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mysteria157 · 2 months

Text

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Black Fem Reader

CW: Profanity, Light Angst, Alcohol Consumption, Explicit Sexual Content, Missionary, Cowgirl, Fingering, Fingersucking, Cunnilingus, Slight Dom Reader (not much), Car Sex, Bathroom Sex

WC: ~16k (It's long so get some snacks)

Summary:

Maybe you're single for a reason. You’re too outspoken and mean to men, too demanding with your expectations, and you refuse to settle for less. For the ones who aren't worth the air they breathe, you chew them up and spit them out. You savor the taste so you know what to avoid the next time.

So when he looks down at you with that devilish smirk and calls you 'Princess', you're determined to prove that Toji Fushiguro is no exception.

Notes: Hello! This is my first fic with Toji and I'm nervous to get it out here. The setting of this fic and the elements I incorporated connect a lot with my own childhood and the memories (not the interactions in this fic) that I had at family cookouts and get-togethers. Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated! Happy reading!

Dividers: @royallaesthetics @eloquentmoon Header: myself (stability.ai)

Masterlist | Ao3 | Twitter | **Sequel**

**Do not plagiarize any of my works or translate without my permission!**

“Can I get you a drink, princess?”

When you meet Toji Fushiguro for the first time, it’s on the fourth of July at your uncle’s house. It’s a big get-together at a two-story house located in the countryside. Every year he opens up his spacious home for a gathering of your extended family to bring excessive amounts of alcohol, play old school rap and R&B too loudly, devour delicious fucking food, and set off fireworks that have been collected since the beginning of the year.

Your uncle has already made a home by the grill and taken control of the speakers after one of your younger cousins attempted to play something ‘a little too racy’ for his tastes. You’re pretty sure it was an Ice Cube song from the 90s that your uncle hates but is too proud to admit, so he lectures your cousin about ‘what young folks should be listening to’ instead.

The smell of hamburgers and ribs has been teasing your nose for the past hour, and your hunger is borderline unbearable with each sniff. You avoid the allure of the long table of food because if you look, you’ll be three plates in before the meat is done. There’s coleslaw, baked beans, greens, and macaroni and cheese. Your favorite aunt also brought her potato salad and you know she’s going to make yellow cake with chocolate frosting fresh before the fireworks. You love it so much and you were deprived of it last year when you were called in to work at the last minute. You will get some today.

The backyard is expansive and well-maintained, and your cousins and aunts have already laid their claim on swanky cushions of the nice patio furniture.

The one cousin you’re closest to in age and personality sits next to you on a large blanket a few yards away from the rising volume of your extended family. You were able to get a good ten minutes of conversation from her before her fiancé showed up and made a home inside of her mouth.

Your family normally has something to say about PDA—a stupid quip about acting ‘too grown’ even though you are both knocking on the door of thirty. But she doesn’t care—just like you, that’s why you like her so much even though her fiancé is sucking on her face like it’s his last day on Earth.

Shiu Kong is nice—gentle in his own way and carries himself with a bored air that seems to pull your cousin in. He’s enamored with her, practically folds in on himself when she’s around, and worships the ground she walks on. They’ve been together for a few years and you’ve never had a problem with him.

But that just might change today because he’s brought along a friend who has already ignited a flame of arousal and annoyance deep within your belly. From the moment Toji Fushiguro stepped into the backyard with Shiu, your family was transfixed. Your aunts can’t stop ogling, and your uncles and male cousins try to jokingly size him up.

“Oh honey why don’t you sit down, don’t be shy. Lemme get you something to drink.”

“That’s not steroids? It’s gotta be. Don’t play.”

“How much you bench?”

It’s annoying. So fucking annoying but you can’t help but agree. He’s a little older—maybe early thirties—but dangerously attractive.

Raven hair that reaches his ears, looks unbelievably soft and falls over emerald green eyes. A grey shirt hugs him too fucking deliciously for your comfort and dark jeans hug an ass that’s too fucking juicy. He’s a big man—a burly man and unfortunately, that’s how you like them.

Big, burly like a bear, respectful, and capable of making you feel small and protected but also valuing and worshipping you as a woman. Unfortunately, such men are hard to come by because you tend to intimidate them. You don’t tolerate disrespect in any form and quickly put men in their place if they try to undermine, belittle, or confuse protection with control. You know what you want, and you refuse to settle for less.

They can’t stand it.

And right now, you can’t stand Toji. As he looks down at you with a well-worn smirk on his face, a smirk that suggests he has plenty of experience in situations like this, your irritation grows. He’s a smooth talker, confident in almost everything he says. His voice is deep, but melodic in a strangely feminine way that makes his words slide like silk down your back, and the minute you heard it, your thighs threatened to rub together.

Definitely a smooth talker. But the nickname you don’t care for.

Princess.

Like you’re a dainty little thing who will bat her eyelashes and call him Daddy. It makes your walls of self-defense rise even higher, and the gentle smile you had given Shiu when he first said hello moments ago transforms into the beginnings of a frown.

Without hesitation, you rise to your feet, plant your wedges firm into the grass, and turn away from them before muttering, “I’m good.”

Toji simply shrugs; a gesture that annoys you even more because he doesn’t offer any other reaction that satisfies you. He settles into your previously vacated spot, leaning back on his hands. The jacket on his shoulders falls open and the sight of his shirt hugging his muscles is too much for you.

You inwardly curse as your eyes wander over his physique. Thick pectorals that you could easily rub your face against and make a pillow for yourself to sleep on stretch the fabric in a way that you’re sure it’ll rip. Abdominals tease just below the surface of his shirt that clings to him like a second skin. You want to lick between each one, press your teeth into the hard skin to make him wince and beg as you count each one.

Four, six, eight?

Fuck.

You don’t show how you want to straighten your spine against the chill of being caught staring. That smirk is on his face again, tugging at the corner of his mouth. There’s a scar on the right side that slashes vertically over his top and bottom lip and you dislike the arousal that begins to boil between your legs from the sight. You wonder how he got it. If it was a fight, did he win? The thought of him wrestling another man to the floor and taking a cut to the face in the process shouldn’t arouse you, but god it does.

His eyes make you think of moss as you watch them slide up your body, and it almost feels like invisible hands caressing you. They’re large and pale, littered with scars along the knuckles as they glide up your exposed chocolate legs, dip between your inner thighs, and caress the curves of your hips.

“See something you like?”

He’s ogling you but has the nerve to try and put you on the spot? You have enough self-control to let logic worm through the rising lust inside of you. You sneer down at him, sharp enough for Shiu to visibly pale and your cousin to giggle at.

“To be honest, I don’t really see much.”

You don’t give him a chance to retort and you pretend not to hear the soft hum of nonchalance he throws back. You walk away from them, turning just in time to shield the way your eyes widen at the feel of your face and neck prickling with heat.

The moment you close the bathroom door inside your uncle’s house, the breath trapped within your lungs escapes in a rush. You press your forehead against the wood and the coolness of it offers only little relief to the burning of your skin.

You turn your head and press your cheek against the wood so the cold surface can slide along your cheek as you open your eyes to take in your reflection.

Of course, Toji would ogle you. You’re confident enough to know your beauty.

A red sundress that hugs your curves, stops at your mid-thighs. Knotless braids with curled ends are piled on top of your head in a loose bun with a few strands that spill along your hairline.

You’re good-looking. But you’ve been out of practice with a man for a long time. Your last relationship ended when you caught him balls-deep in your coworker. You’re too shy to pursue a one-night stand and not detached enough for a situationship.

However, you could risk it all for Toji and you hate that you’re entertaining the thought. You hate that you’re imagining him barging into the bathroom, bending you over the counter, and taking you from behind with his large hand digging into the small of your back and whispering how much of a good girl you are as you beg him to cum.

God, get yourself together.

To calm yourself down, you find solace in your uncle’s quiet kitchen. There’s only one person occupying it, your favorite aunt, who is heavily pregnant and working on the yellow cake that you’ve been thinking about all day. You use the opportunity to distract yourself and take over for her, shooing her away to relax in the backyard.

You crack an egg against the off-white countertop, fractures splitting up the sides before spilling its contents into the silver mixing bowl in front of you. A self-deprecating thought slithers in your ears, and whispers loudly with wicked intention.

Toji wouldn’t want a woman like you.

You’re too outspoken and mean to men, too demanding with your expectations. It pushes them all away, and although you normally take pride in keeping away those who aren’t worth your time, it can get lonely.

To see your ex actively cheating on you was icing on a cake that was slowly cooking in an oven of your own self-doubt. You have standards, and while your friends consider you the voice of reason in their misfortunes with men, most members of your family think you’re too picky. You’re too much work, ‘you think you know everything’.

“Men will always have a wandering eye, it’s up to you to keep them in check, girl.”

“Honey, I love you, but the more you pick apart a man, the less he will want to be around you.”

“They love it when you cook for them, girl. Take care of your man and keep him fed and you’ll keep him forever.”

Bullshit.

It’s bullshit to take care of a man in the same way his own mother does. It’s bullshit to lose all sense of self and independence, to wait on a man when he gives you less than nothing in return—when he can hardly give you the bare minimum. You don’t mind cooking for a man who takes care of you, who loves and values you, who would never hold you back and would encourage you when you can hardly encourage yourself.

But all the good ones are in relationships now, married with a few kids, and in your resolve to stay strong and weed out the bad to find the good, it’s left you a little bitter.

Most black families are old school, and yours is no exception. They hold ‘for better or worse’ a little too close to their heart. They cling to an ideal that a man runs the household down to the basics in a way that makes you uneasy and in your defense, you snap when you’re backed into a corner.

You love them, you truly do, but they probably will never understand just how aware you are of the world and how little you are willing to put up with the problematic things that others consider normal.

Your ex was great at first. But he got comfortable. And when he got comfortable, he got lazy, a little too controlling, and a little too frustrated when you asked for certain things in the bedroom. The only person who knows about your breakup is your mother, who had the gall to be out of the country for work, leaving you to fend for yourself for today.

You watch as the batter spills on each side of your wooden spoon, parting and then falling back together like sand. In your reverie, you don’t notice a few of your relatives who have now entered the kitchen and are roaming through the fridge. You can hear one of your least favorite aunts—the bitchy one—playfully joking with someone, and whatever drivel comes out of her mouth makes that person laugh. It’s deep and suave enough to make a tingle of electricity stutter down your spine because you know it’s him.

Refusing to look in their direction, you continue mixing the batter until the lumps disappear.

“You been hiding in this kitchen for awhile now,” your aunt begins, Atlanta accent the most grating it’s ever been as she turns her gaze toward you. “You’re normally a little more talkative when your man is here. He not coming?”

There is not a trace of genuine concern in her tone. You and her bicker often; she presses your buttons and then gets mad when you press back. Your ex’s infidelity is ammunition you don’t want to give her, but being caught in a lie is something she would only treasure more to use against you later.

You clear your throat and turn the spoon in the batter once, then twice before answering without looking her way.

“No, he actually came inside of my coworker a few weeks ago. So we split up.”

You can feel the noise before you hear it—a characteristic and sharp ‘mmm’ that seems to be ingrained in your family’s DNA. It makes your grip tighten on the wooden spoon, and you scrape along the bottom of the bowl until it screeches on the metal.

“You gotta watch out for this one, Toji. She’s always been an outspoken one. Too good for ‘em all and likes to be a little mean to her men.”

You scrape harder and then turn to her, a sickly sweet smile plastered on your face.

“You’re right. The fact that I won’t settle for someone who will get bored with me after a few years makes me way too good for them. Should have turned the other cheek just like you did with your last husband. Or…was it the one before him?”

You catch the way Toji pulls his lips in to bite down on them, scar twitching as he fights to hold in a snicker.

Your aunt glares at you, purses her lips, and turns them to the side before pulling in a noise that has been passed down for generations. Her mother and her mother’s mother used the very same tactic to strike fear and insignificance in their children when they talked back. It’s a sucking of air between her teeth and the sound makes years of discipline from your own mother flash in your mind like you’re in the trenches of war.

You know she wants to say something, and you can taste the ‘you always got something to say’ in the air before Toji slides from his perch against the counter and places a hand on your aunt’s shoulder.

“Let’s get you a drink, huh? Didn’t you say you wanted me to try the beer you brought in?” She throws you a knowing glare before letting Toji lead her away; because if there is one thing that will distract her from showing out, it’s letting a good-looking man touch her.

The shaking in your hands helps you sift in the dry ingredients—a mix of sugar, flour, and baking soda—into the batter. The breaths through your nostrils are heavy and thick with anger, and the corners of your eyes sting with heat. You whip the batter harder than necessary, your aunt’s words replaying in your mind like a broken record.

Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry. Don’t—

The sight of a can of hard seltzer pressing onto the counter in front of you makes the ramblings in your mind stop. Familiar long fingers unfurl from the can and slide on the counter, their fingertips touching the edges of your mixing bowl in an effort to get to you.

“I would have given you a bottle of beer. But I had a feeling you might bash it over your aunt’s head.” He’s not wrong, and in your frustrated state, you consider his defense admirable. “I like a fight, but I’m a guest and the food looks good.”

Your grip on the spoon loosens slightly as Toji leans casually against the refrigerator, arms crossed over bulging biceps that stretch the short sleeves of his shirt. His jacket is now gone, and you can’t help but notice the veins in his forearms that protrude, tempting you to lick against them.

It takes the sheer will to tear your eyes away and focus on pouring the batter into the bundt cake mold, observing as it fills the intricate crevices.

“So he cheated? Most men are pigs.”

“But not you, huh?” you can’t help but retort, shaking the mold to disperse the air pockets that bubble on the surface.

In your peripheral, he shrugs. “I know what I like in a woman and once I get what I want, it makes no sense to look somewhere else unless she wants me gone. I’m a man…but I’m a loyal man.”

When you meet his emerald gaze, you can see a hint of pain and vulnerability that unsettles you, tilts you back on your heels from the force of his honesty. You reach for the can of seltzer and take a long swig to give yourself time to get your thoughts in order. The carbonation is sweet and fizzles along the sides of your tongue and down your throat.

“So what is it you like in a woman, Toji?”

It’s a question that probably should have been left untouched, but your curiosity overpowers your restraint. You don’t want to go back outside, because if your aunt is still feeling particularly petty, she will say something that will only make you leave. And you don’t feel like letting your family win today.

Toji’s strong gaze certainly isn’t helping. Those invisible hands slide along the crevices and dips of your body, stroking the small of your back before pressing featherlight against the back of your neck. The hairs rise in response, your skin prickling with gooseflesh.

Unexpectedly, he pushes off the refrigerator and walks closer to you, and you’re too shocked to back away. Despite his imposing stature, you know he won’t harm you. There’s something about him that’s warm and inviting, soft and tender even though his exterior is hard lines and muscle. The two of you are now mere inches apart, and the air feels thin as if you’ve reached the summit of a mountain and struggle to breathe due to the change in altitude.

Jet black locks graze against a rough cheek, the tips kissing the raised scar on the side of his mouth. Up close you can see his features more closely. His eyes are sharp and intense with deep green between his lids as if hiding a pearl in an oyster. Thin eyebrows make him look more serious and cutting and you’re swallowing back drool because your nose picks up a faint whiff of woodsy amber emitting from his body. It smells cheap—he’s put together in the most basic sense—but it still smells…good.

“I like a woman who knows what she’s about. Independent and doesn’t fuck around. Smart and pretty with curves I can grab and squeeze. Someone with some sass and isn’t afraid to put anyone in their place.”

He steps closer and your lungs heave in a desperate attempt to pull in air. The brush of the wall against your back makes you stutter out your exhale and you press your palms flat against the cool surface to keep you grounded.

“I like a woman with nice creamy brown skin that smells a little like the cake she’s baking…” Through the sea of delirium, you distantly realize that he’s describing you. “The red dress definitely is a bonus.”

That familiar smirk pulls against his lips again and your heart is thundering in your chest. You would be surprised if he couldn’t see it thumping erratically beneath the skin between what’s exposed of your cleavage.

But this is just another trick in their book to get you in their bed. Or in the bathroom. Or over the kitchen counter.

And as much as you want to, you can’t give in. Because you’ll hate yourself tomorrow.

So you tilt your chin up at him and narrow your eyes at his amused expression.

“Describing me in place of your ‘ideal woman’? That’s boring. Go use it on my bitchy aunt, she’s got fillers in her ass so that’s more curves for you to ‘grab and squeeze’ when she throws herself on you after the Hennessey kicks in.”

Toji’s eyes widen slightly before a harsh laugh barks from his mouth. It’s surprisingly nice on your ears and rattles the drums inside in a way that you don’t dislike. He pulls away from you, giving you a few more inches of space and the altitude in the air seems to level out enough for you to take an inconspicuous deep breath.

“Nah, nothing against fillers, but I’m more of a natural man myself,” he admits.

“Cellulite and stretch marks?” you ask with a lift of a brow, teasing but…mildly curious.

You watch as that smile slowly slides on his face, teeth glittering and eyebrows raising. He looks like he’s hit the jackpot.

“The whole package, princess.”

Biting the inside of your cheek to suppress a smile, you push down the lingering arousal in your stomach, refusing to let it simmer. He’s funny and you appreciate a man who loves the raw and often overlooked intricacies of a woman.

His response is disorienting, throwing you off balance, and you’re unsure of what to do next. Your usual response is to talk back, to take delight in a man fumbling when his own cards have been turned against him. But you can’t think of anything right now.

You move around him to place the bundt cake mold into the oven, setting a timer with the plastic buttons above the stove. Snatching the seltzer from the counter, you lean back against the oven, putting a considerable distance between the two of you to think.

Toji mimics your movements, retreating to the fridge to relax against it, folding his arms across his chest, and god he still takes up the room. Even though you’re further away, it still seems like you can smell the cologne as if it’s sitting right on the skin below your nose.

“Do your moves always work on women?” you ask before taking a good swig of your seltzer.

He shrugs in response and turns around to dig a beer from the fridge. You don’t bother to hold back the urge to leer at him. You want to grab his ass, listen to him squeal in surprise, and blush in embarrassment when you squeeze. The thought of digging your fingers into the skin of it as he fucks you nice and slow makes your mind short circuit, a computer rebooting and making a loud noise before frying out indefinitely.

“On the rare occasion that I happen to use them, yes they always work. But…obviously not on you.”

“I’m not easy to win over. You need to be worth my time.” Your eyes flicker up to his face before he turns around to face you.

He takes a swig of his beer and you watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs with each swallow. The column of his throat is long and pale and you want to slide your tongue along the side to taste the saltiness of his skin.

“What’s it going to take?”

His interest in you is admirable, and a small part of you is giddy with the attention. But you’re nervous to give him an inch when most are quick to take a mile.

“I have a name so stop calling me princess. I’m not a royal, so unless you’re offering me land, money, or power, I don’t want to hear it.”

He barks out another laugh, his thick chest shaking and eyes closing as he throws his head back. You despise how good it sounds and you’re reminded of these moments when men seem so beautiful and wonderful before the ugliest parts of them are visible.

“What else?” he inquires, still chuckling as he takes another long sip.

“If you’re expecting sex from me, think again. I don’t do one-night stands or friends with benefits. It’s messy and I just don’t have the strength for it.”

He seems to consider your remark as if he has no choice but to weigh your stipulation before signing a contract. Then he smirks that devilish smirk that makes your cunt pulse between your thighs when you know damn well it shouldn’t. You cannot be this turned on by this man.

“Not even if I have a big dick?” he teases.

He’s annoying and you’re mildly disgusted but still willing to banter with him, so you grimace and roll your eyes. “What, you want me to take a look first before I make up my mind?”

He full-on grins, the fucker. “If that’s what it takes.”

But in true fashion, you bounce back with your own quip. “Public indecency is a crime and I also don’t like to look at cock until after I’ve eaten something. It’s nauseating.”

Laughter erupts from him once again, loud and boisterous that it seems to shake the oven against your back. He probably thinks you’re joking. But you’re not. Dick already looks alien. Looking at dick on purpose without any sense of arousal is pathological behavior.

Your heart flips in your chest when he pushes off the refrigerator again, taking a swig of his beer as he saunters to you and the sight is criminal. Your fingers dig just slightly into the metal can in your hands, a faint pop emanating from it.

“What are you bothering me for anyway,” you can’t help but ask, frustration coating your words as you frown more at yourself than at Toji. “I have so many other cousins here who are single and would love to get their hands on you.”

At first, he doesn’t respond, and in the silence, you struggle to take a full breath again. You don’t like that he’s so close to you, but you also love the way he smells and the way he looks at you as if you’re someone and not something to fucking eat. You’re a fucking mess.

His head tilts slightly, and his hair follows the movement, brushing against his cheeks as his eyes take you in instead of scrutinizing you.

The air feels thin again, and you ready yourself to leave when your pregnant aunt suddenly barges back into the kitchen and stops short at the scene. Toji takes a slow step back, not really bothering to fumble at being so close to you. You’re sure he doesn’t really care.

She’s your favorite for a reason because she understands. She’s not dismissive and mean and she simply smiles knowingly at you both before gesturing with her head towards the backdoor.

“Time to eat. Honey, why don’t you show Toji what’s what before your uncles steal everything.”

***

He stays close to you when you both make it outside, and you do your best to ignore your bitchy aunt’s gaze from her perch in one of the patio chairs. The spread of food makes your mouth water and you waste no time grabbing a plate for yourself and absentmindedly handing Toji one as well.

“I’ve never had some of this before,” he admits, and his voice is a little apprehensive from next to you as he takes everything in. It makes sense, this is probably his first cookout…his first black cookout at least. Strangely, you’re proud to be the one to guide him along.

“What is this?” he asks, pointing to the heavy helping of greens and ham hocks on his plate minutes later. You’re both at a small table alone and away from the noise.

“Collard greens…it’s a cabbage that’s cooked in a pot for a few hours with spices and broth. The ham hocks give it flavor, cook it before you add the greens so the meat falls off the bone better.”

You bite your lip to keep from laughing as Toji gives them a wayward glance, an arch of a thin brow that makes his features more handsome than they should be, and then he takes a tentative bite before moaning sinfully in appreciation. The vertebrae of your spine lock in place, stiff with a sudden chill at the noise as you picture it slipping from his lips while you ride him until the hinges fall off.

You take your own bite to stop anything stupid from coming out of your mouth.

You figure he has to eat to accommodate for his size but to see it in action is something else entirely. He finishes two plates in fifteen minutes and as he makes his way to get another serving, your bitch of an aunt speaks up from across the lawn.

“Why don’t you get up and get him another plate?”

Why don’t you shut the fuck up?

You grip the plastic fork in your hand tightly, digging into your diminishing potato salad and swallowing the vile that you want to throw her way.

Make your man a plate before you make yours, get him a drink, get him another helping so he doesn’t have to, keep him fed.

Maybe this is why you’re single. You want to scream. You want—

“Don’t listen to her. You’re still eating, don’t move,” he levels, and you don’t miss the hint of irritation in his own voice as he gets up. “The same seltzer as before?” he asks, pointing to your drink that you didn’t realize was empty.

“I—”, you fumble before clearing your throat. “I like the strawberry one…if there’s any left.”

He shoots a wink your way and your body ignites with heat.

Your cousin worms her way over when Toji disappears, and you try your best to ignore the sly look on her face.

“Defending your honor from our bitchy aunt? My, my, the perfect recipe for your feminist heart.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you growl, shoving the last of the potato salad in your mouth.

“He’s Shiu’s best friend. Moved here from Japan a few months ago and is living in the same city as you. It could be fate? You want his number?”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap again, feeling exasperated but knowing that unless Shiu is here to stop her, she will talk until she’s tired or you’re swinging at her.

