Haiii

Haiii❤

Love your writing btw

How woud loser!König react to seeing you wiht a guy friend?? Woud he kill them, be angry, or eaven exsplode😱

Loser!König has always dealt with anger issues, since he was a young boy, enraged at the world for being a social outcast and labelled as a ‘monster’, or a ‘freak”. He can't handle his jealousy and envy, not at all.

He doesn't care if it's your brother or a family member – he doesn't like the thought of you being close with another man. König is insanely creepy and protective he is of you, attempting to shelter you from the world and selfishly keep you all for himself. He doesn't let you live your life how you want to, that includes going out with friends, or going to family reunions. He expects you to ask him before doing something, for permission, as if he has authority and control over you. He has to make sure you're safe, anything could happen to a pretty girl like you, you know that, right?

König has so much resentment and rage towards your childhood best friend. He's incredibly frustrated that you're so close, since birth almost. It doesn't matter that you're ‘just friends’ or whatever bullshit spews from your mouth, you shouldn't be that close to another man, especially when you have a boyfriend supervising the pair of you to make sure that he doesn't get up to anything, become perverted and overly touchy, or attempt to hit on you.

You've noticed that it's always with conventionally attractive men that he has a problem with, never the off-putting, hideous men that remind König of himself. It's clear envy, for their confidence, how they've never had to worry a day in their lives because of their appearance and looks and how that allows them to get whatever they desire. König will talk shit about your closest friends while you sit there, rubbing at the back of your neck uncomfortably as he degrades your friends for doing something he doesn't approve of. Why would you want to surround yourself with these people, Mäusi? He's much more interesting.

König will check your phone while you're asleep or busy taking a shower – without your consent, of course! It's all to make sure that you're not talking to another man. He's looking out for you, that's all. König tries to put the blame on your close friends rather than humiliate and ridicule you for it. You could cause no harm, you're his sweet angel. He'll shame them while burying his face in your breasts, gritting his teeth at the thought of them having you one day. They'll never touch the skin he has, or fill the holes that he's stuffed. He'll make sure of it.

He'll message them messages on your behalf without your knowledge, then delete their contacts from your phone. You know exactly who to blame when your beloved childhood best friend begins to ignore you with a clear frown visible on his pathetic face.

bull!simon & cow!reader ?? need to hear more !! ♡₍˘｡> ࿁ <｡ ྀི₎ഒ

Bull!Simon who takes you in as his own. 🐂

He notices how the other bulls pester and harass you, in an attempt to mate with you despite the way you wriggle away and whine out. A cow in their presence is unusual, and they can barely hold themselves together around you. Simon has quickly become possessive over the past few months. He doesn't like the perverse and lustful attention that you receive from the other animals. He wants you all for himself.

You're so ditsy, and that's what Simon adores about you. He loves rubbing his fat, full balls against your soft breasts or your tight, plush rear. He growls out at Price when he attempts to milk you. Who's to say that he's entitled to your precious, special milk? Only Simon has permission to get close to you, to touch you in a plethora of different ways.

Simon adores mating with you. He'll slide his fat, bulbous, and meaty cock into your tight slit, ramming into your glistening folds while you grasp at his horns in an attempt to stabilise yourself as you're fucked relentlessly. Your nipples become perky and stiff around Simon, especially when he's bucking and jerking his sturdy, broad hips into your body, forcing his creamy tip against your cervix. He adores the loud noises you let out, how well you take him. Simon fantasises about impregnating you more often than he'd like to admit – the thought of your stomach swollen drives him fucking crazy.

“That’s right, keep gripping’ these horns, darlin’...”

LAMB READER X KONIG??? IS IT MY BIRTHDAY😍😍😍

I'm happy to hear that you guys are interested in hearing more. (⁠^⁠^⁠)

Farmer!König x Lamb!Reader 🐑👨🏼‍🌾

CW: HYBRID, DUB-CON. MDNI 18+

König adores the sight of you in those tiny, pale blue bows that rest on your ears, how you're only wearing a thin pair of cotton, white panties that don't do a great job at covering up your tight rear and delectable heat.

It's not unusual for you to get yourself stuck inside of a fence. To say that you're a ditsy, clumsy mess isn't an exaggeration. König loves taking advantage of you while you're trapped, wearing barely anything, and letting out the sweetest whimpers he's ever heard.

“What’s wrong, my little lamb? Do you want my help?” König mocks teasingly. He can see the desperation in your eyes, the way they glisten and shine up at him. He throws his cigarette to the ground, stomping onto it before placing himself behind you. You can hear the sound of König unfastening his belt, and the wetness of his creamy, sticky tip prodding against your sensitive cunt. You let out a soft ‘baa’ and suck in a deep breath at the sensation between your supple, bare thighs. König pushes into your warm slit and grips the small, fuzzy tail on your behind, earning himself a pained mewl as he sinks further into your soft, velvety walls.

He needs compensation, you know? What's he getting in return for helping you? It's about time you learn your lesson, Kleines Lamm... König will pound into your aroused, tight hole until he's had his fill, while degrading and taunting you for being so foolish. He's been waiting for this moment for ages. He's tired of watching you from afar, bent over in the grass, fast asleep in such little clothing. You seem to be enjoying yourself as you moan out in sync with each hard, deep thrust into your wet cunt.

Perhaps, you'll be more careful next time, Ja?

ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ STREETS !

summary :: over 20 years of kenji’s life has been spent preserving the surviving scraps of innocence from his childhood. since then, he has been desperately searching for anything to fill the rotten void in his chest. when a news reporter gives him everything he could ever ask for by merely existing, kenji fears the man he may become without them near.

word count :: 8.3k

content warnings :: mdni! yandere!kenji, obsessive!kenji, g/n reader, blood/violence, alcohol, stalking, drugging, kidnapping, nausea/sickness, mentions of sex, use of ‘daddy’ honorific (but nothing sexually explicit occurs).

kenji sato's yandere traits are . . .

nurturing, heroic, & smothering

──── Over the course of his childhood, Kenji possessed the same desires every child had. The same wishes he’d whisper to planes he mistook for shooting stars.

He remembers climbing the blunt limbs of the oak tree in his backyard, pretending to be a hawk and searching the grass for any delicious rodents to sink his claws into. He can still feel the dirt under his fingernails when he’d get lost in the woods, pretending to be a tiger and barring his teeth to any predators after his kin. His only worries would consist of his next meal and where he'll settle in for the night, instead of the loneliness that resided back home.

However, as all stories go, Kenji grew up. As the years passed, though, the more constricting his grip became on this childhood dream. For every candle Kenji blew out, he only wished to be one with the great outdoors and rid himself of the expectations shoved upon him. As any child innocently wanted.

Now in adulthood, every candlelight snuffed out was a silent plea for peace. And so desperately, he is trying to protect the bird nest he intricately crafted. Woven with strands of his young, raven-black hair, chunks of sidewalk chalk, tufts of fur of his favorite stuffed animals — every forgotten, sacred piece of his childhood that still remains unscathed.

