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kaiser1ns · 4 months ago

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#. IT SUITS YOU . . . !

featuring 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 ıllı. umemiya hajime, takiishi chika togame jo, kaji ren, suo hayato, kiryu mitsuki, sakura haruka, endo yamato

fluff. he thought there was no other way to make him love you more until he saw you in his clothes.

UMEMIYA HAJIME

It was unbearably hot outside, so you and Umemiya decided to spend the day indoors, lounging on the couch and eating ice cream while watching some random show on Netflix. You thank the people who decided to create the air conditioning, and the ice cream felt heavenly against your tongue.

Halfway through the second episode, you managed to get a dollop of ice cream on your shirt. "Ugh, I'll be right back," you said, heading to the bedroom to change.

You rummaged through your drawers but couldn't find anything, then you stopped at a very interesting design as you grabbed one of Umemiya's shirts from the closet. It was soft and smelled like him, instantly making you feel cozy.

When you returned to the living room, you saw Umemiya's eyes widen and his jaw drop. In his shock, he accidentally let go of his ice cream, which fell to the ground with a splat.

"Ume, what was that for?" you asked, grabbing a wipe to clean up the mess.

It was strangely quiet, and when you looked up, you saw him staring at you with heart eyes, a blush spreading across his cheeks, and a huge, adoring smile on his face. His hand was clutching his chest dramatically.

"PUMPKIN, YOU ARE SO CUTE!" he screamed, fangirling, waving his imaginary tail like a little puppy. The sight was absolutely adorable. He started to pull off his own t-shirt, "PLEASE PUT THIS ONE!" You laughed and stopped him, "Another time, baby."

Days later, you were doing the laundry and noticed most of the clothes in the basket were Umemiya's. Little did you know, he had secretly left most of his shirts in your wardrobe during his sleepovers. But that was a secret, a sweet gesture of his love that you didn't need to know about.

TAKIISHI CHIKA

You woke up early on a lazy Sunday morning, the sun just beginning to filter through the curtains as you stroll into the kitchen, trying to find something to eat while dressed in your boyfriend's shirt that somehow became your pajama. The faint scent of his cologne that still lingers on was very comforting and calming, it made you more lovesick.

Takiishi, still half-asleep, shuffles into the kitchen, wondering why did you left. His hair is tousled and his eyes are still heavy with sleep, but when he sees you standing by the counter in his shirt ... he doesn't say anything per usual, as he wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder. It's his shirt, the one you brought, not Endo. His warmth envelops you, and you can feel his steady heartbeat against your back. Despite just waking up, he finds peace, feeling so comfortable that he can drift back to sleep.

"You'd make a good teddy bear," you tease gently, turning in his embrace to face him. His expression is as calm as ever, but you can't help but notice the small smile that he tried to hide. "My pillow disappeared," he murmurs, his voice still husky with sleep. Well, of course, you are his personal pillow and blanket, but you didn't mind that at all.

With a groan, you realize you'll have to bring him back to bed. Gently, you guide him out of the kitchen, his arms still loosely around you playing with the shirt, as you lead him down the hallway. He leans on you heavily, his steps slow and relaxed, completely trusting you to guide him to where he can rest again.

As you reach the bedroom, he stirs slightly, murmuring a soft thank you against your neck. You can't help but smile at his sleepy self, carefully helping him settle into bed. He snuggles under the covers, pulling you close so you're curled up against his chest and he will always be close to you either with his arms around your body or with his shirt on you.

TOGAME JO

You really wanted to go to the store, and so you did, grabbing the first jacket you saw on your way out. It was a bit oversized, and you didn't think much about it. When you returned home, you were met with a scene of mild chaos. Your boyfriend, Togame Jo, had turned the house upside down.

"Jo, what are you doing?" you asked, taking off your shoes and looking at the scattered items.

"I can't find my Shishitoren jacke—" He paused mid-sentence, turning to look at you. There you were, standing in the doorway, wearing the very jacket he was searching for. A soft smile spread across his face. "It looks good on you, doll."

Realization dawned on you. You had grabbed his jacket by mistake. Well, you wouldn't lie—you did look pretty good in it. "I'm sorry, I'll take it off," you said, starting to remove it. Togame made a slow, dismissive gesture with his hand. "No, no. Keep it on."

"But don't you need it right now?" you asked, puzzled. "Won't Choji complain because—"

He cut you off with a teasing grin, "They already know who I am. Wear it so they know who that jacket belongs to."

Your heart fluttered at his words. Snuggling into the jacket, you smiled back at him, feeling a warm sense of belonging. Togame stepped closer, wrapping an arm around you.

"Besides," he whispered, "you make it look way better than I ever could."

KAJI REN

Kaji seemed to like hoodies, no he loved hoodies. And he especially loved when you wore them. The sight of you, cozy and snug in his oversized clothing, always made him somehow melt. But now, as he stood shivering at the bus stop, he started to regret his choice of giving you his favorite one. After all, it was cold, and you had forgotten to bring something warmer, leaving him only in his shirt.

"I'm sorry, Ren," you said softly, guilty as you glanced at him. Your boyfriend stood there, his arms wrapped around himself, his breath visible in the chilly air. The bus wouldn’t be here for another 30 minutes, and you could see he was freezing.

He wasn’t that mad, just a little bit, a tiny little bit. But he preferred you to be warm and safe, so when boyfriend duty called, he answered. With a small sigh, you snuggled closer to him, wrapping your arms around his torso, hoping the soft material of the hoodie would warm him up. His initial shiver softened as he felt your embrace, and he glanced down at you.

"Please don't be mad at me," you pleaded, looking up at him with those big, apologetic eyes.

"I am not," he replied, shaking his head. "Just next time, wear one of my hoodies or put something with sleeves," he sounded calm, well his other senses didn't work that well when freezing, as you hummed in response, pressing yourself closer to him as a way to share whatever warmth you could muster.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the bus arrived. As you both climbed aboard and found a seat. The heater was a blessing, and you leaned into Kaji, feeling him gradually warm up. He wasn’t mad, but you noticed the sniffles starting the next morning.

Now, as he lays on the couch, wrapped in blankets and surrounded by tissues, you felt even more guilty. Kaji has come down with a cold, and you are taking care of him. You brought him hot tea, fluffed his pillows, and made sure he had everything he needed.

"Ren, I'm so sorry," you said again, placing a hand on his forehead to check his temperature. He looked up at you, his eyes a bit glassy but still filled with affection. And you knew that he would rather be sick than have you catch a cold.

SUO HAYATO

As you finish the final touches in front of the mirror, you can't help but feel a bit nervous. The smooth white silk of the changshan glides against your skin, as you admire how the elegant fabric hugs your form, the intricate patterns catching the light just so. Suo's appreciation for Chinese-styled fashion has always intrigued you, and today, you decided to surprise him by matching his style.

A quick glance at your phone reminds you that Suo is waiting outside, though he texted you saying he’d be there for a while, giving you more time to get ready. With a deep breath, you grab your bag and head out the door.

Stepping outside, you spot him immediately. Your boyfriend stands there, looking effortlessly handsome as always in his own changshan, and a smile playing on his lips. But as his eyes land on you, his expression shifts to one of pleasant surprise.

"Y/N?" he calls out, the amusement and admiration can be heard and seen as he takes a few steps closer, his gaze never leaving you. "Is that my changshan?"

You nod, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. "I wanted to match with you today. Do you like it?" He chuckles, the sound warm and teasing. "Like it? You look amazing. But I must say, you pull it off better than I do."

"I just wanted to try it out. You always look so good in these, and I thought it might be fun." Suo reaches out, gently adjusting a strand of hair that had fallen out of place, his touch is warm, "Well, you certainly succeeded. But now I’m worried everyone will be looking at you instead of me."

You roll your eyes, knowing he's just teasing. "Oh, please. You know you always steal the spotlight." He grins, his hand holding yours as you start to walk together. "Maybe so, but today, you’re the star. I’m really happy you did this, Y/N. It means a lot."

The honesty in his voice makes your heart flutter. "I just wanted to show you how much I appreciate you. And maybe… steal some of your fashion secrets."

Suo chuckles, squeezing your hand. "Anytime, Y/N. You know, we could make this a regular thing. Matching outfits and all."

You smile, the idea sounding more and more appealing, "So I will see you wearing Hello Kitty pajama's?" and as you think about how cute he will look in pink pjs while you apply a face mask and watch movies, it makes your heart melt, and he just laughs softly. "Who am I to deny you?"

KIRYU MITSUKI for my pookie @heartkaji

You’ve borrowed his shirt for the day, its soft fabric with vibrant pastel colors and shapes, a comforting reminder of him, paired with your pink skirt and cute Converse sneakers. The combination makes you feel especially adorable, and you notice the admiring glances from your boyfriend who undoubtedly thinks the same.

Kiryu’s been quiet, his phone in hand more than usual. You’ve caught glimpses of him smiling subtly at the screen, making you assume he’s checking something interesting. Perhaps a new game or a video that caught his eye.

You find a cozy bench and settle down together, your head finding its familiar spot on his shoulder. The day has been perfect, and you close your eyes for a moment, to get a rest from all the walking. When you open them, you notice his phone gallery is open, the screen filled with so many photos.

You tilted your head for a better look. The gallery is full of pictures of you—captured candidly throughout the day. These aren’t just any blurry photos; they look professionally taken, each one perfectly framed and lit. Your heart skips a beat as you realize Kiryu’s secret. Blushing, you nudge him playfully.

"Why didn’t you tell me?”

He looks at you with that calm, gentle cat like smile that always makes your heart melt. “I didn’t want your facial expression to be forced for the picture only.”

His words make your cheeks flush even more. You feel an overwhelming rush of affection for this boy who loves you so deeply, capturing your natural moments with such care. Leaning up, you press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

Kiryu’s smile widens just a bit, and he pulls you closer. “And you’re beautiful. Wear my clothes more often, they suit you.”

ENDO YAMATO

Endo often went shopping with you, spoiling you with many bags that would pile up during your hangouts. You appreciated his generosity, but sometimes, the sheer number of bags was overwhelming.

Today, home alone, you found yourself rifling through Endo's closet. You slipped into one of his oversized shirts and a pair of his jeans, the latter needing a makeshift belt to stay up. To complete the look, you even drew some lines on your arms to replicate his intricate sleeve tattoos. Standing in front of the mirror, you struck a pose and imitated his voice, "I am Endo Yamato and I'm going to tell you some philosophy shit I don't understand myself." You couldn't help but giggle at your own 'cosplay'' if you can even call it one.

Unbeknownst to you, Endo had come home. He stepped into the room whistling, his phone held up and recording. You froze, eyes wide as you locked gazes with him. He was grinning ear to ear, clearly entertained, while you felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you.

Before you could react, the makeshift belt gave way, and his jeans slipped down to the floor. Luckily, the oversized shirt and tank top you wore covered you just enough.

"You didn't see anything. Get out," you stammered, cheeks burning. Endo chuckled, the phone still capturing every moment. "Good impression, although, one note: you forgot to draw this tattoo," he said, pointing to a specific spot on his arm.

You grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him. "I said get out!"

"Right, right," he replied, backing out of the room with a mischievous smile. "But don't beg me to delete the video; you were so cute."

You groaned, knowing you were in for a relentless teasing. "Endo, I swear, if you don't stop…"

But his laughter was already echoing through the hallway, leaving you to change and try to remove the tattoos you drew with a permanent marker. It can't get any worse than this, can it?

SAKURA HARUKA

The sky was clear when you and Sakura set out to run errands for Kotoha, but halfway through your way to the store, the heavens opened up, and a heavy rain began to pour. You dashed for cover, but it was too late. Your white blouse quickly became soaked, clinging to your skin, making you aware of how exposed you felt. With your hands crossed in front of your chest, you glanced over at Sakura.

He was blushing furiously, doing his best not to look directly at you. His eyes darted nervously, and then he shrugged off his jacket. Holding it out to you, he kept his head turned away, the redness creeping up his neck and ears to the tip of his fingers. "H-here," he stammered, his voice soft and gentle.

"Thank you," you said, taking the jacket from his trembling hands. You slipped it on, the warmth from his body still lingering in the fabric. Sakura's scent enveloped you, and you could see him stealing a few glances, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. It was clear he was trying hard to keep his composure.

You stepped closer to him, your heart pounding in your chest. Standing on your toes, you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I'll return it tomorrow if it's not a problem."

Sakura.exe had officially stopped working. He stood frozen, eyes wide and lips slightly parted, unable to process what just happened. His cheeks were burning, not from the cold rain but from your touch. "Sure, keep it, yeah," he finally managed to say, his voice shaky.

You laughed softly at his reaction, making a mental note to treat him to something nice next time as a thank you. The rain stopped after not too long, but you were still with his jacket on, and he didn't mind at all. Sakura will probably make you run in the rain again, or do anything else, just to have an excuse to give you the jacket.

BONUS !

KOTOHA + TSUBAKI using he/him for tsubaki

Guess what time it is? It’s the casual Girl’s Night that occurs on most Fridays. Tonight, you, Kotoha, and Tsubaki are at Tsubaki's house for a sleepover, and the evening is already filled with gossip and laughter. The three of you sit on the living room floor, painting your nails in bright, fun colors while a horror movie plays in the background. You all giggle at the ridiculous actions of the main characters, the jump scares only adding to the fun.

Soon, the nail polish is drying, and you move on to your next activity: karaoke. The living room transforms into your stage as you each take turns singing loudly, the music echoing through the house. Your voices blend together in a chorus of joy, rockstars quite literally.

After the concert, it’s time for the fashion show. You rummage through Tsubaki's closet, matching your clothes with pieces from Kotoha's and Tsubaki's collections. With a dramatic flair, Tsubaki sets up the "runway" in the hallway, grabbing a flashlight to act as the spotlight.

"Lights, camera, action!" Tsubaki shouts, and you begin your strut down the hallway, feeling like a top model. Tsubaki's enthusiasm is infectious as he cheer, "You are so beautiful, Y/N-chan! I knew that skirt would suit you!"

Kotoha's eyes light up with admiration as she sees how her makeup looks on you. "You look stunning, Y/N," she says, her smile genuine and warm, clapping her hands.

The three of you take turns walking the runway, posing and twirling as you go. Tsubaki snaps photos, capturing every glamorous moment. Once satisfied, you all crowd around his phone, reviewing the photos and choosing the best ones to post on your socials.

Just as you hit "post," your phones buzz with notifications. The Bofurin group chat, which is 99% boys, suddenly goes crazy when Tsubaki sends a video of your model walk. Messages flood in, filled with surprised reactions and compliments.

"Is that Y/N?" Tsubaki reads Hiragi's message. "SO CUTE!" Umemiya added, and for some reason, Sakura sent a thumbs-up emoji, don't judge him, he is still learning to use a phone properly.

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pepperyduck · 3 months ago

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cheater, pt.2 - satoru gojo

word count: 1.2k

warnings: heartbroken gojo, jealousy, spiteful cheating, descriptions of suguru geto x reader, marriage problems, pathetic gojo. (18+ mdni!)

notes: gosh thank u for all the love on the last part!!! please read pt. 1 before this one, or don't, it's rly up to u.

you can find part one here

masterlist

multitudes of shopping bags rustle when you enter your home, a home that’s been silent for months now since satoru left you for his girlfriend. he didn’t actually leave, traces of him still lingered around the house from time to time when he wasn’t out with her, but those encounters remained faint traces, you had barely spoken to him unless it was to discuss something important.

you had mostly talked to satoru about a possible divorce – he brought the subject up after weeks of his girlfriend begging him to be with her for good now.

“your parents will disown you, satoru,” you had said, physically ignoring the man that sat across the kitchen from you, “and mine will hate you. plus, you don’t make that much money now, anyway.” you passively insulted the man. satoru agreed, however, his parents adored you since birth, and divorce was one of the things they wouldn’t put up with. the marriage started for convenience, and it would stay that way until one of you mustered up the courage to make a divorce final.

the current situation wasn’t all bad, though, it was an agreement without words that you and satoru lived married while he had his fun. and with the more fun he had, the less you began to care. it was the first time in your life you were genuinely able to focus on yourself without a husband to worry about. you concocted many hobbies, you learned how to cook healthier – no longer having to adjust your tastes to satoru’s liking – and decided to hit the gym a few days a week. progress started slowly, but you could see the tone in your body begin to show after a few months.

now, you had time to think about your appearance more, you tried new things with your hair and makeup, you bought a new wardrobe to fit your liking better. your old clothes stayed pushed to the side, growing wrinkly as you filled your closet up with better designer brands, you no longer worried about what satoru thought of you. satoru had moved his things into a different room, leaving you the space of the master bedroom to fill up with décor you fancied. your confidence grew more than ever, beginning to feel beautiful after a while.

you were always beautiful, of course, but it’s a much better feeling when you can see it in the mirror.

deciding to give your husband a taste of his own medicine, you start to date around and dip your toes into the wonderful world of hookups and first dates. you think it’s insane how easily men are on their knees, begging for you to go on a date with them, just one date, please! you got better treatment over the course of a month than you ever had with satoru; men would vow their loyalty to you, something satoru never did, obviously.

after satoru’s refusal to divorce you, his girlfriend left him, but the fact was unknown to you. sure, you noticed him moping around the house more often, but you figured he finally got tired of her and needed space. but his time at home forced him to see you come home with all kinds of guys, ones that were taller, handsomer, and stronger than him.

satoru saw the change in you, and god, he had never felt so in love with you since you found your new confidence and style. you were simply ravishing, and now satoru feels a pang of guilt for failing to realize what he had in front of him for so long.

the envy that boiled in his chest was a new feeling for him. he never thought he would be jealous of you giving him the same treatment he had been giving you. yet, there he was, watching from the kitchen as you giggle wrapped in someone else’s arms, furiously making out in the entryway without paying any mind to satoru. it bothered him.

and, oh boy, when you walk through the door with his ex-best friend from college, suguru, satoru swears he could go crazy.

satoru’s eyes focus their attention from some tv dinner to the door when you and suguru stumble though, laughing and carried away in one another’s presence. he had never seen you feel so alive, not even when you didn’t know he was cheating, you never acted that way with him. satoru has a look in his eyes the instant he sees you, the same look he had when he was about to kill someone, a crazed, insane look.

suguru flips you around and pins you to the wall, so he’s facing right at satoru, and he looks him in the eyes as he fiercely makes out with you.

if satoru had a gun, he’d point it right at the both of you.

yet he doesn’t have a gun, or anything really, just a fit of jealously growing stronger and stronger the more you make out with someone that hurt him so badly.

so this is what it feels like, huh?

satoru stands up and slams his chair back under the table, only growing angry when it doesn’t seem to phase you at all. he goes upstairs and slams the door to his room shut when he enters. he doesn’t…he can’t do anything. he can’t stop you from having free will, and he definitely can’t call you out for doing the same thing to him that he did to you. he sits down on the bed, a bed he should’ve been sharing with you, and he tangles his fingers in his hair, insecure thoughts clouding his mind.

for once in his life, the smug bastard known as satoru gojo was pitiful.

the screams of suguru’s name keep satoru up until the early hours of the morning.

the next day, you’re cooking breakfast later in the morning after suguru leaves. it feels like a very successful night. satoru walks into the kitchen, having had a sleepless night, and plops down at the table while he stares at you.

you’re so perfect, you always have been, why did he have to be so stupid about ruining his marriage with the perfect woman?

“so, suguru, huh?” satoru questions, crossing his arms.

“hmm?” you hum, viciously smiling inside because the bothered tone satoru had was so deliciously obvious.

“listen,” satoru starts, hesitating for a moment because he might pity himself for the way he’s about to speak to you. “i’m…sorry,” he mutters, almost inaudible, sighing afterwards.

you glance over your shoulder, seeing your husband look so tired and…hurt?

“don’t apologize, satoru. you and i both know it’s much too late for that now,” you aptly reply, “you should’ve thought about that long ago.”

your words are a knife in satoru’s chest, and it only feels as if you’re stabbing him over and over the more you speak, looking away from him again to focus on the stovetop.

“don’t apologize to me because you feel bad now. you’re only saying sorry because your feelings are the ones getting hurt this time,” your words send waves of guilt, sadness, and downright pain through your husbands body, “and quite frankly, i don’t care.”

satoru wants to retort, he wants to reply with something smug but his mind draws a blank as he only stares at you, ultimately betrayed by his own actions — his once kind, sweet wife has left him behind in a mess of himself.

his apologies no longer mean anything to you. you’ve grown too strong for satoru. he’ll continue to be a pathetic mess, until one day, hopefully, you choose to forgive him for what he’s done.

maybe you will, maybe you won’t. it’s up for you to decide.

taglist: @kalopsia-flaneur @painted-hills @kundere20000000

let me know if u wanna be added!

#satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk angst #satoru gojo angst #gojo x reader

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yanmuffins · 8 months ago

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SAFETY IN IGNORANCE.

Yandere! Prince! Gojo X fem! Isekai! Maid! Reader

SUMMARY: You’ve been transmigrated to the world of an otome game, taking the place of one of Prince Satoru's personal attendants, a measly side character with no name or relevance to the story.

As it turns out, life in the castle isn't so bad, and the certainty of food and shelter is welcome when finding a way home isn't ever guaranteed. Besides, your boss isn't as insufferable as you thought he would be. It could be worse. Isn't it nice, knowing you're safe?

WORD COUNT: 7.4k words (😮)

CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNINGS: NONCON (no intercourse), somnophilia, mentions of past s/a, mild yandere behavior (if you squint?), mild derealization, AU setting.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: please be aware my writing is quite rusty!! this is the first piece of writing that i finish IN YEARS and it's a fucking jjk darkfic. sigh. writing smutty scenes is also so awkward lmao, forgive me if it sucks severely. at least i hope you enjoy this little fucked up fic in have cooked up. it's hot and ready to be consumed! (๑>؂•̀๑)

-> MINORS DNI !

“TALES OF SPELLBINDING LOVE is a visual novel that takes place in a fantastical setting, where you can find your happily ever after with the character of your choice.”

It's been years – in this world, at least – but you still remember every word skimmed with dry, irritated eyes, as you stared at a bright screen, surrounded by the darkness of your own bedroom. It was another restless night among many, spent watching YouTube videos and reading pirated manga in questionable website, sipping on valerian tea.

So, like any other night, your adblocker dutifully served its purpose, shielding your browser from annoying, abusive, virulent ads.

Except for one.

“Enter the enchanting world of TALES OF SPELLBINDING LOVE through SARA, a kind-hearted peasant, as she meets all sorts of swoon-worthy suitors!”

You should have closed the page, sketchy as it was, but it had piqued your interest. It was a Friday night. You were sleepless. It was past midnight, tossing and turning in bed had done little to welcome slumber. Your home was tidy and organized from insomniac hours from nights before. You were bored.

“Play with a cast of handsome men, make the right choices and uncover exciting secret routes...”

