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miguelhugger2099 · 8 months ago

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Hello sweetie, hoping you're doing well! What about bully punk Miguel and nerd pastel girl reader at college? (Miguel with 23 and reader with 21) Like reader was ugly and will have a glow up thanks to MJ and now Miguel tries to have her attention, they have a date and sweet and fluff smut!! (reader is virgin uwu) I'll let to you the creativity

Impurities

hello sweetheart you absolute DARLING i genuinely could be better but i hope ur doing great. i want to apologize for taking so long but i want u to know when i saw this i just about melted bc punk miguel is one of my guilty pleasures i adore him so much. this ask made me want to evolve it into a series i had like several different ways to make this but ahhhh i hope it's alright

Punk!Miguel x Pastel!Reader, Fluff and Smut, Word Count: 8,875 Art by: beawoodward on artstation !

You knew you weren’t the most appealing girl out there. You weren’t about to delude yourself otherwise. You knew what people said about you, how they looked at you. Your face could’ve been worse. Maybe some bushy eyebrows? You dressed…maybe a little different than most people. While the world was covered in grays and black, you opted out by showering yourself in the cutest pastel colors. You didn’t keep up with the trends and instead followed whatever you thought looked alright. It often led to some mismatching and awkward outfits but you didn’t think so! You entered campus with a light blue and pink striped pants with a pink belt and a baby blue sweater. Two low braids tied with white ribbons at the end and your white framed glasses on the bridge of your nose. Skincare was confusing to you so all you really did was wash your face with a harsh cleanser and hoped for the best which gave you some acne instead–making you pop them and leave some scars. You tried makeup but it just looked cakey so you settled with a messy and often uneven eyeliner. Regardless of your outfit, whether in a skirt or in pants, you were always decked out in some bright pastel colors and hair done in the same two braids. You held yourself close while walking around the halls, already used to people staring and calling you names from high school. College was a little more merciful, the whispers being just as loud but at least they’d never bully you to your face. You win some, you lose some. Your self-esteem had been damaged to the point of no return anyway, so any attempts of trying to prove you’re worth something would just be a pipe dream in your eyes. That’s why you push your glasses up and cling to your shoulder bag tightly in your fist as you pass by the usual group of boys to get to the front seat of your class. Your human biology class door was opened at the back so you’d have to pass the back seats to sit at the front. As usual, the group of boys were basically monochrome except for the little specks of red or blue if they ever decided to add color. But what was most noticeable about them was the so-called leader of said group. Unofficial–official– leader Miguel O’Hara, the senior who decided to take general education classes in his last year before graduating. His usual confident and toothy grin was on display, silver spider bites that his, also pierced, tongue would often play with. His big and heavy platform boots would rest on the chair beside him while his left elbow rested on the table, his hand combing through his long brown hair–shaved at the sides, mind you. He made sure to push his fringe back so everyone could see his double eyebrow and nostril piercing. Miguel’s hands were decorated with rings, big and small and his nails were short and painted black with some of it chipping off. His usual leather jacket with pins and patches, stretched and tight from his muscular build, was accompanied by a low red tank top with a spider symbol on the front. Black skinny jeans and a spiked belt that did little to actually keep his pants in place since the black and red band of his boxers were showing.

He listened mindlessly to his group of friends as they talked with each other, his fingers switching between playing with the dangling earring on his earlobe to his industrial bar. His crimson eyes glanced up when he saw you in your uncomfortably bright and awkward fashion sense. His friend tapped his shoulder and jutted his chin out to you before whispering something in Miguel’s ear that made him shove him away with a smile. Then they both laughed as quietly as possible, chuckling at what you decided to wear today: light blue overall shorts and a pastel yellow undershirt with white knee high stockings and white sneakers, your usual white ribbons at the end of your braids.

You usually sat alone at the front, placing your earbuds in to listen to music while you waited for the professor. Despite being at the front, you could still hear some faint chuckling and words being whispered from Miguel's group.

Still, you held your head up, taking out your notebook and expensive textbook. Clicking your pen, you began some light note taking before class started.

You sighed as you entered back in your dorm, dumping your bag at the door and kicking off your shoes. You faceplated down onto your bed while your roommate MJ looked over at you sympathetically.

You turn your head, cheek squished against the mattress. “I know that beauty is subjective and I'm not supposed to earn validation from anybody else but…” You sit up and rest on your legs, hands wringing in your hands with furrowed eyebrows.

“But…I want to feel pretty.” You admit softly, ashamed since you felt like you were betraying yourself.

MJ's smile grows and she eagerly jumps from her bed to kneel at your bedside. She takes your hands in hers and squeezes them reassuringly.

“You are pretty,” She insists. “But if you really want help, I can.” MJ tilts your head to look at her, a soft smile on her face.

You nod. “I do. I just want to know how to look like you.”

MJ shakes her head. “No. No, you already have your own beauty.” She places a hand on her chest. “I meant that I can help enhance it. No change to your core is necessary.” She pokes at your chest playfully and you both giggle together.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

You take a moment to look at her. MJ really was perfect–shiny straight red hair, clear skin that was painted with freckles and a winning white smile. You hoped she could work some magic on you.

“Okay.”

Your transformation didn't happen overnight. It took at least a few weeks for it all to come together.

MJ had dragged you to salons to get your hair properly taken care of. Gotten your eyebrows plucked, eyelashes lifted, an effective skincare routine–that you struggled to drill into your regular schedule–and a new wardrobe that still held your pastel look, just a little more flattering. She even helped you get some contact lenses so you wouldn’t need your glasses all the time! To tie it all together, you two spent nights practicing how to do your makeup that wouldn't look so wobbly and uneven. Each day, you improved yourself. Your tacky overalls changed into fitted jeans or flowy skirts. Your baggy shirts were now cute tops that hugged each curve. Tennis shoes into heels or cute sneakers and your hair came to life with a beautiful shine; your white ribbon still in your hair.

One day, you entered class like normal. Except there were very few whispers this time, almost nonexistent. Still, you don’t let it get to you and continue like normal–walking to the front of the class and sitting in your usual spot. What wasn’t normal was a figure coming up beside you and pulling out the chair next to you. Miguel slipped beside you in front of the class, tilting his head as he stared at your side profile. You tried not to react but you subconsciously glanced at him from the corner of your eye.

“Hey.” He smirked, his eyebrow raising and his lips curling.

“Hello.” You murmured back, opening your notebook to the next blank page.

“New look?” He asked, using his hand to brush your hair back off your shoulder and you stiffened. He noticed you still had the white ribbon at the back of your head. Miguel’s eyes glanced back down at your body. Nicely fitted flare baby blue jeans, a cute pastel green heart belt with a crop top white sweater.

“Looks good.” He purred. You held your blue bunny pen in your hand tightly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You didn’t understand why he was speaking to you. He hadn’t before–other than laugh at you–so what gives?

“Thanks.” You say curtly. Miguel places a hand over her heart in feign hurt.

“Don’t be like that, nena. You look so cute, I didn’t expect you to be so cold.” He teased. He crossed his arms and rested his head on them to look up at you while you wrote the rest of your notes down before class started. Miguel watched as your false eyelashes fluttered, making your eyes look bigger. The subtle blush on your cheeks and the concealer that hid most of your past acne. He could still see some of the scars which makes him huff a small laugh at how cute it kinda looks. Your lips were more plump than he remembered–a soft pink to them. He lifts his arm up to rest his cheek on his fist, his eyes still on you. “How about I take you out?” Your pen slips and leaves a slash right down your notes. “What?” “A date. Does that sound good?” You don’t look up, instead focusing on your task at hand. “No. Can you please just leave me alone?” Miguel doesn’t say anything else but you hear the chair he sat on scrape across the floor as he gets up abruptly. You hear the laughter of his friends behind you and Miguel snapping at them. Your shoulders hunch over–the natural instinct to hide from embarrassment overcoming you again.

Every week, in the same class, Miguel would try again and again and again to ask you out. Each time, you would decline. It had gotten bad enough where he changed his seat to move beside you, offering his help when he saw you were confused and overall just trying to get on your good side. You wanted to be strong, truly you did, but it was becoming too much. When Miguel had asked again, you sighed loudly and faced him. “If I say yes will you leave me alone?” Miguel broke into a wide smile. Once you finally agreed to a date with him, you truly weren’t expecting anything good. So you stood by the place Miguel wanted you to meet him at: a local diner that was pleasantly pretty looking from the outside. Still, due to your past experiences of being ghosted and stood up, you watched the time on your phone. You decided that you wouldn’t wait more than fifteen minutes max.

