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cinnamorollcrybaby · 2 months ago

Text

To love me better

Tags: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna x fem!Reader, american!Reader, forced/arranged marriage, dark romance trope, dead dove, age gap romance (reader is around 21-22, Sukuna is 37) heavy dacryphilia, finger sucking, use of “good girl”, use of pet names, Sukuna is his own warning.

Synopsis: Yakuza Lord!Sukuna owns all of entertainment district. You’re trying to work to put yourself through law school. He has a proposition for you, and you have one for him.

An: I fear that I was going to explode if I didn’t write this. I’ve been in a not good headspace. Blah blah blah school sucks blah blah work sucks blah everything sucks. I’m sorry if this sucks too. Edit - I forgot to mention that this will be a multi-part fic.

Part one. | Part two.

*art creds for sukuna image goes to @.maru6 here on tumblr

Nothing in this life comes for free.

Your father taught you from a very early age to never take handouts from anyone because they’ll always benefit the other person more. He was an immigrant to Japan, and he worked hard for every yen he made.

He instilled that same work ethic in you.

After being hurt on the job from working in a poor environment, your father became very ill. He couldn’t move around as much. Sitting up out of bed made him feel winded. He slowly withered away into a shell of the man who once raised you.

Your mom was long gone. She couldn’t help out, nor did she even want to.

All you were left with was a pile of debt and utter rage. Had your father not been taken advantage of by greedy corporate conglomerates, he would still be here today.

It inspired you to want to go to law school. Your dad should’ve received a hefty settlement check for what he endured from his workplace conditions. The money wouldn’t have solved everything, but it would’ve alleviated some of the stress your dad dealt with in his final days.

You’ll never forget how hoarse his voice sounded while he was on the phone with different agencies, trying to sue that place who forced him into an early grave.

You’ll never forgive them for stealing your dad away.

If you were more ambitious, you’d work to try to change the system entirely, but you knew that wasn’t your fight to face. You wanted to help the already disadvantaged families who were facing injustices beyond their control.

So, you started law school. You were smart enough for it. You had the heart. You just didn’t have a special last name to fund your college tuition. You were a first generation Japanese American in the family. While both your parents were born in America, you were born in Japan, but you were still an outsider.

You were never properly indoctrinated in the culture. Sure, you knew the basics. You knew proper etiquette and appropriate behaviors to live in Japan, but you didn’t understand the layers of how society operated. It was as if you were never assimilated into society as a Japanese citizen.

Your dad wasn’t born here, so he never could explain to you how your last name means everything in this town.

Despite it all, you’d become a lawyer even if you had to bury yourself into debt to do it. You’d work to put yourself through college. You’d do it and bear a smile on your face because you don’t take fucking handouts.

That lead you to becoming a bottle girl at one of the most exclusive clubs in the entertainment district: Malevolent Mass.

The manager said you had the right look, whatever that means. It didn’t matter. He hired you on the spot despite your lack of a substantial last name.

This would be fine. You’d work at night on the weekends and put yourself through school during the day, and you’d keep it a secret from your school, knowing you could lose your position in the prestigious school.

It was a perfect plan, right?

Yes, it was perfect.

Customers seemed to love your polite attitude and warm hospitality. You had quickly made a name for yourself in the few short nights you had worked there.

It was only your second weekend, and your section was full. It was almost comprised entirely of men and their gold digger wives, but you got use to the sexual comments and predatory smiles.

The environment was heavily secured. When you were hired, the managers made sure to show you where security was posted up at every dark corner. They also showed you where cameras were located and assured you that not anyone could just walk into Malevolent Mass.

However, you were well aware that the most dangerous people often worse suits and golden Rolex’s.

It was a busy Friday night. You had already shotgunned two 5 Hour Energy drinks, and you had been steadily sipping on a Monster throughout your shift. You had been in classes all day, and you were scheduled to work until close at 4am.

“Cherry, can we get another round of champagnes?” a sleazy voice pipes up, calling you by your codename. The club was so security driven that they gave all the bottle girls codenames to protect their identities.

“Yes sir,” you respond with an entirely fake bright smile. Your buzzed customers couldn’t tell the difference especially with the low lighting and bass boosted music.

As you walked over towards the bar, your eyes fall onto another table. A man was leaned back with his hands behind his head. He looked entirely relaxed as a girl was bent over your lap.

A crease formed between your eyebrows. They couldn’t be serious, right? Malevolent Mass had a whole downstairs portion dedicated to public sexual acts and other deviant kinks. Why the fuck were they doing that in the normal club area?

As you took a step further, ready to confront them, you realized that the girl was positioned oddly. She wasn’t angled towards his crotch, instead she was hovering over his thigh.

That’s when you noticed she had a rolled up 10,000 yen note, and she was snorting a white powdery substance off the man’s thigh.

Holy fuck, you were in over your head.

Stumbling back towards the bar, you felt your head start to spin a little. It was probably due to fact you’d only consumed energy drinks in the past 12 hours.

“Girl. You don’t look too good,” the bartender, Yorozu, said as she guided you to take a seat. “Are you okay?” she asked cautiously. Compared to the other bottle girls and dancers, Yorozu was the closest thing you had to a friend in this establishment.

“I’m fine,” you quietly replied, shaking your head. It was just drugs. You needed to take a chill pill. It’s not like people go to clubs like this just for some liquid courage.

Yorozu put a glass of water in front of you anyways, not quite believing your words. “Here. I promise you get used to it all,” she offered with a kind smile.

You gave her an appreciative smile as you took a sip of the water. Your hand was trembling, and you realized you had been sweating.

The water felt nice, and you inwardly warded off energy drinks for the rest of the night. It wasn’t worth feeling like a panicky mess.

“I need another bottle of Dom Prignon for booth 12,” you said as you looked back up towards Yorozu. She nodded and walked towards the back to retrieve the bottle of too expensive champagne.

While she was gone, you took a deep breath and looked around towards the security posts. It felt like a small safety blanket in a place like this. Finishing your glass of water, you felt infinitely better as she returned with the bottle.

“Here you are! Let me know if you need anything else, and seriously, don’t feel bad for reacting that way. It’s a bit of a culture shock for everyone during their first few nights,” she assured you as she handed you the bottle.

“Thanks, I appreciate you,” you replied with a genuine smile. Yorozu had a nice energy to her like you felt like you could get close to her one day. A girl friend would be nice to have in a place like this.

As you walked back over to your section, your lips curled into a frown as empty seats filled your eyes. Had they gotten tired of waiting and abandoned your section?

You felt disappointed as you looked around for your customers. They were nowhere to be found, but one silhouette remained in the very back corner.

“Did you bring that bottle for me? How sweet. Too bad I don’t drink,” a deep gravely voice spoke up with a hint of condescension and pure predatory prowess.

You hesitate as it feels like the air in the club shifts simply from this man’s presence alone.

“You don’t drink..?” your voice is uneasy. You feel off balance while interacting with the man tucked away in a dark corner.

“No,” the stranger replied, and he leaned forward a bit, propping his elbows on his knees as his eyes were staring straight at you. “Don’t be shy, girl. Come closer. I won’t bite…” the condescension in his voice tells you otherwise.

You swallow thickly before slowly taking a few steps closer. As you approached him, you were able to see him in all of his glory. The breath is completely sucked from your lungs as you’re able to finally get a good look at him.

He wore a white button-up top with black slacks that really didn’t leave much for the imagination. His sleeves weee rolled up to his elbows, showing off tattoos on his arms.

His face was hauntingly alluring. His tattoos also went up to his face. He had intricate lines under his cheeks that stretched down to his chin. His hair was a natural light rosy color that was pushed up from his forehead. It looked effortless and messy, unlike most business men who rely way too heavily on hair gel.

His eyes were a soft crimson color that looked like blood that had been spilled. A jarring scar slashed over his left eye, but it wasn’t ugly by any means. No, this man held a god-like status when it came to looks. However, his energy felt nothing short of daunting and corrupt.

“Who comes to a club to not drink?” you ask nervously, having to fill the eerie silence with something. It felt like you were suffocating in this man’s presence.

A rugged chuckle leaves his lips, and he tilts his head back slightly. It feels like his laugh sticks to you, making you relax and tense back up all at the same time. You can feel every yen he’s worth with each chuckle.

“If you must know, I come here for a… different sort of entertainment,” he says as his lips curled into a smirk. His eyes unabashedly roam your body — twice before he meets your gaze again.

“Oh, that’s downstairs,” you reply as you feel relieved. This man was just in the wrong section. Surely, you’d guide him to where he needed to go, and you’d be free from whatever kind of verbal hostage situation this was.

“I’m content with where I’m at,” he says with a sort of finality that leaves little room for argument. “Come closer, doll.”

His arm props up on the back of the curved booth, and his legs part into that sort of manspread position where he takes up a good portion of the booth with his massive size.

“I-“

The man pulls a clip of money from his suit, and he makes a show out of flipping through the money before he lays six 10,000 yen notes on the table.

What the hell.

“60,000 yen for you to shut up and come closer,” he says in a voice that lacks the faux kindness he was putting on earlier.

Every survival instinct in your body was telling you to run, but your brain was telling you that 60,000 yen was enough to cover your student housing and for a train pass for a month.

You slowly inch closer, your heels not even lifting from the ground.

The man gives you an amused look as he raises an eyebrow at you. “How much for you to sit on my lap?”

“I-I’m not a dancer..” you reply sheepishly, wondering if he thought you were one of the performers for the club.

“Good thing I’m not asking you to dance, doll. I’m asking you to sit in my lap,” His lips curl into a feline grin. He’s enjoying toying with you like this. “So, I’ll ask only one more time. How much?”

Your heart is pounding against the confines of your ribcage. It felt like you had a little angel on your shoulder telling you that selling this man your time will only further escalate, but the little devil on your other shoulder was telling you to milk him for whatever he was willing to give.

You stayed silent for a few minutes, calculating what a whole month’s expenses would cost you along with the 60,000 yen you already made.

“90,000 yen,” you sheepishly murmur, bracing yourself for him to yell at you for even suggesting such a high number.

