#every occasion jewelry | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gojonanami · 8 months ago

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❝ 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 !! ❞

❝ WHEN YOUR EX HUSBAND FINDS OUT YOU'RE DATING AGAIN, HOW DO YOU END UP FUCKING HIM IN YOUR BED ?? ❞

✧ pairing: ex-husband!satoru gojo x f!reader

✧ summary: satoru gojo is the man everyone wants, except you -- well you married him and you wanted him, but when he pushed you away after you had your daughter, you had no choice but to divorce him. so what happens when he comes to pick up your daughter for his weekend, and he finds you ready for a date? and how is it you always end up under him?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, exes to lovers, modern au! (no curses), gojo is a CEO of a company, gojo has a daughter with you, divorced, some angst, switch! gojo, nipple play, oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), semi public sex (near entryway), semi exhibitionism, sex (p in v), creampie, swearing,

✧ wc: 8,271

“You were supposed to be here at 6:00 PM,”

Satoru Gojo stood in your doorway, as opposed to splashed on the covers of magazines and countless front page articles — you would think it would be business magazines, but you would only be partially correct — he made the covers of business, fashion, health, entertainment, and even a few women’s magazines.

And what every single one had made apparent in their colorful print was that Satoru Gojo was anyone’s ideal man — the CEO of the wildly successful Six Eyes Corp, a philanthropist in his free time spent mentoring children and teenagers through establishing proper programs, and he was flawlessly beautiful — ocean blue eyes you could drown in, porcelain skin seemingly without a blemish or scar, and pretty lips that were a weapon when curled in a smirk.

Just as they were now.

“Well,” he smirks, leaning against your door frame, “I’m sure it’s 6:00 PM somewhere,”

“Well, I’m not concerned with somewhere else since you daughter exists here, not elsewhere,” your words lacked their usual bite, only tinged with annoyance rather than cutting anger, “but good thing I told you to be here an hour and half earlier than I needed you,”

Needed him as just as you did before you had divorced — just as you asked him to be. But he only grew more distant by the day — and soon he was already out the door when you had served him with divorce papers.

And now, you can almost forget how it used to be — your eyes catch sight of the picture on your mantle of the two of you with your daughter, Satoru’s lips pressed to your cheeks as yours were pressed to your little angel — almost.

He gapes at you as you walk inside, as he follows behind you, the click of the door closing overshadowed by the sound of his voice.

“How could you lie to me, sweetheart? Thought we had a bond of trust,” you don’t have to look back at him to know he has a pout on his lips that would quickly melt into a grin if you conceded.

“Bond of trust ended when you showed up two hours late to pick up our daughter,” and he grumbles, cheeks tinged with pink.

“That was one time! I’m never that late. And it’s only on a Fridays when I have—“

“Meetings all day,” you finish with a sigh, “I know, Gojo, I know it’s not on purpose — but I know you’re always late on Fridays so I found a solution,” your lips curl, “anyway, our girl is napping still, so give her a bit before you wake her, but you can stay here until she does,” you’re shrugging off your bathrobe, littered with flecks of makeup, only to have a gorgeous black dress underneath.

One that he very much hadn’t seen before — and he would know, he’s explored every centimeter very intimately of each one of your dresses, but this is new. His eyes skim down the exposed skin of your thighs — very new, but very familiar.

He’s running fingers through his hair, not bothering to hide how his gaze rakes over his body, “Special occasion? Don’t tell me your birthday suddenly moved months, or I forgot our anniversary,”

You scoff, as you pick out earrings from your jewelry box, “Does an anniversary count when you’re divorced?” you can’t hide the hint of bitterness in your voice, and he’s stepping closer as you look in your vanity to put your earrings on, only to meet his gaze in the mirror, deep blue sucking you in as it always does.

“But you’ll always be mine,” and you roll your eyes, expecting a cheeky grin, but find genuine longing in his expression, before it's hidden away behind a frown, “but you still haven’t told me where you’re going, sweetheart,”

A sigh stuck in your throat, ignoring the use of your usual pet name that he had lost the rights when the ink dried on your divorce, as your teeth graze your bottom lip, “I have a date tonight,”

He tilts his head, “A date?” and you can already hear it in his voice — ice creeping over usually still waters, “who’s the lucky guy? And do I get to meet him?”

“And have you scare him off?” And he only grins in reply, hands slipping into his pockets.

“If he’s intimidated by me, isn’t that more on him than me, sweetheart?” His footsteps only grow closer, as you turn to look at him, his hand on the wood of your vanity, nearly caging you in on side, “after all, he may be your date, but I’ll always be your husband, and the father of our daughter,”

You didn’t know whether you wanted to kiss him or slap him — slapping him was self explanatory, but the want to kiss him was a lingering feeling, one that you couldn’t shed — no matter how much time passed. But that was the thing about Satoru Gojo — it was easy to fall in love with him, but even harder to fall out.

And a part of you could never admit to yourself that you never did.

No matter how hard you try.

“You haven’t been my husband for a year and half now, Gojo — a year legally now,”

And he’s changing tactics, “You still haven’t answered my question, who are you going on a date with?” And you already can feel the beginning of a headache throbbing in your forehead, and you know why no one could say no to Satoru Gojo — because you’re sure he’s never understood it.

“Why do you need to know?” And he's tilting his head, a small scoff parting his lips.

“I need to know who you're potentially bringing home, don’t I?” and he’s far too close, and you don’t know why you’re not pulling away — his breath warming your skin, as he drags a finger down your cheek, “The man who might step foot in our home, might meet our daughter,” and his thumb brushes over your lips, “might kiss my wife—“

“Gojo—“

“Satoru,” he corrects you.

You rub at your temples — yup, you definitely have a headache now. You brush past him, heading to the living room to pick up some of the mess, hoping your ex would somehow fall and hit his head on the doorframe and forget this conversation.

“And this dress?” Ah, no such luck, “did you buy it for the date?”

“Do you keep a catalog of my wardrobe?” you scowl as you pick up the strewn about toys and things to collect into your daughter’s toy bin, and he’s bending down too to pick up your daughter’s things in his hundred thousand yen suit.

“So you didn’t deny it,” and you sigh again, but grit your teeth all the same, his sharp words finely grating on your nerves.

“This isn’t a business negotiation, you don’t win just because you use my words against me,” you stand up after picking up the last of the things, “yes it’s a new dress, and yes I bought it for the date since this is my first date in years, happy?”

“Thrilled,” he says flatly, and you know it’s not the end of the discussion, “remember our first date?”

And how could you forget? But you decide to humor him, if only for a break from the interrogation.

“Which one? Because one was a date, and the other—“

He raises an eyebrow, “It was a date too, I asked you out—“

“You asked me to hang out—“

“And we kissed—“

“Only because I told you how I felt first—“ and he smirks again and you know you’ve dug yourself into a hole, cheeks burning at his stupidly smug face, “shut up,”

“And what did you say again?” He slips the things you have in your hands into the toy box, his fingers brushing yours, and his touch is the same as you remember, even the barest brush was enough for your traitorous soul to yearn for more.

“You know what I said,” his lips curl, the same smile he had given you all those years ago that made you fall for him in the first place, but his raise of his brow tells you he’s not going to let it go until you say it, “I told you that I liked you for a long time, and I was tired of waiting for you to make the first move. Because maybe by then it would be too late,” and his fingers brush against your cheek, featherlight — just as the bunches of butterflies that bloom in your stomach.

“And you say that wasn’t a date,” and you scoff, biting back the small smile on your lips, “will any other first date compare to that?”

“Gojo—“

“Satoru,” he corrects, and you know his brow is furrowed without having to look at him, “do you have to call me by my last name—“

“I do, because Satoru was my husband, and Gojo is my ex—“

“I’m still your husband—“ and you give a bitter chuckle.

“In what world? We’re divorced, it’s over,“

“It doesn’t have to be,”

“But it does. This isn’t me confessing to you on a movie night curled up on my twin bed. This is my ex-husband asking me to give him another chance far too late,” you slip past him, but he follows behind anyway, as you stand near the entryway to your home, “it’s time to move on,” and you’re stepping from your bedroom and only reach the doorway when he speaks.

“How can I move on when I never wanted to?” You still yourself in your tracks, fingers curling into a fist.

Not this right now. Not now. “Gojo—“ you sigh.

You’re so tired. You were hoping you wouldn’t have to have this conversation. You never had expected to have this conversation, not when you wanted to only marry one man your entire life was the one to break your heart.

“It's almost two years too late for this conversation,” you willed your voice not to break — not when your heart was long broken by him, and you wouldn’t allow him to do it again, “you should have had it with me before I filed. When I asked you to spend your time with us, when I asked you to take time off, when I asked you to be present in our lives—“

“Sweetheart-“ and you snap.

“Don’t call me that,” your quiet words hang in the silence, the wedding bells he heard in his head were nothing more than the sounds of bells drowning out the mourners screams, “don’t call me that when you don’t get to anymore,”

“I’ll always be yours, sweetheart, a few papers don’t change that,” and he’s stepping towards you, but you’re rooted to your spot, and you want to say it’s stubbornness, but you know what it really is —weakness, because Satoru Gojo was your one and only weakness. And even now, walls raised and erected against him came tumbling down with one touch.

Because he knew exactly where to touch and what to say.

“Do you think any other man could please you the way I can? I know every place, every sound, every inch of you — inside and out,” he’s nearly against your back now, “are you going to let a stranger do that? Let them learn how to please you, but knowing your husband knows how to do it better,”

“Ex-husband,” and he’s leaning down to press a kiss to your bare shoulder, “we shouldn’t—“

“And yet you’re letting me,” his nose brushes against the soft skin of your neck, warm breath sending a shiver down to the tips of your toes, and his words sending a wave of need right to your core, “because you know it’s true,” his hands tentatively brush against your hips and when you don’t resist, he squeezes, drawing a gasp from you, lips curled in a smirk, “more sensitive than usual, Princess? Been too long?”

“I swear to god—“ he’s cutting you off with a bruising kiss, a rubber band snapping back against your skin, and now it’s taut against you, ensnaring you in its grasp. And yet, his kiss is so sweet, affection dripping from the slide of lips to the caress of his fingers against your cheek, and it reminds you of just why you don’t want to let go.

“You don’t have to swear yourself to me, but I’d appreciate it, Princess,” and his mouth reminds you of the reason you (and that you don’t).

“Gojo—“ and he’s placing more kisses along your jaw now.

“Shouldn’t you at least call me Satoru now that we’ve kissed?”

“You’re impossible—“

“And yet I’m here,” his teeth nibbles at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, tongue flicking over the blooming love bite, “almost forgot how sweet you taste,” he’s humming, as he kisses along your shoulder before he toys with the strap of your dress, “almost,” his large palms slide down your body, skimming your bare thighs as he’s pressing you against the walls, “but your skin isn’t what I want to taste,”

You gasp, “we can’t—“ but why were you letting him? Irritation overrode by lust, and he knew the spots to make you bend to him, his hands squeezing your hips, “fuck you,” you wonder if his touch are phantoms engraved against your skin and muscles, forced to repeat the same patterns again and again — and a hand slides back up to cup your cheek.

“That’s what I’m trying to do, sweetheart,” his lips find yours again, his tongue dragging against the seam of your lips, before slipping inside. His hand is lifting your thigh around his waist, as his lips part from your own, eyes raking over your pretty, bitten red lips, “do you know how much I missed you?”

“No, I don’t,” and his smile slips from his lips, as he cups your chin, “Satoru—“

“Even all the days I was gone, there wasn’t a second I didn’t think of you,” you waver a moment at the sadness rippling through his gaze, “I know I wasn’t there—“ his lips press a kiss to your forehead.

“Why weren’t you?”

And that’s when there’s a knock at the door that makes your heads snap over to stare at the door a good four or five feet from you, the shadow of feet visible through the crack at the bottom of the door, and you were sure it was your date.

“Fuck,” you whsiper under your breath, “you have to go—“ your palms pressed flat against his chest, but Satoru doesn’t budge, “please, I have to get the—“

And his hand is slipping up and under your dress, hiking the material higher, “do you really want to go on your date like this, sweetheart?” His fingers graze your soaked panties, a gasp pulled from your lips, lithe fingers rubbing and pinching your clit through the thin fabric, “gonna go see him when you’re this wet?”

“Please—“ and his fingers snap the elastic of your underwear against your skin, drawing a squeal from your mouth, “fuck—“

“Any louder, Princess, and he might hear us,” he’s leaning down to press his forehead to yours, forcing your gaze to meet yours, “but maybe I should let him, let him know who’s the only one who can make you feel this good,” his words only make your cunt flutter, as if your body was in agreement, even if your mind was still in denial, “you’re much more honest down here, Princess, but you always were,”

Another knock as your attention is being tugged only for him to yank it back as his finger slips inside you. You’re burying your face in the crook of his neck to stifle your moans — his fingers were so much longer than yours, reaching places you could only have dreamed of — when you had dreamed of him.

His finger squelches as he fucks you open, walls squeezing around him as your molten insides cling to his touch desperately. Small whines and pants are muffled against your hand as you clamp it over, your phone vibrating uselessly with your date’s messages inside your purse.

“Please, Satoru let me—“ and he’s ripping your underwear, as he’s forcing your dress higher, “I have to tell him—“

“Tell him what?” His eyes are nearly glowing in the dim light of the fluorescents leaking in from the living room, “tell him you’d go on your date with him but you’re too busy being finger fucked by your husband?” And he’s sinking another finger into you, making your head loll back against the wall, “tell him that you’d let him fuck you in our bed, but you’re too busy letting me?”

“Sa-toru—“ you’re biting back your whines, glancing at the door, but he’s forcing your gaze back to him, his thumb pressed against your chin, “just let me—“

And he’s turning you in front of the mirror near the entryway, forcing you to look at yourself — your lips kiss bitten and ruined, your dress hiked up and mussed, and underwear tugged down to your ankles.

“Do you want him to see you like this?” His breath is hot in your ear, a soft murmur that makes your knees nearly buckle, “want him to see you how much of a mess I’ve made you?” His fingers sink into you again, a third finger with the other two. The lewd squelch of your cunt rings in your ears, your eyes catching sight of your own moans and pants in the mirror, your walls squeezing around them, “I’m the only one who gets to see you like this, sweetheart, and now you can watch too,” he’s guiding your gaze back to watch yourself, watching him knuckle deep in your sweet cunt, “gonna make you watch your tight pussy break my fingers,” he spreads his fingers inside you, letting you watch your slice drip down his fingers and wrist and splatter on the floor.

And your head falls back against his shoulder — he’s thrusting into you faster, your walls working deeper and deeper into you — fingers curling against your molten insides, until he’s finding that one spot that has your lips falling open, “I’m so—” your voice is a broken whisper, and he’s pressing a kiss to your jaw, “Please—“

“Cum f’me baby,” his thumb rubs at your clit, and you do, walls clamping down as you cum, his fingers relentless as they fuck you through your orgasm, a wordless moan of his name on your lips. He’s holding you up as he does, your body buckling under the pleasure, blood roaring in your ears that slowly ebbs away, as his fingers slow, and you’re shuddering under his touch, “good girl,” and your walls flutter as he pulls out as if they want him to stay, and he’s tilting your gaze, “watch,” your eyes open reluctantly, a small moan on your lips as you watch him carefully each one of his fingers clean, pink tongue darting out to lick at the trails of your juices that had dripped down his palm and wrist, “still the sweetest thing I’ve had, princess,”

And there’s another knock, as he clicks his tongue, “Doesn’t give up does he?” and he’s pressing a kiss to your neck, “must have really done a number on him and he’s willing to wait this long for you, huh?” he hums, nuzzling the hollow of your throat, “but I can relate. So, should I let him down for you?”

Your eyes fly open, meeting his cheeky gaze with a glare, “Don’t you fucking dare,”

“What? You still want to go out with him? Be my guest, but,” and he’s pulling at your ruined underwear until they rip under his touch, “can’t wear these, can you?” you gape at him as he pockets the ruined panties with a shit eating grin, “for later,” and you’re scoffing, and you hear a call of your name through the door.

And you take a better look at yourself — completely disheveled and marked up along your neck from his kisses and nips, your skin shiny with a sheen of sweat, and your lips obviously bruised and bitten from his treatment.

“Fuck,” you can’t go out like this — it looks as if you’d spent the morning before getting ravished, panic sets in as you hear his voice through the door.

“Want me to send him on his way?” Satoru’s hands curl around your waist, “our angel’s still fast asleep, and that means we can spend some time together—“

“Fuck off,” you hiss, walking over to the door, “Atsuya, I’m sorry I can’t go out today. I’m not feeling well,”

“Eh? Are you okay? Do you need anything?” And Satoru steps forward to speak but you cover his mouth with his hand.