To your surprise, you didn’t have to wait at all. You heard Miguel call your name from your left, his lips curled into a confident smile. Subconsciously, you eyed him up and down. He had baggy black cargo pants, accompanied with chains on his right side. A DIY-ed t-shirt that was sprayed painted over many many times. Of course, his iconic leather jacket was littered with various pins and patches. When he was close enough, you saw just a bit of eyeliner surrounding his eyes; and a new septum piercing. For the people passing by, it was quite a sight to see. Compared to Miguel’s dark but proud aura, you emanated a more sweet and bright vibe. MJ had helped you pick out an outfit, excited that you approached her with the dilemma of going on a date. You wore a sheer baby blue crop top cardigan with a simple white tank top underneath. A slightly darker blue pleated skirt with white thigh high stockings and ankle strap baby blue platform pumps. You held a small purse in your hands and looked up at him through your lashes. Your hair was pinned in a half up and half down hairstyle; your white ribbon at the back of your head. You thought it was a bit much, but MJ assured you that it was just enough. “Te ves muy hermosa.” Miguel speaks up, a grin on his lips. “All for me?” He teases with a tilt of his head. A piece of his fringe falling over his forehead. “Oh, please.” You look off to the side, ignoring the flutter in your chest when called beautiful. Miguel doesn’t take it to heart, instead going past you to open the door of the diner. He dramatically takes a bow, his arm ushering you inside. The theatrics make the corner of your lips quirk up and you enter inside, nodding to Miguel. You turn your head around to see the inside, wooden chairs and tables, a jukebox at the back with a shiny bar. “This way.” You stiffen when you feel Miguel’s breath by your ear. Before you could turn, he places his hand on your lower back and leads you to a booth by the window. He sits across from you, menus at the ready on the table. “You know, I used to come to this place all the time.” Miguel says, his eyes scanning the different options. “Used to be a hangout spot for me and the others in high school. College took up my time so it’s a pain in the ass not being able to visit more.” You glance up at him, shuffling in your seat. It felt a little weird to have him speak to you like this, as if he wasn’t teasing you a few months ago.

Luckily, a waitress comes up before you two with a notepad in hand. “Oh! A pretty girl! Didn’t know you were back in the dating scene.” She cackles to herself and pushes her glasses up. Miguel groans and rolls his eyes. “I thought you didn’t work Fridays, Lyla.” “Margo couldn’t make it, I needed extra hours–and now a bonus– I get to embarrass you. Everybody wins! Except you maybe. Waddaya want?” Lyla rests on one foot, her grin plastered on her face. Miguel’s smile was long gone, now snapping his order at his friend. You watched with an amused smile. They bantered like siblings. But what she said piqued your interest. He hadn’t gone around dating? You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Miguel call your name. His eyes were uncharacteristically soft. “Do you need another minute?” He asks. You stumble over your words and feel your cheeks burn. “No-no, uhm…” You look down at your menu and pick the first thing you see. “The, uh, chicken fajitas, please?” Lyla meets you with a smile and collects your menu. “Of course, darling.” She turns to take Miguel’s menu. “Couldn’t you have taken her to a nicer place? She’s all dolled up.” Lyla sticks her tongue out at him and walks away while Miguel’s cheeks burn red. Instead of facing you, he looks down at his hands and he picks at his black nail polish.

For once, Miguel had stayed silent. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he looked a little ashamed? Embarrassed? You could see him moving his spider bites nervously as he stares at anything besides you, his cheeks still tinged red. You pat your skirt awkwardly and clear your throat. “The…I like the diner. It’s got one of those retro vibes to it. It’s cool.” You give a small encouraging smile. For some strange reason, you thought his quietness didn’t suit him. Miguel’s eyes dart to yours and then at the window. “You think?” His hand reaches up to play with his dangling earring. It was almost cute. Just a bit. You chuckle softly. “Yeah, I mean. It’s like being in one of those time machines.” Miguel smiles. “Time machines? I think a time machine would look cooler than this dump.” You playfully smack his hand across the table. “Didn’t you say you used to come here years ago? Don’t call it a dump.” You fold your arms on your chest. You didn’t know this, but Miguel in that moment felt the tension he didn’t realize he had fell off his shoulders. “Eh, it’s a little bit of a dump.” He leans back and stretches his arm on the backseat. “But it’s like you said: a little retro.” Lyla returns with two glasses of water. “One for the cutie,” she places one on your side, giving you a wink. “And then Miguel.” She unenthusiastically hands Miguel the cup.

Miguel frowns at Lyla, a familiar bubble of jealousy brewing in his chest. “Lyla.” He warns. “What?” She stretches out the word. “Just being a good hostess.” She huffs with a pout and walks away. You giggle to yourself and Miguel notices. He’s quick to speak. “Ignore her. She’s always trying to be annoying.” He didn’t like the way Lyla was buttering you up, even if it was just a joke. He wanted you to smile at him like that. “It’s funny. I never thought I’d see you looking so bothered. How do you know her?” You smile and take a sip from your water. Miguel scratches the back of his head. “Middle school. We were in the robotics club.” You blink. “Robotics club? Really?” “Why’re you so surprised? What? A guy like me can’t be into things like that?” He smirks, placing his arms on the table and his pins rattle as he moves. “Well…kind of?” You smile weakly and laugh when Miguel pretends to be hit. “No, but seriously, robotics isn’t what I expected from you.” “Well, it was middle school. I’ve grown up into a man. This time I’ve taken an interest in being a geneticist.” He rests his head on his hand. “Don’t judge a book by its cover, nena.” He teases but you pause. That phrase is a little ironic for him to say, you thought to yourself. Shaking off that feeling, you continued to chat with Miguel. Talking about your interests, past, future and current studies. All while Miguel would try to sneak little touches, whether it be his boot tapping your heel or his hand brushing against yours when handing you a bottle of ketchup. After spending enough time at the diner, the sun was beginning to set. Before you left, Lyla convinced you to convince Miguel to give her a big tip and told you she hopes to see you again in different circumstances. Miguel holds the door open for you again and the bell dings your departure from the diner. His fingertips gently brush against yours, catching your attention.

“There’s…there’s this other place I wanna show you.” He bites his lip, peeling off the skin. His index finger loosely wraps around your pinky. “Sure…” You say hesitantly. He notices your hesitance. “It’s nearby. Just for a little bit and I’ll take you home.” The wind breezes through, giving you a glimpse of the cool air that will befall once nighttime arrives. You shiver and tuck into yourself to hide from the wind. Miguel takes off his jacket and slips it around you. Feeling the heavy material on your shoulders, you look up at him and feel the warmth go around your torso. Miguel’s eyes are focused on making sure it’s snug as it can be. It’s so large that it ends around your midthigh. He takes your little purse and pops the collar of his jacket up. “Put your arms through the sleeves so it doesn’t fall.” You blink and do as he says with a flustered expression. While shuffling your arms through the holes, you try not to glance over at him. His t-shirt was cut at the sleeves that showed off his toned arms. Despite the cold approaching, he seemed to be relaxed as he watched you, making sure you stayed warm. “Good?” He asked. Your fingers barely poked out, his jacket covering most of your outfit. And it was warm. It smelled like him.

With a satisfied smile, he slyly takes your hand in his and leads you away. You try not to focus too hard on the way his hand engulfs yours. After following Miguel in twists and turns, you eventually walk up a hill and at the very top stood a single bench with a view of the entirety of Nueva York. Your eyes widened and you let go of his hand to approach near the ledge, placing your hands on the railing. The lights of the city illuminated the night sky and acted as stars. You saw them twinkle along with hover cars that zoomed past you. “This is…” “Where I planned to take you another day. But Lyla pissed me off and I wanted to prove that I could take you somewhere nice.” He comes behind you and slings an arm around your waist. You look up at him with an amused smile. “Did you really take that to heart?” Miguel pouts his lips, his eyes looking off to the side. “I couldn’t let her make me look stupid in front of you.” You laugh, using the sleeves of his jacket to cover your smile. Miguel sees and he has a faint smile of his own on his face. He leads you back to the bench where you two sit in quiet comfortable silence after an afternoon of learning about one another. As you look over at the city with him, you couldn’t help but notice the nagging feeling in your chest. This was a date. A date that only happened because you changed yourself. A date with the person who laughed at you.