Nothing about the web design told you the game was anything but a harmless dating simulator for an adult audience. Maybe it was the pastel color-scheme, with soft pinks, yellows, blues, purples and greens, or the elegant cursive font and colorful flowers adorning the page. In fact, other than the initial synopsis, there wasn't much to look at. No content warnings, nothing about the capture targets or the heroine you were supposed to be playing as, not even the usual information on how many endings or CGs you could get.

At the bottom of the page, “ENTER.” and “LEAVE?” buttons waited for a decision.

Maybe... you could give it a try? Hopefully it would entertain you until your eyelids finally grew heavy, allowing you to drift off before sunshine seeped through your window signaling dawn had arrived.

You clicked “ENTER.”.

... And here you are now, mending Prince Satoru's shirt before another hunting trip.

It's been ten years since you've come to this world. Your own body replaced that of a nameless background character with no narrative purpose, allowing you to exist as yourself in this entirely alien reality. You're not sure how much time has passed in your original world, whether you've been dead for a decade or simply unconscious for a couple of minutes, and you haven't gotten any closer to finding out.

You sigh, weary, looking down at the flax linen shirt laid over your lap, needle in hand. Simple, at first glance, a bit worn, but a nice piece of garment not everyone could afford to have in their wardrobe. One of its puffed sleeves now torn at the shoulder lining, an unfortunate result of it being caught by a tree branch during horse-riding. Nothing you couldn’t fix, however, skilled as you’d become over the years.

Ten years in this world.

Ten years working as Prince Satoru’s personal maid.

You got rewarded for that.

The luxurious pearl necklace that became a part of your distinguished blue uniform, accompanied by a gold pendant encrusted with gemstones shaped like the Gojo’s family crest. It was an honor given to faithful, dutiful servants to the crown, closest to the royal family.

Satoru and you were both eighteen when you’d first presented yourself as his new personal maid. This body, undoubtedly yours, seemed to have aged down a few years, most likely to match the age of your predecessor. They had, apparently, been working hard to better their lot in life, aiming for an often-vacant position at the prince’s small circle of personal attendants. You inherited the skills they’d nurtured, bettering them along the years, allowing you to secure your spot as long as you have.

That, and Prince Satoru Gojo’s character trivia really came in handy an absurd number of times.

There were worse fates out there, especially for a transmigrated person like you. Sure, maybe life as a privileged noblewoman would have been ideal, even more useful in searching for a way home, but being a personal servant to Prince Satoru, as… Eccentric as he was, gave you advantages compared to other peasants, even other castle servants. Plenty of food, fine fabrics, individual accommodations, not having to exhaust yourself scrubbing floors all day or sweating by the heat of the kitchen fires – besides, the Gojo heir wasn’t quite as terrible a boss once you got used to him.

You remember finding his route in-game quite boring, full of cliché tropes and little to no conflict. He was also kind of an overbearing asshole the entire time, unlikability salvaged only by his elven good looks.

But nothing could have prepared you to the otherworldly beauty he posed standing right in front of you, in the flesh, for the first time, glacial orbs eyeing you up and down. You admitted to yourself – although begrudgingly, as he was your least favorite character among the ones you’d played – that Satoru Gojo was as handsome as they come and had every right to be smug about it.

Smiling to yourself, you put aside the needle and thread to hold up the shirt with one hand, gently tracing over the repaired sleeve with the other. You tug at it to test its resistance, nodding absentmindedly when its stays in place. It’s good as new, just in time for his hunting trip. You get up, taking a moment to adjust your skirts and straighten your white linen apron and coif, neatly folding the shirt and draping it over your arm. According to your pocket watch, his attendants should be waking him up at any minute now.

You grab the doorknob, wondering when you’d become so accustomed to this life.

And then you’re heading towards the prince’s chambers.

Gojo’s head snaps in your direction as soon as he hears the door creak open, a lazy smile gracing his features. You bow to him, respectfully averting your eyes as an attendant removes his undertunic to reveal his naked form.

“Good morning, Your Highness.”

He doesn’t regard you immediately, arms raised as William, one of his attendants, quickly fetches the shirt from your arm and slips it over his head. It’s a morning ritual familiar to you by now, efficient movements shared between all three blue-clad servants in the room to make sure the prince will be properly dressed for his daily affairs.

Kai, your other colleague, hands you a black leather surcoat. It’s undoubtedly fit for royalty, handcrafted by the best tailor in the land; buttons of silver, western dragons embroidered on each side of its chest, facing each other, with gold thread some miller’s daughter had spun from straw – or so you’d heard. You feel his gaze upon you as you button up the overgarment, knowing exactly what he expects.

Gojo steps back when you’re done, doing a slow spin to show off his outfit.

“What flattery does this little doll have for me today?” He asks, “Do I look dashing?”

“Yes, my lord Prince, as always.” You respond, with a courtly nod of your head.

“What about my hair?”

“Soft like the finest silk in the land, fairer than the first snow of the season, Your Highness.”

“What about my lips?”

“Tender and pink like freshly bloomed petunias in springtime, Your Highness.”

“And my eyes? And my eyes?” Gojo goads you on, a boyish excitement to his voice, his face coming a bit too close for comfort as if pleading to look up at him.

Playfully, your eyes meet his, granting his unspoken wish, holding his gaze for nothing more than a few seconds, a simpering smile as you speak.

“So strikingly blue it would put a midday sky in a summer’s day to shame, Your Highness.”

He releases an exaggerated sigh before grabbing your face with both hands, squishing your cheeks – his touchiness hardly phased you anymore; harmless, albeit pestering –, head slightly cocked to the side and a pout on his lips.

“You tease.”

Kai, newer to the group, shoots an alarmed look towards William, who merely shrugs him off.

And just as quickly he releases you, storming out the door as you and your colleagues follow after him, hurrying along the hallway steps behind him like ducklings after their mother.

Gojo Satoru is exactly seven minutes late to meet his guests. Not his servant’s fault at all, of that, you are sure. You had checked your pocket watch while walking through the castle hallways, confirming he would be on time to meet his guests at the open area of the stables – that was, of course, before all the meaningless detours he took along the way. You’re not sure if he does it on purpose.

William had his weaponry arranged, waiting at the hands of a servant, while Kai had personally spoken to the Marshal to have his Highness’ horse ready, both having woken up earlier than usual to make the proper arrangements.

Naturally, they would follow him to the hunting trip, as part of his entourage, while you stayed behind and made sure all was perfect for their return.

Your arrangements included waking up as early as the kitchen staff, the sun barely peeking through the horizon, to revise the ingredients you’d requested in advance with the head cook, so a kitchen maid could go and fetch them from the forest or the market. You’d love to be able to traverse the markets or the woods freely, exploring, meeting new people, finding out new things about this world that could potentially lead to a way home — but alas, being a personal attendant to the prince meant tasks such as picking herbs at the woods or buying strawberries from a merchant were, per your colleague’s words, below you.

It's a nice day out. A faint breeze caresses your skin, cool enough to be refreshing, and the skies are clear and blue with not a cloud to be seen. The autumn sun shines gently upon the earth, sparing of its overbearing heat. Your presence isn’t exactly necessary, but Gojo has made a habit of you seeing him off and you wouldn’t miss an opportunity to be outside.

“Fashionably late as always, Satoru.” His grace, Geto Suguru, is the first one to speak up.

A swoon-worthy duke, with a storyline much too… disconcerting… for your taste. Though the number of times you’d spoken to Geto could be counted on your fingers, being in his presence still put you on edge. Not that he had ever done anything to you, but you’d accidentally met his eyes countless times, caught him staring at you with a gaze so invasive it made you feel like a criminal awaiting judgement.

“Late? Treason. A prince is always on time, Suguru.” Gojo replies with a nonchalant shrug, “You were the ones here early!”

Awaiting his arrival were a group of familiar young men. Most you had seen in-game through the extensive selection of capture targets, coming to meet them in-person over the years due to their ties with the prince. You had played some of their routes, but with the exception of Megumi – Gojo’s protégé – you hadn’t a reason to talk to them, merely exchanging a word or two or none at all when in their presence.

“Finally.”

Nanami Kento looks mildly inconvenienced as he speaks, tone flat, arms crossed over his broad chest and a visible scowl creasing his features. He was a retired knight, born a peasant, presently a Baron; a personal favorite of yours. You couldn’t help but steal a glance or two whenever he was around. You remember kicking your feet up in the air during his playthrough. Sometimes you still do.

Next to him stood Prince Yuji Itadori, too entertained by his own horse as he fed him a carrot. You have faint memories of playing his route, although you don’t remember finishing it. He was a sweetheart, from what you knew, periodically visiting from a neighboring kingdom to learn from Nanami and Satoru and cultivate friendly diplomatic relations. You’d cracked your head trying to recollect bits and pieces of his story, unsuccessfully. You had a pesky feeling it was relevant.

Fushiguro Megumi was last. Broody lost prince, currently hidden under Prince Satoru’s protection – you hadn’t played his route, but he was a constant side character in Gojo’s. He was still a child when you met him, shortly after Gojo brought him into the castle.

When Megumi notices you, there’s a smile; faint, barely noticeable, and he waves. You respond with a brief curtsy.

“Can we go?” Yuji protests, interrupting some petty squabble between Satoru and Suguru, “I hear there’s a huge wild boar running around causing ruckus around the village, I want to catch it!”

Mounted on his white steed, Gojo is a cliché as old as time; a trotting reminder of your being in a world that isn't your own. The anodyne sight of him looking down on you, pink lips softly curving upwards to gift you a kind smile as the sun shines from behind him is almost identical to one of the game’s CG’S. It shouldn’t – you’ve grown used to him, to living inside this game, material as your own world – but for a moment, and just a moment, the sight of a whimsical prince on a white horse wiggles an uncomfortable, yet familiar feeling of surrealness, unreality into your mind, making your stomach churn.

You ignore it. Mentally sweep it under the carpet of your subconscious. This is nothing new. You can spiral into an existential crisis over the absurd condition of your circumstances later, when you’re lying sleepless in bed staring at the ceiling.

You’ve run out valerian root, anyway.

“I am obliged to be away for an entire day!” He whines, words punctuated by dramatic sullenness to his body language.

You step closer to him, taking a respectful bow before offering him a pair of neatly-wrapped sunglasses, which he takes – a distinctive feature of his character.

“So, you must, Your Highness. Go, and may the mother of good luck be with you.”

Satoru extends an arm toward you, presenting his hand. You kiss it – your own lips touching soft, pristine skin; a needed reminded he was a person, made of flesh that could be touched and not pixels limited to a screen.

From your peripheral, Kai elbows William as discreetly as he can.

You return to the prince’s sleeping quarters immediately after their departure. Overseeing the chambermaids, you watch them change the bedding for a fresh set, correcting the pair on your favored arrangement of pillows, fussing as they dust around the priceless ornaments around the chamber, amiably warning them to be careful.

When they’re done, you move onwards to the kitchen.

There are people watching you as you march through the hallways. Spying little peepers full of envy or admiration, or both, and you know what they’re looking at – the telltale blue fabric of your dress, a color so inaccessible to many, and the necklace you bear from years of service. Despite your own wishes, it makes you an intimidating figure, as if you’re an extension of royalty. Being a personal attendant to the prince meant upholding that image, keeping yourself unapproachable, discouraged from socializing and making merry with anyone but servants considered to be on your level.

Still, you greet the kitchen staff with a smile, trying to be as cordial as you possibly can. You know all of them by name, from the head cook to the scullery maid, all exceptionally busy for tonight’s private feast. It’s not your job to review the selection of dishes to be served, but you do so anyway, even if superficially, reminding them to provide a non-alcoholic beverage for the prince. Attentively, you listen to the head cook as he showcases the ingredients for the pastries you requested, assuring of their quality.

It's a bit of a hollow feeling when you leave the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, knowing the rest of your day will be spent alone. Without Gojo, there’s nothing much to do. Without William and Kai, your social circle has been just about reduced to zero.

But you do know where you’ll be spending all of those long, unending hours.

Being a personal servant to Prince Satoru gave you advantages. Privileges, if you will.

When he asked you what you would like for your latest birthday, you made quite a bold request. It’s the newest addition to the key bunch hanging from your waist – full, unbridled access to the royal library. The thought of having an entire day to search through never-ending shelves, making notes and finding books that could possibly lead to finding a way home cheers you up a bit.

“Are you fornicating with the prince?”

You nearly choke on your drink when the question abruptly comes out of Kai’s mouth, unable to speak from the utter shock. William is at his side, chewing on a chicken leg, and can only stare wide-eyed at his colleague’s bluntness. It’s been a while since the hunting party returned, clear blue skies fading into shades of orange adorned by heavy, rumbling clouds. Outside, tree branches sway to the force of the wind, preparing to welcome a starless night of rain and cold. Gathered at the table on Prince Satoru’s solar room, the three of you were having dinner to replenish your energy before the feast while Gojo entertained his guests.

It was usually a casual moment to decompress. Not tonight, Kai had decided.

“What– No!” You retort, scandalized, “What could have given you that impression?!”

“What hasn’t given me that impression, you mean.”

“Kai–” William tries to interject, but you’re quicker to rejoinder.

“I am not… fornicating with anyone, especially not prince Satoru. There’s nothing like that between us. That’s… How he is. You’re just not used to him yet.”

“But–”

“I think we’re better off cutting this topic of conversation here.” William interrupts, slightest bit of panic in his voice, eager to deflect conflict, “I know you’re still adapting to your new position, Kai, and that’s why I’m sure (Y/N) will be kind enough to let this slide.”

William looks at you expectantly, almost pleading, and you scoff before crossing your arms over your chest. The mere notion seems ridiculous – you, doing the deed of darkness with one of the game’s capture targets, destined to fall in love with the heroine regardless of whether she decided to pursue him or not? It would be a disaster waiting to happen. You were nothing if not a professional, serving your boss to the best of your power, and all of Satoru’s affections stemmed from his own outlandish personality. That was all. Your dynamic could be less than orthodox, but it was platonic in its nature.

“Come now, we can’t afford not to get along. Kai, apologize to (Y/N). I have worked alongside her for ten long years, and if she says she’s not engaging in improper acts with the prince, then she’s not.”

Kai silently looks between the both of you, finally letting out a defeated sigh.

“It’s a reasonable question, seeing you two…” He insists, shifting uncomfortably on his seat, “But I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“It’s fine, I guess. No one has ever insinuated that before.”

“Not to your face, doll.” Kai shrugs, nonchalant.

You want to snap back at him, but in comes the realization that he’s not wrong. Perhaps it was living within your bubble, mostly limited to your coworkers and your boss, had made you clueless to people outside and what gossip ran about you. William and Benji, Kai’s predecessor, had accompanied you in serving Gojo for a decade; neither of them would ever dare question your relationship with the prince or the harmless liberties involved; they were accustomed to it. And, well, you were accustomed to the point you thought everyone else saw it as you did: normal. The sudden realization that not all would find Prince Satoru’s affections towards you something ordinary was a staggering concept in your mind – but it was so simple. So obvious.

Then again, it never occurred you to ask…

“Do you think it’s weird, William? Be honest.”

“I have no opinion of anything, ever.” William stated, crossing over his heart with his right hand, “But now that you mention it, Benji did confide in me, shortly before he was relieved from service. Said something about ‘inappropriate displays of affection towards a heedless maiden’, I believe?”

“Oh. Benji never said anything like that to me.”

“He wouldn’t. Between you and me, he had a soft spot for you, so I do believe that statement was a little biased.”

On your face, an expression of utter confusion. You never noticed any signs of Benji liking you romantically, but then again, you apparently don’t notice much around you. The chicken seems to have lost its taste when you bite into it, mind too preoccupied with the conversation you just had. Not that there’s any use reminiscing about Benji – the man having been released from service only a month prior, after prince Satoru arranged him a marriage to a marquis’ daughter.

Now that you think of it, he didn’t seem too pleased about the match. Or about leaving.

The stone-walled bathroom smelled of fresh flowers and citrus. Sliced oranges and grapefruits, calendulas, sunflowers, rose petals, mint leaves, forget-me-nots, floating in the steaming hot water that filled the circular, wooden bathtub. Night has long since arrived, and even with the shutters of the only window in the room closed you can still hear the heavy rain pouring against glass and the rattling of wood caused by unrelenting wind.

Despite that, the candles illuminating the room, as well as the small fire burning underneath a boiling pot of water, kept the room pleasantly warm.

On the other side of the door, William and Kai undress the prince. All had retired to their respective bedchambers by now, and it’s not long before the pair of attendants are dismissed for the night. Gojo is already disrobing by the time he enters the bathroom, excitedly blabbering about the hunting trip as he plops the velvet garment onto your waiting hands, stepping into the warm embrace of the thoughtfully drawn bath. Suddenly, the ceiling becomes particularly interesting.

He lets out a long, satisfied sigh.

“… Not that I’m complaining about tonight’s banquet, though. I’m just a bit disappointed, you know? All the fuss people were making over a silly boar, and it made a passable meal at best…”

You hang the robe. From a tray placed beside the fireplace you select a pink macaron, feeding it to him before you start to work a soapy sponge along his skin. It had been a deeply embarrassing experience at first, aiding him in his baths; with time, however, like many other things, it had faded into normalcy. Nothing but work, is what you tell yourself when you elevate one of his sinewy legs with your hand, sponge inching closer and closer to his groin. You steal a quick glance at him, half-listening to his words, seeing Gojo laid back, unashamed by your ministrations, playing with the petals of a soggy sunflower.

“Ah– Megumi! His aim is getting better. He’s gotten really good at shooting with a bow and arrow…”

You wash the soap off your hands when you’re finished with his body. You feed him a small tart, topped with vanilla cream, strawberries, and blueberries. Still, he prattles on, words muffled by his munching,

“… mmph… And Suguru is still being weird about that wife of his… Something-something ‘she’s different from before’ and refused to elaborate…”

He quiets down a bit once you retrieve a warm compress, placing it over his eyes, fingers moving to either side of his temples to massage them with gentle circular motions. He relishes a bit on the relief it brings after a day straining his eyes. As he relaxes further under your touch, you let your mind wander, recounting the frustratingly slow progress with your research.

Even with access to the great royal library, the sheer number of books on varying topics was discouraging enough to tempt an emotional breakdown. You scoured through shelves, gathering a collection of sorcerer biographies, spell books, history books, encyclopedias – anything that could hold the subtlest bit of information regarding transmigration. And still… Nothing. Your eyes still felt a bit dry, a lingering headache from reading within the ill-illuminated library. All you had at this point were your own theories – and that wasn’t saying much.

If only you could leave the castle for a bit. A frightening thought, of course, as you could count on a single hand the number of times you had seen the world beyond the castle walls, never straying too far from the place you now called home. All of those occasions you had been following Prince Satoru on some of his trips, mostly diplomatic, with no freedom to walk around and talk to people as you pleased.

Perhaps a vacation was all you needed. Your “parents” lived not too far, if you remembered correctly, on one of the neighboring villages subservient to the Gojo crown. A favored place for merchants to gather, fairly populated, maybe if you tried investigating–

“(Y/N)?? (Y/N)??” Gojo’s fingers are snapping in front of your face, his eyes still covered by the compress, “Are you listening to me?”

“Oh! I’m sorry, Your Highness. I think my mind just wandered for a bit…” You apologize, hurriedly forgoing his temples in favor of washing his hair, “What was it?”

He remains oddly silent as you pick up a smaller bucket of ambient-temperature water, delicately wetting his hair. You weren’t giving mere empty flattery earlier in the day; running your hands through his hair truly felt like touching the finest of silk.

“You know…” He starts, “I notice your mind tends to wander a lot, especially these days...”

There’s an edge to his tone, one you rarely hear him use.

“Your eyes seem to wander an awful lot, too, lately.”

Another pause. There's no silence in the room, just an uncomfortable absence of words; You hear the fire crackling. You hear the water boiling and bubbling, thinking for a moment you should check the temperature of his bath to see if it needs to be warmed. You hear the muffled sound of rain against glass. You hear wooden shutters rattling. There's a strange shift about the air, and you're confused, unsure of what he could mean.

He answers your unspoken question before the words have a chance to leave your mouth.

“I saw you stealing those little glances at Nanami.”

You stand, bucket in hands, mouth agape – embarrassment. The heat of complete embarrassment that overtakes you feels like cold water poured down on your body. Your hands feel a little weak as you quickly try to regain your composure, looking away from Gojo despite knowing his eyes aren’t on you.

Fiddling with the hem of your apron, you try to find your words.

“When… When did you–” You stammer, “How…”

“Ah-ha! So, you plead guilty. That’s soooo shameless, flower.”

The familiar playfulness in his tone brings back a bit of confidence. Still, there’s something about it you can’t quite place; for a moment, you think there’s a bark to it, bitterness. Perhaps it’s something unpleasant about his day that he’s hung up about, increased by you not listening to him. He’s just teasing, you conclude, trying to vent whatever annoyance peeved him by picking on you.

You massage Prince Satoru’s scalp with shampoo – or the closest thing they had to it, in this world – hoping to placate his abrupt change in mood. Maybe you’ll hand-feed him another macaron.

“I was just… Looking.” You offer, cautiously, unsure if any explanation would make it better or worse for yourself, “There’s no harm in looking. Lord Nanami was admirable as a knight, and he’s handsome…”

Worse, if the crease between his eyebrows is anything to go by.

“… But not nearly as handsome as you, my prince.”

That seems to appease Gojo who, with a petty harrumph, relaxed into your touch again. Appealing to his ego always seemed to get you out of trouble. You’d never thought to be grateful for his petulant grouching, but it's music to your ears compared to the spitefulness from a few moments ago.

“I just find it vexing. Why would you ever bat those little eyelashes at Nanamin when you have the Morgan le Fay of men right in front of you to admire?”

“There’s no need for jealousy, Your Highness.”

You were just a humble fangirl admiring your bias, after all. You weren’t made of stone.

“At the stables. During the banquet. Would you like to have a portrait of Nanamin, so you can gawk at him when he’s not here, too?”

You rinse his scalp, running your hands through locks of his hair.

“I am so very sorry, my prince. Speaking of... Uh... Speaking of banquets! I hear there will be a ball."

It's a poor attempt to change the subject, and you can only give Satoru a sheepish, almost apologetic smile when he raises one side of the compress to acknowledge it as such, quirking an inquisitive eyebrow at you.

There will be a ball. In a month, to be exact. You know that not just from the growing agitation within the castle, or the coming and going of unfamiliar faces hired for temporary work, but because you had been counting the days for this very event ever since you realized this was the ball that kickstarts the main story, taking place towards the end of the prologue. It meant the heroine would finally show up.

You're not sure what it will mean for you.

“Sure, a ball...” He says, “My old folks said they would invite all the eligible maidens across the land because they want me to find a wife.”

“I'm sure you’re not too psyched about this...”

Prince Satoru vehemently nods in agreement.

“... But who knows? Give it a chance, you might just meet the love of your life there.”