“No, I’m fine, but I have the flu and I’m still contagious, so I don’t want to get you—“ Satoru drags his tongue between your fingers — this fucker, “sick,”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and take care of you?” Satoru’s hands are dragging over your sides, squeezing your far too sensitive hips.

“Hear that?” Satoru’s whispering to you between the gaps of your fingers, “He wants to take care of you. Should you let him? Maybe he could fuck you better in the home we bought together and in the bed we shared,”

“No, I’m fine, really, I-I—“ and Satoru’s sucking at your finger, tongue curling around the digit, and you grit your teeth, “I’m going to rest. I’ll text you later, I’m sorry—“ and you don’t get to hear the rest of what he says, as Satoru’s pulling your hand away, and finding your lips in another kiss.

You hate how good this man is at kissing, his lips and touch must have the ability to leech sense from your brain, and leave lust in its place.

“What’s wrong with you?” you mumble against his lips, as his lips burn a trail of kisses down your jaw, a smirk against your skin.

“Nothing’s wrong with me, except that I love you,” he’s pouting again, “you think that guy could please you the way I could?”

“No, but maybe he would actually be there,” you bite back and his kisses pause, smirk slipping into a frown.

“I know I’ve made mistakes—“

You give a bitter chuckle, “Mistakes? You left us,”

He opens and closes his mouth, “you’re right I did, and I’m sorry,” his words are slow, but so is the anger building inside you, “but I’m asking for a second chance, begging for one more chance—“

You finally turn to face him, and you can only hope the tears welling in your eyes weren’t noticeable, “You don’t get to beg, when I already did,” your voice finally breaks, as your clenched fist shakes, “where were you? After our daughter was born, you were gone. You kept saying you would make time for us, you would be there for us, but you just busier and busier, and the only time I’d see you were the nights you made it home to crawl into bed,”

“I—“

“No, I’m tired, I’m tired of waiting and being upset, I’m so done—“ and he’s pulling you into his arms, and the familiarity of his grasp is nearly enough for your defenses to crumble, but you can’t, “Satoru”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know I did wrong. I know I don’t deserve you or our baby, not after all I did,” he’s murmuring, “but it was never because of you or her,”

Tears spill from your eyes, streaming down your cheeks, “I used to cry, thinking that not only that I wasn’t enough, but your daughter wasn’t enough either—“

“You weren’t the ones that wasn’t enough,” he cuts you off, “I am,” the last words come out a whisper, as he runs fingers through his hair, “I’m the one who wasn’t good enough,”

You stare at him, “What do you mean?”

He’s scrubbing a hand down his face, “I don’t know how to be a husband, much less a father. I didn’t think I even wanted to be either, until I met you,” his voice softens, “and then I wanted it all if it was with you,”

“Satoru—“ and he’s shaking his head.

“I thought I could handle it — but when I saw you two — the two most important people in my life — how much you were counting on me, how much you needed me to not fail — I threw myself into work,” he’s swallowing, “I thought if I could support you both, things would get better. But it only made things worse because I pushed myself away,”

“Why?”

“Because I thought I’d mess it up — I don’t know how to be a father. I didn’t even know I wanted to be a husband until we got married,” and you swallow, “I thought I never would after watching my dad neglect and abuse me and my mom,” you knit your brow together, “and there were so many nights when you were sleeping, I got so frustrated with our angel. She wouldn’t sleep, she screamed for hours, and I just felt like I had failed her. And I would just fail you too,” he scrubbed a hand down his face, “so—“

“So you ran away,” you finish, voice caught in your throat.

He gives a curt nod, “And when you filed, I knew it was coming, but I thought you both would be better off. I thought even if I was miserable, it would be worth it to see you two happy—“

“Satoru, do you think I would be happy without my husband?” Your sigh stuck in your throat as your fingers find his cheek, featherlight, but he crumbles and melts against it, as if he was a statue made to wait for your touch, “you’re nothing like your father. I see you with Satomi, I see how much you love her — you dote on her, you know what she likes — she gets a cut and you’re panicking,” you chuckle as he huffs, a cute blush settling over his cheeks, “and you were a good husband, when you talked to me and didn’t run away,”

“I know,” and the question unspoken hangs in the air, “can I be again? Your husband,” and your instinct is to pull him into your arms, where you wanted him to be, where you always wanted to be, but your instinct is tangled in fear, barbed wire dragging you down and digging into your skin.

“I want you to be,” his eyes light up, hope flicking across his gaze like a comet tail, until it burns out with your next words, “but I’m scared,” you swallow, arms crossed, hoping if you physically hold yourself maybe you could hold yourself together, “I don’t want to get hurt again,”

“I won’t, I promise,” he’s cupping your cheek again, and you find yourself leaning into his touch, “every night I only thought of you and Satomi — there’s no one else that matters,” he’s drawing closer again, it makes you want nothing more than his touch again — it had been too long — too long without him.

And your lips find his again, it’s a chaste kiss at first, a breath shared a centimeter apart, as his eyes find yours, brow furrowed, “We have a lot to talk about,” you murmur, as your lips graze his again, and he’s chasing your lips, “but it’s going to take time,” God, you want to kiss his knowing pout away, as you drag a thumb down his lips, “a lot of making up to me and our angel,” He’s nodding obediently, a complete puppy under your touch, as he shivers as your fingers run through his hair before tugging, “are you ready for that?”

“Yes, baby,” he’s biting his lip, fingers twitching wanting to touch you.

Your lips curl, “Good boy.”

“All that big talk and now look at you, Toru,” Satoru’s white knuckled fingers fisted at the sheets of your shared bed, as your own fingers teased the head of his leaking cock through his boxers, “such a mess for me,”

You kneel at the foot of your bed, settled between his thighs, and though you were on your knees, you were the one who held the power. Fingers tracing the trigger right within your grasp, his cock twitching against your hand.

“Please, sweetheart, fuck,” he’s hissing when your lips lean down to press a kiss to his clothes weeping slit, the wet heat of your mouth seeps through, making him twitch against your touch — a spark of need that burns against his skin and boils his blood underneath with need, “please, don’t tease me,”

“Well that’s not fair,” you hum, as your fingers toy with the elastic of his boxers, snapping the elastic against your skin, sending a shiver up his body along with an ache that reaches his bones — and he wondered how he had let your grip on him grow this deep — and how he had ever let it go when it felt this good, “when you’re being teased I’m supposed to relent, even though you made me cum downstairs in my entryway?”

And he’s swallowing thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing just as anticipatory as the rest of his body, a bow string drawn tight just waiting for you to release it. But you wished to toy with the arrow more.

“I have half a mind to make you clean my cum off the floor with your tongue,” you click your own tongue as a taunt, but that only makes him squirm, “but maybe I’ll spare you since you’re being so good for me,” you’re dragging your fingers down his boxers, freeing his cock— already far too hard, flushed and dripping with precum as it slaps against his stomach, the flared head nearly begging you to touch it, “tell me what you want,” his cock is far too gorgeous, you thought that from the first time you saw it — long and curved, and the veins that ran along it were so pretty— just like the man himself.

And a whimper escapes his lips, “sweetheart, please, touch me—“

“With what?” you thumb his tip lightly, smearing the cum down his shaft, “my fingers? Or my mouth,” and your lips lick the pre that clings to your thumb clean, dragging your thumb down the flat of your tongue.

“Y-Your mouth,” and you’re smiling, your lips curling as his pretty gaze pleads with you, “please,”

“Imagine your subordinates saw you like this, begging your ex-wife to blow you, nearly ready to blow your load already just from fingering me,” your fingers toy with his balls, while you leans down to trace the tip of his tongue up the bottom of his cock, “what do you think they’d say?” And your lips part to let his engorged tip enter, as his head falls back with a groan, the wet and warm mouth, as you start to bob your head up and down his length.

“Fuuuuck, pretty,” and you’re pausing as you wait for a reply to your question, his own tongue tying itself in knots, “think I’m down bad for my wife,” he’s grunting, the words ‘my wife’ and his groans sending white hot arousal to your needy cunt, “think I’d let her fuck me anyway she wants and they would be right, sweets. I’d let you use me,” your tongue is wrapped around his length, as his dick sinks deeper into your mouth, nose brushing against his pubes, his hips held taut as he forces himself not to face fuck you.

And his eyes flutter down to meet yours, only to find your eyes drowning in lust, molten with need that nearly burned him with want, lips sloppy and dripping with a mix of precum and your spit out of the corners of your mouth, and your fingers —buried deep in your cunt as you sucked him off.

Fuck.

With the nasty way you slurped at his length, the noise ringing in his ear as your fingers begin to squeeze and stroke his balls, he wasn’t going to last much longer. His hips bucked against your mouth, and he’s muttering apologies but you let him, moaning as his tip hits the back of your throat.

“I’m close—where—“ and you’re sucking hard, tongue flicking against his slit and when he fucks your mouth once, twice — he’s gone. He’s cumming down your throat, hot spurts of cum painting your lips and mouth, his head falls back, fingers gripping the sheets as his eyes flutter open. And he watches you pull away from his cock, sticky strings of cum and saliva connecting you to his length still, “fuck, sweetheart,” his softening dick already twitching at the sight of you — your pretty tongue darting out to lick his cum from your lips.

“You taste as good as I remember, Toru — always so sweet,” and you’re pulling your own fingers from inside your tight pussy, and he snaps.

You’re on your back on the bed now, flopped down against the mattress as his hand closes around your wrist of the hand that was just inside you. Your words are lodged in your throat but come out a shiver when he brings your soaked fingers to his lips, he kisses each one before sucking and licking them clean.

“Toru—“ and he pulls away from the last finger with a pop, eyes clouded with need, “I—“

“And you say I taste good?” he’s humming, as he leans over you, “wait until you taste yourself, Princess,” and his mouth is insistent on giving you an entire course of your taste on his tongue, mapping out a detailed cartography of very crook and crevice of your mouth, “aren’t you so much sweeter?” He’s pulling away from your bitten red lips, spit connecting your lips still, “and that taste is all mine, just like you, wifey,”

The pet name sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through your veins, stoking the burning need already threatening to consume you both, “Toru—“ and he’s already stripping your dress away, pulled away up and over your head, thrown away like every thought of why this was a bad idea. Your nipples perk in the cool air of your bedroom and under his hot gaze, standing at attention as if they’re begging for his attention. And he’s more than happy to oblige.

His fingers toy with the buds, rolling between your forefinger and thumb, until he’s bending down to take one in his mouth, and you’re arching into his touch, your fingers finding purchase on his shoulders.

“Bet Atsuya would love to see you like this, huh?” He’s switching to the other side, teeth dragging against your nipple to draw a gasp from your lips, “Would love to see you such a mess like this, spread out and needy,” and he’s spreading you with warm palms, his half hard cock brushing against your thigh, “Were you gonna let him fuck you on this bed? Our bed?”

He doesn’t allow you an answer as his fingers spread your dripping walls, “Gonna let him taste you like this?” His lips warm your fluttering pussy, nearly begging for his touch and to swallow you whole, “when I already said this pretty cunt was mine,” he clicks his tongue far too close, making you whine, “g’nna have to answer my question first, Princess,”

“No, I wouldn’t,” and he presses a chaste kiss to your dripping pussy, making you whimper, your walls spasming around nothing, “Toru,”

“Remember when we moved into this home?” his lips are teasing your inner thigh, teeth dragging against your hot skin, “we broke the bed in all night long,” he’s looking up through half lidded eyes, “think he could please you like that? Make you moan his name?”

And you’re growing desperate as his lips draw close to your clit, tongue dragging against it, only to pull away to your thighs again, “no, no, only you, Toru, please—“

“Only I what?” oh you know he’s goading you, but your want is drawn taut like a stringed instrument, tweaking your strings when you’re dying for him to play you — “c’mon sweetheart,”

“Only you make me feel this good — fuck, Toru, I swear to god—“ your head falls back into the pillow as his face buries itself in your cunt, his laugh vibrates against your walls, pleasure rising faster than smoke from a burning building. His fingers dig into your hips as he holds you in place now, settled between your legs.

“You swear to me what?” and you swear his god complex gets worse and worse, and the way you moaned with his head between your legs wasn’t helping, “sorry, Princess, I have my mouth full,” and his tongue as silver as his words were, parting your folds with ease, as his lips slurped at your folds messily.

Fuck, he was too good at it, and he knew it, smirk on his lips as the wet, nasty noises of his mouth wrapped around your cunt and your bordering pornographic moans filled the silence. Pleasure ribboned up your body, mixing with the sharpness of his fingers pressed against your plush thighs to keep you in place.

“Gonna make me cum before I even fuck you, Princess,” and you hear the telltale squelch of his hand around his weeping dick — the shudder of your groan making him moan all the same, “taste so fucking good, never gonna go a night without tasting you again,” he murmurs far too reverently with his tongue dipping back into your folds for more of your juices, “you know how many times I fucked my fist to the thought of eating you out again? Never gonna spend a second without burying myself in this cunt,”

“Toru, I’m close—“ and you are, greedy tongue flitting over your clit, his nose bumping against his folds, and the practiced ease of his touch — he knew just what to do to make you cum. And he did, his mouth closing around your clit, before sucking harshly.

You cum on his face, swallowing your slick with the thrust of a desert weary man, his eagerness apparent on his soaked face, as you finally came down your high. He doesn’t waste a drop, only pulling away with a pop when your orgasm ebbs away, licking his lips clean of your juices.

“Still dripping even after I licked you clean?” He clicks his tongue as he watches your slick soak the sheet, “gonna have to find another way, maybe you need something bigger,” he hums in fake contemplation, “what can we use?”

“I have some sex toys that might do the trick,” and he scoffs, as he kisses up your body, before pressing his hard erection against your thigh.

“Don’t think any toy you have compares to me,” and you’re gasping as he drags the head of his cock against your puffy clit, “nothing can fill you up like I can,” and he groans as he watches your releases mix, “just for that, g’nna make you beg for it,”

“Toru,” you’re whining, but he’s only teasing your entrance with the head of his dick, your walls fluttering, already begging for him to sink into you, but he’s waiting for your mouth to do the same, “please, fuck me, I need you inside—“

He grins, “Well how can I deny my pretty wife when she asks so nicely?” And he’s splitting you open with his thick cock, balls deep with only a thrust of his hips. Your hands are grasping at him for purchase, needing to hold onto him as his cock stretches your walls out. It’s as if you remember him, walls sliding to accommodate him as they always did, but clinging to him desperately, a grunt parting his lips, as if they never wanted him to leave again. And you didn’t.

“So fucking tight, Princess,” he’s groaning in your ear, a swallow roll of his hips drawing a chorus of moans from both of you, “don’t have to break my dick off to keep it — I’ll take you anytime you want,” and he’s pressing your thighs forward, slinging one over his shoulder, as he presses himself even deeper.

A whine leaves the back of your throat, “too deep, Toru,” and his cock twitches inside you at that, “fuck,” and it takes everything in him not to blow his load there and then,

“You love it when I fuck you like this, Princess, or do I have to remind you?” And he does, beginning to piston in and out, the lewd slaps of skin and moans filling the air of your bedroom, “be careful or our daughter might wake from the sounds of her mommy getting fucked,” he clicks his tongue, “maybe we should give her another sibling?” He’s watching the way your cunt eagerly welcomes his cock, sinking in and out with ease, “fuck another baby into you, hm? Would you like that princess?”

“Toru, ngh,” your walls flutter at the thought of a kid, of his seed filling you up, “please—more—“

He gives a chuckle, “I’ll give you everything, sweetheart — fuck you so full that you’ll be dripping with my seed for days,” he’s grunting, legs trembling as his thrusts grow more sloppy as his orgasm begins to build, “fuck, you feel so good for me, “gonna give you another baby, make sure everyone knows you’re mine, my wife—“

“G’nna cum, Toru,” you’re falling back against the mattress, as he bends down to press a messy kiss to your lips, all tongue and teeth, before his fingers reach down to rub at your clit. Your eyes finding his, face flushed a pretty pink, eyes shrouded in a deep lust that was reserved only for you, and as he bucks into you even deeper, he brushes against that spongy spot that has the taut string snapping as you fall apart.

“Cum on my cock, sweetheart,” he’s grunting, as he grazes teeth along your neck before biting. And you cum hard, toes curling as your mouth falls open with only moans of his name on your lips. The way your walls squeeze around him has him only rutting into you harder, deeper, messier — as he watches the ring of cum pool around the base of his cock, fucking you through your orgasm, “g’nna cum—“ and you’re pulling him into another kiss, legs wrapped around him as he falls over the edge with you. Hot cum spills in ropes inside your walls, his hips rolling as he does, if only to fuck his cum deeper inside you.

“Toru, s’good, I—“ you’re incoherent nearly under him, soft kisses pressed along your jaw as you both come down from your highs, cock softening inside you only him to pull out, another groan of your name on his lips when he watches his cum drip from inside you, staining your thighs along with the sheets.