“Hey, Miguel?” You speak up quietly. He hums and looks over at you. “I…I don’t want you to be nice to me just because I got a little…prettier.” Miguel looks down at you with a frown. He stuffs his hands in his pockets while he looks back at the skyline. He says your name softly to grab your attention. “I’m not being nice just because you’re pretty.” You scrunch your eyebrows and scoff. “Yeah, I’m sure all those times you laughed at me was just you being a charmer.” “Laugh at you?” He raises his eyebrows and you look away. “Nena, I wasn’t laughing at you.” “Don’t lie to me, Miguel. I’m used to it. No use in sparing my feelings.” You sigh. “But I wasn’t,” He insists. He wants to reach for your hand, to touch you but he stops himself. “Really, I was…admiring you.” You roll your eyes. “Now you’re really being a jerk. There was nothing to admire when I looked…stupid and ugly.” “You did not.” He turned you to face him by turning your chin softly. “So you’re saying the way I looked before wasn’t stupid?” You glare at him but Miguel can’t find it in him to take it badly. “You were cute. The way you dressed and looked, it was awkward–sure–but it was adorable.” He chuckles but your frown deepens, feeling the tears bubble up in your eyes as you turn away from him. Miguel calls your name again. “I’m the last person to judge anyone for how they dress. Look at me.” Miguel flicks his multiple ear piercings, pulls on his snake bites, stretches his tattered and ruined t-shirt and slams his dirty platform boots to the ground. “A freak. You were just a cuter version.” “Then why did you talk to me now?” You murmur.

“Because you suddenly changed. I wanted to know what was up.” “And…the sudden date?” “Your transformation gave me the courage to speak to you. It was my chance–an excuse to talk to you.” Miguel says softly. “Though you did reject me twelve times. I was starting to lose hope.” “It was not twelve times.” “It felt like twelve times.” “...You have to admit that I’m…much more appealing now than I was before.” Miguel sighs. “Nena, the only thing different about you is clear skin and some clothes. Everything else is still you. You were pretty underneath, you just enhanced it. At your core, you’re still you. Bright and colorful.” He bumps your shoulder. You smile shyly and look in your lap. “MJ said something similar.” “MJ?” “My roommate. She helped me with, y’know, everything.” It was still hard to believe. Over two decades of being told otherwise was not going to go away by a single conversation but it still warmed your heart to hear something positive about you for once. You don’t say anything else and Miguel takes his chance to wrap his arm around you, bringing you to his chest. With flushed cheeks, you look out into the open where the skyline is feeling at peace and just a little pretty.

You two had arrived at your dorm and you faced Miguel shyly. Your eyes looked at the ground as you felt your cheeks heat up. “This is my place.” You state and Miguel chuckles, the sound of it sending your heart pumping. “I see that.” He says, taking a step toward you which makes you take a step back. “I had fun.” You whisper softly, your eyes landing on his chest. You see Miguel’s hand lift up to your chin and make you look into his eyes. Your cheeks burn since he keeps his hand on your chin to make sure you wouldn’t look away. “Me too.” He murmured, his red eyes looking like they turned a darker shade when he glanced at your lips. He takes another step towards you and you take another step back. You feel your head hit the door and realize you’re now trapped between it and him.

You hold your breath and can only feel the pounding of your heart in your chest and Miguel’s calloused fingers holding you still. Miguel then uses his other hand to hold your hip, his thumb trying to slide under your tank top. Your hands raise up to hold onto his biceps, shivering when your skin meets his. He was warm. “I…kind of don’t want this to end.” You admit softly. Miguel’s grin grows wider, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek which makes you weak in the knees. “Then it doesn’t have to, muñequita.” His hand leaves your chin to cup your cheek. He glances up above your head. “Your roommate home?” He asks. Your eyes never leave his face, your pupils dilating and a weird feeling starting to brew in your stomach. “No,” You squeak out and he looks back down at you. “She’s–She’s, um, out with her boyfriend.” Miguel hums, another glance to your lips. “Then…will you invite me inside?” He asks, leaning down so his lips just barely graze yours. Not quite a kiss yet. Your breath hitches and you nod a few times before speaking. “Mhm, okay.” You reach your hand behind you to grab the doorknob and twist it open. You stumble backwards but Miguel quickly wraps his arm that was on your hip around your waist. He then makes you walk backwards while he could shut the door behind him. You had your arms around his neck and looked up with wide eyes and a fast paced heartbeat. Miguel huffs out a chuckle. “You okay?” “Mhm!” You squeak. He squints down at you in playful suspicion but brushes it off. He bends down to where his lips brush yours again and finally dips low enough to kiss you. Your first shared kiss. You stumble with how to kiss, especially when the other person has piercings, but with someone like Miguel, you quickly learn and get the hang of it. Soft kissing noises sound between the small space of you two and he gradually moves from your lips to your cheek and down your neck. His arms around your waist tug you closer, bending you back and he moves you further back to where your calves hit the mattress of your bed. One hand rises up to pull his leather jacket off your shoulder, gently nibbling across your skin before reverting back to your throat. With his lips on your neck, Miguel could feel your pulse going wild, heartbeat going crazy each second. He decides to check in. “You okay?” he murmurs with a smile, his lips finding yours again for quick kisses. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve just–” kiss “Just–” kiss “Y’know, never–” kiss, kiss “Done this before.” He pauses, stiffening before he pulls back. “Wait. Are you saying this would be your first time…having sex?” Your heart sinks. That was bad wasn’t it? “No, it’s not bad.” Miguel shakes his head. You didn’t realize you voiced your concerns. “I’m just surprised, is all. Usually people have done it already.” You look away from him, visibly uncomfortable that he’s lowkey making fun of you. Miguel realizes the damage and quickly tries to fix it. “But there’s nothing wrong with it, nena! I didn’t mean–” He sighs, scratching the back of his neck. He looks around your dorm room. Your side is filled with cute things like plushies and fluffy blankets–a strawberry duvet all in the same hue of pastels.

“Look. We don’t have to do anything. I don’t…want to make it seem like I’m only here for that.” He shrugs his leather jacket back on your shoulder. “Because I do like you, nena. I’m willing to wait or if you never want it then it’s whatever. I just would really like a second date at least. Maybe at a nicer place like what Lyla said. Maybe I could clean myself up.” He gives you a weary smile. You stare at his hands that hold onto the zipper part of his leather jacket. For a while, you don’t say anything. “What if I don’t want to wait.” You mumble. You look up with some determination on your face. “I…I want to. With you.” Miguel takes his hands off you. “Wh–Are…are you sure?” You slip his jacket off you and let it fall to the side, stripping off the first piece of clothing from yourself. Your mouth is tight, heart hammering in your chest and cheeks feeling that familiar prick of heat up your neck but you’re sure of yourself. You want this. Miguel rakes his eyes up and down your body as you stand before him. “Alright.” He breathes out, undeniably attracted to you at this moment. “But this will all be at your pace, okay? I’ll make you feel good.” He purrs resting his hands at your hips and your facade crumbles slowly and you get shy again. He sits you down on your bed and he kneels before you, his hands on your thighs. He takes your right foot in his hands and carefully unbuckles the ankle strap of your pumps and slides it off. You cover your mouth, heart pounding at the intimate yet innocent act of him taking off your heels. He does the same with your other heel and sets it to the side.

Miguel then looks up at you from his lashes, his confident ones meeting your bashful ones. Taking your right leg again, he slips your thigh high stocking off you and does the same for your other leg. He places his hands on your knees and slowly spreads your legs apart to give you time to stop him. You don’t. “Come closer, mami.” He murmurs, sliding his hands up to grip the flesh of your thighs. You let out a weak mewl and scoot closer to the edge of your bed. Miguel bunches your skirt up, groaning and feeling his cock twitch in his pants when his eyes land on your pastel pink panties, a sweet little bow in the middle like you were a present for him. “Tan bella,” He murmurs, unable to hide the utter desire he has for you. You cover your face in embarrassment as he spreads your legs wider. His lips graze over your thighs, pressing kisses as he makes his way up. You feel your heart skip a beat everytime you feel his warm breath. Your hands clutch your strawberry sheets and he notices.

“You can hold onto me, mami.” He purrs and you swallow the lump in your throat.

“Wha…how do I..?” You feel stupid, your hands raising up and unsure of where exactly to put them. Miguel takes your hands and places him in his hair. His fingers curl around yours so you could grip onto his strands.

Feeling your face burn, the sight of you holding onto him while his eyes bore into yours. You instinctively clench your fists, his hair being tugged on in the process which makes him groan and close in his eyes. He likes a bit of pain, it seems

Miguel's hands return to your thighs, wrapping his arms underneath to tug you closer to his awaiting mouth and to keep your legs apart. “Hips up, mama.” He purrs and you do as he says, making him slip your panties off.

He discards them off to the side and delves between your thighs. His nose nudges your nub and you gasp, pursing your lips and gripping tighter on his hair.