Year after year, the relentless abuse of the world and his responsibilities reign down on him, prying their violent, eager fingers into his beloved bird nest. Today, Kenji holds whatever scraps still remain close to his chest, nestling them beneath a canopy of creativity and everlasting hope. Protecting whatever bits of innocence and childlike luster that survive the weight of the world.

When he pictured his father’s role of Ultraman as a child, he imagined perseverance and bravery. Now with that title bequeathed to him, Kenji is anything but. He is clumsy, reckless, and negligent. The very last thing he wishes to do now is follow his father’s footsteps, but alas, he has been given no choice.

The Neronga waltzes through the city streets, exuding chaos with every step it strides. Tossing around chunks of buildings and fistfuls of debris. And begrudgingly, Kenji trails after it like a parent trying to tame their exuberant child. 

A booming roar echoes from the beast's throat, angry bolts of electricity sparking from its horn. One swift punch to its jaw and the creature is out cold, leaving miles of destruction and disorder in its demise. With the threat neutralized, now comes the clean-up. He plucks citizens like they are tiny dolls and drops them to safety, who all thank him profusely for his aid. All except one.

Several bystanders crowd over a pile of rubble, waving their hands in an attempt at garnering the attention of Ultraman. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming, I’m coming…” Kenji mutters, stepping over passing cars as though they’re scatterings of colorful legos. 

Piece by piece, he brushes past the lumps of bricks and metal. Disinterred from beneath the rubble is you. Hauntingly beautiful in your unconscious state. 

“Oh…” He exhales breathlessly, chest rising and falling with rapid pants. 

And there it is. 

That canopy of creativity enveloping him; that bird nest suddenly overflowing with rebirth and life. Everything bursts in colors so prismatic, Kenji finds himself at an impossible balance between feeling weakly heavy and ecstatically light. Never has his soul been so completely satiated before, even in the brightest days of his childhood.

Love, that’s what this must be! Love, warmth, happiness — every inkling of light this world has to offer! How could he ever feel dejected again with this angel now in his-? 

“Your heart rate is spiking.” That familiar, robotic voice interrupts. “You know what happens when Ultraman gets stressed.” 

Like clockwork, his color timer blares in distressful hues of light blue and sharp red. Though, how could Kenji possibly pay attention to such trivial matters when he’s holding you in his hands? How could he pay attention to anything else? 

Unfortunately for his sake, reality tears him away from his entranced state by brute forcd. A blinding flash of white permeates the street and in a blink, Kenji has returned to his normal self. He is back to being the notorious baseball player, worldwide heartthrob, and, most notably, smaller than his heroic alter ego.

When he shifts his gaze up, he finds you descending from the grasp he once held you in. Just like the fearless prince in every child's imagination, he scurries to catch you before you meet the unforgiving ground.

When his bare hands meet your skin, a gasp is yanked from his chest. His heart lurches, obtaining speeds he did not deem possible. Even sprinting from base to base did not garner this physical reaction out of him. You just feel so good against him, so perfect. Like the missing puzzle piece he’s been tearing apart the house looking for, now within its respected place. Bound to be cemented there forever – that sounds good to Kenji. 

“Ken, they can see you!” Mina’s frantic voice interrupts once again. 

When he pulls his vision from you, he finds a collage of people begin to surround the adjacent area. Their mere gaze threatens to jeopardize his identity once and forevermore.

“I’m sorry, ‘m so sorry, baby.” Kenji whispers into your ear.

Pressing a hard kiss to your cheekbone and relishing at the sensation of your skin beneath his lips, he reluctantly guides your limp body atop of the rubble. A few final caresses to your warm flesh and he is scurrying off into the night, completely inconsolable with these brand new emotions. New emotions he fears terribly, but has now clasped all coherent function in his body.

A single week had passed since the city's last Kaiju attack. These several days have proven to be nothing short of torturous for Kenji.

He has been rendered miserable after latching onto the light he’s been chasing for years, only to have it torn from his hands like candy from a baby. All because he’s been forced into a gig he never signed up for. Kenji has lost the love of his life and nothing can reprimand the grief it has left behind. 

Through extensive, but fruitless effort, he has assigned Mina the task of dissecting all of Japan in search of you. With only a description of your face, coated with dirt and blood, there is very little the efficient robot can do. And once again, his desires are left to collect dust in the hollow corners of his soul.

Kenji now resides in his ‘man-cave’, as he so confidently calls it. “Healthy body, healthy mind.” Mina teases, displaying the assortment of coconut water stacked in the fridge. With a sigh of defeat, he takes a resentful sip and cringes at the horrid taste. His efforts to stuff his face with junk food like some heartbroken blonde in a chick-flick were rejected by Mina, as she is always pushing him to pursue greater health. Waving his white flag, he asks for Mina to just turn the TV on, searching for anything to mend the pain poisoning his heart.

“Ken. I wonder if you might consider taking a break.” Mina confesses. 

He stares at the robot, searching her metal face for reasoning.

“From TV?” 

“From finding that citizen.”

His face scrunches in disdain. 

Quit you? Is she serious? How could he ever do that? Could he even survive such a predicament? 

“Give up the one thing that puts a smile on my face?” Kenji questions. “Sorry. No. TV, please.”

Some sincere praise from saved citizens will surely fill the hole in his chest, he assumes. Help him in his efforts to protect that bird nest he cradles close. 

The TV flickers to life and presents Channel 7 News, the place in which Kenji is featured most on. Seeing his most recent work with a bold “WOUNDED NERONGA AFTER ULTRAMAN EXIT” beneath the scene granted no surprise to him. 

What does stun him into a defying silence is when the screen shifts and your face fills up the expanse. Bandage on your scalp and microphone in your hand, you inform viewers at home of the recent neutralized threat and your new status here on the channel.

“Well, this has been quite the warm welcome! I’ve just arrived here in Japan and I’ve already been greeted by the Neronga, evident in this bandage on my noggin’.” 

The coconut water in his mouth spews out like a sprinkler when Kenji spits out the beverage. He chucks the open can across the room, ignoring the stain it will inevitably leave on his lavish carpets.

“That’s them! That’s them, that’s them, that’s them!” He exclaims to Mina. 

Shuffling off the couch, he crawls over to the television as though his legs had completely given out beneath him. His hand caresses the surface where your cheek is. 

“Sources tell us you were rescued by Ultraman himself!” A news anchor speaks. 

“Yes, that is true. Unfortunately, I was a bit too woozy to thank him properly, but he did save my life. It is heroic acts like Ultraman that help keep this city alive.” 

Unbeknownst to you, your words made a certain baseball player melt into putty. Hearing your praises, even when it is probably written on a script behind the camera, is nothing short of heavenly. 

The anchors, third-wheeling between two soulmates, continue to blabber about other fresh events taking place in Japan. Pressing languid kisses to the fuzzy static, all Kenji can listen to, all he can focus on, is you. Every twitch of your brow, every curve of your skin, every stretch in your smile — it all has him mesmerized. Like a siren lulling a fisher into the sea, where he would dive straight into oblivion had it been you in the deep waves.

“This was Y/N L/N with Channel 7 News.” 

Your name sits like honey on his tongue. Sickeningly sweet and absorbing of every word. 

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” He repeats your name like a magic spell, almost as if you’d manifest into existence had he whispered it enough.