She giggles, undeterred and gearing up for more. “He’s single too. And you’ve got all our other cousins mad as hell because he won’t leave you alone.” You don’t reply, because you’re mildly intrigued and impressed with yourself. It’s nice to have the attention from someone so attractive; it’s just figuring out if he’s genuine that’s the headache. “When the music gets louder tonight…or when the fireworks go off, take him upstairs and fuck him on—”

“Didn’t I say—fuck you.”

She guffaws, loud and unabashed and it pulls a smile from the side of your mouth. You know she doesn’t mean it, you know that at gatherings like these, you’re the black sheep and she just wants you to enjoy yourself.

“Seriously though, cousin. Shiu doesn’t keep many around, but they’ve been friends since they were kids. That’s a good sign right?”

There’s some merit to it, but you still want to be careful.

And Toji Fushiguro makes it hard for you to be careful because he wants you around him all the time and is unashamed to show it.

Later in the night when the music is booming old school hip hop that your uncle won’t shut up about (he’s drunk), your other uncles—and a few cousins they will definitely con—have a table already bustling with spades. At first, you’re unsure how they convinced Toji to join, but he’s partnered with one of your cousins who has no clue about the game, and you realize they just want Toji to lose so they can feel good.

Feeling curious, you pretend to bring Toji a beer. He’s frowning down at the cards, irritated with his lips curled into a small scowl and your cousin is trying to act like he knows what to do, but his stupidity is palpable even from where you stand.

You offer him a beer and ignore the fact that the one on the table is still full. When he looks up at you, his sharp eyes hold you like a vice, frustration evaporating quickly before opportunity takes its place.

“Help me.” He doesn’t bother to hide the confusion in his voice and you can’t help the way your stomach flips.

One of your uncle’s snickers. “She doesn’t know how to play.” You do. “But she can try.”

You’re so annoyed, and you want to snap at him but Toji is pulling you closer to him with a muscular arm before you can. You’re in his lap before you know it, sitting precariously on a thick thigh with your back pressed against a broad chest and you can’t breathe again. The fluctuating altitudes are making you lightheaded.

Any other time and you wouldn’t hesitate to turn around and knock a man’s teeth in for grabbing you. But against your better judgment, you relax into Toji instead. His cheap cologne smells way too fucking good, he’s so big and warm against your body and your throat is drying up like you’ve taken a big breath in the middle of the Sahara.

“Don’t grab me like that,” you can’t help but grumble, only mildly put off.

“I improvised.” It’s a feeble excuse wrapped around a heavenly chuckle in your ear and you pray to whoever is listening, mentally offering up a sacrificial lamb, anything to ensure you don’t drip all over his thigh. “Now help me win.”

You do. Three times. He's adamant about winning and you're sure he has a gambling problem. And if your legs go a little numb from sitting on his thigh or if you lean into the way his outside hand slides to hold the curve of your waist, you don’t complain about it.

***

“You don’t dance?” Toji asks an hour later, joining you on the blanket that you occupied when you first arrived. It’s almost sunset, and the orange of the sky covers half of the backyard as your family revels in their merriment.

You shrug at Toji’s question, gazing at members of your family who are dancing in the yard. One of your loudest uncles is boasting about the music as he teaches one of your cousins dance steps. That used to be you so many years ago, and the moves are like muscle memory as you watch them. One of your aunts takes over the stereo, beginning what will surely be an hour of reminding everyone of the greatest hits.

You suddenly realize that it’s just you and Toji on the blanket. Your cousin and Shiu are off god knows where, and given her penchant for being a rebellious freak, she’s probably riding him on your uncle’s bed. The thought makes you shudder.

“Are you cold?” he probes, pulling you out of your thoughts.

It is cooler now, but that’s not why you were shivering. You’re ready to tell him no, to start shaking your head even as you watch him pull his own jacket off to place it over your shoulders. His hands smooth over your shoulders and down your arms as if securing it closer to your skin and your blood boils beneath your cheeks. Your skin isn’t light enough to show when you’re blushing, but you’re burning with nervousness.

“Stop being so nice to me,” you hiss instinctively, regretting the words as soon as they leave your mouth. The surprise is evident on his face and you immediately feel guilty. “I’m—I’ll only be mean to you in return.”

For the first time of the night, he looks angry. His eyebrows dip, the scar on his cheek twists with the harsh frown on his lips and he gives a severe ‘tch’ that makes you gape at him. “Why because you’re mean to men?” he snaps, impatient and free of any tease.

It raises your hackles instantly, and you’re talking back before you know it. “Exactly. So why don’t you take a hint and stop trying to get into my pants—”

You feel a rough finger on the side of your cheek turn you further towards him, preventing you from looking at anything else.

“You just don’t like bullshit. Stop acting up and let me be nice to you.”

For once, you don’t have anything to say even though your hand is twitching with the urge to slap the words from his mouth. You want to. It’s easy for you to fight back and push them away, you’re good at it. But you can’t fight the way his gaze seems to calm you down against your better judgment.

You pull your face from his hold and roll your shoulders, sliding out of his sharp gaze and turning back to your lively family. One of your cousins is arguing about why the Cowboys didn’t make it into the playoffs, and now everyone has something to say.

You pull in a deep breath, scolding yourself to relax just a little. He hasn’t been so bad, and you’re not one to make things intentionally difficult if a man is honestly trying. You’re still apprehensive about his intentions…but he is trying without being a beast. So you exhale your frustrations into the July air, calm down so your heart can steady its frantic pounding from the lingering scent of his cologne, and dig your fingers into your uncle’s well-kept grass.

“Fine. If I let you be nice to me…what would be the next thing you would say?”

You can’t look at him, but you feel his eyes on your body as you pluck a few blades of grass from the soil. The strands slide against the pads of your fingertips, rough and threatening to cut, before fluttering in the breeze when you release them.

He’s grabbing you again, tenderly but possessively, sliding you into his embrace so your back is to his muscular chest, his chin rests on the side of your temple and his arms wrap around your waist. Your heart is back to leaping in your chest, pumping loud and fast in your ears, drowning out the music and arguing as if you’re underwater.

“How about you tell me about your family?” he suggests, voice unmuffled through the thickness of your hearing.

It’s a random ask, as if he wants to impress them, as if you’ve been dating for a long period of time and he wants to be prepared to meet them for the first time. The thought doesn’t leave a bad taste in your mouth, even though you know it would never be a reality anyway. You don’t know if he’s just joking and frankly, the feel of him against you is warmer than his jacket on your shoulders and you don’t want to leave.

So, if it means he can stay put, you give in. You tell him about your aunts, uncles, and cousins—where they are from and what they do. You share your traditions when you all get together and the small intricacies you all share. It’s incredibly personal…maybe even too intimate. But he listens, and hums to let you know he’s paying attention, and asks you questions as you talk.

Eventually, his cheek rests on the crown of your head against your braids and you surprisingly don’t mind at all. When you notice his arms wrapped around you, you get a better view of the scars on his arms and fingers, and there is a rising urge to ask how he got each one.

“So she’s been married twice?” his voice is low in your ear so you can only hear him in the noisy backyard. His breath smells faintly of the beer he finished an hour ago, and it slides along the skin of your neck hot and thick. You resist the urge to cant your neck to the side to give his breath more room to roam.

You nod. “She got the fillers after the first husband. Those brought in the second husband. Then he left her for some girl in Cali.”

“Cali?’ he questions, confused.

You snort softly. “California.” You elbow him and the bone slides against hard muscle. Dammit. “You don’t know your states?”

“I’m foreign, not stupid.” The laugh that bubbles from your chest is sharp and you can’t help the smile that pulls against your cheeks from it. “I know my states!” He sounds truly annoyed and for some reason that makes you laugh harder. “Florida, Kansas—”

“I’m not asking you to prove yourself!” you sputter around a giggle, shaking in his embrace. But he’s not listening.

“Montana, New York…there’s another one…the big one.”

You gawk, turning just a little to crane your head up at him. He looks down at you with an embarrassed expression, his cheeks a little rosy even though his lips are flickering with the urge to laugh.

“I beg your finest pardon…the big one?”

The side of his face twists in the nastiest way, and he’s angry at being questioned. “Don’t—it’s the one down below!”

“In relation to what?”

His eyes narrow, emerald barely noticeable between thick lashes. You can sense his hold on you tightening slightly, his chest stutters in a huff and you realize with rising glee that he’s pouting. Normally you would revel in this…but—

“Texas,” you find yourself speaking up at him, voice soft and gentle on the edges. “The big one down below is Texas.”

He simply hums, his chest vibrating against your back, but his gaze is smoldering, taking you in and dipping down to your lips before flickering back up your eyes. You’re too hot now, his jacket against your skin too suffocating, your heart beating too fast against your ribcage.

You hate just how rebellious you like to be. “What, you gonna kiss me?”

The challenge is fleeting across his features and he leans down so quickly that you don’t have time to react. Your stomach flips with irritation at the implication that he would take from you without asking, and suddenly, you no longer want him touching you.

“I wouldn’t take it without asking,” he whispers in the small space between you both as if reading your thoughts. The tips of his raven locks brush against your cheek, there’s a slight kink in your neck from how you are looking up at him, but he’s so close that you don’t care. One of his hands skims up from your waist, caressing the curve of your ribs, and his thumb teasingly runs along the underside of your clothed breast. His touch is reactive in you, and you angle your body further into his actions. His gaze remains locked on yours, absorbing your very being without doing a thing and you’re fighting to stay in control.

“So can I?” he asks, voice deep with temptation. “Kiss you?”

You swallow the bucket of drool that has somehow pooled in the back of your throat in seconds. The thumping of your heart no longer fills your ears, replaced now by a deafening ringing, spurred by your growing desire as you open your mouth to respond.

“I…depends…are you any good?”

He nonchalantly shrugs, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as his scarred lips twist into a smirk. He’s completely calm and you can tell if you told him no, he would leave it alone entirely. But he’s enjoying this, you can see it all over his face.

“Jury’s still out.”

You don’t trust yourself to say ‘yes’. Some part of you feels like if it comes out of your mouth, it will sound too desperate and you want to stay in control as much as you can. But, you could give yourself this. You’ve earned it. Just one kiss and then you could hide away until the fireworks and then use the noise as a cover to leave. After all, he’s hot. He’s been so nice and honest and the warning siren in your mind has long faded.

You deserve a reward.

So you nod, stiffly but enough for him to notice, and the air seems to thin out again when he leans in a little more.

“Toji!” one of your uncles calls out, severing through the heavy cloud of lust between you both like a knife. You recoil from his touch, his touch now only making you itchy, and you pull from his embrace so that his arms unravel and his jacket slides off your shoulders. The cooler air is freezing this time against your skin. “Come help me with the fireworks, would you?”

You don’t pay attention to his response, because you’re already up on your feet and making your way inside the house. Your body floods with the embarrassment and shame of being caught by your family…kissing a man that you’ve just met. You know you shouldn’t care…but it’s so easy for their behavior to rub off on you when you feel vulnerable.

***

Thankfully, no one is in the kitchen when you finally make it inside. The music dulls down when you close the backyard door and the ringing in your ears is now silent.

You resolve to stay inside until the fireworks go off. No one is really paying attention to you anyway—most of them are drunk, others too absorbed in the music and gossip so it’s a perfect chance for you to duck away and show your face again next year.

Should you tell Toji goodbye?

No.

No, you hardly know the man. Just a few hours in good company and a kiss that almost happened that you probably would have let escalate. You probably would have let his tongue slide into your mouth. Probably would have let him pull you into one of the spare rooms, eat you out until you’re seeing stars, and then bend you over the edge of the bed to fuck you until he—

For fuck’s sake.

You yank open one of the kitchen cabinets in search of a glass. You need water because your body is piping hot. There’s a sheen of sweat on your neck beneath the layer of braids that fell when Toji laid his cheek on your head, and your hands are slick as they press into the counter to give you strength to peek into one of the lower shelves. Of course, the only one in the cabinet would be on the highest shelf. Of course, you’re too fucking short.

You climb onto the counter, knees digging into the off-white surface as you lift yourself up and peer into one of the higher shelves. You spot a glass, and you can have a heaping glass to cool yourself off enough to get you home. And then you can just use your vibrator once and go to sleep. Or twice. Or maybe a third time to get the thought of him out of your mind for the foreseeable future.

Unbeknownst to you, he’s standing behind you. You didn’t even hear the back door open and close. But you catch a glimpse of a long, muscular arm reaching past your ear to grab the glass. You’re frozen, your fingers digging into the wooden shelf, unable to turn around and face him, even though you can feel his gaze hot on your skin.

Your plan is shattered, and you have no choice but to come up with an excuse to leave him. You’re combing through scenarios in your mind as you slowly slide down and perch yourself on the countertop, finally facing him. He places the glass on the counter, away from you, and closes the distance between you until the ridges of his clothed abs brush against your knees. His hands are searing against your skin as they rest on your knees and you watch his thumbs trace an obscure pattern with a touch that is featherlight.

“Your uncle interrupted us,” Toji finally speaks, his voice carrying a hint of hopefulness despite his attempt to maintain a neutral expression. His gaze, so harsh and sharp, is alluring in its own way, tempting you to relax the steady clench of your thighs.

“It probably wasn’t a good idea anyway,” you chuckle, self-deprecation rising to the surface of your skin and prickling against the pores.

“Why not?”

Maybe because you would be too much for him and scare him away? Maybe the fear of being too demanding in bed, of not being able to stop once he kisses you, lingers in your thoughts, making the idea of having him only once and never again infuriating.

“I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want. I’ll get you water and let you sneak away when the fireworks go off because I know you want to…even though you shouldn’t give a fuck about what your family thinks…but I would really like that kiss.”

Analyzing his features, you take in the sincerity reflected in the moss-green of his eyes. It’s a last-ditch effort to make sure something else isn’t hiding there, and you find yourself coming up short.

Slowly, you part your legs for him to stand between. His hands slide up your thighs tantalizingly slow, leaving a trail of fire in their wake before pushing the fabric of your red sundress up to your waist. You try to ignore the way the cool air on your panties does little to quell the heat radiating from them. His hands wrap around your waist and a gasp heaves from your lips when he yanks you to him, your thighs brushing the sides of his thick waist.

One of the hands on your waist trails up to the side of your neck, gently tilting your head up, so you can look fully at him as his thumb traces the skin of your bottom lip.

“You better make it good,” you challenge, hoping your faux annoyance can mask the anticipation building in your gut.

He sees right through it and simply hums before he leans down to finally seal his lips against yours. He’s a big man, an overwhelming man, and you feel it in his kiss as his lips take every ounce of breath you have in your lungs. He tastes like the pound yellow cake that everyone got to before you could and a hint of beer and it’s the perfect combination that you want more of.

His hands are under your dress, brushing beneath your thighs for traction and pulling you impossibly closer to the point where you feel your clothed center brush against the zipper of his jeans. You dig your hands into the fabric of his shirt, twisting and silently commanding for him to give you more. You open your mouth to coax him and his tongue is wet and insistent against yours.

You can feel your resolve dissipating in the air, fizzling against the heat that radiates from your body and your self-control is walking on a tightrope, precariously and seconds away from falling. And once it’s gone, you’ll be a woman unhinged.

He yanks you to him again as if its not enough, harder this time with a growl in the back of his throat that makes you gasp into his mouth, then rolls his hips against yours and behind his zipper you feel him hard and bulging and angry and oh—

You pull away with a harsh breath, gasping for air and biting back a moan that gurgles in your throat when his mouth works its way down the skin of your neck. Your skin is sensitive, and it buzzes with the touch of his lips and invokes a fervent need so deep within you that you’re losing awareness of where you are. You’re lightheaded, brain in the fucking stratosphere and you have to lay down, you have to—

He’s guiding you onto your back before you can do it yourself and the cool counter is a balm against the skin of your exposed shoulders and back. He looms over you from his place between your legs, big and muscular and reeking of hunger.

“Toji,” you try to speak into the air, stifling a whimper at the sight of him stretching out your leg to rest on his shoulder.

One of his large hands caresses the canvas of your calf before you watch his lips kiss your chocolate skin. His rough scar scratches against you in the most delightful way as his mouth kisses up your calf, bends your leg to get closer, and then resumes his touch on the inside of your thigh. His face should be melting with the amount of heat emitting from between your legs, but he must relish in the burn because the second his tongue slides thick and wet against your clothed cunt, you whimper pathetically into the air.

You have just enough common sense to break from the desire to be fucked thoroughly to whisper.

“Toji, we can’t,” you swallow against the dryness in your throat. “Someone could see.”

You can feel the impatience on his body in waves but he has to listen to you. If your family were to walk in here right now to see their niece or cousin being eaten out like a gourmet meal, the Earth would swallow you whole.

“Shit,” he hisses, pulling you into his arms and carrying you out of the kitchen. You don’t care enough to tell him where to go; you’re too hot, too wet in your panties, and your need is twisting at the base of your spine in the most irritating way, begging to be soothed.

You hear the beginnings of fireworks being popped off in the backyard and your family is loud, thankfully so loud as Toji locks the door to the bathroom and drops you unceremoniously onto the counter. Though the metal of the faucet digs into the small of your back and you fall into the mirror as you clamber to get yourself in order, you can’t bring yourself to care. He’s on you again, all teeth and lips and sinful tongue in your mouth with equally sinful hands digging impatiently into the sides of your panties.

“Take them off,” you demand, practically whining and in less than a second you can only get one leg out before he’s sinking to his knees, eyes wild and shoulders heaving with untamed breaths.

“God, you’re so fucking wet. So damn pretty,” he whispers in reverence, throwing your legs over his shoulders, and the compliment makes your cunt throb in anticipation.

You can’t be sure if he’s talking to you or himself. Before you can breathe to calm yourself, it’s catching in your throat, hitching against a moan as his tongue licks a long wet stripe up the slit of your dripping cunt. His tongue parts your folds as if it’s the sea, savoring your essence and then sucking your clit into his mouth like it’s the cherry on top and you love it, whine at the feel, eyes crossing and rolling into the back of your head at the exquisite feeling.

He pulls away for a moment, taking a deep breath as if to regain control, and kisses the inside of your thigh before sliding two fingers up your dripping center, collecting your slick before beginning to rub circles on your clit. He’s mesmerized, and you take a moment to marvel at just how little of his green eyes are visible to you, his pupils are dilated with hunger and focused on the way your cunt moves with his fingers.

“Your bitch of an ex ever eat you out?”

You really don’t want to think about him right now, and you also don’t like the thought of someone feeling like they need to prove themselves to you.

But there’s a big man between your thighs who wants to unwrap you like candy. So you shrug, panting softly as you speak, “Every now and then.”

Toji scoffs, eyes seeming to darken like a forest at night.

“Every now and then,” he parrots, voice incredulous as if he’s heard the most insane thing ever, like he can’t believe it.

He increases the pressure on your clit harshly, causing you to buck against him, yelping in satisfied shock when he flicks your sensitive bud hard with his tongue.

“I’ll make you feel good, princess. Don’t you worry.”

The nickname doesn’t have the effect as before. No, this time you moan in response, your guts churning with satisfaction at the prospect of being worshiped.

Slowly the two fingers on your clit slide into you, testing the waters, gauging if you’re okay, and your jaw slackens at the feel of the stretch. Fingering is an art, an act that requires patience and skill. You have to know the right pace, when to curl, how to know a woman’s body to determine what she wants. It’s glorious when it’s done right.

And god, does Toji do it right.

He’s thorough and fluid in his strokes, using the tempo of your moans to curl at just the right time and sucking and licking your clit like he’s ravenous and your head is falling back into the space between your shoulder blades, eyes wide with disbelief as you stare at the ceiling.

The fireworks are consistent outside, popping off every second and it’s loud enough that you have the courage to voice how Toji is making you feel.

“Every now and then,” he hisses again to himself, angry and curling his fingers a little harder. You jerk against him, whimpering like a fool when you feel his tongue flick your clit harder as a reward. “He’s so fucking stupid. You taste so good, it’s unbelievable.”

He’s curling more now, brushing against that spongy wall that zings heat to your belly. Your insides churn, a molten heat popping to splatter against the base of your spine, pleasure coaxing you to reach that precipice that will let you fall apart.

Vaguely you hear him whispering words into the skin of your thighs that you can’t decipher, the thrumming in your ears too loud to hear anything else beyond the fireworks outside, your escalating moans, and the obscene sounds of him slurping you up. The muscles in your thighs begin to tighten, your fingers are sweaty as they slide against the cool marble of the bathroom counter, and you dig your wedges into the muscles of his back, white panties dangling off one ankle. He’s so good, so thorough and your breath is hitching, choking on a moan.

“There you go princess, cum all over my fingers. Get me nice and messy.”

His deep words are accompanied by a sharp bend of his fingers and you’re cumming with a shout, rejoicing in the hot pleasure that puddles along your bones. It’s abrupt and overwhelming, pulling a sharp current down your body that makes your back arch until it bumps into the sink behind you. He’s groaning from his place between your legs, still pumping his fingers and licking your clit to collect as much of your slick as he can.

By the time you look down at him, you’re still catching your breath, your thighs tremble from the sudden chill injected into your muscles. You catch Toji just in time to watch him begin to slip his two dripping fingers into his mouth, but you snatch his wrist, riding off the high of your orgasm to slip his digits into your mouth instead. Thin rings of green widen in surprise and you savor the way his cheeks darken as you swirl your tongue around his digits.

“You’re unreal,” he gulps when you pop his fingers out of your mouth.

You shrug, not willing to show him just how powerful you feel, and wrap your legs around his waist, panties still caught on the buckle of one of your wedges.

“I’m letting you be nice to me, remember? So what’s next?”

With a harsh pull, he stumbles closer to you, his hands slamming against the marble counter on either side of your waist. His breath hitches as you hastily undo his belt, eyes widening as he takes in the way you leer up at him.

“You got me a drink, defended my honor from my bitchy aunt, asked me about my family, ate my pussy…you wanna fuck me now?”

“I—” he starts, caught off guard by your forwardness.

“You want to bend me over this counter, make me look in the mirror while I take your cock? Smack my ass and make me beg for you to fill me up?”

“You’ve got a mouth on you,” Toji chokes on a nervous laugh, hissing when your fingers graze the sensitive skin above his belt.

“Is that a problem?”

The hair of his happy trail is faint and dark just like the hair on his head, and your touch makes his stomach bunch in sensation. He shakes his head in response and you want to laugh so bad at the sight of him struggling to swallow. You haven’t done anything to the man, but he’s sensitive to your touch, and that makes the blood in your veins sing.

“If you’re letting me have you, you can have it however you want.”

Arousal hums to life between your legs, and you can’t help but be turned on at how much he’s giving you. You want him now and while the prospect of being fucked over the counter was what you had hoped, if your family comes in and hears you taking it like a champ, you’ll never show your face again.

So when the door to your truck’s backseat closes, you’re climbing back on his lap, relaxing further into him with the knowledge that you can be as noisy as you want. Your uncle has a seven-month supply of fireworks and land in the middle of nowhere, Hennessey, and classics booming from his sound system… it’s going to be loud for a very long time.

You’re running on your own current of desire at this point, pawing at his shirt so he can finally yank it off his shoulders and you’re drooling. He’s glorious and you don’t hesitate to rub your hands down firm pectorals, between the abs on his torso, and along the musculature of his Adonis belt. He’s cut like a marble statue, something that takes a painstaking process to hammer and smooth over until the result is almost—

“Let me take you out,” he suddenly suggests, voice gravelly with want but insistent.

Huh?