“Pfft– Right, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“And why not?

“Well, what if I already met the love of my life?”

Then that would be some pretty weird timing, Your Highness. Prince Satoru wasn’t supposed to meet the heroine until a few days before the ball takes place, in a beautiful clearing out in the countryside, where they’ll share a lovely meet-cute after he nearly tramples her with his horse.

“Alright…” You spouted, unsure, “Why not bring her to the ball, Your Highness?”

“She’ll be there.”

His rosy lips curve into a conspiratory smirk, mostly to himself, blissfully unaware of the can of worms he just opened inside your mind. Had he already met the heroine? But it was way too early! It couldn’t be– or could it? You’ll have to check the makeshift calendar on your notebook. The timeline you wrote down, as well. There has to be some sort of plot hole you’re missing, or maybe the events have been thrown out of place for some reason.

“But you’re right, maybe a ball won’t be so bad. They said any eligible maiden across the land, rich or poor, of high or low birth. It’s an opportunity!” He announced, the last word said with enough enthusiasm to make you jump.

Once again, you don’t have the time to ask what he means– or to avert your gaze as he abruptly steps out of the bath, getting an eyeful of his bare ass against your will. You pat him dry with a towel as he helps himself to the tray of tarts and macarons. He extends both arms when he’s done so you can slip on the velvet, deep blue robe back on his body. Another towel is wrapped around his head.

The robe keeps him warm as he sits on a chair, waiting for you to come and finalize his night routine. You stay behind in the bathroom, emptying the bathtub, turning out the fire, disposing of the unused boiling water since Prince Satoru had decided to cut his bath short tonight.

When you close the door behind you, the smell of flowers and citrus is still in the air, stuck to his skin. You hum a tune as you brush his hair, its strands like gossamer, offering no resistance to the bristles.

“(Y/N).”

Gojo lifts up his head, not a hint of playfulness in his face or his tone.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

And yet his eyes are soft as they burn into yours, as if thinking, evaluating.

“Who, in this land, is the fairest of all?”

Every time he asks you this, you wonder if there was some dialogue you missed in the game. Nevertheless, the blatant reference makes you want to laugh; with him, though, the answer is always the same. There is no one to overshadow his beauty, objective, obfuscating, infuriatingly incontestable, and he knows that– you know that.

“You alone, my prince, are the fairest of all.”

If you were anyone else, you’d swoon at the smile he graces you with.

“By the way, I have something for you.”

There is a small box on the table he’s seated by, simple, with a golden latch, inconspicuous enough to only catch your attention when Gojo slides it closer, opening it to reveal an assortment of herbs tied together with a string.

“Since you ran out of valerian root…”

There wasn’t a single herb you could recognize, at least not with the dim candlelight. Despite this, you were pretty certain there was no valerian in that box.

“How did you know, Your Highness?”

“Those eyebags under your eyes, I know you haven’t been sleeping well.” He says, matter-of-factly, “Some old hag passed by the hunting lodge today, selling all sorts of things. Said this was a potent mixture of herbs for those with sleeping problems. It’s all safe, I’ve had the royal apothecary check it.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, retrieving the box and holding against your chest. You hope it knocks you right out. Heavens know you need it, after today.

“This is so generous, Your Highness… I don’t know how to thank you.”

“No need.”

He latches the box closed.

“Just have a deep, dreamless sleep for me.”

It was the very witching time of night, and the castle lay silent. Darkness reigned in its corridors, desolate and cold, broken only by flashes of lighting tearing through stygian skies.

Take pity, take pity on one who is sick of love.

Fire dances at the top of a candle, threatening to vanish at any moment, as one living soul treads through slate flooring, airy footsteps growing closer to your chamber door.

Satoru feels guilt twisting inside his stomach, that nauseating feeling of contrition before consummation. It doesn’t stop him, it never did – he isn’t delusional as to think his actions are without sin, but at least he knows he isn’t fully without a conscience. And yet, what is the point of guilt, overridden by excitement, conquered by overwhelming love, as he turns the key to your bedchamber, to defile you once again?

Defile, Satoru thinks to himself, is such an ugly word.

Your door doesn’t creak when opened. A simple spell to ward off prying ears, lest he has to replace another servant; Satoru had come to learn how thin those walls could be, sensitized to the littlest of noises in the dead of night.

He locks the door behind him, placing the candlestick holder on your bedside table.

There’s not much to see in the darkness, except for your pliable, sleeping form. You don’t feel the weight of your mattress shifting, so deep in slumber, as Satoru sits by the edge of your bed with the familiarity of a husband; and he likes to pretend, too, that these late-night rendezvous have an amorous twist to them. Isn’t it romantic, to be visited by a paramour so secretive you’re neither awake nor aware to receive?

What is he, if not a dedicated, twitterpated, infatuated princely lover sneaking through the hallways of his own castle to meet his beautiful dove, his golden trinket, his falcon’s eye–

But he isn’t delusional as to think his actions are without sin.

Satoru knows there’s nothing appealing about exploiting your vulnerabilities. If you were to ever find out, if you were to open your little eyes at this very second to see him stripping of his undertunic, the lovely relationship you’d built would crumble in a matter of seconds. It would break his heart into a million pieces, to see the horrified look of realization upon your face. And he feels the burning of guilt at the back of his mind, easy to dismiss, as his hands roam your body, past your clocked stockings of cotton and up your white shift.

He would hate to hurt you.

Which is why you’ll never find out. Your relationship can bloom into something far more precious that way, and soon he won’t need these nightly visits to fulfill the base needs you ignite in him. He often dreams of your wedding night, with you awake, receptive to his embrace, and then he’ll finally cross the one line he hasn’t dared to trespass all these years.

The shift is carefully slipped off your body. His cock is dribbling with pre-cum, twitching at the sight of your hardening nipples. He bedews one digit with his saliva as he lays by your side, spreading your legs just enough to slip one hand between to stroke your clit, peppering your breast and neck with kisses, nibbles, and nips.

Your body is more than accustomed to his touch by now – and for a moment, he wonders if you’ll be confused on your wedding night when, just like now, your folds grow wet with so little stimulation. Soon he hears the change in your breathing as it becomes heavier, increasingly ragged, little whines starting to come out of your lips.

Still, you don’t wake.

Not even as he slides a finger inside your soaked entrance.

It’s tight, temptingly tight, torturingly tight, but Satoru has enough self-control not to push himself through your folds. Not tonight. He can wait, he will wait until, eventually, you’ll be awake and willing to take his cock. He takes comfort knowing that day is not too far.

Satoru sits between your legs to rub his cock as he fingers you, biting his lip as not to let a wanton groan out.

"Fuck..."

It's not very regal to swear. He's never done so in front of you.

His voice is already strained, not above a whisper, when he sits up, settling between your legs to rub his cock with one of your limp hands. There are two fingers inside you now, Satoru biting his lip as to repress a moan stuck in his throat. He hates having to keep quiet, but the walls are thin, and it would be a lot more trouble than it's worth to deal with nosy neighbors.

Satoru isn't alarmed when you stir, eyebrows knitted slightly as he kneaded your clit with his thumb. It's not a sign you're waking up.

His fingers are coated in viscid, clear juices, thrusting in and out of your pussy with practiced ease. He can barely keep them inside when you tighten up, little tremors running through your body as you cum with a strangled whimper.

Satoru forgoes your hand in favor of positioning himself on between your folds, using your wetness to rub his length along your pussy, prodding at your clit with each upward motion. He’s lying atop you now, muscled chest glued to yours, gently suckling on your neck and muffling his low, guttural groans on your skin. His hips move at a controlled pace, refraining himself from how rough he wants to be with you – he’s still hung up about Nanami, after all –, feeling his own orgasm approach.

Your bed doesn’t creak, either.

He thinks of finally being enveloped by your insides, how your velvety walls would choke his cock when he made you cum. How your lips would touch his and you’d kiss, really kiss, how your body would respond to his touch when awake. What faces would you make for him? Would you look away, embarrassed, throw your arms around him and hold him tightly to you? He was dying to see you, to fill your womb as he looked deep into your open eyes.

Satoru Gojo isn’t delusional as to think his actions are without sin.

He’s delusional to a fault. And as much as he feels bad for you, for his horrible acts of debauchery against your unresponsive body – and all other perversions along the way – there’s hardly any guilt when he grips his cock with a tight fist, tugging at his length as spurts of pearly-white cum land on your bare stomach. His chest heaves, breath labored, half-lidded blue eyes staring at his handiwork with a dopey smile on his face.

Lightning illuminates the room, followed by thunder rumbling so deeply across the earth he swears he feels the walls shake. Candlelight flickers.

He cleans you up, not a trace of arousal to be found when he’s done, shift slipped back onto your body. For a moment, he sits at the edge of your bed again, leaning back on his arms. How he would love to wake up with you between his arms – but alas, you’d be much alarmed to see him by your side when morning comes.

He dresses himself, not before placing a chaste kiss goodnight on your forehead.

A ball, he ponders, that ought to be fun.

And as he leaves, candlestick holder in hand, locking the door behind him, there’s no guilt badgering his mind – only dresses. A selection of skirts and frills fluttering about, an appointment with the best seamstress in the kingdom; Satoru wonders which design he’ll choose for you to wear at the ball, smiling smugly to himself as he skips down the hallway, back to his chambers.

You wake with a startle, groggy, disoriented.

Resting in its usual spot at your bedside table, your trusty pocket watch indicates you’ve woken up a little over fifteen minutes later than you’re supposed to – Not too bad of a delay, which eases your initial panic. You’ll have to hurry up a bit when getting ready, but at least you won’t be late for work.

The herbs have worked a little too well, you conclude – gifted you dreamless sleep, devoid of interruptions, knocking you out barely an hour after drinking the tea you brewed. Although you had yet to fully wake up, there was newfound motivation to get on with your day after a much-needed good night’s sleep.

You make a mental note to properly thank Prince Satoru again. It was unexpectedly considerate of him to notice.

A shiver runs down your body as fresh air enters through your bedchamber window, caressing your face with its gelid touch. You see movement downstairs, servants and knights who have begun their day earlier than you. Beyond castle walls you saw the city, merchants coming and going through dirt roads among trees painted in breathtaking yellows, oranges and reds, its fallen leaves scattered over green grass. In the distance, you see neighboring villages and castles so far they nearly fade into the horizon. The sun is out again, blue skies adorned by white, fluffy clouds.

The faint, comforting smell of freshly baked bread hits your nostrils.

You should get ready– you don’t want to be late, of course. But there is time for a quick look in the mirror, to check if your exhaustion-induced eyebags have been minimized, even if ever-so-slightly. It’s only then that you notice, attention diverted from the area around your eyes, three small, faint red spots on your neck and collarbone.

You touch them, briefly wondering where they could possibly have come from; but you don’t have the time to dwell on it for more than a few seconds, your neck will be covered regardless. One last look at the mysterious marks and you shrug, brushing them off. It’s nothing to worry about, anyway.

Must have been a bedbug.

#tw noncon #tw somno #tw somnophilia #tw yandere #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere gojo x reader #yandere gojo x you #yandere jjk x reader #cw yandere #dark fic

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saerins · 5 months ago

Text

ᯓ ᝰ ONLY FOR YOU .ᐟ — gojo satoru

your new roommate is all sorts of mysterious. the biggest one of all? the fact that he keeps trying for you even when it seems like you won’t budge. (or, satoru’s preposterous attempts at getting you to date him.)

gojo satoru x female reader. content tags runaway!gojo, modern au, also roommate gojo, they’re both about mid-twenties here, mentions of periods. word count 2.5k

ᯓ notes .ᐟ do not perceive me </3 haha with the state of jjk manga i just wanted some happiness so have some gojo !! this was random and came completely out of nowhere :’) anyway hope you guys enjoy <3

six months after moving into an apartment in the city, your haphazard living quarters (haphazard mostly because the previous tenants had zero interior design sense) has nearly turned into your dream home.

new furniture litters every square feet, the old ones all tossed out. your living room spots a fresh new rug—black and white, thick and furry. the new coffee table is made of glass, magazines and newspapers filling up the space underneath. the couch has been upgraded to a dark leather, oozing a sense of old money somehow.

it’s not just your living room, your bedroom too spots some new upgrades. the single bed has been upgraded to a queen size, new vanity perpendicular to the study desk and your new wardrobe as high as the ceiling itself.

all minimalistic and black and whites and beiges, a far cry from the old and dreary dark blue walls that seem to evoke a sense of dread in you.

of course, while you’d like to claim the credit for yourself, your roommate played a much bigger part in all of this redecorating. he paid for most of it, after all.

“remind me again, satoru, how do you have this much money when you don’t even work?”

satoru stands beside you, having followed your line of sight as the both of you finally finished redecorating the house. he’s standing tall and proud too, like he’s pleased with himself because he knows you like what he’s thought up of here.

a six-foot-three human of godly proportions with the most beautiful face you’ve ever seen. too bad he’s managed to annoy you the moment he first step foot in the apartment.

he turns to look at you, a wink in your direction before that shit-eating grin and a “it’s a secret” being all he offers.

you roll your eyes. “whatever, satoru,” you shrug it off, slumping down on your new leather seats.

he opts to sit right beside you despite the sofa being the width of your entire living room. he’s annoying like that, always up in your space, has to make himself known—he’s been like this ever since he first moved in.

sometimes he makes you question your decision of having a roommate.

“hey y/n, i wanna ask you something!”

you sigh, in the exasperated non-friendly way and glare at satoru, who’s beaming from ear to ear, because every single time he says that, he’ll ask you some ridiculous question.

the last time he did was a few days ago, when he asked about your period cycle, and when you hit him with the pillow, he’d pouted and said, “hey, i just thought i could help you buy some during your time if i ever dropped by the store!”

(which is funny considering how the first time you went grocery shopping together he looked like a kid on a sugar rush, dumping only—and only—sweets and pastries into the shopping cart.)

“do i get to say no?”

“nope!” and he still has that happy lilt to his voice.

“why do i even bother with you, satoru?” you rub your temples before resigning yourself to look at him with a straight face.

satoru shifts his position so he’s leaning on his side, watching you dreamily. it’s such a crime that he looks like that—it’s so easy for him to make hearts melt. “do you have a boyfriend?”

he nearly makes you choke on nothing. as much as you want to manoeuvre out of such talk with him, you know that you’re just signing up for a much longer conversation with him if you don’t just give him a straight answer.

“no,” you say, contemplating just stopping there, but then again, you don’t want him to get any ideas. “and i’m not looking for one, satoru.”

right on cue, he pouts. but somehow, something tells you he expected your answer already. “but you don’t have one, so i can try,” he says, as if to affirm the idea to himself.

“yeah you can try, but i’ll keep saying no, satoru, so don’t even bother.” you’re trying your best to get him not to even try, but satoru’s optimism is probably one of the strongest things to exist on this earth.

after a continuous fifteen minutes of you insisting that the more he tries, the more it’d turn you off, you thought you’d gotten through to him.

until one week later when he proves all your efforts were for naught.

he shows up at the lobby of your company building, looking all dashing and everything like a modern prince charming would, leaning against the hood of his car while he scrolls through his phone, evidently waiting for you because you’ve decided to ignore all his questions for the past two hours (of which all were trying to get you to tell him what time you get off work).

thanks to his little stunt (showing up at your workplace and basically forcing you to ride with him or else he’ll make an even bigger display of affection), everyone at the office now thinks you’re already dating that tall dreamy man, or that you’re crazy not to.

after you say you’re still not interested, he’s moved on to other forms of… seduction.

one night, you go home to see him in just his sweats, cooking dinner and to top it off, it’s your favourite dish.

you scoff in disbelief, flinging your purse down onto the dining table. (a variation of light oak you both agreed would look good with everything else.) “satoru, what is this?”

he turns around, abs on full display as he acts coy. the spatula in his right hand turning a circle as he shrugs. “what do you mean? just cooking some dinner, want some?”

oh, you’ll get him for this. you don’t know how, but one day you will. he’s taken everything you said you liked about a contestant on a dating show and is currently trying to embody everything he is just to tempt you into dating him.

(it’s unfair that you somehow think satoru is much more handsome than anyone on tv, but you’re never going to tell him that. never.)

“satoru.”

(your tone is nearly akin to that which his mother often used on him when he was young. you’re kind of scary sometimes.)

his disinterested expression eases into an easy smirk, his lower back leaning against the counter. “oooh, you’re so hot when you’re all angry, babe.”

“i’m not your babe and the answer is still no!”

(he ends up burning whatever he was trying to cook because he was too busy turning his attention to you.)

the next time he tries, he’s sending you bouquets of flowers to you. at your workplace, right in full view of everyone including your bosses, who all seem to be so interested in your love life now. especially when what they’re reading are things like “can’t wait to see you when you get home, miss you ♡”.

so now the entire office thinks you live with your boyfriend and rumours have spread that you’re going to get married soon. how on earth that second part got out of hand you have no idea.

now everyday when you get home, he has something for you. it varies from time to time, and they range from food to high-end jewellery. he keeps trying to play a game of hit or miss, trying to gauge by your expressions every time he gives you his gift, trying to decide whether you like it or not.

three months later, you can safely say he has your food preferences nailed. as for everything else, like fashion and accessories, there’s more to be said. you didn’t want to accept all his gifts, especially not when you’re going to hate yourself for possibly leading him on, but satoru has never been one to take no for an answer. ever since the day you first met him really, when he only insists on you calling him by his first name and refuses to tell you his last. (yet he wants to know everything about you.)

satoru’s infuriating.

“you know, you keep doing all this without knowing whether i’ll ever say yes, or whether or not i’m taking advantage of you, why won’t you stop?” you ask when you get home one day, tired as shit because an important (yet unreasonable) client has taken the opportunity to shit on you earlier today for things that they failed to do.

it makes you wonder whether satoru ever thinks the same about you; whether you’re an asshole for just… being the way you are.

he tilts his head to the side, the gift in his hand, inside a pretty paper bag, falling to his side as he thinks. “nah, you’re not like that.”

“like what?”

“whatever bad thing you’re thinking about yourself,” satoru decides, moving forward to ruffle your hair. usually you move away, but this time you let him.

“and how are you so sure?”

he pouts a little, as if it’s a disappointment you don’t already know. “i dunno what you’re thinking about, but i happen to like you. a lot.”

“satoru, you barely know me.”

“maybe. but i at least know you’re independent though, you always like to get shit done yourself and you do it all well. and i like the way you work hard, even after you get back home. and you always feed the stray cats outside our apartment, that’s why you hate it when you get off work late.”

there’s a lot of things satoru notices that you probably don’t know about. and here you are, thinking he’s just doing all this for the heck of it. still, it’s an awkward topic that you’re not sure how to continue.

“that’s it?” you mumble sheepishly, averting your gaze.

satoru grins, eyes forming cute little half moons. “want me to say more? i have more, how about—”

“okay you can shut up now!” you exclaim, lunging forward to cover his mouth with your hands, though all that does is give him a reason to shoot you his signature shit-eating grin.

“icanshwotallygibyoumorereasonswhy—”

you yank your hands away, realising it does nothing to actually shut him up.

“i like you,” he finishes. still grinning. still proud of himself. still holding your new gift in his hand.

and maybe it’s the way he’s trying relentlessly, tirelessly, even in the face of all your rejections. or maybe it’s the way you notice that he’s trying, earnestly. because honestly? you don’t know what you can offer him. he seems to do just well enough by himself. and with looks like that? you don’t doubt he can attract some powerful socialites if he wants.

or perhaps it’s the way he’s prattling on about how he saw you using up your planner pages already that one time you were perched on the balcony area doing your work that he’s shamelessly now praising himself for getting you more pages because the last time, you said to stop it with the super expensive gifts.

“i think i’m a pretty good listener—”

“okay, satoru,” you concede, a ghost of a smirk tugging the corners of your lips.

satoru blinks like an idiot, like he’s a deer caught in the headlights, because he can’t believe what you just implied.

“okaaaay as in…” he trails off for a moment, his confusion quickly giving way to a full-on grin, the widest you’ve ever seen on him. “y/n, are you my girlfriend now?”

you hold your pointer finger up and tut him, shaking it back and forth trying not to get him to jump the gun. it’s barely been a minute since you agreed and you can already tell he’s going to be a handful.

“we’re not together—”

“yet,” he corrects you, always the eager one. still grinning, still staring at you dreamily, white lashes and blue eyes the bane of your existence.

you sigh, deciding not to reiterate that. “but i’ll go on a few dates with you, satoru. then by the end of it, you’ll see why we won’t work out.”

that doesn’t dampen his spirits—and at this point, you doubt anything ever will. this time, he’s the one shaking his index finger. “or, you’ll wonder where i’ve been your whole life.”

“perhaps. but maybe because i wanted to murder you.”

satoru hums as if he’s pondering it, then shakes his head. “nah, because you’d curse that we didn’t have more time together,” he says, sticking his tongue out.

he may act like a child in a grown man’s body, and more often than not, you may lament internally that he’s annoying and doesn’t know the meaning of personal space, but right now, the way his cheeky expression slowly fades into a genuine smile, the way his big hand comes up to your cheek to caress your face, the way his beautiful blue eyes fall to gaze at your lips—you get the hint that satoru’s dangerous.

dangerous because it might be so easy to fall for him, and maybe next time, before you know it, you’ll love him.

for now, it’s enough for you to absorb, and so you bail first before satoru gets to kiss you on the lips.

“dinner saturday, eight?” he calls after you, and you can just make out his smirk even when you’re not looking at him.

you’re still bounding down the hallway to your room. “whatever, you’re paying, satoru,” you declare back to him, realising you’re still flustered from how close he was back there.

“aw, love you too, babe!”

“oh my god, satoru i hate you,” you groan as you shut the bedroom door behind you.

still, behind closed doors, you can hear him chuckling. “i’ll make you fall for me one day, y/n.”

you don’t understand why, but your knees grow weak, and you fall to the floor clutching your purse in your hands. satoru’s charming and handsome and he’s probably everything you dreamed that prince charming would be.

but you also know how easily romance can ruin you.

so why, for the first time in years, do you feel your heart skipping beats and a genuine excited smile forming on your face?

you fish your phone out when you feel the vibration and realise it’s a text from satoru. never one for any type of space, really.

i’ll take care of you, don’t worry. 🫡

you laugh at his use of the emoji, and for the first time, you feel yourself so easily warming up to someone. deciding to throw him a bone tonight, you text him back.

in his room, satoru smiles to himself as he reads your message.

i’m in your hands, then. 🫡

he’s let a lot of people down recently. but you? no, he doesn’t ever want to let you down. for the first time in his life, he’s wondering if this is what love feels like.

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk gojo x reader #jjk imagines #gojo satoru imagines #gojo imagines #૪ aeri’s fics !

