shoot again just for another guy to fall down. “And this is the guy that betrayed us and let you in.”

He laughs, insanely, clapping his hands “You rock! I’ll take them to save you the trouble.”

He motions to the rest of his men to grab the dead bodies as I lower my gun. Killing is not my first option, only when it’s necessary. Harry stands behind me, his hand at the lower of my back and I let out a breath I don’t know I’m keeping in.

“I wanna leave.” I whisper, but he hears my voice clearly just as much he feels my agony.

Harry opens the passenger door for me, we have arrived at Harry’s penthouse. He snatches me out of my thoughts by this action, he gives me a hand out of car. It’s easy to get out of the car because I changed previously into a white plain dress. The dress is silky and is covering my cleavage but showing so much of my legs and back. I take his hand as we walk into the building and right into the elevator, without a single word spoken. Silence is a blessing as much as it’s a curse. You can appreciate silence either when you have too much to say, or when you completely have no words to form. And also, these are the same reason you can depreciate silence for. We stand apart from each other as the elevator levels up and up. Harry’s hands in his pockets and I can feel his fighting an urge to look at me. When the sound of the elevator beeps, ending the silence, we both get out and as I take my first step into the apartment I’ll live in, I see that the penthouse looks so good. It’s modern-styled, most colors are either white, grey or black, it lacks the touch of a woman.

“Let me show you around?” Harry suggests, placing his keys on the kitchen counter. I nod and follow him.

“This is the living room as you can see,” He points at the living room, it has a huge TV screen that can be used for movie nights and modern white couch with no cushions. The place is minimalistic. Too minimalistic for my liking. But the panoramic huge glass window makes up for the shitty decoration. “The kitchen is open, do whatever you want in there.” He points, the kitchen is also white and there’s nothing on the counter but the coffee machine. The kitchen looks luxurious.

As we walk inside, “This is the guest’s bathroom. This is a guest’s room.” He shows me both and I like the space in each room. “My office and right next to it is your office.” He opens the first room and it’s too white, it must be torturous to sit there. My office is plain and my eyes furrow as I see it, “I didn’t do anything in here, I want you to decorate it as you want.” He explains as he sees the look on my face.

I nod at him and we continue walking, “A gym room.” The gym room has a lot of necessary equipment and a punching bag. I like it.

We stand by the last door; his eyes smile though his lips don’t. “Last but not least, the main bedroom.” He opens the door and I see a huge room; the colors of the walls are different from the rest of the penthouse. The walls are latte-colored, a much warmer color. A huge bed by the wall, and that wall is completely cushioned. I enter the room and explore, there’s a big dressing room and I think Bianca’s taken care of my unpacking for me. A vanity stands there with so much makeup and perfumes I never bought, I look at Harry. Everything has a high-class logo on it.

“Did Bianca buy me these?” I ask Harry, suddenly loving being a little girly.

“No, I did.” He answers, not giving me an expression. “Do you like the place?” He asks, not realizing that he wants me to actually like the place I’ll be living in.

I take a moment, “No.” I answer as he hides his disappointment. “The place looks like no one’s been living here for too long. It needs more decorations.”

He clears his throat, “I bought this place three years ago and I only come here once a month to check up on it. I haven’t actually lived here.” He answers, truthfully.

“Why?” I ask, sitting on the vanity’s chair to take off my makeup.

He doesn’t answer, he just looks at me as he leans on the door frame, watching as I take off my makeup with a cotton round. Inspecting my skin color as I move, his mind wanders.

“What did you whisper to Alessandro?” He asks, falling in the trap of curiosity.

I finish taking off all the makeup, not giving Harry even the slightest eye contact. Standing up and walking towards the dressing room, his eyes follow me. I turn my head to look at him through the dressing room’s glass wall, “Do you wanna sleep here or in the guests’ room?” I ask, avoiding his question.

Not that he has thought I’d let him have sex with me, but he at least has thought we’d have a decent conversation. I think that we don’t have anything to talk about, we shouldn’t even pretend that we like each other and force a conversation. We’re just two strangers locked together in an inescapable cage. Marriage. As much as I really want to prove people right, I can’t guarantee that I’ll act like a real married woman. And I know for sure and certain that he can’t guarantee that he has the determination to become a real married man.