You’re immediately puzzled, eyebrows dipping into a furrow as you try to decipher his words. His hair is wild, black strands splintering and bushy but still giving you a gateway to his eyes and you see that he’s completely serious.

“On…a date?” A lift of his thin eyebrow in reply and the reality of him actually showing interest flags dangerously against your desire to ride him into oblivion. “Just the dopamine talking, I’m sure,” you say, hoping to dismiss the idea. You hadn’t expected him to actually…want to take you out. You can’t think about that right now because your head is too thick with hunger to try and have a conversation.

He hums, low and dangerous, a hand brushing the skin above your clit and you’re reminded of just how wet you still are from his sloppy tongue minutes before.

“You’re the only one here that’s cum, princess. I’m being serious.”

“It’ll pass,” you reply immediately, licking into his mouth to shut him up.

Thankfully he doesn’t try to interject because you don’t have time to talk right now—you don’t want to. You don’t know Toji, not well enough. While tonight has been one of the most relaxed evenings you’ve spent with a man in a long time, you’re unsure if he genuinely wants you or if he’s merely carried away by the thrill of being with a woman.

He tried to come onto you the minute he laid eyes on you, tried to kiss you after a few hours, and pocketed your panties even though you pretended to be oblivious. You just don’t know. If you had a pretty girl in your lap, you would probably say the same things. Ask her on a date, make her feel wanted so she’s more giving when you slide her panties off.

It’ll pass.

And that’s what you tell yourself when you feel his large hands palm your ass beneath your sundress. You are teeth against him, nipping his tongue, biting the skin of his jaw, the meat of his neck, and the sharp groan that you pull from him in response makes you drip like a bitch in heat against his jeans.

“Take off your pants,” you whisper to him sharply, turning around and leaning over the center console to fish a condom from inside. You had discovered them months ago, and they should have been more than enough for you to dump your ex then.

“Shit,” you hear Toji hiss from behind you before your ass stings from his slap against it. You yelp, jumping from the contact and you hope he can see your cunt pulse from between your thighs in response. “Hurry up, baby.”

When you face him again, you freeze, eyes widening at the sight of his cock. As you take him in, he snatches the condom from your hand and unfurls it on his cock.

Surprisingly trimmed with dark hair, he’s thick—not enough to be painful—but enough to enjoy the stretch so you can ride him until he flatlines and enjoy the ache in your thighs in the morning. It’s perfect; pale with a red tip that leaks into the tip of the condom, a vein along the side that you can’t lick without tasting latex. It’s a shame.

He throws you that devilish smirk, eyes twinkling in pride before he taps his thigh and beckons you like the best ride at the carnival.

“Hop on, princess.”

Your fingers grip the hair at his nape when you feel him inside of you. It’s a delicious stretch that you have to breathe through, and the feel of his hands affectionately stroking your back catches you off guard. You don’t hate it; in fact, you want to lean into it, but you don’t want to give him any ammunition for something you aren’t sure about. So you slide down to the hilt and listen to Toji curse sharply through the sudden heat of you before you start a steady rhythm that throws him off.

Within seconds, you increase your pace, riding him with an intensity that makes the air in your throat catch and drag along the sides. He’s got a satisfying curve to him that grazes those magical spots within you to make the grip on his nape tighten like a vice. Your head is foggy with an overpowering mist that makes your mouth loose and your inhibitions low.

“You feel so good,” he whispers, pulling you out of the delirium you were basking in to focus on him. His jaw is relaxed, hot air puffing from between an open mouth and onto the skin of your neck, a few strands of his hair stick to his forehead and the sides of his cheeks and there’s a slight furrow to his thin eyebrows as if he’s trying to concentrate.

You’re giddy with desire. “Let me guess,” you tease, lips brushing against his. “Am I tight?”

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation, eyelids hooded and upper cheeks darkening with a blush that spreads down his neck.

“Am I nice and hot?”

“Yes, fuck yes, baby.”

It’s meant to tease, because every man that has ever slid inside of you in the past says the same shit, but to hear it from him brings a strange sense of satisfaction that you find yourself slanting your lips against his. He still tastes like the yellow cake that you never got, but the flavor is intertwined with the remnants of your essence that still lingers on his tongue that dances with yours.

You plant your knees harder into the seat on each side of him, use your muscles to bear down and give you more control, and then you roll your hips, guiding him in and out in a tantalizing dance that elicits groans from him and makes him roll his head back against the headrest.

“Let me take you out,” he gasps into the air and you refuse to answer him—you can’t. It’s harder now to believe his sincerity because he’s delirious with lust. “Answer me.”

You growl softly and yank your hands from his hair to push down the straps of your sundress. You’re not wearing a bra, and he cusses like he just stubbed his toe as he watches your breasts spill free.

“Stop talking,” you whisper and yank his head forward, beckoning him to you and he catches on quickly, licking and sucking a nipple before pulling it into his mouth. The sensation makes you shudder, a gentle pleasure that your cunt appreciates and you pick up your pace on him again. “Stop asking me. Just let me fuck you.”

He bites down in retaliation to pull a squeak from you and licks over the sting in a half-assed apology. When you look down, his gaze is illuminated by the streetlights, a harsh glare that showcases his annoyance with your deflection, but his eyes droop when you squeeze around him in response.

You’re stuffed full of him, stretching along the sides, punching the air out of your throat with each bounce on his cock and your legs begin to burn with the build-up of exertion. Your nipples are wet and sensitive against his taste buds as he teases each peak into his hot mouth and it helps to mix that pot of pleasure in your stomach to life again.

You can feel it, like a crescendo of waves crashing against a dock, but the waves are coming in quicker and more turbulent with every moan and cry that falls from your lips. You push him off of your chest, dig your fingers into his shoulders for more leverage so you can ride his cock like you have nothing left to lose.

His chest is blooming red, covered in a light sheen of sweat that dips between his pectorals and pools in his collarbones. Your bun of braids came loose when he was eating you out in the bathroom, and now some are heavy on your skin with sweat and plaster over your shoulders and between your sternum and you’re hot and sweaty and trying so hard to reign it in.

He doesn’t buck up into you and you’re unsure if it’s due to laziness or the fact that he simply wants to watch you while he brings himself closer to climax. You hope it’s the latter.

“Do you like this?” you pant into his mouth and nip his bottom lip. “You can tell me, you know. Be a good boy and tell me just how I’m making you feel.”

He groans and lands another smack to your ass that makes you gasp and arch further into him. It's the right amount of pain that makes your pussy pulse in response, the right amount of manhandling that can take you higher in a second.

“You’re a natural, princess. You ever ride him like this?”

You shake your head and he smacks your ass again, harder this time and digs his fingertips into the flesh to let the sting linger. It's so good, and you can't help the whine that you puff against his lips as he smirks up at you with a proud disposition.

“He couldn’t handle it. Probably why he cheated wasn’t it? You were too much for him. You know how you like it and he couldn’t deliver.”

You don’t answer him, but he’s right. He’s so right. He couldn’t stand it when you took control, hated when you asked him to do something that didn’t result in him being dominant, hated when he couldn’t even eat pussy without you having to ask.

The feel of his fingers on your clit makes you jump and you poke your fingers into his nape again and pick up your pace, panting and moaning like you’re running a marathon as the pleasure rocks inside of you like a pendulum.

“Oh god. Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you whisper, stomach burning.

You’re fluttering around him—pulsing and clenching and gushing over the thickest cock you’ve ever had and it’s glorious, you’re in fucking heaven.

The streetlight shines faintly into your truck, painting half of Toji’s face. He’s beautiful; that same annoying flicker of desire that captivated you when his green eyes met yours hours ago glimmers thin and dilated.

There’s a ruggedness to him that exudes masculinity, but glimpses into the depths of his eyes reveal a tender vulnerability that makes you wonder how soft he could be if he allowed you to get close enough.

The thought makes your cunt tighten around him, your thighs tense and fill with lactic acid and his fingers on your clit are unceasing, rubbing in a precise rhythm that makes you hiccup on a moan of incredulity. The hand not occupied with your clit is reclined across the headrest behind him and it makes him look unbearably sexy.

“I’ve never had a woman ride me like this,” he whispers, and you smile into his mouth, your kiss messy as you swallow down his compliment. He yanks you away and breathes that same insufferable ask against your lips.

“Let me take you out.” He rubs your clit faster, using the way you tighten around him as a guide to your pleasure, and his hand leaves the headrest to dig into the meat of your ass. “One chance. One dinner. I’ll give you what you deserve, whatever you want, princess. I promise just—”

“Stop it,” you whine and fight the burning sensation in your eyes. You’re so close, so fucking close and the storm inside of you is out of control but he won’t stop fucking talking. Won’t stop being so damn nice even though his cock is rearranging your guts in the nastiest way. You grip his hair and pull him closer to you so there’s no space between you to breathe. “Stop talking. Stop asking. Make yourself useful and make me cum.”

Thankfully he does. He scowls up at you behind the curtain of his hair but pinches your clit and you squeal, rolling your hips, riding him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. The windows have already fogged up, the truck rocks with your movements, and you are consumed with a blissful incoherence that forces you to surrender and let your walls crumble.

Your thighs burn, your dress clings to your sweaty body, and the stimulation on your clit becomes almost unbearable as you whine with the need to cum. He hisses loudly into the car, bares his teeth for a second, and then his eyes roll before he’s slack-jawed and panting into stuffy air, a current of groans beneath.

“That’s it, Toji,” you gasp, voice strained as you teeter on the brink of an orgasm that threatens to overwhelm you. “Be nice to me just like you said and give me everything like the good boy you are.”

The hand not on your clit slips against the sweat on your hips, and you lick up the side of his neck, savoring the salt taste of his perspiration on his smooth skin, just in time to hear him. It’s faint and low, practically a whisper but he chants--

‘Fuck yes, fuck yes. So fucking good. Ride me, sweetheart.’

It’s tilted in a whine, pathetically desperate, but the sound of him does the trick because the flick of his fingers on your clit makes the biggest wave of pleasure crash over you.

You don’t get the chance to tell him you’re cumming, you simply yank his head back from the sudden force, tilt your head up to the ceiling and cum with an exhausted and wrung out ‘fuck!’ that you’re sure your uncle’s neighbors will hear a mile down the road. You’re dumbfounded with pleasure, dizzy with it and your belly is hot and simmering as you gasp and whimper at just how good it feels.

He’s laying you back on the seat before you can catch your breath. You’re still coming down, still moaning to catch up but his large hands are under your knees and bending them towards your chest to chase his own orgasm. The edge of the seat digs into the crevice of your spine, and your hand flies out to smack against the back of the driver’s seat so you don’t fall but it slips with sweat, is hard to hold onto and you can hardly focus with everything that’s going on.

His mouth is on you, stealing your breath that you still can’t control, swallowing your moans as he fucks you with a ferocity that pulls your soul from your body. He pulls away with a deep moan and stares down at you with a look that makes you anxious—like he wants to see you again, like he wants to come to another cookout with your rowdy family if it means he can bother you some more—like he really likes you.

You know he’s going to try and say something that you may not be able to talk yourself out of, so you take the intense furrow in his eyebrows and the stuttering of his hips as a cue.

“You gonna cum?” you purr up at him, moaning weakly from the harsh thrusts that stroke you into overstimulation.

“Yes,” he answers without fail, eyes locked on yours. “Yes, I’m gonna cum. Fuck—”

Reaching up, you cup his cheek, unsure why but feeling an inexplicable need, and the words that fall from your lips help him across the finish line.

“Cum inside me, Toji. Take what you want and fill me up.”

His eyes widen before they roll closed and he’s slamming against you three times hard and rough before the deepest moan you’ve ever heard slips past his lips. He pants heavily stuttering tiny thrusts into you as he comes down, the tips of his hair drip a few drops of sweat onto your neck before he lowers himself to rest on top of you. He’s too big for the seat and his knee digs into the floor of the truck to maintain his balance. His hot breath washes over your neck, slowly calming down, and in your daze, you realize that you’re holding onto his shoulders.

The hard lines of Toji that you noted when you first saw him now feel gentle against you.

He rumbles your name into your neck and you’re cutting him off before the dopamine can speak for him.

“We should get back inside before someone finally notices that we’ve been gone.” He abruptly lifts to look down at you, annoyance etched on his devastatingly handsome face. He wants to argue, you can taste it, but your fear wins. “My bitchy aunt has been at me all night, the last thing I need is her snooping.”

He’s quiet still, the edge of his lips curling into a dissatisfied frown. It stretches his scar in a way that takes away from the beauty of his face. Makes him look more alien and you have to pull your gaze from him. But he doesn’t argue like you think he would. He doesn’t speak or try to talk back or voice how annoyed he is.

He slowly pulls out of you and you immediately miss the feeling, ties off the condom, and pulls you up tenderly from the seat. Your skin is sticky and the truck reeks of sex. The high has worn off and all that remains is the overwhelming unease that rises like bile in the back of your throat.

When you both are finally dressed and creeping out of the backseat, the cool air is a welcome feel to your overheated skin. It washes away your trepidation, if only for a moment. Toji looms over you, tall like a bear that you desperately want to sink your embrace back into, but he still doesn’t speak, and the crease of annoyance between his brows doesn’t leave. He should hold onto it. It will help him get over you.

“Do you mind getting my purse from inside the house? I don’t want to go back inside just yet and I need to check my phone.”

Impatience emanates from his every pore, yet you can sense his anxiety as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. But he still doesn’t fight and makes his way back inside without a word.

You lied.

Your purse is in the front seat of your car—you threw it up there when you both snuck into the vehicle in the first place, but his attention was too busy trying to feel you up than pay attention to the satchel hanging off your shoulder.

Once you see the front door close, you get into the front seat, start your car, and drive away without a second thought. Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly as the temptation to turn back tugs at you.

It may not be right to leave without saying goodbye, and lying to him has left a bitter taste in your mouth. Your family is too occupied with the fireworks and each other’s company to really notice your absence anyway, and you’re sure they’ll have no problem trying to distract Toji when he realizes that you’re gone.

The grip on the wheel doesn’t lessen, but you roll down the windows and let the evening July air wash away some of the sex that still lingers on the seats.

***

“So you did fuck him,” your cousin snickers over the speaker of your phone a week later.

It’s a Saturday night and you’re knee-deep in your wash day routine. It took you all day to take out your braids and the clear shower cap on your head traps the deep conditioner inside. You wipe away some of the excess near your ear.

You have Chinese waiting to be delivered, and you’re ready to finish your routine so you can go to bed. Your eyes are glued to your television playing some sort of nature documentary but your attention is elsewhere, specifically on trying to worm your way out of this conversation with your cousin. She’s called you every single day since the 4th and she’s done nothing but make you feel guilty about your abrupt departure.

As you expected, your family didn’t really notice your absence. But when Toji asked your cousin for your purse and then realized you had lied, he sulked in a lawn chair for the rest of the night before Shiu drove him home.

“Yes, I fucked him. So what?”

“Soooo do something about it. Fuck him again? He lives in the same city as you and is here indefinitely. Make a move—”

“It was a nice night, but he was already trying to flirt with me as soon as he saw me and I still entertained him and fucked him and—I shouldn’t have done that…I should have waited, maybe tested the waters more. He only tried to ask me out because he was horny as hell.”

She’s quiet on the other line, and you look up at the ceiling in exasperation because you can feel her annoying logic rev up before she fires away.

“So you’re just scared? Your ex cheated on you because he was a spineless pissy boy who slithered away because you didn’t take his shit. That’s not a reflection of you, at all. I know you like to have it all figured out before you make a decision, but not everything works out that way. Toji saw a fine ass black woman who talks her shit and he made a move. He’s a nice guy...a little rough around the edges, but truly…a nice guy. Someone for you.”

James Attenborough elegantly voices something about the cuttlefish on the screen while you try to contemplate what to say. She’s right. You hate that she’s right. It’s why you two are so close but still you retort in the best way you know how.

“Girl, fuck you.”

Her raucous laugh vibrates over the speaker in delight and you snort and roll your eyes when the doorbell cuts you off. The prospect of your Chinese food makes your mouth water and you’re rushing to the door.

Only it’s not your Chinese food at the doorstep, it’s Toji Fushiguro. Toji Fushiguro who is protected from the rain under the overhang of your apartment door with one hand in the pocket of his jacket and the other clutching a container. The annoyed look that you last saw on his face is gone, replaced by a neutral and bored look that seems natural for him, even though his eyes don’t convey that specific emotion. Those green eyes are reminiscent of your uncle’s well-maintained lawn as they look down at you with a nervous glint.

“Toji,” you breathe in disbelief. “How did you get my address…”

Your cousin squawks on the other line and swallows a giggle. “I’m gonna go—”

“Your cousin finally gave it to me.,” he replies simply and gestures down to the phone in your tight grip. “I’ve been trying to get it since you fucking left.”

“Damn, thanks?!” she barks at him. “Lemme get out of here, I’m getting another call anyway. Bye!”

You’re going to kill her. Slowly. Painfully and maybe in front of Shiu to get a few tears out of him if you’re feeling particularly evil.

You know she’s right about Toji, but you can’t do this. You shouldn’t have fucked him in the first place and you should have thought of a backup plan on the off chance that your cousin was going to be annoying and nosy as hell.

You ignore his intense and heavy gaze, shifting in discomfort, scratch the back of your neck, and blanch in horror when your fingers brush the edge of your shower cap. You’re wearing a large t-shirt, your feet are bare and your head is covered in a shower cap with deep conditioner leaking from the sides; a stark contrast from the calm and collected woman who snapped at him all day a week ago. Mortification washes over you in a heavy wave, drowning your mantra of not giving a fuck about a man’s opinion, and you step back to grab the door.

“Listen…I’m waiting for food and then I have to get ready for work in the morning. So you need—”

“You have time to spare then,” he cuts off and walks past you. You round on him, indignant in your gaze.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?! Get out, Toji!”

“You want me to leave? Hmm?” he asks, goading you like you don’t know if you’re sure.

You’re not sure, but—“Yes, goddammit! I shouldn’t have left but I don’t do this sort of thing! The moment you met me, you only wanted to get in my pants. And that makes you trying to ask me out while your cock is inside of me, a lot harder to believe!”

He firmly places the container in his hands on your kitchen counter, takes a deep breath to calm himself, and gives you a look that either makes you want to melt into him or slap it off his face.

“Listen—”

You’re on the defensive now, backed into a corner and ready to pull every card you have to just make him go away. “You here for a quick fuck then? Because you got me to let my guard down and because we had such a steamy time in the backseat of my truck, you thought, what? You could just show up and bend me over my couch?”

That flicker of irritation is back on his face and it crinkles the edges of his eyes, makes him look nasty and hostile.

“Fuck, will you stop—”

“Wanna have a little ‘situationship’ while you get acquainted with your new life here? Have me get nice and comfortable and as soon as I ask for something more, you’re jumping ship. Sounds like a good plan, doesn’t it?”

A sharp growl leaves his throat and he glares.

“Girl—” he starts and immediately stops, eyes wide as saucers at the venomous gaze that you shoot his way. There it is, a hint of a name to make you feel small and insignificant. It reminds you of your parents when you used to talk back and they slid the name to you in a warning to stop talking. You hate it and it stings that you have to hear it from him.

“Get out,” you bark, seething with a rage that brings a sting to your eyes.

He throws up his hands in frustration, looming like a bear from his place in your kitchen. “Will you just stop it!”

“I said—”

“Oh my fucking god—I like you!”

His admission catches you off guard, cutting through your anger, and you stare at him in astonishment. His face is red with embarrassment, eyes trained up at the ceiling as if asking the gods to give him patience. He takes a deep breath before meeting your gaze from across the kitchen.

“You don’t do this sort of thing?” he asks, gesturing between the two of you. You can’t find the words to respond, still too shocked, so you simply nod.

“What sort of thing is that? Flirting with you because you looked like the sexiest little thing in that backyard and I wanted your attention?” He’s annoyed, deep voice razor sharp as he speaks, but you don’t miss the step he takes closer to you.

“Me trying to make you feel better because your family is judgmental? Teaching me about the food you like because I’m not from here?”

He’s closer now and the air is thin again just like that night a week ago.

“Helping me win that little card game?” It’s spades, but you’re too lightheaded with how close he is to correct him. “Telling me about your family? What sort of thing is that? Hmm? Tell me.”

You don’t have a retort. You’re too stunned to speak even though you refuse to let the annoyed expression on your face vanish. You want to hold onto what little shreds of defiance you have left.

“You aren’t mean. You don’t tolerate bullshit, you don’t fuck around, and you put people in their place. You refuse to settle for less, and I already told you that’s what I like in a woman…And I like you.”

What do you even say? You never expected to see him again, and your mind is muddled as if you’re submerged in water. Your heart feels too big in your chest, your body too hot and sweaty and you’re nervous. He’s angry with his confession, almost annoyed and you’re beginning to realize that it is an emotion that’s second nature to him even if it’s not as intense as you think it is.

“Is that right?” you can’t help but test him, lifting a brow. You have to crane your neck just a little to look up at him.

He scoffs, the crease in his eyebrows smooths out and the scar on his lips twitches.

“Yea, that's fucking right. So…” he takes one more step closer and his body is brushing against yours. He smells mildly of toothpaste and bergamot from another brand of cheap cologne and the combination makes you weak in the knees. “Let me take you out.”

It’s the same demand that you’ve heard so many times now, but this time, it feels more serious, more meaningful with a hint of desperation. In the kitchen light, you can see just how silky his raven locks are and you grip your phone and the fabric of your t-shirt to resist the urge to run your hands through them.

“I’m listening,” you jest with a practiced air.

That wicked smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth, scar adding a devilish flair to his features, and your stomach burns with the realization that he’s too cocky for his own good, and you’ve unfortunately grown to like it.

“Shiu has tickets for something here called…football? He’s taking your cousin and has two extra tickets. Come with me and show me how to win.”

You can’t help the snort that leaves your mouth and your stomach flips at the genuine confusion on his face. “We don’t participate in the game. We watch it. But it’s fun.”

“All the more reason for you to come with me.”

“I…”

It’s a compelling argument, all of it is. And you want to, you really want to give this a shot and just be vulnerable for once. Because Toji seems like the kind of man who would let you be just who you are and would never make you feel lesser than about it.

The feel of his large hands cupping your cheeks pulls you out of your thoughts, and he tilts your face up to meet his gaze. His eyes are mesmerizing, like the color of pine trees right before the sun sets and you feel yourself weakening completely.

“One date, princess.”

The deep timbre of his voice does little to help you and it’s worse because it’s just how he fucking talks. You’re not a royal, and you don’t have land, lots of money, or power, but you can tolerate ‘princess’ if it’s coming from his mouth.

Just one date. You deserve it. You’ve earned the reward.

You wave away his hands from your face just so you can breathe a little easier. He chuckles but gives you your space, and makes his way to the door that you usher him towards.

“Fine. Make sure you bring cash because it’s easier at the concession stands. I want a pretzel…and a hot dog.”

He snickers as he pulls his hood over his head, obscuring most of his face except for the ethereal glow of his eyes. His teeth shine from his bright smile and you roll your eyes in response before watching him open your door.

“Toji?” you call, your voice softer…apprehensive.

He turns around to watch you shuffle to him, your feet and legs cold against the chill from the open door. You hand him your phone wordlessly and he takes the hint to insert his number. When he’s finished, you open your mouth to speak, lips shaping words that won’t come out—words you want to say. But you can’t. Not yet. Maybe one day.

For now, you throw him an annoyed eyebrow lift and grumble. “Parking is a real bitch, so pick me up early.”