“Miguel!” You whimper and he hums in response. You feel the metal ball of his tongue piercing curl inside you–it was strangely pleasurable. You didn’t expect it to feel so good. You rest on one hand behind you, the other still planted in his hair as you bucked forward on his tongue. Miguel the munch that he is, grins against your folds and licks a long stripe up before spitting and devouring your sweet nectar again. You felt the sudden slimy wetness hit your nerves and you yelped in surprise. Just as quick, you fall into submission when his skilled tongue swirled in little number eights. Your eyes were closed shut, your hand pulling Miguel closer to which he obliged. He then surprises you by sticking one of his thick fingers inside you. “Oh my…god.” You moan, your body growing hot and sweaty underneath all your clothing. “Miguel…” Miguel’s mouth moves in rhythm, his lips kissing your pussy as he drinks whatever your sweet cunt offers him. He could stay like this forever, cleaning your mess up and licking you for all eternity. His rings nudge your folds, the metal a stark contrast from his rough fingers. He pumps a second finger inside and it’s a bit of a stretch that feels good enough for you to thrust harder. “Mmm, yes…oh, I’m so close…” You mumble to yourself, chest heaving as you come closer and closer to climax. Unexpectedly, Miguel pulls away from between your legs. The pleasure being ripped from you and you struggle to lift your head as he pulls off you. The look in his eyes is different. More lustful, more hungry.

“If you’re gonna cum, I want you cumming around my cock.” He groans and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. Miguel stands up and gets into bed with you, shoving his platform shoes and pants off. While he gets on top, you rest back into your bed and your eyes become big and wide–darting between his face and between his legs. “Is it–will it hurt?” You bring your hands to your chest, clutching the fabric of your tank top. Miguel lifts your chin up to him. His eyes are kind and soft. “It’s not supposed to. I’ll make sure it won’t.” He grabs the waistband of your skirt and tugs it off your legs, throwing it with the other forgotten clothes. His hands make his way up your body, helping you remove the sheer cardigan and sliding your tank top up and over your head. Miguel chuckles at the heart patterned bra you wore. He leans over to kiss your neck and you sigh. The feeling of his lips sucking and tongue licking you was surprisingly pleasurable. Instinctively, your reach around his shoulders to hold onto him, your back arching to be chest to chest with him. Miguel’s hands go under your back, holding you up while he quickly unclasps the bra. Feeling the loss of your support, you whine but Miguel kisses you before you become louder. He places you back down on your back and finally removes the last piece of clothing. Miguel admires you from above, his hands at your waist, rubbing up and down your sides as he feels your curves. “Perfecta. Eres mucha mujer.” He whispers while trailing his lips along your collarbone. You whimper, feeling your cheeks burn and grow hot to the touch. His breath ghosts over your breasts and he stares up at you maintaining eye contact. Miguel notices something in your hair; your white ribbon, still tied in your messy hair. His heart swells and smiles, reaching up to brush your hair away.

He kisses down the valley of your breasts and around your nipple. He glances up at you every so often to make sure you’re not feeling any sort of discomfort. He can feel your heart pounding underneath his palm. Miguel wraps his lips around your nipple and sucks softly. You gasp and hold your breath for a moment while his cold tongue piercing swirled around your nipple, his spider bites and nose piercing pressed against the softness of your tits. You stare up at the ceiling as the warmth in your body flooded down to your core. “Oh! M..Miguel…” You whined, your hands curling in his hair where you felt most comfortable. Miguel flicks his finger around your other nipple, pulling and bullying it until it becomes erect and perky. Even then, he twists it and gropes your tit in time with his sucking and biting. Your hips buck up, feeling your pussy throbbing uncomfortably. When you hit his bulge, Miguel moaned and grinded himself to your soaked pussy in soft circles. Your juices left a stain on his boxers in your desperate attempts at relief. He lets go of your tits–leaving a small bite mark– and continues to kiss down your body. “Gracias a Dios por mandarme esta belleza.” He murmurs, digging his hands into the plush of your hips when he raises your thighs up. Suddenly, he stops and lets go of you. “Shit, shit, fuck–hold on.” He mumbles and gets off you. You feel cold and watch as he gets off the bed and picks up his pants from the floor and searches through his pockets. “Did I…do something?” You ask, worried you might’ve done something that made Miguel regret touching you. He shakes his head. “No, no–just–ah, there it is…” He chuckles to himself after finding his wallet and pulling out a small square packet. He pushes his fringe back with one hand as he gets back into bed. Miguel shuffles down his boxers after putting the packet between his teeth. “I’ll get you pregnant some other time.” “What?” “What?” You close your mouth and hear ringing in your ears. You were sure that steam would be coming out of your head at this point–your mind felt like mush with how easily flustered he made you. Miguel looks down at you and huffs a small laugh, letting you know he was joking. Maybe. Hopefully.

His cock springs free once his boxers are off and he groans when it slaps his stomach, leaving a bead of his precum on his tip. Your eyes shamelessly stare at him. You were by no means an expert when it came to sex but you grew both worried and aroused at how massive he was. “There is…no way it’s gonna fit.” Miguel rips the plastic with his teeth and rolls the condom on his dick to the base. For a moment, you’re disappointed that he added protection. Just for a moment, though. He breathes out and gives soft strokes to his shaft while looking at you from beneath him. He feels his cock pulse and throb, growing harder by the second just by the sight of your perfectly sculpted naked body. He thought you were divine. Placing his hands on either side of your head, he leans down to kiss you as if trying to ease your worries. “It’ll fit, I promise. It’ll feel so good, too.” He whispers, his lips brushing against yours. “I’ll go slow.” He takes one hand to lift your thigh up just enough to give him space to rub his cock between your wet folds. “Miguel…!” You gasp while you feel just how hard he was. He shushes you. “I know, nena. Look what you do to me. Feel what you did to me.” He buries himself in your neck, nipping at your skin and you tilt your head back. More of your arousal soaks his cock, creating wet sounds while you grind on each other and Miguel shudders. He bites into your shoulder and fights against his instinct to shove his cock inside and fuck you into your own mattress. Miguel kisses the spot he bit, his breathing labored and heavy. “Tell me if it hurts, mama, okay?” You nod, your eyes screwed shut. “Uh-huh…” Slowly, Miguel looks down and makes sure his tip splits your folds apart as he enters inside you. Your breath hitches and you tighten your arms around his neck. “Miguel!” You whine while he penetrates you. He kisses your temple and stops when only his tip is inside you.

“You’re doing great, nena. No te preocupes, lo estás haciendo bien.” He reassures you with a shaky voice. It’s clear he’s holding back. You whimper apologies and Miguel kisses across your cheeks to try and return your focus on him instead of the new stretch you’re feeling. He praises you in a mix of Spanish and English–ones you can barely hear. He moves his hand down between your legs and gently rubs your clit with your thumb in hopes of loosening you up. With the added stimulation, you moan and hide in his neck with your eyes shut. You weakly thrust up, feeling a bit of relief and allowing Miguel to push further in. “Good, good,” He purrs. “Just like that, mama. Just let me in.” He groans and hisses when you clench around him. Miguel’s thumb switches between a fast and slow pace, sliding in his cock easily until you cry out and dig your nails into his skin, leaving small crescent shapes. “Stop, stop–” You whimper. “I’ll pull out–It’s okay–” “No!” You keep him close to you. “No, I just–I need a minute.” You sniffle, your body slowly adjusting around his girth. Miguel nods and pulls back enough to meet your eyes. “Okay. Okay, whatever you need. At your pace, remember?” He rests his forehead against yours. You open your eyes to see his cheeks flushed, a bit of sweat running down his temple and he shakes with every breath. Despite his current state of desire, he’s putting you first–he’s putting your comfort first. “Thank you.” You whine softly. Miguel huffs, leaning down to kiss the corner of your eyes. “Don’t thank me for that, nena. Never.” Miguel continues to pamper you with kisses, murmuring about how beautiful you are, how well you’re taking him, how he can’t get enough of you. He nuzzles into your neck, rolling lazily over your clit and does gentle thrusts of whatever you were able to handle. After a few moments, you grab his attention by running your hands through his hair, fingernails scratching over his shaved parts. “Okay…more, please.” He lifts himself up and holds your hips with both his hands. His thumbs caress your hip bones as he pushes himself deeper. You moan and tilt your head back, biting your lip as the combination of pain and pleasure hits your stomach and through every nerve in your body. It felt like forever until he reached the hilt, the light smack of his balls hitting your pussy. Miguel smiles. “Good girl,” he licks his lips. “Mirame.” Your head tilts back down to see both of you finally connected. “Holy shit…” You whisper, the sight making you clench. Miguel moans and grips your hips tighter, his head falling forward as he takes a deep breath. “Fuck, don’t tighten around me like that.” “Sorry!” You squeak and he chuckles. He raises his head back up, hair falling in front of his face and a lazy smile on his face that shows his fangs–his piercings glinting in the dim moonlight. “Don’t be. It’s just, you feel so fucking good–you’ll make me cum.”