“I’ll go out, you can sleep here.” He answers and I nod. I turn my head, thinking he’s left, I pull out a pajama to sleep in. I let the spaghetti straps of my dress fall off my shoulders just for the dress to fall down around my feet, I stand there in my white black lace thin panties and no bra, my back faces Harry’s eyes that still watch my half naked body.

I pull on my pajama shorts after pulling off my high heels, and as I put on my pajama blouse I turn around to an empty room.

Fucking a prostitute on his wedding night is the last thing Harry’s thought would happen. But it happens. Because in the middle of the night, I wake up to muffled man moans and woman screams of pleasure. I straighten my posture on the bed, looking at the clock, still hearing the sounds along with a sound of a bed banging on the wall. I rub my face, not realizing what in hell is happening. I take off the blanket of my body, stand up to walk out of my bedroom. The voices are getting louder with every step I take towards the guests’ room and that is when it hits me. The guests’ room’s door is right in front of me, and I can hear the woman’s voice screaming his name and hear Harry’s voice.

“Louder!” He screams as if he wants me to hear it.

Rage runs through my veins, and I feel like I can’t do anything. I have no idea what I should do. Should I barge in and kill them both? Should I let them have their fun? Or should I leave once and for all? And as I stand there, thinking and drowning in my own thoughts, I hear them both release their damned climaxes. How convenient!

I’ll make him regret it.

I noticed earlier that he has a cabinet in his office filled with guns and there was a baseball bat. NO! That’s shouldn’t be something I do now. Why am I so upset? Of course, I’m upset. He’s my husband and he’s fucking a girl in our home on our wedding night.

Harry who lays there, panting, doesn’t give the girl the chance to cuddle with him and coldly orders, “Get your things and leave.”

The girl pats her eyelashes at him, but he just looks at her with a stone-cold expression so she does what she’s ordered. Once she’s out of his bedroom, he stands up and pulls up his boxers, getting out of the room. He tiptoes his way towards the bedroom, slowly opening the door slightly only to see my body on the bed, sleeping. He sighs and turns around to leave.

My eyes are open as I feel him open the door, and I have a poker face on. I dive my face into the pillow when he closes the door, letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding the whole time.

The door of my office opens and there is Harry’s figure, looking at me as I check my guns and weapons before I place them in the cabinet. I sit on a leather chair, checking a nickel gun in my hand and I don’t give Harry any attention though I feel him entering the office. I’ve changed so much in my office in a couple of hours. I have a modern desk and some electronics on top, a few green plants and some decorations such as the paintings hanging on the walls. A small couch and a small library filled with books.

“Good morning.” He starts, but I don’t return it. “When did you do all that?”

My eyes look in front of me to the vain, I make a clicking sound with the gun I have in my hands.

“Breakfast is on the kitchen counter.” I say in a monotonic voice, putting the gun in the cabinet before closing it.

“Are you okay?” He asks, thinking I don’t have a reason to be this silent. In the end, he thinks I was asleep last night as he fucked a girl on our wedding night.

I stand up, facing him with a big smile on my face, “Of course! I have to go out now.” I say, walking past him and out the door.

It’s not easy to control a girl like me, he can’t just pin me against a wall and demand answers.

He stands there, not realizing a word that’s come out of me and just when he snaps out of it, he jogs to follow me only to see the elevator doors close while I’m inside. He places his forehead on the elevator doors, sighing, “Oh God, what have I done?”

I disappear for a whole day, Harry hears nothing from me and he can’t just ask someone to look for me because that’ll put him on the spot of what he has done, so he’s decided to look for me on his own. He’s went to my favorite coffee shop, he’s kept driving around, searching for a trace of me or my car, but he can’t find me. He makes his way back to the penthouse, thinking I may have returned. He’s right. So right. Once he takes his first step into the penthouse, he hears moaning. His eyes widen, trying to question his own hearing, walking down the hall to the bedroom only for him to hear me moaning a man’s name and he also finds a man’s moaning coming from the room. He slams the room’s door open.

