Summary: In which you, the reader, landed in thirsttok and is discovered by him. He, as in whichever man you are currently simping for.
Author’s Note: idk how I ended up seeing that man grinding the air’s life away. But it made me want to apologize to all my ancestors for being the current manifestation of the bloodline. I have disappointed them all. But, I might as well go further and write a fic lol. This is absolute trash, written with the pure intent to put a smile on someone’s face. Also idk how to write about the actual process of doing the deed so I left it to your imagination.
Also warning, this has not been proofread cuz i don’t want to die of cringe a second time. so. proceed with caution.
Also tell me who the “he” is!!! hehe
The gasp left your lips before your hands could muffle the sound. A small gurgle of shock— no excitement —followed. Hidden beneath your trembling fingers was a crazed smile that fought to break out. As much as you wanted to squeal out the bubbling feeling in your chest, you had to squash it. You had to. Or else you would be exposed.
You were wasting the day away with the mind numbing entertainment of tiktok videos before landing on the gem that caused all your tingling anguish. In all its alluring glory, a man with platinum blonde hair rolled his hips with the same lust as the music that blared in your headphones. You couldn’t help it. Watching with the comment section pulled up to save some inkling of innocence. Yet, you knew deep down that your name was long crossed out from the invite list to heaven.
As the dilemma of a hell fated demise complimented the rolling of the man’s hips, another issue reared its cruel face in the form of a masculine hand that swooped from above to snatch away your phone. It was so quick you had no chance to hide the evidence. It was as if god reached down from above to finally give you the punishment that you acquired through the years of existence. However, the notion was quickly wiped away as a delusional dream as you stared up at the face that was grinning with arrows of fire shooting out of his eyes.
‘Ooo.’ You thought sarcastically. This was the end.
“I-“ But you were cut off by the smile growing maniacally wider as the he watched the video loop over and over again.
“So. This is what you watch in your free time?” His voice traced down your spine menacingly, as if it was a declaration of your imminent doom. You flipped around to sit properly on the couch, now serving as your seat of judgement, with your cheeks warming from dread, fear, and a dash of mortification. The words that continued from him trailed away as your inner monologue of despair began. You reached the point of internally screaming to the gods when you were jerked out of your lamentations forcibly. Your eyes focused on the handsome face you called your boyfriend, finally allowing acceptance to displace the fear as you saw the burning pits of fire in those beautiful eyes.
“Hmm… so you also like to ignore me too?” Then his smile was replaced with a mock pout. “Maybe I’m not fulfilling my duties as your boyfriend properly. I’m sorry b a b e, let me redeem myself. ‘Kay?”
That high-pitched “‘Kay?” was the final nail to your metaphorical coffin as your phone was thrown so far it landed back at its maker’s backyard. You were picked up like a sack of rice, flipped and swung over his shoulders with such ease you wondered if you needed to continue your workouts.
“My lord?” You said with a weak chuckle.
“What shall be my punishment?” You wondered, eyes watching the couch growing further away.
When you heard that chuckle, your stomach fluttered. You just weren’t sure if it was from endearment or the lunch you had making its mark on your stomach lining.
“What do you mean punishment? I’m only trying to fix my errors and give you what you desire.”
“And what do I desire?” You were almost fearful to ask, as you knew exactly what this was leading to.
If you could see the dark grin on his face, you would have began writing your last will and testament. The day was long, but the night was longer.
“Please.” You cried, eyes so unfocused you saw waves instead of his face. It had been hours of him “doing his duty” and “learning from that tiktok video you were drooling at”. If you thought that man’s hips rolled like the hills, the man above you now was setting a whole new standard, and you were the model for his success as your cries rung out through the day—into night.
“Hmm?” His voice full of mirth and satisfaction. “Is it not enough, my love?” His words punctuated with another drawn out roll of his hips, coaxing out a trembling whimper from your lips. The hands that gripped limply at his shoulders fell to your mouth, attempting to muffle the slew of groans from escaping you.
“Nuh uh.” His hands securing your arms by your side, safely away from your mouth. “If my job is to make you feel good, then your job is to charm me with your beautiful cries.”
And with that statement, the night continued along, seemingly never-ending.
His hands rubbed soothing circles at the base of your spine, a satisfied smile keeping him from seeming even remotely apologetic at rendering you a soulless shell. You felt your life wisp away with every breathless pant, internally swearing away all technology to live a life of an ascetic monk.
“And they say jealous girls are scary.” You mumbled. “They haven’t met you.”
He laughed, his fingers gently massaging up and down your spine. “What do you mean? I was just trying to satisfy my girlfriend.”
“I’m dead. My will is that I leave all to Spoofles and you only get nothing.”
He laughed even harder, the vibrations traveling down to his hands. It shook your next words. “Stop laughing!” You huffed. “I’m very mad right now.” You found the strength to kick at the hands rubbing the soreness away. “No touching for an indefinite amount of time.”
“Please have mercy.” He chuckled, placing a kiss at your cheeks with every word. “I will simply die if I can’t touch you.”
“How about we call it even?”
You made a disgusted face. “You scammer! They’re not even remotely the same!”
“How about I deliver you boba for a week?”
You hummed. “Okay now you’re talking my speed… but.. two weeks.” You displayed to fingers, to which he pushed one down. “One and I do the chores for that week.”
When permission is given to a man sick with love, it always leads to the grievances of the receiver.
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