There was a beat of silence before the sound of more money being unfolded was heard. He chuckled as he placed down nine more 10,000 yen notes.

“Look at you being all cute while asking for money from me,” he teased, resting his back against the back of the booth. His hand patted his thigh, signaling for you to take a seat.

“I’m not asking— You offered!” you protested, feeling a bit defensive that he would suggest that you just asked him for money.

“Don’t take such a whiny tone with me, doll. I’m only teasing you,” he says as he gestures to his lap yet again. “Sit.”

You bite your bottom lip as you look down towards his lap. You were really about to sit on this stranger’s lap for money… If your dad could see you now, he’d probably disown you.

Good thing he isn’t here.

You slowly walked over towards him, and you carefully take a seat on one of his thighs, planting your feet firmly on the ground so you’re slightly hovering. You need to be able to get away from him at a moment’s notice.

A strong hand slowly snaked up your back, towards your hair, and you tensed up quickly. The stranger wrapped his hand around the back of your neck.

“If I have to tell you again, I’m taking back my money. Sit,” he viciously growled in your ear.

You were already this far in. You should see this through. This club is safe. You were sure of it.

As you slowly allowed yourself to prop your full weight across his lap, your eyes scan around the club, looking at the security points. None of the men would even glance in your direction as if they were purposefully ignoring your section.

What did you just get yourself into?

“See? Was that so hard?” he taunted as his hand slowly dropped down to clasp around your hip. “Why is an angel like you in a club like this?”

Everything in you told you not to answer that question. As soon as he knew your weakness, he’d definitely use it to his advantage, but he probably already knew money was a good motivator for you.

“I didn’t know there was a no angel policy,” you say, trying to remain casual as you flash him a small smile.

A deep chuckle erupts from his chest. He appreciates you trying to use humor to deflect. Clever girl.

“I suppose you’re right,” he rolls his head to the side, cracking his neck from both sides. The sound of bones popping causes a shudder to go through your body. This man was good at giving a false sense of security. “But angels don’t last long in a place like this. It would be a pity to see you be ruined.”

His other hand firmly rested against your thigh, right above your knee. He gives your leg a light squeeze. “Tell me your name, doll.”

“Cherry,” You respond without missing a beat, giving your code name instead of your real name.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?” he asks, allowing his fingertips to glide against the exposed skin of your thigh. Your breath picks up in speed, noticing he’s getting more bold with touching you.

“Am I suppose to?” you ask, genuinely curious if this man was some big shot that you were suppose to know.

You very rarely kept up with politics, only knowing major crime names from your law classes, and you definitely didn’t keep up with conglomerates. This man wouldn’t be the first millionaire to walk through the doors of Malevolent Mass, and he wouldn’t be the last.

Another deep raspy chuckle escapes him. “No, I actually find it quite cute you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

His hand slithered up your back once again, and this time he grabbed a fistful of your head, tugging your head back to look up at him. A gasp slips past your lips as your eyes meet his crimson ones.

“Tell me a secret, cherry,” he hisses your codename like it’s disgraceful on his tongue. “Do you belong here?”

You think to try to get up from his lap, but his other arm has worked to secure you to him tightly. The security men aren’t even glancing in your direction. No one would hear you over the music blasting if you tried to scream, and if this man was as important as his inflated ego suggested, no one would likely even help you.

You’ve done everything thus far to get out from underneath the rich man’s thumb, but it feels like every time you take one step forward, something pushed two steps back.

Do you belong anywhere? No where feels like home after your dad passed. Tears stung into your eyes. Why were you thinking of him at a time like this? He can’t save you now.

The man’s lips twitched into a smirk as he saw the tears building in your eyes. That alone was confirmation enough. You didn’t belong here at all.

His other hand reaches up to your face, and he gently strokes your cheek — a contrast to how tightly he was holding your hair. “Such a pretty crier,” he deep gravely voice coos to you.

You can’t even help it at this point. You try to blink the water away from your eyes, but the tears slip down your cheeks anyway. You just silently cursed yourself for ruining your own makeup.

“You’re a crybaby, aren’t you?” he asked as his fingers brush against your pouty lips, and he grabs your chin carefully. “Open.”

Accepting defeat, your lips part ever so slightly for him, and you can feel the way his heart races in his chest from the sight. He narrowly eyes you as two of his fingers slip past your lips.

You’re momentarily stunned from his thick fingers filling your mouth. You feel a thrum between your thighs, but you try to ignore it. Surely, your body was just betraying you, and his body was betraying him. You were able to feel every inch of his hard on through his slacks. The sight of your tears only served to spur him on further.

When you give his fingers a light suckle, he purrs a praise for you. Leisurely, he thrusts his digits in and out from your mouth. He admires the way you accept them in without a single complaint.

“Such a good girl for me. Try a little harder,” his voice darkly instructs you as he slides his fingers deeper past your tongue, hitting your inexperienced throat.

Your throat involuntarily constricts, causing you to gag and cry more. You hum around his fingers as you whimper. He merely laughs at your pitiful display.

“We’ll have to train your cute little throat to take more, won’t we?” he asked, making a dull ache settle in your lower stomach. You had never done anything like this, and the way he was treating all this so casually filled you with some sort of… excitement.

His words also struck you with fear as you realized this meant he was likely far from being done with his antics.

His fingers continue until you’ve coated them in a thin sheen of saliva. When he pulled from you, you were panting even though he hadn’t taken away your ability to breathe.

He smirked as he gazed at you as if he can tell that your cunt is clenching around nothing right now. It’s like he knows every perverse desire you’ve fantasized about in your alone time.

“You’re a vision, doll. I’m going to have so much fun breaking you,”

Before you could even think to inquire what he meant by that, an unfamiliar male voice spoke up to your side, causing you to flinch slightly. The other man was dressed in basic business attire, but he had a scrappier look to him.

“Sir?”

The stranger tensed, and you could practically see all the playful taunting energy in his face melt away. He stared daggers into the newcomer’s soul. “Speak.”

“Members of the Gojo clan were spotted near Dante’s 7th circle,”

“Dammit, what a pest,” the pink-haired male growled. He clearly didn’t fancy being interrupted.

You perked up a little from the mention of the infamous Gojo clan. You had heard plenty of whispers about the clan fluttering about on campus, and the clan had been brought up momentarily in your organized gangs class before the professor quickly shut down the conversation.

Yakuza clans were talked about in school, but the professors were very careful about what they chose to say, knowing that members were everywhere amongst them.

The stranger carefully moved you from his lap, and he stood up, gathering himself before turning to you. “You behave. I have to go tend to something, but I’ll be back for you,” he said as he reached into his coat, and he casually tossed a whole clip of yen onto the table.

Your eyes widened at the stack of money sitting on the table, and your heart began to race. It felt like the last two hours had been a complete blur, but now, you were face with a thick stack of money — probably enough to cover you for at least three months… and you weren’t even done with your shift yet.

Your excitement was quickly overshadowed by fear. He was coming back for you. How intertwined had you gotten yourself into this mess?

taglist: @theuniversesnepobaby

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yamujiburo · 8 months ago

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Here's an arc I thought about doing but won't do because, it'd be a bit too sad and also it's too similar to the Turing Point Arc I already did and also it would be long. But I'll write it here for you angst enjoyers. This ended up being longer than I thought.

Despite getting the "okay" from Ash to date Jessie, Delia still worries that she's not doing the right thing or being a bad mom. Up until now she'd convinced herself that she had the right to be selfish for once after knowing only sacrifice and putting herself last.

Jessie and Ash, while not as antagonistic towards each other, still go at it. A Pikachu zap here, an angry "twerp" being uttered there. The guilt settles in for Delia and figures that it's best to just cut things off before things potentially get worse or before she gets too attached to Jessie. Her son comes first after all. That's what she signed up for when becoming a parent.

She sits Jessie down, eyes watery (it's the first time Jessie's ever seen Delia come close to crying). Delia says she thinks they should end things. Jessie is stunned but accepts it quickly. She sucks it up in the moment, puts a resigned smile on her face and tells Delia she'll leave immediately and not to worry about her. Delia's also broken up about it but promised herself she'd never cry over a goodbye and she wasn't gonna start now.

Jessie goes to James and Meowth's place greeted similarly to this, lightly teasing her about blowing it with Delia, and she breaks down sobbing. Oops it's real this time. James and Meowth do everything in their power to make her feel better. They let her know that things like this happen and they're ready to go wherever she wants to go (knowing that it'd likely be to painful for her to stay in Pallet). As much as she wants to leave, she doesn't want James and Meowth to lose the good thing they have going. She's not in the right headspace to make any decisions so she'll get to it later.

Ash returns home after doing a little training at Oak's lab. He notices Jessie's not around and asks his mom where she is. Delia is about to tell him but can't quite bring herself to say the truth out loud yet. She simply says "I don't know". Ash looks disappointed. "Aw man, I wanted to see if she wanted to battle. She makes a good battle buddy for all of my newer, baby Pokémon." Delia perks up that this. As quickly as he came, he leaves again to go train his Pokémon.

Later, Delia approaches Ash, asking him if he really meant that what he said about Jessie being a good battle partner. He gives her an enthusiastic "yeah!" and tells her that it's been nice having another battle ready trainer around since there's not many in Pallet. Delia starts to pry a little more. "I thought you and Jessie didn't get along?" Ash is confused, and tells Delia they get along great! "Jessie doesn't steal anymore! And she's getting better at battling which is cool." Delia brings up that she's head them argue before. "Oh... well I guess that's just how we are. I'd be weirded out if she was suddenly too nice to me all the time. Jessie's actually a lot like Misty. But taller!" This gives Delia a lot to think about but what's done is done and it's no use pressing on. It's easier this way.