You avert your gaze, frustrated at yourself for sounding so mean as usual. Because that’s just who you are. The bitter, mean—

A finger beneath your chin lifts your gaze to him and he kisses you full on the mouth, slow and reassuring, minty breath sliding into your mouth when he nips your bottom lip. The self-deprecating voice in your head finally quiets, smothered by a pillow held down by his scarred hands.

When he pulls away, that stupid smirk is on his face, but it’s not as teasing, and your heart does something weird in your chest that makes you swallow hard.

“Yes ma’am,” he replies finally to your demand.

You watch his eyes take in your form from head to toe before he kisses you quickly once more and ducks into the rain.

When you finally get your Chinese and place it on the counter to dig in, your eyes land on the container that was in Toji’s hands from earlier.

You peek inside, and your heart does that weird thing again in your chest when you see a heaping slice of the yellow cake that you never got to have a week ago.

Thanks for reading! You can find the sequel here!

582 notes · View notes

eyesthatroll · 7 months

Text

NOBODY PUTS BABY IN A CORNER!

pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader

request: could u pls write something with jack teaching the reader how to skate? maybe she’s just awful but he finds it so cute and he’s so proud when she manages to something he taught her 😭

warning(s): kissing, fluff, established relationship, barely edited (only skimmed i think twice?), ending is kind of random as i wasn’t sure how i wanted to end it !

word count: 1.6k

author’s note: to whomever requested this, i hope it is to your liking!! i think i may have changed your request a bit, but i still hope you enjoy it <33 feel free to send any requests you have, i’m finally going through them :) —mari

"Are we the only ones here?" Your voice echoes faintly in the empty expanse of the skating rink, as you and Jack stroll into the serene emptiness. One of his hands is warmly ensconced in yours, while the other deftly balances both pairs of skates, as well as a helmet wedged underneath his arm. You make an impish attempt to reach over and grab your skates, but he swiftly moves them just out of your reach.

"Wait," he warns, a mischievous smile playing on his lips as he teases you, playful anticipation radiating his aura.

Jack leads you to a seat on one of the weathered wooden benches that encircles the perimeter of the ice rink. With a graceful flourish, he drops to one knee before you, his skilled fingers deftly undoing the laces of your shoes. As he slips your skates onto your feet, his strong hands envelop your ankles, firmly but not uncomfortably, ensuring they are snugly secured. He ties your laces with ease, occasionally glancing up at you to gauge your reaction and make sure everything felt just right.

You can't contain your excitement, practically beaming with elation as you lean affectionately into Jack's shoulder, when he settles next to you to begin lacing up his own skates.

Today marked your inaugural foray into the world of ice skating. You had plenty of experience with rollerblading, and although ice skating presented a distinct challenge, being on ice rather than pavement, you held a strong confidence that not only would you adapt quickly, but you would excel at it.

Jack shifts his body to face you, his attention drawn to the hockey helmet resting on his left side. He reaches for it, intending to place it securely on your head, but your hand swiftly intercepts his, smacking it away with an assertive motion. You shake your head in disagreement, a hint of stubbornness in your expression.

"I don't need that!" You whine, and your lower lip pokes out in a pouty display of defiance.

Jack's laughter escapes in a throaty chuckle at your protests, but he ignores your whims by gently positioning the helmet on your head. With practiced ease, he tightens the bottom latch to ensure a snug and secure fit. "Better safe than sorry," he remarks with a playful grin, his actions reflecting a caring concern for your well-being.

Something about witnessing you in his element, swathed in his oversized sweater and donning his helmet adorned with the number 86 on the front, ignited a fresh wave of desire within Jack. It was as if this very moment was tailor-made to rekindle his love for you, to remind him of the innate perfection of your relationship. The idea of teaching you to skate at a local rink in Michigan, so close to your shared hometowns, felt like a picture-perfect scenario, filled with nostalgia and an honest promise of new memories.

Rising to his feet, Jack extends his arm toward you, and you eagerly seize his hand. As you arrive at your feet, the transition happens a bit too quickly, causing your legs to wobble within the confines of the skates. This sudden imbalance leads you to stumble, and you instinctively brace yourself against the reassuring solidity of the wooden bench. Jack can’t help but burst into laughter at your momentary mishap, his head shaking in amusement at your initial stumble, marking it as the first of many moments to come on this eventful day.

Approaching you with an amused smile, Jack uses both of his hands to assist you back onto your feet. Once you are standing again, he casually drapes an arm over your shoulder, drawing you closer. Together, the two of you take tentative steps onto the ice's smooth expanse. "C'mon, sweet girl," he encourages, "we've only got an hour."

As you cautiously glide along the ice in your skates, it becomes abundantly clear within moments that this endeavor was going to be exponentially more challenging than roller skating had ever been. The initial confidence you had regarding ice skating had quickly dissipated, replaced by a sense of unease and uncertainty.

"Don't let go." You caution, still taking a provisionary moment to acclimate to the unfamiliar terrain beneath your skates.

Jack flashes a reassuring smile, his grip on your hands unwavering as he essentially guides you around the rink. "It's just like riding a bike."

You cast him an incredulous glance, and his expression turns momentarily blank. "You do know how to ride a bike, right?" he asks.

Smacking him on the shoulder, you shake your head, a slight grin breaking across your lips. "Of course I know how to ride a bike, Jack. It's just a bad analogy," you quip, punctuating your words with a playful eye roll.

It's a few more minutes of the two of you gliding around the ice, Jack remaining vigilant, ensuring you don't lose your balance, before a progressive, newfound sense of confidence wells up within you, allowing you to feel secure enough to venture out of his protective embrace. "I'm ready to go solo now," you declare.

Jack slows to a halt, his hands gently releasing yours. Hesitantly, your legs propel you forward, gliding across the ice with increasing assurance. Your hands extend out in front of you as you gradually pick up speed, and with infectious enthusiasm, you call out to your boyfriend, "Jack, look! Look at me!"

He breaks into laughter, a heartfelt and infectious sound that reverberates from deep within his belly. "That's my girl!" he cheers, his eyes filled with pride and adoration as he watches you on the ice.

"This is so ea—" You start to twist around to glance back at him, your excitement almost tangible, but as you make an attempt to turn, your skates get tangled, and you comedically tumble onto the ice with a resounding thud.

Jack gasps, his face a mask of shock that valiantly tries to suppress another bout of laughter. Quickly, he glides over to you, bending down to offer his hand to help you up. "Are you okay?"

You don't intend to turn this humorous moment into something more profound, but as you stand in Jack's warm embrace, gazing up at the joyful grin on his face and the rosy flush in his cheeks from the chilly air, you can't help but feel a rush of emotion. "I'm really happy to be here with you," you admit, sincerely.

After your slight mishap, you and Jack continue to glide across the ice, enjoying the remainder of your time together. Laughter fills the air as you goof off, and you manage to keep your balance, thankfully avoiding any more falls. However, as the clock ticks down to the last ten minutes, you skate over to Jack with a hopeful expression. "Can we please try the jump from Dirty Dancing?"

It's Jack's turn to shoot you an incredulous look. "That seems dangerous."

"You don't feel comfortable lifting me on the ice?" An exaggerated frown graces your lips.

"I do, but I'm not entirely sure you'll be able to skate over to me and jump." He's teasing now, subtly mentioning your last fall without mentioning it.

You gracefully fold your arms like a ballerina twirling in her ballet shoes, effortlessly gliding in a small circle. "See? I've improved. Can we please give it a try?"

Jack stares at your pleading expression, shaking his head in surrender.

"Okay fine, but if this goes south, and you injure me, then the entire state of New Jersey will have your head."

You skate to the opposite end of the rink as him. "What about me, huh? What if I get injured?"

"This was your idea!" You can't help but laugh at his statement, unable to control your amusement.

"Okay, on three," you initiate a countdown, your voice laced with anticipation. As each number passes, your excitement builds, and when you reach one, you explode into a spirited sprint toward the opposite end of the ice rink. Jack stands there, prepared and determined, waiting for your arrival.

You launch yourself into a full-fledged jump, the cold air whipping past you as your body takes flight. Jack effortlessly catches you, his strong hands securely gripping your waist as he attempts to lift you over his head. However, a sudden wave of nervousness washes over you, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist as best you can with your skates on, drawing yourself closer to him.

Jack's lips curl into a smile as he playfully questions, "What was that?"

You confess with a hint of embarrassment, "I got scared." And despite your initial hesitation, being in Jack's arms makes you feel safe and exhilarated all at once.

Jack's lips find yours almost instantly, and as they meld together, it feels as if your mouths were designed to fit together seamlessly. Your fingers delicately tug at his hair, provoking a soft gasp that grants your tongue access to his mouth. Your tongues engage in a sensuous dance, their movements intricate and synchronized, creating a passionate connection that's almost like a meticulously woven tapestry of desire and longing.

Jack withdraws from your lips, his forehead coming to rest against yours as you both gasp for breath. "I'm so obsessed with you," he confesses, his words laden with desire.

Arching an eyebrow, you tease, "I'm telling the boys you said that so they can make fun of you."

He buries his head in the crook of your neck, a deep groan escaping his lips. "Please don't."

#jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes fic #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fanfiction

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dailyreverie · 7 months

Text

Keep me warm

@flufftober - Day 12 Fire & ice

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 861

CW: Angst due to mentions of Bucky's past

Flufftober masterlist

If there was anything that you hated, was the thought of Bucky facing the cold. You knew how he played it off every time, always saying you are overreacting, but you knew him too well to know that his bones ached when the air got cold and that the chilly air against his face triggered memories he so desperately had tried to bury.

His mission had run longer than expected, he was supposed to be back hours ago and the temperature was dropping quickly, his phone was probably dead since he hadn’t made contact with you and you could only hope he was already on his way back - he had to be. Still, his unknown whereabouts were making you bite your nails as your gaze flickered from the TV to the door as your patience began to get thinner with every passing minute.

When the door unlocked and you got so much of a peak of his boots, you ran to him and dragged him inside, pulling him in a tight embrace where you felt the tension that had frozen his shoulders begin to disappear. “Hello to you too.” Bucky chuckled, watching you remove his gloves. His skin felt like ice, like the frost of a glass right before the liquid turned solid, like pressing your hands against a window when its cold outside.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Bucky said when you remained silent.

“That you are cold, that’s what I’m thinking.” You stayed firm, because you knew the minute you wavered around him, he would dismiss his own well-being. With his hand in yours you dragged him to the couch, maybe you didn’t have a fireplace but the nearby candles would have to work to warm him up.

“I’m oka-”

“Don’t say you are okay, I can feel you shaking.” You warned, looking into his eyes again. That’s when Bucky saw the concern. As you dragged candles close to his hands and rubbed his flesh hand in between yours, Bucky studied your caring moves that tried to bring some warmth back to him.

“Doll,” Bucky searched for your eyes, tipping his head to find them as they were busy looking at your hands. He called your name, and when you dropped his hands softly on the couch and averted your gaze to the side, he knew there was more to it. “Talk to me, please.” He urged.

“It’s ridiculous.” Your voice cracked.

“It’s not ridiculous if you are concerned about it.” He didn’t want to push you, but seeing you in such distress was making his stomach turn with worry.

“I just- I hate the idea of you being cold.” You confessed, your fingers fidgeting with each other as you did. “You were cold for a while.” Your voice was softer, not knowing Bucky’s reaction to your confession.

“I was cold for a while, baby. But not anymore, I promise.” His thumb tilted your chin up, the sadness in your eyes unexpectedly making him smile in pure adoration to you.

“I’ve seen you shaking at night when it gets cold, and the way your shoulder hurts too.” You tried pushing him away, suddenly feeling self-aware of the situation you had dragged yourself to.

“Oh, doll.” Bucky whispered, his heart filling with warmth when he saw where your anguish was coming from.

“I told you it was ridiculous.”

“Look at me,” You did as he said, reluctantly so. When you met his eyes you couldn’t stop your hands from cupping his face; your touch felt like fire, not the kind that burns you, but the kind that warms the wood on a fireplace and keeps a home cozy, the kind that ignites a fire inside Bucky every time he realizes time and time again how much you love him.

Turning his head sideways he kissed the palm of your hand, not breaking eye contact with you. “It’s true that I hate the cold, I’ve always hated it, but what you are saying is far from ridiculous.”

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin, and the affection in his eyes never left. He lingered like that for a second, holding the space between you for a couple of seconds. “No one had cared for me the way you do, baby. You keep me warm, and every day you help me feel a little bit less cold than the last.”

You felt your heart swell with love for the man before you. The candles flickered, casting warm, dancing shadows against his soft skin and around the room that now smelled like cinnamon and sugar.

He pressed his lips to yours, your fingertips traveling around his neck to keep him there, close to you with a kiss filled with gratitude and love; as your lips met his, you realized that this warmth, this love, was all you needed to banish the cold that had haunted Bucky for so long. You got lost in the kiss as it proved to make you both warm, Bucky taking no time to pull you under him to deepen the kiss, his hands exploring your body seeking the heat of your skin next to his.

🦾🍂🦾🍂🦾🍂🦾🍂🦾🍂🦾🍂🦾🍂🦾🍂🦾🍂

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

#flufftober #flufftober2023 #day 12 #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #boyfriend!bucky #bucky barnes #soft bucky #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan #boyfriend bucky

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tainsan · 9 months

Text

misfits VI

⇥ pairing: ot8 ateez x fem! reader

⇥ warnings: nightmares, mentions of suicide, death, anxiety attacks, and violent language.

⇥ word count: 7.4k

⇥ a/n: I got back from vacation so I am very excited to release this chapter! thank you to all of you who have waited patiently for this one <3 I must say that in this chapter there are some very triggering moments, so please read at your own risk. your mental health is more important, please stay safe.

⇢ masterlist ⇠

previous chapter ⇠ ⇢ next chapter...

for my love @l0vetiny

--- THIS IS AN 18+ FANFICTION MINORS DO NOT INTERACT---

Wandering through the dimly lit and eerily quiet hallway, a shiver runs down your spine, goosebumps prickling on your skin. The air feels heavy with memories, and the flickering lights cast eerie shadows on the walls, heightening the sense of unease that settles deep within you.

Continuing forward, the surroundings seem to shift and morph before your eyes. The hallway transforms, becoming all too familiar. The walls close in, and the once-empty space becomes filled with echoes of laughter, tears, and whispers from the past. It's as if the memories have taken on a tangible form, enveloping you in their grip.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you struggle to make sense of the chaotic rush of emotions flooding your mind. The fragments of memories flash before your eyes, disjointed and broken, yet each one carries a weight that tugs at your soul. Images and sensations from the past come rushing back, haunting you with their vividness and intensity. You need to get out of here, now.

The hallway itself becomes a portal to the past, transporting you back to the house that holds both cherished moments and haunting secrets. The familiar decor, the creaking floorboards, the scent of recognizable perfume lingering in the air; all of it contributes to the overwhelming flood of emotions that threaten to destroy you.

Fear grips you, urging you to flee, to escape the clutches of this haunting place. Every fibre of your being screams at you to turn back, to run as fast as you can, and leave this darkness behind. But despite your desperate attempts to resist, your body seems to move of its own accord, almost as if it's being drawn deeper into the depths of the memories that refuse to be forgotten. The journey through this haunting corridor forces you to confront the ghosts of your past, to face the demons that have haunted you for years.

‘Stop, what are you doing’ Your protests fade away as you persist to walk more into the house, you recognise your steps and when you reach a certain door, your heart stops, your entire body going ice cold as you realise, you’re not here, you’re just reliving a memory. A memory you’ve been desperately running from for years.

Every nerve in your being ignites with fear, your body on fire as you desperately try to turn away. The overwhelming surge of emotions becomes unbearable, your eyes stinging and your heart racing. Trembling and filled with panic, you long to escape the haunting corridor that threatens to eat you alive. The weight of the moment hangs heavy, as you gather your strength and resolve to confront the darkness.

Watching as your hand reaches for the handle to the wooden door, you feel your entire body shaking as you still shriek in your mind to take you out of this nightmare. You pray, to anyone and anything that you will be torn away from this horrific place.

As the door creaks open, a suffocating wave of devastation washes over you, threatening to shatter the fragile pieces of your already broken soul. The sight that greets your eyes is agonizing. The lifeless body, once vibrant and full of life, now splayed across the cold, unforgiving floor. The weight of grief settles heavily upon your chest, constricting your breath and causing your heart to ache with searing pain. The scene is scattered by empty medicine capsules spread across the dark wood surface, silent witnesses to the desperation that consumed your mother's final moments. Every inch of your being yearns to rush towards her, to reach out and somehow reverse the irreversible, but an invisible force keeps you rooted in place, a helpless spectator to this heart-wrenching tragedy.

Time seems to warp and bend as you remain frozen, trapped in the nightmare that plays out before your eyes. The desire to touch her, to hold her once more, is an unbearable ache coursing through your veins. But before your trembling fingers can graze her lifeless form, the cruel grip of reality tears you away from the harrowing scene, your anguished scream echoing through the air, a desperate plea to escape the horrors that haunt your waking moments.

Your body jolts upright, propelled by an overwhelming surge of adrenaline. Gasping for air, each breath feels jagged and strained, a desperate attempt to fill your lungs with oxygen. The taste of salt lingers on your lips as hot tears stream down your cheeks, tracing a path of agony. Your entire being quivers with a raw intensity, as if electricity courses through your veins, setting your nerves ablaze. The need for escape overwhelms you, urging you to flee the confines of your bedroom. Hastily, you propel yourself forward, your steps hurried and unsteady, driven by a desperate desire for fresh air. The world blurs around you as your feet propel you towards the door, craving the relief that lies beyond it.

Disregarding your appearance, clothed in nothing but your sleeping shorts and an oversized t-shirt, you stumble through the house in a frantic haze. The urgency to escape grips you aggressively, destroying any concern for disturbing your roommates in your wake. Each footstep is irregular, pushed by an overwhelming need to escape from the suffocating hold of your mind.

The memory hooks into your brain, a relentless torment that attempts to consume you once more. Despite your relentless efforts to suppress it, the nightmare persists, resurfacing with a haunting insistence. Weeks, months, and years of painstakingly building a fortress of forgetfulness crumble before your eyes. The memory's grip tightens, triggering a heavy downpour of emotions, drowning your fragile stability.

Your legs tremble beneath you, weakened by the weight of the anguish you bear. Progress towards the door is a gruelling endeavour, each step a battle against the trembling weakness that permeates your being. But before you can reach the refuge of the exit, your body resists, collapsing onto the floor of the hallway. Your tears constantly flow, soaking your trembling hands as your shattered being struggles to comprehend the crushing wave of emotions that consume you. Time becomes distorted, seconds stretching into agonizing hours as you surrender to the merciless grip of your despair.

In a state of panic, your senses spin and blur, disorienting your vision as you struggle to fixate on the door just a few meters away. Yet, the world seems to be against you, distorting and contorting, morphing the once familiar threshold into an obscure target that mocks your desperate reach. The room, once spacious, now closes in around you, suffocating you in its overwhelming grip.

Desperation grips your throat, and you gather every ounce of strength to scream for help, to summon anyone who might ease your torment. But the sound that emerges is weak, a mere particle of a whisper lost in the turbulent commotion of your mind.

As the world blurs and fades, your senses dulled by the overwhelming surge of anxiety, you remain oblivious to the sudden presence at your side. It is only when strong arms envelop your trembling frame, engulfing you in a secure embrace, that you become aware of another person by your side.

The comforting presence guides you gently, repositioning your body between their legs, offering a supportive cradle. Your cheek finds solace against their chest, feeling the steady rhythm of their heartbeat against your skin. They begin to rub your back in soothing motions, tracing slow circles that provide a sense of grounding and reassurance. The legs of the protective figure form a defensive barrier around you, providing a sense of safety amid the mayhem. It is here when you can smell a vaguely familiar scent, and you cannot quite discern where you have smelt it before. It is when the figure's voice reaches your ears, and at that moment, the familiarity of the scent that fills the air clicks into place. It is the same scent that lingers on your sheets, the scent that belongs to their owner. The realization floods your senses, connecting the dots between the fragrance and the person residing near you.

“___? It’s Mingi,” the man speaks, with genuine concern etched across his face. Mingi, who is holding you tight desperately tries to redirect your focus, his intent gaze fixated on your trembling form. Mingi tries to grasp your attention, hoping to draw you away from the whirlwind of thoughts that torment your mind. In a voice laced with both urgency and tenderness, he calls out to you once more, his words filled with a mix of anxiety and aching compassion. The sound of his voice cuts through the haze that clouds your senses, breaking through the chaos and reaching for the fragile connection within you. Yet, your breaths remain erratic and unsteady, leaving their heartfelt call unanswered.

“___, listen to me, you’re okay. You are safe, come back to me. You’re safe.”

He notices your shaking slows down and he realises he’s found a small part of you holding on. Gently placing a hand on your cheek that isn’t facing him, he pulls you further into his chest, resting your ear over his heart.

“Listen to my heart, just focus on the sound, okay? You’re doing so well.” The beat of his steady heart reaches your ears and your entire being grasps the sound, the calming rhythm helping still the rising storm swirling inside of you.

Mingi's arms envelop your trembling frame, providing a secure embrace that anchors you during the cyclone of emotions. He holds you tenderly, swaying gently back and forth as if trying to lull away the distress that weighs heavily on you. Amidst the madness of your inner instability, you suddenly become aware of a soft melody coming from Mingi's lips. The song is unfamiliar, yet its delicate notes and the resonance of his baritone voice manage to soothe your soul. The vibrations of his singing gently slice through the tight knots of anxiety constricting your throat, gradually easing their grip on you. Time seems to blur as the minutes tick by, the sound of his voice providing a lifeline of stability. As the minutes stretch into what feels like hours, you gradually regain control of your breath, your inhales and exhales finding a steadier rhythm.

Though your tears still prick at your eyes, slipping down your cheeks occasionally, the storm within you begins to subside, leaving behind a lingering sense of vulnerability. Mingi remains devoted to your side, his comforting presence offering a glimmer of hope in the aftermath of the emotional tempest.

As the weight of your sorrow begins to ease, you can physically feel Mingi's body relaxing against yours, his tense muscles gradually unwinding like a tightly coiled spring. It's as if his form moulds effortlessly to fit against your side, providing a comforting embrace that shields you from your feelings raging within.

The warmth of Mingi's breath, steady and soothing, gently caresses the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in its wake. Each deliberate inhale and exhale serves as a grounding rhythm, anchoring him in the present moment.

As you begin to stir, indicating your readiness to move, a subtle shift in Mingi's demeanour becomes evident. His heightened awareness brings him to become conscious of the intimate position the two of you find yourselves in. With utmost caution and respect, he lifts his head ever so slowly, ensuring no sudden movements that could potentially trigger any lingering distress within you. While he subtly withdraws from the immediate proximity, his arm remains lightly draped around your waist, offering a gentle source of reassurance and support.

Turning your head at a slow pace, your gaze aligns with Mingi's, and in that fleeting moment, a pang of guilt tugs at your heart. The weight of your emotions mingles with the realization that he has been a steadfast presence throughout, a pillar of strength and compassion, offering unwavering support and comfort in your most vulnerable moments. The gratitude you feel is profound, yet so too is the underlying concern that you may be burdening him with your troubles.

“I’m so sorry Mingi, did I wake you up?” You look away from him, your body starting to shake with faint embarrassment. Noticing how fragile your emotions are right now, he is quick to comfort you and put your mind at ease.

“You didn’t don’t worry; I was in the living room when I thought I heard a scream,” Mingi responds, his hand unconsciously moving up and down your back again.

“What are you doing up so late?” You ask, confused as to why any of the boys would be awake this late. It must be past three or four in the morning.