You cover your face and resist the urge to scream. The heat emanating from your face made you sweaty. Miguel takes your wrists and pins them to the side of your head. He cocks a pierced eyebrow up with a smirk. It softens when he sees just how flushed your expression is. “‘m gonna move, okay?” You gulp and give him the green light. Miguel looks down and slowly pulls out, watching your slick drench his condom covered cock. “Jesus…” He groans under his breath. He looks back up to see if there’s any sign of discomfort on your end but he’s met with your eyes glued between your legs as well. Your eyebrows are scrunched up in pleasure, mouth agape with shallow breaths while you watch him slowly ease out of you. Miguel’s eyes darken with lust and he pushes back in once his tip was kissing your heat. He watches as you roll your head back, your eyes rolling behind your skull when you felt his cock filling you up again. “Oh my God…” You moan. “Miguel…” Miguel’s heart jumps and his hands tighten around your wrists. Still, he’s careful. For a few minutes, Miguel continues his slow thrusting. He pulls out sweet moans and whimpers from you, getting you used to his massive size and stretching your cunt out to the shape of him. His tip nudges against your cervix and you jump which makes him grin. After those few minutes, you began writhing underneath him. The pain had subsided and now this soft stroking was sweet but it wasn’t doing anything for you anymore. Your hands clenched and unclenched into fists.

“Miguel, Mig–more,” You begged. “Faster.” “You sure?” He slows to a stop and you furrow your eyebrows in annoyance which he doesn’t notice. He’s about to ask again after your lack of response when you lock your ankles around his waist, shoving him back inside you. You and Miguel moan in unison, Miguel nearly falling on top of you if he didn’t catch himself by resting on his elbows by your head. His breath fanned your face and he looked down into your eyes with a heavy blush. “More.” You moan and Miguel quickly goes to work. He leans on one elbow and places his other hand down to your hip to start picking up his pace. Miguel attaches his lips to your chest, biting the plump flesh of your tits before taking your nipple in his mouth once again. Your hands go around his back, your nails raking down his spine that leave red streaks. He pushes himself further against you, folding you in half while he increases his speed, abusing your pussy by slamming his cock in and out of you. Your squealing and moaning becomes music to Miguel’s ears. He groans and licks his tongue around your nipple, lapping it back in his mouth to suck on it. His nails dig into your waist while the sound of skin slapping signaling just how desperate he is to fill you with his cock. “Atta girl,” He moans after moving up to your neck with wet open mouthed kisses. “Knew you could take all of me. Knew you would sound so pretty crying all over my cock.” He smirks, looking up to see your eyes rolled back, tears brimming your eyes in ecstasy instead of pain this time. Your pussy spasms around him as you whimper.

“Mig–Mig–” You babble mindlessly. The only thing on your mind is Miguel, Miguel and Miguel. “So–so good…” You slur, vision going hazy while the lust clouded your mind. Miguel’s ego inflates, his dick twitching inside you. Even with a condom he could still feel your pussy contract around him, your warm walls sucking him in deeper. Your hips wiggle and buck weakly to match his thrusts but ultimately Miguel does all the work, sending your mind spinning while he practically fucks all your thoughts, fears, and insecurities from your brain—turning you into a dumb cock-drunk mess. Through the haze, you can hear your juices sloppily smacking between you and Miguel–an erotic sound of wet plaps, his balls becoming slick and sticky with your arousal. “God, you feel so good,” He moans, hips stuttering. “It’s like your cunt is just begging for my cum. You want it? Huh? This tight little pussy gonna milk me dry?” He quickened his pace, humping against you in fast short thrusts. You scratch his back, multiple lines of red marking his skin while your toes curl. “Yes, please, please, please–I wanna,” You babble through gasps. “It’s so good–I wanna cum–Don’t stop…!” Your voice becomes high pitched, your hips lifting to grind yourself on him. The both of you fucking one another exactly like horny college kids. Miguel growls, nipping at your neck to add more hickeys to your body. “Never. Holy shit–you’re so fucking sexy,” He cuts himself off with a groan, his sweaty forehead falling to your shoulder while he humps you. “Never letting you go. This pussy is mine.” His thumb finds your clit again, his fingers slowly being drenched with your messy juices that had spread all around your labia, smearing around your pussy with the help of Miguel’s unstable thrusting. His cold rings bumped against your hot skin, the difference in temperature becoming another factor in your raw lust. Your screams of pleasure bounced off the walls. “C’mon pretty girl. Cum for me. I know you’re close.” He pants in your ear.

“Mig–gy!” You choke out, eyes squinted in ecstasy as Miguel helps you reach your climax. It wasn’t anything you’ve experienced before. White hot numbing pleasure waving through your body as you spasmed. Your orgasm shook your entire body and you clutched onto him tightly, your legs keeping him near, nails finding purchase in his back and arching your breasts up to his chest, nipples sensitive to the touch. Miguel followed right after: rubbing your clit faster and his balls ached with a tightness before releasing his seed into the condom, his cock twitching as it spurts out his cum. He moans loudly, his body shivering and shaking along with you but he still helps you come down from the high, pumping weakly as he empties himself. Your body falls limp, head lolled back while Miguel breaths heavily. He pulls out as gently as you can but your virgin cunt wasn’t used to such stimulation, each inch back caressed your sensitive nerves up until he finally left with a pop. Miguel’s hands shook as he took off the condom, body now covered in cold sweat now that the heat of the momentum was gone. He stumbled off your bed and tied the condom shut then dumped it in the small bin in your dorm room. He slipped back in your bed beside you, smiling to himself when you took deep breaths with your eyes closed. “Hey, you alright?” He asks with a soft wheeze. “Huh?” You barely heard him over the heartbeat pounding in your head. The blood flow goes through your body normally once again. “Hm? Oh. Mhm. Yeah.” Miguel chuckles, resting on one elbow with his cheek in his palm and brushes your sweaty hair back from your face. “Yeah? You were amazing.”

“Really?” You try to look up at him through the exhaustion in your eyes. Who knew sex could take all your energy? Miguel grabs your folded fuzzy blanket and unravels it to drape it on top of you two. “Really. I’m honored to be your first.” You blush at the reminder that you hadn’t had sex before and the reminder that you were no longer a virgin. You stare at his face while his hands caress your cheeks, his thumb rubbing the side of your neck right under your jawline. “Do you really like me?” You find yourself asking him. Miguel’s hand stops moving and he looks surprised. “Yeah,” He confirms gently. “I wouldn’t fuck you if I didn’t. I don’t have sex with just anyone.” He pulls your cheek. You frown and pout at him. “I'm serious!” Miguel chuckles. “I know, I know.” He tilts your chin up with his index finger and leans down to kiss you sweetly for a quick peck. He knows what’s really on your mind. “My pretty girl.” He hums as he stares down at you to admire the afterglow of your orgasm. “All mine. My pretty girl.” He dunks his head down to your chest, wrapping his arms around you to pull you in his embrace and snuggles you.

Your heart flutters. Pretty. It hits you then that Miguel really does think you’re pretty. You feel his ear piercings against your chest and the rings on his fingers running up and down the curve of your spine. His fingers find your white ribbon, crumpled under you and he twirls it around his ring finger. You struggle to hold back your smile as you hug him back, nuzzling your nose in his hair and falling asleep with the comfort of knowing someone genuinely finds you beautiful, inside and out.

a/n: im sorry i wasnt normal i just love a good trope and punk miguel i cant help but make him cute

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara imagine #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #nonie requests ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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astraystayyh · 2 years ago

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The wedding and the morning after

inspired by that cute twitter trend :,) very soft bang chan fluff. use of wife and husband a lot but they just got married so they get a pass!!!!!

if you guys enjoy reading please leave a reblog or comment it means the world to me <3

Your wedding ceremony with Chan was a simple one. You weren't one for extravagance and neither was he. So you opted for an intimate setting, only inviting your favorite humans in there.

You felt as if everything was more vibrant that day- the colors of the flowers you both hand-picked, the smell of food that wafted through the air, the twinkling lights you had installed because they reminded Chan of your eyes (or so he insisted).

But you knew it had a lot less to do with the decorations, and more with the man you married. Being with Chan was like looking at the world through rose-tinted glasses.