The next morning Delia's getting ready for work. She must not have noticed that she was acting weird but Ash picks up on it. "What's wrong mom?" Delia's shocked he noticed (he's not usually this perceptive). She tells him it's nothing and that she just slept bad. "Hm. But Jessie says that when you're upset you get really quiet and intense." Delia notices that she was pretty intensely mixing the pancake batter. "Jessie told you that?" Ash nods. "Hey speaking of, where is Jessie? Haven't seen her since yesterday." Delia stops mixing and tells Ash that she and Jessie aren't together anymore. Ash is confused and upset at the idea of Jessie doing something that would hurt his mom enough for them to break up. Delia lets him know that Jessie didn't do anything like that and that them breaking up was just for the best. But Ash questions this, pointing out that he's never seen Delia as happy as she was when Jessie was there and also how Delia looks really sad now. Delia can't argue with that but then tells him that it's complicated. Ash, to Delia's surprise, looks a bit disappointed. He's bummed he wasn't able to say goodbye first and asks if she thinks Jessie would still be willing to come by and train with him sometimes. Delia asks him once more if he was really okay with her and Jessie dating. "Yeah I thought I said that already? Jessie's pretty cool when she's not being evil. And she really likes Pokémon which is a plus!" Such simple criteria. Delia's now worried that she might've made a mistake. She finishes making breakfast and heads to work.

At the restaurant she's met by James. She can feel an awkwardness hanging in the air. She knows that James knows. Before she can say anything James tells Delia thank you for employing him and helping him, Meowth and Jessie get back on their feet but that he's going to quit working at the restaurant and that they'll likely be leaving Pallet soon. Delia's heart sinks. There's now a ticking clock and she has to decide what she wants to do SOON. She asks James where Jessie is. James hesitantly tells her that she's at his and Meowth's place. Delia pleads with James to work the restaurant for one more day at least and to cover this shift. She has to go talk to Jessie. He agrees, hoping that this is a good thing.

Delia runs to James and Meowth's place. She knocks on the door upon arrival and waits. It takes a moment but she hears the door unlock. Jessie opens the door, disheveled, tears and snot all over her face, draped in a blanket. Jessie notices it's Delia and, frightened, slams the door. Delia's stunned for a moment and goes to knock on the door again but before she can the door opens. This time Jessie's tears are gone, her hair's fixed and she ditched the blanket. "Oh hey, Delia! What brings you here?" Delia can't help but be charmed. But this is serious. She shakes it off and asks if they could talk. Jessie invites her in. They get to the couch and Jessie starts frantically cleaning up all the crumpled tissues and dirty dishes off the ground. "Heh I caught a cold yesterday. A one day cold. I'm fine now." Delia doesn't call out the obvious lie and gets straight to the point.

She tells Jessie that she's worried she made a mistake. She made a panicked decision that she was hoping would protect Ash and her future self. But now realizes that she was afraid of the idea that she'd made a selfish decision by dating her. It was a selfish decision but that didn't mean it was a bad one. She was the happiest she'd been, Jessie and Ash were learning to get along and were getting along much better than she'd though. She acknowledges that Jessie has been there for Ash in a way that she can't quite be and is also grateful to her for managing to keep Ash home a little longer. She asks if Jessie would be willing to take her back (despite the distress she caused). Jessie starts sobbing with happy tears. She tearfully says she'll try even harder to get along with Ash and be a better person. Delia reassures her that she's doing just fine.

They kiss passionately but then realize it's weird that they're making out in James in Meowth's place and say they'll continue later. Delia tells Jessie to head back home and that Ash is looking forward to battling with her (and she also needs to let James and Meowth not to quit their jobs).

The end~

#long post

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thewayitalknj · 4 months ago

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I've been listening to a lot of Mötley Crüe lately to hopefully manifest me seeing them in Las Vegas next year. Came up with this while driving, which is how a lot of my ideas come to be recently. Word Count - 1.6k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Full Mini-Series Masterlist Here

"Come on please, I have no idea what they have planned and it's killing me." He was practically begging you at this point. You roll your eyes as you walk down the next aisle, stacking the next set of 'romantic comedies' that just came in.

"Eddie, it's your birthday, it's supposed to be a surprise. And can you please stop bugging me while I'm working?"

"Yeah yeah sure I'll stop bugging you" he grits his teeth, "if you tell me what they have planned."

You turn around fully facing him, pushing your glasses back up your nose, taking your voice down to a whisper. "Look I truly have no idea what the fuck they have planned so please stop asking. Just be grateful they're doing something with you and you're not spending your birthday alone." You turn back around, making your way to the 'horror' section.

"At least come with me-"

"I can't, I have my bookclub tonight. But come to my place and tell me all about your guys night tomorrow if you're not too hungover."

He huff's his breath up, his bangs moving in the process. "Thanks a lot."

"I'm sure you'll have a blast."

A strip club. A fucking strip club. As much as Eddie appreciated what his friends were doing this is not what he expected. All he wanted was a guy's night in playing D&D and watching movies but no, his friends had to go all out.

The worst part is it was 'dress up night', so the strippers would be in various costumes. His friends thought the better, dress up plus dancing ladies ; what more could anyone ask for?

After a few hours sitting in a booth a few drinks in, an announcement sounded over the DJ speakers ; "alright everyone we have a birthday in the house! We want to welcome our birthday boy in Booth 21 to come on up for a special dance!" As everyone roared with excitement Eddie blushed under the neon lights.

"Why are y'all doing this to me?"

Garth pushes him forward, "Because we love you, NOW GO!" Eddie reluctantly makes his way up and sits on the chair provided for him. He drums nervously on his knees waiting for the song to start.

The next dancer comes to take the stage, dressed in all red, devil horns, and a red laced mask. Her hair is curled, not one piece left undone. She steps into the spotlight, and Eddie swears time halts and he has to take breath in order to steady himself. He is mesmerized. She slowly makes her way over, putting her hands on both sides of the chair. She eyes him up and down smirking to herself and as her song begins to play ; taking control of the room.

Eddie feels like he's fallen under some sort of spell, like something he wrote out for a campaign. He's so enthralled he completely forgot he was in a room with other people. He watches every move she makes ; the way her hips sway, how she doesn't come too close but just enough to tease him, and the way she makes eye contact with him? Forget about it ; Eddie swears he's falling in love with her right then and there, even though this was his first interaction with the mystery woman.

And in the three minutes the song plays, Eddie is so thankful his friends took him out. He tries to memorize every detail of the devil, just in case he decides to come back another time. Maybe on his own? Maybe with buddies again? Who knows, but he just had to remember her. Particular details ran through his head ; the hair style, the color of her eyes, and while she moved her body up against his, he noticed a small birthmark on the left side of her body, ironically shaped like a heart right above her heart ; and be still his own heart. Right when the music fades and the crowd begins to cheer breaking him out of his headspace, she leans in to his ear and with a sultry voice whispers "happy birthday sweetheart" and it's right then and there Eddie could have been shot through the chest by an arrow and he would feel no pain.

His posse of course never let him see the end of it, with constant teasing as the night went on. One thing was for sure, he could not wait to tell you about his night in the morning.

Eddie couldn't wait, he was practically banging at your door at 9:00am. You reach for your glasses on the nightstand, pull your hair in a messy bun and make your way towards the front door. You look through the peephole and Eddie is waving.

"Ed, what the hell-"

"I gotta tell you about last night." He races in, high on adrenaline pacing your living room.

"Good morning to you too-" You shut the front door, "can I please make some coffee first? I'm exhausted."

"Bookclub ran late?"

"Something like that. Want a cup?"

"Sure, thanks." You sulk to the kitchen and make your coffee, wondering what the hell has Eddie all wound up. You make your way back, handing him his cup as he takes a seat on your couch. "Damn, what book are you ladies reading that has you staying up so late?"

"It's nothing. So tell me, how was your birthday?"

"Amazing, they took me to a strip club."

You swallow your coffee, hard. "Oh wow, what an event."

"You're telling me, it was incredible. Well at least, she was incredible."

"Oh god Eddie don't tell me you fell in love with a dancer-"

"You don't understand. There was just something about her, I-I know it sounds corny but it was like magic. I've never felt like that before." He looks around your living room, then reaching over and grabs your shoulders playfully, shaking you. "Am I going crazy?!"

You laugh, "I don't think so. I just find it hilarious that it's a fucking stripper you're talking about."

"Yeah, well-" Just as Eddie begins to move his arms something catches his eye.

A birthmark. On the left side of your body. In the shape of a heart. He looks into your eyes, the same color and sparkle that were under the mask. He looks at your hair, it's normally straight, why does it look curly and wavy?

All these small details come together in his head. He moves his hands off you and runs them through his own hair, piecing everything together.

"So yeah, uh-enough about me...how was...bookclub?"

"Oh god you don't wanna hear about my bookclub. Why-"

"No no, I do..want to hear....about the bookclub. Please tell me." He takes another sip of his coffee, staring at the birth mark.

You follow his eyes, "is there something on me?"

"Hm, no. Just....so, bookclub?"

"Oh you know, just another night of girl talk about a steamy romance novel and too much wine, just the norm." Eddie can't even think straight, all the events from last night come rushing to his head.

You ponder at him wondering if he's okay, "sweetheart are you alright? You're starting to worry me."

Sweetheart, a nickname normally used frequently but now it's different. He jolts up from your couch. "I gotta go. Dustin and I have...stuff-to do."

You're dismayed, just nodding your head. "Um okay, but if you need anything just let me know-"

"Yeah uh thanks. And thanks for uh the coffee and...talk."

He speedily exits your home, and you're left wondering if maybe just maybe...

Just a Few Hours Ago

You stand off stage looking out to the man sitting on the chair. Only to realize it was Eddie.

"Oh shit-"

"What's up girl? Everything okay?" Your co-worker, Jade, comes up behind you.

"I-I can't go out. You take my slot instead."

"What, why? I'm not on for another 20, why do you want to switch?" She signals to Cassie, the DJ, to hold off on the music. Cassie gives a thumbs up and waits.

"I know the guy sitting in the chair, he's one of my friends. I can't...dance for him."

"Why? He won't know it's you, we're all dressed up tonight."

"Yeah but it's just...awkward that I know and he...doesn't."

"Look, I understand where you're coming from but I think you should just do it. He won't know it's you, does he know you work here?"

"No no, he's here with his friends for his birthday," You watch him drum on his legs, probably nerves. "I wouldn't picture him as someone who would want to come out and do this but, there he is."