“I got a burst of creativity, it’s hard to sleep if I don’t get it all out.” Mingi looks down, looking somewhat flustered. Looking up, he sees the confusion covering your features. “I was writing some kind of song thing.”

Your eyes widen as you realise what he meant, and you become ever so curious about his creativity.

“I didn’t know you wrote songs,” your voice is soft yet the glimpse of admiration in your tone is picked up by Mingi and he can’t help but smile and feel the heat rise to his cheeks.

“It’s kind of what I’m studying, writing songs is my thing,” Mingi grins as he teases you slightly for not knowing his major.

“Really? Maybe I should actually get to know you guys better,” You mumble to yourself wiping away your stray tears, once again not knowing something that is common knowledge to everyone.

“What has you so shaken up?” Mingi’s voice is so soft you wouldn’t have heard him if he wasn’t right next to you.

Mingi observes your reluctance to discuss the terrifying nightmare that just unfolded, and he instinctively knows that pushing you to open up would do more harm than good. Understanding the rawness of the images still haunting your mind, he respects your need for time and space. As your body continues to tremble with residual fear, Mingi quietly rises to his feet, bringing you up with him, his arm securely wrapped around your waist. He can feel your unsteady steps, and a protective instinct kicks in. Pausing for a moment, he contemplates the best course of action, realizing that ensuring your safety and comfort is his top priority.

“I am going to lift you to your room, is that okay?” Mingi questions, his eyes not leaving yours.

As the realization dawns upon you that Mingi's intention is solely to offer his support and assistance, your initial hesitation begins to dissipate. Blushing with a mix of gratitude and self-consciousness, you understand that your vulnerability at this moment demands you to accept his help. Although the idea of relying on someone else makes you slightly uncomfortable, you recognize that your current state leaves you incapable of aiding yourself.

Suppressing your embarrassment, you offer Mingi a shy nod, silently conveying your permission for him to assist you further. Mingi bends down to snake one of his arms under your legs and one around your back. Lifting your body into bridal style, Mingi holds you close to his chest, almost cradling your limp body. As Mingi supports you in his arms, a surge of emotions sweeps through him, overwhelming his senses. The weight of your body against his chest creates an intimate connection that he has longed for but never imagined would happen under these circumstances. He feels a sense of bliss as if time has momentarily paused to grant him this precious moment. The touch of your skin against his, the rise and fall of your breath against his chest, all serve as a bittersweet reminder of the vulnerability and trust you have placed in him.

His grip tightens ever so slightly, instinctively wanting to shield you from any harm or discomfort that may still linger within your fragile state. Mingi's heart swells with a mix of tenderness and protectiveness, a deep sense of responsibility to provide comfort and reassurance.

Resting your head against Mingi’s broad shoulder, you close your eyes, recognising the route of the man heading towards your room. Luckily, during your expedition to leave the house, you left the door of your bedroom open slightly, allowing Mingi to easily push it open with his back and walk towards your dishevelled bed. It is here where Mingi realises you must have had a nightmare; a soft concern lingers in his eyes. He knows that words alone may not be enough to ease the lingering distress from your nightmare. Although he knows not to pry, he wishes you would tell him the details of your bad dream, so he can offer support in the knowledge that you are safe in his presence and that of his brothers.

With a soft smile, Mingi pauses in his steps, his hand resting on the doorknob. He turns around, his eyes meeting yours, and he immediately understands your silent plea.

“Don’t worry, love, I’ll be right back. Give me a second.” Mingi reassures you before leaving out the door at a fast pace. If you weren’t so shaken up and exhausted the nickname would have processed in your mind completely differently to how it does at this moment.

It takes about twenty seconds for Mingi to return to your bedroom, this time in his hand he has his phone and a pair of wired headphones. You aren’t able to do anything but lay tucked in your sheets, you result to just watching him as he comes closer to the edge of your bed.

Without hesitation, he moves back towards your bed, taking a seat on the floor, in front of you. He reaches out and gently brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch tender and comforting. Mingi's presence alone brings a sense of security, and you feel a wave of relief wash over you. You're grateful for his understanding and willingness to provide the comfort you so desperately need at this moment.

Mingi looks up at you and smiles warmly, causing the sharp edge of your nerves to soften. With his face only a few inches away from yours, your heartbeat increases but this time it’s not due to a damaging emotion. Resting his hand on your head, he tenderly strokes your unkempt hair from your face before retracting and placing it back on his lap, much to your dismay.

“Would you like to hear one of my projects?” Mingi’s voice is barely above a whisper.

Exhausted and unable to muster coherent words, you offer a nod, signalling your readiness to delve into the unknown world of Mingi's music. A smile dances across his face as he places one headphone in your ear and the other in his, creating a shared soundscape that bridges the gap between you. With anticipation, you watch as Mingi skilfully navigates his playlist, his fingers gliding over the screen in search of the perfect track.

Untitled songs and cryptic titles catch your eye, piquing your curiosity about the untold stories behind them. As he presses play, a gentle beat emanates from the earphone, gradually filling the space around you. The strumming of a guitar resonates through the air, accompanied by an evolving symphony of instruments, and sounds that seamlessly intertwine. Mingi's deep voice emerges, rapping softly with a tone and tempo that seems tailor-made for your ears. It's a mesmerizing blend that tickles a part of your brain. The lyrics, though tinged with sorrow, embrace your spirit, offering a comforting hold that lets you know you are heard and seen.

As the music envelopes you, the weight of exhaustion appears, causing your eyelids to grow heavy. Your body surrenders to the soothing soundscape, and relaxation invades every inch of your being. Drifting into a peaceful slumber, you feel a sense of serenity wash over you. Just as you slip into the realm of dreams, a familiar resonance catches your ear, triggering goosebumps that ripple across your skin.

A particular lyric rises from the music, echoing deeply within you. Its significance is palpable, evoking emotions that are difficult to put into words. In this ethereal moment, the power of music intertwines with your being, leaving an indelible mark on your soul.

‘Passion, young, fever.’

There’s no way you heard that right. Right?

---

Excitement bubbles within you as you make your way towards the kitchen, fully expecting to find Hongjoong waiting for you there. Several days ago, he had kindly offered to accompany you to the bustling department store in the city, assisting you in finding new items to decorate your room with. It is a leisurely Saturday, devoid of any pressing lessons or assignments, you relish in the prospect of a full day dedicated to exploring and shopping. Your intentions extend beyond room decor, as you've also set your sights on replenishing your wardrobe. The few outfits you currently possess, remnants of what survived the fire, have become repetitive and mundane. You feel it's time for a refreshing upgrade. Originally, you had planned to limit your purchases to decorative items and undergarments, the latter of which you're determined to buy discreetly, without Hongjoong's presence. If necessary, you'll insist that he waits outside the store, ensuring your privacy.

The unexpected windfall of funds, received as compensation from your previous landlords for the damages incurred during the fire, has granted you a sense of financial freedom. The amount exceeded your initial expectations, as you had prepared yourself for the daunting task of covering expenses such as finding a new place to live, purchasing furniture, and replacing schoolbooks. Fortunately, the boys had already taken care of these necessities, ensuring a smooth transition when you moved in with them.

As you enter the kitchen, you find Hongjoong seated at the table, engaged in conversation with Jongho and Mingi, the latter with his back turned towards you. Instantly, memories from the previous week flood your mind, causing a sudden wave of flustered emotions. You feel unsure about how to approach and express gratitude to Mingi for his assistance during your anxiety attack. Ignoring the situation is not an option, as it would be unfair to dismiss his support. However, you hesitate, dreading the possibility of him inquiring about the cause of your distress, as it would require delving into your deep history of trauma.

Upon waking up that morning, you noticed Mingi's absence, briefly wondering if the entire incident had been a vivid dream. The sight of a slightly dishevelled pillow on the floor, evidence of someone's presence, reassures you that it did happen. You hope Mingi didn't spend too much time awake, as you also wished for him to get some rest. Another lingering thought occupying your mind is the song Mingi played for you a few days ago. Although it sounded unfamiliar, there was an uncanny familiarity in the lyrics that troubled you. You briefly entertained a theory of where you might have heard it before, but the thought swiftly slipped away, dismissed as a mere coincidence that didn't quite add up, it could not be them.

Since then, you've intentionally started leaving the house earlier, trying to avoid Mingi's presence, only interacting with him during dinner time. He is well aware of your embarrassment, yet it doesn't diminish his disappointment at the fact that you've been actively avoiding him.

As you draw nearer to the kitchen, you realize that the conversation among the three men is unusually deep, and intense. Hongjoong's furrowed brow and hushed tone suggest a level of seriousness they wish to keep private. Not wanting to interrupt their discussion, you take a step back, planning to return in a few minutes. Despite their efforts to keep their voices low, you manage to catch snippets of their conversation, and the few words you hear leave you slightly alarmed.

“I don’t think she needs to know so soon,” Jongho says.

You halt in your tracks, confused. Are they talking about you?

“I think she does, I can’t hide it from her much longer.” Mingi’s deep voice is recognisable.

“When should we ask her…”

“It just depends on the timing okay; we will let her know the proposition when necessary.”

Reluctant to continue eavesdropping, you scold yourself for unintentionally intruding on their private conversation. A wave of guilt washes over you, as you recognize that listening in on their discussion is unfair to their trust. However, curiosity chews at you, urging you to find out what they could be talking about. If the conversation revolves around you, what proposition or topic could they be considering? Should you step out from behind the corner and confront them? You know it would be the right thing to do, respecting their privacy, but an inexplicable force seems to hold you back, trapping you in your position. The desire to satisfy your curiosity becomes overwhelming, rendering you unable to move or tear yourself away from their secretive conversation.

“Why are you standing here?” A voice sounds from behind you, startling you immensely. Letting out a sound of surprise, you quickly cover your mouth in hopes that the three men at the kitchen island didn’t hear you.

As you turn around, your eyes lock on Seonghwa, leaning casually against the doorframe of his bedroom. A mischievous grin adorns his face, and you can't help but be captivated by his presence. Dressed in simple, yet stylish, black jeans and an oversized grey sweater, he exudes an effortless charm that makes it difficult to divert your gaze. Your eyes wander up and down his figure, unable to resist the appeal he radiates. A surge of pride fills Seonghwa's chest as he observes your admiration. He takes confident strides towards you, closing the distance until he stands a mere foot away. Bending down to meet your eye level, his face hovers just inches from yours. Your mind races, urging your body to create some distance, but you find yourself rooted in place, unable to budge as his magnetic presence envelops you.

“Like what you see?” He questions, your heart almost jumping out of your chest.

You are surprised at his flirtatious behaviour, not quite used to it coming from Seonghwa. Only having seen him as a gentle sweetheart, seeing him act so flirty makes your heart pound dreadfully fast.

Finally, you can convince your body to move away from Seonghwa’s hard stare and into the kitchen where you almost forget the three other men. You expected to see Jongho after seeing him every morning on the island, munching on the same food as usual.

“Hey, ___, You’re up early. Are you okay?” Jongho questions, wondering why you seem so shaken up and flustered. Hoping it wasn’t due to you potentially listening into the conversation between him and his friends. When he sees Seonghwa trailing behind your tense body, a smug grin covering his face, he thinks he understands why it is you’re so frazzled.

You manage to nod at him slightly, throwing a nervous smile in his direction before heading to the fridge to grab something small to eat before your day starts.

Behind you, Jongho sends a confused look in Seonghwa’s direction, causing the older man to just shrug amusedly as he makes his way to the coffee machine at the counter.

Balancing your bowl of leftover fruit salad in one hand, you make your way towards the spacious kitchen island. The morning light spills in through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room. As you approach, you grab a fork from a nearby drawer, your familiarity with the kitchen growing with each passing day. Though you've become well-acquainted with the location of most utensils, there are still a few items that escape your memory, like the damn blender. You can't help but recall the comical scene from yesterday when you frantically searched through every cupboard in a desperate quest to find the blender. Jongho, finding amusement in your difficulty, watched with an entertained grin as you scoured the kitchen. Finally locating the appliance, you playfully shot him a glare, feigning annoyance at his refusal to help in your blender-seeking escapade.

Settling into the seat next to Mingi, you steal a glance at him, feeling a mixture of relief and guilt wash over you. His broad figure turns towards you, his lips curving into a genuine, warm smile. The sight tugs at your heartstrings. You can't help but feel apologetic for avoiding him in the past few days, but seeing his forgiving expression reassures you that he doesn't harbour any ill feelings towards you.

“How did you sleep?” Mingi asks, his voice soft and tender, his smile contagious.

“I slept pretty well,” you process the next words in your head, not sure how to say them, “Thank you Mingi.” You reply, your voice full of gratitude, the smile on Mingi’s face turns thankful as he understands the undertone of your words, knowing you weren’t just thanking him for asking how you slept, but for the help, he gave you not too long ago. Heart filling with happiness, he decides to just smile warmly at you, hoping his unsaid words speak from his expression.

Hongjoong's perceptive gaze shifts back and forth between the two of you, and he can sense the unspoken connection woven within the shared silence. A knowing smile graces his lips, recognizing the softness and affection in your eyes as they rest upon Mingi. At that moment, he envisions a future where you would gaze at him with the same tender expression, his heart warming at the mere possibility.

“What are your plans today?” Jongho’s voice breaks apart the silence, his question not specifically pointed towards anyone, yet wanting your answer the most.

“Hongjoong and I are going to the furniture store and then the shopping mall, right?” You look towards Hongjoong, silently asking him to confirm your statement.

Hongjoong nods gently at you, before taking a sip of the coffee in front of him. Smiling, you look back at Jongho and reciprocate the question, curious as to what the notorious members of Ateez get up to during the weekend.

“I’ve got some errands to run, then San and I are going to this cat café in the city,” Jongho replies, his answer shocking you. Definitely not expecting such activity from such tough presenting guys.

Seonghwa sees the shocked look on your face and lets out a small laugh before speaking, “They’ve been wanting a pet cat for ages, but Hongjoong’s mom just won’t allow it, so this is the closest they can get to having one.”

Amidst the shared laughter, you find yourself joining in as Jongho pulls off the most adorable pouty expression. The infectious joy fills the room, and even Hongjoong and Mingi can't help but chuckle at the sight. Jongho playfully directs a mocking glare towards Hongjoong, as if blaming him for the fact that he can't have a pet cat, adding a touch of playful banter to the light-hearted moment.

“Hey, don’t blame me, blame yourselves. My mom hasn’t been able to take you guys seriously after Wooyoung and San brought a raccoon home and said it was the new housemate.” Hongjoong states as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. Your mind races with a mix of shock and amusement as you try to wrap your head around the idea of them abducting a raccoon. It's a scenario that never even crossed your wildest imagination. It sparks a flow of thoughts, making you wonder about all the bizarre and hilarious situations that may have unfolded within the walls of this house. The thought of their antics and misadventures brings a smile to your face, imagining the unconventional and unpredictable moments that have likely taken place in this house.

“It was one time.” San appears from the entrance nearest to the staircase, a pout on his face.

“One time too many, I found the damn raccoon under my bed one time, I thought it was a fucking monster coming to get me,” Seonghwa adds to the conversation, causing laughter to erupt around the room.

“We are not getting a cat, San, I’m sorry,” Hongjoong states, sending an apologetic look in his direction. San crosses his arms, a pout still on his face, causing him to look awfully like a toddler being told they can’t have more candy.

“It’s okay, we have a cute kitty right here,” Jongho says smirking slightly, looking in your direction. The meaning behind his words causes a violent blush to creep up your neck, your entire body heating up.

Mingi's deep chuckle resonates in the air as he playfully pats your head, his gentle touch providing reassurance that the comment was simply a tease. However, a lingering feeling remains, suggesting that Mingi might be in on the playful banter as well. It's a strange but intriguing sensation to be flirted with by someone other than Wooyoung, and you can't help but feel a slight flutter in your heart. At the same time, the thought of all eight of them showering you with attention feels overwhelming. Your heart ponders how it would handle such affection from each of them, unsure if it could bear the weight of their collective charm.

“Okay guys, chill out,” Seonghwa speaks out laughing gently, noticing the flustered look on your features, realising the attention is making you feel slightly anxious. Nodding gently at Seonghwa as a means to thank him, he smiles lightly at you.

A symphony of hurried footsteps echoes through the house, originating from the upper floor and cascading down the staircase. As you turn your gaze towards the source of the commotion, you're met with a heartwarming sight. The three missing individuals, who had been absent from the kitchen until now, have finally made their appearance. It dawns on you that this is a rare occurrence, as it has been quite some time since everyone has been gathered in the kitchen at such an early hour.

“Joong, what did you want to talk about?” Yeosang asks as he walks into the room, not noticing you sitting at the island.

“Oh, it was nothing, forget it,” Hongjoong says, desperately attempting to keep the suspicion low, knowing Yeosang doesn’t see you sitting next to Mingi.

“It sounded pretty urgent,” Wooyoung states, following after Yeosang, yet he suddenly understands the situation when he sees you sitting watching the event unfold, with a clear confused look covering your features. The gravity of the moment becomes apparent as you realise the rarity of such a complete gathering. There must be something important unfolding, something that has brought them all together at this early hour. As Yeosang makes it to the counter, he realises you are sitting there, and his face contorts into an expression of realisation and humiliation.

“Hey, muffin.” Wooyoung manages to get out, before cursing at himself for somewhat revealing the meeting the eight were supposed to discreetly have before you awaken.

Yeosang and Yunho come into your line of sight, and you offer them a warm smile, taking a moment to observe Yunho's behaviour. Surprisingly, he returns your smile with one of his own, genuine, and soft. The exchange doesn't go unnoticed by the other members gathered around the island, and you can feel a slight commotion in your stomach as your body warms up. It's a pleasant surprise to witness Yunho's genuine smile, something you haven't seen before.

However, you soon realize that they want to discuss something in private, perhaps a topic that is better suited for their long-standing friendship. Although a bit disappointed, you understand the need for them to have their own space and conversation, possibly involving "boy stuff." Respecting their privacy, you decide to step back and give them the confidentiality they require.

“Uh…I better go brush my teeth,” you exclaim, standing up from your seat and straightening your pant legs with your hands, making up an excuse to leave.

Making your way to your bedroom, you stop when you hear Hongjoong speak to you. “Just find me when you’re ready, we can leave whenever.” Nodding your head, you smile at all of the men in the kitchen, before heading into your room to stall for as long as you need.

As the door to your room closes, an expectant silence settles among the eight of them. They exchange glances, giving each other a nod, and then the conversation begins to flow.

“You guys need to read the room better, holy shit,” Jongho says when he is sure you’re out of earshot. He doesn’t believe you would be one to eavesdrop knowing it’s an important meeting between him and his friends.

“Okay, how were we supposed to see Tiny when she was hidden behind Mingi’s big ass?” Wooyoung says rolling his eyes as he takes a seat next to where San is standing. San rests an arm around Wooyoung’s shoulders looking down at the shorter male.

“You could’ve at least waited until we were sure she wasn’t here,” San suggests softly, not wanting to annoy the man further. Wooyoung grumbles a ‘whatever’, before paying attention to what Seonghwa is saying.

“Finally decided to open up that ice-cold heart, Yuyu?” Seonghwa questions the black-haired male sitting next to him, a knowing grin plastered on his features.

“I’ll kill you, shut up.” Yunho deadpans, not even looking in his direction, wanting to ignore his friends’ questions, knowing they are curious as to why he is so tame towards you all of a sudden.

“I’m older than you, watch it,” Seonghwa states, pointing a finger in Yunho’s direction, in which Yunho makes a mocking face, sticking his tongue out at Seonghwa.

“We can talk about it another time, okay? I need you guys to focus for a second.” Hongjoong speaks up, causing the seven around him to immediately listen to his words with full concentration. “I have some bad news, but I need you guys to stay calm for me, can you do that?”

Confused looks are shared from around the room, wondering what is so serious that Hongjoong had to warn them to control their emotions. Their captain continues speaking, “I heard from Bumjoong that Ryu may be here, visiting.”

The room grows heavy with tension as the atmosphere becomes charged with anger. Harsh intakes of breath echo through the space, a collective reaction to the weight of the situation at hand.

All eyes are directed towards Yunho and Yeosang, knowing the emotional chaos they have experienced due to Ryu was severe, and understanding the deep wounds may still linger within them. The intensity of their past struggles hangs in the air, casting a shadow over the room and amplifying the gravity of the moment. The others hold their breath, silently pleading for restraint and understanding, hoping that the conversation can navigate the difficult territory without causing further pain. The shared glances exchanged among them serve as a silent reminder of the delicate balance they must maintain.

“I already knew, it’s okay,” Yunho admits, anger evident in his body yet not as bad as it would be if he had just found out. He just hopes that Yeosang will take the news well.

“How come I didn’t know about this?” Yeosang’s voice has traces of anger and sadness and Hongjoong feels bad for not telling his younger friend sooner.

“We just found out, we immediately wanted to make a meeting so you can all hear it at the same time.”

Yeosang's heart sinks as he realizes the reason he was kept in the dark about the situation, knowing he was never as close to Bumjoong as the three others. Though the knowledge stings, he finds peace in the understanding that they wanted to share the news with everyone together. The initial anger he felt towards his friends starts to fade, replaced by a subtle realization and a growing empathy. He comprehends the complexity of their decision, recognizing the intention behind it and the desire to ensure that no one was left out or burdened with the weight of the information alone.

“We don’t know if it is her, or what her intentions could be, but we don’t want to take any chances or risks.” Hongjoong pauses to take a breath, “We have to stay distant from ___, just until we know that Ryu is no longer here.”

“Distant? Why would we stay distant? We have to protect her from Ryu.” San exclaims his voice getting louder, worried at what might happen if Ryu finds out about you.

“If Ryu doesn’t know who ___ is, then there is no chance of her getting hurt,” Hongjoong states, his voice staying the same level, recognition goes around the room as they realise, he has a point.

“But what if she finds out? What happens to ___ if Ryu finds out about her?” Yeosang asks, his voice venomous, causing shivers to go down Mingi and Jongho’s spines, still not used to the harsh tone of their friend.

“Then we have to hope that she doesn’t destroy her like she did us.” Hongjoong exhales, knowing the gravity of the situation.

“Come on, Joong. The second Ryu finds out about ___, it would be over for her, the least we can do is plan for if it happens.” Mingi says, anxiety bubbling in his throat, concerned immensely for you.

“I haven’t thought of one yet, but I will, okay?” Hongjoong replies, trying his hardest to calm the men in front of him whilst also fighting his own worries deep in his mind.

“Have you even started thinking a plan through? What is she going to think when we all of a sudden start ignoring and distancing from her?” Jongho inquires, his voice almost reaching booming, his fears starting to affect him deeply.

“We don’t have to ignore her in the house. Just when outside and at school, avoid her at all costs.” Hongjoong answers, sorrowful about what has to be done. “We do that partially already. Just Mingi, you can’t walk with her to classes.”

Grumbles and complaints are through across the room in a rowdy, loud way, causing Hongjoong to again silence them.

“This is to protect her. This is not for any other reason, boys.”

“Then why are you going out with her today? You’re going against your own words, Captain.” Mingi exclaims, his anger raising slightly at the hypocrisy of his older friend.

“We made these plans before we knew Ryu was here. As much as I want to cancel and reschedule, it would make ___ question, and I want to keep her in the dark here.”

There are a few disbelieved groans and sighs thrown around as enraged stares are directed at Hongjoong.

Hongjoong’s voice booms through the kitchen, the words echoing off the wall, “Don’t you dare look at me like that. I am not using this as an excuse to ‘steal’ ___ from you. If anyone should be out with ___ when Ryu is here it should be me and you all know that damn well. Don’t turn this on me when you know it’s out of my fucking control.” Hongjoong’s voice is strong and sturdy as he speaks his part.