And you whimper when he’s gathering his spilled cum on two fingers only to push it back inside, “can’t let you waste a drop, can we, sweetheart?”

He’s finally pulling away, his other hand cupping your cheek, as he finds your lips in a lazy but far too sweet kiss, “Toru,” you mumble, “I never stopped loving you, because I don’t think I ever could,”

His eyes grow glassy, his fingers finding the back of your neck, “I know nothing I’ll do will make up for what I did — to you and Satomi, but,” he presses his forehead to yours, “if you both let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you,”

And tears burn at the corners of your eyes, “Just stay with us, and promise to never leave — that’s enough,” and your lips brush his, “you’re more than enough for us, Satoru,” and he kisses you again and again and again, nearly climbing on top of you again, when you both hear a tiny gasp from the door.

Your heads both snap over to your baby daughter leaning against the door, badly hidden behind it, as she pokes her head in, “did mommy and daddy make up?”

Your cheeks burn as you cover your face — you both had checked on Satomi before but she was fast asleep still, and now — you checked the time — 9:30 PM, you were sure she’d be up all night.

“Yes baby, mommy and daddy had some stuff to talk about,” Satoru grabs your robe for you, handing it over as he pulls his discarded boxers on under the sheets, “come here,” and she squeals as she runs into her daddy’s arms, Satoru scoops her up before pressing kisses all over her face, her giggles and his grin nearly too much for you.

“Now she’s gonna be up all night,” you murmur to Satoru, and he’s smiling.

“I can tire her out,” he grins, and then he adds with a whisper, “and then I’ll tire you out,” and you flush, shoving him playfully, “come on, my love, let’s go play for a while and let mama rest,” and he’s sliding out of bed, carrying her out of the bedroom, and you watch him, lying on your side, with a smile on your lips.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad having a husband — especially when it was Satoru Gojo.

Satoru lets you and Satomi sleep in the next morning, making a smoothie for himself, as he starts to prepare breakfast. He did tire you both out last night, especially you — and you did some exhausting of your own, his fingers running over the hickies you left all over his neck and collarbone with a slight hum. He tied your apron on himself, only boxers and a sleeveless tee on.

He started to crack eggs into a bowl with one hand. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes again — he meant what he said. He would make it up to you, or at least he would try — and he would spend the rest of his life treasuring you and his kid — and maybe another if you let him have his way, he thought, biting back a grin.

You had turned him down last night when he asked,

“Don’t you think it’s time we try for another one?” His arms are winding around you, half hard erection already pressing into you, as the two of you stood right outside your daughter’s doorway, watching the angel sleep, “we did do well with the first one,”

“Toru, we just got back together, we’re not having another kid,” and he’s already pouting, you know without looking at him, “but that would be nice — for our daughter to have a sibling,” and god, it made him to take right there (which he did), but he couldn’t wait until all three of you were ready. Because he wouldn’t dare to miss a second of it — never again.

And then a knock at the door pulls him from his thoughts, and his brow furrows. Who could it be this early?

He walks over, checking through the peephole, a grin growing on his lips, oh, perfect timing. Satoru opens the door, leaning against the doorframe, “Yes?”

Atsuya Kusakabe frowns, jaw nearly dropping as he attempts not to gape at Satoru Gojo standing in his date’s doorway, nearly dropping the bag of medicine and soup he had packed up for you, “Uh, sorry, I was looking for—“

“My wife?” He raises a brow, and Kusakabe’s face blanches, as Satoru only smiles with a shrug, “sorry I should say ex-wife, we did get a divorce,” and Kusakabe’s mouth opens and closes, “but you know, she never stopped being mine,”

Kusakabe clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, “where is—“

“She’s sleeping still,” Satoru’s lips curl, as he sighs, “she wasn’t feeling well yesterday, but I think I made her feel better last night,” and he’s rubbing the back of his neck, movement drawing his attention to your marks littering his body.

A flush crawls up his neck and ears and he clears his throat, “I-I see,” he thrusts the bag into Satoru’s hands, “could you please give this to her and let her know—“ and he’s shaking his head, rubbing at his temples, “tell her whatever you want.”

And he’s gone, door slamming behind him, click of the lock. He holds the bag behind him, only to walk forward to see you peeking from the bedroom, his button up shirt thrown over your head, as you rub your eyes, “who was it?”

He only smiles at you, dropping the bag in the trash, “No one important,” and he’s finding his way to your side, arms winding around your waist, “I made us breakfast,”

“Oh really?” You hum, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, pressing sweet kisses that only makes you sigh contently, “what’s the occasion?”

“Oh, just the first day of the rest of our lives, nothing too big,” he hums, and you laugh, his favorite noise that only makes him fall deeper in love with you, if that was even possible, “have to treat you right don’t I, wifey?”

“Yes, you do,” and your lips find his again, “my husband,” and the word sticks in his chest, a missing piece that fits right back into place, and fixes a hole that had been aching for far too long, “should we go wake up our daughter?”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, “Together.”

✧ a/n: so i didn't think i'd finish this week with being at my sister's and having a con this weekend but i found the time! i hope you enjoyed this one. this is my reality for gojo i'm living in :) fun fact, satomi and satoru both mean enlightenment! :)

✧ taglist: @jasminelee324 , @forest-hashira , @spider-fan72 ,, @rougebrainsludge , @theshylittleelfgirl , @ririchurl , @johannakhalafalla , @hanlay , @fawnlikelore , @vickkysthings , @dead-kats , @hantaslittlearsonist t , @being-me-is-not-a-sin , @augustwinesworld , @forest-fruits-jam , @kirashuu , @catsgomurp , @daddytojji , @notgoodforlife , @hyori2 , @shrimpy109 , @goddess-ofthe-godless , @i-spilt-ink-on-my-phone , @sunamatic , @rougebrainsludge , @redmangotango , , @psychxbby , @nakariabnrb , @mua-for-now @dazailover1900 , @alwaysfreakingout , @yamaguccitadashi , @equikaz , @gojosatorubrainrot

#sab [mlist]#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fanfiction #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fanfiction #gojo x reader #gojo fanfiction #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #gojo satoru smut #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jjk gojo

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amaya77 · 1 year ago

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#best of the worst #best #best jewellery shop #highlights #“Sapphire Dreams: Exquisite Blue Stone Jewelry for Every Occasion”

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beloveds-embrace · 3 months ago

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tf 141 with a reader who loves jewelry >>

It’s not a particularly visible obsession; all your boys know is that they’ve never seen you without jewelry. Be it pretty, delicate earrings, a lovely necklace that rests in between your cleavage, or a gleaming set of rings and bracelets. They are eye-catching, on occasions, and other times they blend so nicely into whatever outfit you have adorned yourself with.

They don’t realize it, they don’t make the connection until you’ve invited them into your house, and then you are leading them deep, deep into the basement until they are in front of a closed room. The entire thing is suspicious, honestly alarming because Ghost did so much research into you but never knew anything about this- but you look so nervous and hopeful, emotions bared.

They aren’t prepared to enter a room stuffed full of jewelry. A room practically glittering, gleaming like you’ve brought yourself a corner of the starry universe. Rows upon rows, cabinets and closed glass cases. And then you are smiling, stepping into the room and urging them in.

“I… I’ve always loved jewelry,” you clear your throat, voice soft and hushed. You look around, an unmistakable look of fondness and happiness in your eyes. “Necklaces, earrings.. anything that can be put on the body to adorn it more than clothes could. Ever since I was a child, I was, well, obsessed with collecting them. I love collecting them, and every piece here is precious to me.”

Your cheeks turn pink, and you look away from their gazes. “…but you are more precious to me, and I trust all of you. Which is why I feel happy, showing this part of me to you. And…”

You grin now, opening a cabinet with a simple key you put away to pull out four jewelry boxes. “-And that is why I got these!”

You open the first box, showing John a beautiful necklace that holds a single garnet shaped into a delicate teardrop. Garnet, for his birthstone. John, John, John- a man who will always have your heart. John, who treats you like a jewel even more delicate than the one in your hands. You’ve never had anyone hold you quite as he does, so full of love.

The second box is for Soap, for your Johnny. A dangling pair of earrings that would brush across your skin should you wear them, almost as sweetly as his kisses across your body. A stormy blue, much like his eyes.

Third box is bigger- the biggest. This one, you had custom-made. Not cheap at all, but worth every single dollar. Made entirely out of diamonds, the shoulder pieces would drape so elegantly across your shoulders and dangle off your back, like a never-ending embrace. Your most expensive piece to this day, and yet you would so easily swear that it did not compare to Gaz’s beauty anyways. It was based on him, on how you looked at him, on the sheer love you felt for and from him.

The last piece is a necklace. It curls around your neck not like a collar, but like a hissy cat seeking warmth. Three rows of pearls, shiny and pretty, and in the middle sits a round red jasper. You don’t remember when it had been, but you’d read that red jasper meant courage, preseverance, and healing. Perfect for your brave, incredible Si, whom you’ll always admire and adore.

But in your enthusiasm of describing how and why you chose each piece, you are blind to the way they look at you:

In a room full of gems, jewels and stars, you shine the brightest to them.

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crushmeeren · 1 year ago

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♡ Todoroki/Fem Reader

♡ Master List Link

⇢ Everyone involved in this fic is aged up/18+.

⇢ Warnings; cursing, making out, dirty talk, Shouto is a champ at eating pussy/ass, fingering, vaginal sex, Shouto is a little subby in this

♡ Authors Note; I had to complete the headcannons for my favorite three MHA boys sooner rather than later. I love Shouto, he deserves all the good things and a lot of hugs.

Shouto who comes off as cold, uninterested, a giant dick — but who is so sweet and so loving it makes your teeth ache. Who is the kind of person that writes down facts about you so he doesn’t forget — you accidentally stumbled upon the list in his notes app and promptly cried.

Shouto who never ceases to buy extra of what he’s eating so you can have some too, even if you weren’t hungry in the first place.

Shouto who doesn’t understand social cues very well. Who tilts his head adorably when he’s confused. Who wears a blank, spaced out expression on his face often when he’s unsure of what’s going on.

Shouto who lets you teach him how to read the room a bit easier, to understand body language and tone. Whose pretty smile could melt icy glaciers with its tender warmth. Who is so comfortable with you he makes all sorts of facial expression, which you take as a triumphant win.

Shouto who you met in high school but didn’t date until after graduation. Who you crossed paths with while battling a villain and you caught mid air as he was nose diving from the top of a building. Who was probably a bit delirious because he swears he saw you with a halo, because he “fell in love with an Angel that day.”

Shouto who loves to drink strawberry milk. Who has so many cartons cluttering the fridge in your home it drives you nuts. Who compulsively brings you a glass when he’s drinking some because he’s learned he can show you he loves you by sharing what enjoys. It’s so cute when you get a glass out of nowhere.

Shouto who decides to be a bit “rebellious” after he gets out of high school. Who decides to cut his hair shaggy and short. Who gets a nose ring, pierces his ears and acquires a tongue ring. Who is with you when you get your own body modifications, and often wears jewelry that reminds him of you.

Shouto who claims his absolute favorite thing in the world is to snuggle up with you on the couch. Especially when it’s raining and the two of you are wrapped up in a fluffy blanket burrito, watching movies and napping. If it turns X rated, well who can blame you?

Shouto who is a dry texter. We’re talking Sahara Desert dry. Who does still take the time to send you pictures of things you love while he’s out on patrol, especially of dogs that he encounters. Who gets so happy when you respond in kind, forming your own language with one another.

Shouto who tends to wear a streetwear style when he’s not working. Who likes to wear matching clothes with you. Who even bought you both a pair of matching underwear with your faces on them. You’re unable to resist, you’re technically sitting on his face all day… right??

Shouto who is terrible at almost every video game, but who can annihilate anyone at Mario Kart. You’re definitely not bitter about that. Funnily enough, the best part of game night when everyone is over is watching Bakugou lose his mind when Sho decimates repeatedly.

Shouto who has remained tight knit with Midoriya. Who considers the man as his brother by extension, and who you’ve grown close to as well. Who goes to the #1 hero for help planning you a surprise party by sending Midoriya a series of increasingly concerning emojis until he agrees.

Shouto who loves to eat peach gummy rings. Who you have, on more than one occasion, woken up to eating the candy at 2:00 am. Who offers you one, which you casually eat and go back to bed. Who memorizes your favorite candy and leaves it for you to find everywhere.

Shouto who has told you the story of how he got his burn scar. About his father, his brother and all the horrors of his past. Who opened up to you, willingly sharing a side of himself others don’t get the privilege to see.

Shouto who has taken you to meet his family, to meet his mother. Who added you to the group chat with all his siblings, which is unbelievably entertaining. Who tries to fit his face with more than one expression when he meets your parents, but you make sure he knows he’s perfect for you just the way he is.

Shouto who loves you unconditionally. Who is your soul mate, your best friend. Whose love for you has grown bigger than a California Redwood tree. Who becomes your husband, who you love more than life itself. You’d start a goddamn war for this man.

Shouto who enjoys kissing. Who loves to lazily make out with you. Whose cock starts twitching in his briefs when the kiss turns messy. Whose lips get slick and puffy as they press together consistently with yours. Who eagerly slips his tongue into your mouth, sucking on it and sinking his teeth into your bottom lip so roughly it stings.

Shouto who likes to spread you out on your back in bed, stripping you until your only in one of his large T-shirts. Who leers at you when he pushes it up your belly, gently letting it catch on your tits until he can watch them fall and bounce. Who makes you keep the shirt up around your collarbone when he sucks on your nipples.

Shouto who bites the skin on your sternum, plush lips tickling your belly as he makes his way to your pussy. Who grips the bottoms of your thighs and presses them backwards to your chest. Who stares at you with heavy lidded eyes as he licks from your pussy to your clit, making sure to swirl the cold metal of his tongue ring around it.

Shouto whose eyes flutter closed while he eats you out. Who makes you cry out when he sucks your clit, tongue ring passing over it with each methodical swipe of his tongue. Who praises you murmuring “your pussy is amazing angel, will you let me eat your ass? pretty please?”

Shouto who strips you both. Whose flushed cock stands full and heavy when you see it. Who flips you, yanking your ass in the air and shoving your face into the sheets. Who spanks you unforgivingly and grips the thick flesh of your ass to spread you open. Who chills his tongue ring even more and kitten licks at your rim until you want to scream.

Shouto who shoves two fingers in your pussy without warning. Who curls and thrusts them as he sucks on your rim until you cum so hard you see stars. Who pulls away from you, stroking himself for relief and speaks with a wrecked voice pleading “I want to put my cock in you so badly, can I please princess?”

Shouto who is aware you’re a pillow princess, but has hearts in his eyes, cheeks flushing bubblegum pink when you tell him you’ll ride him for a bit. Who props his back up against the headboard with a couple pillows, allowing you to flip around so your back faces him. Who holds your wrists behind your back as you ride him, letting out delicate and whiny moans while you make his toes curl.

Shouto who spreads you with his free hand, eyes glued as his cock disappears into your pussy while you bounce in his lap. Whose dick throbs, breathing hitching when you throw your head back and you moan “fuck Shouto, your cock is so good, you’re gonna make me cum!”

Shouto who reaches his limit, pushing you off his cock and onto your back whispering filthy praise in your ear. Who grips his shaft, teasing your clit with the tip before slipping his dick all the way back inside with one fluid roll of his hips.

Shouto who bends you in half, hooking your knees over his shoulders and folding you into a mating press. Who fucks you roughly, hips curling up with the intention to bully your g-spot. Who makes sure you feel each drag of his cock, coaxing you into cumming with a handful of strokes. Who gets you to cum over and over, little water balloons of warm pleasure popping and coursing through you.

Shouto who produces low moans when your pussy squeezes his cock. Who desperately pleads with you to cum one more time because he can’t hold on for much longer.

Shouto who makes you feel dizzy as you chase your pleasure once more while folded as a pretzel. Who cums instantly when your sweet cries hit his ears, praising and encouraging him all at once. Who pushes into the hilt, grinding against you as he bursts at the seams, panting to catch his breath.

Shouto who giggles with you as he untangles your limbs. Who flops down beside you, lacing your fingers together as you enjoy the leftover bliss.

Shouto who eventually gets up to clean you both. Who finds the shirt you were previously wearing and some clean panties for you to wear. Who pulls you into a hug, murmuring how much he loves you, planting kisses all over your face. Shouto who then goes to the kitchen and brings you a glass of strawberry milk.

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helluvapoison · 1 year ago

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jealousy, jealousy

˚✧₊⁎ The Vees ⁎⁺˳✧༚

warnings: violence, off page murdah, suggestive themes, possessive behavior

18+ only

watch out for red flags in real life and read at your own discretion ♡

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

˚✧₊⁎ Vox ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• The least jealous of the three, but that doesn’t say much, does it?