"So, give him the dance of his life. Something he'll never forget. Remember, you're not going out as yourself." You nodded your head, Jade was right. You signal back to Cassie to start your song when ready. You quietly thank Jade, take a deep breath and take the stage.

24 Hours Later

As you apply your lipstick looking in the mirror, your other coworker Bianca comes in. "Hey B! How was your daughter's band recital?"

She takes a seat next to you giving you a half hug. "It was great! She crushed her solo, I'm so proud of her."

"That's incredible. I can't wait to see the tape!"

"Oh before I forget, Pam wanted me to tell you you got a private dance at 10:30."

"Wait, really?" You ponder, turning around in the chair. "I haven't done a private dance in weeks."

"Guess someone really likes you because they asked for you specifically."

"Oh wow. Really? Okay then, thanks for the heads up."

"No problem, be safe!"

Once 10:30 rolls around you make your way to Room #2, opening the door and stopping dead in your tracks the moment you see who it is, casually lounging on the couch.

"Sup sweetheart?"

Quick Notes - Hope you enjoyed! :) Thank you for reading! Reblogs are much appreciated! Maybe Part 2? idk.

#Spotify #Stranger Things #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fanfic #Eddie Munson fluff #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson blurb #Kierstyn Writes #Eddie Munson x You #GGG!Universe

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rainynightwrites · 2 months ago

Text

˗ˏˋ turn me on ˎˊ˗

cw: 18+ content mdni. fem!reader. semi public sex. sylus calls reader kitten/sweetie several times. fingering. p in v. unprotected sex. choking. sylus being a tease. sylus degrading reader. sylus also praising reader. overstim. creampie. established relationship. this happens on sylus’ motorcycle. not proofread. ᯓᡣ𐭩

wc: 2.0k

sylus had taken you out to dinner for a little date night. on your way back to his place he took you up to the rooftop of one of the decrepit buildings on the outskirts of the n109 zone. sylus was leaning against his motorcycle as you stood near the ledge looking over the city. it was a strange mix of eerie silence, yet random ruckus of other vehicles and arguments between people below filled your ears.

despite the fact that the n109 zone was a lawless wasteland, you felt at peace here for some reason. you’ve chalked it up to being near sylus. i mean, how could you not feel safe around him? you watched a room full of men shoot at sylus, in an attempt to kill him, and he handled all of them without even breaking a sweat.

and he looked really fucking hot while doing it— but that is besides the point.

you turned around towards sylus, walking back to him. murmuring how you were ready to go back to his place. he stood up straight and put his hands on your hips pulling you closer, his eyes gleaming, “or, we could stay here a little longer. it’s just us up here, sweetie.” you knew that tone, you knew the look in his eyes, and yes, you could feel that he was more than half hard in his pants right now.

“sylus! we are out in public, this isn’t- we shouldn’t.” you knew better, anybody could see, literally. plus it’s the n109 zone, this wasn’t the safest place to do something like this.

“why not, kitten? i can fight, and anyways mephisto would let us know if someone were coming.” those damn red eyes, you truly never understood how you were able to focus when sylus stared at you so intently. “but it’s up to you, if you aren’t comfortable we can just go back to my place...”

sylus’ words faded away. you felt guilty for some reason, something twisted in your stomach, and you knew you were about to give in. your gaze drifted to his motorcycle behind him.

when you’d originally fantasized about sylus fucking you over his motorcycle, it didn’t include being on a damn rooftop. you thought it’d be in the garage of his place, safe from potential prying eyes.

you looked up at sylus, biting your lip as you nodded your head slowly. sylus moved in on you instantly, his big hands grabbing you by the backs of your thighs and plopping you down onto the seat of his motorcycle. “mhh, i thought so. such a good girl for me aren’t you, sweetie?”

throughout your relationship with sylus you learned that he is a switch. he had times where he just wanted you to use him for your pleasure, then he had times where he wanted to completely dominate you until you were nothing but a mindless, cock drunk slut. and tonight was definitely the latter.

“y-yeah, your good girl…” your words were soft. your breathing becoming more and more erratic by the second. sylus had already begun positioning you the way he wanted. bastard, he must’ve anticipated that you’d agree to such an act.

sylus draped your left leg over one of the handlebars on his motorcycle, then he grabbed your right leg and held it up against his body. he kissed the exposed skin above your ankle. sylus diligently moved your skirt out of the way with one hand. his other hand was inching up your stomach, starting an ascent up your body. his hand continued to move up your body, grazing your breasts ever so gently.

sylus was a master at stimulating you, maybe a little too good at it sometimes, especially when you plummeted into a cloudy headspace of need and desire. you’d been so distracted by watching him kiss your ankle and feeling him pinch your nipples through your shirt and bra that you’d completely forgotten his other hand working between your legs. you hadn’t even felt him move your panties to the side.

sylus’ red eyes bore into you and he slid one finger between your folds. “kitten,” it sounded so chastising. “i barely even touched you and you’re fucking soaked. that’s a little pathetic, don’t you think?”

“i can’t help it!” you protested, but when his finger swiped through your folds again and then drew a tight circle over your clit you nearly broke right then. your moan filled the stagnant air around you. he hummed like he was amused, you could feel a smirk forming on his lips as he placed another kiss higher up your calf this time, causing you to bend your leg awkwardly.

“i think, you just couldn’t wait to have me, could you, sweetie?” sylus punctuated his question by sliding his middle finger into your cunt and lazily tracing your clit with his thumb. his eyes never left your face, he watched every. single. reaction he drew from you. “oh come on, you’re always so brave. you love to talk back. why aren’t you doing it now?”

this wasn’t fair. at all. your lips started to form a soft pout but sylus put a quick end to that when he grazed your g-spot. your head dropped back as he effectively pulled another moan from your gorgeous lips.

you were already starting to fall into that cloudy headspace when you felt sylus draw a line with his tongue up your calf. and if that wasn’t bad enough the hand that had been playing with your nipples had now found it’s way around your neck. it was all a heady combination that sylus knew exactly how to exploit for the sounds and reactions he wanted from you.

“sylus!” his name rolled off your tongue in a high pitched whine. you hadn’t even realized how quickly your body was hurtling towards an orgasm.

sylus tightened his grip around your neck before plunging another finger inside you. “i can feel you clenching around my fingers, kitten. it’s so easy for me to wind you up, but fuck you are so beautiful this way. so desperate. i bet you can’t wait for my cock.”

your world narrowed, you could feel your pulse racing under sylus’ hand. the sounds he was pulling from you were obscene at this point. and it wasn’t just the sounds coming from your mouth, no, you were quite literally dripping. through half-lidded eyes you watched sylus finally break eye contact with you in favor of watching his fingers disappear into your soaked warmth.

just as you were about to cum he pulled his fingers from your core, studying the two fingers that had been buried inside you. they glistened in the low lighting on the rooftop.

“sylus! no, please. i was so close, i-“ your babbling was cut off by hazily watching sylus bring his fingers to his mouth and suck your arousal off them. his eyes slid closed as he savored your flavor.

“shh, just be patient. i enjoy seeing you so worked up for me. does it feel like your nerve endings are blazing yet?” he let go of your throat, tracing his fingers softly down one of your arms. his eyes were all but glowing in the night, it was distracting and mesmerizing— he looked at you like you were special. that made your stomach flip in a good way.

you couldn’t even bring yourself to answer, but yes, you felt like your entire body was on fire. every touch, every little graze had your body acting as if it were a live wire ready to snap.

sylus unbuttoned his pants, and pulled his cock out in one smooth motion. you watched him stroke himself once, twice. you licked your lips as you saw the precum seeping from the slit. his cock was…for lack of better terms, perfect. a perfect length, a perfect girth, the perfect amount of curve. it hit the spot every time it was inside you.

sylus didn’t give you much time to process his actions though, he dragged the fat head of his cock through your warm, wet folds and then buried himself inside you in one quick thrust.

“oh my god.” you somehow managed to choke out between a moan. sylus laughed as he watched your eyes roll back when he pushed himself fully into your cunt. “sweetie, there’s not a single god or deity that’s gonna come and save a cock drunk, needy little slut such as yourself.”

your walls clenched around his cock immediately. something about his unhinged words made you feel strange, yet even more turned on than you already were. you were panting at this point, a constant string of whines and moans falling from your lips.

you’ve come to terms with the fact that sylus was is just that good at sex. it almost concerned you that he’d managed to reduce you to such a state with only his hands so quick before even fucking you. you’ve fallen apart at his hands and mouth— cock too, so many times you’ve lost count. it’s easy for you to lose yourself in him, with him.

“what a pretty girl for me, such a beautiful thing to see you this way, all for me, only me.” sylus mused as he thrust into you at a relentless pace that had you seeing stars. sure, you liked being degraded by sylus, but the praise— oh, how you thrived on it.

sylus slid one hand between your bodies until his thumb found your clit again, he lazily drew right circles before leaning forward causing your knees to hit your shoulders. he easily folded you in half while you were sat on his motorcycle, you weren’t sure how it was still upright. you were more concerned with the fact that the new angle allowed sylus’ cock deeper into your velvety walls.

“sy-sylus! fuck, i’m close!” “it’s okay, you let go whenever you need to, darling. sing for me.” sylus leaned forward more until his lips pressed against yours. you immediately threaded your fingers through his silvery hair, melting into the kiss with zero hesitation. the kiss itself was messy, all teeth and tongues. all your moans and whines became muffled by his mouth.

his cock dragged along your inner walls with such precision. he hit your g-spot with every thrust. the head of his cock grazing your cervix, that alone sent a spark through body. two, three, four more thrusts later and your walls were squeezing his cock so tightly, the velvet heat of your cunt rippling as you came undone for him.

“good girl, such a good fucking girl coming on my cock like that. do you have any idea how beautiful you sound when you let go?” sylus didn’t slow, your euphoric orgasm quickly turning to overstimulation. your eyes welling with tears as you gasped and whined. writhing slightly beneath sylus. the motorcycle didn’t allow for much movement though.