Murmurs of regret and remorse permeate the room, each man expressing their apologies in soft tones. Hongjoong, visibly weighed down by the news, sinks back into his chair, his frustration evident in the furrowed lines on his forehead. He wearily runs his hand through his dishevelled, dirty blonde hair, releasing a deep sigh of exasperation. The weight of the situation hangs heavily on his shoulders, causing his posture to slump. Sensing his distress, Seonghwa offers a comforting gesture, placing a reassuring hand on Hongjoong's shoulder.

“Yunho should go with you,” Yeosang says, his voice soft, quieter than it had been just a few moments ago, this statement causing confused stares to be pointed at him and the taller man.

“What, why?” Seonghwa questions, looking from Hongjoong to the platinum blonde.

“Hongjoong doesn’t know Ryu as well as Yunho and me. I have things I need to do; Yunho can go and make sure that you don’t run into her.” Yeosang explains, his voice back to a normal tone, hints of irritation still evident.

“How is he going to ensure that then?” Wooyoung's question echoes in the room, causing Yeosang to stay silent for a while.

“I will know. She hurt all of us, but I know her better than you all, there’s no chance she’s going to go to a furniture store here anyways, she always hated them.” Yunho answers for Yeosang, who gives his friend a thankful look. Yunho nods in the direction of his friend, before looking back to the six pairs of eyes scanning his every move.

“What? I’m not going to do anything to ___.” Yunho says, ignoring the way his friends send him doubtful looks, rolling his eyes, he admits, “She’s growing on me.”

---------

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hlficlibrary · 5 months

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HL Fic Library 🌲 Stuck in a Cabin Fics

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find the library's other recs here.

🌲 Snow by Septic_Styles {M, 70k}

The snow was packed high, completely covering the doorway. Louis reached out to touch it but Harry pulled his arm back in.

"What are you doing?" he hissed.

"It's snow, Harry, not some creature from Mars." Louis rolled his eyes and pressed his index finger to it. It wasn't soft, it was firm and had an almost crunchy texture like the freezing temperature had turned it into ice as the night passed on. It had been sitting there for some time. "Yeah, just as I suspected," Louis said, closing the front door.

"What?"

"We're fucked."

Louis is set to travel thirteen hours up the country to stay with his family at a holiday rental in Edinburgh for Christmas, but when he makes an overnight stop at his cabin in the woods in the Lake District, an unexpected, unlikely face - which Louis has spent all of his teenager and most of his adult years resenting - comes knocking, seeking for help.

Little did they know that the heaviest snowfall England had ever seen would snow the two foes in for a week...

🌲 To the Ends of the Earth by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci {M, 68k}

During a yearlong hiatus, Louis visits Harry at his cabin in Idaho, where long-buried feelings ignite like the fire keeping them warm.

🌲Take on Me by @haztobegood {E, 60k}

Actor Harry Styles is preparing for his next leadi ng role as Antonius the Gladiator with the help of Louis Tomlinson, Hollywood’s top stunt coordinator. When the demands of Harry’s career get in the way of their training, the pair head to a secluded cabin to complete their training. Then, Louis begins to share senses with Harry. What is causing this mysterious connection and can Louis and Harry figure out how to stop it before they leave the cabin?

🌲 Warming Up to You by @youreyesonlarry {E, 56k}

“I feel you,” Harry nods along as he zips his bag open, carefully pulling out his fancy looking camera before pressing a button to turn it on. “I love taking pictures for a number of reasons, but I think the best part of the whole thing is that I’m able to go through my older pictures and have all these memories from those moments come back to me.”

He puts the camera against his eye and points at Louis, and before the shorter one can even react, he hears a ‘click’, and Harry’s smiling down at the screen of his camera.

“And I don't think I want to forget about the day I got stranded in a cabin with a pretty stranger,” he finishes off.

Prompt 111: Louis and Harry are strangers that somehow got stranded during a blizzard. They find themselves in an abandoned cabin and have to cuddle for warmth. Cuddling leads to much more.

🌲 Cabin Fever by @germericangirl {E, 46k}

“What the fuck is he doing here?“ He asked still looking at him, before he turned back to look at Niall for an answer.

Niall’s mouth fell open and he looked at him with wide eyes "He um changed his mind?“

Harry stared at Niall for a few seconds in silence, before grabbing a bag and walking towards a bedroom without looking at anyone else, slamming the door shut behind himself.

Liam flinched in front of Louis.

“Well I’m happy to see you too.“ Louis mumbled, some of the tension leaving his body. This wasn’t exactly how he thought their first meeting would go. It was quiet for a moment before Louis finally spoke up “Did you seriously not tell him I was coming?“

Or: One cabin, one bed, two ex-boyfriends. What could possibly go wrong?

🌲 Snow Job by @duchesskitty16 {E, 42k}

Harry is a world famous rock star who is closeted and never gives interviews. Louis is a failed novelist and reporter for a gossip magazine that has fallen on hard times. Louis is promised a promotion if he can get the ultimate get - an interview with Harry Styles. Louis finds out that Harry has a mountain cabin near where his friends Zayn and Niall live and heads up to try and meet him. In a twist of fate, Louis has an accident and Harry saves him. Will Louis get his story, or will the fact that he's falling in love change things? Will Harry forgive him when he finds out Louis is lying to him? Will Harry find the courage to come out of the closet and finally be happy?

🌲 too much, but it’s enough by @ohpleaselarry {E, 40k}

There are about a thousand things Louis wishes he could go back in time and fix. A thousand things, and nearly all of them include Harry.

There are the more simple things, like showing him more support, telling him it’s okay to be himself, gently reminding him that a condom in his pocket is rather obvious in skinny jeans, but if he could just choose one thing, just one to change, he’d probably just have told the lad he loves him.

Always has. And always will.

🌲 Something As Simple As This by frenchkiss {E, 34k}

Trapped in a cabin in the middle of nowhere after a blizzard derails Louis from getting home, he and the attractive stranger who owns the place have nothing to do but... well, each other. It would be a real shame if feelings got in the way, and even more of a shame if a secret about this stranger's identity turned both their lives upside down and inside out.

🌲 Etched in Salt (is a cathedral of the world) by @helloamhere {E, 24k}

Louis asks for very few things in life, and they are: to solve cases, to keep bad people from doing their bad things, to get good coffee, to go home to a spacious apartment with nobody else in it, and to manage his stupid telempathy powers with minimal interference. And now he's stuck in a tiny cabin in a snowstorm in the middle of god-awful-nowhere with Harry Styles. Because of course he is.

🌲 you’re the habit that i can’t break by @ohpleaselarry {NR, 24k}

The boys decide to have a belated band reunion, just the five of them. One week, one cabin in the mountains, five boys.

Harry and Louis haven’t spoken sober in a year.

🌲 An Aurora Grove Christmas by @dandelionfairies {T, 17k}

Harry gets lost on his way to St. Louis. The roads are horrid because of the snow and he ends up spinning into a ditch. Lucky for him, he finds a cabin nearby, as well as a cute blue-eyed man who immediately helps him. Unfortunately, his car is stuck for the night, but at least he has a place to stay with Louis. With the snow continuing to fall and another storm front coming through, will he ever make it out of Aurora Grove? Does he even want to?

🌲 The fic where Harry calls Louis an idiot for ten days straight because he is one. by @mercurial-madhouse {M, 16k}

They’ve found the perfect get away from their busy lives as nationally-famous footie player and well-respected restaurant critic, escaping to the isolation of a cabin in the woods where they can simply be Louis and Harry.

If only both were actually here.

A gift forgotten in London, the untameable force of the weather, and the scent of burnt snickerdoodle biscuits find Harry and Clifford pitifully alone and Louis... Where is Louis?

🌲 Darling, Just Hold My Hand by likelarry {E, 10k}

Louis and Harry decide to spend a week at a skii resort with their families during the Christmas holidays.

On Christmas night, Harry goes into labor but the family gets snowed in which forces him to give birth in the cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Luckily, his husband is a surgeon who can help.

🌲 heaps of blankets by gemma {E, 7k}

You know when you and the one you love go for a not-so-adventurous adventure? And you do everything that's crazy, everything you want and just enjoy each other's company? That's Harry's plan when he rents a cabin at a resort in the mountains for him and Louis.

🌲 Orchids by talasArchivesx / @talasarchive {M, 7k}

“Do you find me sensible yet?” Twenty-two letters and six words, yet it lingers on Louis’ mind like an old song playing from a worn cassette. Such a memory holds so much significance it visits Louis’ mind every unsuspecting moment.

The words are a dreamy reminder of such precious seconds of his life.

A story about losing against the drifting tide, and finally coming home; featuring a cabin, winter blizzard and “one bed”.

🌲 Let It Snow by @jaerie {E, 6k}

With a blizzard approaching, Louis planned to spend his birthday with a drink and a good book. In his self exile at his remote cabin, he never expected a poorly dressed stranger to show up shivering and covered in snow. He also didn’t expect to have one of his best birthdays on record.

🌲 wish i knew how to break this spell by eleadore {E, 6k}

Maybe it should be more of a surprise to open the door and find Harry wrapped up in about a dozen blankets, face pink from the cold and soft from sleep. It isn’t.

Harry, Louis, and a cabin. It's cold outside.

🌲 Strange Trails by bananazine {G, 4k}

After one of Harry Style's third-years lost their favourite hat on a class hike, Harry goes back the next day to retrieve it. To his demise, a downpour of rain strikes, forcing him to search for shelter. He runs without a stop towards the nearest clearing and his prayers get answered when he sees an old hunting cabin. With trepidation slowing his steps, he finally makes it towards the presumably vacant cabin. Though, to be polite, he knocks, only to be faced by the bluest eyes he has ever seen.

🌲 (not) driving home for christmas by BeautifulWisdom / @justanotherghostblr {T, 3k}

Spending the holidays alone at his cabin, driving through a snowstorm Harry hits an animal. He takes the large dog back to his cabin to see if he can keep it alive until the storm breaks and he can get to a vet. Colour him surprised and woefully unprepared when said dog turns into a very bloody and very naked man.

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03jyh23 · 7 days

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— capturing us || choi san

every moment captured with you is a masterpiece painted with love, each frame a testament to the beauty of our journey together

vlogger!san x reader

genre: fluff

trigger warnings: none!

words: 1.6 k

reminder: what you're about to read is purely fiction, so let's keep it separate from reality.

minors do not interact

— hi there! thank you @monstaxdirtywonk for requesting this prompt, i hope you will like it! in my country spring has finally arrived, and since it's my favorite season i can't help but write about it.

love, monika. ♡

Spring was your favorite season. The vibrant blossoms, the lush greenery enveloping you, and the gentle caress of sunshine on your skin filled you with boundless joy. With the first sip of your beloved iced coffee, the perfection of spring seemed complete. Yet, amidst all this beauty, there was one presence that outshone even the splendor of the season - Choi San, the one you cherished above all else. Spring always brought a sense of renewal and joy, but nothing compared to the warmth that San brought into your life. With him, every moment felt like the perfect blend of sunshine, laughter, and love. As you sipped on your favorite iced coffee, you couldn't help but smile, knowing that spring was made even more beautiful with him by your side.

Describing San as merely handsome felt like a gross understatement; he embodied all that was good and beautiful in this world. When his smile lit up his face and reached the depths of his eyes, it was as if the entire universe aligned just to witness that moment. He was the epitome of perfection, your favorite sight in the whole world full of wonders. In San's embrace, every doubt melted away, for his love was a constant beacon of warmth and reassurance. Never did you question his love, for his actions spoke volumes, always placing your comfort and happiness above all else. With him, there was never a moment of feeling unloved or unseen, as he showered you with care and attention in ways both big and small. His selflessness knew no bounds. In his arms, you found solace and security, knowing that you were cherished beyond measure.

In the park, surrounded by the vibrant energy of spring, even the people passing by seemed to carry an extra bounce in their step, their smiles mirroring the blossoming flowers around them. As you waited for San to wrap up his recording for his latest vlog, you couldn't help but feel a swell of pride witnessing his passion for filming flourish. From humble beginnings to now, with a growing community of subscribers, his dedication was inspiring. This year marked the third chapter of your relationship, as you watched him work, you marveled at how far you had come together, cherishing every milestone and triumph along the way.

Returning from the depths of your thoughts, you were greeted by the familiar click of a camera. Following the sound, your eyes lit up as you saw San, your heart swelling with affection as you realized he was the one behind the lens. His mischievous grin mirrored your own bright smile, with him by your side, every instant was a precious memory.

"I like seeing you smile." San's words danced in the air, wrapping around you. His tender affirmation ignited an even brighter smile on your lips, your heart fluttering with joy at his sweet sentiment. ''So beautiful...’’ As he swiftly pressed the camera button, freezing the moment in time, his whispered declaration washed over you, filling you with a sense of pure adoration. In his eyes, you saw reflected the depth of his affection, a love that made every moment infinitely beautiful.

"Well, hello to you too," you greeted playfully, rising from the bench. San's response was immediate, his arms enveloping you in a gentle embrace as if he couldn't bear to be apart from you for another moment.

"Hi, my love," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine affection. "I couldn’t wait to kiss you." As San leaned in to press a gentle, feather-like kiss against your lips, a wave of tenderness washed over you. In the early days of your relationship, there were whispers of "puppy love" and the expectation that it would eventually fade after the first year. Mentally preparing yourself for this supposed shift, you braced for changes that never came. But as time passed, you realized that your love defied such constraints. With each passing day, your connection only grew stronger, deepening into something far beyond the fleeting infatuation of puppy love. Your relationship was anchored in mutual respect, understanding, and unwavering support, traits that only strengthened as you journeyed through life together.

"How did the recording go?" You asked, intertwining your fingers with San's as you began to stroll down your favorite path in the park. With each step, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in your own little bubble of happiness. San smiled warmly, his gaze softening as he recounted the day's events.

"It went really well," he replied, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "I lost to Yunho about three times, but it’s fine. He was always a better gamer than me." You chuckled, imagining their friendly competition.

"Well, at least you gave it your best shot," you said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Besides, it's all in good fun, right?" San nodded a playful glint in his eyes.

"Exactly! Plus, I'll just have to practice more for our next gaming session." Yunho and San's friendship traced back to their teenage years, they bonded over shared interests and endless hours of gaming together. Initially, they started their YouTube journey with a joint channel, where they showcased their gaming prowess and took on various challenges. However, as time passed, San's creative aspirations blossomed, and he yearned to explore more artistic avenues through his vlogs. Recognizing this, they made the mutual decision to branch out and create separate channels, each tailored to their individual passions. Yunho's channel became a haven for gaming enthusiasts, where he could delve deep into his love for video games and connect with like-minded viewers. Meanwhile, San's channel emerged as a platform for his artistic expression, showcasing his unique perspective through visually captivating videos and thought-provoking content.

"I’ve been working on the vlog from our trip to Rome " San shifted the conversation, his tone filled with excitement. "And my favourite shots are with you... " The truth was, fame held a certain fear for you, and the thought of being recognizable sent unpleasant shivers down your spine. It wasn't that you didn't support San's endeavors or take pride in his accomplishments; rather, the idea of stepping into the spotlight yourself felt daunting. San, ever understanding and considerate of your feelings, made a conscious effort to respect your privacy. He never mentioned you in any of his content, carefully safeguarding your relationship from the prying eyes of fame. Three years had passed, and San's desire to share your love with the world had only grown stronger. Despite accumulating a treasure trove of videos featuring you two together, he had refrained from posting them out of respect for your privacy. Yet, deep down, he had a silent hope that one day, he could introduce you to his audience, showcasing the beauty of your love. The thought of sharing your journey with others filled him with excitement and anticipation, a dream he held dear to his heart.

"San..." you sighed softly, feeling a mix of apprehension and affection at his words.

"I know, baby," he murmured, his voice filled with understanding. "I know you’re scared, but it’s just... I really want to show you off in my art." In these words, a gentle plea echoed. While the thought of being exposed to the world still made you nervous, you couldn't deny the sincerity and love in his words. San didn't see you as a mere subject for his videos; he viewed you as a muse, an integral part of his creative expression. "You know I won’t let anyone hurt you"

"I know," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, filled with gratitude for his unwavering protection. "I trust you completely." With his reassurance echoing in your mind, you took a deep breath and met his gaze, allowing yourself to be vulnerable in his presence. In his eyes, you found a place where fear dissolved into the warmth of his love.

"Okay, San," you whispered softly, "Let's do it." San's sweet laugh filled the air, in one swift motion, he enveloped you in his arms and lifted you off the ground, spinning you around in a whirlwind of happiness.

"I can't believe you finally agreed!" he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with delight. Caught up in the moment, you couldn't help but laugh along with him, feeling a surge of exhilaration and contentment coursing through your veins. In his embrace, you found courage and reassurance. "I love you so much," San whispered tenderly, his voice carrying the weight of his affection as he gently set you back down on the ground. With a gentle touch, he lifted your chin, drawing you in for a sweet and lingering kiss. After pulling out of the kiss, San wasted no time and immediately started recording. Surprised and a bit flustered, you couldn't help but laugh at his spontaneity.

"What are you doing?" You chuckled, trying to compose yourself as he aimed the camera at both of you.

"I'm not letting this moment slip away," he replied with a grin, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Hi, everyone," he addressed the camera, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "I couldn't wait any longer to introduce you to someone very special to me." And as he spoke those words, a mixture of emotions swirled within you— anticipation, nerves, but above all, a deep sense of love and appreciation for the man standing before you. With San by your side, you felt ready to embrace whatever the future held, knowing that your love would guide you through every adventure, on and off camera.

#san x reader #san x y/n #choi san x reader #choi san x y/n #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #san fluff #ateez #choi san fluff

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ghostsy · 7 months

Text

Forever Hold Your Peace

WARNINGS: yandere, mentions of death, mentions of murder, non-consensual implications, implied kidnapping, hand kink if you squint

A/N: another quick short drabble, pls enjoy a deranged lil wedding crasher dabi.

read at your own discretion.

yandere ! DABI X READER

“Give me one good reason not to kill you.”

She’d never known blue to be such an angry color, but even glowing with barely contained rage, she couldn’t help but find his eyes beautiful.

“I can’t.”

It was growing all around them now, ice-colored fire licking at the tattered remains of her white dress. Still, she thought the heat was less threatening than warm.

Her answer seemed to physically wound him, the soft tremble in his brow almost begging her to say something. Something to justify whatever confusing ugly thing he felt finally standing in front of her after all these years. Something that would let him sleep at night if he were to burn her bones to ash that moment, give into that cruel voice in his fractured mind demanding he destroy any and every memory that had ever made him feel something.

“You broke your promise.”

“I wasn’t aware there were promises to keep with corpses.” There she was, that quick wit he remembered her for, loved her for, once upon a time. Even with his hand at her throat, even with the blood of the man she’d just sworn to love until death–another corpse, whose promise had quickly been fulfilled–even with his blood smeared across her cheek, she still stood tall, dignified.

“Is that what I am to you?” He breathed, thumb tracing the curve of her jaw, fingers flexing at the feel of her racing pulse under her neck, “A corpse?” It was a silly question; the patchwork wounds stapled to his rotting skin suggested he was anything but a real, living, man. If he thought about it, he really hadn’t been living for quite some time.

“No, I suppose not,” Her voice was shaky, and he couldn’t tell if the mascara-stained tears wetting her cheeks were for the mass of burning bodies behind them or for him, “More of a ghost.”

The corner of his lips quirked up, huffing a short, bitter laugh, “A ghost,” He pondered for a moment, “I like it,” His other hand made its way up from her hip, brushing at the underside of her clothed breasts, “Here I am haunting you, after all.”

“I think,” Her hands balled into fists, but he made note as they stayed trembling at her sides, “That you’re here haunting us both.”

“I guess you’re right,” His eyes fell to scan her singed gown, “In another life,” Ignoring the clenching of her jaw, he continued, “You’d have worn that dress for me.”

She swallowed, “In another life,” Her eyes left his now, sweeping the mutilated remains littering the pews, “You’d have loved me enough.”

All of a sudden he tore himself from her as if she’d burned him, “Loved you enough?” An incredulous laugh as his arm stretched out to the scene behind them, “What the fuck is all this if it isn’t enough?”

“It’s really so devastating,” She sighed out a name that was once his, and he was surprised at the weight one word could leave on his heart, “That you would consider this love.” But his anger had returned full force, and he thought maybe now he’d be able to kill her.

“Did you love him?”

Here it was, the answer that would seal her fate. He could do it if she said what he knew she’d say. He would do it.

“No,” His heart skipped a beat, “I do love him.” And all at once, the mangled coal in his chest crumbled to ash. Do it. You said you’d do it. Do it, you fucking coward.

No, he needed more. His fingers twitched at his sides, sparks of blue igniting and snuffing out in nervous repetition. Just one more thing, and he could do it.

“You can’t keep a promise to a corpse,” He spat, “But you can love one?” He stepped closer to her, glowing eyes narrowed, staring down at her.

“Not any more or less than one can love a ghost, I’d imagine.”

His hands flew back to her throat, and he wrenched her face up to meet his, “And do you?” His voice fell to a raspy whisper, and he couldn’t tell if it was out of fury or desperation, “Love a ghost?”

“I don’t want to,” And again more tears welled and fell, “I really didn’t want to.”

“That’s not what I asked.” His words were shaking with anticipation, fingers trembling as they cradled her cheeks.

“Does it matter?” She sniffed, eyes flickering to the carnage, “I shouldn’t. Especially now, I shouldn’t,” There was a wrinkle in her brow that betrayed her self-disgust, “I never should have.”

He swallowed, gaze catching on her lips, “But you do.” He’d meant it to come out as a question, but there was a sort of finality in his words. She makes you weak. Kill her. Do it. Now. Do it now. Shut up.

She tried to pull away from him, but he held her face firmly, “No matter where I go,” The turn of her voice was bitter, “You haunt me.”

A soft, manic laugh, “I think,” He leaned down, lips brushing hers, “We’ve both been haunting each other.” And after a month-long moment he surged forward, crashing his mouth against her own, tongue swallowing the strangled yelp that died in her throat.

He stepped forward as she stumbled back from the force, and her fingers flew to grip at his wrists in an attempt to stabilize herself, nails digging into the ruined skin. His leg steadied between both of hers, the bones in his patchwork hands straining as they pulled her into him, as if he were trying to make her body melt into his; make him whole.

Finally she ripped herself from him, stumbling, and wiped furiously at her lips, “I don’t want you,” Her voice was hoarse as she caught her breath, “Nothing else matters, because I don’t want you.”

It was like someone had poured ice water in his veins, and he’d come to the terrifying conclusion that it didn’t matter what she said or did; she could tell him she wanted him dead, and he’d still find an excuse to keep her here with him.

“I don’t care,” A breathless confession.

After years without, he hadn’t realized just how starved the idea of letting her go would make him feel. He intended for his flames to swallow her whole when he'd found her again, but there was an entirely more appetizing option. He’d starved himself long enough.

The tapestries along the walls had caught fire, and the light shone through the stained glass windows, casting a blue tint across her skin. Like it was marking her as his. His hand shot out to wrap around her wrist when she tried to turn away, and he yanked her back to him.

“Nothing else matters, because I don’t care.”

She tried and failed to pull her arm from his bruising grip, feet sliding as she used her full weight, “Kill me, then,” She choked on a sob, “Why don’t you just kill me, then?”

He stared at her a long moment as she struggled, streaks of ruined makeup painting her cheeks, that once angel-white gown stained black with ash, a gloss in her eyes he could only describe as heartbreak, and he couldn’t help but think that she’d never looked so beautiful.