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gilverrwrites · 15 days ago

Text

Two Wrongs

Roy Harper/Reader, 1.1K words Kinktober entry 14: Voyeurism Warnings: (Accidental) Non-con voyeurism | Tight spaces Requested by: Authors choice

Watching your roommate getting off through a crack in his wardrobe door certainly wasn't how you’d planned to spend your evening, but it was just one of those situations, you know, like quicksand, once you're in, it becomes increasingly difficult to get back out.

It had all started months ago when he had eaten the last of your leftover pizza. You'd gotten him back by putting glitter in one of his caps. He'd retaliated by stealing ALL of your socks, so you'd tied all of his shoes together by their laces with the most complex knots you could find tutorials for online. The war had been raging ever since. Most recently, Roy had ‘you-proofed’ every drawer, cabinet, and door in the apartment with a bunch of contraptions of his own design. Many of which now lay broken in his scrap bin, destroyed by your impatience.

You'd been in the process of hiding a series of miniature Green Arrow figures around his bedroom when he’d unexpectedly arrived home early. With zero forethought, you'd simply thrown yourself into his closet and hoped he'd either leave or fall asleep soon. Neither were the case.

You watched through a seam in the hatch as Roy entered his room, your jaw falling slack when he'd immediately unzipped his cargo trousers and started palming his dick through his boxers upon closing the door.

He doesn't bother surveying his surroundings, why would he? This should be his safe space. As he approaches the bed, he kicks off his shoes and socks. You're treated to the sight of his captivatingly firm and freckled ass when he removed his bottoms before finally, he falls unceremoniously upon the bed, still donning his cap and tank top.

You shouldn’t look, you tell yourself. You absolutely should not look. This is a huge breach of trust, and you'd never intended to see Roy naked, at least not like this. Yet, a depraved curiosity possesses you.

It's big. Bigger than you’d imagined, but not intimidatingly so. More, mouth-wateringly so. Thick, cut, straight, and surrounded by a thicket of fiery red hair to match that on his head.

The whole scene is strangely hypnotic; his even, rhythmic strokes, the sordid slap of his spit-slicked hand meeting the base of his cock while he so casually scrolls through his phone. You could watch him all day, but you can't. This goes far beyond a prank, and it certainly isn't fair to him.

You're not brave enough to come clean, you've seen too much. So you gently lean away from the door, closing your eyes and trying to block out the raunchy sound of Roy's heavy breathing until it’s over. Hopefully, he’ll shower or fall asleep after and you can sneak out then.

You're not expecting to hear a voice, so your heart almost stops when you hear someone squeal his name. Shit. Had he called someone? Was he seeing someone? You're struck with a pang of jealousy until you realise the voice in question is your own.

“Ahh, Roy! Are you filming me?” It’s quiet, and tinny but there’s no doubt in your mind. You can even recall when he’d recorded it; Back in the early days of your prank battle, on a hot summer day. You'd been strewn out on the couch, half-asleep in a moderately skimpy outfit that you certainly hadn’t hoped would grab Roy’s attention when you'd noticed him hovering over you with his camera. At the time you’d just assumed it was ammo for some harmless joke. Evidently not.

Peeking through the door again, you watch once more as he continues to stroke his dick, freckled cheeks growing ruddy, jaw tight as he loses himself more and more, eyes fixate on his phone screen as he uses his thumb to repeatedly rewinds back to the first few seconds of the clip. “Ahh, Roy! Ar- Ahh, Roy! Are y- Ahh, Roy!”

The debauched symphony of Roy getting off to the sound of your voice has your body feeling feverish, and you have to fight the urge to grind your nails into the wooden panel that separates you from your housemate. You’re not sure which you want more, to stuff your hand between your legs and knead you’re aching sex in time with Roy’s thrusts, or to exit your hiding spot, climb his husky, tattooed body, and ride him until you’re both completely and utterly fucked. Paralyzed by indecision, you instead watch him, restlessly motionless as he starts to lose control.

The phone falls from Roy’s hand as he bucks his way to the finish line, your name becoming a quiet, breathless prayer on his lips whilest he fucks into his hand from beneath. His eyes close, and he chews on his bottom lip, muscles growing tight until he finds his climax. You watch spellbound as an obscene amount of thick, white cum leaks from his cock, dripping down onto his hand. Wilder, stray droplets launch high, landing on his shirt but Roy neither cares nor notices as he writhes deeper into the mattress, riding out a full body high until he has nothing left to give.

You’re just as fascinated, watching him lay near motionless, enjoying the aftershock, as you had been observing the climax. There had always been tension between the two of you, but you’re starting to realise that you might be down worse than you’d thought.

Eventually, Roy returns to the land of the living, slowly shifting back up. With his clean hand, he removes his cap and pulls his soiled shirt over his head, using it to mop up the mess he’d made of himself and throwing it out of your limited line of sight. Whatever he was aiming for, you don’t doubt he made the shot.

Though you’re disappointed that the show is over, you’re growing angsty at being confined to the four walls of his closet, so when he kicks his legs over the side of the bed you get excited. The prospect of escape is so close you can taste it, until he grabs his phone once more. If he goes down a rabbit hole, you could be stuck here for hours you think, as he taps away at the touchscreen. You’re about to slink back against the wall and try to get comfortable when you’re heart drops. You feel it first, the buzz in your back pocket followed by the custom ringtone Roy had picked out for himself. Instinctively, your arms fumble to grab your phone and turn it off but Roy’s head has already snapped in your direction, his face looking as pale and as panicked as you feel on the inside.

If you're reading this, you have impeccable taste.

Kinktober Masterlist

#roy harper/reader #roy harper x reader #roy harper #arsenal/reader #arsenal x reader #arsenal #gilverrwrites #kinktober #gn reader #tw voyeurism #tw claustrophobia

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illubean · 10 months ago

Note

Can you write something for reader stealing illumis clothes to wear? :3

Favorite Sweater

Characters: Illumi Zoldyck Type: Fluff, Oneshot, Gn!reader

certified Zoldyck fashion icon right here

Warnings: none

There were many perks to having a rich boyfriend. But one thing you didn't expect to like so much is his extensive wardrobe. It's almost as if he had an outfit for every occasion. He had so many articles of clothing and yet you had only seen him wear the same 5 outfits.

He wouldn't mind if I borrowed some of this...right?

You looked towards the door of the room and back into the grand walk-in closet before you. Illumi was out on a job and wouldn't be back until later this evening, so you could have your fun playing dress up without getting caught.

Making your decision, you step into the closet and look around at the sleek, black shelves. There were so many things hung around the space. He had a wall of suits, another for shoes, then more casual clothes neatly folded and stacked on top of each other.

After looking through all his fancier clothes, you make your way over to the every-day wear and search for something you might steal. Even all of his casual clothes belonged to expensive brands.

Tom Ford, Valentino, Versace, Yohji Yamamoto...geez I could only wish to own this much designer.

During your search, one particular item caught your attention. A soft, purple zip up that was vaguely familiar.

Now where have I seen this before...

A few moments passed then it finally clicked. This was one of his favorite sweaters when he was a teen. You'd seen it in many photos that his mother had. Smiling at the thought, you decided he wouldn't mind if you were to borrow this for the day. Putting the sweater on and making sure you left your boyfriend's closet as clean as you found it, you went on your merry way.

A few hours had passed since your raid on Illumi's closet, and you were now laying on his bed, reading a book. You heard a click as the bedroom door opened, signaling your boyfriend was home. You looked up from your book and smiled.

"Welcome home Illu-bae"

He hummed in acknowledgement, walking past you and towards the closet you had been poking around in hours prior. But suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and turned towards you before tilting his head.

"bitch Is that my sweater?"

You looked down at yourself and back at the man.

"Huh, I guess it is."

He only blinked before returning to his previous task, changing out of his dirty clothes. After changing, he wordlessly approached the bed and flopped directly on top of you. You let out a puff of air at the sudden impact, while Illumi layed his entire body weight on you. Huffing, you set your book to the side and brought your hands to play with his hair.

"You're heavy."

"You know that was my favorite sweater?" he questioned, completely disregarding your previous statement.

"Mhm. Y'know Illumi, you should start wearing different outfits. I mean seriously, there's so many things in your closet that would look so good on you!"

He hummed before sitting up slightly to look at you in your eyes. With the same stoic expression he always has, he says

"Yeah, well I like this sweater on you more."

#hxh 2011 #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter #hxh #hxh illumi #illumi zoldyck #illumi headcanons #illumi x you #illumi x reader #illumi #illumi hxh #illumi oneshot #hxh fanfic #hxh oneshot

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lennadanvers · 6 months ago

Text

Winter back home

Simon Riley x Reader

He has a problem.

He’s had problems all his life. He’s got a lot of experience in dealing with problems, really. The ones that can be solved with bullets, anyway.

This is not that kind of problem. Well, maybe a bullet could take care of this. But he promised himself he would never take that path. So, he suffers.

His problem is the dichotomy. His problem is Ghost, months of suffocating under a stale mask, the orders, the blood, the uniform. His problem is Simon, weeks of nothing, the silence, the civilian comfort, being a person.

He’s gone. Somewhere between base and “home”- a cold, dark flat in the outskirts of London-, he lost his soul. Now he isn’t here nor there. None of his names fit him.

He is just a being, two legs on top of two feet that can’t stand the feeling of dry, clean socks inside of simple sneakers. A head, a neck, on top of a pair of shoulders too wide to fit the door of normalcy. A back too tight to bear the weight of actual life. Hands too strong to hold reality without breaking it, skin so rough it tears instead of caressing. A pair of eyes that do not know where to look if not for threats.

He's a storm waiting to happen. Too dark to be a person, too broken to be a man. Too heavy for a ghost.

The flat feels wrong. Especially the first few days. He has to open the windows to let the fresh air in- more like freezing air. It’s okay, he’s used to dealing with the cold. It’s actually being comfortable what makes him uneasy. The fact that he has so much space for himself. He doesn’t have things. He doesn’t own more than a couple changes of clothes. His sofa looks new, even though he bought it years ago. His bed is soft, his bedside table is empty. He owns a table, two chairs and headphones. One bottle of water. Four glasses, a cheap six-piece cutlery set. Some plates he bought on sale. One rug he doesn’t step on. A broom. Shampoo, toothbrush and toothpaste are in the bag he brings from base. Even his bike just takes up half his designated parking space.

Other than that, he has nothing.

The other thing that bothers him is the silence. He should be able to sleep in the quiet- he’s fallen asleep in active bombing zones, for God’s sake. But the white noise of the cars, the soft humming of the refrigerator- all they do is keep him awake. It’s always too quiet, too… Too safe. He knows it’s a trap. It always is.

That’s why he checks the windows.

Like now, when he enters the apartment in silence. The lights stay off until he’s cleared every room. Then he turns them all on. His duffel bag goes into the wardrobe, still closed. The boots under the bed. He changes into civilian clothes, checks the pantry- empty, always empty- and starts his rounds.

He checks the three windows: the small one in the bathroom, the one in the bedroom that looks over the neighbor’s rooftop, and the one in the living room. Usually, the last one is his favorite. The view lets him keep an eye on the street, alert in case there’s something suspicious lurking down there.

This time, though, he can’t look down.

He’s stuck in the window in front of his. The apartment building across the street is nicer than the one he’s standing in. By his standards, anyway. That means it looks warm and worn down. Brick walls instead of grey cement, wood stairs instead of metal. It has pots with flowers and an old mirror in the entrance.

There’s only one apartment with the lights still on. It’s late, he reminds himself, for normal people. Most of them are asleep at two in the morning.

You’re not. Through your open curtains, he can see your tired face. You’re curled up on a desk chair, with messy hair and reading glasses on. Your pajama is cute, it looks soft and a little too big. It fits you perfectly. You’re holding a steaming cup and frowning at the pile of papers on top of your desk.

When you fix the -presumably hand-knitted- blanket on top of your shoulders, he frowns. Aren’t you cold? You should close the window.

And go to bed, while you’re at it. What are you doing up this late, anyway? Working? He hopes not. A cute little thing like you should have a quiet job, with stable working hours and low stress. But you look very stressed. Maybe you’re studying. That’s it, probably. You don’t look his age, but he’d bet you’re in your late twenties, maybe thirties.

He pictures you getting a degree. It’s easy, you look smart. Oh, you must have a degree already. Surely, he decides, you must have one. You’re getting a doctorate now, aren’t you?

It’s a silly question, of course. He knows nothing about you, except that you should be sleeping instead of munching at a cookie. But it’s a relief to pretend he does. To believe he can see life through your window. If he had to guess, that’s what living looks like: a woman in the room, plans for the future, eating homemade treats and knowing you’ll survive the upcoming test, even if you don’t pass.

For the first time since he bought this place, he’s actually there. As if taking a deep breath, Simon is suddenly aware of his body. The t-shirt he’s wearing is soft, a little too thin for the weather. The place smells like leather- must be the sofa. Was the ceiling always this high? Simon makes a mental note to buy air freshener and a blanket.

It takes him a couple of days of staring out the window to realize what happened.

It’s Friday, and he’s checked your closed blinds for the third time this afternoon. Simon hasn’t seen you today. He sighs and turns around. He goes to open one of the kitchen drawers when it hits him.

There are cookies in there. Two different kinds. And he’s wearing slippers- they were on sale at the supermarket, and he didn’t even think about it. But he’s thinking about it now. Simon looks around. One of his jackets is hanging by the door. There’s lint on the rug. The cushions on the sofa are out of their place. He left a mug on the counter.

He's living again.

It a crushing discovery. Once he saw it, it’s impossible to miss. He made plans. He has tickets to watch a movie next Tuesday. When was the last time he planned something other than a mission? And cookies? Simon hasn’t eaten cookies since he enlisted. Maybe longer. His clothes are comfortable. Actually comfortable, he doesn’t need to ignore the fabric irritating his skin. The windows are closed: he’s not cold. It’s quite nice, honestly. And the place smells like someone lives here. A mix of cologne, tea and leftovers from lunch.

The flat doesn’t feel empty. Simon doesn’t feel empty.

His muscles give out. It’s not a dramatic fall, more like an extreme relaxation. It hurts a little; like clenching your fist for hours and then letting your hand open. The blood starts flowing back with a tingle. The oxygen gets where it is supposed to go. There is a strange open space in the palm of your hand.

The relieved smile is a side effect.

He still wears it when he settles back down on the couch. Someone is playing music outside, and the plants on your building’s hall are blooming. What a weird time to bloom, in the middle of the cold.

Simon understands, though, when he sees you finally open your blinds.

Yes, he gets the desire to be alive now.

A/n: I sat down to write and four hours later I'm posting this. It is not proofread and I'm a little too tired to care. Maybe I'll fix it later. Also, my anxiety has been a bitch lately (that means I freeze instead of being able to reply to messages and asks- my poor friends have the patience of a thousand saints stacked on top of each other), so I won't reply to the asks today. Maybe tomorrow, we'll see. In any case, I hope you're all having a great weekend, full of flowers and treats <3

#fanfiction #cod #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #lennadanvers #lenna writes #fanfic #task force 141 #simon riley cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n

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motimatcha · 9 months ago

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rings

hazbin hotel Adam x fem!reader. Adam boasts; you think; a little hint of something more at the end.

— Yo, [name] check out what I have, — Adam says enthusiastically, bursting into your shared bedroom.

By the time the angel entered the room, you had just finished changing into your home clothes in the form of a very long and loose shirt, which hid your home shorts. The shirt, by the way, previously belonged to Adam, but he was nice enough to share part of his wardrobe with you.

— Oh, how sweet, apparently someone missed me, — Adam says touchingly, and stars are reflected in his eyes when he pays attention to your appearance.

Taking off the mask from his face and turning his head in different directions, allowing his gray hair to take its natural position, Adam plops down on your bed. He lies in place for a while, allowing himself to stretch out to his full height, until a joint crack and a sigh are heard. And only after that he rises again on his elbows to take his place next to you.

Adam falls silent again, enjoying the silence of the moment and the fact that you both are together again. Your hand falls on his head, closes in his gray hair and twists individual strands around his fingers, prompting the man to blissfully close his eyes and practically fall asleep under your gentle hands. His golden wings flutter from this sensation and he, more instinctively than acting on his own will, covers your body with one of his wings.

Adam puts his hand under your body, you feel something cold, but you prefer not to pay attention to it, thinking that the angel’s hands were simply frozen; Adam’s other hand rests on your stomach, his long fingers tracing circles and patterns on your skin.

— So, what did you want to show me?

— Oh, fuck, that's right. I almost forgot about that, — Adam snaps his head up, causing you to remove your hand from his hair. — Look look.

He shows you the hand that was rubbing your stomach. In the light of the room lamp, you notice that something shines on his fingers and a second later you realize that they are black rings: one on the little finger, two rings on the index finger and one on the thumb — made of black metal, without any inserts or decorations, The rings complemented his rock star look and definitely suited him in his exorcist attire. But it could not be denied that the rings on his long fingers, as if designed for wearing such accessories, looked delicious. And it's hot…

— A gift after the concert from… whatever that bitch’s name was… it doesn’t matter, — the angel explained, taking your long glance as a question. — It’s on the other hand too. By the way, I left you one too.

…you imagined how those ringed fingers would tease your pussy…

— …I’m thinking about getting myself a piercing…

…you imagined how those fingers with rings would clasp your neck, tickling your nerves from the feeling of the coldness of the metal and its hot skin…

— …Maybe I’ll pierce my tongue and put something in my ears.

...you imagined how Adam would plunge his fingers into your mouth, making them suck like the sweetest candy or his dick...

— What do you think, sweetie?

— What?

— Hey, weren’t you fucking listening to me? — Adam asks with offense in his voice and looks into your face. Your gaze is distant, thoughtful, lustful… Adam's lips are distorted into a smirk when he catches the motive of your thoughts. — Oh, baby, I see you like my ideas. And my rings.

Adam’s voice is deceptively gentle, practically purring in your ear as he shifts his position. The man sits down at your bent knees and in one smooth motion pushes your knees to the side to make himself comfortable.

— I think I can give this good girl all my attention.

the idea came into my head after a tik tok video where adam had rings and piercings and now i can't stop thinking about it. Maybe it's time for me to go touch the grass. I don't think the world will collapse if I send you a link to the video.

#adam x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel x reader

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pedropascalsx · 10 months ago

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A Long Awaited Reward. {Dave York x F! Reader!}

Rating: Explicit.

Word Count: 15.8k

Warnings: Unhappy marriage, known infidelity, ?slightly forced hand, mention of car crash (no injuries), oral sex (m&f receiving), P in V sex, loss of virginity, fingering, cock warming, some feelings, derogatory language, aftercare.

Comments: Dave has been cleaning up after his wife for too long, and you tempt him with a proposition that he can’t resist.

Co-written with @absurdthirst ❤️

Gif by me: @pedropascalsx!

Carol York is perfect. She has the perfect family, the perfect house, the perfect car and her most prized possession; her perfect husband.

Everything about Carol York is perfect… or so it seems.

The truth is Carol York has her demons, skeletons that are piled up in her closet, haunting the rows of designer shoes and racks of glamorous gowns that seldom get to see the light of day.

But to anyone you may ask, they would likely describe Carol York as a perfectionist, kind, generous, charitable and all around the perfect housewife; but you knew otherwise.

You spotted her the moment she waltz into the hotel bar, clutching her designer purse in one hand and her phone in the other. She was with her usual group of friends, all equally as loud and pretentious.

Sitting quietly in the corner and picking at the rest of the food on your plate you rolled your eyes as her group of friends laughed so loudly it made the glassware shake, really you had no real reason to dislike her but you couldn’t help it. The whole stepford wives persona that they all exude simply leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

You think back to the first time you had met her about ten years ago, still in your teens and still in high school, she had loudly made a comment about how boys never notice the plain, boring ones while looking you up and down. Everyone had laughed along with her, even your mom, who then spent the next few weeks trying to talk you into buying a new wardrobe but you weren’t interested.

You left the bar before she did that night, sneaking out without her noticing you and pulling into your driveway about five minutes before you heard her speeding around the corner. Her brand new Mercedes squealing as she drove straight into Mr. Perkins’ Chevy. You opened your door to check on her but before you could step out, you saw Dave running towards her. She stumbled out of the car giggling as she admired the damage she caused, clearly enjoying the look of annoyance on her husband's face.

You couldn’t make out their conversation but you could tell he was furious, shaking his head as he pulled out his phone and made a brief phone call. Slowly, you started to close the door, not wanting them to see that you had witnessed everything and once the door was gently pushed shut you made your way to bed.

You woke up the next morning to a commotion outside your bedroom window, neighbours all lining up to get a look at the damage that had been caused by the selfish driver that had left no note and that’s when you saw her... Standing next to Mr Perkins shaking her head and pretending to be just as outraged as he was.

Over the next few days you had considered sending an anonymous note, or anonymously contacting the police but ultimately decided to keep quiet, despite the guilt that kept you from sleeping at night. It wasn’t your business and you weren’t about to go to war with the Yorks.

Carol could make your life hell. But Dave… Dave seemed like he’d be capable of so much more.

Dave growls as he rewatches the tape from a few days earlier, making sure that he hadn’t missed anything from that night. One of their neighbours had caught the whole thing on their RING doorbell camera but thankfully Dave was able to have Resnick hack into their accounts and delete all the footage and make it look like the camera had unfortunately stopped working a few hours before the accident.

It was only as he was about to delete the last trace of evidence from that evening he noticed it. Your door barely in the frame, opening a few inches and closing just as he got off the phone to Ari - who had managed to get the exact model Mercedes Carol owned and replace it with the damaged one before daylight began to fall across the neighbourhood.

“Shit.” He hisses as he slams his hand against his desk. Your parents were out of town on their cruise, so he knew that the person who witnessed his wifes reckless behaviour had to have been you. He ponders for a second why you hadn’t said anything yet and wonders if it’s worth just letting things sit… but decides that paying you a visit is the best course of action.

He slides his phone into his pocket and makes his way downstairs to his wife and kids… hating the way her face is buried into her phone as the girls watched Tangled for the 10,000th time this month.

“We need to talk, honey,” he says with a smile, as not to concern the girls. “Now.”

“Sure,” she says with a roll of her eyes, before following him into her ‘crafts’ room.

The second she waltzes in the room, he closes the door and swings around to face her with a look of fury on his face, “You had a fucking witness,” he scowls, “And she saw the whole fucking thing.”

“What?” Carol says in utter disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

With venom dripping from every word he tells her everything that he could make out from the video. How it was clear that you saw everything and how they had to pay you a visit and make sure that you keep your pretty little mouth shut and not ruin their comfortable little life in the unsuspecting suburbs.

The doorbell makes you jump, not expecting anyone and planning on having a quiet night in front of the TV with leftover chinese food and netflix, you groan as you pull yourself up and off your sofa.

“Evening,” a raspy voice growls at you, as the door swings open, “I think we need to have a little chat.”

Dave pushes past you and Carol enters right behind him as you step back in shock. Every single thing about Dave York is entirely intoxicating, his scent, his voice and the fact he’s the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on doesn’t help either. Even in the comfort of your own house, you’re being commanded by him and following him into your kitchen.