• Running an enterprise goes hand in hand with being an Overlord. Vox prides himself on being everywhere at once but he knows his limits. If wants to keep this cushy life he built, and you safe, he can’t spread himself too thin. That means occasionally cutting back on distractions

• So go out, have your fun— playtoys even! He’s not worried. Vox has literal eyes on you 24/7, access to your phone and all its contents, your lifeline is constantly synced to his peripherals. Really! He’s not worried!

• The problem arises when Vox feels threatened or undermined. If he’s in the same room, no one should even be looking at you! And if some sorry soul dared to touch you!? That’d be the last time they have hands

• “I’ve been looking for you!” He says from behind as his claws creep around your shoulders. He’ll ignore the Sinner, bringing your attention to him as security drags them away. You don’t need to know how jealous he can get

˚✧₊⁎ Velvette ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Sharing, shockingly, is not in her vocabulary! Not outfits, not credit, not the spotlight and fucking especially not you

• You’re her favorite project, she so lovingly calls you, which is a giant compliment. She dresses you every day so if— for some hellish reason— you left her side, she knows she has a visual claim on you. Vel quickly snaps and posts a pic of the two of you together before you go, just to remind her audience the fact you’re spoken for! Don’t you feel safe? And stylish?

• Unlike her partners, Velvette can multitask so having you around the studio can be an everyday treat! Unfortunately she has to split her focus, occasionally crashing the conversation to a stop so she can snap at someone

• Her eyes are sharp, they pick up on every little detail and seldom miss a thing. No one in her workshop would even think about approaching you, unless Vel asked, so it was all too easy to spot that new-nobody-model break his neck to check you out

• You’ve seen Velvette reduce even the oldest, most thick skinned to a puddle of piss in the street with her words. She doesn’t give anyone the chance to touch what’s hers. She’s shameless and loud, stopping the inappropriate behavior from across the room if she has to, “Oy! You! You’re fuckin’ fired, get the fuck out of here ‘fore I set you on fire!”

• As they run for the elevator, she debates if the clothes they’re wearing are worth keeping or not. With a glowing finger she swipes them off the model anyways, stripping them of her brand… and their dignity

• Velvette marks the occasion with a kiss to your cheek, stained with black lipstick, and another posted picture with a clever caption

˚✧₊⁎ Valentino ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Val invented jealousy

• He handles it as well as everyone expects

• It’s not limited to you, either! Business partners, employees, friends (if he has any left), play things, he’ll be up and arms about anything that belongs to him. There’s only one way to cut the cord tethered to him, and he’s always the one to decide how and when

• Val may have a lot of toys but you’re not one of them. You’re special— precious, actually!

• He has tabs on you at all times. Tracker in your phone, jewelry with his name on it, a bodyguard if he’s feeling particularly paranoid that day!

• Val also loves showing you off. Love bites are his favorite mark of ownership, he’ll show off wherever is most recent so be prepared to swat his hands away. Everyone can look, but only he can touch. He has four hands, one of them is on you at all times in public

• No one should manage to get in spitting distance of you— but if somehow they did and had the gall to talk to you… he’ll break their nose on the spot. He’d make quicker work with a gun, but then he’d get blood on you and he doesn’t want that

• “You’re so fuckin’ hot tonight, baby, look how clumsy you’ve made this idiot!” Val cackles, poorly masking his rage, “Seriously, I think you’re trying to get me riled up.” You open your mouth to deny it but he laughs again, carefully pulling you closer with both pairs of arms, “I’m only teasing!”

• Looming over you, Val shoots said idiot a murderous glare that gives them a five second head start. He’s yet to lose this game of chase. He always returns, clean as a crappy soap ad, to shower you in gifts in lieu of an apology for disappearing

#hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel headcanon #the vees #the vees x reader #vox headcanons #vox imagine #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel velvette #velvette x reader #velvette headanons #velvette imagine #valentino x reader #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino imagine #they’re all messy but i love them #except val he knows what he did

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gi4hao · 8 months ago

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ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ ˎˊ- how they make you feel beautiful

ot13 x reader — some mentions of insecurities

a/n: don’t mind me pushing the taking-pictures-as-a-love-language agenda for wonu, as always

— seungcheol: with gifts

with him, gifts for no particular reason are much more frequent than gifts for a specific occasion. he doesn’t like to come home empty handed and always says you deserve all the pretty things in the world. if he ever buys you a piece of clothing or jewelry, then he’ll be the happiest man on earth every time you wear it, showering you with compliments a little bit more than usual just because he loves spoiling you <3

— jeonghan: with specific compliments

every variation of color in your irises, the micro expressions on your face, the way your laugh slightly varies depending on what’s provoking it: whether it’s something new or not, jeonghan will compliment the slightest details in your appearance or your personality. sometimes he begins with a “did i ever tell you…”, and you know you’re about to hear the sweetest thing ever. like, “did i ever tell you how dreamy you look in that light? i can’t stop looking at you,” and even though he’s just talking about the orange-ish hues of your bedside lamp, you know he’s being 100% honest.

— joshua: by saying it out loud

“you’re the prettiest” while you’re brushing your teeth, “you look so gorgeous” when he’s picking you up in his car, or just your usual “hey beautiful” when you wake up in the morning. he never gets tired of saying it and you never get tired of hearing it. he barely uses your name anymore because he’s so used to calling you ‘beautiful’. the man is so smitten he could spend hours flirting with you, years into the relationship. and it’s even better if you’re easily flustered because he loves how shy you get when you hear those words…

— jun: with cuddles

there’s something about the way his fingers mindlessly trace your silhouette that makes you feel like the most delicate sculpture ever. you could just be cuddling in silence, reading a book or scrolling on your phone, and his hands will gently brush against your skin like they were made to do that and nothing else. sometimes you feel like returning the favor, but although he doesn’t mind it at all, it’ll never come close to how much he loves cherishing you with his cuddles.

— hoshi: by being your #1 hypeman

even though you’re someone that brings hoshi a lot of peace and serenity, your mere existence also gets him very excited for no apparent reason. the way he hypes you up whenever you’re getting ready to go out together is similar to the way people cheer for their favorite sports team. he’s celebrating two things: you being absolutely gorgeous, and him being lucky enough to be your partner. “honestly, if i saw you walking down the street without being the one dating you… i think i’d start crying.”

— wonwoo: by taking pictures

it’s not just him taking pictures that makes you feel beautiful, it’s the way he treats his photographs as if they’re the most precious things he owns. he regularly makes sure that they’re synchronized on his personal icloud account in case he ever loses them (it’s very serious to him). but also, he keeps a picture of you on his desk, in his wallet, as his phone wallpaper… and everyone thinks it’s the sweetest thing ever. the guys tried to tease him for it at first, but they quickly gave up because even they had to admit it’s an adorable way to express his love for you.

— woozi: with meaningful looks

it’s a rare occurrence to catch woozi in the act of being incredibly down bad for you. but it sometimes happens when you notice him looking at you with heart-shaped eyes and a smile tugging at his lips. you could be sitting on the other side of a room and his gaze would still find you in a second, lingering for a few seconds just to appreciate your beauty. he said so himself actually, when you asked him why he was looking at you so frequently. “everyone likes looking at beautiful things,” he replied very naturally, not picking up on the squeal you had to hold back.

— dokyeom: by talking about you

“y/n would love that”. “this would look amazing on y/n”. “oh look, y/n just sent me a pic!”. it’s a daily occurrence, and everyone knows they just have to deal with it. some boyfriends might try to gatekeep their partner: that’s not dokyeom’s case at all. in fact, people better be complimenting you in front of him! to be honest, he was talking about you non-stop before you guys even started dating, which is why you barely had to introduce yourself to his friends. you’re one of his proudest accomplishments and he wants the whole world to know about you!!

— mingyu: with kisses

there’s nothing like being kissed by mingyu to feel a sudden boost of self-confidence. his hands gently cupping your cheeks, the way he looks at you in between kisses and the growing smile in his eyes and on his lips… everything in his behavior seems tailor-made to make you feel like a vision of heaven. it doesn’t always have to be kisses on your lips tho, sometimes it’s on the back of your hand, on your shoulder or on your temple. but no matter where his lips touch your skin, they always convey just how much he cherishes you and every inch of your body.

— minghao: by drawing you

no other representation of yourself makes you feel as self-confident as minghao’s drawings of you. at first you were a bit taken aback by the feeling of seeing yourself through someone else’s perspective in such a raw way. but you got used to it pretty quickly, mostly because of how often minghao uses you as a reference. when you take a closer look at them, you realize his drawings are filled with details that not only depict your looks, but also traits of your personality. slowly but surely, you start to believe in the beauty he consistently finds in you, and that’s enough to let him know he’s doing a perfect job.

— seungkwan: by complimenting your insecurities

he doesn’t do it that often because he doesn’t want it to be the only thing he compliments you on. but seungkwan is very attentive to the way you perceive yourself so he will guess your insecurities even if you don’t talk about them out loud. therefore, he’ll find subtle ways to compliment them without making it too obvious. sometimes it’s not even out loud, it might just be by gently brushing against a body part you’re not confident in, or hyping you up in an outfit that doesn’t hide your insecurity. no matter how he does it, it always comes with such kindness and love that you have no choice but to feel a bit prettier than you did seconds ago.

— vernon: by paying attention

it sounds silly but it’s true. vernon pays attention to everything, from the colors you look most confident in, to what kind of compliments seem to work best on you. and later on, he’s able to adapt his behavior accordingly, to make you feel as good as possible in any situation. “you always know exactly what say, i don’t know how you do it,” you once told him, almost teary from how sweet he was being. “well, the fact that you strongly underestimate how beautiful you are is an insanely good motivation,” he replied, gently wiping the tears under your lash line.

— dino: by showing you off

he considers you the rarest gem of all, so yes of course he will show you off to whoever’s near! he’s the type of boyfriend that will enter a room before you just because he wants to do jazz hands for your entry. and he has such a smug look on his face when you two are out together, it’s like he’s in a permanent state of pride just because you’re holding hands in public. and although he’s not huge on pda, he has no problem complimenting you out loud in front of other people, and you find yourself on his instagram stories on a regular basis, which makes your self-esteem go up a notch every single time.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

#seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #scoups x reader #jeonghan x reader #joshua x reader #jun x reader #hoshi x reader #wonwoo x reader #woozi x reader #dokyeom x reader #mingyu x reader #seungkwan x reader #minghao x reader #vernon x reader #dino x reader #seungcheol x reader

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quarterlifekitty · 5 days ago

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Birthday presents:

Gaz plans out an entire day. From the moment you wake up to when you go to bed. Doing all of your favorite things, going to your favorite places, punctuated by snacks and meals at your favorite restaurants and cafes. And you get a teddy bear, that’s the rule. Every major gift occasion must come with a teddy bear.

Soap buys you something you had no idea you needed. Something you end up using every day. Something perfect. And on top of that, he makes you in insanely complex card. He’s one of those freaks who feel down the card making rabbit hole, so now he has a die cutter, embossing folders, about a million stamps and colors of ink, embossing powder in every color, etc.

Ghost becomes your personal chef for the day. Literally anything you want. As long as it doesn’t contain anything endangered, he will cook it. And he’ll take you with him to get all the ingredients— have a nice drive, buy you all your special snacks you can’t get at your usual store. He does require that if you want a stew or slow cooked meal, or something with marinade, you do have to notify him 24 hours in advance. He also gets you a children’s birthday card and crosses out the number on it with marker and writes your age. “Congratulations birthday girl, you’re 6 25!”

Price gets you a new charm for your charm bracelet, and a nice classy piece of jewelry. Something simple, beautiful, and personal. Engraved, of course. And a beautiful cake from the nicest bakery you know— even if it’s in another country (Nik owes him).

König gets you, first of all, an enormous assortment of chocolate. I think he takes a lot of pride in the quality of Austrian and German chocolate. Probably also commissions a custom medallion from his favored chocolatier. Besides that, he plans a getaway. Somewhere you can go and just not be bothered for a week or so. He often feels guilty about how much time you spend apart, so he takes every opportunity to try to make it up.

Nikolai just gives you a good old fashioned shopping spree. Anything for his gorgeous darling malýshka. And in any country you want as long as it has non-hostile airspace. You really can go shopping in Milan, Paris, and New York City in the same day if you want. That’s what you get for dating a pilot!

Rudy gets you the nicest version whatever it is that you use. If you like nail polish or lipstick, he’ll get you Charlotte Tillbury. If you like silver (in jewelry or houseware) he’ll get Tiffany. If you like pewter he’ll get Royal Selangor. It’s always something very nicely made and/or something that will last a very long time.

Nikto will get you something impossibly sentimental. Say, for example, that you lamented to him about your favorite childhood stuffed animal that had been lost when you’d had a small house fire, or when you’d cut ties with your family. You will wake up on your birthday to that exact make and model of stuffed animal, no longer how long ago you lost it, doesn’t matter if it’s no longer produced. He will perform minor miracles for you.

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kazutora-kurokawa · 7 months ago

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Bonten with a reader who is literally a little princess; a girly (something like your tenjiku publication with a hyper feminine reader)

Bonten x Hyper Feminine!Reader

♡ SFW, suggestive, fem reader, fluff, reader likes dresses, skirts, heels, scrunchies, ribbons, bows and all that stuff, reader wears perfume and makeup ♡

Characters: Mikey, Sanzu, Kakucho, Kokonoi, Ran, Rindou, Mochi, Takeomi

note: thanks for requesting anon 🩷

note 2: my brain is simultaneously on overdrive and dead asf lol, this took me forever for no reason

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Mikey

💠 Emo boy and his princess girlfriend lol

💠 He doesn't mind your fashion sense and actually enjoys the pop of color and brightness you bring to his usually dark and bleak life

💠 Keeps you far away from the rest of Bonten, he doesn't want nor need you getting involved in his shit

Sanzu

🌸 Have you seen this man's hair? Bubblegum pink 🙄

🌸 He'd probably want to match hair colors

🌸 He'd absolutely sort through your hair clips and such, arranging them by color and size

🌸 Seems calm but is actually going feral on the inside whenever he sees you in a fluffy dress

Kakucho

🩷 Buries his face in your neck because he loves the smell of your perfume

🩷 Sprays his cologne on a jacket or shirt and leaves them with you before he goes on business trips, better yet he'll leave the whole bottle

🩷 Loves when you leave kiss marks on his clothes, even though the Haitani brothers (and Sanzu lol) poke fun at him for it

Kokonoi

💵 Bought every piece of clothing and accessory you own

💵 Tries heels on before he buys them for you, probably fell while walking in them too

💵 Does your hair for you even though he could definitely pay someone to do it instead, he likes the bonding experience

Ran

💜 Treats you like royalty, you look like a princess and deserve to be treated like one

💜 Lets you run wild with his credit cards because anything his princess wants, she gets

💜 Picks out your outfits everyday and gets pouty if you wear something other than what he picked

Rindou

🩵 Likes when you play in his hair and style it with hair clips

🩵 Let you put makeup on him once....never again lmao

🩵 He'd tie a ribbon on his arm for you, no doubt

Mochi

🍡 Wears your hair ties and scrunchies on his wrists, either you leave them with him or he just snatches them

🍡 Has probably ripped your skirt on an occasion or two, he's very heavy handed but he doesn't mean to be

🍡 Type of boyfriend to lift you up and spin you around just to see your dress flow in the wind

Takeomi

🚬 Refuses to smoke around you because he doesn't want to leave the smell of cigarettes on your pretty clothes

🚬 Constantly checking your closet for new clothes so he can know what not to buy you

🚬 Always finds your hair accessories and jewelry scattered around the house and struggles trying to find where it goes

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe @southside-otaku @xxchthonicreaturexx

#tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #mikey x reader #sanzu x reader #kakucho x reader #kokonoi x reader #ran x reader #rindou x reader #mochi x reader #takeomi x reader

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madroosterjewelrybox · 2 years ago

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https://etsy.com/shop/madroosterjewelryshop

#fashion #jewelry #bracelet #boho jewelry #beach jewelry #every occasion jewelry

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vanteguccir · 1 month ago

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── ୨୧ !　HER WEAKNESS

matt sturniolo x mafia!reader

SUMMARY: Where Matt's secret relationship with Y/N, the boss of LA's most feared mafia, is revealed to the media in seconds. Now, Matt is in danger, and Y/N isn't afraid of burning the world down to protect him.

WARNING: Use of guns, car racing, blood, injuries, mean!reader ('hate the world but love him' trope), mentions of death, dark romance.

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is MY idea and work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: I'm super into this trope of famous!matt x mafia!reader, and I want to write more for it, so feel free to send requests for scenarios inside this universe <3

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Looking back, it was hard for Matt to remember a time when his life wasn’t full with the kind of fear that made him look over his shoulder every five minutes.