“I can’t.”

#yandere dabi #yandere bnha #yandere mha #yandere todoroki touya #yandere dabi x reader #yandere touya #yandere todoroki touya x reader #yandere todoroki toya #yandere toya #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere x reader #yandere x you #dabi is just such a beautifully tragic character and yes i will exploit it

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cassieuncaged · 4 months

Text

Price of Compassion - Part 3

NSFW/MATURE/MDNI/18+

Part 1 | Part 2

Astarion x Reader

Summary: You and a certain roguish vampire give into a night of passion.

TW: explicit sexual content, blood drinking, language.

WC: 2.4K

A/N: I posted chapter three awhile ago and decided to finally cross post. One more chapter filled with angst and fluff coming soon!

The next part will officially be my final reader insert :)

Lithe fingers dip between a tangle of limbs, undoing the clasps of your doublet while his swelling groin ruts against your pubic bone. The friction is the most palpable sexual attention you’ve garnered in what feels like a lifetime.

Not to mention the attention of such a talented lover instead of a fumbling novice. His iciness is a strange sensation, pearlescent skin freezing against the warmth of a flushed chest when a ruffled jerkin is finally yanked open. One elbow is braced beside a clothed shoulder as skillful lips lap at the puckered pin pricks marring your neck while one breast is kneaded beneath restrictive smalls.

Despite his condition, Astarion feels so alive as fangs snag against a tender throat, groaning needily as he basks in your warmth. The barrier of a woven brassiere is pushed aside as a skilled forefinger and thumb tweak a pebbled teat. Mewling hungrily at his ministrations, cold breaths spans across the shell of one ear before that velvety voice is cradling your senses in promising words.

“I wonder what delicious secrets this body of yours is harboring.” One thigh presses against a sharp hip as your leg remains hooked across the small of his back. “Shall we discover together?”

“Please…” you whine, arching upwards as he spreads the front of your doublet completely open. “Ravish my needy form and I’m sure you’ll be delighted in the trove of treasures you seek.”

“Quite the poetic bard considering you’re writhing against my cock like a beast in heat.” He grits, feeling his loins set aflame as you stifle a giggle. You ignite something so foreign in him: pure delight mingled with an insatiable hunger. He wonders if he’s ever felt so unrestrained with a lover before his untimely demise but is unable to patch the memories together. He dismisses the thought before ducking down to take a stiff peak between talented lips. Suckling hungrily, you mewl with delight as his tongue flicks across the tip.

“Bend me on all fours and see exactly how much of a beast I can be,” your fingers desperately thread through silvery curls as a deep laugh rumbles against your chest.

“Oh, you are just a delightful little treat,” Astarion groans before leaning back on his haunches, knees pressed again against your clothed mound. Grinding down, you’re desperate for any friction as muscles desperately clench around nothing. “Greedy little thing too.”

“Fuck me into oblivion and I’ll write the most flattering ballads about our debauchery.” You whine, shrugging the unclasped doublet and brassiere off on the forest floor before working at the laces of velveteen breeches. “I find myself to be a rather generous poet.”

“I’m dying to discover just how generous you can be,” the man practically purrs as his ruffled tunic is swiftly removed and tossed asunder. A desperate moan is torn from your throat as wide eyes hungrily assess a beautifully sculpted body. Muscles twitch beneath warm hands, feeling like molten lava against icy skin. Admiring every dip and ridge, your fingers dance playfully across the waistband of his breeches before softly grazing a clothed cock.

“Very,” you practically sing, melodic voice tinkling through the forest. There’s an intrusive thought, a passing consideration that his intrusion will feel like velvet swaddled ice intruding your womb. Clamoring at the thought, one lace is plucked taut as the string of a fiddle. “My mouth has many talents other than singing bawdy songs.”

“I’d rather like to challenge that declaration,” Astarion delights in how pupils dilate like the moon eclipsing the sun, as he pushes shaking fingers away to undo the ties himself. A strangled cry escapes your throat when a long member is exposed to the night air. Long fingers drift down the length lazily before you’re gracelessly rolling to your belly, crawling until the weeping head bobs in front of your nose. “Be gentle. It’s been…a lifetime.”

You realize he’s quivering, nervous to allow another to be in control of his pleasure. One hand eases leather breeches down thick thighs, caressing tender skin as lust filled eyes flicker upwards to meet a heavily lidded pair.

“May I touch you?” it’s not the words themselves, but rather the kindness emitted that steals the breath from his throat. Something so erotic that straddles the line of pure and loving, something the vampire doesn’t remember from his living years. He wants to be disgusted by such sincerity. Yet all revulsion melts away and is replaced by genuine affection.

How strange.

“You may, pet.” Attempting to rebuild his faltering confidence, a large hand plants firmly at the back of your head. A hot and needy tongue laps at his dripping tip, enjoying the salty chill of his essence. Flicking across his slit teasingly is immediately followed by a stroke against a dusky vein. “Oh, hells.”

“What a lovely cock,” you sigh, before the vicelike grip on the back of your head presses him into the cavernous warmth of your mouth. The cold is strange as he settles deeply with a groan, prickling the back of your throat. You’re unseasoned, attempting to relax tense muscles and breathe out of flared nostrils.

“What was that, darling?” Astarion mocks, hissing his fangs before beginning to thrust languidly. “Appears your mouth is rather full.”

Gagging, you adjust to the heaviness settled on the flat of your tongue, bobbing in time with the tempo set. Saliva gathers at the corners of stretched lips, dribbling down your chin. Larger than you expected, the entirety of his length doesn’t fit as firm fingers wrap around exposed base while you dutifully suck and lave at the rest.

For nearly two centuries of seducing others, he can’t remember when someone so eagerly assisted him in seeking his own pleasure. Teeth grind together as a guttural moan escapes perfect lips, fingers threaded through your hair. Practically toppling over from passion, Astarion watches hungrily as one hand dips between covered thighs.

Rubbing your clothed mound in time with his thrusts relieves the taut pressure mounting between your legs. His pace remains slow yet firm, tip pushing ever so slightly down your throat. Attempting not to gag, blunt teeth gently caress the tender member as your fist squeezes the base. Your cunt clenches as another moan escapes him, needy and shallow.

“Please,” yanking you firmly off his length is surprising though appreciated as tears prickle the corners of bleary eyes, “You are absolutely amazing. But I’m not ready to be spent quite yet.”

“Oh?” an icy palm cradles your chin, gently pulling upwards until you’re settled on your knees, hard nipples scraping against his equally bare chest. One ashen brow quirks delicately, studying the debauched sight before him. Your lips are swollen but not nearly enough…

Mouths crash against each other fervently as a muscular arm latches around the small of your back. Tongues messily lance as the heady taste of expensive brandy flickers against sensitive taste buds, mingling with Astarion’s own saltiness that lingers on your lips. The kiss is wilder than the one earlier, something igniting deep in both of your bellies this time. He doesn’t want to admit how perfect you feel pressed against him, how this feels so natural with you.

For tonight, Astarion is no longer a ghost haunting the husk of a man.

A soft hand palms your breast eagerly, freezing veneer relishing the heat you radiate, like the sun calling to the moon. Then he smirks against your lips, brows pressed together as both pant heavily with no trepidation. The sharp curve of his nose nudges your own as kisses are littered from the corner of your mouth down to the hard plane of your jaw.

“Bite me,” you whine, ready to feel that familiar throb heightens between your thighs. While the subject has never been broached, both know exactly what his nightly feedings do to your body. Astarion feels your pulse quicken, smells the arousal on you like the feral beast you are.

“Such an eager treat,” he chuckles against the crook of your neck before gently pushing you onto your back. Your gaze lingers on his cock, still slick from earlier ministrations as he peels his breeches off completely. Then you’re both working at the laces of your own, awkwardly them down bare legs, “But may I taste something else first?”

“I’m liable to sing your praises if you do that,” It’s a playful warning as spread your thighs as spread obscenely wide.

“I hope you do,” his timbre is deeper, dark with lust as wine red eyes drag across your swollen cunt. “I’d like the entirety of camp hear your cries as you come apart again and again.”

“First you have to touch me.” You jest, allowing your knees to splay against the dewy grass.

“Apparently,” One finger swipes down the length of your slit, before his head is dipping down between spread legs. “I don’t. Considering how wet you are from sucking my cock alone.”

“Stop teasing and-” your words are cut off with an embarrassing sound as soft lips latch against your core. Still retaining the heat from impassioned kisses, he feels like fire against molten flesh as instinct settles in. Lapping at you like a parched man wandering the Anauroch desert, he’s found his oasis. The tip of a skilled tongue circles your clit without directly touching it as you buck against him. Large hands press bare thighs downwards, attempting to keep the wriggling at a minimum before he’s harshly sucking the swollen bud between his lips.

Your own fingers seek purchase in silvery curls, enjoying how the texture tickles your palms. You mewl as that silver tongue suddenly spears a slick hole at a maddening pace. An explosion of stars explode beneath clenched eyelids as pleasure washes over you like a wave, muscles spasming as a chorus of the spawn’s name echoes through the night.

“Minx,” he chides, tearing himself from your cunt before his veins slip into your inner thigh like a blade through sinew. Vampiric venom courses through purpling veins as your head lolls to one side, immersed by a chilling bite as he suckles tender skin. Vision begins to swim again, black beginning to cloud the edges of the night before Astarion pulls away with a pant. “One who tastes sweeter than the finest wine.”

“What exactly tastes so delectable?” you tease before a solid body is slithering up between your legs, pressing a trail of bloody kisses against a quivering mound, a shallow navel, goose pimpled breasts.

“Dare I say both?” Astarion sighs, tongue swiping across one clavicle. “I’ve been with thousands yet I’d travel the across the Faerun twice over to savor something so sweet on my lips again.”

“I thought I was the one supposed to compose poetry.” A sharp nose nuzzles into the hollow of your throat as a talented mouth continues to ghost upwards. Your breathing hitches as his twitching erection prods one thigh.

“You’re not the only one with an affinity for pretty words.” He chides, carefully avoiding your gaze as lips gently glide against each other. Eyelids flutter close as strong arms brace either of your shoulders, chest heaving. There’s a struggle to remain present, to not immediately close his mind off and disappear into its dark recesses. Then your palm flattens against his cheek, pulling his gaze upwards to disarming doe eyes.

Stay with me.

The plea is silent though he can feel the words through the squirming of a tadpole. No one has ever been so cautious with his invisible fragility. You want something more, something that frightens him. Astarion can provide pleasure, a pleasant distraction. How could you ever be anything more than a body to bed?

Then the thoughts fade away as a delicate fingers wind between a tangle of limbs, gently grasping his throbbing cock before swiping the head through dripping folds. His eyes begin to roll back, a snowy ringlet tickling your brow when the bulbous head finally splits you.

“By the gods…” his words are strangled as the he slowly bottoms out. Settled snuggly inside suffocating walls, you spasm uncontrollably as your legs immediately wrap around his hips like creeping vines. You wish to hold him there forever, groaning as an undead heartbeat throbs like a metronome. “You truly were created for my own ruin.”

“I-I…please,” the words are a stammer as lean hips begin to rock slowly before the entire length of him is drawn out and slammed back in with an eager stab. “More…”

“Careful what you wish for, darling,” he purrs before kissing his way to the shell of one ear, “You might just get it.”

Words are lost as a maddening pace is struck, slow yet bruising as each slam grinds pelvises together greedily. You’re convinced nothing has felt as delectable as he manages to find every nerve ending and light them each a flame. Feasting on sanguine blood gives the illusion of life as a broad chest houses a foreign heat. It’s intoxicating, even more so the position suddenly shifts. His strength is impressive as you’re effortlessly pulled into his lap.

Arms are knotted around a long neck as large hands settle upon lush hips, vigorously bouncing you atop him. A string of obscenities leaves swelled lips followed by the incessant chanting of his name like you’re worshipping a god. He'd smirk if his hips didn't begin to stutter, cock jerking as you meet each thrust eagerly, hungrily as you roll against him. Feeling yourself unravel from the inside out, your own release beckons when fangs split the healing wound upon your throat once more. Sucking greedily, your body limply falls against a sturdy chest as he finishes with a few bruising thrusts.

Pulling away from a delicious neck, Astarion says nothing as his fingers dig painfully in the skin of your back. Panting breaths are the only sound in the forest other that the rushing water of the river and the chorus of crickets. You grin against the column of his throat as he tucks you beneath a sharp chin.

For a moment, bloody and spent, it feels like you are truly his.

#astarion #astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #smut #oneshot #astarion x you #reader insert

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caestusarchivum · 2 years

Note

slurred words; could be criminal verse eddie or what she thinks of him now since arkham knight...

There was something stronger that burned in her gut. Stronger than however many BuzzBallz she had grouped together nearby, some strawberry, some cranberry, some margarita mixes. She had drank three of them, with that alcohol content of 20% really racking up. This was the one time in her life where she felt she needed it. The artificial juice sits on her tongue, and her canines are grit harsh against her bottom lip.

Hate was a strong word. She felt betrayed. "Never in my life has someone talked down t'me in such a way." Her voice is steady and enunciated, concealing fury. "He made me feel fuckin' stupid. He talked t'me like I was a child. I remember everythin' he said t'me. When I first met him, I thought he could be an in t'the underworld. I thought we could benefit each other with our skillsets, an' that'd be it."

She slams her hand against the table. "I've never met a more immature, smug, filthy, piece've shit individual in m'fuckin' life. If he ever tries me again, I'll rip his fuckin' throat out fer makin' a fool've me."

#ic | this memory ignites #arkhamverse | a prison deep under fortress grounds / where they spill the blood of man #hikari's opinion on crime!eddie: smug bastard but fun to be around. wld play uno with him and solve his puzzles fr fun.#the arkham knight consensus???#... bad!#riddlethat

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tosomeonessomeone · 2 months

Text

young love.

words・ 2.5k /pairings・ I.N x reader / genres・fluff / warnings・ suggestive

Hello, my beloved ones! I realize I'm quite tardy with Valentine's wishes, but they say better late than never, right? Haha.

Ah, what a perfect setting for a romantic getaway! The weekend in Busan stretched before you and Jongin, a canvas waiting to be painted with moments of love and celebration. With Valentine's Day lingering in the air and Jongin's recent birthday adding an extra layer of joy, the stage was set for a memorable time together.

As you walked hand in hand along the sun-kissed shores of Busan, the waves whispering sweet nothings and the salty breeze carrying the promise of endless adventures, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the precious moments shared with Jongin.

Together, you explored the hidden gems of the city, from quaint cafes tucked away in narrow alleyways to panoramic viewpoints offering breathtaking vistas of the coastline. Each moment was a treasure, each smile a testament to the love that bound you together.

As the weekend unfolded, you found solace in the simple pleasures of life—the warmth of Jongin's hand in yours, the shared laughter that echoed through the streets, the quiet moments of reflection as you watched the sun dip below the horizon.

Jongin's thoughtful gesture of reserving a special hotel room by the beach filled your heart with warmth and anticipation. As you stepped into the room, the air was filled with a sense of magic, the gentle sound of waves serenading you like a lullaby.

The room was adorned with delicate fairy lights, casting a soft glow that danced across the walls. A bouquet of your favorite flowers adorned the bedside table, their fragrance filling the air with a sweet perfume. Through the windows, the sunlight danced on the water, painting shimmering patterns on the sand below.

Jongin's eyes sparkled with excitement as he took your hand, leading you to the balcony overlooking the ocean..

"This weekend is all about us," Jongin said, his voice filled with tenderness. "A chance to celebrate our love and create memories that will last a lifetime."

With a smile, you wrapped your arms around him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest. In that moment, surrounded by the beauty of the day and the warmth of Jongin's embrace, you knew that this was where you were meant to be.

Feeling like a teenager in love with Jongin was a sensation that swept over you like a wave of nostalgia and excitement, igniting your heart with a fervor reminiscent of those carefree days of youth.

There were moments when his laughter echoed in your ears like the melody of your favorite song, and the mere sight of him sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Every stolen glance, every whispered word, carried the electricity of newfound love, infusing your days with a sense of wonder and possibility.

Like teenagers, you shared inside jokes and playful banter, finding delight in the smallest of gestures and the simplest of pleasures. Whether it was sharing a cone of ice cream by the beach or stealing kisses under the moonlight, every moment felt like an adventure waiting to unfold.

"Hey, remember that time we got lost in the maze of streets in Busan?" you chuckle, recalling a particularly memorable adventure.

Jongin grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "How could I forget? We stumbled upon the most amazing little café tucked away in the corner. Best latte I've ever had."

You laugh, the memory washing over you like a warm embrace. "Yeah, and we spent hours just talking and laughing. It was like time stood still."

In Jongin's presence, you rediscovered the innocence of first love and the magic of shared dreams, each day filled with the promise of new beginnings and endless possibilities. And as you embraced the beauty of being young and in love, you knew that with Jongin by your side, every moment would be a reminder of the timeless allure of youth and the boundless power of love.

As you both treaded along the private beach, the cold air brushing against your faces, the conversation flowed effortlessly between you and Jongin, weaving through topics as diverse as the grains of sand beneath your feet.

"Isn't it funny how life works?" you remarked, a playful grin tugging at the corners of your lips.

Jongin chuckled, the sound carrying over the gentle roar of the waves. "Yeah, it's like a rollercoaster ride with unexpected twists and turns at every corner."

You nodded in agreement, the rhythm of the ocean providing a soothing backdrop to your conversation. "But I guess that's what makes it interesting, right? The unpredictability of it all."

Jongin glanced at you, his eyes reflecting the muted colors of the setting sun. "Definitely. Keeps us on our toes, keeps us moving forward."

The waves crashed against the shore, a symphony of nature's symphony, as you continued your leisurely walk along the beach. The tranquility of the moment allowed for deeper introspection and shared contemplation.

"And yet, amidst all the chaos, there are these moments of clarity," Jongin mused, his voice soft yet profound. "Moments when everything just clicks into place, and you realize that this, right here, is where you're supposed to be."

You smiled, the weight of his words settling comfortably in your heart. "Like right now, walking along the beach with you, having these conversations about life and love."

Jongin's gaze softened, a gentle smile gracing his lips. "Exactly. It's in these moments that we find meaning, that we find each other."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant shades of orange and pink, you and Jongin lingered on the beach, entranced by the breathtaking beauty of the sunset. The soft hues of twilight cast a warm glow over the sand, illuminating the world around you with a sense of tranquility and peace.

Reluctantly tearing yourselves away from the mesmerizing scene, you made your way back to the hotel room, hand in hand, the memory of the sunset lingering like a sweet melody in your minds.

As you stepped through the door, your breath caught in your throat at the sight that greeted you—a table adorned with flickering candles, casting a soft, romantic light over the room. The scent of delicious food wafted through the air, tantalizing your senses and beckoning you closer.

Jongin's eyes sparkled with anticipation as he pulled out a chair for you, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Surprise," he said, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

You couldn't help but be swept away by the gesture, by the thoughtfulness and love that had gone into planning this intimate dinner. With a grateful smile, you took your seat, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over you for this moment, for this love that enveloped you both.

As you savored each bite of the delicious meal, conversation flowed effortlessly between you and Jongin, laughter mingling with the gentle strains of music playing softly in the background. It was a moment frozen in time, a snapshot of love and togetherness that you would carry with you always.

As the soft strains of music filled the air, Jongin's hand found yours, his touch gentle yet firm as he pulled you up from your seat. With a playful smile, he swept you into his arms, guiding you into a slow, graceful dance.

The room seemed to fade away as you swayed together, lost in the melody and the warmth of each other's embrace. Jongin's eyes met yours, his gaze filled with a tenderness that spoke volumes, as if the music itself was a reflection of the love that bound you together.

With every step, every movement, you felt a sense of connection deepening between you, as if the world outside ceased to exist and all that mattered was this moment, this dance, this love.

The flickering candles cast shadows on the walls, painting the room in hues of warmth and intimacy. The music wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, its melody a soothing balm to the soul.

As you moved together, guided by the rhythm of the music and the beat of your hearts, you couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the moment—the way Jongin's eyes sparkled in the candlelight, the way his laughter filled the room with joy, the way his touch sent shivers down your spine.

In that moment, as you danced together in perfect harmony, you knew that this was what love was all about—finding solace and joy in each other's arms, sharing in the beauty of the present moment, and cherishing the simple pleasures of life.

And as the music faded into the night, you held onto Jongin a little tighter, knowing that no matter where life's journey took you, you would always have this dance, this love, to guide you through.

In that tender moment, as Jongin's eyes shimmered with love and affection, you felt the intensity of a fervor that spoke of passion and devotion.

The world seemed to stand still as his kiss enveloped you, igniting a fire within that burned brighter than the flickering candlelight. It was a kiss filled with longing, with the knowledge that every second was precious, every moment a gift to be cherished.

In his embrace, you felt a sense of completeness, as if every puzzle piece had finally fallen into place. His love washed over you like a tidal wave, overwhelming yet comforting, leaving you breathless and exhilarated all at once.

And as you melted into his embrace, lost in the sweetness of his kiss, you knew with absolute certainty that this love was timeless, unbreakable, a force of nature that would endure through every trial and triumph.

As the passion between you and Jongin ignited like wildfire, the air crackled with electricity, charged with the intensity of your desire. His touch sent shivers racing down your spine, igniting a primal hunger that pulsed through every fiber of your being.

In the heat of the moment, time seemed to stand still as you lost yourselves in each other, consumed by a fiery passion that blazed like a thousand suns. His hands roamed over your skin, tracing patterns of longing and need, while your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer with an urgency born of love and desire.

With each whispered word, each tender caress, the boundaries between you dissolved, merging your souls in a dance of raw emotion and unbridled ecstasy. The world outside faded into oblivion as you surrendered to the intoxicating allure of his touch, the rhythm of your hearts beating as one.

In the dim light of the room, shadows danced against the walls, mirroring the passion that burned within you both. Every kiss was a symphony of longing, every touch a symphony of desire, as you explored the depths of each other's hearts with a hunger that knew no bounds.

And as the flames of passion blazed higher, you found solace in the knowledge that in each other's arms, you had found home—a sanctuary where love reigned supreme and desire knew no limits.

As the first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, you stirred from your slumber, the warmth of the morning sun casting a golden glow over the room. The soft sheets enveloped your bare skin, a comforting embrace that spoke of the intimacy shared between you and Jongin.

Feeling his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer to his warm and bare body, sent a rush of warmth flooding through your veins. His steady heartbeat echoed in the quiet of the morning, a soothing rhythm that lulled you back into the depths of sleep.

As you nestled against him, the world outside faded away, cocooned in the sanctuary of his embrace. In that moment, there were no worries, no fears, no doubts—only the profound connection that bound you together, heart to heart, soul to soul.

With each rise and fall of his chest, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, knowing that in his arms, you were safe, cherished, loved beyond measure. And as you drifted back into dreams, you knew that the love you shared with Jongin would always be your guiding light, illuminating the path ahead with its timeless beauty and boundless grace.

As you turned to Jongin, your fingers gently brushed against his face, tracing the contours of his features with a tenderness that mirrored the affection in your heart. With a soft sigh, he stirred from his slumber, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours, still heavy with sleep but filled with love and warmth.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," you whispered, your voice a gentle melody that danced through the quiet of the room.

Jongin's lips curled into a drowsy smile as he leaned into your touch, his hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers with his own. "Morning," he murmured, his voice soft yet filled with a warmth that chased away the remnants of sleep.

The morning sunlight bathed the room in a soft, golden glow, casting shadows that danced across the walls like whispers of a shared secret. In the quiet intimacy of the moment, you found solace in the simple pleasure of being together, of sharing in the beauty of the morning and the love that bound you as one.