“Can I get you both a drink?” You ask after a few uncomfortable minutes, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your hands shake.

“No. Enough drinking.” Dave cuts his eyes towards Carol, annoyed that he’s in this position. If it weren’t for the fact that the bitch knows what he does, would threaten to tell everyone, he wouldn’t bother fixing this mess she got herself into. “Sit down.” He orders, kicking the chair opposite him out from under the table.

“Yes, sir,” you say with a gulp, unsure why you addressed him with such authority. “How can I help you?” You ask meekly.

“Have fun the other night?” Dave’s eyes are flat, emotionless as he leans in to stare into your own. Using the intimidation that comes so easily to him.

“Wha-what do you mean?” You stutter, your body almost frozen in fear as you look over at him.

“Going out.” He doesn’t expand on that, wanting you to spill what you know without him giving you anything more.

“I went out for a meal with a few friends from my book club on Tuesday at The Charlton Hotel.” You say quietly, managing to rip your eyes from his for a few seconds before he’s commanding them back with a sharp tut.

“And?” He demands harshly. “What else happened?”

“I think you know.” Is all you say, your voice small and barely higher than a whisper. You glance over at Carol who has a smug look plastered on her face as she watches her husband clean up her mess yet again.

“Say it.” He growls, slapping his hand down on the table, making you jump. He hates this, hates having to fucking clean up yet another one of her messes, but he has his girls to think about.

“I heard Carol drive into Rodney’s car, and saw you start to hide the evidence.” Tears start to stream down your face, as you realize just how much danger you may be in.

Good. Now that you’ve admitted what you’ve seen, he can make sure you keep it quiet. Dave reaches out and captures your jaw in his hand. Leaning in threateningly, he grunts. “But you aren’t going to say anything, are you?”

The yelp you make as his hand harshly squeezes your jaw makes Carol squeal with laughter, but you block it out, concentrating on forcing out a small ‘no, sir’ as your tears begin to fall even harder, and your sobs grow louder.

He watches you for a moment. Not particularly enjoying the tears or the distress in your eyes, but he can’t risk his wife being arrested. “Good.” His tone softens slightly and his thumb brushes the bone of your jaw slightly. “Always knew you were smart.”

You nod your head to acknowledge that he just spoke to you, his fingertips are still gently brushing against your jaw as you stare into his eyes. “I promise I won’t say a thing.”

“You promise huh?” Dave snorts, admiring how innocent you are. “I think I’m gonna need a little more reassurance than that.”

“I’ll sign an NDA,” you stutter, “I’ll do anything.” Carol's cruel laughter makes you shudder, but it just makes Dave rub your chin a little harder.

“No, I don’t think that will work.” He doesn’t know how he should keep you quiet, just that you need to stay that way. “Maybe I should just make the problem go away.” He threatens.

You start to shake your head and pull away, the fear evident in your eyes, “No… no… what does that even mean?”

“What do you think that it means?” He asks, his voice deceptively soft.

“Getting rid of me,” you say almost silently, the tone of your voice softer than a whisper.

“I don’t want to do that.” He admits. “So what is going to keep your pretty little mouth shut for the rest of your life?”

“I’ll sign whatever you want,” you say again, not really sure what he means.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I need something on you. Something you don’t want to get out.” He decides, smirking slightly.

“Like what?” You say, with a look of confusion plastered on your face.

“I’ll take pictures of you.” He decides, figuring you are - if not a virgin, close to it. You would be mortified if naked pictures of you were released to your family. “And if you breathe a word, I send them to every family member you have.”

“What?” Carol scoffs out from behind him. “I’ll take them. You are not seeing her naked.”

You remain silent as you listen to them go back and forth, unsure what to say, wanting to refuse but fear keeping your lips firmly closed.

“I told you I would handle this.” Dave hisses. “So shut up while I handle it.”

“Handle it then,” she growls back at him, “But I will handle taking any photos.” She stares at you with a look of disgust on her face as she shakes her head. “Plus I doubt she’s ever had a man as attractive as you see her naked before and I don’t want the desperate little slut trying to tempt you.”

“She’s a virgin.” Dave grunts, even though he doesn’t know that for certain. “Only slut in this room is you.”

“I-I don’t think that’s necessary,” you start to say, voice trembling as you try to find some confidence, they’re right but you don’t want to admit it to them, “I won’t say anything and let’s be honest… even if I did no one would believe me.”

“Aw bless her,” Carol mocks looking over at Dave, “Don’t worry honey, we know someone like you couldn’t handle someone like my Dave. And he’s not available anyway.”

Dave shakes his head, holding his hand up to silence his wife. “Then tell me what will keep you quiet.” He demands, his dark eyes on you.

You look over at Carol and see the cruel smirk on her face and the words just fall from your mouth and float heavily in the air.

“You. I want one night with you.”

“Absolutely not,” Carol bellows at you from across the table, “How dare you!”

“Shut the fuck up.” Dave snaps, whipping his head around and glaring at Carol until she sits back. While she’s smug towards you, she’s also just slightly afraid of him. When he’s satisfied that she will be quiet, he turns back towards you. “What did you say?”

You concentrate on him, refusing to look back over at her despite her yelling. “I want a night with you.” You squirm in your seat under his stare, the expression on his face neutral as he watches you.

“A night for what?” He demands, wanting to hear you say it out loud. Carol huffs and grumbles under her breath beside him but he ignores her as he watches you.

“I want you to fuck me,” you say as quietly as you can. Your fingernails digging into your thighs to stop yourself shivering with anxiety.

“She wouldn’t know what to do with you,” Carol taunts cruelly. Furious at what she’s hearing.

“Neither did you.” Dave snorts, looking over at his wife and giving you a moment since you look like you are about to pass out. The idea has merit and his cock twitches when he thinks about ruining you.

“Maybe before we do anything you can take that picture,” you say, unable to meet his eyes.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Before, during, and after I’m done with you.” He corrects.

“You’re speaking like you’re going along with this madness,” Carol spits at Dave.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Dave asks, smirking slightly. “How many people have you fucked over the last eight years?”

You watch as she incoherently mutters something in response under her breath. Still squirming in your seat as you think about Dave’s hands roaming over your body.

“You thought I didn’t know?” Dave scoffs, chuckling under his breath. “Sweetheart, I know exactly how many dicks you’ve taken, how many times you’ve taken them. Why shouldn’t I wreck our pretty little neighbor to save your skin?”

“So is this happening?” Your timid voice asks, as they take a break from going at each other's throats.

“No,” Carol screeches back, “Dave is going to pull out his checkbook and write you a pretty little cheque and you’re going to keep your mouth quiet or I'm going to inform every woman in this neighbourhood what a nasty little whore you are.”

“No you won’t.” Dave growls at Carol. “You can have all the dick you want but I cant fuck her?” He snorts. “Go wait at the house.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She growls at him, before looking you up and down one more time. “You really think you can handle a night with him, sweetheart? He’ll be bored senseless within the first ten minutes.”

“We’ll see,” you say quietly, “Maybe I'll surprise us both.”

“Go to the fucking house, Carol.” Dave hisses. “Or shut your fucking mouth. You’re the reason this is even fucking happening.” He’ll blame her, making sure she won’t try to blame you. “If you hadn’t fucked up, she wouldn’t be in a position to ask for sex.”

Your eyes remain focusing on him as she spews some colourful language in your direction before storming out the kitchen and out of the house.

“Now.” Dark, amused eyes turn towards you. He has to admire the gumption of your demand. “What makes you think that fucking me will keep that mouth of yours shut?” He asks. “Just having my cock in it?”

“You can take the photos,” you say, with a shrug, “I know the hell she’d cause for me and my family if I was to ever say a single word.”

“Why do you want me to fuck you?” He asks seriously. Wanting to know your reasoning behind this.

“She’s getting what she wants, my silence. Figured I’d ask for something that I’ve always wanted… You.” With a shaky breath, you reach your arm out to touch him, “Everyone wants you. You can’t pretend that women don’t throw themselves at you.”

“Everyone doesn’t want me.” Dave shakes his head. Some women might be attracted to him, but he also scares some off. “But if you want me, I have to ask what’s wrong with you?” He smirks.

“Read too many filthy stories,” you say with a giggle, “I don’t know. Lonely I guess.”

“I’m not the easiest to take.” He warns you. “And I like to fuck hard.”

A gasp escapes you at the way he’s speaking to you, but you can’t ignore the way your body reacts to him. “One night. I’m yours to do as you please with.”

Sitting back, he rocks his jaw as he contemplates it. “Are you on birth control?” He demands.

“No,” you admit, “But I can show you that I’m clean. I’ve nev- I can get Plan B and you can watch me take it… That’s if you don’t want to use a condom.”

“I’m not going to use a condom.” Dave decides. “And I’m going to fill two out of your three holes with my cum.” He smirks. “I’ll let you guess which two.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, clearly nervous but excited too. “When? Do I need to do anything to prepare?”

He snorts and reminds himself that you are innocent. “Show up when I call you.” He tells you, standing up and towering over you. “And forget what you saw Tuesday.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, standing up and studying his face for a few seconds. “I saw nothing.”

“Good girl.” He turns around and starts striding to the door, aware that his wife would be spoiling for a fight and he wants to get it over with before the girls come home from their Nana’s house. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” you say softly, watching as he leaves.

It’s a quick walk back to his house, sighing heavily before he opens the door and steps inside.

You immediately throw yourself back down onto the sofa and question whether any of that really happened and you really asked to have sex with Dave York.

“Are you fucking serious?” Carol screeches as she watches Dave stride into the kitchen. “Are you actually considering fucking that little whore?”

Dave pins her with a hot glare. “What do you suggest, Carol?” He hisses. “I’ve got to clean up your mess, remember?”

“That doesn’t mean you get to make a mess with her,” she yells. “You’re not doing it, you can keep up the pretense and then force her to sign an NDA.”

“I’m done with your shit.” He huffs, striding over and grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. “You’ve been nothing but a fucking bitch, and this is your fucking mess!”

“Temper temper, Dave, we both know who’ll end up with the girls if this goes sour.” She says with a smirk, before stepping back and walking towards the cupboard with the wine glasses. “If you fuck her, i’ll take you for everything you’ve got.”

“I’ve got evidence, Carol.” Dave warns you. “Photos, texts, recorded conversations of you cheating.”

“Bullshit,” she says with a cruel laugh, before skulking upstairs with a bottle of wine tucked under her arm.

Dave growls, slapping a coffee mug to the side and wondering what the fuck is going on. Unable to believe that things have gotten so twisted.

A few days have passed since you saw Dave and Carol at your house and you’ve heard nothing. You figure that he changed his mind, and have decided to put the whole thing behind you and move on with the hopes that Carol doesn’t attempt to take revenge over your suggestion.

Laying down in front of the TV the sound of your phone vibrating on the coffee table makes you jump.

‘Tomorrow night’ He sends you a text. ‘’Come over at 8. I’ll be taking you to a hotel.’

‘Is there anything I need to bring’’ You type back immediately, excitement swirling around in your tummy.

‘Your cunt.’ Dave snorts to himself as he hits send.

‘I’ll double check I’ve got it before I leave.’ You send back with a giggle. You decide that you’ll get up early and pop to the mall and buy something special for the occasion.

Dave hums at your smart ass reply, ignoring the way Carol huffs and puffs across from him. She’s pissed but she can just stay mad for all he cares.

You settle on an early night and sleep comes easily to you. You should feel guilty, but you don’t. It’s one night in exchange for keeping a secret for the rest of your life.

Between his wife’s cold shoulder last night and her quiet sullen expression this morning, Dave has had time to muse over what he will do. To contemplate it, rejecting several thoughts, he decides that he will just decide in the moment based of how you respond to him. He’s not a monster, he isn’t going to do things you don’t like, but you chose him. Your silence is worth getting some satisfaction.

The morning flies by and after a very expensive trip to the mall you find yourself clock watching, fighting the nerves and anxiety that are bubbling in your tummy. Wondering if you’re really going to go through with this.

Dave watches as you come and go from your house, working from home and he wonders where you’ve gone. He knows he could quickly find out, but half the fun is the wondering.

After a long soak in the bath and dressing in the new white lingerie you picked up that morning, you pull on your sundress and pack a few things for the hotel. Not convinced you’ll be sleeping but you pack some pajamas anyway, before slowly making your way to the York residence just before 8.

“I can’t believe you are going to do this.” Carol hisses as Dave picks up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Feel free to call the police department and confess to a hit and run while drinking.” Dave snorts, opening the door and looking back at his wife.

You see him at his door, and you shiver with anticipation. You pick up your pace a little until you’re waiting patiently next to his car.

“Get in.” He tells you as he unlocks the door.

“Yes sir,” you say with a shy smile, before climbing in.

Dave hums, taking his bag into the back seat before he climbs behind the wheel.

“So, how are you?” You ask after a few minutes of driving in silence. Clearly nervous and wondering if he can tell.

“Surprised that you are here.” Dave tells you. “Honestly.”

A small giggle slips through your lips and you see his brow raise in response and you’re almost certain his lips began to curl upwards before falling back into their natural state of neutrality. “I’m not… I thought you weren’t ever going to text me though.”

“Why is that?” He looks at you at the stop sign at the end of the road.

“I don’t know,” you say with a shrug, “I guess I figured you already knew I have no intentions of saying anything.”

“I figured that out the second your chin trembled in my hand.” Dave chuckles and sends you a small smirk before he turns to the right and starts driving towards the hotel he had booked.

“Mhmm,” you say, before nervously biting on your bottom lip. “You definitely had me in the palm of your hand.”

“Gotta say I’m surprised you came out and just said that you wanted me to fuck you to keep silent.” He snorts. “Thought Carol was going to stroke out.”

“Yeah, I still can’t believe I said it either.” You admit. “I can’t believe she didn’t punch me.”

“Fuck her.” He rolls his eyes. “She deserves it for being a fucking cunt who acts like she’s got a get out of jail free card for everything.”

“Well then I guess it’s time you got a reward for being such an attentive husband.” You reach over and gently squeeze his knee before letting your hand fall back into your lap.

“Are you a virgin?” Dave asks, wanting to know if it was true. He had said you were, but he didn’t know for sure.

“Is it a problem for you if I am?” You ask quietly. A little nervous about his answer, but figuring that he already knows anyway.

“No.” Dave shakes his head and his cock is throbbing at the thought. “I will just not ram my cock into you. I don’t want you to hate fucking.” He snorts.

“I won’t mind,” you say with another giggle, “I should admit that I’ve thought about it… Thought about you.”

“What have you thought about?” He asks, wanting to know how deep this little crush goes.

You moan as his hand grips onto your thigh, “Dirty thoughts. There was this story I read where the Dad sold his daughter to a crime boss to pay off his debts…”

“Yeah?” He chuckles.” Was I the crime boss? Taking the innocent girl and ruining her?”

“Yes.” Your hand comes down on top of his and gently moves it higher. “Took her virginity and became addicted to her pussy.”

“Hmmmm and you think I’ll become addicted to yours?” He muses.

“Maybe.” You inch his hand up just enough that his fingertips can brush the lace material of your bright white panties, wondering how he’ll react to the wet patch in the center.

“It would have to be pretty good.” He warns you. “Besides, why would you want a man who will cheat on his wife?”

“I don’t think you would do it if she hadn’t pushed you this far,” you say with a shrug, gently letting go of his hand.

“That upset you.” He doesn’t ask, says it as a fact as he turns into the hotel parking lot. He didn’t choose a seedy motel, the nice, modern chain hotel will provide little luxuries and complete privacy.

You don’t say anything, you simply offer a small smile before appreciating the fact he’d clearly put thought into where you were going. “I’m not a silly little girl,” you say as he pulls into a spot, “I don’t expect you to fall in love with me or for anything to come from this, Dave. I know this just for one night.”

“And yet, you’re wearing sexy lingerie.” His hand slides back between your thighs to press against your wet clit.

“I thought you’d like it,” you admit, before moaning his name softly.

“What color is it?” He asks before he chuckles. “White. Right?”

You nod your head, feeling slightly embarrassed at how predictable you are. His demeanour is slightly sharper than before, and you can’t help but ask, “Do you not want to do this?”

“I am trying to figure out if you really want to do this.” Dave tells you seriously.

“I do.”

“Good.” He growls and pulls his hand away. “If you regret it, there’s not a fucking thing I can do after I’m buried deep in your little pussy.”

“I won’t regret it,” you say softly, before cupping his face, “I promise.” In that moment you can’t help but wonder when the last time someone was gentle with him, his body seems to immediately stiffen as your fingertips rub gentle circles into his cheeks.

Dave nods, trying not to pull away from your fingers but they feel too good against his skin. Foreign to a man who spends so much time in darkness.

“Shall we go in?” You ask with a genuine smile, “We don’t have to rush into anything.”

“I’ve already checked in.” He tells you, holding up his phone. “Digital key.”

“Perfect.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and grab your overnight bag and step out the car, waiting for Dave to lead the way.

You are an eager thing, he has to give you that. He claims his own bag and walks around the car, placing his hand on your lower back and guiding you towards the doors.

You love the way his hand feels on you, and wonder how he's planning on taking things tonight. "I think tonight is going to be a good night," you say with a smile as he leads you to the elevators.

"Have you eaten, or were you too nervous?" He asks once you are in the elevator and the doors are closed. The button for the eighth floor is pressed and he looks over at where you are standing close to him.

"I had lunch but nothing else," you tell him, resisting the urge to thread your fingers with his.

"Do you want to eat after?" He won't feed you before. Shooting you a grin, he shrugs. "If you eat now, you might throw up."

"Sounds good," you say with a smile. "I'm never one to turn down food."

"We'll order room service." He decides.

"Perfect." The elevator arrives on your floor and he gestures for you to step out first and you wait patiently for him to lead you to your room.

Dave pulls out his phone, opening the app and walking towards the room so he can open it with the digital key.

You step into the room and admire how nice it is, the king bed in the centre of the room looks nice and inviting. He stands in the doorway and watches you as you look around, "How do you want to do this?" You ask as you spin on your heel to talk to him.

He has to admire how eager you seem to be. Smirking slightly, he lets the door clothes and then flips the lock behind him. "You tell me, sweetheart." He chuckles. "This was your demand. How do you want my cock."

"However you're willing to give it to me," you say, watching as he slowly walks towards you.

"I think I want you to strip for me." He tells you as he brushes past you to sit down in a chair that he pulls next to the bed. Arching a brow at you when he settles down.

"Yes, sir," you say, before unbuttoning your jacket and placing it on the bed. "I've never done this before." You take a few small steps until you're in front of his chair and wait for him to tell you to start.

"Take your time." He tells you. "Do it slowly."

You nod and flash him a small smile before slowly reaching behind to unzip your sundress. Letting the straps slowly fall off your shoulders as the billowy material starts to fall down your body, revealing the brand new lingerie set you had bought earlier that day.

"So innocent." He murmurs, taking in the white lace and yet there is something so dirty about you. You pushed for this, knowing he's married. You want him, however you can have him. "Hmmmm stay just like that." He tells you as he reaches for his belt.

"I got this just for you," you tell him, as your fingertips trail against the soft material. "Do you like it?"

"It's pretty." He coos, smirking as your fingers trail over your body. Something you've obviously done a time or two because you aren't shy about it. "Why don't you come open my pants for me, Princess."

"Yes sir." Walking towards him, you bite your lip in anticipation, and slowly sink down onto your knees in front of him. Your fingers hover for a few seconds before finding the button and popping it open.

Dave watches you, under hooded eyes as you bite and lick your bottom lip. Your fingers fumbling slightly as you drag his zipper down. "Take your time."

You nod your head and wait for him to lift his hips, so you drag down his pants. "What do you want me to do first?"

"What do you want to do?" He asks. "I want you to suck my cock."

"I can do that," you say, as you pull down his pants and boxers in one clean sweep. The sweetest oooooh he's ever heard comes out of you as you see his cock for the first time. Thick, long, rock hard with the tip weeping.

Dave watches you, enjoying the way your eyes widen and you unconsciously lick your lips. Innocent. At least you are innocent enough to fake it. He covers your hand with his and slowly starts to move your hand along his shaft.

"It's so thick," you say, as he helps you increase the pace, "Is it going to fit?"

"It's gonna fit. It'll be a tight little squeeze around my cock." He grunts, twitching in your hand.

"Yeah?" You ask before squeezing him a little tighter, and loving the groan he gifts you in response. "My little pussy is going to fit around this gorgeous cock like a glove."

You might be a virgin, but you've obviously touched a cock before. He grunts, wondering what little boy you touched and how quickly he came. "You are going to scream before you leave this suite."

"Yes, but only your name," you say with a little giggle. "Tell me how good your cock feels in my hand, sir."

"Sir?" His brow arches up and he chuckles. "Do you have a little bit of an authority kink?" He asks, figuring that you would be attracted to him if that was the case. He's been told he has a commanding presence.

"I don't know," you admit with a shrug, still stroking his cock. "I guess I just like the idea of you in charge."

"Open your mouth." He reaches out and grasps your chin. "Taste my cock."

Your mouth falls open immediately, tongue dipping out to lip the head. You've never sucked cock before but you've watched a lot of videos and read a lot of smut, so you remember not to take too much at once and to swallow around him.

"G-good." He grunts as your tongue flutters over the tip and your lips wrap around him. "How do I taste?"

You pull off him with a loud pop, "First cock I've ever sucked, and I already know that no other will compare… Delicious."

He grunts, and his cock twitches in your hand. "Good. Suck it some more." He orders roughly.

You take the base of him in your hand again and wrap your lips around the head, hollowing your cheeks before bobbing up and down slowly, feeling your arousal drip down your thighs as he groans in pleasure.

Dave lets you work at your own pace, slowly exploring him and getting comfortable with his size. You are probably soaking through your panties as you kneel in front of him. "Do you like that? Sucking my cock."

Not wanting to stop, you simply look up at him through your lashes and nod. You take him a little deeper and moan at the stretch, eyes filling with water as fat tears threaten to stain your cheeks.

He can't take his eyes off of you, eyes watering and about to spill down. He wants to see it. He rocks his hips up and pushes his cock deeper into your mouth and grunting when you gag.

You splutter around him, tears now streaming down your face as he grunts something filthy at you. It's overwhelming but you want more, the need to be at his mercy growing stronger as your panties get wetter.

"Slide back." Dave orders with a growl, suddenly wanting to be on his feet over you. "Now."

You obey his command immediately, letting him fall out of your mouth before sliding back and waiting patiently for your next order.

"Open your mouth, stick out your tongue." He stands, his pants shuffling as he moves forward, stroking his cock that is covered with your saliva. "I'm gonna fuck your throat, pretty girl."

You swallow hard at his words and the filthy smirk that spreads across his face tells you that he heard it. You place your hands in your lap and open your mouth, making eye contact as you stick out your tongue.