It wasn’t the kind of fear born out of paranoia, no, Matt wasn’t paranoid. He was just aware. Aware that being the boyfriend of Y/N Y/L/N, the most notorious name in Los Angeles, came with its own set of risks. Risks that loomed like shadows, thick and suffocating, creeping into every corner of his existence.

Becoming her boyfriend had been as exhilarating as it was terrifying. Y/N wasn’t just anyone. She was the Y/N Y/L/N, the Queen of Los Angeles, a woman whose name was whispered in hushed tones, whose reputation alone was enough to make the strongest men cry. She wasn’t just the boss of a mafia; she was the boss. Every move she made sent quakes through her world, her presence commanding respect and fear in equal measure.

To the rest of the world, she was the devil. But to him? She was something else entirely.

Matt often found himself thinking about the contradictions of their relationship. There was no point in explaining the downsides of being with someone like her; even with the constant threat of danger, the late nights spent waiting for her to come back to him, the uneasy knowledge that she ruled a world where mercy was a foreign concept, all of it came with the territory. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

Because Y/N, for all her sharp edges and lethal reputation, treated him as if he was the one ruling. She hated the world, but she loved him. And not just him, his brothers, too. By extension, Chris and Nick had become part of her orbit, and she cared for them in a way that left Matt awestruck.

She always put him first, ensuring that he never wanted for anything, that he was shielded from the worst of her world even as he stood at its edge.

Her kindness to him came in forms, both small and extravagant. Expensive gifts appeared without occasion - jewelry that gleamed under the light, tailored suits he’d never wear unless dragged to one of her events, a vintage drum he’d only dreamed of owning. Once, she’d surprised him with a trip to Paris, casually booking an entire penthouse suite as though it were nothing. It baffled him sometimes, the lengths she went to just to see him happy.

She treated him like he was the most important person in her world, and maybe he was. He felt it in the way she looked at him, her eyes softening in a way they never did for anyone else. He felt it in the way her hand would linger on his arm, in the whispered words she saved just for him. With her, he wasn’t the Matt Sturniolo, one of the triplets that made worldwide success. He was hers.

Still, there were moments when the weight of her world pressed down on him, moments when the reality of who she was and what she did became impossible to ignore. Her enemies weren’t nameless shadows; they were people with resources and vendettas, people who wouldn’t hesitate to affect her, no matter how.

It was late at night, and Chris was sprawled on the couch, one leg hooked lazily over the armrest, the other propped against the coffee table. The glow of his phone illuminated his face, basking in the steady stream of comments that flooded his Instagram live.

"Yo, what’s up, everybody?" He drawled, the words slithering out while a grin painted his face. "Where’s Matt and Nick?"

He paused, scratching his stubbled jaw.

"Nick’s upstairs, probably editing our next video. And Matt? He’s over there being my personal maid."

The front camera changed its focus abruptly, revealing the kitchen in all its warm, domestic glow. Behind the table, Matt stood hunched over a cutting board, his movements clumsy as he sliced through a pile of vegetables, ready to make simple sandwiches for them.

Without missing a beat, Matt flipped him off, his voice a low, exasperated rumble.

"Chris, shut up."

The live chat erupted with reactions and comments. What Chris didn’t notice - but the viewers certainly did - was the figure walking from Matt's bedroom toward the kitchen - or, more specifically, toward the middle triplet.

Y/N moved silently, her steps deliberate, her presence commanding despite the casual simplicity of her appearance. Black sweatpants clung to her legs, and an oversized shirt - Matt's shirt - draped her frame, covering the gun holster that held her black Glock; an intentional option of indifference, one that she only used when she was at his house. But her eyes betrayed her.

They were sharp, focused entirely on Matt as if he were the center of her universe - only traveling briefly to Ricardo and Lucas, her bodyguards who stood like brick walls at the top of the stairs that lead to the main entrance, watching over them like hawks.

They were always the ones who Y/N chose to follow her when she went to the triplets house, since both of them were the best at treating the brothers as 'normal' as possible, and not like people who were under extreme protection 24/7.

Just as Chris turned the camera back to himself, Y/N reached Matt, her arms encircling his waist in a gesture that spoke volumes. Matt didn’t flinch - he never did when it came to her - but his body softened, the rigid lines of his shoulders easing as a faint smile ghosted across his lips.

It was nice to have her close.

"Hey." He murmured, his voice a private sanctuary meant only for her.

"Hi." She replied, her tone quiet but rich with adoration. Her guard lowered just enough for a hint of vulnerability to escape.

"You okay?" Matt asked, tilting his head slightly, his knife pausing its steady rhythm against the cutting board.

"Always." She answers, ignoring the way her voice showed the weight of a day that had pushed her to her limits. "Missed' you today. So fucking much." She moved her body slightly, searching for more skin to skin contact - no matter their clothes, ignoring the way Matt shivered when her covered gun pressed against his lower back.

"... going to feed me good, obviously." Chris joked from behind them, oblivious to the intimacy unfolding mere feet away.

Matt tuned him out, his focus narrowing to the woman resting against him. Her forehead pressed into his shoulder, and her breathing slowed, each exhale a quiet surrender. In his arms, she allowed herself to just exist, an escape from the chaos of her world.

The fragile peace shattered as a ringtone erupted from the hallway, its shrill insistence cutting through the air like a blade.

Her body tensed immediately, her muscles locking as if bracing for an unseen attack.

"Your phone." Matt whispered, his tone calm but underlined with an edge of concern.

"I don’t want to get it." She muttered, her reluctance heavy.

"It might be important." He pressed gently, his words carrying a logic she couldn’t ignore.

She sighed, frustration and resignation mingling as she withdrew from his warmth. She had already spent the whole day dealing with imbeciles who thought that owing her was a good idea. Her mind was in no right place to deal with more problems.

The absence of his touch felt immediate, a cold void where safety had been moments before. Her fingers brushed lightly against his back as she stepped away, a silent promise that she’d return.

Matt caught her gaze as she moved toward the bedroom, his eyes steady and reassuring, a quiet affirmation that he’d be waiting, always.

The sound of the ringtone grew louder as she neared the door.

The muffled sound of Chris's voice was grounding, but it suddenly turned distant, irrelevant, as her gaze locked onto the glowing device vibrating against Matt’s nightstand.

Raphael.

Her blood chilled at the sight of the name of her right-hand, her fingers flexing instinctively at her sides. Raphael never called unless it was urgent - unlike the idiots who bothered her minute by minute to ask mediocre questions and made her want to pull out her gun and see blood, and in her world, urgent rarely meant anything short of catastrophic.

The moment her fingers wrapped around the phone, she pressed it to her ear, the cool surface grounding her.

"Raphael." She said, her voice clipped and razor-sharp, an edge of control that allowed no room for weakness.

"Y/N." He began, calling her name in the way only he could, his tone level but brimming with tension. "We have a situation."

The words hit her like a punch to the chest, though her expression didn’t waver. Externally, she was unflinching. Internally, a darker part of her coiled, poised to strike. She had navigated countless crises since she was seventeen, each one making her tougher. But no amount of training or experience prepared her for the particular dread that crawled beneath her skin at the word situation.

"What kind of situation?" She demanded, already bracing for impact, her voice an anchor of authority. She hated when they told the bad news but didn't explain it.

Raphael exhaled sharply, closing his eyes tightly behind the call.

"Our tech team flagged something around the internet. There’s a picture of you circulating online. It’s starting to spread."

Her grip on the phone tightened, her knuckles blanching as she steadied her breath.

"Explain." She commanded, though her pulse betrayed her, a frantic drumbeat against her ribs.

"It seems to be from Christopher Sturniolo's live thing. It's barely a second of footage." Raphael explained, his voice tight with urgency. "But it’s enough. Fans are analyzing it, trying to figure out who you are. Threads are blowing up. And..." He hesitated, his pause causing Y/N's eyebrows to furrow. "They’re connecting it to Matt."

A visceral reaction clawed its way to the surface, her breath catching in her throat.

Matt.

His name wasn’t just a word; it was a weapon, one capable of splitting her in two. The image of him - standing in the kitchen, his shoulders relaxed, his focus far removed from the chaos - flashed in her mind. He was a constant in her life, someone who turned her softer, someone she couldn’t afford to lose. The thought of him being dragged for life into her world - her dangerous, unforgiving world - sent a sharp pang of desperation through her entire being.

"Y/N?" Raphael's voice pulled her back, a glimpse of worry shining between his words.

"How far has it spread?" She asked, her tone glacial now.

"Far enough." He replied grimly. "If we don’t act now, it’s only a matter of time before someone makes the connection."

Her mind was a battlefield, each thought a calculated move in a war she refused to lose.

"I want it gone." She said, each word deliberate, unyielding. "Every post, every thread, every trace. Use whatever means necessary, bribery, threats, force. I don’t care how you do it. Just erase it."

"You got it, Boss." He didn’t hesitate, changing his demeanor abruptly, the sound of keystrokes filling the silence on his end.

"And Raphael." She added, her tone softening. "Leave nothing behind."

"It’ll be done." He affirmed, his voice steady. "Anything else?"

Her throat tightened, her guard faltering for just a heartbeat. She leaned against the edge of the bed, gripping the phone like a lifeline. She would have to tell Matt eventually, but not now. Not when her own composure was hanging by a thread.

"No." She said quietly, her voice betraying none of the chaos beneath. "I’ll handle the rest."

"Understood." The line clicked dead, leaving her alone with the silence.

Y/N lowered the phone, her hand trembling slightly as she set it down. She had always known this day might come, always known that her careful steps could fail, leaving Matt exposed to her world - or her to his. But knowing didn’t make the sting any less painful.

Her gaze drifted to the doorway, her thoughts spiraling to him. She despised herself in that moment; for the danger her presence brought to his life, for the quiet desperation she felt whenever she thought of losing him.

But she couldn’t lose him.

Straightening her spine, she forced the vulnerability back, locking it behind the iron walls she took years to build. She was a leader, a protector, a force to be secured with. And no one - not her enemies, not the nameless, faceless masses online - would take what was hers.

The air in the house had shifted, thickening with an invisible tension that Y/N could feel in her bones the moment she stepped out of Matt’s room.

Her sharp gaze swept across the living room first. Chris was slumped on the couch, looking almost guilty. His phone lay discarded beside him, screen dark, as though it had betrayed him. His face was pale, lips pressed into a tight line, and he stared at the floor with the kind of intensity that suggested he wished it would open up and swallow him whole.

Her eyes flicked toward the kitchen, her stomach knotting at the sight of Matt. He leaned against the edge of the table, arms crossed defensively over his broad chest, head bowed slightly. His brows were furrowed, his jaw clenched, and his warmth from minutes ago was replaced by a cold anger that radiated from him in waves.

"What happened?" She asked, her voice slicing through the oppressive quiet. There was no softness in her tone, only a commanding edge that left no room for staling.

Chris flinched at her words, his head snapping up to meet her gaze. His blue eyes darted toward Matt, searching for guidance, for an excuse, anything that might soften the blow. But Matt didn’t move. He remained locked in place, his intense focus on the floor as though the answer to their problems might be just there.

"Chris." Y/N prompted, her voice lower this time, but no less cutting as she stepped further into the room.

Chris exhaled shakily, rubbing the back of his neck as though the action might somehow delay the inevitable.

"Uh... people saw you?" He finally said, the words spilling out in a rush.

"Are you asking me or telling me?" She asked, her tone firm.

Chris hesitated, glancing helplessly at Matt again. When no help came, he pressed on, his words tumbling over each other.

"During the live stream, you showed up at the camera. It’s everywhere now. They’re asking who you are, Y/N. It’s blowing up..." His panicked voice seemed to start flying up. "I didn’t mean for it to happen. I didn’t even notice-"

"Enough." She interrupted, her tone quiet but laced with an authority that made Chris snap his mouth shut. "I know." She said simply. "It’s already being handled."

Chris blinked, confusion flickering across his face.

"Wait, you already know?"

"Yes." She replied, her gaze shifting briefly to Matt. "And it’s already being handled." She repeated.

Matt straightened at that, his concern breaking through the desperation that had kept him rigid. This was one of the moments when the weight of her world pressed down on him, and he felt scared. For him, for his brothers... for her. He knew that if her picture at his house fell into her enemies' hands, it was the end of peace for them.

"What does that mean, Y/N?" He asked, his voice low and tense.

"It means." She said evenly. "That my people is taking care of it, and soon enough, it'll be as if nothing had ever happened."

Matt’s brow furrowed further, and he took a step toward her, the movement slow but certain.

"And how exactly are they doing that?" He asked. "You're being careful, right?"

Her heart twisted at the concern in his voice, feeling like she could laugh, because Matt was the one who opened the front door for a bloody version of herself earlier, and he was the one who took care of her wounds - the ones that didn't even made her flinch.

"Silly boy." She started, her tone softening just enough to reassure him. "Y'know that I'm always careful."

Matt’s jaw clenched, his frustration evident.

"I don't like that." He said quietly, the weight of his words settling heavily between them.

Her posture wavered for the briefest of moments, but she forced herself to hold his gaze.

"What I need from you two and Nick." She said, addressing both him and Chris while keeping eye contact with Matt, completely ignoring his comment. "Is for you to be vigilant. For the next few days, you need to watch everything, what you post, where you go, who you talk to. Understood?"

Chris nodded quickly - even if she wasn’t looking at him, his expression contrite.

"Yeah. Of course. I’ll be careful."

Matt didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his intense gaze bored into hers, searching for cracks in her armor. Finally, he nodded, though the tension in his shoulders remained.

"Fine." He said, his voice quieter now. "But you’ll tell me if anything happens."

She hesitated, the truth forming on her tongue before she swallowed it down.

"I will." She lied instead. She wouldn't be crazy to involve him in any of this more than he already is.

His features softened slightly, but his worry lingered, etched into every line of his face.

"Good." He said. "Because I’m not letting anything happen to you."

She was the one who wasn't letting anything happen to him.

"I know."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The triplets were now on an empty parking lot, surrounded by the kind of darkness that usually set the stage for their filming sessions. The camera perched on the dashboard blinked red, capturing every move of them.

Matt sat in the driver’s seat, his hands tapping the bottom of the wheel as Chris gestured wildly from the passenger side. His animated voice carried through the car, weaving a story with Nick chiming in from the back seat.

But Matt wasn’t fully there.

His brothers could turn the most mundane story into book-like ones, and while he’d normally give his opinion on each one of them - when they let him, today his mind felt unusually restless. He couldn’t shake the brutal unease that had settled in his chest ever since Y/N’s warning the day before. Her words played over and over in his head: Watch your surroundings. Be careful.

Still, he had tried to shake it off. She worried about him; he got that. But the longer the evening dragged on, the heavier that knot in his chest grew. His brothers’ laughter ricocheted around the car, but the sound barely registered.

"... if we take a right, then a left, and there's a guy down there walking his dog, I'm gonna freak out." Chris was saying, his voice rising dramatically.

"And then we did it, and the guy was walking his dog." Nick completed, widening his eyes to the camera to emphasize it all.

Their voices faded into background noise as Matt’s gaze traveled to a shadowed corner of the lot. He couldn’t shake the prickling sensation that something - or someone - was watching them. His hands tightened on the steering wheel as his mind replayed Y/N’s warning for the thousandth time.

You’re being paranoid, he told himself. It’s just a parking lot.

But paranoia had its place in Y/N’s world.

It was Nick who broke the illusion of calm.

"Hey." He said sharply, his voice cutting through the laughter. His posture changed in an instant, stiffening as his eyes fixed on something outside their car.

"What?" Chris asked, his smile faltering as he followed Nick’s gaze.

"Don’t make it obvious." Nick hissed, leaning slightly forward. "But look. SUV, two o’clock. Isn't it parked way too close for how empty this lot is?"

Matt’s pulse quickened. His eyes darted to the rearview mirror, and there it was, a sleek, black vehicle angled toward them. Its windows were so dark they might as well have been painted. Everything about it felt wrong.

Chris turned in his seat, ignoring Nick’s plea for subtlety.

"Weird." He muttered. "Why park there when the whole lot’s empty?"

"That's what I'm saying." Nick said, his voice lower.

Matt’s jaw tightened, his earlier unease turning into cold certainty.

"Do you think it’s a fan?" Chris asked, his voice tinged with forced optimism.

Matt shook his head, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

"Doesn’t feel like a fan."

The SUV sat unmoving, its presence heavy and oppressive. Matt’s thoughts spun as he tried to make sense of it. Y/N had warned him about things that could happen since day one, but she hadn’t given details. She rarely did. Keeping him in the dark was her way of protecting him, but right now, he wished he knew more.

"We should leave." Nick said urgently after some minutes of silence.

Chris frowned.

"Leave? We’re in the middle of filming-"

"Forget the video." Matt snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. "Something’s off."