“Signing off.” 

The screen cuts and you vanish from the screen, overtaken by irritating advertisements. As though you were physically there with him, Kenji reaches for you. Desperate to bring you, his Y/N, back into his unwavering embrace.

Now, if there is anything renowned about Ken Sato, it is his charm, which also serves as his most powerful superpower. So, with enough flexes in the mirror to give himself a good ego boost, his “put a ring on Y/N’s finger” plan has now ensued in full effect. 

The foundation of this plan resides in who you are, what intricacies and threadings course through such a marvelous creature. He demands Mina, stronger than he ever has before, to learn every little detail there is to know about you. There cannot be a stone left unturned. Kenji needs to know everything. 

And every fragment of information she delivers to him binds his presumption furthermore: you two were made for each other. You’re like a page torn straight from an ancient fairytale. Crafted by God himself to hold his hand. He’s sunk his fingers into your background, your dreams, your hobbies, and he has nestled them all into his bird nest, entwined with the elements of himself. Bound to remain at one another’s side for eternity.

To enlighten you on these matters, however, Kenji has to find clarity through the whirlwind of emotions overpowering his senses. Then, he is positive he’ll be granted the ability to finally speak to you. However, the thought alone is enough to send a sun-hot shiver down his spine. He’ll need some thorough caresses to his ego before he can garner the confidence to merely stand in the same room as you.

It certainly does not help when everyday is spent battling the intense waves of euphoria, obsession, and of course, the suffocating guilt.

He left you behind. He abandoned the one thing that matters most to him and nothing can atone for this mistake. All because of Ultraman being most imperative, which Kenji had been force-fed to believe. Never again will he choose his occupation over you. Or anything, for that matter. You outweigh everything in terms of vital importance. 

He begins these efforts with baby-steps. To start, he assigns Mina to leave expensive gifts upon your bed. Bouquets of flowers, lush clothing, rich chocolates, luxurious jewelry, action figures and plushies galore! All you have to do is look at something in the store for more than a picosecond and it’s wrapped in a bow for you the following day. You also cannot forget the amount of times you’ve arrived home to find your favorite meals freshly made on the kitchen table.

In your overworked, lethargic brain, you assume everything is left by your sweet, elderly landlord who misses her grandkids and needs a fresh face to spoil rotten. You just choose to ignore how the gifts are impossibly far out of her budget.

Miles away from you, Kenji is tearing himself apart as he assumes your lack of recognition to be rejection. He knew he should’ve purchased those shoes in a different color! What was he thinking buying you roses instead of carnations, God, how cliché can he be!? 

He should’ve known you wouldn’t lend him your heart in return for his riches. You are not that foolish or shallow; you’re far more meticulous than the greedy pigs he’s so accustomed to feeding. 

Kenji will not claim defeat yet, though. He is never one to waver so easily, especially when it is you that is the golden prize. If he cannot flaunt his riches, why not himself? The richest item of all? And if his money cannot slither himself into your heart, he is positive it can push him in the intended direction. 

He’ll leave lumps of cash in the hands of massive corporations, all to cast his face wherever it can reach. On billboards, on buildings, on blimps — whatever place you may possibly be. Inevitably, you will have no choice but to see his gorgeous face and fall head over heels with him. The same way you so easily made him fall for you. 

Unfortunately, though, there are not enough cans of coconut water or buckets of chicken drumsticks in the world to bring you to his doorstep, there to fall into his arms and promise forever at his side. Kenji has failed in claiming your heart as his, once again, but another failure is not nearly enough to get him to welcome defeat. Not when it is you he is promised, never when it is you.

From here, he’ll pursue grander efforts. You’ll be occupied in the studio, skimming through your lines while makeup artists poke and prod at you. A squeal of excitement will permeate through the expanse, shouting out for a man by the name of Ken Sato.

Loud rumbles echo through the city streets as Kenji revs the engine to his motorcycle, complemented by his famous hair-flip and heart-throbbing wink. And feverishly, he scrutinizes every face behind the window, desperate to see those gorgeous features smile and melt at the sight of him. Then, he can spring straight into your studio, gather you in his arms, and race off into the sunset with you. Just like the fairytale dream you deserve. 

But alas, the universe refuses to give him such a privilege. You’re too engrossed with the tasks at hand, not some money-obsessed athlete who adorns the walls of teenage girls across Japan. 

If he could hear your assumptions, he’d assure you are sorely mistaken. Kenji doesn’t want the accolades, the riches, the fame. He just wants you. The one who showed him what it truly meant to be wild; the one who showed him what it truly meant to be free. So desperately, he wants you to know this, as well. To feel it with every beat your heart passes, to feel it imprinted in your skin with every kiss and caress he leaves. He could lose everything, just not you. God, not you. 

The man is speeding off with the pieces of his shattered heart before you can even process what had even occurred.

Kenji, once again, is met with another revelation. If it is not his name that can bring you into his embrace, then maybe it is his second self, the one you so wholeheartedly praise for his heroic acts.

Dressed in these ridiculous garbs, Ultraman leads danger towards your direction to “save” your life, all other innocent bystanders be damned. These efforts do not ever bridge on being dangerous. Merely a quick scare or two. And it definitely pays off, oh, does it pay off. Watching the fear in your eyes ease into relief at the sight of him never fails to get him numb with rapture.

“Fear not, citizen! Kenj- I mean, Ultraman will save you!” 

The last occasion he ever abused his role consisted of an orchestrated car accident. Nearly caught in the crossfire, you ever-so-gracefully dove away from the scene and skidded your knee in the process. A thundering “NO! BABY!” rings through the air. So absorbed in adrenaline, you do not even process the volume of the sound. 

What does grasp your attention is Ultraman taking you into his hand and lifting you far, far away from the ground. You ensnare yourself around his finger in response, clinging to him like a lifeline. Kenji melts from the action, as well as the underlying implications. You, relying on him, your silver-armored prince, for protection — that is everything he could ever wish for sat right in the palm of his hands. 

“Shh… It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay… Daddy’s here…” 

The words, shaky as they are, fall from his mouth like water through a cracked dam. It’s all just so easy, assuring you of his protection and comfort. The only way of preventing him from caring for you is to end his life. And Kenji has a lot of fight in him before he’ll allow himself to be separated from you.

You remain in his hands until an ambulance arrives. For the umpteenth time, he is forced to let go of you again. He cannot hide the perceptible agony it brings him to watch you rely on somebody else for aid. 

One day, it will be him, he assures himself. One day.

In the meantime, your rejection continues to take a heavy toll on him. Kenji is now famished without you, emaciated and starved to the bone. In some feeble attempt at satiating this hunger, he’ll try to find these fragments of you in others. He will drink himself ill then bring a blurry face to bed, all to shake the memory of you out of his head. These efforts, once more, only result in failure.

This time around, a harrowing guilt rots in his chest. There is no one else like you, he should’ve seen it clear as day. Kenji was a fool to ever think there could be. Now, he has cheated on the one who matters most to him. And there is nothing to placate the anguish he’s tormented by.