He smirks at how quickly you follow his order. How eagerly you obey him. "Good girl." He grunts, slapping his cock onto your tongue and then rocking his hips forward to thrust into your mouth.

One of your hands comes up and rests gently on his thigh as he starts to fuck into your mouth, you focus on hollowing you cheeks and swallowing around him. You gag around him as he starts to pick up his pace and you think he likes this, you think he likes seeing your innocent face overwhelmed by his thick cock.

Dave works up a quick pace, moving his hand to the back of your head and pressing you harder onto his cock. Starting to really fuck your mouth to see how much you will drool and choke on him.

The noises you make are filthy, your fingernails dig into his thighs as you gasp for breath, after a few moments you push your head back and pull off him with a loud gasp. Still connected to him with a line of saliva.

"Good girl." He pulls his hips back and he leans down, opening his own mouth and spitting, wanting you to swallow his spit.

"Delicious." You rise up so you're standing toe to toe with him, and you decide to make a move. Wrapping your arms around his neck, and pressing a fleeting kiss to his lips.

"Why do I like every other man is just going to be a disappointment when compared to you?"

"Because they are." He chuckles, sliding his hands down and squeezing your ass. "Now, stretch out on the bed and watch while I get more comfortable."

"Yes sir." Climbing onto the bed, you make yourself comfortable. Letting your fingertips trail down your body as you watch him.

Dave isn't wearing a button down shirt, so he doesn't get to show you how slowly he can undress. But he is making you wait as he slides his shirt up over his head.

"You're so sexy," you whisper, as he starts to shred his clothing.

He chuckles, flattered by your praise because he knows he's not in as good of shape as he used to be. No need when you aren't in the military anymore. He kicks off his shoes and strips off the pants that are already around his ankles.

"What do you want to do to me first?" You ask, as you push yourself up onto your elbows and admire the view.

"Undo your top." He grunts as he starts moving towards the bed. "Want to see your tits."

You reach around and undo your bra, letting the straps fall off your shoulders before pulling it off.

"Fuck." He hisses, imagining biting and sucking on the sweet little nipples you've exposed. "I'll enjoy cumming on them." He tells you. "Turn over, your ass up in the air and your face down on the bed."

You do as he commands, ignoring the way your cheeks burn a little. Waiting patiently to see what he's going to do next.

Kneeling on the bed behind you, he reaches out to caress your ass, enjoying the sight of your panties stretched over your ass. Swatting your cheek, one then the other sharply with his palm. "Fucking dirty."

"You going to keep these panties?" You ask as you lift your face off the pillow. "Something special for you to remember this night."

"Might." He hums. "Might just tie you up with them." He threatens lightly, knowing that he won't.

"You can do anything you want." You say as he softly massages your ass. "Are you taking me like this first?"

"No." He's not going to take you like this. His fingers curl under the waist of your panties and he starts to drag them down.

"Ohhh," you moan as he exposes your dripping wet core. "Dave."

"Nothing to moan about yet." He huffs, lowering himself down to eye level with your cunt. "Yet." Lunging forward, he spreads your cheeks and dives into your cunt from behind.

"Ohhh fuck," you yelp, his tongue beginning the most delicious assault on your cunt. "Don't stop."

He grunts, not bothering to pull away to tell you he has no intention of stopping. Making sure his tongue curls filthily. Licking you from clit to puckered hole.

"Daaaave," you scream, as he starts lapping against your clit, your thighs begin to shake as he pushes you towards paradise.

He actually enjoys eating pussy. Never minding it when his wife wanted until it began to be a one sided thing where she would make excuse after excuse not to suck his dick. So he had stopped doing it. Now, he is ravenous, licking through your folds and greedy to hear your moans.

"How do I taste?" you ask, mimicking his own questions from moments before.

He grunts, flicking his tongue against your clit and slapping your thigh. Enjoying your cheekiness as he works his jaw, wanting you to scream.

"Tell me," you beg, as he starts sucking your clit, pulling you closer and closer to that edge.

"Like Christmas." He grunts, pulling his lips away for a moment before he slides his tongue back up to your quivering entrance to tongue fuck you.

The noise that you make is indescribable, filthy yet so innocent as he starts to thrust his tongue in and out of you. Your finger finds your throbbing clit and you start to rub slow circles into it as he takes you apart with his tongue.

Dave's hand smacks yours, pulling it away. You aren't going to cum from anything you do to your body if you are in bed with him. You wanted him, you're going to get him.

You yelp as he slaps away your hand and he growls into your core. "Dave, please," you beg, over and over, not sure what you're pleading for but needing more.

Instead of chastising you, he gives you what you need. Sliding his tongue out of your dripping, quivering cunt, he moves back down to your clit and pushes two thick fingers inside you to replace his tongue.

The stretch from his fingers makes you sink your teeth into your lip, his are so much thicker than yours and it's almost too much. His tongue laps at you like he's a starved man, and it isn't long before your arms are threatening to give way and your thighs are shaking from the pleasure ripping its way through your body, and you're unable to speak even a single word as pleasure overwhelms you.

Dave hums against your clit, providing that slight vibration against your bundle of nerves as he sucks again. Not able to see your face, he's feeling and hearing your reaction and it's something beautiful and satisfying.

"I think I'm gonn-oohhh," you gasp before cumming hard on his tongue and around his fingers. Squeezing them so tightly it swear you hear him groan. "Fuck."

He isn't greedy right now. He doesn't pull his fingers back and immediately move. Working you through it with slow pumps of his fingers and flicks of his tongue.

"All other men are officially ruined," you breathe out with a giggle, coming down from your high and loving the unexpected soft attention from him as you do so.

He chuckles as he pulls away, straightening and curling his fingers slightly before he pulls them out of your cunt and dragging you up off the bed to offer them to you to taste.

You wonder if he heard you wince as he removed his fingers, not used to the thickness of him. A smile spreads across your face before you take his fingers in your mouth, sucking gently before pulling off with a pop. "I read a story once, where she tasted them mixed together... Can we try that later?"

He hums, smirking slightly as his other hand cups your breast. "You are a curious little slut." He teases, not meaning it negatively. He likes that you are curious. That you want to try all your desires. Pre-cum from his cock smears across your lower back.

"I plan on making the most of my one night with you," you admit, before turning around to face him.

"Interesting." He smirks and squeezes your ass. "Now, do you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes, please." You reply excitedly, "Fuck me, sir."

It's not exactly gentle, the way he pushes you down onto the bed, although he makes sure you are comfortable before he follows. Sliding between your quickly spreading thighs, his hips are cradled by yours and he lays his throbbing cock against your mound as he slowly gives you his weight, letting you feel him spread over you.

"Dave," you moan, as he throbs against your clit. Nerves dancing around in your tummy as you get ready to take your first ever cock, "Please."

"Please what?" He teases again, brushing his lips against yours while he rocks his hips playfully. "You want something, you have to tell me."

"Kiss me," it's not what you were begging for, but the way his lips brushed against yours, has you needing more.

He knows that wasn't what you meant to say, but he chuckles. Giving into your pretty begging, he kisses you and slides his tongue along your lips.

You can't help but moan against his lips, before opening yours and letting his tongue gain entry. Your hand finds its way into his hair and you press him closer, the kiss becoming more frantic as you do so.

He doesn't rush you. Making out like he's not aching to sink into your virgin walls and claim you. His tongue caresses yours and he groans into your mouth.

Your spare hand trails down his back, your fingernails lightly digging in and leaving small scratches and marks wherever they can. "Fuck me, Dave," you beg softly against his lips, before resuming your kiss.

Pulling his hips back slightly, Dave moves his cock with his hand, rubbing it up and down your folds before he presses against your entrance. "With pleasure."

You take a deep breath, ready for him to shove his cock into you, but he's much slower than you're anticipating. Pushing in inch by inch and letting you adjust to the width of him.

Even if his hand was forced, he's not going to make this any harsher than it needs to be. Slowly rocking his hips as he fills you. Keeping his lips on yours as he gathers you closely.

It makes you hiss as he stretches you open, your fingernails digging a little harsher into his skin until he fills you to the hilt.

"Not a virgin anymore." He murmurs against your lips, making sure that he doesn't move while you get used to the feeling of him inside you.

"Thank you," you reply, "You feel so big, Dave."

"I am big." He hums, not boasting but he's got a good sized cock.

"And you’re all mine tonight," you say with a giggle, "You can move. I want you to feel good."

Making a sound of agreement, Dave starts to move Grinding deeper before pulling his hips back to start a slow and steady rhythm. While he wants to wreck you, there is time for that later. He needs you to get used to his cock and enjoy the ride.

You're surprised at how quickly the pleasure drowns out the ache of pain. "Feels so good," you murmur as he slightly increases his pace, searching for that spot inside of you. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

He rolls his hips down, rewarded when you squeal and your walls clench down around his cock. "There it is." He groans with a grin on his face as he makes sure to hit against that spot again and again with every thrust.

You swear that you can see stars as he notches against a part of you that you've never been able to reach. Your walls greedily suction around him as he pulls out your pleasure with ease. "Tell me how I feel," you beg, needing to hear how good you're making him feel.

"Tightest little cock sleeve I've ever been in." He groans, being purposefully filthy and moaning in your ear. "So goddamn hot and tight around me." He hisses when you clench down around him in response to his filthy words. "Gonna fuck you all night, just leave you on my cock."

"Please," you gasp out at his words, camping down around him as he notches against paradise. "Fill me up, make this pussy yours."

"Gonna." He grits out, clenching his teeth together and snarling when you wrap your legs around his waist. His next thrust is harsher than he meant, unable to hold back as he surges forward and fills you with his cock.

You cry out as he snaps his hips, and he immediately covers your mouth with his. Gripping onto to you as he rocks his hips, fucking into that spot whilst possessively claiming your lips.

He keeps his thrusts sharper, enjoying the way that you respond and clench around him. Loving how your nails scratch down his back and mark him up for Carol to see. He groans into your mouth and reaches down to hitch your leg higher on his hip, wanting to get even deeper.

You feel yourself teetering on the edge, seconds away from falling over. The sound of him grunting your name sends you flying, white hot pleasure ripping through you as you scream his name, your cunt clamps down hard around his throbbing cock before flooding around him.

He hadn't expected you to cum so quickly but he groans, rocking you through it with the same pace that had worked you up to your orgasm. Watching as you thrash under him and feeling the small catch in his throat when you whimper his name after screaming it.

"Fuck," you choke out, as he continues to chase his high. Your pussy still fluttering around his throbbing cock as you come down from your high. "You're incredible," you murmur against his lips, "So fucking incredible."

"You're incredible." He grunts, knowing that you want reassurance that you are good. "Gonna make me cum if I'm not careful."

"I want you to cum," you say, bumping your nose against his,

"Fuck, I want to feel you dripping from me.

You are filthy and he loves that. Twitching inside you as he chuckles. "Then you'll drip me while I recover." He promises, quickening his pace to one that he wanted to fuck you at.

He punches the air from your lungs as he chases his high, fucking you into the mattress as you bite down onto his shoulders uncaring about the marks you'll leave. You want to tell him that he feels better than you imagined, how all the books and videos on Bellessa House didn't prepare you for just how incredible it all feels.

Dave's hands run down your thighs, pulling them up more as he snaps his hips down, fucking furiously into you.Wanting to fuck away the traitorous thoughts in his head. He grunts. "Fuck. Shit-you- tight."

The pace is dizzying, the pleasure accompanied by a little twang of pain making your head spin. Opening your eyes you concentrate on his face, his pupils blown wide with lust as he grunts over and over, his pace getting a little sloppier with every thrust as he nears his high.

He feels his body starting to tighten. Balls pulling up against his body and he hisses out a curse as his hips stutter. "Fuck." Thrusting twice more, he grinds his cock deep and moans your name as he paints your walls with hot spurts of cum, emptying himself into you.

You moan louder with every spurt of cum that he fills you up with, never wanting to lose this feeling of being caught beneath him. "That was incredible," you murmur after a few moments of panting and catching breaths. "Thank you."

He hums and looks down at you with a small smirk. "You're welcomed?" He asks. "Maybe I should be thanking you."

"No," you say with a little shake of your head, "That was perfect. Better than I had ever imagined. How are you feeling?" You ask as he hooks your leg around his hip and lays down next to you, keeping his cock nestled inside.

He snorts, rolling his eyes at your question. "I just took your virginity." He reminds you. "I should be asking you how you feel." You shrug slightly and he sighs. "Surprisingly good for being the first time l've cheated on my wife." He tells you.

"Do you regret it?" You ask, stroking his face and trying to ignore the way it stung a little as he rolled his eyes at you. "Are you happy you came?"

"I don't regret it." He promises, leaning into your touch. "And I am happy that I came. Pun completely intended." He jokes.

"Good," you say with a smile, your fingertips rubbing the softest circles into his face. "I'm really happy that you came, I see how stressed you've been... And I just feel the need to take some of that away from you."

"You see that I'm stressed?" His brow furrows in surprise, sure that he had carried the stress well. At least Carol had not asked about it in a long time.

"You carry it on your shoulders," you say, before pressing a light kiss to the tip of his nose. "And in your eyes."

"Why would you care?" He seriously doesn't understand why you would want to ease his stress.

You immediately notice the change in him, and you worry you've overstepped. "You just work so hard... I'm sorry."

"No." Dave reaches for your hand when you pull it back, keeping it on his face. "I don't mean it like that." He explains. "I just don't know why you would care about me."

"Why not? You work so hard to look after your family." You resume drawing the little circles on his face with your fingertips, "I'm not saying I didn't want to do this for selfish reasons, but really I just wanted to give you some relief."

It's quite possibly the most touching thing that someone has done for him in a long time. Despite the headache he got from Carol, he feels relaxed. He hums and rolls onto his back, pulling you on top of him. "Then you need to keep relieving me tonight." He grunts, eyes closed and a hint of a smile on his face.

"However you need," you say with a giggle, before bending over and recapturing his lips with a bruising kiss.

"Are you okay?" He asks softly, wanting to make sure that he hadn't hurt you.

"I'm really fucking good," you say, before nudging your nose against his. "Better than I have been in a long time."

"Good." He accepts that, sighing softly as he wonders what the fuck will happen now. He's enjoying being here with you. Liking how you are soft and sweet with him.

"Do you wanna order room service, baby?" You ask, loving the way he pulls you even closer. "See if I can make you cum again before it arrives?"

"What do you want to eat?" He asks. "Might be harder for you to make me cum the second time around."

"I'm up for a challenge, and mhmmm... breakfast sounds good."

"Are you one that can eat breakfast anytime?" He asks with a chuckle, thinking of all the times Alice demands pancakes for dinner.

"I could eat you anytime," you giggle, "But yes. IHOP is my idea of a romantic date."

He snorts and shakes his head. "So I shouldn't tell you that I make better pancakes, hmmm?"

"Not unless you're planning on making me some," you murmur against his lips, "Order food, baby."

"You have to move off me." He reminds you in a teasing tone as he squeezes your hips.

"Hurry," you say, before moving off him and shooting him an exaggerated pout. "Extra maple syrup."

The menu is by the phone on the desk across from the bed.

Striding over to it nude, Dave is very aware of your eyes on him as he picks up the receiver and connects to the kitchen to place the order.

Your eyes roam up and down his body, taking in every delicious inch. He's gorgeous. Broad and begging to be touched... tasted.

He orders you pancakes, extra maple syrup with eggs and a mimosa. A steak for himself, with eggs and toast to keep with the breakfast theme. Turning back towards you as he finishes up the order. "Anything else?"

"Just you," you say with a smirk.

Rolling his eyes, he pulls the phone back up to his mouth.

"That's it. Thanks." Hanging up, he watches you watch him for a moment, finding the fascination in your eyes slightly thrilling.

"Come here," you tell him softly.

He could resist, probably should reestablish the power dynamic but he finds that he doesn't want to. Humming quietly, he walks towards you, keeping his eyes on you.

"Kiss me, Dave York, and then tell me what you want me to do to you."

You are an intoxicating mixture of submissive and demanding, making it hard to judge what will come out of your mouth. "If you want me to fuck you again, you better suck my cock."

The moment he's laying down, you're crawling down the bed and positioning yourself between his legs. He's half hard and you feel your core get wetter at the thought of him hardening in your mouth. "With pleasure."

Eagerly, you take his cock into your mouth, making him groan before you pull off of him. He grunts, but is satisfied when you lick up the length of him. "Fuck. Greedy little thing, aren't you?" He huffs happily.

You hum happily around his length, gently sucking his cock and loving how it feels as he gets harder and harder in your mouth.

Dave reaches down, his hand smoothing over your hand and around to your jaw. Feeling it open and work as you bob up and down on his cock. "Does it turn you on?"

You nod yes, too greedy to pull off to speak. This is the only night you get him and you refuse to let a moment go to waste. You hollow your cheeks like you've seen in porn and moan in pleasure around him.

"Less suction." He urges you, smirking down at your wide eyes.

"Don't suck my soul out. I don't have one."

You pull off him and shake your head, "Yes you do. No one loves their kids the way you love those girls without a soul, Dave."

"They are my kids." He tells you. "Of course I love them."

"You have a soul, Dave," you say again softly, before taking him back in your mouth. He's fully hard and you're on a race against the clock to get him to cum again before food arrives. You swallow over and over as you take him as deep as you can, trying hard not to gag as you start bobbing up and down.

He watches, groaning when he's bucking his hips up slightly.

"Good girl." He moans your name quietly, feeling his body responding to your eager mouth.

You gently stroke the parts of him you can't fit into your mouth, wanting him to flood your mouth with his cum, needing to make this moment just about him. You double down on your efforts while remaining conscious that you've only done this once before earlier this evening. The groans he rewards you with spurring you on as his hips start to rock in and out of your greedy little mouth.

"Do you want me to cum in your mouth?" Dave grunts, wondering if you want him to fill your pussy again or mouth this time.

The smile that spreads across your face even with your mouth stuffed full of his cock makes him chuckle. You gently nod, not wanting to hurt him, still bobbing up and down. The ache between your legs growing stronger and stronger with every passing second.

His groan of your name is strained, nearly unheard as it's forced from his throat with all the air in his lungs. His body tensing up and his balls pulling tight against his body for the second time tonight.

You hum in delight as he starts to spill down your throat, one of his hands holding your head still as he rocks his hips.

The salty tang of him is addictive and you hope it's not the only time time he'll finish in your mouth tonight. You swallow as much as you can, feeling some slip from the corner of your lips and he fills you up. Each one of his thrusts coming with a raspy groan of pleasure.

You gently pull off him as he hisses from the overstimulation, making eye contact, you gather up the cum that's dripping down your chin and neck and bring it up to your lips, being sure to swallow every drop. "You taste delicious, Mr York."

The knock at the door interrupts you both and Dave springs up. Reaching for his boxers as he looks back at you. "Get under the covers."

"Yes sir," you say with a little giggle, loving how possessive he is.

Dave opens the door, sure that it's not Carol coming to scream at you, he had not let her know where he was taking you. The waiter nods and he backs up to allow him to bring the tray in. "On the table is fine." He tells him, looking at where you're peeking out over the covers.

You avoid eye contact with the waiter, focusing on watching Dave. Your eyes scanning his broad shoulders and feeling yourself grow more desperate to feel him again. You whisper a soft 'thank you' to the waiter as he puts the tray down and makes his way back towards the door.

Only after the lock is flipped again does Dave start to chuckle. "That man wanted to see you so bad, I thought he was going to strain his eyes."

You whip off the covers and raise an eyebrow, "Do you wanna call him back?" You tease as he shakes his head.

"Think I'll keep you to myself." He decides, motioning you over. "Come eat. Don't get dressed."

"Please do," you say as you slide off the bed and stroll over to him. Unashamed of your nakedness in front of him, because you feel so at ease. "I'm starved."

"Good." He winks and starts to pull the covers off the dishes. "If you spill syrup on yourself, I'll just lick it off you."

"Sounds like you're trying to make me spill it." You take a mouthful of the soft fluffy pancakes and moan in delight,

"Second best thing I've tasted this evening."

"What's the first?" He asks, smirking slightly and finding your flirty, playful humor to be far more enjoyable than he had thought you would be. You always seemed so nervous around him.

"I think you know," you say, before reaching over and stealing a fry from his plate. "How are you feeling?"

"Surprisingly good." Dave tells you, smirking slightly and pushing his plate towards you. "I don't like being forced to do something, so I had thought I would resent tonight. But I have enjoyed myself."

"Did you really feel forced?" You ask, feeling your face drop.

"I wouldn't have said shit, I can't believe I even suggested it;

I think it was because she was being so mean."

"No." He shakes his head, wishing he hadn't said anything to you. Not liking the way your face has fallen and you look upset. "I don't feel forced. You gave me the excuse to touch you."

"Good," you say quietly, biting down on your bottom lip to stop it from quivering. "I-uh, you know you can leave if you want to? I'll sign anything, I’ll do anything, but I think you already know that I'd never do anything that you could get implicated in and get you in trouble."

"I'm not leaving." Dave assures you. "I think we are past signing anything, don't you?"

"Yes," you reply, a small smile briefly lifting your lips upwards, before you dig back into your food.

"Good." He smirks slightly as he watches you eat. You've got a good appetite.

"What do you want to do after this?" You ask, between bites of pancakes. "I could make you cum again. With my hand this time?"

"You are the one who should tell me how this is going to go." He reminds you. "You are the one without the experience. What do you want to do?"

"I want to ride you."

"Then finish your dinner and I'Il let you climb on top."

"You'll tell me what to do?" You ask, a little embarrassed. "I mean I've seen it in porn, but I want you to feel good."

Dave snorts, nearly choking on his drink and looks over at you to see if you are being serious. "Sweetheart, if your pussy is around my dick, I feel good."

"That's it?" You ask, all wide eyed and hopeful. Gently placing the fork down onto your plate.

He nods, watching you preen under the praise. "You could sit on my cock while you eat and I would be happy."

"Right now, sir?" Your voice softly begs, as you stare into those dark brown eyes.

You continuously surprise him. He pushes back from the table and lifts his hips to take off his boxers. "Come sit."

You push your plate across the table before standing up and stepping towards him. "Yes sir." Grateful that you're still slick enough for him to slide in, you slowly lower yourself as he guides his cock towards your entrance. "Fuck. How do you feel thicker like this?"

The angle is better but he's too busy groaning your name to tell you that. Gripping your hips and closing his eyes in bliss.

"Feel good baby?" You ask, with a giggle. Feeling his thighs tighten beneath you as you clench around him.

"Feels good." Dave breathes out. "How does it feel for you?"

He asks, sliding his hands up to explore your body shamelessly as you sit on his throbbing cock.

"Incredible." Shamelessly you lean your head back and rest it on his shoulder, loving the way his hands feel on you.

"I think we are doing a good job of making the most of this one night," you say before grinding down on him. Clenching as tight as you can around him.

He hisses, jaw clenching at how good it feels. How tight you are gripping him. "Gonna make sure you remember this." He grunts.