You felt grateful that you were alive because you got to experience being loved by him.

There was music, lots of laughter, and admittedly, tears. You can blame Chan's vows for it. His words rang in your ears throughout the night- how he vowed to love you until his last breath, and long after that.

But he didn't need to make those promises, they were just honorifics. Chan has shown you time and time again that he was in love with you.

You knew by the way he tore down your walls, gently, at your pace, your hand tightly clutched in his. How he deeply cared for you, on your happy days but especially on your saddest.

You and Chan weren't perfect, but you complemented each other like two halves of one heart. You found in him a home, a safe place for you to exist and be loved.

"You are so beautiful", he whispers in your ears while the both of you sway on the dance floor. You could faintly hear the cheers of the boys who were watching you, but you paid no mind to them. All you could focus on was Chan's warm hands on your waist, holding you close.

"So are you", you beam at him. When you looked at Chan, you didn't simply see his beautiful features- his brown eyes, straight nose and plump lips. You saw a warm coffee shop, where you seek refuge on a cold day; you saw a sunset slowly casting down into the sea; you saw a field of tulips stretching into the horizon.

Looking at Chan reminded you of beautiful sceneries, of the smell of earth after the rain, of a hearty soup that fills your insides when you are ill. You saw in him every beautiful feeling you've ever experienced in your life.

"I don't know how I got so lucky", he kisses your forehead gently and you close your eyes, savoring the feel of his lips on your skin.

Chan's forehead kisses held a special place in your heart. You always felt them deep within you- as if he was kissing beyond your skin and into your soul.

"I'm the lucky one", you reply, standing on your tiptoes and pecking his forehead back. Chan blushes at your gesture, eyes crinkling closed like half moons. It made your heart sore, how affected he was by your touch even after four years of dating. You liked to believe you'd be seventy and still a giggling mess around each other.

Chan then twirls you around, your laugh echoing around the venue. He thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you laugh this way for the rest of your lives.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"My feet are killing me", you whine to Chan as he parks in front of your apartment. You chose not to rush into your honeymoon, because you wanted to savor the quiet after your wedding, just the two of you. And you couldn't think of a better place to do so than your apartment.

It wasn't a huge one, but it had a makeshift studio for Chan, and a little balcony where you read. You painted the walls blue together and he bought you plants that you water everyday.

It was messy at times, but it was still your home. You knew that no matter what happened throughout the day, you can leave your worries at the door and head inside into each other's safe embrace.

Chan quickly hops to your side of the car, and opens it for you. He takes your heels off, throwing them into the backseat, before scooping you up bridal style.

"I've been dying to do this on our wedding night", he giggles excitedly and you smile, loosely looping your hands around his neck.

"Well now you can, husband."

"Say it again", he smiles as he leads you up to your apartment.

"My husband", you repeat and he quickly leans down to steal a kiss.

Chan opens the door to your apartment, finally placing you on solid ground. He loosens his black tie and you lean against the wall, admiring the view.

"Like what you see?", he teases and you smile mischievously, "This is what I married you for."

"So you are only with me for my looks?", he pouts. You would have thought he looked so adorable if not for him slowly unbuttoning his white shirt.

"I am", you smirk and suddenly, you are thrown over his shoulder. You laugh as he runs towards the bedroom, with you perched on his back.

He then gently places you down on the bed, caging your body with his arms; any hint of playfulness gone from his eyes. His gaze is so intense, you feel a blush creep up your neck. He notices, of course, and he smiles softly at you. "Is my wife getting shy on me?"

"Shut up", you glare playfully at him, and he grins, "Make me."

"You are so cheesy", you giggle as you grab his tie, pulling him down to meet your lips in a feverish kiss.

°°°°°°°°°°°

"Morning, my love", Chan smiles at you, his hand threading through your hair gently.

"Morning, honey", you smile back, stretching slightly.

"Did you sleep well?", he asks, snuggling closer to you.

"Mhm, like a baby."

"I must have tired you yesterday", he smirks and you glare playfully at him, "Cocky much?"

"And you love it."

You're about to reply when your stomach grumbles loudly. "Is my pretty wife hungry?", he teases and you bite his arm in response.

"I'll take that as a yes", he chuckles, pulling you up with him, "Let's go make you breakfast."

"Make who breakfast?" you singsong and he smiles softly at you. "Make my wife breakfast."

°°°°°°°°°°°°

You are clad in Chan's oversized t-shirt and he's only wearing a pair of black shorts. The view of Chan's back muscles is so enticing you'd almost skip breakfast if you weren't so hungry.

When you are both done cooking, you happily dig into the breakfast while recounting the weddings events- how Hyunjin and Minho got so drunk they ended up confessing their love to each other, how Felix cried during your vows, how Seungmin and Jeongin surprised you with a song cover during your first dance. You can't help but sigh contently at how simple yet loving it felt.

You then wash the dishes while Chan dries them- an easy routine you both fell into as soon as he moved in with you.

You've been married to Chan for a day but you've loved him for what feels like forever.

When the kitchen is clean, you high-five him but he doesn't let your hand go. Instead, he intertwines his fingers with yours, bringing you closer to him.

"I love you", he whispers as his thumb slowly caresses your palm.

"I love you more."

"Impossible."

"But-", Chan silences you with his lips on yours, and you both can't help but smile into the kiss.

When he leans away, he bows down slightly, offering you his hand, "May i have this dance?"

You giggle as you curtsy back, "Yes you may."

Chan twirls you around the kitchen and you feel light as air. You then spin him around and you almost lose your balance, but Chan is there to steady you with a gentle grip.

As you catch your breath, you take a moment to look around you. The kitchen is bathed in warm, golden light, and the aroma of freshly made coffee fills the air. You can't help but wonder what you'd look like to an outsider, waltzing in the kitchen with no music on.

But as you gaze up at your husband, you don't find it in you to care. You've come to learn that with Chan, even the silence can sound like the most enchanting melody.

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bluejeanstrash · 7 months ago

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inspired by this and this (sfw)

tags: idol! seungcheol x idol! reader, reader is a certified brat, brat taming, seungcheol and reader are hooking up, use of oppa and hyung, suggestive conversation | wc: 1.4k

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

seungcheol swears he’s mistaken when he hears the first paparazzi call your name. but there it is again, and again, and by the time the crowd is screaming hysterically, he’s sure it must be you. he turns around as he’s being escorted into the venue to see you on the red carpet, waving to the cameras, posing with a poise only a professional idol has. you look jaw-droppingly good, and he curses at the fact that he only got to see you for two seconds.

things work out in his favour though. he reaches his table to see a place card with your name on it. idols seated together. not a bad marketing decision.

unlike the vibrant red carpet, the inside of the venue is dim, a velvety purple hue painting the room, and there’s a dj whose set suits seungcheol’s taste. it’s nice being here after months of hiatus, and it would be even nicer if you’d get here quicker. your group and seventeen were contemporaries, and pretty good friends, though in the public eye it seemed like you’d barely interacted. everyone wanted to keep it that way.

finally, after what feels like hours, you walk in, heads turning as you make your way to the table. he checks you out, slowly this time, blown away by just how incredible you look. your dress is sensual yet subtle, and his hands are itching to feel the fabric, and you under it. you’re a few steps away when you pause, spotting him, equally surprised to see him here. you would rarely cross paths during schedules, so this was unusual.

respectful bows are exchanged before you take a seat. a waiter comes by to drop off glasses of champagne, and you take that as an opportunity to check seungcheol out. all black everything with faded auburn hair looks very sexy on him. you make a quick decision about what you want him to do to you in this outfit.

‘i didn’t know you were attending. just you?’ he asks politely, in stark contrast to how impolitely he'd fucked you the last time you met.

‘just me. just you?’

‘and wonwoo. wonwoo!’ seungcheol waves him down as wonwoo makes his way to the table, taking a seat to your other side.

‘hyung, they need you for some solo press’ he informs and seungcheol is escorted away by his manager.

in the 10 to 15 minutes that seungcheol’s gone, you make small talk with wonwoo, touching on agency-approved topics like comebacks, dance challenges, and the like. topics that wouldn’t cause an internet meltdown when someone would inevitably zoom into your lips and try to breakdown every word being said.

what you’d actually been dying to discuss with wonwoo was his latest fling, and why he’d ghosted them, but that’s filed away for another day.

seungcheol returns with a second drink in his hand, and message for wonwoo ‘wonwoo-ya, they’re calling you now. do well’ he encourages like always.

seungcheol takes a seat beside you, close enough to dispel any negative rumours and far enough to not get pulled into dating ones.

‘have you finished press?’