This perceptible ruination does not go unnoticed by journalists, either, who do not waste the opportunity of an eye-grabbing headline. Articles about him flood the web, detailing his miserable failures out on the field. Crawling to base seconds too late, sprinting directly into walls, and receiving more strikes than anyone can count — Kenji and the famous Sato name are falling apart by the seams.

He examines the glistening trophies and signed baseball cards in another attempt at protecting his ego and its butchered remains. None of it is enough, though. None of this success is notable without you at his side.

In a fit of rage, he throws his Giants helmet against the basement floors, landing with a harsh thud.

“They reject me? Ken Sato!? Best baseball player of all time!? The one and only Ultraman!?” 

His poor helmet is victim to his abuse, once more, as he leans all his might into a forceful kick. 

“Nobody can resist Ken Sato!” 

Another attempt at thrashing around in anger results in his knees buckling beneath him, sending his body to the cold ground. That was the final failure Kenji needed to break down into a sobbing fit. Head buried in his palms, he begs, pleads, for mercy. 

“I… I’m doing my best, okay? God!”

His body curls into itself, like pathetic prey trying to protect itself.

“I buy you everything you want, I save your life again and again, I-” 

Kenji cuts his tangent short by choking on a gagged cry. His fist clenches over his heart, overwhelmed from the sheer pain the organ is enduring. His chest stutters and twitches from the force of his blubbering. Globs of snot and spit gush across down his face, some clumps managing to pervade across his tongue.

“Ken? Are you crying?” A monotone voice speaks. 

“No! I’m… Not crying!” 

His coughing whimpers and wet face reveal the truth. Weakness is something he was taught to be ashamed of, after all. What kind of man would he be if he let himself crumble over such petty matters? Would you ever fall for him after witnessing such a dramatic sight?

“Want me to load up Y/N? That might make you feel better.” 

A few snivels through the silence and Kenji answers her. “Yeah… Yeah, I-I’d really like that…”

Maybe this is what he needs, just a few hits of his favorite drug to keep him in stable condition. Then, he’ll utilize the newfound strength to revive his honor, finally earning your affection in the end.

Pixels unfold in varying colors across the ground, spreading across the walls and ceiling like a reaching wave. The scene overtaking the basement now displays a romantic scene. Cherry blossom trees dance with the warm wind, petals drifting through the Spring air. A grand waterfall descends from a moss-covered mountain and leads to a river, where fish swim along with the stream. As he stands to his feet, Kenji finds himself at an arched bridge stretching over the river as the gentle melodies of nature sing around him.

When his gaze drifts around, he feels his heart practically plummet into the pit of his stomach when he sees you. Leaning over the wicker barrier and tossing out handfuls of kibble for the hungry fish.

Turning over your shoulder, you look up at Kenji with those glittering eyes, causing his breath to get caught in his throat. To make matters even worse for Kenji’s weak self, your face then breaks out into a candy-sweet smile. You are so innocently oblivious to how you’ve reduced his heart rate to an old engine, stuttering miserably. That smile could make even the devil repent, he’s sure of it. With luminosity like that, the greatest evils would have no choice but to succumb to their contrition.

Dusting your hands off, you frolic over to where Kenji stands. A lighthearted giggle escapes past your lips in the process, nearly bringing him to tears from how precious the sight is. Your hand slips into his and he might as well have crossed the pearly gates of heaven. Fuck, why hasn’t he made Mina do this before?

“Come on! Come feed the fishies with me!” You cheer in that captivating tone. That adoring voice could ask so sweetly for death and he’d deliver you buckets of blood. Just keep talking to him like that.

The impact you have on him is so immense, in fact, Kenji falls to his knees. The throbbing ache that his fall courses through his body might as well have been background noise, not when his senses are overwhelmed with how blissful your presence is.

His arms enclose around your legs, burying his face into your fuzzy sweater. With an amused hum, you sink your hands into his dark locks. The gesture makes him dizzy with elation. Spinning around the merry-go-round of devastating jubilation.

“Tell me you love me.” Kenji whines, his sensitive voice muffled against your stomach. 

With another giggle that squishes his gooey heart, you respond.

“I love you, Ken.” 

… Ken? 

No! No, you wouldn’t call him that! 

You’d call him Kenji, or better yet, you’d conjure up some adorable nickname in that witty head of yours. Anything but Ken; anything but what everyone else sees him as. 

And just like that, the fantastical facade shatters and reveals what really lies beneath. None of this is real. As much as he wishes it would be, as much as he’d throw away everything for you to be beside him in this moment, all of this is merely a figment of his imagination.

“No! You’re not real! Y/N- They would never-!”

The tears return and leave his body through broken wails. Once again, he has been forged into a mess of cracked hiccups and ground-shattering sobs.

His clenched fist meets the solid ground, piercing pain invading his entire arm from the impact. The punch was thrown far from where you stand. Even as a hologram, Kenji cannot bear to hurt you. He couldn’t wish violence upon you even if he wanted to. 

The dreamscape stood before him crumbles as quickly as it was formed. Darkness spreads once again and the romantic scene of cherry blossoms and fish kibble fades away. A physical manifestation of what he has become without you present.

Chasing after a sliver of your attention has now thrust Kenji into a staggering state of despair. His sob playlist shakes his house with its ear-splitting volumes, pushing more tears down his face while he stuffs his mouth with donuts. 

The weight of the pain pushes him toward drastic measures, as he is now a hollow shell of who he used to be. Measures he assured himself he would never come to, but has inevitably crashed landed in.

If you do not fall for his riches, his charm, his fame, then Kenji will just have to… “persuade” you towards that goal.

Cameras flash and flicker in his face as he charms his way through another press conference of millions. Only this time, he has ground-breaking news to share. 

“Fans have seen you blow supposed kisses to someone outside the venue. Is there a special someone in your life?” 

Directly across the field is your studio, but he will not tell others this fact. It is his duty to protect you, after all. But, scattering a few breadcrumbs won’t hurt anyone.

“Yes. Yes there is.”

The room erupts in hushed gasps and the rushed scribbling of pens. Another wave of questions tumbles toward Kenji’s way.

“They mean everything to me. I owe all my success to Y/- I mean, my baby.” 

A knowing smirk grows on his face. The Sherlock’s of the internet will surely connect the dots. Netizens will also fawn over how misty-eyed he became speaking of you, while others will rage in jealousy over their dream man falling for someone else. No matter what occurs, he will protect you during your sudden shift to fame. You have his word on that.

Days later, Kenji receives an email. And he almost considers admitting himself into a hospital for the near heart attack he receives upon reading it. 

Signed by none other than Y/N L/N, you ask him to meet with you in order to “clear the air” and “sort out this drama”. 

Several times, he scans the username to find some sort of fault, something that shows him it is just the works of an envious hater. However, his suspicions are never confirmed. The message is purely and undoubtedly you, no online troll or basement hologram in sight!

Without another second to waste, he responds to your email with a place and time, that being two hours from now. Kenji intends on fulfilling his role of the dashing boyfriend and to drive you there himself, flaunting his sumptuous motorcycle in the process. Mina, however, has since been programmed to detect every potential danger in your path, even something as minor as a crack in the pavement. When she displayed the graphic results of recent biking accidents, his heart lurched in his chest.