The tension in the car thickened. Nick leaned forward again, his breath brushing the back of Matt’s neck as he watched the SUV through the rear window.

Then, as if sensing that it was seen, the door of the black vehicle opened.

"Guys." Nick warned sharply, his voice tight with alarm.

Matt’s heart slammed against his ribs as a man stepped out. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a tailored black suit that screamed professional. His face was obscured by dark sunglasses, even in the dim light. Everything about him was strange, the way he moved, slow and purposeful, like he had all the time in the world.

The man stood by the SUV for a moment, then began walking toward their car.

"Go, Matt." Chris urged, his voice strained.

Matt didn’t need to be told twice. His fingers fumbled with the ignition, the engine roaring to life.

"What’s he doing?" Chris asked, staring at the approaching man.

"Doesn’t matter." Matt ground out. "We’re not sticking around to find out."

He threw the car into reverse, his movements swift but controlled. The tires screeched as he backed out of the parking spot, his eyes flicking between the mirrors and the shadowy figure stopping behind them.

"Is he following us?" Nick asked, his voice tight with panic.

Matt didn’t answer immediately, focusing on navigating the lot. But as he turned onto the main road, he caught a glimpse of the SUV’s headlights flaring to life in the rearview mirror.

"Yes." He said grimly, accelerating into the main road without looking to his side, forcing himself to ignore the loud and random honk that followed his action.

Nick swore under his breath, his hands gripping the edge of Chris's back seat, grimacing.

Matt’s mind raced, calculating their options. He didn’t know who was in that car, but he had a sinking feeling that Y/N did. Whatever this was, it wasn’t random.

And as the SUV closed the distance between them, Matt realized that the shadows he’d been looking over his shoulder for weren’t just paranoia.

They were real. And they were coming for him.

Chris twisted in his seat, his gaze fixed on the ominous car trailing them. His voice cracked with a mixture of frustration and alarm.

"Okay, now that’s not just weird. That’s bad."

"No shit." Matt muttered, keeping his tense posture. "Buckle up." He growled, his tone leaving no room for argument, the adrenaline pumping through his veins like a drug. Before his brothers could react, he slammed his foot down on the accelerator, their KIA lunging forward with a roar.

"What the hell are you doing?" Chris shouted, his hands darting to the door handle as he braced himself against the sudden burst of speed.

"Losing them." Matt ground out through clenched teeth, his voice laced with grim determination. The engine roared, the car slicing through the sparse traffic.

The SUV responded immediately, surging forward with precision, its movements aggressive and calculated. It wasn’t just following them. It was hunting them, and it wasn’t hiding it anymore.

"This isn’t a movie, Matt!" Nick yelled from the backseat, his voice tinged with panic as the car swerved dangerously close to a parked sedan.

"Feels like one." Chris muttered under his breath, though his usual joking tone was replaced with raw tension. His fingers dug into the fabric of his seat, knuckles bone white.

Matt’s focus was razor-sharp, his mind calculating every turn, every gap, every possible escape route. The city blurred around them, streetlights streaking past like shooting stars.

He maneuvered with a precision that bordered on reckless, the heavy van sliding between vehicles with inches to spare. Years of navigating chaotic LA streets had sharpened his instincts like a knife’s edge, but even he wasn’t sure how long he could keep this up.

"They’re not giving up." Nick said, his voice a strained whisper.

Then, out of nowhere, a flash of silver caught Matt’s peripheral vision.

"Matt! Fuck- watch out!" Chris screamed, his voice cracking as a Audi RS7 tore into the intersection from their right to their left, leaving a perfect trail of white smoke behind, its polished body gleaming under the fluorescent haze of the streetlights.

Time seemed to slow. Matt’s heart slammed against his ribcage as he yanked the steering wheel, the van skidding violently to the side, definitely scraping a car or two. Their camera fell from its place with a force that told them itself that it broke. Tires screeched, the acrid smell of burnt rubber filling the air as the RS7 narrowly missed their front bumper by mere inches.

For a small moment, Matt thought they were done for. They would die in the hands of unknown, sick people. But the Audi didn’t slow. Its driver - whoever they were - handled the car with perfect precision, swerving past them.

"What the hell was that?" Nick gasped, his voice trembling as he craned his neck to look back.

"I don’t know." Matt muttered, his chest heaving as he tried to process what had just happened. His foot hovered over the brake, instinct warring with the need to keep moving.

The RS7 didn’t stop. Instead, it sped straight for the SUV, its engine roaring like a beast. It cut off the larger vehicle with a series of calculated moves, herding it like a sheepdog corralling a wayward flock.

Chris leaned between the front seats, looking back, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"It’s... helping us." He paused, his mind racing. "Do you think it’s one of Y/N’s people?"

Nick didn’t take his eyes off the unfolding spectacle.

"Who the hell drives like that?"

Matt didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His thoughts were a chaotic storm, torn between taking advantage of the distraction and trying to piece together what was happening.

The SUV, once so powerful, was now on the defensive, the Audi forcing the larger vehicle toward the shoulder of the road.

"They’ve got this." Matt said, his voice tight as he pressed down on the gas pedal. The van surged forward, putting as much distance as possible between them and the chaos in the rearview mirror.

Chris turned back to face him, his expression a mix of awe and unease.

"You think this is over?"

But that hope lasted only for a minute as the night exploded with sound. The first gunshot rang out like a thunderclap, ringing in the enclosed space of the car, followed by honks and screams. Chris ducked instinctively, his hands flying to cover his ears as a yell escaped his throat.

Nick swore loudly, his voice almost drowned out by the second shot that followed in quick succession. Matt barely registered the sound of it before the driver-side window exploded beside him.

The world stopped.

Glass shards sprayed into the car like a violent glitter storm. Matt flinched instinctively, his head turning away as the jagged pieces tore through the air. His hoodie absorbed most of the impact, but a sharp sting grazed his cheek. Warmth spread across his skin, and the metallic scent made him realize that it was blood.

"Shit!" Matt yelled, his voice shaking as he tried to regain control of the car. His hands were trembling so hard it felt like they would break.

Chris screamed, ducking lower in his seat.

"What the fuck?!" His hands flew to his head, shielding himself.

Nick, in the backseat, was wide-eyed and pale, his voice cracking as he shouted.

"Are they shooting at us?! Why are they shooting at us?!"

Before anyone could fully process the first attack, a third shot rang out. This time, the bullet struck the back of the van with a sickening thud, the impact reverberating through the vehicle. The car jerked slightly from the force, and Nick let out a strangled yelp, gripping the back of Chris’s seat as if it might protect him.

Matt's widened eyes found the rearview; catching just in time the Audi reacting to the shooting and executing a perfect spin, its tires screeching as it turned in a tight circle. The maneuver was so seamless that it felt like a dance. As the car straightened out, it began driving in reverse, keeping pace with the SUV.

From the driver’s side of the Audi, a hand emerged, gripping a handgun with deadly precision. The barrel gleamed under the pale moonlight for only a moment before the first shot was fired.

BANG.

The bullet hit the SUV’s hood, sending sparks flying into the night.

"We're going to die." Chris choked out, his voice raw with panic. "Matt, what do we do?"

"I don’t know!" Matt snapped, his voice sharp as his focus stayed on the road. "I’m just trying to keep us alive!"

BANG.

The second shot took out one of the SUV’s headlights, shrouding it in uneven shadows.

"Is this about yesterday?" Chris asked, looking over his shoulder at the fireworks created by golden bullets.

"What about yesterday?" Nick asked, his voice being cut by other loud sound.

Matt didn’t answer, but the hardened look in his eyes said it all, his eyes running around the street full of scared people and desperate cars.

The Audi’s driver didn’t stop behind them, firing round after round with precision, shielding their van. Each shot forced the SUV to swerve and falter, its pursuit growing more desperate by the second.

Suddenly, a new set of headlights appeared in the rearview mirror, drawing closer at an alarming speed, maneuvering between random cars. Matt’s stomach sank as the black Nissan GT-R quickly closed the gap between them.

"Great, another one." Nick muttered, leaning forward to get a better look.

"Wait." Matt said, narrowing his eyes as the GT-R came closer. It wasn’t chasing them. It was moving with purpose, calculated, and controlled. And then, from the side street, another car emerged.

The third one sped toward them, a Dodge Charger, unmistakable and a far cry from subtle. It closed the gap with ease, pulling alongside Matt’s car.

Chris frowned.

"Matt, who the hell-"

The black window of the Charger lowered, revealing Walsh, one of Y/N's trusted bodyguards who he always saw close by, his expression as stoic and sharp as ever. He glanced at Matt briefly with a knowing gaze before lifting his hand, making a quick, sharp motion - a signal.

"I guess we are following you, then." Matt muttered, his voice resolute as he adjusted his grip on the wheel.

"What?" Nick asked, his tone a mix of confusion and disbelief. "Follow him? How do we know-"

"It’s Walsh." Matt interrupted, already easing off the accelerator slightly. "He’s one of Y/N’s people. He’s here to help."

Walsh accelerated, cutting smoothly in front of Matt’s car and taking the lead. Without hesitation, Matt followed, mimicking his movements as Walsh led them onto a side street, away from the main roads.

From behind, the black GT-R repositioned itself, falling into place directly behind the triplets’ car. It felt like they were being shepherded, boxed in with purpose.

Chris glanced nervously at the vehicles surrounding them.

"This feels like a crazy dream."

"Well, it’s very real to me." Matt muttered, his eyes darting between Walsh’s Charger and the mirrors to keep track of the GT-R.

The streets grew quieter as Walsh led them further from the city center, the cold air of the night invading the insides of the van through the broken window. The Charger weaved through back roads and alleys with practiced ease, its taillights a beacon for Matt to follow.

"Where is he taking us?" Nick asked, his voice breaking the tense silence.

"Not home." Chris replied. "That’s for sure."

They drove for another ten minutes before the Charger finally slowed as they approached a gated property on the outskirts of the city. Walsh leaned out of the window, flashing a badge at the intercom. The gates creaked open, and the small convoy filed through, disappearing into the privacy of the estate.

The driveway was lined with towering trees, their shadows dancing across the cars as they came to a stop. Matt parked behind Walsh’s Charger, the Nissan pulling in behind him to complete the formation.

The silence in the car was deafening as they sat there, processing what had just happened while the group of man dressed in all black suits backed out of both cars, moving around their KIA.

"What now?" Chris finally asked, breaking the quiet.

Matt exhaled, his hands still gripping the wheel tightly as he turned to look at his brothers, his skin itching with the dried blood.

"I don't know."

Then, cutting through the oppressive quiet, the distant roar of an engine reached their ears, growing louder by the second. Matt’s head whipped toward the gates just as the same Audi from earlier burst through.

The car moved with predatory intent, speeding down the driveway toward them. The headlights blazed like twin daggers, slicing through the darkness, and as it neared, it showed no signs of slowing.

The sleek vehicle skidded to a halt mere feet from where Walsh’s Charger was parked, its tires kicking up gravel in a chaotic spray. The door of the RS7 flung open with no ceremony, and at the second that Y/N stepped out, Matt was opening his own car door.

Of course, she was the first to find him. How could she not be? The GPS she’d insisted on slipping into his horse necklace after the last close call wasn’t just a precaution, it was a leash, one she pulled the second something went wrong.

He hadn’t even argued when she’d done it. He’d learned by now that Y/N always had a way of knowing where he was, no matter how far or how fast he tried to outrun trouble.

Her heels clicked sharply against the gravel as she strode toward Walsh, her every movement a calculated strike.

Matt watched her from his standing place, his body still trembling from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. His legs felt weak, the rush of survival not yet dissipating, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

She was magnetic, terrifying, and commanding all at once. His fingers twitched at his sides, unsure if he should stop her, but something inside him begged to watch the whole scene unfold.

Y/N’s expression was a storm, her lips curled into a snarl as she closed the distance between herself and Walsh, who was standing near the driver of the Charger. The man had just been speaking, his voice low and controlled, but the second he saw her approaching, he fell silent, his posture stiffening. He wasn’t a coward - years by her side had hardened him - but even he couldn’t deny the raw, violent fury in her eyes.

"Walsh!" Her voice cracked like a whip, slicing through the air.

The men around her stiffened but kept their gazes forward, trained on the horizon. They knew better than to interfere and knew the rules that governed her world.

Y/N didn’t repeat herself. She didn’t grant second chances.

Walsh turned, his face already pale, though he tried to maintain his composure.

"Boss, I can expl-"

She didn’t let him finish. In a blur of motion, she reached for her knife, the familiar silver weight of it reassuring in her palm, small droplets of blood stained its holder, being there for a long time now. Before Walsh could react, she had him pinned against the side of the car, her arm pressed against his chest with force, knocking his breath away. The knife’s blade kissed his throat, the edge cutting just enough to draw a thin line of blood that trickled down his skin.

"You dare speak?" She hissed, her voice low and venomous. "You fucking dare?"

"Boss, I-"

"Shut your fucking mouth." Her voice was a growl, more animal than human, the kind of sound that made grown men cower. "You had one job. One fucking job! Protect them. Keep them alive. And you-" She pushed the blade harder against his neck, the blood now dripping faster, staining the pristine collar of his shirt. "Fucking failed.”

Matt’s stomach churned as he watched, his chest tightening with every word. Her rage was consuming, and while he’d seen her like this many times before, it always felt like the first time.

Nick had turned away, his face pale. He hated blood and hated violence, and now, he stared at the trees as if they might somehow shield him from the scene unfolding before him. Chris, on the other hand, kept his eyes glued to the ground, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He still carried fear for her when she acted like that, so he didn’t dare look up.

But Y/N wasn’t done. Her grip on Walsh’s collar tightened, and she yanked him forward, slamming him back against the car. The sound reverberated, as if she wanted the car's bodywork to deform under the weight of his body. And if it did, she would make him fix it with his bare hands.

"Where the fuck were my men?" She demanded, her voice rising now, echoing against the estate’s high walls. "I left five of my best men guarding them. Where the fuck were they, Walsh?"

Walsh’s lips trembled, his composure faltering for the first time.

"They’re dead." He admitted, his voice hoarse.

Y/N’s eyes darkened, the fire in her gaze burning hotter.

"What?"

"They killed them." Walsh continued, his voice steadying as he spoke. "All five of them. The second the brothers left the house, they were dead. By the time I got the call, it was already over."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, but Y/N didn’t flinch.

"I didn't thou-"

"Shut up!" She muttered, her free hand slamming against the car beside his head, her knuckles grazing the metal. "Shut the fuck up! Where the fuck were you? You’re supposed to anticipate this kind of shit. To have eyes everywhere. And instead, what do I get? Five man dead and a fucking alarm telling me they’re being hunted!"

Walsh kept silent. His hands stayed at his sides, fists clenched, but he didn’t dare move.

"You think I keep you around to stand there looking pretty, huh? You think I pay you to sit on your ass while my people are being slaughtered?"

"No- ma'am-"

"You’re lucky I don’t kill you right here." Her tone dropped into a deadly whisper, more chilling than her shouts. "You’re lucky I don’t slit your throat and leave your corpse here for the crows."

Matt’s breath hitched at her words, his chest tightening as he watched her, feeling a strange mix of fear and something deeper - something that made his pulse quicken.

"You’re worthless." She hissed. "A fucking liability. And if I ever-" She fist his hair, slamming the back of his head against the car for emphasis, almost begging for a concussion. "Ever see you fuck up like this again, I won’t hesitate to kill you. Do you understand me?"

"Yes." Walsh croaked, his voice barely audible because he does understand it. Because he knows that she could kill him in seconds with her bare hands if she wanted to. Putting the triplets brothers in danger could drive her to burn the whole world down.

"I said, do you fucking understand me?" She shouted, her voice echoing across the estate.

"Yes!" Walsh gasped, his face ashen.

Satisfied - for now - Y/N finally stepped back, her hand still gripping the knife tightly. Blood coated the blade, glinting in the faint light. She wiped it on Walsh’s shirt, the act casual and dismissive, before putting it back at her hip.

He should be grateful that he still had his head glued to his body and that she didn't treat him like one of her enemies. Because if she had, his organs would probably be scattered across the front yard.

Y/N adjusted her blazer, her movements sharp, and turned on her heel. Her security detail remained impassive, and their faces were unreadable as they stood at attention. They knew better than to question her.

"I want to know who's the son of a bitch who dared to go after what's mine. I don’t care how many men we have to send. You find him. And I want him, and anyone else involved in this shit, dead. You hear me? Dead. No fucking exceptions." Y/N's tone was ice, colder than the Siberian winters, and it sent a chill through the men standing nearby. "Now, get the fuck out of my sight."

The bodyguards didn’t hesitate, retreating without a word, their heads low. Even Walsh - still pressing a hand to the bleeding cut on his neck - scrambled back, keeping his distance.