“almost there, just- mmpfh. just a little longer, i promise. you’re doing so well, taking everything so well.” sylus’ fingers dug into the meat of your thighs as he chased his release. your body began to tremble from the continuing stimulation. your walls becoming so sensitive.

sylus buried himself fully inside your cunt, and he stilled above you. his breath coming out in warm huffs. occasional soft grunts filled your ears. warm ropes of his cum painted your inner walls. sylus pressed his forehead against yours, not daring to pull out just yet.

“thank you, kitten,” sylus wiped the tears that had collected on your lashes away and pressed soft kisses around your face; on your cheeks, your chin, your lips, your nose, and your forehead. his eyes softer now, and he didn’t want to let you go. you were precious to him, you both knew it.

while what you just did was a little crazy and risky, you couldn’t help but be happy that your date night ended this way. however, you suspected that when you and sylus were able to move and make it back to his place, neither of you would be getting much sleep tonight.

⊹₊⟡⋆ thanks for reading. ⊹₊⟡⋆

tags: @honeyandlore @nanami1slut

#⏾⋆.˚ k's works #i wrote more than i anticipated…#oh well!#love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace sylus smut #sylus smut #sylus x reader #lnds sylus #lnds smut #lnds sylus x reader #l&ds sylus #l&ds smut #l&ds sylus x reader #l&ds sylus drabble #lnds sylus smut #l&ds sylus smut

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pbaz7 · 2 days ago

Text

NORTHBOUND

paige x azzi

word count: 5.9k

A/N: I felt really inspired to write something like this. It’s random but tackles a different side of my usual writing. Very short synopsis: they meet on a train. Talks about religion, life, who knows😭. Let me know what you think!!

—————————————————————————

The train moved like a long, exhaled breath across the spine of the Northeast—steady and rhythmic. It was the kind of motion that lulled secrets to the surface, coaxing confessions from silence with strangers. Outside, trees stood like sentinels in soft focus, slipping past in shades of red and yellows. Inside, the hum of metal against the track became the pulse of the people inside the vessel.

Azzi stepped into the car with a glance down the aisle. She moved like someone who didn’t need to ask for space—she simply found it. Her eyes scanned the scattered passengers until they landed on a figure near the back.

She sat like still water—serene, reflective. A blonde woman with her hair pulled back in a loose bun, the kind of effortless style that took a little time. Her eyes were closed beneath headphones that rested like a crown, music turned low or maybe not playing at all. The world hadn’t disappeared around her—it simply waited for her permission to exist in her mind.

A flannel hung from her shoulders, sleeves rolled just slightly enough to reveal her wrists too precise to be unintentional. The shirt was soft, broken-in, but unmistakably tailored. Its muted pattern didn’t shout money, but it whispered it. If you studied the seams, the buttons, the way it fell—it became clear: this was wealth disguised as ease. Likely worth five hundred dollars, yet she wore it like it was no more than a memory, like something she grabbed from her closet without any afterthought.

Around her neck, a silver chain sparkled with each flicker of overhead light—small diamonds catching movement. The diamonds weren’t loud. They didn’t need to be. It was the kind of necklace someone gave you when they wanted the world to notice your put together appearance without knowing exactly why.

On one wrist, a Cartier watch sat with the confidence of old money. A minimal and sleek silver.

“Is this seat taken?”

Azzi’s voice was a little raspy but smooth, a voice you’d want to hear first thing in the morning as sunlight poured through the window. A voice you’d want to fall asleep to at night with moonlight shining in. Paige didn’t stir, didn’t open her eyes. Her head remained tilted against the train’s headrest.

“It’s yours,” she murmured, the words slipping past her lips without much thought. Not unkind, just uninterested. Or better yet maybe...practiced.

Azzi nodded to no one, slipping into the seat diagonally across from the woman. Close enough to catch the trace of her cologne—something subtle, woodsy, expensive—but far enough not to trespass. Azzi respected space, understood the intimacy of sitting in your own silence.

The train rocked gently on its path. Neither of them spoke.

Minutes passed, unmeasured. The two of them drift into their own headspace.

Then Paige opens her eyes.

The light hits her face as if the sun had been waiting for this moment. She blinked against it a few times—her sensitive blue eyes taking time to adjust. Then she turns slightly, catching sight of the woman seated diagonally in front of her.

The woman looked like she’d walked out of a still from a Wes Anderson film: timeless, styled with effort and intention. Her dark hair was swept into a ponytail that managed to be messy and meticulous, a few curls softening the edges of her cheekbones falling off the side. Her sleeveless, light blue button-up vest clung like it was tailored to her specifically. Jewelry dotted her wrists, ears and neck—all delicate silver, placed like punctuation marks in what was already a perfect sentence. The woman was beautiful—in the objective kind of way, where no one with eyes would suggest she was anything but breathtaking.

In her hands, Man’s Search for Meaning sat cracked open, a finger gently marking her place as she read.

Paige slid her headphones down, the padded muffs resting around her collar now. SZA’s voice spilling into the air between them.

“That’s a good book,” Paige said, her voice clearer now—low, melodic, suggesting she was interested in the words coming out of her mouth this time around.

The sound of Paige’s voice caught Azzi slightly off guard. Her gaze lifted from the page, and for the first time, their eyes met. The stranger had soft blue eyes, holding a quiet intimacy—a gentless that you wouldn’t expect from a stranger.

Azzi didn’t smile with her mouth—just her eyes, a soft curve at the corners.

“First time reading it,” she replied simply.

Paige tilted her head slightly, a small smile on her face. “It’s a little heavy for a train ride.”

Azzi looked down at the book, then back up at her, shrugging gently. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s perfect for a train ride.”

Paige studied her for a moment—something about the calmness in her tone, the steadiness in her hands, in her demeanor.

She noticed Azzi was nearly at the end of the book. A well-worn ribbon tucked near the final pages.

“Let me know what you think when you’re done.”

And just like that, she slid her headphones back over her ears, SZA’s voice soft as it filled her space once more. Her eyes closed, lashes casting faint shadows on her cheeks as the train pushed forward.

Azzi didn’t say anything. Just watched her for a moment longer, then looked back down at the book.

Neither of them knew how much time had passed.

The world outside the window shifted like watercolor paint—blurred towns, trees, sun slipping between clouds in pale golden streaks. The steady hum of the train stitched time together in long invisible threads. Paige rested against the seat, still and composed, while Azzi sat with her legs crossed, the book now finished and resting closed in her lap.

The words had clung to her, page after page, until there was nothing left to turn. Now, she stared out the window, letting the weight of the words settle. Her reflection ghosted back at her in the window, soft brown eyes caught somewhere between thought and feeling.

After a while, she glanced over.

Paige hadn’t moved—head tilted back, lashes low, headphones still hugging her ears. There was a softness to her face that hadn’t been there before. As if sleep had touched her, but hadn’t quite taken her.

Azzi wanted to say something. She wasn’t sure what. Maybe you were right—it is heavy. Or maybe something lighter, like what would you recommend next?

She didn’t speak. She just looked.

Somehow, Paige felt it. Her eyes opened slowly, as if the weight of Azzi’s gaze had stirred her awake.

Blue met brown—warm and cool at the same time.

Neither one of them smiled at first. It was just a quiet acknowledgement.

Paige turned off the music, the faint hum of SZA slipping into memory as she slid her headphones off. She looked over again, her blue eyes resting gently on Azzi’s profile.

“What’d you think?”

Azzi didn’t answer right away. She exhaled slowly, like the words she was about to speak needed space to sort themselves out.

“It’s one of those books that sits with you,” she said. “Not because it’s trying to impress you with anything fancy, it just tells the truth—and lets that be enough.”

She turned to Paige a little more. “Frankl’s way of looking at suffering—how it’s not something to be avoided, but something to lean into, to find meaning through it—it feels I don’t know...like progressive writing. Especially now, when everyone’s always trying to escape discomfort. He doesn’t preach, either. He just tells you what he saw. What he lived.”

Paige watched her closely nodding along, letting the words settle before speaking. “You’ve read it before?”

Azzi shook her head. “First time. But I think I’ll come back to it.”

Paige smiled, a small nod accompanying her reply. “I’ve read it a few times. I think it’s one of those books that means something different depending on when you pick it up.”

That made Azzi pause as she thought about it. A slow smile blooming at the edges of her lips. “That’s a really beautiful way to put it.”

They sat with that thought, letting the silence stretch again—not empty, but reflective.

Azzi’s voice came again, softer now. “But...it’s not your favorite.”

A statement, not a question.

Paige’s lips curved—not into a smile exactly, but something close. “It’s not.”

Azzi tilted her head. “So what is?”

Paige leaned back, letting her gaze drift to the ceiling of the train car before finding Azzi again.

“Parable of the Sower.”

Azzi’s eyes lit up, recognition flickering through her expression. “By Octavia Butler? Why?”

“Well, it’s post-apocalyptic for one,” Paige said, half-grinning.

Azzi chuckled.

“But really,” Paige continued, the humor softening into something more serious, “I like her take on things we don’t usually give enough credit to. Empathy. Fear. Despair. Jealousy. Desperation. Love. Resilience. Hope.”

She said each word with care, like she wasn’t just listing themes—but naming something deeply thought about a few times.

Azzi looked at her quietly, her gaze drifting for a moment to the delicate silver cross resting against the expensive flannel—how it caught the light in flashes, just like the diamonds along the chain.

“And religion,” Azzi added gently.

Paige looked at her, a faint smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Her take on a religious and universal journey...together. It’s not something you see often. Not done like that really.”

Azzi hummed softly in agreement, a thoughtful sound that lingered between them.

Paige shifted, eyes studying Azzi’s expression now. “Are you religious?” she asked, voice a little softer, like she wasn’t sure how far she could go. “I am sorry if that’s...too much. I don’t mean to offend. It’s just not everyday I can have a natural conversation with someone.”

Azzi shook her head, not dismissive—just sincere. “No,” she said quietly. “It’s not too much.”

She looked out the window again, the landscape blurring past. A beat passed. Then another, before she spoke. “I’ve been trying to find my footing with religion,” she admitted, fingers tracing a seam on her vest. “There’s... a pull there. But there’s also a lot of confusion.”

Paige nodded once, encouraging her silently.