With a playful twinkle in his eyes, Jongin brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. "Did you sleep well?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.

You nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Like a baby," you replied, your heart swelling with gratitude for the warmth of his embrace, for the love that filled the spaces between you.

As you lay there, basking in the quiet serenity of the morning, you knew that no matter what the day held in store, you would always have this—these precious moments shared between two souls intertwined, bound together by the timeless beauty of love. And as you gazed into Jongin's eyes, you knew that with him by your side, every morning would be a promise of endless possibility, a reminder of the unbreakable bond that held you together, now and forever.

"Happy Valentine's, my love," Jongin whispered, his words carrying a tenderness that melted your heart. His lips met yours in a soft, sweet kiss, a gentle reminder of the love that bound you together.

With his arms wrapped around you, you felt a warmth spread through your entire being, a sense of completeness that only Jongin could evoke. In that moment, as you shared in the sweetness of his kiss, you knew that this day, like every day, would be filled with moments of love and connection.

"Happy Valentine's," you whispered back, your voice filled with love and tenderness as you returned Jongin's affectionate gesture. His kiss filled you with warmth, a gentle reminder of the depth of your connection and the beauty of your love.

Wrapped in his embrace, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, knowing that in his arms, you were home. Each touch, each caress, spoke volumes of the bond that held you together, weaving a tapestry of love and devotion that would stand the test of time.

"Thank you for being the light in my life," he said softly, his words a testament to the profound gratitude he felt for your presence, for your unwavering support and companionship.

As you lingered in the embrace of your beloved, the world outside faded into insignificance, leaving only the sweetness of the moment shared between two souls entwined in love.

#skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids #stray kids imagines #skz fluff #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz #skz i.n #i.n #i.n skz #i.n stray kids #i.n x reader #skz yang jeongin #Spotify

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simpforfandom231 · 3 months

Text

The drug queen and the singer PT3

the moment this releases, i'm like on my trip.....but enjoy thiss.

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As Y/n revealed the harrowing truth about Mario's actions, the room seemed to grow heavier with the weight of the queenpin's painful past. Reneé, sensing the vulnerability behind Y/n's cold exterior, softly asked, "What did he do, Y/n?"

Y/n, her guard momentarily softened, opened up about the dark chapters of her life. "He assaulted me as a kid, behind my father's back. Many nights, I was like his toy," Y/n admitted, the pain and trauma of those memories etched in her eyes. "He not only stole a drug shipment worth 2 million but also took the life of one of my dealers."

Reneé, witnessing the shattered and broken side of Y/n, couldn't remain detached. The revelation had torn down the walls that Y/n had meticulously built around herself. Reneé, moved by compassion, closed the distance between them and gently wrapped her arms around the wounded queenpin.

In that moment, the room transformed into a sanctuary of solace, where vulnerability and strength coexisted in a fragile dance. Y/n, unaccustomed to such gestures of comfort, tensed for a moment before allowing herself to be enveloped in Reneé's embrace. The scent of Reneé's hair, the warmth of the hug, offered a respite from the cold reality of the world they inhabited.

Reneé, holding Y/n tightly, whispered words of comfort and solace. "You don't have to carry this burden alone, Y/n. I'm here for you," she assured, her voice a soothing balm for the wounds that ran deep.

Y/n, in that vulnerable moment, felt a connection that transcended the roles they played in the intricate chess game of power. The hug, an unexpected comfort, thawed the ice around Y/n's heart, allowing a sliver of humanity to surface.

As Reneé held Y/n, the two women found themselves entwined in a silent understanding, navigating the uncharted territories of compassion and connection.

As Reneé gently pulled away from the embrace, a tender vulnerability lingered in the air, creating an atmosphere that transcended the harsh realities of their respective worlds. Y/n, feeling an unfamiliar warmth emanating from within, found herself drawn to Reneé in a way that defied the carefully constructed boundaries she had erected.

In that delicate moment, Y/n's icy demeanor began to thaw. The silent exchange of emotions between the two women created an unspoken connection, one that surpassed the complexities of their roles in the criminal underworld. As Reneé started to withdraw, Y/n, compelled by an unforeseen force, leaned in and captured Reneé's lips in a gentle yet passionate kiss.

The room, once a witness to ruthless calculations and the echoes of a gunshot, now bore witness to a different kind of intensity. The kiss held a blend of longing, shared pain, and a burgeoning desire for connection. Y/n, usually guarded and unyielding, allowed herself to be swept away by the tender vulnerability that Reneé had awakened within her.

Reneé, initially taken aback by the unexpected kiss, soon surrendered to the moment, feeling a mutual spark that ignited between them. The magnetic pull between the queenpin and the singer seemed to defy the odds, forging a connection that went beyond the conventions of their tumultuous worlds.

Breaking away from the kiss, Y/n looked into Reneé's eyes, her own gaze a mix of uncertainty and something akin to relief. "I... I didn't plan that," Y/n admitted, her usual stoicism momentarily replaced by a flicker of genuine emotion.

Reneé, her eyes reflecting a newfound understanding, offered a soft smile. "Sometimes, the best things are the ones we don't plan," she replied, her fingers gently tracing the outline of Y/n's jaw.

In the aftermath of the unexpected kiss, a newfound vulnerability lingered between Y/n and Reneé. The air in the room felt charged with unspoken emotions, and Y/n, for the first time, seemed to shed the layers of her carefully crafted facade.

As Reneé gazed into Y/n's eyes, there was a palpable shift in the dynamics between them. Y/n, who had navigated the criminal underworld with ruthless precision, found herself on unfamiliar ground — a place where emotions were uncharted territory. Sensing the delicate nature of the moment, Y/n hesitated before finally breaking the silence.

"Stay with me," Y/n softly requested, her usually commanding voice now carrying a plea. "Sleep with me tonight."

Reneé, captivated by the vulnerability in Y/n's eyes, nodded in understanding. The tension that had defined their interactions seemed to dissolve, making room for a connection that transcended the roles they played in their contrasting worlds.

Y/n, embracing her newfound humanity, took a moment to gather her thoughts. "Reneé, I want you to be mine," she confessed, the admission laden with a mix of desire and an unexpected yearning for connection. The words, a departure from her usual stoicism, hung in the air, leaving room for Reneé to process the weight of their implications.

Reneé, surprised by the sincerity in Y/n's confession, felt a surge of emotions. "Yours?" she repeated, seeking clarity in the midst of the unexpected revelation.

Y/n, now exposed and stripped of her defenses, nodded affirmatively. "I want you to be mine, in every way," she clarified, her voice a blend of determination and vulnerability.

The room, witness to the complexities of their lives, now held the fragile essence of a moment that defied the harsh realities surrounding them. Y/n, who had been a force to be reckoned with in the criminal underworld, stood vulnerable before the singer who had, against all odds, cracked the icy exterior of her heart.

Reneé, contemplating the depth of Y/n's confession, reached out and gently cupped Y/n's cheek. "I never expected this," she admitted, her own emotions a mix of surprise and a growing affection for the enigmatic queenpin.

In the tender aftermath of their confessions, Reneé, moved by the sincerity in Y/n's eyes, leaned in and softly kissed the queenpin. The kiss held a promise, an acknowledgment of the unspoken connection that had blossomed between them. Y/n, unaccustomed to such vulnerability, gazed into Reneé's eyes, seeking affirmation.

"Is that a yes?" Y/n asked, her voice a delicate blend of uncertainty and hope.

Reneé, with a loving smile, nodded. "Yes," she whispered, sealing their unspoken agreement with another gentle kiss.

With a newfound understanding and acceptance, Y/n, still in a vulnerable state, yet emboldened by the connection they shared, made a heartfelt request. "Show me," she urged, her voice carrying a mix of longing and confidant vulnerability. "Make love to me, Reneé."

Reneé, captivated by the sincerity in Y/n's plea, felt a surge of affection for the queenpin who had bared her soul in ways unexpected. "And I want you to make love to me too," she responded, her eyes reflecting a genuine desire for a connection that transcended the complexities of their lives.

The room, once a witness to calculated decisions and the echoes of a gunshot, now stood as a sanctuary where the queenpin and the singer navigated the delicate dance of intimacy.

As the two women embraced their vulnerability, their bodies and hearts entwined, a quiet understanding filled the room. The connection they shared was a testament to the unexpected twists of fate, bringing together two souls from vastly different worlds.

In the ensuing moments, Y/n and Reneé explored the depths of their newfound connection. The room, once a battlefield, transformed into a haven where love, vulnerability, and desire converged in a dance that defied the harsh realities of their lives.

As the night unfolded, Y/n and Reneé discovered that, in each other, they had found a refuge — a sanctuary that offered solace and a respite from the complexities that defined their respective worlds. The queenpin and the singer, entwined in a journey of love and connection, embarked on a path that promised both peril and the potential for a different kind of salvation.

With Reneé's head resting on Y/n's bare chest, the queenpin gently brushed her hands through the soft strands of the singer's hair. The room, once witness to calculated decisions and fierce power struggles, now became a haven of intimacy and vulnerability.

In the quiet moments that followed, Y/n found herself opening up to Reneé in a way she had never done before. The confession about Mario's dark actions weighed heavy in the air, and Y/n, with a softened demeanor, began to share the painful chapters of her past.

"I was never loved as a kid," Y/n admitted, her voice carrying the weight of unspoken wounds. "Except by my father. He always loved me, treated me like his little girl." Y/n's fingers continued to soothe Reneé's hair as she spoke, the tender touch revealing a side of the queenpin rarely seen.

Her voice lowered to a hushed tone as she continued, "One night, Mario got into my room, and for years, he kept coming back. I wanted revenge for a long time, and tonight, out of anger and the need for retribution, I killed him."

Reneé, snuggling deeper into Y/n's embrace, listened with empathy and care. Her soft, sweet words wrapped around Y/n like a comforting blanket. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that," Reneé whispered, her voice a gentle caress in the stillness of the room.

Y/n, unaccustomed to such kindness and understanding, felt a warmth spread through her as Reneé offered a soothing balm to the wounds that had long been left unattended. In that vulnerable moment, Y/n found solace in the arms of the singer who had, against all odds, brought tenderness into her tumultuous world.

As Reneé nestled closer, Y/n, moved by the unexpected outpouring of care, pressed a soft kiss to the top of the singer's head. The room, now a cocoon of shared emotions, held the echoes of a connection that had transcended the boundaries of their contrasting lives.

The morning sun streamed through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room where Y/n and Reneé lay entwined. Reneé, still half-asleep, found herself spooning Y/n, her warmth a comforting presence against the queenpin's back.

The maid, entering the room with a practiced quietness, respectfully avoided eye contact with the two women as she opened the curtains. She understood the unspoken command of the morning – a rule set by Y/n, allowing privacy during these intimate moments.

With breakfast preparations underway, the maid discreetly left the room, closing the door behind her. Reneé, with a groggy morning voice that held a touch of playfulness, whispered a pet name for Y/n.

"Good morning, Queenie," Reneé murmured, her voice a soft caress that caused a fleeting tension in Y/n before she softened, captivated by the unexpected endearment.

Y/n, a master of composure, managed a subtle smile, acknowledging the sweetness of the pet name. "Good morning, Starlight," she responded, coining a term for Reneé that reflected the singer's radiant presence.

As the morning unfolded, Y/n, wanting to spend the day with Reneé, instructed the maid to convey the message to Micheal – canceling her schedule for the day. The maid, accustomed to these nuances, nodded and went about her tasks.

With the schedule cleared, Y/n turned her attention back to Reneé. "So, Starlight," Y/n began, adopting the nickname with a hint of amusement, "any preferences for breakfast?"

Reneé, still snuggled against Y/n, offered a sleepy smile. "Surprise me, Queenie," she playfully responded, the pet names becoming a shared language between them.

In the soft morning light, Y/n found herself drawn to Reneé, and with a tenderness that defied the harsh realities of their worlds, she pressed a loving kiss to the singer's lips. The kiss, a silent promise of a connection that was still unfolding, held a warmth that resonated deep within Y/n.

Reneé, reciprocating the affection, felt a soft spot growing within her for the enigmatic drug queen. The complexities of Y/n's life, juxtaposed with the sincerity of the moments they shared, created a unique tapestry of emotions that Reneé found herself navigating with both curiosity and genuine affection.

As their lips parted, Y/n gazed into Reneé's eyes, a subtle vulnerability lingering in the depth of her icy gaze. "Starlight," Y/n murmured, using the playful nickname that had become a shared secret between them, "I didn't expect you to have such an effect on me."

Reneé, her eyes reflecting a mixture of playfulness and genuine emotion, teased, "Who would have thought the queenpin had a soft spot?"

Y/n, allowing a rare glimpse of vulnerability, admitted, "Maybe you're the exception to the rule."

Their playful banter, punctuated by moments of unspoken connection, created a delicate dance between two souls navigating uncharted territory. The room, once a battlefield and witness to ruthless decisions, now became a sanctuary where Y/n and Reneé explored the contours of a connection that defied expectations.

As the morning unfolded, the queenpin and the singer found themselves caught in a web of emotions, where the boundaries between their roles blurred, revealing the humanity that resided beneath the layers of power and secrecy. In each other's presence, they discovered a refuge, a respite from the chaos of their respective worlds.

The day, now a canvas painted with shared laughter, whispered endearments, and stolen glances, promised a journey of unexpected twists and turns.

After their shared morning intimacy, Y/n and Reneé decided to spend the day in the comfort of Y/n's luxurious mansion. Reneé, still wrapped in the warmth of Y/n's embrace, mentioned her plan to work on some songs.

"Maybe I'll write a few songs today," Reneé said with a soft smile, her eyes reflecting a creative spark.

Y/n, enjoying the idea of a laid-back day, suggested, "How about we have a comfy day in? You can work on your songs, and I might catch up on some work on my laptop."

With an agreement in place, they both got up, changing into sweatpants and comfortable tops. Making their way to the dining area, Y/n instructed the maid to prepare a light breakfast. The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as they settled in for a cozy morning.

As they finished breakfast, Y/n retrieved her laptop, and Reneé gathered her songwriting materials. They reconvened in the living room, where Y/n claimed a spot on the couch, and Reneé positioned herself on the floor with her piano in front and scattered papers containing forming lyrics.

The room, adorned with opulent furnishings and guarded by the ever-watchful Brutus, now transformed into a creative haven. Y/n, usually a force in the criminal underworld, found solace in the tranquility of the moment – a departure from the chaos that defined her daily life.

Reneé, fingers dancing on the piano keys, began to craft melodies that echoed the emotions hidden within her. Y/n, engrossed in her work on the laptop, periodically stole glances at the singer, captivated by the passion that radiated from her.

Occasionally, their eyes would meet, sharing a silent understanding that transcended the boundaries of their disparate worlds. Y/n, amidst the intricate dance of crime and power, found an unexpected reprieve in the melody that accompanied Reneé's songwriting process.

As the day unfolded, the mansion became a sanctuary where creativity and the unspoken connection between Y/n and Reneé flourished.

As the melodies flowed from Reneé's fingertips, intertwining with the lyrical tapestry she wove, Y/n couldn't help but be intrigued. The atmosphere in the room shifted, becoming charged with the emotional currents of Reneé's songwriting process.

Curiosity piqued, Y/n looked up from her laptop and asked, "Can I hear the song?"

Reneé nodded, her fingers gracefully navigating the piano keys, bringing forth the hauntingly beautiful notes of her latest creation. The lyrics, a raw and honest exploration of the complexities within her, echoed through the room:

"Don't know why but I like that You think I'm so laid back Made you believe it, is that cheating? And you love that I move fast You don't notice one red flag 'Cause on the surface I'm too perfect Trust me as soon as you go I'll make fake scenarios Where I say, 'I love you,' you say, 'Gross' That leads to crying in the grocery store Man, I miss my bathroom floor No dirty looks from the moms in aisle four"

Y/n listened intently, drawn into the honesty of the lyrics. Reneé's voice, a poignant vehicle for her emotions, carried the weight of the song's message. The room seemed to hold its breath as the melody continued, capturing the essence of a love that, though messy, remained compelling:

"I know you just met me And right now you got nothing against me But I know how to make myself crazy Loving me gets messy, messy It gets messy Half of all my exes regret me But none of them will ever forget me Loving me gets really messy"

The vulnerability in Reneé's voice resonated with Y/n, who found herself captivated by the honesty of the lyrics. The dichotomy between Reneé's public persona and the revelations in her song created a connection that transcended the boundaries of their contrasting worlds.

The final notes lingered in the air, leaving an indelible mark on the room. Y/n, momentarily caught in the emotional aftermath, broke the silence, "That was powerful, Reneé. Your music tells stories that go beyond the surface. It's a rare glimpse into the messy, beautiful truth."

Embraced by the echoes of the song's emotional resonance, Reneé rose from her position by the piano and gracefully moved towards Y/n. She looked at Y/n with a tender expression and asked, "Mind if I cuddle up with you?"

Y/n, whose usually stoic demeanor had softened during the intimate moment, smiled warmly. "Of course, Reneé. Make yourself comfortable."

As Reneé settled into the crook of Y/n's arm, a subtle smile tugging at her lips, Y/n felt an unfamiliar warmth. The drug queen, known for her calculated and ruthless exterior, allowed herself a moment of vulnerability in the presence of the captivating singer.

Micheal, the trusted right hand of Y/n, caught her eyes and couldn't help but chuckle softly. The sight of the usually unyielding queenpin displaying a gentler side was a rare occurrence, and it amused him. He maintained his watchful stance, ensuring the safety of his charge even in moments of unexpected tenderness.

The room, filled with the afterglow of Reneé's song and the unexpected intimacy between the two women, carried an atmosphere of quiet comfort. The dogs, ever-loyal companions, observed the scene with watchful eyes, sensing the unique connection forming between their owner and the mesmerizing singer.

Reneé, her head resting against Y/n's chest, felt the rhythmic beat of the queenpin's heart. Y/n, lost in the tenderness of the moment, gently brushed her fingers through Reneé's hair, a subtle acknowledgment of the connection that had quietly woven itself between them.

It was a tableau of contrasts – the powerful drug queen finding solace in the vulnerability of a quiet embrace. In that moment, the lines between their worlds blurred, and for the first time, Y/n allowed herself to savor the simplicity of human connection.

As the day unfolded, the mansion witnessed a narrative of unexpected emotions, where the queenpin and the songstress discovered a delicate balance between their disparate lives.

As the evening shadows stretched across the luxurious mansion, Roberto, a trusted member of Y/n's inner circle, approached the couple with a grave expression. He informed them of Kevin's betrayal – the audacity of one of Y/n's higher-ranked helpers attempting to sell her drugs independently.

Y/n's cold demeanor solidified as she received the news, her icy gaze narrowing at the breach of loyalty. "Kevin," she muttered, the name leaving a bitter taste. "Bring him to me."

Reneé, sensing the tension in the air, asked, "Can I come too? I want to be with you, Y/n."

Y/n hesitated, a conflict evident in her eyes. The criminal underworld she navigated was harsh, and she often shielded those she cared about from its darker facets. "Reneé, this isn't something you should be involved in. I don't want to taint your world with mine."

Reneé, however, stood her ground, determination in her eyes. "Y/n, I'm your girlfriend now. Your life is my life, and I want to be there for you, no matter what."

Y/n regarded Reneé, a mixture of gratitude and concern flickering in her gaze. Despite the cold exterior, there was a vulnerability that Reneé had tapped into, a part of Y/n's heart that she hadn't allowed anyone else to see.

As they made their way to the room where Kevin was being held, the tension in the air grew thicker. Y/n's bodyguards and Roberto formed a protective barrier around the queenpin and the singer, their loyalty unwavering.

Inside the dimly lit room, Kevin stood, visibly nervous and regretful. Y/n's expression remained stern, devoid of the warmth she had shown earlier. Reneé, standing by Y/n's side, felt the weight of the situation but remained resolute.

Y/n addressed Kevin with a cold and measured tone, "Explain yourself, Kevin."

Kevin stuttered through an explanation, attempting to justify his actions. Y/n listened without a hint of emotion, her mind calculating the repercussions of this betrayal.

Kevin's attempt at justifying his actions took a sharp turn when he made a snarky comment about Reneé being Y/n's girlfriend. The dimly lit room became charged with tension as Y/n's demeanor shifted from stern to something far more dangerous.

Y/n, normally composed and controlled, felt a surge of protectiveness toward Reneé. Her eyes turned icy, a deadly calm settling over her as she approached Kevin with purpose. The air crackled with an unspoken warning, and the bodyguards braced themselves for whatever might transpire.

"Watch your words, Kevin," Y/n said, her voice low and controlled, carrying a dangerous undercurrent. "You might be in deep trouble, but disrespecting someone I care about won't make it any better for you."

Reneé, standing beside Y/n, felt a mixture of unease and admiration for the queenpin's unwavering defense. Kevin, now realizing the gravity of his comment, swallowed nervously but attempted to maintain a façade of arrogance.

"Oh, look at that – the queenpin has a soft spot," Kevin sneered, attempting to provoke a reaction.

Y/n's response was swift and unexpected. In a split second, she closed the distance between them, her hand gripping Kevin's collar with a vice-like grip. The atmosphere in the room became charged with palpable tension as Y/n's deadly calm collided with Kevin's arrogance.

"Listen carefully, Kevin," Y/n spoke, her words cutting through the air like a blade. "Disrespecting Reneé or anyone close to me is a mistake you won't live to regret. Your fate is in my hands now, and trust me, I don't take such matters lightly."

The room fell silent, the weight of Y/n's words hanging in the air. Kevin, now stripped of his arrogance, stammered in an attempt to apologize. Y/n released her grip on him, a silent warning echoing in the aftermath.

Reneé, though unsettled by the intensity of the moment, couldn't help but feel a profound connection to Y/n. The queenpin's protectiveness and resolve painted a picture of a complex and enigmatic woman, one who navigated a world of shadows with unwavering strength.

The room plunged into an eerie silence as Y/n, having delivered her warning to Kevin, turned around and walked away with an air of indifference. The subdued lighting cast shadows across the walls, creating an atmosphere of suspense that hung heavy in the air.

Without a second glance, Y/n reached into the folds of her elegant attire, retrieving a gleaming knife with an expert flick of her wrist. The deadly weapon twirled in her fingers as if an extension of her own lethal grace. The bodyguards in the room maintained a stoic demeanor, their loyalty and obedience unwavering in the face of their queenpin's actions.

As Y/n walked away from Kevin, the tension in the room escalated. Reneé, witnessing the cold, calculated side of the woman she had grown closer to, felt a mix of emotions – shock, awe, and a tinge of fear. It was a stark reminder of the dark world Y/n navigated, a world where betrayals were met with swift and unforgiving consequences.

In one fluid motion, without breaking her stride, Y/n flung the knife towards Kevin. The blade sailed through the air with deadly accuracy, finding its mark in the traitor's heart. The room erupted into chaos as Kevin crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath.

Y/n, still walking away, cast a nonchalant glance over her shoulder. "You should've thought twice, Kevin," she remarked, her voice carrying an unsettling calmness that resonated with the finality of the act. The gravity of the moment lingered in the air, a chilling testament to the ruthlessness woven into the fabric of Y/n's existence.

Reneé, despite the shock, couldn't help but be drawn to the enigmatic woman before her. Y/n's actions, while brutal, reflected the harsh reality of the world she inhabited. As the bodyguards swiftly attended to the aftermath, Y/n's silhouette disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind a trail of uncertainty and a lingering question in Reneé's mind – how deep was she willing to venture into this perilous dance with the queenpin?

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