Y/N didn’t so much as glance at them. They were beneath her attention now. Her focus was singular, her sharp eyes scanning the scene before her as she stalked toward the three brothers.

Nick and Chris stood stiffly by the car, their postures tense, the weight of the night etched into their faces.

Y/N stopped in front of them, and for a moment, she said nothing, her icy gaze raking over their bodies like a surgeon searching for injuries.

"Nick." She called sharply, a softness hidden behind her tone.

Nick looked up at her, his hands playing with the bottom of his sweater. Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized him.

"You’re not injured?"

"No." He muttered, shaking his head. "I’m fine."

She turned her attention to Chris, her cold stare unwavering.

"Chris?"

Chris hesitated, swallowing hard before answering.

"I’m fine too."

Y/N’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before she nodded curtly, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Inside." She ordered. "Grace's here, find her. She’ll take care of you."

Nick and Chris exchanged a brief glance, neither daring to argue. They gave her a quick nod before turning and walking toward the mansion to look for Y/N's maid, the one who treated them like a loving mother. Y/N’s eyes followed them until they disappeared through the front doors, their figures swallowed by the shadows of the estate.

Only then did she turn her attention to Matt.

He was standing a few feet away, his arms hanging limply at his sides, looking like a wall in front of his side of the car, his face pale but his eyes wide with worry. His breath hitched as she approached, her movements deliberate, predatory.

"Y/N-"

"Quiet." She snapped, cutting him off as she reached for his face. Her hands, rough and calloused, cupped his cheeks, forcing him to meet her gaze. Her touch was firm, almost harsh, as she tilted his head this way and that, her eyes narrowing as she examined him closely.

Matt stood frozen under her scrutiny, his heart hammering in his chest. He felt small under her intense gaze, like a child caught misbehaving.

"I’m fine." He tried to say, his voice barely above a whisper. "Really, I-"

"Shut up." Her tone was sharp. Her thumb brushed over the dried blood that covered the small cut on his upper cheek, and her lips curled into a sneer. "Fine? You’re fine, you little shit? You think I should believe this?"

Matt swallowed hard, his throat dry. He wanted to protest, to reassure her, but the look in her eyes stopped him.

"You’re a fucking idiot." She spat, her voice low and venomous. "A fucking brat. You knew something was wrong, and you didn’t call me. You didn’t fucking call me." Her grip on his face tightened, just enough to make his breath hitch.

"I thought I could handle it." He muttered, his voice breaking. "I didn’t want to bother you."

Y/N’s laugh was sharp, bitter.

"Handle it?" She repeated, her accent wrapping around the words like a blade. "You thought you could handle it? You? Alone? Against men with guns?"

Matt looked down, unable to meet her gaze.

"I-"

"Do you know what I should do to you?" She hissed, her voice dropping lower. "I should kill you for this. For almost fucking dying on me. For being so goddamn reckless." Her fingers brushed against the necklace around his neck.

Matt’s lips twitched into a small, nervous smile.

"Thank god you put this thing on me then, huh?"

Y/N’s eyes darkened, her lips curling into a snarl.

"You think this is funny? You think I do this because I enjoy babysitting you?" She shoved him back slightly, her hands still gripping his face. "If it weren’t for this-" She tapped the tracker, her voice rising. "I wouldn’t have known. I wouldn’t have found you."

"I know." He whispered, his voice trembling.

"You’re fucking stupid." She muttered, her tone quieter but no less sharp. "You’ll be the death of me, you know that?"

Matt nodded, his cheeks flushing under her intense gaze because he knew. He knew that he was her weakest stop, the one who could make her lose her mind without consequences.

"I’m sorry." He said softly.

Y/N sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly as her hand softened its grip on his face.

She let her gaze actually register his state, noticing his still trembling hands gripping the bottom of her jacket, and her jaw tightened. For all her strength and control, seeing him shaken dug into her chest like a dull blade.

"You really should’ve called me." She repeated, her tone no longer scolding but laced with a quiet plea this time. Her fingers moved from his jaw to his hair, threading through the strands in a gesture that was both tender and grounding. "Do you hear me?"

Matt smiled slightly, trying to ease her - and his - tension.

"I’m okay, dove." He murmured, risking using her favorite pet name, his voice low and calm, though it wavered slightly. "Just a little shaken up. A cut or two from the broken window. But... you saved me. Like you always do."

Her hand faltered for a moment in his hair as his words settled over her, turning her head slightly, breaking their gaze as if the vulnerability in his voice had pierced through her armor.

But Matt wasn’t about to let her retreat. His hand came up, his fingers gentle as they took her chin, forcing her to look at him again.

"I’m fine, Y/N." He said firmly, his voice carrying a quiet conviction that made her chest tighten. "Really. You don’t have to keep punishing me or you for this."

Her lips parted, a protest hovering on the edge, but he didn’t let her speak. Instead, he pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in a hug that was warm, strong, and grounding. Y/N stiffened for a moment before melting against him - in the way that she only let herself do in his arms, her hands clutching at his back as if he might disappear if she let go.

"I don’t want to see you in the line of fire because of me ever again. Do you understand me?" Her voice was a whisper against his chest, rough and laden with emotion.

Matt’s hands moved soothingly from her hips to her waist and her back, his touch steady.

"Y/N." He began, his voice gentle but insistent. "You need to stop blaming yourself. None of this is your fault. It’s just how things are. I get that. I chose to stay by your side, knowing exactly what it meant."

She shook her head against him, her arms tightening around his waist.

"You don't understand, I could’ve lost you tonight." She said, her voice breaking in a way that she despised. "I can’t-"

"You didn’t." He interrupted, leaning down to rest his chin on top of her head. "You didn’t lose me. You won’t lose me. Not tonight. Not ever."

The sincerity in his tone made her chest ache, and she closed her eyes, letting herself press closer. She nosed along his jaw, breathing him in, her mind desperate for a piece of peace amidst the chaos. His scent - clean and familiar - grounded her in a way nothing else could.

"You know." She murmured after a moment, her voice quieter now, almost teasing. "It’s your fault. You got me hooked from day one, making me worry too much."

Matt let out a low, warm laugh, his breath tickling the top of her head.

"Lies." He said softly, his tone playful but affectionate. "You wanted to kill me for the first few months we knew each other."

Y/N let out a quiet scoff, a small smirk tugging at her lips despite herself.

"It doesn’t mean I didn't want to have you to me." She admitted, though the sharpness in her voice was covered with affection. "You were insufferable, you know? Still are."

He leaned down further, brushing his nose against hers.

"Yeah, well, you wouldn’t have it any other way." He murmured.

She didn’t respond, but the faint, almost imperceptible curve of her lips was answer enough. Her fingers wrapped around his hoodie strings, bringing him closer until their lips touched, the force of her kiss taking him off guard.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss meant to soothe or console. It was possessive, claiming him in a way that made it clear he wasn’t just hers by circumstance. He was hers by choice.

Her hand slid up the back of his neck, fingers back to threading through his hair as she deepened the kiss, desperate to taste all of him as a way of reassurance, and Matt melted into her without hesitation.

When she finally pulled away, her lips still slightly parted, Matt stared at her, his expression a mix of surprise and arousal. She smirked faintly, wiping her thumb across the corner of his mouth before leaning back, leaving him dazed.

"Uh..." He exhaled slowly, trying to collect himself, though his heart was racing faster than he cared to admit. "I think I need you to get my window fixed." He gestured toward the gaping hole where his window used to be, right behind his back, shards of glass still clinging stubbornly to the edges.

The response came so casually that it almost didn’t register at first.

"No." Y/N said dismissively. "I’ll just buy you another car."

Matt blinked, his jaw dropping as he turned to face her.

"You’ll what?"

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puppywilliams · 2 months ago

Note

could you write about streamer abby 🥺

streamer abby

a/n: i literally love this au so much. i kept thinking about this req so i wrote this quickly even though its 2am °՞(ᗒᗣᗕ)՞° sorry if its lazy or it has typos!! lmk if u want more of streamer abby because id rlly love to expand on this au! im so tired so thank you for reading <3

warnings: Could be taken suggestively, size difference.

you have a simple life now that you’re in your early twenties, which is way earlier than you thought you would, but when your wife is loaded from twitch money whos to complain? abby takes care of you, you take care of abby.

she buys you pretty clothes and dainty jewelry. loving to see you spin around for her in a new outfit she had picked out and paid for herself. eyeing you up, asking herself how she got this lucky. if you needed something it was taken care of, if you wanted something, it was yours. sometimes she would buy you gifts just because she wants to treat her gorgeous wife. setting a gift bag down on the table and watching your eyes light up with curiosity.

when abby gets recognized it public it normally doesn’t bother you, it happens so much you expect it at this point, but that doesn’t mean you don’t watch where someones hand is placed, or how comfortable they immediately get with Your wife. putting you in a sour mood for the rest of the outing. abby watches you sulk the whole way home knowing you’ll get over it.

you often bring her dinner while shes streaming, knocking on her office door waiting until she lifts up one side of her headset and calls out “come in!” you walk in and set her plate on down carefully on her desk

“thank you, baby” she says softly and kisses you on the cheek. her chat floods as normal, not-so-painfully forcing you to sit in abby’s lap looking pretty and talking to her rambling chat while she queues up for her next quick play on overwatch. answering questions, saying hi to people you recognize from other occasions, thanking donators, all while abby mindlessly stares off onto the screen resting her head on your shoulder and wrapping her arms around you. her chats probably more obsessed with you than they are abby, but definitely not more than abby’s obsessed with you.

on some nights its late, and you’re watching a show in your shared bedroom. abby’s “working late” which is essentially her just screaming at the top of her lungs as she streams a horror game for the 5th night in a row. it echos the walls from behind you. it does bother you sometimes when you’re trying to sleep and she wont shut the hell up. but its worth it when she crawls into bed nearly 30 minutes later smothering you in kisses and apologizing for keeping you up. you love it, you’re addicted to it even. you’d let her scream every night until the sunrises for her to talk to you in that sweet raspy voice of hers you keep telling her shes gonna lose if she keeps it up.

she wraps her strong arms around your frame, molding you like putty. lazily kissing your neck. “i know its late…i’m sorry..” she mumbles into your skin so delicately. abby was always so Gentle with you, for a woman who could bench press you, she sure did treat you like you were made glass, like if she hurt you, she Herself would bleed. “‘s kay..” you mumble back to her. she kisses your forehead one last time before closing her eyes. fingers running through your hair as you both fall asleep. it was a routine, a beautiful one you loved. you’d do it all again tomorrow, and thank a higher power that it was possible.

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gyll-yee-haw · 10 months ago

Text

Dalton's rules

Elwood Dalton x reader

Annon requested something intense with our brand new boyfriend... well, here we go <3

A/N: In this fic he's still fighting professionally

Warnings: masturbation (f), dom!Dalton, Somnophilia, cum in underwear, degradation, edging, pussy slapping, choking, more slapping, creampie...

Like 2.4k words

---

The first rule was clear. Some days your boyfriend would get everyone screaming his name, except for you. Fight nights... how you hated them! Not only you had to wait anxiously for him to come out of that octagon alive, but he just refused to touch you afterwards.

He claimed it's for your own safety. He just gets too worked up during his fights... if he couldn't mesure his strength, if he ever lost control around you, he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

You were fine with it, most days. Well, of course you felt like rewarding your champion, but that could wait... the stress you went through during the fight and the days of preparation got you too tired to complain about it.

Well, most days...

There was this specific occasion, a very important fight for his career. Dalton had been training for so long, you felt absolutely neglected. Being the supportive girlfriend you are, you didn't say anything, though... you knew how important you were for him, and if he heard you were feeling like that, he would feel like the worst person in the world. And not only you didn't want to hurt his feelings, you didn't want to distract him and cause him to break any bones.

All you could do was wait.

Honestly? It wasn't that bad. Dalton always made it up for you. The days after his fights, before he started preparing for the next one, were the BEST. He got so clingy. He wouldn't let you go anywhere without him. His scary fighter face would be hidden under the sweetest permanent smile and kind doe eyes he only had for you. He would use his fat paychecks to spoil you. Buy you new jewelry for every fight he wins. Take you for dinner anywhere in this planet. And God... fuck you against every surface he saw.

Maybe it's because you had those things in mind and got too eager... maybe it's because this specific time he went too long without touching you... you weren't sure about why, all you knew was that the night after he won the fight, you were absolutely unable to sleep.

The discomfort between your legs was unbearable. You kept tossing and turning in bed, and he was so exhausted, so deep asleep, that not even your restless state right beside him was enough to wake him up.

You sighed frustratedly, looking at his face. God, he was so beautiful you felt like crying. It didn't help the way he never wore anything but those black boxers to sleep.

He was so tired... maybe he wouldn't notice if you touched yourself...

Yeah, that's the second rule. You're not touching yourself without his permission.

But... he would understand, right? Only this time...

Your eyes were glued to his face as your hand slid inside your underwear.

You were dangerously close to him, his body pressed against yours...

It felt like you were committing a crime. Unfortunately, that only turned you on more.

You were so fucking wet you were afraid he would wake up from the sounds your pussy was making.

Well, he didn't fully wake up, but something in him did. You froze when you felt him move. Except that he didn't really move. What you felt was his cock hardening against your thigh.

You wanted to cry. He felt so deliciously hard... what a fucking waste, you needed him so badly... you rubbed your clit so hard, but that wasn't it...

You might have lost your mind just for a second. But the next thing you knew was that you were grinding against his erection like your life depended on it. At this point, all you wanted was for him to wake up and fucking take you.

He didn't wake up at once. As he gained consciousness, he was fully convinced that was all a dream. He remained on that half asleep/half awake land, without moving a muscle. And you kept grinding on his clothed cock so fucking good. So deliciously hard... leaking more and more and... oh shit.

His eyes shot open as his orgasm started to build.

"Shit! Y/N, what the fuck?!" He grunted, voice still so sleepy...

You didn't stop. He grabbed your arm harder than he would like to as he filled his underwear with cum. So much cum it leaked all over your ass as you kept rubbing it against him.

"Oh for fucks sake..." He pushed you away. Fucking pushed you away. He had NEVER done that. "Look at the fucking mess you've made..."

His harsh touch didn't hurt half as much as the loss of contact.

"Dalton... please..." You whined. "Didn't cum..."

"Yeah? Good." He grabbed your hand, forcing you to stop touching yourself. "What the fuck was that?"

"M'sorry..." You squeezed your thighs together. "Needed you too badly..."

"That's the worst behavior I have ever seen in my life." He took a deep breath. "And you couldn't have pissed me off at a worst time."

You had no words to defend yourself. It was true, you broke two rules at once.

"I am so fucking exhausted... and have wake up in the middle of the night to deal with a brat." He continued, his grip still burning on your arm.

"Baby... please... I'm so sorry..." You insisted, burying your face in his chest. Your hands went to his abs, tracing it slowly and he tensed up.

It was obviously not only difficult to you, those days without any touch. But he would rather suffer a bit than risk hurting you or losing the fight.

"Oh my sweet girl..." He cooed, hand stroking the back of your head. "You know I have to be harsh sometimes, yeah?"

You looked at his face again. His sweet expression kept you calm, but his words didn't.

"You understand that I have to punish you right now, don't you?" He asked nicely, like you had a choice. "That I do what I do because I need to keep you obedient..."

You nodded shyly.

"Good girl." He sighed. "Tell me, my princess... when you were touching yourself without my permission... you didn't cum, right?"

You shook your head quickly.

"Do you need to?" He asked and you nodded immediately. "Yeah? How bad? Use your words for me, darling."

"So bad, needed it for so long..." You explained, eyes filling with tears.

"Hey, hey, hey..." His hand went to your cheek, stroking it lightly. "You need cock so bad you're gonna cry, angel?"

You felt humiliated. All you did was look at him. He had a huge smirk on his face.

"That's fucking pathetic." He mocked. "Spread your legs for me."

When you did, he ripped your underwear like it was nothing, throwing it somewhere in the room. The way his eyes landed on your pussy made your stomach churn.

He knew you were ready, so he immediately shoved two fingers inside, bending them, rubbing your walls just so right...

Your eyes immediately rolled back. You were so close before he caught you, it surely wouldn't take you too long to get there now.

"Does this feel good, baby?" He asked, fingers never stopping. "Is that what you needed?"

You nodded eagerly, hips moving uncontrollably as you felt yourself getting there... you grabbed the sheets and closed your eyes, god, you were right there, growing and growing and growing in your belly...

"Too fucking bad, slut." He said, removing his fingers from you at once. His sweet tone was nowhere to be seen now.

Before you could start crying at the loss of contact, he gave your pussy a loud slap. You gasped. You were used to Dalton being rough, but not that rough.

"What did you expect?" He mocked you again. "That I would just solve your fucking problem? Do you think you deserve that?"