I smirk at him, sitting on the futon by the bed, fully clothed in the same outfit I’ve had on before leaving, all alone, and there’s a porn video playing on my laptop that’s placed on the bed. His eyes are still wide, looking around the room, looking for the man he thinks is hiding. I can feel his anger by watching his flared nostrils, the vein that’s popping in his forehead and his clenched jawlines.

I press the pause button on the laptop, “Not a very pleasant surprise, eh?” I ask, smirking slightly at his anger.

“Why?” He wonders, taking a step into the room and closer to me.

“You know why. Fucking another girl on our wedding night isn’t a pleasant surprise, too.”

“It’s not like I’m cheating, we don’t care about each other!” He yells, angrily.

“It is cheating. I’m your wife, son of a bitch!” I yell back, standing up, facing him.

“It’s an arranged marriage, it’s not like I want to touch you.”

“Do I look like I’m dying to suck your dick?”

“Here we go again with the smarty shit!”

“If you desperately love hookers, you can take them anywhere but here!”

“It’s my house! I can do whatever I want!” He yells at my face and I glare at him.

“Everything Alessandro says sounds so right now.” I growl, making my way past him to leave, but he grabs my arm.

“What did you just say?” He glares back at me.

“Are you deaf? He’s right, I won’t ever give myself to a piece of shit like you.” I spit the truth, not the full truth but still.

“You have a filthy mouth.” He bites his bottom lip in frustration, tightening his grip around my arm.

“Just like yours.” I free my arm from his hand and walk out of the room and in to the room’s bathroom. I slam the door behind me and sit on the floor, trying to hold back the tears I’ve kept. Since I’m alone, I let my tears fall down my cheeks, sniffing the sadness I feel from remembering Harry’s voice out the door. I can’t feel that, but Harry stands by the bathroom’s door, palms spread on the door frame and head down. He wants to say he’s sorry, but he can’t.

I stand up to look at my reflection in the wide mirror of the bathroom, my eyes are blood red from all the tears I’ve managed. I turn on the water to splash my face, breathe in, breathe out. I make my way to the door, open it to find no one’s there. I quickly grab new clothes and walk to the bathroom again to take a shower, not bothering to look for Harry.

Standing under the shower, the hot water drops hit my skin in the loveliest way, washing away the feelings. I raise my head up so the drops hit my face, doing so I get glimpses of Harry in every encounter we’ve had. His face is too unforgettable to just get out of the mind, his touch fires my heart like a bullet.

I’ve always had my way with words, I can write poems of his features. Harry can’t be loved by just one heart, he’s worthy of a thousand hearts, but I only have one. He’s worthy of a heart to adore his voice, a heart to contemplate his silence, another heart for his eyes. I have a lot to say about him, but time isn’t enough. I hope there’s a way to get closer to him, just to touch him and forget about the rest of the world. He’s so easy to fall in love with, but I just can’t.

I make my way out of the bathroom with a towel around my body, but once I open the bathroom’s door, I see Harry’s body laying on the bed. His eyes inspect me, they wander, looking at the water drops the fall from the tips of my hair, the showing wet skin of mine, and my face that’s looking right at him. He grins at me and pats on the bed next to him, motioning for me to take a seat. Not controlling myself much, I do what he wants, sitting on the edge of the bed, but not giving him the pleasure of an eye contact.

I can feel his gaze on me, and all I can do is hold the towel tight around my body.

“You smell so good.” He starts, softly, his deep voice sends shivers down my spine, especially that I feel him move closer to me. I have this craving to let him touch me, but I stay silent. “Get dressed, I’m taking you out.” His voice gets sterner as he asks.

“Where?” I ask, hating how low my voice is.

“You’ll see.” He says, getting off the bed and walking away.

There’s a feeling in me that wants to give in to him, but desperately I hold this feeling back. I sigh, wishing I know more about him.

Harry opens the passenger door for me, I smile to myself at his gesture as I take a seat. He closes the door and walks around the car to open his own door and sits next to me. The smell of his wooden cologne makes him a little more attractive tonight, and since he’s wearing the infamous black shirt and black tight jeans, it drives my eyes to curiously wander to his tattoos. His body looks toned and very touchable. He catches my eyes and immediately I look away.