"Fuck," you groan, as you rock your hips. His grip on you getting tighter as you rest your head back on his shoulder. "I know you are."

His hand possessively comes back around the front of your waist and holds you tight. Fusing you to him as he snaps his hips hard and fast to see your reaction in his sudden change of pace. Loving the innocent yet filthy moan of his name that he steals from your throat.

Dave digs his fingers into your waist, wanting to leave tender marks for you to remember him by. Bruises that you can press and remember how he had held you, fucked you. "Another moan." He demands, driving his hips up again. "More."

You give into his demand so easily, letting the room fill with the sounds of your pleasure. You push down and meet each thrust of his hips with your own, feeling pleasure course through your body, making your eyes roll back and your clit throb.

This has been to get back at Carol, to give you what you want to shut you up, but right now, this is for him. Watching you start to cum is his own personal little pleasure.

Knowing that he is making your eyes roll back is a thrill.

"Dave," you mumble softly, feeling the coil inside of you threaten to snap and throw you over that edge as he fucks up into you. "Please." You start to beg over and over as it starts to feel all too much but not enough at once.

He hums, continuing to rock up into you at a harsh pace.

Wondering what you are asking him. For him to cum, for him to make you cum again. He hisses out your name and drags you down for a kiss.

His lips are possessive and rough but you love it. His hand grips your jaw as he kisses you hard while continuing to grind his hips.

You murmur his name softly against his plush lips, before interlacing your fingers with his and bringing his hand up to your breast. "Make me yours."

He follows your lead, groping your breast and tangling his tongue against yours again. Taking control and wrapping his other arm around you and lifting you up onto the table, scattering the dishes.

"Tell me what you need," you murmur against his lips, as he tightens the grip he has on you and as you wrap legs around his waist.

Dave shoots to his feet, crowding over you. "Let me-" he grabs your thighs and pulls them up onto your waist. "Hang on."

"Yes sir," you say with a little giggle. "What are we doing?"

You watch his face, as he stares down at you, clearly enjoying the view. The urge to reach up and gently brush his cheek becomes overwhelming but you figure that may be overstepping a line, so you wait patiently for him to make his next move.

He stares for a few moments, rolling his jaw a few times before letting himself go."Tight little pussy," he growls quietly, before cupping your cunt and swiftly moving his hand up to your chest. "Perfect tits." He squeezes your breast roughly for a few moments and quickly let's go so he can grip your trembling jaw.

"Enthusiastic little mouth, you're being absolutely perfect for me... aren't you? Are you trying to make it difficult for me? Make it impossible to keep you for just one night?" You blink up at him, all doe eyed and innocent, staying completely still and silent as his hands roam your body.

Mumbling filth and praises and reminding you that no else has ever touched you how he's touching you right now, no one else has ever buried themselves deep in your perfect cunt and tasted your cum.

"I was furious," Dave admits after a few moments of silence, with a shake of his head. “Another careless mess she left me to clear up. But fuck, this time I might thank her when I get home." He tucks his thumb underneath your jaw and tilts your head up a little, before smashing his lips against yours. The kiss is quick, but it's consuming, the kind that makes you curl your toes and gasp for air... the kind that leaves your body begging for more. "I don't think I've felt this relaxed in years, or this happy."

"Dave," you breathe out and he immediately shushes you and presses another kiss to your lips.

"Will you let me show you how thankful I am, baby girl?"

"Yes," you breathe out, the easiest question you've ever had to answer.

You're still comfortably perched on the table, and he takes his seat in front of you again before he spreads your legs and places them over his shoulders.

The view has his cock twitching. Your pretty little pussy glistening with both of your arousal, his cum still slowly dripping from you. The heat of his breath coats your cunt and it sends the most delicious shiver down your spine as he teases what's to come.

"Should I lick this pretty little clit?" He murmurs against your thigh before gently sinking his teeth into it, "Or should I shove my tongue into that pretty little asshole? Watch you squirm as I eat your ass?"

He watches the way your chest starts to heave up and down, loving the innocence sketched across your face. "I'm going to lick your clit, and have you cum on my face and then you're going to taste yourself from my lips." He decides out loud, but not before gently biting your thigh again.

Your innocence is so appealing. Your enthusiasm for him is intoxicating. Dave hasn't felt this good about sex in years, since Alice was born. Definitely not as eager to eat Carol out as he is you.

Every flick of his tongue is calculated, he's taking his time, wanting to watch you come undone slowly and not wanting to rush this. He can tell you're eager for more, and you'll get it, but right now every swipe of his tongue is designed to make you beg for more. He needs to hear it, and the louder you'll be for him, the more he'll give to you.

There's something completely thrilling about taking someone's pleasure and making it his own. Controlling it.

Controlling you through it. It's just as satisfying as pulling a trigger, in some ways more so, because the people he fucks know him.

A soft whimper of his name stumbles from your lips as he methodically licks at your clit, loving every tremble of your thighs and shaky exhale he's pulling from you. "P-please," you beg quietly and wantonly as he picks up his pace a little bit.

Your fingers gently weave through his hair, pulling him closer to you as he flicks and sucks at your clit, groaning in pleasure as you moan his name.

There's something innocent about your face as he works you up. Even as dirty as it is, you still look innocent. Making him more determined to pull you apart.

You can feel that little coil inside of you threatening to snap, as your thighs start to shake uncontrollably. The sound of his groans paired with the expert flick of his tongue making you see stars and moan his name so sweetly.

He growls into your core, as your fingers twist in his hair as everything starts to go dark. Your eyes rolling back into your head as you teeter over that delicious edge.

"Cum," he growls, lips still attached to your clit and you can't deny him. Your thighs tighten around his head as your thrown so deliciously over that edge, your back arching as you press his head closer to your pussy.

Dave groans, changing from sucking on your clit to lapping delicately at your folds. Tasting the sweetness that pours from you as you shake.

You weakly call out his name as your orgasm continues to course throughout you. His mouth is still working its magic, as you tremble beneath him, and your fingers start rubbing soft circles into the back of his head.

"You. Are. Amazing." You say, before erupting in a fit of giggles, fingers gripping on to the edge of the table to steady yourself. "Is it my turn to take care of you?"

He doesn't answer, instead he does exactly what he said he was going to do and presses his lips to yours, letting you taste your arousal straight from his lips. Keeping your mouth pressed to his as he explores your mouth enthusiastically, loving the way he can pull those sweet little moans from you with just his kiss.

"Finish eating baby girl," he says with a wink, "The night is still young and I've not had my fill of you just yet."

You pull yourself up from the table, and take a seat next to his, smiling at the way he immediately pulls your chair closer and you both eat your dessert in a comfortable silence.

"Dave... Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he grunts back, squeezing your thigh slightly.

"Why do you put up with it? I understand you have the girls but everyone knows they worship the ground you walk on." You say with a shaky breath, scared of overstepping a line.

"Baby, you deserve to have someone waiting at home that'll treat you right. That'll show you just how grateful they are for you. How much they love you."

Dave frowns slightly, punching his brow together and he wonders why you care so much, although it's nice that you do. "Carol- she knows the darkest parts of me." He tells you. "Things that would give you nightmares and run away screaming."

"You know the darkest parts of her," you counter back.

"You're clearly working overtime to clear them up. So she can't use dark secrets against you in court." Your hand finds his and you lace your fingers with his, "You waltz into my house and insinuated that you could get rid of every trace of me, Dave, and here I am.. Am I running right now?"

You make a good point and Dave slowly shakes his head. “Why?” He asks quietly. “I’m married, I’m a killer. You should be running. You shouldn’t have given me your virginity.”

“I have no regrets,” you say with a shrug, noticing the change in him. “Maybe there’s something wrong with me.”

“Don’t say that about yourself.” He huffs. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

You move closer to him, and place your hands on his chest. “And there’s nothing wrong with you, Dave.”

He stares at you for a moment and contemplates your point. “And you think I should leave Carol.” He is talking out loud. “I would get less time with my kids and she’d be a bitch about things.”

“You deserve to be happy, and you don’t need to worry about not seeing the girls. Anyone would happily stand up and testify that you’re an incredible father, Dave.” you say with a smile. “And whatever happens, no matter how tough it gets, you can always call me. Anytime you need to talk… or if you need a little stress relief… maybe I could find a way to help with that?”

Dave arches a brow at your suggestion, basically an invitation to continue this if he wanted. “Yeah?” The smug smirk returns. “Liked it that much, huh?” You are far from a slut, but the idea of making you *his* slut is broadly appealing.

“Dave,” you say, before biting down on your lip for a few seconds and then letting go, “I fucking loved it. The things I want you to do to me… I’d let you do anything. You are intoxicating.”

He looks at you for a moment and then chuckles. “You might just be worth it.” He muses, reaching out and cupping your cheek. Patting it lightly and then gripping your chin. His phone starts to buzz in his pants pocket on the floor and he shakes his head when your eyes slide over there to the pile. “Just leave it. Let her stew.” He decides. “She’ll fuck up.” The prediction is an easy one. “She always does.”

“I’d really like you to fuck me again, Mr. York,” you say with a giggle ignoring the buzzing as he instructed, your chin still comfortably nestled in his hand. “Do you think you’ve got another round in you?” You tease as you gently squeeze his cock, loving the way he hisses in response.

“You’re gonna be a brat.” Dave growls. “I can tell. You fuck a girl one time and now she’s addicted.” He’s teasing, known that he’s going to fuck you again as soon as he gets hard. As long as you aren’t sore.

“Are you surprised?” You tease back, “How could I not have gotten addicted, baby? You are delicious. And yes. I’ll be brat if I have to be.” You press your lips to his and gently bite down on his bottom lip. “The things I’m going to beg you to do to me.”

“Like what?” He wants to know how dirty you are, what you want. “What would you beg me to do to you? Darkest little secret.”

You feel your cheeks burn as he stares at you, ready to hear all the filthy thoughts you’ve had about him. “You could tie me up,” you say quietly, “Keep me tied up until you’ve used me for as long as you want. Cover me in your cum.”

“*Nasty*.” He smirks and gives a small chuckle. “I think you would like that, wouldn’t you?” It’s interesting that you would have such filthy dreams when you were just so innocent. His cock twitches and he watches your eyes fall to his groin.

“I want you to use me for your own pleasure,” you say, as you gently rub his cock. “However you want.”

He groans quietly and starts to harden under your touch. “You sore?”

“A little,” you admit, “But nothing I can’t handle.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He admits quietly and sincerely. He’s a dick, and an asshole, but he’s not a sadist.

“I’ll tell you if you need to stop,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I want you.”

“Get on your knees.” He orders. “Show me your cunt.”

“I love how filthy you are,” you giggle, before obeying his command.

"I'm a dirty guy." He admits, reaching out and spreading your cheeks to see all of you.

"And all mine for the night." You say, moaning gently as his fingertips drag through your folds.

The phone buzzes again and he doesn't pay it any attention as he starts to push his fingers inside you. Curling them up to press deep.

You moan his name, nuzzling your face in his neck as he works magic with his fingers. "God. I might not let you leave."

He smirks because he hasn't told you to turn around, but you couldn't resist getting close to him again. "I might not go."

"Seems like i'm not the only one who's got addicted," you tease, between breathy moans.

"Hard to resist when you are so easy." He snorts. "When you're giving it away, why wouldn't I take it?"

"Easy?" You say, pushing his arm away. "Maybe I won't give it away if that's what you think."

"Hey, I was teasing." He frowns, but he drops his hand when you push him away.

"Make it up to me," you say, a smile spreading across your face to let him know you were teasing.

He huffs and shoots you a halfhearted glare. "You're not funny." He grumbles.

"You're sexy when you're grumpy." You say, grabbing his hand and leading it back towards your cunt.

"Brat." He huffs, but his fingers still find their way back inside you. Perhaps pushing a little harder than necessary, but you moan anyway.

"Your brat," you breathe out, as he starts pumping his fingers and finding that magic spot with ease. "Make me cum and then give me your cock."

"How about I give you my cock and make you cum on it?" He challenges, continuing to finger you roughly and he reaches out with his other hand to slap your ass.

"That sounds perfect," you say with a grin, "Do you like knowing that you're the only man to have ever touched me like this?"

"Fuckin' love it." He admits with a low growl.

"The only man I'd let touch me like this," you admit quietly

He doesn't say anything, but he hears you. His touch turns more possessive, commanding on your body as he works you up.

"I'm close," you choke out, as the delicious coil inside of you threatens to snap. "I would let you do anything to me, Dave. Anything.”

“Then cum for me.” Dave orders, slapping your ass again as you clench down on his fingers.

“Yes sir,” you say, before rocking your hips a little, chasing his fingers and your high. Feeling your pussy possessively pull his fingers back in as your walls flutter around them. “Tell me I'm yours.” You beg, wanting to hear him claim you.

“You’re mine.” He groans. “I marked you, claimed you. Mine.”

“All yours, Dave,” you whimper as your orgasm begins to overwhelm you. “Yours.” You cum hard, a steady stream of arousal coating his hand and wrist as you whisper his name before falling forward onto his chest. Your arms wrap around him, holding him gently as your breaths grow less rapid, your clit still pulsating and your cunt dripping as you come down from your high. It's surprising how comfortable you are with him, feeling nothing but content with him seeing you at your most vulnerable. He had said not long before that you should have never given him your virginity, but you disagree and in this moment you know you could never regret a single moment of any of being with him.

"How do you want me?" You ask quietly, cupping your hands around his jaw.

Dave pulls back slightly as he considers your question. His dark eyes narrowing slightly as he starts to realize that you might have done him a very large favor by demanding to spend a night with him. He had grown complacent, used to dealing with Carol's shit. Living in an honestly unhappy marriage because of the girls and because he knows that she would make his life hell. "Permanently." He decides.

"Sounds like you got addicted to this pussy after all," you say with a giggle, before pressing a kiss to his lips.

"It's a good pussy." He snorts, smirking against your lips.

"You wanna sleep? Or do you wanna fuck me again?" You ask, as he wraps his arms around you just a little tighter.

"Sleep," he says, before placing a quick kiss on your lips. "If you're good, I'll wake you up with my cock." He smirks when you whimper and settles down with you in his arms. "Sleep, baby."

"Goodnight, Dave," you mumble softly before falling into the deepest and most comfortable sleep you've had in ages. Feeling warmer and safer than you ever have, nestled up in his arms.

The justification for the way that he rolls you over in your sleep and spreads your legs is simple. The night isn't over.

Neither one of you have left the room and the sun still isn't quite yet peeked over the horizon. Allowing him to fully reason why there's nothing wrong with lining up and pushing inside your tight cunt slowly to watch your eyes start to move under their lids as you start to break free from sleep.

"D-Dave," you stutter incoherently, as he presses against something devastating inside of you. Still fighting sleep as he begins to overwhelm every single one of your senses.

He chuckles mockingly. "You wanted me to wake you up with my cock." His hips slap forward to punctuate his words.

Words refuse to form in your throat, as you let out a stream of pleasured moans and whimpers of his name. He finds that spot with such ease that it knocks the air out of your lungs, you feel your pussy flutter around him as you try to pull him towards you for a kiss.

You're so soft, so warm. Pulling him closer and Dave grunts before he presses his lips to yours. He had woken up harder than a rock and had almost resisted the urge to touch you again, but then your words came back to him. Realizing that you were right.

"Good morning, baby," you say with a giggle, before letting your hand run up and down his spine. Loving the way he starts kissing you between thrusts.

He doesn't answer you, just slides his tongue into your mouth as he pounds into you. Increasing the pace as you wake up.

"Fuck," you garble, as he works you into the mattress. Fucking you harder with each thrust, pulling the filthiest sounds from you as that coil inside of you threatens to snap.

"You gonna cum?" Dave demands through his teeth, breathless from his efforts. "Cream all - fuck - over my cock?"

"Yes!” You call out, your fingernails digging into his warm skin as everything goes dark. Your body starts to convulse beneath him as pleasure pumps throughout you. You hear him telling you to take it all as he keeps the same delicious pace throughout your high.

Dave's never been one to lose himself in sex, but he's completely lost. Unable to think of anything but the clutch of your cunt and your sweet moans. His hips driving forward to hear more.

"Cum," you gasp, as his movements become a little sloppier, moaning as you're still coming down from your high. "Fill me up."

Dave hisses against your lips, fingers digging into your shoulders and he feels his pace falter. "Fuck."

"You feel so good," you murmur against his lips.

Another thrust before he's grunting, pushing deep and moaning your name against your lips as he floods your cunt with ropes of cum. Feeling more relaxed than ever before when he's done and slumping down into your arms.

"You good?" You giggle, as you wrap your arms around him.

"Great." Dave sighs as he tucks his head into your shoulder for a moment more. "Just great."

You glance over at the clock and see it's still early, and decide to hold him a little tighter, letting you both fall into another sleep. Not ready for when he'll pull himself away later that morning.

Dave had fallen asleep inside you. When he wakes up again, he can't believe that he actually fell asleep inside you.

Pulling away slowly so he can slip out of the bed and shower, frowning slightly as he thinks about the night and the entire situation while he cleans up.

You wake to the sound of the shower, feeling a twinge of disappointment he snuck out of bed without waking you.

You stay glued to the spot, nestled up comfortably and listen to the sound of the water. The urge to join him grows stronger but you don't act on it, figuring he would have invited you to shower with him it that's what he had wanted.

You wonder if you should start gathering up your things, but you don't, instead you pull the pillow he had slept on closer to you and snuggle into it. Inhaling his scent and letting yourself enjoy the memories from the night before.

Dave showers methodically, like he would if he were coming back from an op. Stripping his skin down to leave no trace of evidence on it, although the same cannot be said this time about his heart or mind. Stepping out and wrapping a towel around his waist, he's already made the decision that he had been thinking about. Opening the door to find you wrapped around his pillow and smirking as he leans against the frame.

"Good morning," you say quietly, as you look over at him.

Admiring how good he looks as droplets of water drip down his chest.

"How are you feeling?"

"Surprisingly pretty good." Dave admits, looking a little confounded by that. "I normally never sleep well, but I slept through until I was getting up to take a shower."

"Good," you say with a small smile, not letting up on snuggling the pillow. "I guess I should shower now as well. Before we go back to our regular lives."

Dave shrugs slightly but you don't see it. "Think you might be tipping off the police who caused the damage." He comments.

"No. I promised," you say, panic rising in your voice, "You don't trust me?"

He watches you shoot up off the pillow, your eyes frantic.

"Fine." He shrugs again. "Guess I'll tip them off, then."

"What are you talking about, Dave?" You say, as you pick his shirt up and pull it on, before rounding the bed towards him.

"Decided I'm not going to let Carol keep getting away with shit." He had thought about it in the shower and decided it was the right thing to do.

You place one hand on his chest and the other on his cheek, studying his face for a few seconds before realizing that he's officially done with cleaning up messes that aren't his own. "I can do it. I can talk to them. Request it's anonymous, you don’t need to be the one making the report."

"Good." Dave nods. "The car hasn't been fixed yet, they should be able to get all the evidence they need off it."

You gently rub your thumb back and forth against his cheek before nodding, "Whatever you want me to say, I'll do it. I'll help however I can."

"Just tell the truth." He smirks at you. "But leave out the part where you fucked her husband."

"That's my favourite party of the story though," you say with a giggle, before pressing a kiss to his lips. "Guess I'll have to keep it to myself."

"You can tell me later on, once the dust has settled." Dave snorts. "There's plenty of evidence of other misdeeds that will be found."

"Sounds like you'll have a lot of stress that you'll somehow need to work out, Mr. York."

He snorts, smirking at you and tilts his head. "Stressful job, stressful life, about to be a single parent." He chuckles.

"Hope your little pussy is ready to be pounded every night while I work out that 'stress'.”

"Ready and wanting." You say before smashing your lips against his and wrapping your arms around him. "Anytime you need me."

[3 months later]

A smile stretches across your face as he crawls up from the bottom of the bed, his cock hanging hard and heavy between his legs as he pushes yours open.

With a possessive growl and he calls you his before slipping inside of you in one fluid motion, capturing your lips as he fills you to the hilt.

It had been a new start for you both, and you couldn't be happier that you started it together, with the girls.

Who'd have thought that witnessing that little wreck would have been the best thing that had ever happened to you?

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal characters #Dave York #David York #Dave York x you #Dave York x Reader #Dave York x F! Reader #dave york x female reader #Dave York x OFC #Dave York Smut #Dave York Imagine #Dave York x original female character #Dave York x Yn #The Equalizer 2 #The Equalizer fanfiction #My fanfiction #my fanfic #i love dave york yall #absurdthirst

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vivwritesfics · 11 months ago

Text

No Need To Ask - CS55

Chapter Thirteen - The New Norris

The Norris' were a notorious crime family in the UK. One of many. With Norris, the head of the family, running operations with his son, Lando, they work to keep Y/N Norris, Norris' daughter protected. Life in a crime family wasn't something they wanted for her.

But with tension with one of the Spanish crime families rise, Norris and his now deceased wife come up with only one plan, offer their daughter to the Sainz's or risk an all out war.

Big things to come

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Carlos’s pawn was the first to go. He sat back in his chair, waiting for Y/N to ask her question. The pawn was clutched tightly in her fist as she sucked in a deep breath. “What do you want from me?” She asked him as she stared deep into his brown eyes. They were gorgeous, but they were deadly.

Carlos lot a lazy smirk crosses his face. His shirt was unbuttoned, his sleeves rolled up. You’ve never guess that he was in England for a funeral. “I don’t want some sweet wife that I can easily scare and manipulate,” he answered.

Y/N glared. “That wasn’t what I asked.”

“Try again next time,” he said and began moving his pieces.

They went several goes without anybody stealing a piece. At last, Y/N had his knight in her possession. This question was a bit easier, more direct, and designed to rile him up. “So, you can cheat on me. But what if I was to sleep with another man?”

“You mean that little Australian rat?”

“Just answer the question, Carlos.”

Carlos cleared his throat, but his features remained cool and calm. “Simple. I would have him killed. And maybe you, as well.”

“You’d have me killed?”

“That’s what I said.”

Suddenly Y/N knew what she had to do, knew how she was going to get power over him.

They continued playing, Y/N’s game maybe not as good as it could have been, since she was concentrating on other things. Carlos stole one of her pawns. They hadn’t discussed what he was to get if he stole a piece, but Y/N had just guessed questions, the same as her.

“Do you want to be my wife?”

It sounded like a proposal, but it wasn’t. And it scared Y/N. If she answered wrong would he be rid of her? Toss her to the side like a used rag? But, if she said yes, he would know she was lying. She’d done nothing but cry since she’d arrived in Spain.

“No,” she answered honestly, heart beating erratically. “But I want to. I want to want to be your wife.” And that was the gods honest truth.

As the game continued, so did the questions. Y/N was winning, and therefore she got her questions answered. Sometimes Carlos wouldn’t answer directly, leaving her to try ago, but, by the end of the game, she found out all she needed to know. She knew exactly what she needed to do to force his respect.