When you didn't answer, he slapped your pussy again. "Thought I asked you a fucking question."

"I don't deserve it!" You admitted. "But I did what I did because I was too desperate... because I need you too badly..."

"You just had to wait until the morning, you know that." He explained.

"Couldn't wait... I couldn't." You whined. "Slap me again, please?"

His eyes widened. "You're trying to come from your punishment? Do you have any idea the kind of trouble that would put you in?"

"No... not thinking, just need you..." You moaned, arms wrapping around his neck, bringing him close. "Come on, baby... don't you miss me?"

"Y/N..." He groaned. "Can't do this right now."

"Why?" Your eyebrows furrowed.

"Because I'm fucking mad at you." He shut his eyes, like he was trying to tell himself that. He needed to tell himself, because he was getting hard again.

"No, you're not mad at me for real." You insisted. "Come on..."

"Am I not mad for real?" He raised his eyebrows.

You bit your lip and shook your head.

"Do you think I'm in the mood for playing?" He asked, looking at the clock on the nightstand. "At 3am?"

"I'm sorry... I won't do it again..." You pouted.

He sighed, his eyes on your lips as he licked his. He rested his hand around your neck as a warning to stay still while he leaned to kiss you. You melted into the kiss, hips trying to grind against his leg. His hand tightened around your neck.

"Quiet." He said against your lips.

He pressed his body against yours and you could feel how extremely hard he was again already. You had never met a man with that stamina. Well, everyone knew there was no other man like him...

"Listen to me. Carefully." He said, pressing his erection harder to your core, making you roll your eyes in lust. "I'm gonna fuck you now and then I'm going back to sleep. And if you wake me up again, I'm not gonna even look in your direction for a week, do you understand?"

You nodded with a certain difficulty, considering how his hand squeezed your neck.

"Do. You. Understand?" He asked again.

"Yes, sir." You replied weakly.

"Smart little brat." He chuckled. "Turn around."

He stood up to remove his underwear and you laid on your belly as fast as possible.

The sharp slap that laid on your ass didn't surprise you the slightest, but you still moaned.

He pulled you closer like you were nothing and started stroking his cock. He knew you were more than ready, but his cock was still a bit sensitive from the harsh stimulation you kinda... forced him into. So he entered you slowly, inch by inch. You couldn't believe how good it felt.

"Fucking missed this pussy, baby, I'll admit that." He said, movements starting slow, but deep. "Just wanted it to be more romantic, you know? Take you somewhere nice... in a pretty dress I'd ruin later..."

"M'sorry..." you cried out. When he was that deep inside you, he could get you apologizing for things you didn't even do.

"Yeah, but my girl doesn't like romance, right?" He grabbed your waist and started going harder. "She likes being treated like a fucking slut. A very fucking ungrateful one."

"S'not true..." You moaned.

"Oh am I crazy, baby?" He gave you another slap. "You wanna keep disrespecting me? Knowing you, you might get sick from the lack of attention..."

"I would!" You replied, desperately. "Could fucking die..."

"Dramatic fucking whore." He chuckled. "Listen to me now. Very serious."

You tried your best to concentrate. It helped that his hips stopped moving.

"You're gonna tell me to stop immediately if I hurt you, won't you?" He asked, in the most serious tone you've heard from him.

"Yes." You couldn't contain the excitement that phrase ignited in you. Should you be scared?

"I mean it. You won't get punished and I'll let you cum if you still want to. But you have to be honest, baby, I... I couldn't live with myself." He insisted.

"I promise, baby." You assured him. "You won't hurt me, I can take it."

"Yeah?" He chuckled again. "Well, you fucking asked for it."

After making sure you were as comfortable as you could get in your position, he forgot what the word mercy meant.

His thrusts fast and deep, his sounds animalistic. Hands on your hips leaving bruises... and if you could speak, you'd thank him for it. It was more than you expected... more than he ever gave you. But it sure was what you needed... and it didn't take too long for that familiar feeling, the one you had been craving all night, fuck, all week, start to build.

"DALTON, PLEASE!" You started by begging already, because you weren't in position to do anything without his permission, no matter how much you needed it. "PLEASE, I'M SO CLOSE..."

"Fuck, me too..." He said, never stopping his hard thrusts. "Come for me, pretty girl... hurry up..."

The relief your body felt as soon as it got his permission allowed your orgasm to build and build and explode harder than you could take it... all you could do was scream his name among incoherent words.

He followed right after you, filling you up so deeply...

As soon as he was finished, he wrapped his arms around you and laid down, holding you close.

"Are you okay, angel?" He kissed every inch of your skin he could reach.

"Fuck, I am now..." you sighed and both of you laughed a little.

"I'm sorry, baby..." His sweet tone was back incredibly quick.

"You didn't hurt me, I promise." You assured him.

"Good... But I'm not apologizing for this... I'm sorry that I neglected you for so long." He caressed your face gently. "You're so much more important to me than all that bullshit. I just..."

"I know." You cut him, offering him a reassuring smile. The look in your eyes meant all the words you couldn't say. Specially not at that moment.

"You do, don't you?" He sighed relieved. You were his ride or die. And he couldn't imagine what he would do without you. "I'm so lucky to have you."

"Well..." You shrugged playfully. "Guess that means it's all forgiven."

"All forgiven." He chuckled, bringing you closer to him.

#elwood dalton #road house #elwood dalton x reader #elwood dalton fanfic #road house fanfic #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal x you #jake gyllenhaal smut #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal x y/n

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ddarker-dreams · 7 months ago

Text

What Remains Unspoken.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader x Yan Feitan

Warnings: Yandere themes & unhealthy relationships. Word count: 2.2k.

If there’s anywhere Feitan looks out of his element, it’s in the sun.

The celestial object serves as his antitheses — warm, bright, and inviting. Given his pallid countenance, he must agree. On the rare occasions you can go outside, he keeps to the shadows, whose darkness could never match the depravity festering inside his rotten soul. You believe night itself would flee from him if it knew a fraction of his crimes.

When you first saw him enter direct sunlight, a certain superstition overtook you, triumphing over reason. You observed with tentative expectation, waiting for something to happen, whatever that something may be. For his skin to break out into blisters, flesh to sizzle, and howls of agony to dominate the air as he disintegrated into a pile of ash; in short, a demise befitting a monster like himself. Regrettably, this didn’t happen. Disappointment weighed heavy on your chest when he went on his merry way.

Presently, he stands hidden amidst a cluster of trees, acting every bit the fairytale ghoul your overactive imagination wished him to be. Through the branches' interstices, light speckles his dark outerwear. It’s a hot, balmy day, though evening’s arrival soothes the worst of the heat.

Unlike him, you’re dressed for the weather. This morning, upon leaving your shower, you found the comfortable clothes you picked out beforehand ‘mysteriously’ replaced. A short, light blue dress featuring a sweetheart neckline and spaghetti straps laid there instead. That wasn’t all. Jewelry, heels, and other various accessories were tossed haphazardly alongside it, like you’d been undecided on what to wear before a first date. Except you hadn’t been the one to get everything out. Feitan was. Prior to that, he never took any interest in what you wore.

No, that attribute belongs to another, whose memory fills you with sickening dread.

You sit at a wooden picnic table, examining the park’s abundant foliage. There’s little else for you to do. Feitan’s yet to give any indication as to why you’re here. Typically, his modus operandi consists of stashing you far away from the public’s purview. From time to time, you’ll travel elsewhere, always using methods that limit your potential interactions with others. This part of the park may be less populated, but hikers and families can still stroll by. You take care not to draw attention to yourself when they do.

Sighing, you stand, fully aware of the eyes monitoring you in the distance. Unsure of what else to do, you approach the last place you spotted Feitan. He says nothing as you approach. You hug yourself, almost regretting your decision to seek him out. By giving you no parameters to work with, you’re left constantly second-guessing yourself, fearing that you’ve broken some unspoken rule. Standing by his side feels like a safer bet than risking a stranger coming over to strike up a conversation.

“Bored?” Feitan asks.

You freeze, thinking over your next words with care. If he believes this little outing is a ‘privilege’, you doubt he’d appreciate you maligning it. Then again, he’s suggested creative punishments for your tongue whenever it’s formed a lie. Considering this, you decide it’s best to redirect the conversation.

“I’m just wondering if there’s anything I should be doing,” you say. When he raises a thin eyebrow, you hastily add, “Sorry, I mean—”

He flicks your forehead, silencing you.

“So nervous,” he croons. “Like little rabbit.”

Irritation bubbles up inside your chest, like a geyser ready to erupt. You want to scoff, as king why he thinks that is, but the provocation goes unchallenged. He isn’t wrong, per se. Every snap of a twig or distant conversation the wind carries instills unease. Endless grisly possibilities swarm your mind. All it could take is a greeting, wave, hell, even a look for Feitan to decide that person’s committed the ultimate transgression.

Suddenly, this preoccupation flees your mind.

Shivers erupt all over your body. Your breathing halts, as do all other forms of movement. The five senses that categorize and make sense of the world recede, like the shoreline moments before a tsunami. What remains eclipses common sense. It’s this unprovable premonition, a whisper amidst the universe’s chaotic chorus few can ever hear. No tangible stimuli support this phenomenon. You’d believe yourself temporarily mad, if not for one damning detail.

You’ve felt this before.

The time you’d been found after your first (and only) escape.

After a well-meaning Hunter pried you from the shackles of captivity, for less than a minute.

Then, at the height of your hubris, when you yelled that your first love would be your last.

The intensity honed to a fine point. It pierced through you like a gunshot, so visceral that you’d check yourself for signs of the wound. You never found anything. You think it was how your brain wanted to make sense of the unknown, mistaking the force of concentrated emotion for a flesh wound. This extremity wasn’t kind, but it wasn’t malevolent either; it was oppressive. Heavy, carnal. A starved beast prowling toward cornered prey.

When you’d been subjected to this, the subjugator always spoke some variation of—

“—Apologies. My control waned there, for a moment… but can you blame me?”

Someone’s touching you. Someone’s cupping your face in their hands, devouring each detail of your being, and Feitan’s letting them. You stumble back, only to be caught. The hands holding you in place are larger than Feitan’s. Warmer too, a little less calloused, though no less stained in oceans of blood. If Feitan’s eyes are knife-like, trying to stab through your skull for any hint at your inner thoughts, then these eyes are calm. Calculating in a way that makes you feel small.

“You’re lovelier than I remember,” the man murmurs. A breeze passes through, displacing your hair, which he tucks back into place. His lips twitch upward, indicating amusement. “What? Did you believe you’d ridden yourself of me?”

Despite your reverie, you shake your head. The man before you — Chrollo Lucilfer — smiles. It’s deceptively soft. Had you not known him better, you’d think the fondness he currently regards you with as warm; the gentle flames of a hearth. There are tells that reveal another story. His grip varies in strength as he’s reminded of how delicate you are, indicating a lack of his usual ‘mindfulness.’ You both know he’s putting on a front of normalcy, yet the charade is rarely this lackluster. He descended upon you faster than the human eye could comprehend. There’d been no casual stride, just an impulse to have you as immediately as physics would allow. His pupils are dilated and his cheeks slightly flushed, like you were a substance to get drunk off of.

The embrace he pulls you into is tight enough to make you squeak.

You expect him to rile you up, whispering teasing words into your ear, yet he’s silent. Unusually so. He buries his face into the crook of your exposed neck, breathing you in, holding you close. Any pretense of cordiality is dropped as he acts like the greedy man he truly is. This neediness is reminiscent of a child reunited with their lost, favorite toy.

The unsettling intimacy doesn’t last for long.

Chrollo releases you from his grasp. The relief is fleeting, as you’re acutely aware of Feitan’s presence. He’s stationed not far behind you, watching the scene in silence. The sadistic man’s capacity to share fully eluded your understanding. From what you can remember, Chrollo’s more willing to discuss their past, but solely on his terms. He’s never explained why Feitan is the way he is, or how he views you.

“He’s fond of you, in his own way,” is the most you got out of Chrollo, during a late-night talk. “He’s just shy.”

“It’s good to see you again, Fei,” Chrollo greets.

Feitan nods — his way of returning the sentiment, you reckon. In Chrollo’s absence, you’ve learned to interpret his behavior to minimize friction. The deference he has for Chrollo is subtle yet undeniable. Others might misinterpret Feitan’s silence as indifference, but you know better. In Chrollo’s presence, he straightens his posture, giving him rapt attention. He follows any order given by his boss.

Especially those regarding you.

Ever since that fateful September, Feitan went from a background character in your life to the lead role. He didn’t reveal much, just that you wouldn’t see ‘the boss’ anytime soon, as he needed to ‘fix things.’ York New was a sore subject that you rarely broached. Nearly ten months have passed since you’ve last seen Chrollo. Physically, he’s the same. There are bandages wrapped around his forehead, covering his forehead tattoo. He’s wearing his teal earrings, dark jeans, and a gray v-neck.

Seeing him now, it’s almost like nothing’s changed.

Almost.

“Lost in thought, love?” Chrollo wonders.

Blinking rapidly, you realize they’re both staring at you, awaiting an answer.

“You’re… you’re back,” is your genius observation.

“I am.”

“You were… um… gone,” you fiddle with your fingers, “For a long time.”

“I was,” he agrees with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. You see dark circles forming beneath them. “This entire affair has proven itself tedious. No matter. In a few short days, it’ll all be over.”

“There’s more to take care of?”

He hums, the sound low and somehow eerie. “You could put it that way. Originally, I was going to wait until after I evened one last score to see you, but impatience got the best of me.”

“Ah,” you shift your weight from foot to foot. “That explains it, then.”

“Explains what, dear?”

“You seem, I don’t know… off? Creepy to the second power? Cubed?”

Chrollo gives you a blank stare. Feitan’s hissing something about how you ‘talk too much,’ his displeasure evident. It dawns on you then that you haven’t interacted with Chrollo in so long, it’s possible his tolerance for your nonsense isn’t what it once was. Especially considering the state he’s in now. Regret churns your insides as silence fills the air, thickening it like smoke. You think to apologize, only to recall their dislike for insincerity. Feitan never wanted apologies, whereas Chrollo accepted them if proven genuine through a rigorous process.

You wince at the sound Chrollo muffles behind his hand.

Then, much to your disbelief, it evolves into a chuckle.

His shoulders tremble as his eyes turn crescent-shaped, gleaming with mirth. He shakes his head and clears his throat. After a few seconds, he regains control of himself, though his posture is less rigid. This visage aligns better with your memories of him. He liked pretending he was ordinary — almost as much as you liked pretending to believe him.

Feitan clicks his tongue. “This girl… always says. Never thinks.”

“You must admit, it’s a cute habit,” Chrollo says.

To this, Feitan mutters a phrase in his native language, turning his gaze away from you.

You cross your arms over your chest. They both had an irritating tendency to talk about you like you weren’t present, a pet peeve you hadn’t had to deal with in a while. The candidness they displayed made you wonder what they spoke about when you weren’t around. A pandora’s box best left unopened, surely.

Chrollo pries one of your hands free to hold in his own. “Words cannot convey how much I missed you."

He follows this admission up by kissing the back of your hand.

“... I can’t stick around much longer, I’m afraid,” he murmurs. “Bear with me a while longer.”

Another chaste kiss. After allowing his lips to linger on your skin a while longer, he relinquishes his grip, tucking his hands into his pockets to deter him from further indulgence.

Unexpectedly, it’s Feitan who shifts the topic.

“Boss,” he speaks, now lurking by your side. “She watch the fight?”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you glance between them, thrown off by the cryptic language. Truthfully, you don’t want to know about whatever it is Chrollo has to do. From what you can glean, it’s likely to involve people getting hurt or dying. You’ve learned the best way to keep your conscience clean is to remain ignorant. If you press on certain issues, Feitan will gleefully overshare gritty details you could’ve gone without.

His response is swift and firm. “No, not this one.”

“... That bad?” Feitan asks. When all Chrollo does is smile, he adds, “Heh. Poor clown.”

Chrollo’s phone vibrates in his pocket. Upon reading the caller’s name, he steps away. “Keep an eye on her for me a while longer, Fei.”

The aforementioned man grunts.

Chrollo spares you a long, final look.

His lips part, as if he intends to say something, before they shut. Inquisitive, you tilt your head, not used to him hesitating. He’s always projected this self-assured image — untouchable, near omnipotent. Flaws don’t suit him. There's this invisible screen that separates you from men like him and Feitan. Their access to abilities beyond comprehension elevates them, setting them apart..

You prefer it that way. Categorizing them as 'others' is easier than reconciling the fact their more human than infernal.

Eventually, he gives you an unusually reserved smile.

"After everything's over, I'll find you."

#feitan x reader #chrollo x reader #yandere feitan x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere hxh x reader #yandere x reader #chrollo brainrot #my stuff

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