“Like what you see?” He grins, looking between me and the road.

“You’re not that bad, I was just wondering about your tattoos.” I answer, acting cool.

“What about them?” He asks, liking the simple conversation.

“How many do you have?”

“Ugh, I lost count. Do you have any tattoos?” He asks, casually.

“I have one, got it behind my father’s back when I was 17.” I chuckle, remembering.

“Tell me about it.” He asks me, nicely, having a smile on his face and I really get the urge to feel his dimples.

“It’s stupid. Elio and I decided we wanted tattoos like older people so we went to that tattoo place two blocks away. He had a tattoo on his thigh, and he hated the feeling of the needle. I teased him about it so he dared me to get a tattoo on my thigh as well, though I wanted one on my shoulder. I kept screaming at the tattoo artist and almost hit him.” I tell, giggling just like Harry.

“What did you get, then?” He asks, smiling.

A daring feeling get the best of me, so I raise my leg up on the console. I have a long black silky dress on, and it has the cut on one side so when I raise my leg up my whole right leg shows. Harry looks my leg up from the black heels I have on and down to my fully exposed thigh. My tattoo is a small daisy just a couple of inches away from my heat. His breathing gets harder as he eyes my flesh. I see him gulp and stiffen a little on his seat.

“It’s beautiful.” He manages, looking at the road again, trying to avoid the bulge that’s forming in his pants.

“Like what you saw?” I smirk, putting my leg down.

He gives me a single look that’s enough for me to feel myself get wetter, “I love it.”

With that he pulls over by a restaurant, he gets out of the car and walks over it to open the door for me. Once I’m completely out, he closes the door and takes my hand as we walk into the restaurant. He says his name to one of the employees and we take our seats at one of the tables. Although the restaurant is fancy, it’s also cozy so that makes me a little more comfortable in my seat.

“I pre-ordered for us if you don’t mind. Let’s hope you’ll like my choice.” Harry starts, he’s always the one that starts the conversation. And maybe this is something I like about him.

“No problem.” I smile softly. I can feel his eyes burning holes on my skin, he admires my skin tone as it glows in the light, my shiny long hair and every little detail about me. The ignorant me doesn’t know that he loves the fact that this woman before him is his. I have to admit, we -women-, hate to be thought of as a thing a man owns, we hate to be seen as a piece of decoration, but sometimes it feels good to feel owned by someone. If the person of interest treats you right, loves you, doesn’t ruin your life with his possessiveness, it’ll feel good to be owned by them. Owning a person doesn’t mean that you have the authority to stop them from something they like, it doesn’t mean to force them into something they don’t want, on the contrary, owning and being owned is more of a feeling. Security is the feeling, to be certain that your person is yours and only yours. It’s fascinating when you think about it, their body, hands, face, features, qualities and all is your own. Your own to admire and feel, not to destroy and ruin.

“Tell me more about you, y/n.” He, again, starts.

“Ugh, let me think. You already know too much about me, I’m not that open book.” I smile, sipping from my glass of fine wine.

“I’m your husband, I should know everything.” He plays his ‘Husband’ card again, and I let him.

“My mother died when she was having me, my father took care of me and Elio. I don’t know what else to say.” I chuckle like a little girl, slightly nervous.

“Anything you want to say, I’m all ears.” He smiles at me; his voice sends heat into my skin.

“Well, I was homeschooled, just like everyone. I don’t have friends other than my cousins. I got into business really young, father had me start from the least decent job.”

“From zero to hero.” He giggles, holding his glass of wine, sipping from it. “My dad did the same to me.”

“No wonder they’re friends.” I shrug, hands holding my arms.

“What about boyfriends? Had any?” His question startles me, though it’s a very expected question. I shake my head no and he asks again with furrowed eyebrows, “How so?”

“I was not the girl that dates around, I was only interested in my family business, my family and that was it, you know?” He nods his head only to startle me again with another question.

“Then what was Alessandro?”

“Ugh, he was never my boyfriend, I was into him at some point, but he started creeping me out. He’d talk to people as if we were together, he had this imaginary idea of me saving myself for him, but that’s not the truth.”