Azzi sighed softly. “One—I don’t really know how to study the Bible. People say just read it front to back, but that’s not...realistic for me in all honestly. It’s like trying to drink the ocean.”

Paige let out a quiet chuckle—brief, but full of understanding.

“And two,” Azzi continued, gaze lowering, voice quieter now. “I’m gay so that’s a whole nother thing.”

Azzi didn’t look up right away, not fully wanting to see the reaction. But Paige didn’t flinch, didn’t shift away.

Instead, she thought. Let the quiet settle without trying to rush past it.

Finally she said, “You know, the word ‘homosexual’ didn't appear in any Bible translation until 1946.”

Azzi’s head tilted slightly, a flicker of surprise lighting her eyes.

Paige went on, calmly. “In the original German Bible from the 1800s, Leviticus doesn’t say ‘a man shall not lie with a man.’ It says, ‘a man shall not lie with young boys, as he does with a woman.’”

Azzi studied her as she continued, voice thoughtful, as if she’d carried this information closely for a long time. As if she’d studied it herself, for her own comfort.

“And in Corinthians... the term that’s now translated as ‘homosexuals’ It used to mean ‘boy molesters.’ Not consensual love between adults.

Azzi looked at her now—not just intrigued, but changed, slightly. Like something inside her had loosened. “No one’s ever told me that,” she said softly.

Paige shrugged, a touch of humility in the gesture. “Most people haven’t been told. That’s kind of the problem.”

Azzi was quiet, her gaze steady, curious now in a gentler way. “Have you always been religious?”

Paige let out a slow breath, eyes drifting toward the window for a moment before returning to Azzi. “I’ve always been Christian,” she said. “Went to church with my stepmother growing up. But I didn’t really start appreciating religion—God…the universe, the importance of it all—until college.”

Azzi tilted her head slightly, inviting more without needing to ask. Still, she did, softly: “How?”

Paige thought about it. She didn’t rush, and the silence stretched. The train hummed beneath them like a heartbeat keeping their conversation alive.

“I had…” she paused, adjusting the words in her mind before letting them pass her lips, “have…a lot of eyes on me. Expectations. Pressure. I didn’t always understand why certain things were happening. Why things felt so heavy, even when it looked like I was doing everything right.”

Azzi nodded faintly, something familiar stirring in her eyes.

“I was in the same boat you’re in,” Paige continued. “Didn’t get how reading the Bible cover to cover was supposed to help. Didn’t even know where to begin. But then one day I was struggling with understanding myself, life, everything. Then I heard a verse—Proverbs 3:5-6.”

She shifted slightly in her seat as she recited:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will direct your path.”

The words hung in the space between them, Paige watching the stranger across from her take them in.

“I don’t know,” Paige added, eyes distant, “something about that…hearing it at the right time, it felt like permission. To stop needing to know everything. To stop solving everything on my own.”

Azzi watched her, her hands now loosely folded over the book in her lap, the weight of their conversation replacing the words on the page.

“That’s amazing,” Azzi said finally.

There was a reverence in her voice—not for the verse alone, but for the way Paige carried it, the way she presented it to her.

Azzi didn’t say anything for a moment, but her eyes hadn’t left Paige’s. There was a softness to her silence—not hesitation, but reflection. The train rocked gently beneath them, the metallic sigh of tracks slipping beneath wheels like a quiet agreement to stay in motion.

After a moment, Azzi spoke. “I’ve always felt like religion and science couldn’t live in the same room. Like you had to pick a side.”

Paige’s lips curled slightly, not in amusement—but in understanding. This stranger reminded Paige of her journey, of her questions at the beginning.

“I used to think that too,” she said, opening herself up more, spreading her legs. “But I don’t anymore.”

She glanced out the window for a second—trees blurring like thoughts too fast to name—before looking back.

“I believe in science. In research, in biology, in the way our bodies hold memory. I think evolution is beautiful, and the human brain is a miracle. But I also think we’re made of more than matter like science mentions.”

Azzi was still watching her, head tilted now in quiet intrigue.

“I don’t think faith and science cancel each other out,” Paige continued. “I think they’re both trying to answer the same questions. Just...using different languages.”

The words landed softly, like snow on top of a roof on christmas morning.

Azzi leaned back, arms now crossed loosely. “So for you, it’s not one or the other.”

Paige shook her head gently. “No. It’s both. It has to be. I need the facts—need to understand the world around me. But I also need something to hold when the facts don’t comfort me. When life doesn’t make sense. And sometimes...it just doesn’t and you have to turn to faith.”

Azzi smiled at that, a quiet smile that touched the corner of her lips but lived mostly in her eyes.

Paige mirrored it, before adding, “Faith, for me, isn’t about certainty. It’s about surrender. It’s about connection. About knowing there’s something bigger than me—something good—whether I understand it all the time or not.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The silence between them wasn’t empty—it was full. Full of things they didn’t have to say. Of questions they’d been holding separately, now slowly untangling together.

Azzi looked down at the book in her lap again, then back at Paige. “I think I’ve been afraid to want that,” she said. “To want something bigger for myself.”

Paige’s blue eyes were quiet, inviting. “What kind of afraid?” she asked softly.

Azzi’s lips parted, like the question caught her off guard—but not in a bad way. More like she hadn’t expected someone to care enough to ask. She looked down, thumb brushing the edge of the book’s cover, then up again.

“The kind that tells you you’re asking for too much,” she said slowly. “Like…if I let myself want more—hope for more—I’ll either disappoint myself or disappoint everyone else. And I don’t know which is worse.”

The train hummed around them, a cocoon of steel holding their words in.

“I grew up in a house where everything had to make sense. My parents are...rational. Practical. We didn’t talk about God. We talked about scholarships. Five-year plans. My career. Faith was…optional. Sentimental.”

She paused, and Paige didn’t fill the silence. She let Azzi find the rest of her words herself.

“So I built my life like that—measurable, structured, focused. But sometimes I feel like I’m living inside a blueprint that someone else drew for me. And when it gets quiet—when I’m not moving—I start wondering if I even know what I believe. Or who I am without all the plans.”

Her voice didn’t tremble, but something in her hands did—a quick twitch, just enough to make Paige notice the way she clasped her fingers together, grounding herself.

Paige exhaled slowly, not to interrupt, but to remind Azzi she was still listening. Still there.

Azzi glanced out the window, then back again. “Sometimes I think I’m scared to believe in something bigger because I don’t want to find out it won’t believe in me. What I’ve done with life.”

Paige’s expression softened—almost imperceptibly, but enough. There was no pity in her face, only understanding, like she recognized the weight of those words because she’d carried something similar.

“I don’t think it works like that,” she said quietly. “God doesn’t wait around deciding who’s worthy. I think He’s just always there. Always believing in you. It’s just…” She paused, gathering her thoughtsl. “Sometimes we forget to believe in ourselves. Or we think we need to be perfect before we can approach something sacred.”

Azzi looked down at her hands, turning them over as she played with one of her rings, like she might find something written in the lines of her palms.

“But what if you don’t know how to approach it?” she asked. “What if you don’t know how to…start? To get your footing.”

“You don’t need a perfect entry point,” Paige said. “You don’t need to have all the answers or some special prayer. That’s the thing. Everyone has their own relationship with God. It doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s. And it doesn’t have to be loud or traditional. It can be quiet. Curious. It can start right here. Talking to a stranger on the train.”

Azzi’s eyes lifted slowly to meet hers. “What does it look like for you?”

Paige thought for a long moment. The train rumbling beneath them.

“It changes,” she said honestly. “Some days it’s gratitude—being thankful for the privilege I have. Some days it’s asking questions. Some days it’s just being still enough to listen. But when I really need something to hold onto, I go back to certain verses. They’re like anchors. Holding you in place when you start to drift away from what matters.”

Azzi tilted her head. “Like Proverbs?”

Paige smiled a little, nodding. “Yeah. But there’s one that I think might settle with you. Isaiah 41:10.”

She said it gently, her voice a low current:

“‘Do not fear, for I am with you. Do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.’”

Azzi didn’t speak. But the verse hung between them for a moment.

Then Paige added, softer, “You’re never alone in this world. Even when you feel like it.”

The words didn’t ask anything of Azzi. They didn’t push or preach. They just rested gently in the space between them, like light filtering through a half-closed window.

Azzi blinked slowly, like she was holding the words carefully, trying to decide where to place them inside herself. Then finally she offered a quiet: “Thank you.”

Paige’s smile was genuine. “Of course.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy—it was full, like something sacred had passed between them. But eventually, curiosity nudged its way back in, as it always does between strangers learning one another.

Azzi moved a curl that was in her face and asked, “What’s your profession?”

Paige let out a soft laugh, already anticipating the shift in Azzi’s expression. “You’re expecting something noble, huh?” she teased.

Azzi grinned, the edges of her lips tugging up. “Something like that.”

“Well,” Paige said, a sparkle in her eyes, “I dribble a ball for a living.”

Azzi blinked. “You what?”

“I play basketball,” Paige added, laughing now. “Professionally. Dallas Wings.”

Azzi leaned back in her seat, eyes wide with pleasant surprise. “You’re serious?”

“As a buzzer-beater in the fourth.”

The laughter between them was easy now.

“What about you?” Paige asked, still smiling, still watching her.

Azzi hesitated for just a second—just long enough for Paige to catch it. Then she said, “Modeling.”

Paige’s lips curved into a charming smile. “I can see that.”

Azzi tilted her head slightly, almost playfully. “You can?”

Paige nodded, her eyes never leaving her. “You have that kind of beauty that doesn’t ask for attention. It just… has it. Effortless. Like it doesn’t even know it’s happening.”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard again—this time by the way the compliment landed. Not abrasive or showy. Not some throwaway flirtation meant to flatter and move on. There was something soft in it.

Most people gave her compliments that came at her like flashes of a camera—bright, loud, and gone too fast. But this—this felt like light through curtains. Poetic. Kind. Genuine.

She offered a smile then, the real one—the one that started in her eyes and unfolded slowly across her lips.

“Thank you,” she said, quiet again, but not shy.

“Wait…” Paige said, her voice cutting softly through the quiet between them. “I’m sorry, I never got your name.”