‘what?’ you lean forward, the music too loud to speak at a distance. he does the same, almost placing his hand on your thigh but he catches himself in the last second, closing his palm into a loose fist and resting it on the table. seungcheol repeats his question, and you nod. yes, you’re done with press.

‘there are way too many cameras here’ he recognises a few fans who run his biggest fansites, all “discreetly” pointing huge DSLRs in his direction. he has to be careful not to accidentally touch you. not to do something that makes both your names start trending tonight.

‘are you done with schedule? what are you doing after this?’ he gives your dress a once over, trying to figure out how to undo it. there’s a complicated knot at the back which makes him eager to try.

the corners of your mouth curl into a playful smile before you take a sip of the bubbly. the sparkling gold goes down easy, and your words come out smooth,

‘you’

his eyes widen as the gulp of champagne he’s taking enters the wrong pipe, sending him into a tiny coughing fit. his eyes dart around the room to see if anyone caught that.

he takes another sip to recover, regaining any composure lost. then he leans in, plump cherry lips brushing against your ear ‘don’t say shit like that when we’re in public or i swear to god’

he sits back, adjusting the fall of his suit, and runs his fingers nervously through his thick hair which bounces right back into place.

this time you lean in completely, seungcheol refusing to meet you halfway, your earrings dangling with the motion ‘or what? what’s oppa going to do to me? punish me for being bad?’ you have a dangerous lilt in your tone that makes his dick throb.

‘stop. it.’ he mouths a warning. as if that has ever made a difference.

to seungcheol’s surprise, you had turned out to be quite a handful. you were different from your idol image. same, but different. he’d liked you instantly when you’d met outside work at his manager’s party and one thing led to another till you both had hooked up. he couldn’t believe it. you were two of his favourite things — a brat and a nasty slut combined into one gorgeous woman, and seungcheol wouldn’t have it any other way.

though, right now he could, because at this moment you were a pain in the ass and a throb in his dick, both of which he couldn’t afford. it’s not like he could refuse to engage in conversation with you. how bad would that look? so he stays still, listening to whatever lewd filth you’re whispering into his ear.

‘oppa, you know that thing you said you wanted to try with me? you wanted to put it inside my…while you turned on the vibrator in my other hole? can we try it? please?’ you leave your words vague, his imagination running wild. he’s going to kill you. it can’t get any worse, he thinks, but then the music changes.

an rnb song. no, an rnb song that’s no. 24 on your blended spotify sex playlist. in a biological reaction that would make pavlov proud, his cock starts to stiffen in his pants from the very first note. he catches your eye, looking away instantly. this is bad. this is very bad.

in an attempt to hide the tent that’s pitching in his pants, seungcheol crosses one leg over the other, taking further precautions to cover his crotch with a drape of his arms. it’s clear to you what’s happening, and if it wasn’t obvious enough he starts bouncing his knee, moving it a million times a minute. he’d read somewhere it gets rid of an unwanted erection, but it seems to be doing jack shit.

you lean back, amused, smoothing a flyaway hair, and elegantly throw your sleek locks over your shoulder to reveal a hint of your cleavage. seungcheol has spent a lot of time in there — kissing, licking, sucking…and shooting cum on that strip of skin. you know what you’re doing. he knows what you’re doing. the waiter who just walked past knows what you’re doing. seungcheol makes a mental note to tell his manager not to book you both at the same event ever again.

he tears his gaze away from your chest, focusing on the table in front of him. how many overlapping stitches can he see? he counts.

but you’re not done yet. no, you want him riled up and pissed off. you want that vein in his neck to pop. you wonder if you can run the risk of sliding your foot up his leg. probably not, and yet a second later the point of your heel slides up the inner seam of his pants, making him jump in his chair.

his jaw clenches, his neck tightens ‘that’s enough, you fucking brat’ he spits, forgetting to lean in or hide his mouth.

you grin impishly, taking a congratulatory sip of your champagne. he doesn’t know this but you’re soaking wet, your panties sticking uncomfortably to your cunt. riling him up always made you leak arousal in anticipation for the impending punishment.

unfortunately, before you can get a teaser of what’s to come, wonwoo returns, walking alongside your manager. you’ve done your part, made your appearance, and it’s time to leave, he says. you say your goodbyes, first to wonwoo, and then turn to seungcheol who lets out a small huff of air before standing up. he smiles for the cameras and bows, glaring at you as you lock eyes and whispers,

‘you’re in so much trouble’

#idk i just felt like yapping #not proofread #i will get to it #scoups smut #seungcheol smut #scoups #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #choi seungcheol #scoups fanfic #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol #scoups imagine #seungcheol imagine #scoups drabble #seungcheol drabble #scoups oneshot #seungcheol oneshot

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a-d-nox · 3 months ago

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astro hypothesis: what's your ideal bedroom like?

once upon a time (a year ago) i spoke of using your house rulers to deep dive into the story of the houses. i did a hypothesis about money and another about careers - but what about your home? for that take a look at your 4h and the persona chart of its ruler (ex: my 4h is in gemini, i will be looking at my mercury persona chart NOT my ic persona (thats more family and childhood dynamics in my opinion)).

today i want to focus on somewhere critical to all of us - our bedroom. you can look at the 12h and/or the moon in this chart to get a better idea of what your ideal bedroom looks like or should be like to feel most rested and comfortable.

why?

the 12h rules over solitude (where you might go to escape everyone else in your household), the subconscious (where we supposedly go in deep sleep), etc.

the moon rules over comfort (what we find comfort in), the subconscious (which connects again to deep sleep and dreaming), cycles and rhythms (hi sleep cycle and circadian rhythm), etc.

so here are some observations of what i believe to be important to a room based on these factors in your 4h ruler's persona chart.

a capricorn (10°, 22°) moon / 12h saturn / capricorn 12h / moon aspecting saturn person likely wants a minimal room. they don't what a lot of clutter - if their room is cluttered they might be experiencing a lot of waking/life stress/anxiety that is effecting their sleep. they like neutral and natural colors in a room - beiges, "agreeable grey", dark green, and dark blues in particular allows them to feel calm and as though they are able to relax. arctic white paint or cool white light may trigger them into feeling like they are in work mode instead of relax mode. they seek quality furniture that is timeless - they don't want to constantly have to replace the pieces they have in their room because they don't last or no longer fit the style. they don't want to have to think at the end of the day that something broke or they hate a piece because it doesn't fit the trend anymore and they now have to replace it. they don't want another thing they have to do, they just want to crash. organization is key - everything in their room should have a spot. they want everything that belongs in there to have a place (books are organized by author/series, clothing is color/season organized, glasses have a spot on a side table, jewelry has an organizer that rarely changes, etc). there is often a very refined and elegant feeling to their room. the sheets have a classic design (they are white or white and grey), the mirror is elegant yet classic, the bed is simple yet fits and fills the space well, etc. and most importantly room darkening curtains and lots of blankets (no capricorn/saturn person wants to be awakened by the sun or because they are too cold at night)!!!

a gemini (3°, 15°, 27°) moon / 12h mercury / gemini 12h / moon aspecting mercury person might have a rather eclectic style in their room. it might feel like they are testing out a look or like they have a lot of different vibes that don't necessarily fit one another. color finds its way into this room no matter what and it is often multiple colors at once that draw a person's attention. its very strange because this space is never just a sleep space for them often its multi-functional in some way shape or form like they have the ability to have a sitting space for others... could be a chair or a window seat or a desk... speaking of desks - books, vinyl, cds, gadgets, etc are a big part of the gemini/mercury vibes in a space. often their media have a spotlight moment in a room. lastly this space has an air of awareness in it - its not totally sleepy vibes, you know for sure when you see this space its not just for sleep. this is a place of study, reading, music listening, etc. it might just feel like not much sleep occurs in the space at all!

leo (5°, 17°, 29°) moon / 12h sun / leo 12h / moon aspecting sun rooms are warm and inviting. there are likely gold elements or warm paint colors used in the room. luxury is a must - the bed is likely memory foam or plush - the pillows are probably hotel/high quality. the comforter is down feathers and/or a fluffy/fuzzy blanket is present. it is very likely that stuffed animals are present too or at least one that is too adorable not to be there. there is some sort of central piece in this room - a giant mirror, a big art piece over the bed, a grand wall of books, etc. something in the room is guaranteed to always get a compliment from people who peak in during a house tour. it is also rather common especially in younger years for these people to keep their awards/trophies on display in their room as it fills them with a great sense of pride. windows are very important to this person's bedroom too as they tend to enjoy natural light when they can get it.

aries (1°, 13°, 25°) moon / 12h mars / aries 12h / moon aspecting mars people love a bold look in their room. its the energy of platform beds, industrial metal frames, etc. if they can use an "aggressive" color (red, orange, yellow, etc) in a bedroom they will... however they like a modern and sleek look despite their bold color schemes. they also like a minimal room - the bedroom is for their bed - point, blank, period. it's about having the essentials nothing more nothing less. they won't being using decorative pillows they have to remove every night or a decorative blanket that just hangs over their footboard. heavens forbid a decorative ladder with a decorative blanket that's not for use but for the eye. if they can't use it, they don't need or want it in the space it will just make them annoyed and cause them to feel like everything is in the way of them getting to the relax/wind-down portion of their day. now strangely enough, they often workout in their bedroom, so it wouldn't be shocking to find a pull up bar in the doorway or a peloton bike in the corner of the room. and 10/10 they will be getting up using an alarm - but it is rather unlikely they will need multiple alarms to make them get out of their bed in the morning.

likely more to come on home hypotheses, as i look to make renovations to my own home despite/because of being creatively burnt out. thank the heavens for astrology doing the leg work.