“What’s the truth, then?” He asks, grinning, enjoying my denial to Alessandro’s claims.

“As I said, I was not the girl to date. That’s why I never wanted someone enough to sleep with. I like tough guys, tough enough to stand up to me.” I look into his eyes and I can see his eyes grin just like his mouth. “What about you? Had a girlfriend?”

Sipping the last drop of his glass, “Oh yeah! To be honest, I’ve had many.”

“You give the vibe of a fuckboy anyways.” I tease, holding the wine glass in between my fingers.

“Unfortunately, I believe you.”

“Have you ever fallen in love?”

It seems like my question is unexpected to him, because his face goes down just when the words come out of my mouth. The silence is broken by the waitress bringing our plates and refilling our glasses, we give her a thanks and once she leaves I see that Harry has ordered fancy pasta with pesto sauce. My eyes look up to him again and I feel the mood goes down.

“Harry?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He sternly, says.

“Understandable.” I nod and bring my fork to eat.

Not that I am not curious, but I know that I need to respect other people’s choice of not talking. The rest of the night goes well, to my surprise. Talking and teasing each other all the time. And when it’s time to go home, driving back to our place, I hear him sigh.

“I wanted to apologize for what happened on our wedding night. I shouldn’t have done that, I just thought you didn’t care.” He apologizes, and it seems like it’s hard for him to do so.

“Apology accepted. Now you know that I do care.” I say as he pulls over by our building, pulling the handbrake. I have got no clue why, but watching his hand pull the handbrake turns me on, maybe it’s the way I see how big his hands are around it, or maybe my imagination that wanders of the things his hands can do.

He rests in his seat, facing me and looking into my eyes, his look like grass after a rainy day.

“Your eyes look like grass after a rainy day.” I confess, his eyes widen a little. “What?”

“That’s so weird. I always thought that yours look like the sun after a rainy day.” He confesses back and we both smile at each other.

His scent drives me insane, and all I can think about is our first kiss at the altar. His lips were so gentle yet so dominant, I wish I could kiss them again. His hand comes closer to me, pulling a strand of my hair, feeling it. His eyes go from my hair to my lips, thinking about the chance to actually kiss me again. Biting my lip, nervously, I see him lean in closer to me. His lips are inches away from mine, breathing onto them, partially open.

Temptation grows and butterflies fly in my stomach as with every breath I smell his cologne. A small strand of his soft brown hair falls on his forehead, and his eyes look down with deep desire at my lips which are apart.

“Do you want to kiss me?” Softly, I ask, falling into the same trap Harry falls into every time.

With frustrated long sigh, he pulls away from me, clenching his hands and craving to feel my skin on his hands. I let out a deep breath, disappointed. I look away and open the door next to me, but I feel his hand grabs my arm roughly, pulling me closer. In just one swift move, he leans in and crashes our lips together.

Heat along with desire burst from the kiss. His lips are as soft as a cloud, and though it’s very dominant. His lips nib onto mine, exploring the details of my lips. Caught up in the bliss of the moment, I give in and kiss him back. His hands make their way around my waist, trying to pull me closer to him. While his hands enjoy the feeling of my shape, my fingers run through his soft locks, deepening the steamy kiss. Filled with built up frustration, Harry’s lips pull my bottom lip. His teeth gently follow his lips move, giving me the attention, I crave. I can taste the wine on his full lips just like he can taste it on mine. The passion he puts into the kiss tells me that he really is determined to savor the moment, savor the taste of my lips on his.

Just when I thought the moment would last forever, he pulls away, panting on my lips. His forehead on mine for a second before he completely pulls away and just like that I miss his touch around me, I miss his lips on mine again.

His gaze is turned on the cement of the road, “We shouldn’t.” That’s the only thing he manages.

I bite my lip, still feeling his left scent on my lips. Violently, I make my way out of the car, not closing the door behind me. I walk towards the building in the most powerful, yet seductive way. Not feeling it, but his eyes are on me as I’m walking.

If he thinks it’s fine to kiss me just to pull away, then I’ll give him a taste of his own medicine.

War it is.

20 notes · View notes