For now, he will simply have to meet you at the luxuriant restaurant he booked the best table for. In the future, he will convert to safer forms of transportation and your foot will never touch a pedal again. Not with your prince charming around.

Arriving an hour early, Kenji bursts through the bathroom doors and wipes the beads of sweat seeping down his face. All the makeup and detail he put into his appearance, all melted to a mess because of the anxiety you pump through his body. 

It is almost comical. He, Ken Sato, is nervous? He’s done the classic dinner-date over a zillion times, delivering his suggestive pick-up lines and swift winks. Staring at his exasperated face in the mirror, he is at a loss of where to go from here. What will he even say? What famous lines can he use? How can he give you his black card and a copy of his house key without you running away? 

Kenji finally sits down at the reserved table, located on a far balcony and looking over the grand city. His wristwatch blares red and presents the stack of missed calls from his dad, of which he willfully ignores. He went twenty years without his father and survived. Meanwhile, he went one week without you and thought he was on the cusp of death. He cannot bring himself to care about anything else. Not when he’s finally got a hook on you.

A waiter then asks him if he was feeling alright, concerned over the sight of his pale skin, shivering body, and twiddling thumbs. Kenji assures the man he is alright as he restlessly taps his foot, stalking the door ahead for the face he loves most to saunter through. The building could just about crumble to ash and he’d still sit here, waiting for your arrival.

And just like a movie, you pass the threshold and rob all the air from his lungs. 

You merely walk his way, but to him, you resembled a fawn frolicking through a green meadow, an angel wandering across roads of fluffy clouds. Those sporadic nerves die at the sight of you, rendering him to a melted pile of twitterpated nonsense. You tread closer and closer and closer and Kenji does not know how much more his body can handle before you completely dissolve him into a puddle.

“You have five minutes.” 

Your voice perfuses into his ears like birdsong, real and raw this time. That noise greeting him every morning is the only wish he’d ask from a magic genie. 

“Wh-Wh-?” He stutters like a lovesick loser, mentally slapping himself across the head for such a pathetic introduction.

“I said you have five minutes to explain yourself. Then, I will le-” 

“I love you.”

Surprise eases out your scrunched expression. You’ve never met this man before. Yet here he is, spewing out this gibberish. All of this has to be some form of joke, you assume. Where those irritating Youtube pranksters will sprint out from their hiding spots and shove their cameras in your face, cackling like hysterical hyenas.

“I am in love with you.” 

Maybe this is just his way of leading partners into bed with him. A powerful effort to add another name to his lengthy body count. And for whatever reason, he plans to jot down your name on that list.

“And you are worth more to me than anything.” 

You scrutinize his face for some inkling of rationality, something to explain what the fuck he means by that. Your efforts prove to be futile, as those teary, doe-eyes peer into your soul with nothing but sheer, unadulterated devotion. As though you were both fresh newlyweds enjoying the luxury of your honeymoon, complemented by the glimmer of your new wedding rings.

“Okay.” You swallow dryly, unease bleeding through your body. “You get another five minutes to explain yourself. On one condition.”

Kenji perks up at your proposition as though you had offered your hand in marriage. 

“Yes! Yes, whatever you want!” 

The man in question ponders over what riches you could ask him for and how elated he’d be to give you them. Taking you on shopping sprees and serving as your adoring husband, paying every penny and carrying your bags for you while you peruse to your liking. Just say the word, maybe flutter those pretty lashes, and he’ll personally deliver the very planet into your hands.

“I want you to leave me be.” 

If it weren’t for the fact this man was a complete stranger, you’d feel a sting of guilt over the perceptible emotion that washes over his face. Kenji anticipated the demand of clothes, foods, travel tickets, of which he would gleefully fulfill. Not this. Anything but this. 

“Alright, f-for how long? 10 minutes? 20?” 

“Forever.” 

You might as well have surged your fist into his chest cavity and torn his heart out, stomping out the ba-bump beneath the force of your boots. You might as well have climbed the tree behind his childhood home and ambushed his bird nest, tearing apart the array of twigs and squishing the healthy eggs. You might as well have just killed him right then and there, as nothing could pain him more than such a fate. Forever without the one he loves most is a life you couldn’t pay him to suffer through.

His bottom lip begins to tremble, stomach gurgling with nauseated shock. A few gags masked by coughs go unnoticed by you, as you could’ve sworn you saw a bright flash of white in the distance. Did someone… Take a picture? 

“... What’s wrong, baby? What are you looking at, huh?” 

Shifting your gaze back to Kenji, you find his features sheen with sweat and sickly-green from the queasiness you’ve forced upon him. What you especially notice is the accent of smugness beneath it all, etched into the smirk stretched across his lips.

Hushed whispers in the distance accelerate in volume, until the entire restaurant erupts in flashing lights.

Paparazzi!? What the fuck are they doing here!? 

Kenji leans back into the chair and slings an arm around the back post, seemingly posing for the photographers invading your conversation.

“Oh, no! We’ve been caught! The horror! Whatever will we do now that our secret is out…?”

If it weren’t for the sake of your career, you would’ve socked that smile clean off his face. Maybe even knock out a few teeth while you’re at it.

Critics have now officially cleared the name of Ken Sato due to his recent spike in excellent performance. Sports commentators even toss around jokes of how Sato’s new partner has knocked some sense into him.

Another game of hundreds and the cologne of arrogance around Kenji could suffocate the entire arena. A recent report detailed by you is casted on the billboard outside your studio. He blows yet another kiss your way as he jogs onto the field, ignoring the shouting fans who seethe with envy. He has made it official across the nation that his heart is sewn into your hands. And not even God could level the happiness coursing through his body. 

That is, until an uninvited visitor opens his mouth. The Swallows catcher begins to taunt him about his lover on the big screen, unaware of the lethal consequences it would harbor.

“You let the team hit, Sato? Shit, I might talk to coach about a transfer so I can get a piece of th-” 

The baseball bat in Kenji’s hands collides with his jaw before he can finish his sentence. 

Several more plunges into his skull and a swarm of teammates swarm around to break apart the scene. The crowd is alive with excited hollering, drowning out the noise of the blood-stained threats Kenji barks his way, strings of saliva spurting from his mouth like some feral mutt. 

The onslaught of players quickly, albeit with struggle, overpower him, successfully retrieving the weapon from his grasp. The edges of his manicured nails dig into the meat of his palms, forming maroon crescents in his flesh. Blind with rage, more threats that will surely put him behind bars are screeched into the air.

A few harsh yanks from the group of men and Kenji is finally pried from the catcher. He is dragged off the field past the rushing paramedics before he can fulfill his promises.

“And now it looks like there are words being exchanged between Sato and the Swallows catcher... Oh! Oh, no. We haven’t seen a brawl like this in a long time! Both benches have cleared. They’re throwing punches…” 

Soothing his sore muscles in an ice bath, Kenji watches the recording of his public meltdown with trepidation. Your eyes are not far and surely, you will bear witness to the violence his hands are capable of. He fears you daring to think he will treat you as such and his chest aches from the thought alone.