Azzi smiled, turning slightly in her seat as she extended her hand. “Azzi.”

Paige took it, her fingers brushing Azzi’s delicately. Her eyes stayed on Azzi’s, even as her lips parted to repeat it. “Azzi,” she echoed, like she was tasting the name. “That’s beautiful.”

Azzi’s expression shifted—something flickered, soft and pleased, almost shy for the first time.

“It suits you,” Paige added.

Azzi’s smile grew.

Paige held her hand just a moment longer before gently saying, “Paige.”

Their handshake wasn’t really a handshake at this point. It was a pause in time. An invitation wrapped in eye contact and the gentle stroke of Paige’s thumb on the back of Azzi’s hand.

Then Azzi slowly pulled back, but her gaze lingered just a little longer before she sank into her seat again.

The train hummed beneath them. Neither spoke, but the quiet between them felt anything but empty. They both watched the world blur past the window—flashes of trees and towns stitched together by tracks.

But Azzi’s gaze kept drifting, again and again, back to Paige.

She watched the way Paige’s fingers moved in slow, thoughtful patterns—thumb brushing over the edge of her nail, a subtle press to the pad of her ring finger. The light caught her Cartier watch with each motion, glinting in soft pulses that felt strangely hypnotic.

It was peaceful. Intimate in a way neither had expected.

Paige felt the eyes on her before she saw them. She turned, met Azzi’s gaze, and offered a small smile.

“So,” she said, her tone inquisitive, “what has you heading to New York?”

Azzi blinked, as if she was caught daydreaming, then let out a breath. “Vogue,” she said. “They’re doing a ‘day in the life’ spread. Should be flattering—or terrifying.”

Paige lifted an eyebrow, impressed. “Vogue huh?”

Azzi shrugged, but the corner of her mouth curled up. “Apparently, they think my life’s interesting enough.”

Paige grinned. “They’re not wrong.”

“What about you?”

“Nike thing,” Paige said simply. “A promo event.”

There was another stretch of quiet, not awkward. Just making room for reflection.

And then, as if pulled by the same thread, they both spoke at once:

“So why the train?”

They paused, eyes meeting. Laughter stirred in their throats.

“You first,” Azzi said, gesturing.

Paige shifted slightly in her seat, one arm draped over the armrest as she looked out the window, then back at Azzi.

“Airports are a nightmare for me,” she said. “It’s too loud. Too many eyes. People either recognize me or think they do, and even if they don’t, the energy is just...heavy with eyes on me.”

Azzi watched her, listening more than looking.

“On the train,” Paige continued, “it’s quieter. More grounded. People mind their business. Or they talk like you and I are talking. There's something almost romantic about it.”

She glanced at the window again, the scenery moving like brushstrokes in motion—riverbanks, trees, the occasional structure blinking past like a memory.

“I like the way it all moves by,” she said. “Like the world’s telling a story and you get to just watch. No rushing. No pressure. Just…stillness in motion.”

Azzi nodded, smiling softly. “Yeah. It’s slower, but that’s the point. You get to actually be in it. The moment.”

Paige looked at her then—really looked. The light hit Azzi’s face just right, illuminating the soft golds in her skin, the quiet curve of her cheek.

“And,” Paige added, a slow smile tugging at the corner of her lips, “sharing a train car with a beautiful girl who still believes in real conversation—who’ll talk to a stranger about books and God like it’s the most natural thing in the world—that feels like a rare kind of reward.”

Azzi’s lips parted just slightly, surprised—but she didn’t look away. She smiled instead, a little breathless, as if the compliment had landed in a place rarely touched.

Their conversation found its way back to that quiet space again—words woven like threads between long stretches of silence, both of them gazing out the window as the afternoon light shifted golden.

Azzi broke the stillness first, her voice low but certain. “Do you think…God speaks to people?”

Paige turned her head. “Yeah,” she said, after a beat. “Just not always in the way we expect.”

Azzi nodded slowly, as if tucking the answer into the folds of her mind. Then Paige leaned down and unzipped the bag at her feet, pulling out a worn book with gilded edges and a cracked spine. She handed it across the aisle without a word.

Azzi took it gently, fingers brushing Paige’s just for a second. “What’s this?”

“Mythology,” Paige said. “Most of the stories are in there. I’ve had that since college.”

Azzi began to hand it back. “I can’t take it. Just tell me the title, I’ll find it.”

But Paige shook her head. “No, I want you to have it.”

Azzi hesitated, unsure how to respond to the quiet generosity.

“Mythology gives shape to things,” Paige continued, her voice more like thought than sound. “It holds the metaphors that religion is built on. The stories that came before the verses. I started reading it when I was young—before I ever picked up a Bible. Now I read both. One teaches me how to believe. The other, stories of why we need to.”

Azzi ran her thumb along the edges of the worn pages, flipping gently through the book. Tucked between myths were scribbled notes in the margins—fragments of thoughts, connections to scripture, little arrows linking one world to another. She paused on a page where someone—Paige—had written grace isn’t always gentle, but it’s always there.

Her smile was faint.

Paige watched her, eyes soft, the corner of her mouth lifting at the sight of Azzi so focused, so careful. She didn’t say anything, but something in her chest settled, like a weight she hadn’t known she was carrying had shifted into place.

Azzi glanced up, catching Paige’s gaze before returning to the book, something tender flickering behind her lashes.

She felt quietly lucky—because this athlete sitting across from her, this kind, gorgeous athlete with a voice that was warm and a heart full of questions, had a depth most people didn’t bother to reach for. A thoughtfulness that felt rare. Sacred.

And Paige… Paige was quietly amazed that this genuine, stunning model wasn’t just curious—she was searching for connection. For understanding. For meaning. Azzi looked like a dream, but here she was—interested in the fabric of the world, not just how it dressed.

They sat like that for a few moments, both of them holding something unspoken but warm.

Stillness never feeling so full.

Azzi finally spoke, her voice laced with the softness of the moment. “How have I never met you before?”

Paige leaned her head back against the seat again, the corner of her mouth twitching into a small smile. “I’m a homebody,” she said, almost like a confession. “Games and promo events—that’s about it. Manager makes sure I keep the image clean.”

Azzi’s eyebrow lifted. “Seems squeaky clean to me. You’re sitting here giving out mythology books to strangers on trains.”

Paige laughed. “Touché.”

Then, with a glance that lingered a little too long, Paige added, “How have I not heard of you? I’m pretty into the fashion world.”

“Not sure,” Azzi said, completely honest. “I’m kind of everywhere in that world.”

Paige’s laugh was warm and genuine—the kind that made people want to hear it again. “A little humility wouldn’t kill you Azzi.”

Azzi grinned, eyes sparkling. “I’m just being honest.”

Outside the window, the skyline had begun to bloom—New York creeping in, bold and inevitable.

Azzi glanced out the window, then back at Paige. “Looks like we’re almost there.”

Paige nodded, watching her more than the view. “Shame. I was just starting to enjoy the scenery.”

Azzi didn’t look away this time. “You mean the skyline?” she asked playfully, but her voice was lower now, like she didn't want to break whatever spell had settled between them during the train ride.

Paige smirked, eyes still on her. “Something like that.”

Their silence wasn’t empty—it pulsed with everything left unsaid. The city stretched out before them now, but neither one of them moved to gather their things just yet.

Azzi ran her finger along the spine of the mythology book Paige had given her. “You ever think about how strange it is…the way strangers meet? How sometimes the smallest decision—taking the train instead of flying—becomes something that lingers? That changes your life?”

Paige’s gaze softened. “I think about that a lot more than I’d like to admit.”

“Do you think moments like this mean something?”

Paige didn’t answer right away. She leaned back slightly, the light glinting off the diamond cross at her neck, her voice quiet when it came. “I think the universe has its way of folding people toward each other. Even if it’s just for a conversation.”

Azzi held her breath for a beat, then exhaled slowly. “And if it’s not just a conversation?”

The train began to slow, brakes humming like a quiet sigh.

Paige’s smile returned. “Then I guess we’d be wise not to waste the moment.”

With that, Paige slid her phone out of the pocket of her pants—the first time either of them had broken the spell of analog stillness. The screen lit up, a quiet glow against the fading sunlight outside the window.

“I figured a phone number might be too forward,” she said gently, almost with a smile, as she opened Instagram and turned the screen toward Azzi.

Azzi took it typing in her name before she tapped “Follow,” the quiet gesture speaking louder than it should have. Then, reaching into her own bag, Azzi pulled out her phone to do the same.

On both screens, their profiles flickered into focus—millions of followers between them. Faces they would never meet. Names they’d never know. Yet, the list of who they each followed was strikingly sparse. Paige followed just 129. Azzi, only 57.

Until now.

Azzi hit follow back and Paige saw it shift in real time—57 became 58.

Azzi glanced up, that same half-smile still playing at the edge of her lips. “Guess I’ll be seeing more of your world.”

Paige held her gaze, slipping her phone back into her pocket. “Maybe I’ll get a first-person point of view of yours someday.”

Azzi's smile deepened, quiet and sincere. “I’d like that.”

The train gave a soft lurch as it rolled to a stop beneath the city. They stood, gathering their things in an unspoken rhythm.

“Let me know what you think of it,” Paige said, more of a request than instruction.

“I will,” Azzi promised, then added with a quiet spark in her tone, “Read The Body Keeps the Score. It’s not mythology, but...it lingers.”

Paige nodded, tucking the title away with care, as they stepped out into the station, the cool underground air brushing against their skin like the first breath of something new.

Together, they moved up into the city, footsteps echoing in tandem until they reached the street—where, waiting side by side, were their blacked-out SUVs. Different lives, different destinations, but somehow the same arrival.

Before they climbed into their respective vehicles, something caught their eye. Just across the street, Times Square pulsed with light—and there, almost absurd in its timing, were two billboards.

One of Paige in motion, captured mid-jump shot in a Nike ad, muscles coiled in a perfect capture. The other of Azzi, frozen in a soft gaze, draped in something impossibly elegant under the bold white serif of Vogue.

They looked at each other, then back at the glowing billboards.

A small, disbelieving laugh escaped Azzi.