Because it wasn’t something she had to earn, she wasn’t going to strive for respect from this monster. She was going to command it.

On their last day in England, Carlos had the meeting with the other heads of family. Y/N spent those last few hours wondering the halls of the house she once called him. it still felt more like home than the building she shared with her husband. She spent time in her bedroom, where her possessions still were. Lando would probably keep it that way, waiting for the day she finally came home. Even if that day was never to come.

It was strange being in that room now. So much had changed since the last time she was there. She looked through her wardrobe, picking out some outfits to take back to Spain. Packed away some black heeled boots and made her way down to the library, to try and get into her mothers desk one last time.

This time, she didn’t care if she destroyed it to get its secrets. Lando wouldn’t care, either.

So, while Lando was being announced as the new head of family, Y/N was using whatever she could find to get into her mother’s desk. She started with a screwdriver to pull apart the drawers. When that didn’t work, she moved onto smashing the entire thing apart.

The desk didn’t hold secrets, as Y/N thought it would. One drawer was full of pictures of Y/N, Lando and their father. The few normal moments they had as a family. Christmas morning and their summers getaways. They were cute, good memories, but they weren’t what Y/N was looking for. So, she kept searching.

There was one other thing Y/N’s mother kept in her desk. A manila folder that was covered in dust. Brushing off the dust, she opened the folder and pulled out a piece of paper.

An agreement. The agreement of Y/N’s hand for Carlos. She read down it, through the details, what each family would gain from this. Her mothers signature sat at the bottom of the paper, along with her fathers and Sainz’s signature. And then there was the date.

Seven years ago. This paper was signed seven years ago. The agreement was put into place seven years ago. Her fate had been decided for her seven years ago.

She tore it up. There was no telling what the consequences would be, but she did it anyway. It had been sitting in this desk for the last five years, anyway, who but her would know if she destroyed it?

Y/N picked herself up. Rage like no other bubbled up inside of her. For the first time ever, she couldn’t wait to get back to Spain.

She waited in the living room for Carlos and Lando to return from their meeting with the heads of family. Carlos already had their bags ready to go, in the corner of the room. She sat on the couch, playing with Lando’s cat. Well, he used to be their cat, but not since Y/N moved to Spain.

“Oh Suki,” she mumbled as he held him up above her, his little front legs stretched out. “I’d take you with me but you’d hate the heat.”

Suki let out a little noise and Y/N let him down, pulling him into her chest. He sat there, rather unhappy, but the ragdoll cat let her hold him close. He didn’t purr, but he didn’t try and wiggle out of her grasp, either. “Thank you, Suk,” she whispered and kissed the top of his head.

The door opened and Y/N let go of the cat, letting him run off to explore. She herself stood and brushed off her skirt, smoothing it down. The outfit of today was a black skirt with a loose, white blouse. She had cute black boots with white socks that just about peaked over the top. It was cute.

She barely got any time to say goodbye to Lando. As much as Y/N wanted to wrap her arms around him, to ask him how the meeting went, ask if anything was different now that he was Norris.

But Carlos didn’t give her much of a choice. He let her say a quick goodbye, let her throw her arms around him, but then they had to go. Y/N would have fought back, but this wasn’t Carlos’s thought. This wasn’t because he wanted to be nasty that they had to leave as soon as possible. Carlos had obligations in Spain he had to attend to, meaning they had to leave the minute the meeting was over.

During the plane ride back to Spain, Y/N sat where she wanted to. Carlos sat opposite her, and Y/N didn’t move away. She watched the clouds coming past as she sipped her drink.

Nothing much happened on the plane journey, and I won’t bore you with the details of the car journey back to the house. Y/N and Carlos didn’t speak. It wasn’t uncomfortable, they just didn’t need to.

That night they slept in separate beds. That was to be expected. Yes, Y/N had stood up to him, but not that much had changed.

It wasn’t until the next day that she stepped up her game. Y/N strode up to Carlos’s office door and knocked. She went to knock, but, as with every time she had tried before, his men stopped her. But Y/N wouldn’t let that happen “I am his wife and I will go where I like,” she said and knocked once again on the office door.

She didn’t wait for a reply before she pushed into his office. He could have been fucking anybody, and Y/N wasn’t going to care. But he wasn’t. Carlos was simply doing paperwork when she walked in.

She strode over, body filled with confidence, and leaned against his desk, looking at her husband. “I want to go shopping,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Go on, then,” Carlos answered and grabbed a notepad from his desk drawer, making a note of something.

Y/N leaned in closer. “I want to go shopping, Carlos. That means I need money and permission.”

Carlos put down his pen. He looked at his wife and pulled his wallet from his pocket. “Miguel!” He shouted and one of the men guarding the door ran into the office. He stood, staring at his boss as he waited for his command. “You are to take my pretty little wife shopping,” he said and Miguel nodded.

They had an exchange in Spanish; Y/N only just managed to pick out a couple of words.

So, Miguel took Y/N shopping. He didn’t speak to her, just watching over her as she picked out different dresses. Most were black, some short, some longer. Y/N picked out some shoes to go with them. They were elegant, expensive dresses that she was going to use for every day wear. Carlos’s card paid for everything. Y/N didn’t care for the price tags as the filled Miguels arms with bags.

When she was satisfied with the success of her shopping trip, Miguel drove her back to the house. She headed straight to her room, putting away her new dresses and shoes. And then she got changed into one of them, the one she deemed to be the sexiest. That was what she wore to give Carlos back his card.

When she walked into the office, his jaw was on the floor.

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cherryl4na · 5 months ago

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ `"lamborghini miura and date nights pt. 1"

abstract || you and lando enjoy life outside of all the chaos that comes with him being 'The Ace'

fem!reader || fluff. steamy. mafia au. lamborghini miura. will be a pt. 2. heavily inspired by the suit at a mclaren event and the outfit at cannes. 3.6k words

Lando Norris’ penthouse is the epitome of luxury and power, a sanctuary high above the city’s restless heartbeat. The expansive living space is a testament to modern elegance, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the skyline, the city lights twinkling like distant stars.

When stepping out of the private elevator, you’re greeted by a foyer with polished marble floors, leading into an open-concept living area. The décor is a blend of classic and contemporary, with rich, dark wood paneling and sleek, minimalist furniture. A grand piano sits in one corner, its black lacquer finish reflecting the soft glow of the overhead designer lighting.

The lounge area is dominated by a large, plush sofa that faces a state-of-the-art entertainment system, and a glass coffee table holds an array of high-end spirits and crystal decanters. Original artworks adorn the walls, and a collection of rare books fills the built-in shelves, revealing Lando’s taste for the finer things in life.

The dining area features a long, ebony dining table surrounded by leather-upholstered chairs, perfect for hosting intimate gatherings or conducting discreet business meetings. Adjacent to it is a gourmet kitchen, fitted with professional-grade appliances and a sleek breakfast bar.

The penthouse also boasts a private gym, a spa-like bathroom with a Jacuzzi and a rain shower, and a walk-in wardrobe that houses an impressive collection of designer suits and racing memorabilia.

Lando’s personal quarters are a sanctuary within a sanctuary. The master bedroom is spacious, with a king-sized bed taking center stage, draped in the finest silk linens. A private balcony extends from the bedroom, offering a secluded spot to take in the breathtaking views or simply enjoy a moment of solitude.

Every detail in Lando’s penthouse speaks of a man who commands respect and enjoys his success, yet values privacy and comfort above all else. It’s a space that’s both a showpiece and a retreat, reflecting the complex character of ‘The Ace’ himself.

As of now, the evening had settled over the city like a velvet shroud, the skyline a jagged silhouette against the twilight sky. Inside the luxurious penthouse, Lando Norris watched you with an intensity that belied his calm exterior.

You stood before the full-length mirror, the soft fabric of your Versace dress cascading down in waves of midnight blue, a stark contrast to the elegance of your skin. The room was filled with the quiet rustle of silk and the subtle scent of vanilla from your perfume. It was a rare occasion, this dance of preparation, and Lando found himself captivated by the ritual.

He leaned casually against the mahogany door frame, arms crossed over his chest covered with a white Nordstrom silk shirt that has been left unbuttoned just slightly to exude enough sensuality but keeping it decent, his two usual gold chains around his thick, tan neck as his eyes followed your every move. There was something about the way you moved, the confidence in your gestures, that drew him in. It was a dance he had seen many perform but none with such genuine disregard for the world’s expectations.

“You don’t have to impress anyone,” Lando finally spoke, his voice a low rumble in the opulent room.

You met his gaze in the mirror, a small smile playing on your lips. “I’m not trying to impress,” you replied, your voice steady. “I’m trying to remember who I am beyond all this,” you gestured vaguely, encompassing the grandeur of the room and, by extension, the life you had found yourself entwined in.

Lando pushed off from the doorframe, his steps silent on the plush carpet as he approached. “And who are you exactly, in this world?” he asked, stopping just a breath away from you.

You turned to face him, the intensity of his gaze compelling you to answer with truth. “Someone who still believes in a bit of normality, even in a world as cynical as ours.”

His chuckle was soft, a sound that warmed you more than any embrace. “Then perhaps this will serve as a reminder,” Lando said, producing a small, black velvet box from his pocket.

He opened it to reveal a delicate gold chain, from which hung a pendant crafted in the shape of a lotus, its petals open as if reaching for the last rays of the sun. “The lotus blooms in the mud,” he murmured, his fingers deft as he clasped the necklace around your neck.

The lotus flower, revered across cultures and spiritual traditions, embodies profound symbolism and meaning. Emerging from muddy waters yet remaining unstained, it symbolizes purity of heart, mind, and spirit. Its ability to bloom immaculately amidst adversity speaks to resilience and strength, teaching us to persevere and flourish despite life's challenges.

It serves as a timeless metaphor for the human experience — a reminder that through adversity, purity, and spiritual growth, we can rise above the murky waters of life and blossom into our fullest potential.

You reached up to touch the pendant, its cool metal a stark contrast to the warmth of his fingers still lingering on your skin. “It’s beautiful,” you whispered, gratitude lacing your words. Lando stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours. “As are you,” he said, not as a compliment, but as a simple statement of fact.

With a smile that matched the warmth of his words, you followed Lando out of his luxurious penthouse. The evening air greeted you with a gentle breeze as you made your way towards the private garage, where a sleek, vintage Lamborghini Miura awaited. Its navy paint gleamed under the soft glow of the penthouse's exterior lights, exuding elegance and power in equal measure.

"You're driving this?" you asked, your voice a mixture of surprise and excitement, a smile slowly inching its way on your face.

Lando nodded, a playful glint in his eyes as he held open the passenger door for you. "Well, how else did you think we’d travel? I figured we could take a little drive before our reservation. Trust me, it'll be an experience you won't forget."

As you move to settle into the plush leather seat, Lando places a hand on your head to make sure it’s protected from the roof of the car. Heading around the car, Lando enters the driver side, and effortlessly starts the engine, causing the powerful rumble to fill the air around you. The car eased out of the garage with grace, navigating the city streets with the familiarity of a seasoned driver. The night enveloped you both, the city lights painting a canvas of twinkling stars overhead.

With each turn and straight away, the Lamborghini carried you through the cityscape, the wind whispering secrets as it tousled your hair. In the midst of this exhilarating journey, Lando's presence beside you remained a constant source of comfort and excitement, his occasional glance your way a silent promise of more adventures to come.

As you ventured further into the night, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the hum of the engine and the shared moments between you and Lando. In the soft glow of passing street lamps, you realized that this impromptu drive wasn't just about the destination—it was about the connection forged in the quiet moments between heartbeats, where each glance and smile spoke volumes about the budding romance in the air.

And as the Lamborghini carried you both towards an unknown horizon, you couldn't help but feel that this night was just the beginning of a journey filled with endless possibilities, where every twist of fate was waiting to be explored together.

With each mile that passed beneath the Lamborghini's wheels, the cityscape transformed into a mesmerizing blur of lights and shadows. Lando navigated the streets with effortless precision, occasionally stealing glances at you, his expression a mix of anticipation and contentment.

As the vibrant pulse of the city gradually gave way to quieter, tree-lined avenues, the Lamborghini slowed to a stop in front of a stately building adorned with ivy-covered walls and softly glowing lanterns. You looked up, realizing you had arrived at a charming and exclusive restaurant known for its exquisite cuisine and intimate ambiance.

Lando turned off the engine, and the sudden silence enveloped you like a comforting embrace. He stepped out of the car, swiftly coming around to open your door with a gentlemanly flourish. As you emerged, the cool evening air wrapped around you, carrying with it the tantalizing aroma of fine dining and the promise of a memorable evening ahead.

The entrance of the restaurant welcomed you with a warm glow from within, casting a soft halo around Lando as he extended his hand, inviting you to walk with him towards the door. You accepted graciously, feeling a flutter of excitement mingled with a touch of nervousness. This evening had already surpassed any expectations you might have had, and yet, you couldn't help but wonder what surprises lay in store.

Inside, the ambiance was elegant yet inviting, with soft music playing in the background and flickering candlelight casting a soft glow over linen-covered tables. The maître d' greeted you warmly, confirming your reservation and guiding you both to a secluded corner table with a breathtaking view of the city skyline.

As you settled into your seats, Lando's gaze met yours across the table, his eyes sparkling with a quiet intensity that mirrored your own emotions. The evening stretched out before you like an uncharted path, each moment unfolding with a delicate grace that seemed to deepen the connection between you.

Conversation flowed effortlessly between bites of exquisitely prepared dishes and sips of fine wine, punctuated by shared laughter and stolen glances that spoke volumes. In the intimate setting of the restaurant, surrounded by the soft murmur of other diners and the gentle hum of city life beyond the windows, it felt as though time had slowed to a perfect cadence, allowing you both to savor every fleeting second together.

And as the night progressed, you found yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions—excitement, attraction, and a growing sense of intimacy that seemed to bloom with each passing moment. Across the table, Lando's smile was a beacon of warmth, his presence a reassuring anchor in the sea of possibility that stretched out before you.

As dessert arrived, accompanied by a flourish of culinary artistry that mirrored the magic of the evening itself, you couldn't help but marvel at how a spontaneous drive in a Lamborghini had led to this moment of shared connection and undeniable chemistry between you and Lando.

The restaurant hummed with a subtle buzz of conversation and the clinking of glasses, yet your attention was solely on the man sitting across from you. Lando, with his easy charm and magnetic presence, had swept you off your feet from the moment you met. His laughter was infectious, his stories captivating, and as the evening progressed, you found yourself drawn deeper into his orbit.

The evening had been filled with unexpected turns—a scenic drive through desert landscapes that stretched endlessly under a starlit sky, conversations that ranged from lighthearted banter to deeper musings about life and dreams. Each moment seemed to unfold effortlessly, as if fate had orchestrated this encounter.

And now, as dessert was served—a masterpiece of flavors and presentation—you felt a surge of anticipation mingled with a hint of nervous excitement. Lando caught your gaze, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of mischief and admiration. Without a word, he reached across the table, his hand finding yours with a gentle yet confident touch.

"Care to dance?" he murmured, his voice low and filled with a magnetic charm that sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn't resist the invitation, nor did you want to. With a smile that matched his own, you nodded, allowing him to lead you onto the small, cleared space between tables where other diners watched with subtle curiosity.

As "Hola Senorita" by GIMS and Maluma began to play softly in the background, Lando pulled you close, his hand firm on your waist as he guided you in a slow, sensual sway to the seductive rhythm of the music. The heat of his body pressed against yours, sending a wave of electricity through every nerve ending.

In that intimate embrace, the world around you faded into a blur, leaving only the two of you moving together in perfect synchronization. His touch was both gentle and possessive, his gaze never leaving yours as if trying to convey a thousand unspoken words.

The sensual dance unfolded like a whispered promise of what could be—an unspoken acknowledgment of the undeniable chemistry that simmered beneath the surface. Each step, each turn spoke volumes of desire and connection, drawing you closer to Lando in ways words could never capture.

As the song neared its end, you found yourself breathless yet exhilarated, caught up in the intensity of the moment shared between you. Lando's lips curved into a tender smile as he guided you back to the table, where dessert awaited—a sweet ending to a night that had begun with a drive and culminated in a dance that resonated with the magic of newfound connection and possibility.

And deep down, beneath the surface of whispered promises and shared glances, you knew that this evening was only the beginning—a prelude to a story waiting to unfold, where each chapter would be written in the tender moments and stolen kisses that danced on the edge of tomorrow.

After settling the bill, not without a bit of banter over who pays, you both stepped out into the cool night air, the echoes of laughter and shared stories still resonating between you. The Lamborghini awaited, a sleek silhouette against the dimly lit street, its engine purring with restrained power.

"Where to now?" you asked, half in jest, half in earnest curiosity.

Lando grinned, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, "Anywhere but here."

With that, you slipped into the passenger seat with his help of course, the leather embracing you with its luxurious warmth. The engine roared to life, the city lights streaking past in a blur as you navigated the winding roads together. The night was young, and so were you, in this ephemeral moment where time seemed to slow down just for the two of you.

Conversation flowed effortlessly, weaving through dreams and aspirations, fears and triumphs, each revelation knitting your souls closer together. It was as if the universe conspired to create this perfect interlude, where nothing existed beyond the confines of the Lamborghini and the burgeoning connection between you.

As the city lights began to fade into the rearview mirror, you found yourselves on a quieter stretch of road, surrounded by a tapestry of stars overhead. The car slowed to a stop, and you both stepped out onto an overlook, the city sprawling below like a sea of twinkling lights.

Lando's eyes held yours, their intensity magnified by the intimacy of the moment. You could feel his heartbeat, steady and reassuring, echoing the rhythm of your own. The night draped around you like a velvet cloak, cocooning you in a world where only the two of you existed.

His hand found yours, fingers intertwining effortlessly as if they had always belonged together. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver of anticipation through you, a silent invitation to let go of any lingering doubts or hesitations.

Leaning closer, his breath mingled with yours, warm against your lips. The air crackled with unspoken words, each heartbeat resonating like a whispered promise of what could be. You could smell the subtle scent of his cologne, a comforting familiarity that grounded you in the present moment.

When his lips finally brushed against yours, it was like a symphony of emotions unfolding in slow motion. Soft yet insistent, his kiss spoke of desire tempered with tenderness, a delicate balance of passion and restraint. Time seemed to stretch and bend around you, the world narrowing down to the sensation of his lips moving against yours, tracing the contours of a connection that defied words.

His arms encircled you, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. The warmth of his embrace cocooned you in a sanctuary of shared vulnerability, where every touch and caress spoke volumes of unspoken longing and mutual understanding.

Under the canopy of stars, the Lamborghini Miura stood sentinel, bearing witness to a moment that transcended the mundane. The engine's purr became a backdrop to the symphony of your shared breaths, the quiet rustle of fabric as you leaned into each other, seeking solace and passion in equal measure.

As the kiss deepened, the world around you faded into insignificance. There was only the taste of him on your lips, the press of his body against yours, and the electric current that surged between you, binding your souls in a dance as ancient as time itself.

In that timeless embrace, you felt a surge of emotion swell within you—love in its purest form, unguarded and unfiltered. It was a declaration whispered in the language of touch and sensation, a silent vow that this connection was worth cherishing, nurturing, and exploring with every fiber of your being.

When you finally pulled apart, breathless and exhilarated, Lando's eyes held a glimmer of unspoken promises yet to be fulfilled. His thumb gently brushed against your cheek, a tender gesture that spoke of reverence and devotion.

In the quiet aftermath, as you stood entwined under the stars, you knew that this night had forever altered the course of your story together. Each heartbeat echoed the cadence of a new beginning, where the chapters ahead would be written in the shared moments of vulnerability, passion, and the unwavering bond forged in the embrace of that unforgettable night.

Feeling the cool metal of the Lamborghini Miura against your back, you smiled as Lando drew you close, his touch tender yet commanding. His fingers traced a delicate path along your jawline, sending a thrill through you that echoed in the warm summer night around you.

His lips met yours in a kiss that was both soft and consuming, a perfect blend of longing and urgency. You leaned into him, feeling the strength of his embrace against the smooth, cool surface of the car's hood beneath you. The night seemed to hold its breath as you lost yourself in the sensation of his lips moving against yours, the mingling of your breaths creating an intimate symphony.

His hands, strong yet gentle, explored your back with a reverence that made your heart race before finally reaching their destination. He grips the back of your plush thighs in a way that makes you feel weak all over. The hood of the car digs into you as he places you gently on it, moving to stand between your legs.

Making this moment as intimate as possible, his veiny hands move to grip your waist and pull you closer till there is absolutely no space between the two of you. Every touch, every caress deepened the connection between you, amplifying the heat that coursed through your veins. Time seemed to stand still as you savored each moment, each kiss a testament to the unspoken desire and passion that burned between you.

In that moment, surrounded by the soft night air and the distant murmur of the city, you were entwined in a dance of intimacy and yearning, where nothing else existed except the electricity of his soft lips against your own, his touch caressing you as if you’re made of glass.

As you both pull away from each other, the air between you thick with unspoken words and the promise of what the future might hold, Lando reaches out to gently stroke your cheek. His touch is warm against your skin, sending shivers down your spine that have nothing to do with the cool night air.

"Let's head back," he murmurs, his voice low and filled with emotion, lips plumped up and red. You nod in agreement, feeling a sense of contentment settling over you like a soft blanket. Together, you gather yourselves and step back towards the waiting Lamborghini Miura.

The drive back to Lando's penthouse is quiet, the purr of the engine providing a soothing soundtrack to your thoughts. You steal glances at each other from time to time, exchanging small smiles that speak volumes about the bond you've forged this evening.

Arriving at the penthouse, Lando parks the car with practiced ease. He takes your hand as you both exit the vehicle, his touch reassuring and grounding. The night feels alive with possibilities as you step into the elevator, riding it up to his luxurious apartment high above the city.

Inside, the penthouse is a sanctuary of modern elegance and comfort. Lando leads you to a balcony overlooking the glittering skyline, where the city lights twinkle like stars in the night sky. He wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you close as you lean against the railing together.

"This night," he begins softly, his voice carrying a hint of wonder, "it feels like everything has changed, but at the same time, hasn’t."

You turn in his arms to face him, your heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his eyes. "It has," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "In the best possible way."

Lando smiles, a smile that reaches his eyes and fills you with warmth. "I'm glad," he says, leaning in to kiss you gently for the third time that night, as if sealing a promise made by the night itself.

And as you stand there, in each other's arms, the Lamborghini Miura waits below like a silent witness to the beginning of your love story — a story that started with a car, a journey, and two hearts finding their way to each other.

an || hey guys! i've had this in the works since early june and finally got around to semi finishing it. this will have a pt 2 and i apologize if it takes a while to come out. hope you enjoyed this and there will be more to come! and to my girls, you know who you are, i hope you loved this.

#f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #f1 drivers x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #lando norris #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff

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