All he wants at this moment is to tear down the door to your apartment, take your precious face into his hands, and speak the utter truth as he assures you he will never bring harm to you. He’ll inform you of the context of the fight and what sparked such a reaction out of him. Then, you’ll thank him profusely for his heroic defense and drown him in your sugar-sweet kisses. Just like he has dreamt of every night, often waking up in the morning with his puckered lips against his knuckles.

Now, however, Kenji has surely destroyed any chances of gluing you to his side forever. You resent him for that stunt he pulled at dinner, and now, you are afraid of what he and his baseball bat may do. The ongoing success of Ken Sato has crashed and burned, resulting in the loss of what he cared for most.

“Ken!” Mina calls out to him. “I have something to show you!” 

Assuming it is another plan of millions to stamp the title of ‘lover’ all over you, he rushes out of the bath and throws his clothes on. Venturing into the basement, he is met with the very last thing he expected.

The containment unit has been raised. Inside is you, fast asleep with a bow on your head. Wearing just his jersey and holding onto a plushie designed after himself. 

“Surprise!”

Mina’s robotic arms stretch out, presenting the gift she captured retrieved for Kenji.

In addition to your permanent presence, the containment unit has been extensively decorated. The adornments are all pink and fluffy, like a cloud draped over a sunset. A circle-shaped bed is strung above the ground, supporting the weight of you and the mess of plushy comforters. It rocks you from side-to-side like a fussy baby who skipped out on naptime.

The scent of lavender pervading the air eases you into a deeper slumber. Tranquil white noise hums from the surrounding speakers, suffusing with the sounds of a light rainstorm. There are even holograms of shimmering stars and a full moon hovering over you, like some colossal mobile strung above a crib. Among the stars is a constellation, of some sort, that reads “Y/N SATO” in glittering letters.

And poor Kenji doesn’t know if he wants to beat Mina into shambles of wires or give her as many HTTP cookies her synthetic heart could ask for. For now, he is too woozy to make a coherent decision regarding her well-being. As he stated before, you always remain of utmost importance.

“My God…” He gasps out through stuttering breaths. 

His heart pounds so violently, he can barely hear the sound of his own voice over the persistent thumping. Kenji wobbles over to you as though he had just stood on his two legs for the very first time. He is almost positive there is a certain air suffusing from your body, entering his bloodstream and choking him with fervent stress. Every step forward renders his body weaker and weaker.

Images then begin to haunt his mind, preceding what may happen in minutes time. Kenji sees your weeping face, crying to release you from this bird cage. He can hear the thundering volume of your voice declaring you will never fall in love with him, how you’ll soon vanish and leave him to forever rot in solitude.

The emotions these thoughts garner stir in his gut like a meal that doesn’t agree with him. Gags poke and prod at his throat, threatening to release the butterflies fluttering around his stomach. A glob of bile then spurts from his mouth and splats against the floor. Kenji, horrified and sick with worry, races away from the scene before he spills his guts in front of you and humiliates himself even further.

What on Earth is he meant to do now?

When you finally awaken, you’re convinced you’ve been melted into jelly. Maybe even restrained in a tank of thick oil. Limbs weak at wet spaghetti, you cling to any fragments of energy in your system as you try and discern your environment. 

“Well, look who woke up!” A female voice greets you. “Do you want to see daddy?” 

Something globe-shaped hovers around the barrier you’ve been ensnared in. If it weren’t for your groggy state, you’d verify it to be a robot and not a talking basketball. 

“’Daddy’? What the hell are you talking about?” Your confused voice protrudes broken and sluggish, still stained with the sleep you’ve just woken from. 

A screen forms above you and before your distorted vision, you find the very last sight you wished to see. Ken Sato, your own personal parasite, sits stiff in the living room just upstairs. Bouncing his leg in an anxious rhythm, he seems to be engrossed by a video on his laptop. As you listen further, the contents become more distinguishable.

“When the moment is right, lean into your partner slowly and tilt your head to avoid bumping noses.” 

The robot clears her throat in an attempt at grasping his attention, but fails to do so.

“Close your eyes and let your lips connect naturally. Match the pattern of your partner to-” 

Another noise of acknowledgment from the robot and Kenji’s attention is finally held. Barely, that is.

“What, Mina?” He answers curtly, eyes refusing to part from the information he is currently absorbing.

“Someone is waiting for you down here.”

In all the years you’ve lived on this planet, you don’t think you’ve ever seen someone move so fast before. Not only did Mina’s words arouse a visceral reaction out of Kenji, but they practically shoved him off the couch from the sheer force of her insinuations. His foot even gets caught behind a chair leg and causes him to land splat on his face, but this is not nearly enough to deter his acceleration. 

The screen you were studying then folds into itself as an elevator descends from above. Through the cyan, blurred exterior, you see the frame of no other than Ken Sato. The doors open a mere inch before the man in question is squishing himself through the tight space. Always the acrobat he is, he gracefully trips onto his face, once again, before clumsily scrambling to his feet.

Now, you’re given the ability to absorb his appearance. Messy locks of black hair lack their normal gelled accentuation. Dark eyes are blown wide as though he were some feral animal. Tan arms are covered in red scratches from the relentless, anxious scratching he abused his flesh with.

The bold ‘ICON’ on his shirt mocks you. Is that what he is? Is that what he expects you to perceive him as? Would an ‘icon’ do such a thing like this?

You ponder over how much time has passed since you’ve been brought into this horrid basement, how much time has passed before friends and family have deemed you missing.

Kenji knows the answer to your questions. It had only been a day; twenty-four full hours of crazed, restless worry. He even skipped out on the championship for this moment, just to ensure you remained safe in the basement. He trusts Mina, of course, but he cannot rely on her to restrain you. The grasp he has on you is dangling by a thread, worn thin by his own stupid antics from before. 

He knows now that if you were to take one step out the door, you’ll be gone forever. And Kenji will die before he allows that to happen. 

Meanwhile, you’re still trying to garner pieces of your memory together. After returning to your apartment from a hectic day at the studio, you allowed yourself to indulge in the hot meals always waiting for you at your kitchen table. Normally, you’d chuck them in the garbage out of distrust. Tonight, however, you were so overwhelmed with lethargy, you couldn’t conjure enough energy to cook yourself a meal. So, the magic dinner-fairy would receive your blessing in the meantime.

One bite in and you were out like a light, oblivious to what exactly is waiting for you once you wake.

What was waiting for you now dashes toward the edge of your dog kennel, as you’d describe it. Kenji places a hand to the surface and his forehead lands against the wall with a light thud. His quickened, gasping breaths fog the glass. He does not leave even a centimeter between himself and the barrier separating both of you. The legs that have scored him more wins for the Giants than any other played in history suddenly grow weak, trembling as they try to support his weight. 

Kenji’s half-lidded gaze is devoted to you only. A curl forms between his brows from the fervency of his emotions the longer he stares. His cheeks go red as two ripe cherries while he just stands and watches, all dewy-faced and blushing.

“Lower the containment unit.” He pants breathlessly, the sheer tone of love drooping from every syllable that parts from his mouth. Like pockets of honey seeping from a honeycomb. 