Paige’s grin mirrored it, a gentle shake of her head as she opened the door to her car. “Only in New York.”

Their eyes lingered for a beat longer—long enough for something unspoken to be shared, folded neatly between them—before they both slid into their separate cars, the doors closing behind them.

And just like that, the city swallowed them up.

Both of their phones stirred to life—screens lighting up like small galaxies in their hands.

It started slowly: a trickle of notifications, then a flood. Whispers turned wonder.

“Wait… Paige Bueckers and Azzi Fudd?”

“No way my two worlds are colliding.”

“The athlete and the model?? Need it real bad”

“They just followed each other. No way.”

Some posts came dressed in exclamation points, others wrapped in heart-eyed emojis or slowed-down screenshots of them on the train taken discreetly. Fans speculated like poets, reading into silence, into timing.

In the vast, digital noise of the world, something soft was happening. Not confirmed. Not denied. Just noticed.

And somewhere in the backseat of two separate SUVs, Paige and Azzi each looked down at their glowing screens, smiled, and let the moment live.

Quietly. Like a secret blooming.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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ahgasegotarmy116 · 5 months ago

Text

BANG-ABLE | Jeon Jungkook | Drabble 1

Summary: When your very curious robot boyfriend finds all of your old sex toys. Pairing: f!reader x Sex Bot Jungkook Word Count: 2k~ Warnings: Smut but that goes without saying for this fic p.s. I put out a mini drabble as well right before this in case you didn't catch it hehe p.p.s I have another temperature play drabble request so keep an eye out for that one in the future 🤭 Requested by an anon 💜

"What are these?" Jungkook asks when he walks into the living room where I'm sat down watching Hidden Love for the fifth time, holding up my little black box that I had hidden away and had completely forgotten about.

"NOTHING!" I say hurriedly, scrambling to get off the couch and tripping over the blanket I was using in the process. I regain my footing, run up to him and reach for the box but he holds it over my head, completely out of my reach.

"Are you cheating on me?" he teases, the objects in the box being ones I used before I got him. "You seriously think I would use those anymore? Now give it here!" I jump but once my fingers just barely touch it he grabs onto my hips to keep me from trying again.

I glare, waiting for him to give them back and when all I'm given is a stupid smug smile I resort to threats. "Give that to me or I will turn you off and make you charge on the floor instead of in bed with me" his eyes widen, not expecting that and deciding to do as I say, handing me the box of various sex toys that could never truly satisfy me.

"Why do you have so many?" he asks, picking up one very elaborate and confusing looking one that I snatch out of his hand immediately and put back in the box, shoving it in the back of my closet.

"Because none of them did everything I wanted them to" I sigh and close the door in hopes to help change the subject. When I try to walk past him though he stops me by wrapping an arm around my waist and bringing me back to stand in front of him.

"I don't know why I asked since I know how needy my baby is" he says, his voice dropping a bit while he places kisses on my neck, knowing that'll help take the edge off.

"Why do you always have to go through my t-things?" I stutter, my resolve of trying to stay upset with him faltering. "Because I wanna know everything about you baby, and that includes all of your dirty little secrets" he says directly into my ear before sucking on the sensitive skin right below.

I shudder at the thought of letting him in that much and I know I will eventually but his want to figure out as many ways as he can to please me on his own is way too fun to experience, no matter how embarrassing it might seem.

"You like that huh? The thought of me knowing everything about you, all your deepest darkest desires that you haven't even dared to say out loud. My baby likes to hide that away huh? Too afraid to even tell me what she wants sometimes. That's pretty selfish don't you think?" he says, his grip on my waist tightening when he pulls me closer, his sensors picking up on my arousal and in turn hardening his length for me to use as I see fit.

"Why don't you let me use some of those on you tonight hm? Or better yet, let me watch you use them to get yourself off. I bet you'd look adorable, so frustrated and begging for release but never quite getting exactly what you wanted" he says but I shake my head.

"Too cold, want you" his presence tonight being one that drove me into submission so easily. I can't help but become putty in his hands sometimes. He was made for me and knows exactly what I like so why not give into what his programing is telling him to do to me.

"Aw, too cold for you? Needed me to warm you up?" he says, his condescending way of talking to me one of the easiest ways to tip me into that submissive headspace, only with him though. With him things are different. With him I know I'm safe.

I nod my head and my lip juts out the slightest bit leaving him running his thumb along it before I decide to open my mouth and run my tongue across it. His robotic pupils dilate as if they were human and the next second I'm on my back on my bed, him hovering over me with that sexy smug look on his face.

"Does my pretty baby want something?" he asks, caressing my cheek with a featherlight touch, and I blink up at him, still reeling from his sudden actions. He hums as a way to get my attention on him again, wanting me to answer his question.

"Want you" I say, hoping he'll accept my simple answer but I know he won't settle for that. "You've gotta be a little more specific love" he teases making me huff. "Oh come on, be a good girl for me and tell me what you want hm?" he mumbles and peppers kisses all along my neck and collarbone, having worn just a tank top and shorts today.

His hands heat up and run along my skin, warming me up just like he said he would but suddenly his hands turn ice cold, making me push him away but as always he doesn't budge at all.

"What the matter love?" he taunts, his hands quickly going back to a normal temperature. "Don't do that" I scowl, not liking the sudden change. "Lemme play around a bit yeah? Wanna try something" he says, clearly ignoring my scolding.

I squint my eyes at him when he looks down at me, a stupidly tempting look on his face. "Just trust me" he says, leaning down to mumble it against my lips, just barely kissing me before pulling back and looking at me again for confirmation.

After thinking for a couple more seconds I nod my head and he tongues his cheek, a habit that he picked up from who knows where but something that's become so sexy to me and he knows it.

He helps me strip out of my clothes and lets out a groan in approval, running his fingers through my folds.

"Baby is so wet for me already and I've barely done anything. How adorable. Been waiting all day for me to touch you huh?" he says, watching as my mouth falls open when he applies pressure on my clit just how I like it, tracing circles around it and alternating with just barely dipping a finger into my entrance, never giving me what I really want, playing with me just like he said he would.

When his fingers start to touch me with more precision, one finger pumping inside of me while his thumb circles my clit I feel that same chill run though my body and I realize his hands have gone cold inside me making me yelp and back away from him but he growls and uses his other hand to grip my hip pinning me down on the bed to keep me from moving.

"Stay still for me love, promise it'll feel good" he says and I decide to trust him. He knows what my body wants and what it can handle, the signs to look out for to know what's going on in my head.

"So good for me" he says, kissing me and starting to pump his fingers in and out of me again, adding a second one right away but switching the temperature back to a warmer one to help with the stretch.

Once he starts to feel that I've gotten used to the intrusion he changes the temperature just cold enough so I can feel it, my back arching as the only way I can move about since he's still got my hips pinned against the mattress.

"Shh I know I know. You can take it though, it's just a little cold love" he coaches, his cold fingers dragging along my warm walls making me wince. "This is w-why I stopped using them, t-too cold" I admit although I already had before, hoping that in some way that would make him stop but he doesn't.

"You know I'll take care of you though" he says, the temperature of his fingers changing back to normal now, giving me a bit of a breather but soon he's pulling them out of me making me wince for another reason.

"Where are you going?" I whine but he only laughs and gets off the bed to take off his clothes before crawling back on top of me. "My baby is so impatient, aren't you?" he chuckles, settling between my legs and dragging his tip along my folds, his brows furrowed in concentration while collecting my slick and rubbing it all over his cock.

"Just put it in already, please" I basically cry out, the temperature play leaving me incredible sensitive and he knows it, not letting up with this sick form of torture. He places his tip against my entrance, not pushing in and just teasing my hole and when I open my mouth to protest he shoves himself into me, knocking the wind out of me, his response a hum, clearly satisfied with the results of his actions.

"Couldn't even wait for me to fuck you like I wanted to, needed my cock in you so bad that you couldn't even shut up and wait. Thought you wanted to be good for me tonight" he grunts, slamming into me at a relentless pace, his robotic strength being unparalleled in bed. I sob, the intensity and the need to catch my breath overwhelming me in the best way possible but when he chances the temperature of his dick I'm screaming for him to change it back.

"Stop running" he growls, grabbing my hips and sitting back on his heels so he can fuck me onto him, pushing and pulling my hips so fast making my breasts bounce up and down. "Fuck play with your tits. Wanna ruin you but my baby can lend me a hand or two can't she?" he says, talking down to me like I'm fucking stupid when I clearly am, cock drunk and barely able to see straight.

I slowly bring my hands up my torso, ghosting my fingers along my breasts, "S-shit" he stutters, his programing really playing the part and making me moan at his reaction. "Play with your nipples baby, get them nice and hard for me" he says, his hands dragging my hips back and forth making his length disappear inside of me over and over, never ceasing making my cock drunk mind go blurry, my reaction speed severely diminished.

He decides to give me a breather, stopping his movements and putting his fingers in my mouth, my lips closing around them right away. "Make a mess baby" he say, encouraging me to get them as wet as possible, my tongue swirling around them, a pool of saliva now gathered and making a complete mess, exactly how he wanted.

He takes them out of my mouth and my brows furrow, not wanting to stop since the approving gaze he gave me while I did it being something I didn't want to give up just yet. He chuckles and rubs his fingers together, making sure his thumb, pointer and middle finger are covered before using them to play with my nipple making me whine at the harsh pressure.

"Shh it's okay, I got you" he coaches, the cold temperature making my nipples harden painfully, goosebumps now present all over my body.

"My baby gets so cold so easily. Want me to warm you up again?" he taunts and I nod my head, the rate of his thrusts though making it difficult to decipher but he knows and so he switches to a warmer temperature making me sigh in delight. It quickly goes from too cold to way too warm making me moan in delight, the scorching temperature being painfully pleasurable.

"Don't worry baby, it's not gonna leave a mark, I wouldn't hurt my pretty girl. Unless she wanted me to" he says, the offer enticing enough to make me think twice but I shake my head 'no' and he takes it.

"Baby doesn't wanna be branded? That's okay, I'll take good care of you" he coos and that he does.

Over and over and over.

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