#tw bottom reader

putting out his cigarette, he bid the other two members of the smoker’s club adieu. whenever he thought about you, all of his thoughts became jumbled and tangled together. anger, frustration, elation, confusion, horror, arousal, and many other things tangled up into one feeling he liked to associate with just… you. it was better than feeling terrified of himself or entirely apathetic. once he was behind his cell door, he immediately locked it and shucked his outermost layers.

he didn’t pay much attention to what he was doing, although he knew it was his hand wrapped around his dick rather than the feeling of being inside of someone else- inside of you. or what he imagined you in particular to feel like.

today, he pictured himself breaking you. tears streaming down your face from being edged to your absolute limits to being overstimulated, sort of like a cycle. perhaps it was because he was simply in a mean mood currently. he whimpered out his nickname for you as he imagined your voice calling out weakly for him, a small whine pitching in his throat. he covered his mouth and soon he was through; the first round of it anyways.