“Ken. That might be a bad idea. We cannot anticipate how they will react.” 

He presses lazy kisses against the glass as her words go through one ear and out the other. Ignoring her warning, he assures her of these concerns.

“I got ‘em, I got ‘em… My baby…”

To your horror, the walls plummet and grant this monster full access to where you lie. Kenji collapses, again, not realizing he had been leaning his full weight against the walls of the containment unit. This sudden intrusion causes you to flinch and you crawl away from him, attempting to shield yourself beneath the thick covers. 

Body shivering with feverish need, his hand grasps onto the corner of the mattress to stabilize himself. Mere inches away from your foot. His chin lifts to look your way, his eyes only needing to bathe in the sight of you forever. Within his irises, you find swirling pools of darkness illuminated by specks of glitter. Sparkling for you and you alone. 

A smile pokes at Kenji’s lips, bright and formidable, before he addresses your sour expression. 

“Aww, why the long-face? Is my baby hungry, maybe?” 

At the foot of the bed, a fraction of the floor folds open and rises a platter. On this platter is an array of all your favorite foods. Snacks, candies, sodas, juices, whatever your heart could possibly desire. Mina has correlated an all-you-can-eat buffet just for you. Similar to the dishes left for you back in your apartment.

As it spins, displaying every inch and corner of its delicious offerings, you curl further into yourself. You do not want nourishment, you want to leave! To part from this maniac and never hear of his name again! 

With your refusal to eat, Kenji determines the reason behind your dismay to be because of him. Or, in his egotistical brain, the lack of him. The works of an absurdly large ego, you’d surmise. 

“Do you… Do you need… Me?” The hope in his voice is akin to a child in disbelief over receiving surprise tickets to Disneyland.

And Kenji just melts from how gut-wrenchingly adorable you are. By simply existing, you’re yanking at his heartstrings like a puppeteer, guiding him further and further towards the edge of sanity. With eyes peering up at him like that, he’ll welcome the predicament warmly.

“Oh… I’m right here, baby. Daddy won’t leave you.” He coos in your ear, the warm cadence practically oozing into your brain. 

Still overwhelmed with exhaustion, you do not have a morsel of strength left in your body to fight off his affections. Despite how desperately you wish to. Instead, you have to remain pliant as Kenji guides you onto your back, soothing and shushing you as you sink further into the plush surface.

Tearing his shirt from his body, the loss of the ‘icon’ status, he crawls beneath the opulent covers with you. His arm snakes around your waist, while the other cradles your cheek. Hands shuddering and heart pattering as he presses himself against your back, he wonders how he had not simply died right in this moment. You’re too perfect. It’s too much for his poor heart to take. Cupid may as well have discarded the pink-hued arrows and plunged a knife straight into his chest.

Kenji leaves an array of kisses on the back of your neck as you drift back into a tranquil slumber. All those wishes he set on shooting stars have finally returned and placed you directly in his beloved bird nest. All to stay at his side forever.

All to never leave.

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

❝ WHY CAN'T I FIND

NO ONE LIKE YOU . . . ? ❞

gif creds .

Way Too In Deep

✮⋆˙ in which exboyfriend!toji fushiguro sees you in a club...

cw ! bathroom sex, semi-public sex, mirror sex, daddy kink, spanking, mild degradation kink(lemme know if I missed any im having a brainfart rn)

a/n : ya'll iv'e been doing everything BUT writting✋😭 like. not my usual content and I lowk hate this an might rewrite but lets get whornee!

fic radio 💿🎧🫧 : Deep by Summer Walker

Strobe lights, smoke machines, shitty DJs, and even shittier guys. That's what clubs were to you. But your friends loved clubs so they put you in a short, tight dress that left nothing to the imagination, and a killer pair of heels. They dragged you to the Fallen Angel. How did your friends get you into a popular luxury club? You had no idea.

You were the designated sober friend who would drive everyone home(if they weren't already going home with their one-night stands). Meaning, you were stuck drinking mocktails and flirting with the bartender for the night. You forgot how much you missed clubbing though. The only true meaning you were so pessimistic, was that you hadn't been out since you broke up with your ex-boyfriend two months ago.

Who conveniently entered your line of sight across the room. You weren't going to sit and look like a loser now that he was here. You ordered a shot of tequila and downed it; enjoying the burning sensation in your throat. Luckily one of your favorite songs was playing, and your friends dressed you up like a hooker.

You needed to find a guy to dance with quick. You needed to prove to Toji that you were doing much better than he was. You only had to look at the poor victim you chose for the night and he was already yours. You let the music ignite you and guide your movements. Your back was flush against his as you ran your hands through your hair grinding against him. "My name's Shiu," the guy you were dancing with whispered in your ear.

"Cool, less talking, more touching," you said, guiding his hands to your hips.

"Yes, ma'am," he smirked as his hands tightened around your hips.

Your eyes were fixed on Toji burning holes into the back of his head. When Toji finally noticed you, you stared straight into his eyes as you mouthed the words to the lyrics and whined your hips against Shoe(whatever his name was). Toji looked irritated but impressed by the nerve you had to try and taunt him like that. Exactly what you wanted.

He took to the dance floor with one of his new girls. He spun her around and danced with her the same way you were dancing with Shiu. You could feel his manhood hardening against your ass. You weren't even dancing anymore, you were practically dry-humping on the dance floor. Miguel's eyes stayed fixed on you. Your body. Those eyes. Your sultry expression. Your mouth. Agape.

That set him off. As soon as you knew it, he was marching towards you with a mean scowl on his face. One blink and Toji's larger rough hand was firmly around your wrist dragging you away from Shiu. "Hey let go," you protested from behind with a satisfied smile on your face. Toji didn't answer. He simply grumbled under his breath, dragging you into the single-stall bathroom locking the door behind him.

"Just who do you think you are?" he asked with his hands on his hips.

"I don't know what you mean," you said feigning innocence.

"Really? 'Cause you were practically fuckin' that guy out there," he scoffed inching closer to you until your back crashed against the wall and faces were centimeters apart.

"No. I wasn't," you whined.

"Oh yeah. Don't lie to me baby you were doing it so I would look. I know it," he scoffed.

"Okay, maybe I was. I mean, even so, you wouldn—" you started before being cut off by his lips on yours. He kissed you like he was on his deathbed and you were the elixir of life. You moaned softly into his kiss.

Toji's hands found themselves wandering all over your body. They caressed your soft breasts. Your waist, and your ass. He gave your ass a squeeze. "Tell me you don't want this," he whispered.

You shook your head softly, draping your arms over the nape of his neck. "Give it to me Toji," you sighed in his ear. He could hear the sinister smile in your voice. With that confirmation, he lifted you your legs wrapping around his waist and placing you on the sink. He immediately kissed your neckline and jaw leaving fresh bruises all over the place.

Your fingers ran through his hair and tightened into fists full of his damp tufts of hair every time he sucked on your neck. "Tell me you don't want this baby and I'll stop," he grunted as he kissed down your cleavage.

"You bluffin' Fushiguro?" you smirked. He simply scoffed and let you hop off the sink. He moved you around by your waist so you could look at him through the mirror. "Look at you. You wanted this didn't you?" he smirked.

You smile at him through the mirror. "Maybe I did," you whispered. His rough hands bunched up the hem of your dress to your waist.

"You're still as slutty as ever," he snickered, as he bent you over the sink. Moving your thong aside, his calloused finger made sudden contact with your glossy slit. You let out a breathy moan at the sudden contact.

"How many guys have been in this pussy since we split, hmm?" he asked as he plunged a finger into your dripping sex.

"Lost count," you lied.

"You don't gotta lie to me ma," he grunted.

You hated how well he knew you. You hated how he knew you grinned when you lied. You hated that he knew you weren't over him and that he still owned you whether you liked it or not.

But he wondered if you knew you had the same effect on him. Wondered if you knew the girls were just a ploy to get you to notice him. Wondered if you knew how you occupied his every thought. How you had him in some sort of trance and he couldn't escape you being in his dreams. He didn't mind it though. He secretly loved how you haunted him whenever you were apart.

"I'm not lyin', I've been a bad girl," you breathed out as he managed to make you drip with just one finger.

"You know, if you want me to spank you, baby, all you gotta do is ask," he cooed as he added a second finger pumping in and out of your eager cunt at an agonizing pace.

"Don't try to taunt me. You'll regret it," he continued as he picked up the pace.

You feel little fireworks ignite in your stomach hearing his words. A feeling you missed dearly that only he could give you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he added a third finger. "Mhmm—Toji, t-too much," you whined.

"You like that?" he cooed as he curled his finger up into your spongy sensitive spot.

"Yeah!" you almost squealed, looking away from yourself in the mirror.

"Yeah?" he teased as he roughly gripped your jaw pointing your face towards it.

"Uh huh," you sighed as you felt the heat rush to your face as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Toji was peering into your soul with a nasty smile plastered on his face, watching your body's reactions to his touch. Your body's reactions to his lips on your neck, his other hand fondling your boob through your dress, and his glistening fingers slipping out of your sopping wet cunt.

You whined at the sudden empty feeling. "You're so needy tonight. You miss me baby?" he teased. You pouted at him through the mirror.

You couldn't help but shamelessly rub your ass against his crotch as he took his pants off. He taunted you rubbing his swollen tip against your wet folds. "Want you inside," you whined.

"Ask nicely baby," he groaned.

"Daddy please, need you inside," you moaned.

"Atta giiirl," he purred as he lazily pushed his fat tip into your cunt.

The stretch was better than anything you could've imagined. Your walls fluttered around his cock as he pushed even further into you bottoming out. It took everything in him to not cum right away. He focused on his breathing tilting his head back trying to keep it all in.

You were growing impatient and brattier by the second. You moved your hips fucking into him eliciting a guttural groan. His hands roughly came to your hips bringing your movements to a full halt. "Behave yourself," he grunted as he bent you further over the sink back arching. He fucking into you slowly and all you could do was squeeze your eyes shut trying not to cum.

"Look at me when I fuck you, baby," he grunted as he picked up the pace.

That sensation of tiny explosions in your stomach came back causing your pussy to flutter around him. You were moaning uncontrollably. It was all too much, the stretch, the sweat, the music blasting, the dirty talking, and the finger he roughly lodged in your mouth to shut you up. "M'close Toji, needa cum, please~" you moaned

"You gonna cream on daddy's cock baby?" he cooed rubbing your puffy clit as his thrusts increased in speed.

"Yes, yes! Just l-like that Toji," you gasped.

It was all perfect: his pace, the hand placement, his finger rapidly rubbing at your aching clit. All of it was enough to make you come undone on his fat throbbing cock.

And that you did. Hard. If your knees weren't already weak, they were now. Your legs rapidly convulsed as you creamed around Toji's cock. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head; all you could see was white. Toji kept pumping in and out of your pussy as you came, fucking you through your high.

You were babbling incoherent praises as you came down from your high. "I'm gonna cum baby where do you want it?" he panted as he pulled out, continuing to pump himself trying to imitate the irreplaceable feeling of her pussy.

"Should I cum on those pretty tits?" he grunted smirking as you whimpered nonsense.

"Or maybe this perfect ass?" he suggested as his hips began to buck into his fist.

"Anywhere, anywhere—please just," you whimpered.

"Please what? Use your words, baby," he groaned.

"My face," you shamefully whispered.

"Huh?" Toji teased as you turned around getting on your knees looking up into his emerald green eyes.

"I want you to cum on my face, daddy," you pouted.

"There you go open up for me baby," he groaned as hips stuttered fucking into his fist. You immediately obeyed his command, opening your mouth for him, sticking out your tongue, and looking up at him the way he liked.

"Atta giiirl," he moaned, throwing his head back.

You tasted his salty cum on your tongue and you were hooked again. You were in deep. Way too in deep.

tw. gore

you never would have guessed that gladiator!toji fushiguro was obsessed with you, until he brandished his blood-covered spear in your direction and dedicated his first-ever victory, not to his emperor, not to your father, but you; the pure and innocent emperor’s daughter.

he has the whole crowd screaming for him, but only you can satisfy his hunger for magnificence. what’s the point if you’re not watching him slaughter pathetic gladiators in the name of your emperor? if you’re not here to witness gladiator!toji rise, drenched in sweat, blood and glory, what is he even fighting for?

gladiator!toji has your name boldly engraved on the handle of his gladius as a reminder. none shall break nor bend the blade that bears your name, but him. he’s not letting any other man carry his sword, nor shall he let any other man live long enough to have a chance. from his cell, he has figured out ways to keep men away and asks his handler for a minute of your time after each victory.

when he wears a helmet, it’s to tease you. he knows you’ll anxiously be watching the scene, searching for him through the messy rumble of muscular and sweaty men tearing each other to shreds. you distinctly recognize gladiator!toji by his physical prowess and herculean body towering over the other combatants. he’s sturdy and magnificently sculpted. the sun reflects on the sweat dripping off his scarred arms while he offers the greatest of performance to the crowd and to you.

gladiator!toji is aware of your mesmerized gaze upon his broad shoulders and back muscles whenever he twirls his sword. his confident and annoying grin follows him everywhere— even more when he has the opportunity to thank you for giving him the strength to fight.

his popularity grows larger with each spectacle as he triumphs over his enemies. men and women are at his feet, but when he exits the arena, it’s your attention gladiator!toji is so desperately searching for which you often grant by visiting him after the fights. he’s still trapped behind bars, but finds ways to stroke your arm with his rough finger or trap you deeper into his enchantment. unfortunately, you had fallen for the criminal as soon as he had opened his prideful mouth to your emperor.

when the public pleads gladiator!toji for mercy, he can only turn to you, awaiting approval with his blade against the poor gladiator’s neck. it’s only when you point your thumb down that he takes the final blow with a nasty and satisfied chuckle.

if only you knew how desperate he was to finally be free and have you all to himself. gladiator!toji wasn’t just a gladiator, he was the emperor’s daughter’s gladiator and he was so dependent on your approval that he would’ve done anything to get you to love him. even defying an emperor.

© shegetsburned 2024 please do not repost/edit/or claim my writing as your own