-a.d.

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#astrology #astro community #astro placements #astro chart #natal chart #astrology tumblr #astrology chart #natal astrology #astrology readings #astro #astrology blog #astrology stuff #astrology signs #astro notes #astro observations #astroblr #4h #persona chart observations #persona chart

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sordidmusings · 1 year ago

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Loose Lips (Buggy x Reader)

A/N: Fulfillment of this request! Thank you for making a request dear anon 💕 I really hope that it's what you wanted because it kind of grew into a whole thing 😬 also this is going to be this week's Thirsty Thursday!

@fanaticsnail brilliantly suggested this song for the fic!

Word Count: ~5.7k (~3.1k of smut 💀)

Warnings: Fem!afab!reader, NSWF very naughty indeed, praise, degredation, p in v, chop chop tomfoolery, overstimulation, creampie, dirty talk, dom!Buggy, jealous and heavily possessive Buggy, manhandling/forceful treatment, Gossip time with The Girls (probably ooc but let me have this), trashing your partner (he deserves it), allusions to gaslighting and emotional abuse, starts with humor then just needy but then devolves into lots of smut I promise 💀, some fluff at the end cuz I had to

~Come with me, and you'll be, in a world of endless perversion~

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Buggy had the most shit-eating grin, and it only grew wider with each word you said. He was sunk deep into his chair, feet thrown on the table in front of him, nursing his fifth beer. Taking another gulp, he eyed you over the rim of his tankard. You were only starting your third drink, but to his delight that was enough of a buzz for you to loosen up. Normally, you were quite the skittish little thing around him, and while it was cute he wanted to see and know more of you. He’s always been quite infatuated with you and wished that he had more time with you to sate his want for your presence (and to fuel his fantasies). Tonight, that wish was granted when you had seated yourself next to him instead of your normal drinking buddies on the crew. It may have been Mohji’s usual seat, but whatever you claimed in his presence was immediately yours to him. Mohji was also easy to convince with a warning glare and sharp nod to the chair beside Cabaji.

Speaking of your usual drinking buddies, one in particular had taken to giving Buggy quite the sour look. It only fed Buggy’s smugness more. He wasn’t exactly a fan of your boyfriend in the first place. His dislike was quickly turning into disdain as well with the picture you had been painting for him. It was filled with unappreciated gestures, expected caretaking with no reciprocation, and an absolute bulldozing of your emotions. Clearly, this man boy didn’t deserve you. Possibly not even a spot on the ship with how poorly he’d been treating Buggy’s favorite. That’s probably why said boy was looking so pissy and threatened over there in his corner with your friends. Buggy raised his drink in a sarcastic cheers to him while you were distracted with a joke Cabaji had made at your partner’s expense. When your chuckles tapered off, your face started to pinch with apprehension.

“I feel kind of bad. I mean, you’re his crew and captain and I’m just here bitching to you,” you lamented. Your eyes widened with a sudden thought and you groaned. “Oh no, I must sound like a bratty teen gossiping about their partner.”

“Sounds like you’ve already tried talking it out with him,” Cabaji said. At your shy nod, he continues, “Then fuck it - you gotta get it out.”

“I know, but it’s all so stupid and trivial.” You were hunching back into yourself, staring down at your fingers while they played with your glass in your lap. There’s a flick on your forehead, and your head darts up to see Buggy’s hand floating back to him.

“S’not stupid if you’re upset,” he asserts, much to your astonishment. Buggy always struck you as more of the “suck it up buttercup” type. Wait, he was; you’d seen him bark or laugh at pouting crew members more often than not. You had seen him give some comfort, too, but it was always for something inarguably large in scale. Unexpected sympathy from the torch you’ve held longest should have been enough for you to cheer back up, but the vicious fight you’d had with your partner this afternoon still had all your thoughts trending negative. The confrontation had been brewing for a long while, but knowing it was coming didn’t shield you from the hurt.

“Then it’s pathetic,” you argued. “I mean, only sad lovers in sappy plays cry themselves to sleep right?” You tried to play it off as a joke, but the laugh you used to chase it was hollow.

“You’ve been crying?” Mohji asked, worry showing in his face and voice. Next to him, Cabaji scowled and Buggy sat up straight, even placing his feet on the floor.

“Yeah but I’m just being dramatic; I’m a bit oversensitive,” you said, echoing the words your boyfriend had long worked into you.

“No,” Buggy bit out. “I’ve seen you stare down pirates twice your size, coming at you cussing and swinging. You passed the berating month when you got here, and that has had lesser pirates sob their way back off the ship. Hell, you’ve been stabbed and you were more concerned with your friends crying about it.” Buggy snorted and shook his head, distracting you with the way the blue hair swayed from his hat. His heavy leather boots plonked back on the table, rattling the cups and plates, and he shuffled back down into his seat. The look he gave you was bordering on offended. “You’re not dramatic or too sensitive.”

You think your heart may burst - did he really have such a strong opinion of your character? You may have sought Buggy’s presence out because you were upset and you feel protected around him, but you never would’ve dreamed that the outcome would feed your infatuation such a hefty meal.

“He’s been feeding you bullshit hasn’t he?” Cabaji butted in, tone full of contempt.

“He might have… been the one to tell me that first,” you answered hesitantly. Your brows furrowed. Did you really think that of yourself or had he thought it loud enough for the both of you? Was he the only one who thought it? You became stuck looking for answers in the dark liquid in your cup. Meanwhile, the looks Buggy gave your boyfriend had taken on a lot more accusation and threat than teasing.

“See now that’s pathetic,” Cabaji scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “A man who has to belittle his partner is no man at all.”

“Yeah, he’s probably scared ‘cause he knows half the crew would gun for you if you left him,” Mohji laughed. It got you to perk up a touch and giggle with him. Buggy’s hard expression eased at the sound and the sight of a genuine smile pressing at your cheeks.

“Ah, some actual attention would be nice,” you sighed wistfully. Your voice became bitter when you muttered, “Besides digs and requests for sex of course.” Buggy choked on his drink, causing him to pound on his chest in an attempt to recover quickly. The other two were hooting at both your partner’s and Buggy’s expense.

“He’s that bad that he has to beg for it?” Cabaji snarked gleefully.

“Unfortunately,” you grumbled, pouting into your drink. “I don’t really find him attractive anymore either.”

“Oh no, sweetcheeks,” Buggy admonished, “You should not put up with some manipulative brat who can’t even please you.” Beyond his distaste for seeing you upset and mistreated, his glee at the wedge between you and your partner left him feeling fluttery. He did have a small pit twisting in his gut though; why would you even go to him if you were barely attracted to one of his most handsome men?

“See, this is why you’re my favorite,” you sighed dreamily, smitten from hearing him send a pet name your way and from his persistent defense of you. Your words and the lovesick look you gave Buggy had him short circuit. He needed to grab at this train of thought and pull the whole thing from you.

“I’m your favorite?” Buggy rushed out. Cabaji and Mohji smirked at each other before looking back to see how this played out.

“Well, um, yeah it’s always been you,” you mumbled. Before you could stop it, your mouth kept moving. “I’ve always wanted you but felt stupid doing anything about it. You’re just really impressive with how well you run the ship and with your chop chop thing and how you don’t turn people away because they’re different and you’re always there for us when we really need you and also your hair is really pretty and you’ve taken really good care of me - um - all of us and you’re so strong and really hot doing like anything and I should-” you finally took a breath “-I should shut up.”

Buggy stared at you wide eyed, mouth agape. The duo next to him was trying to keep in their snickers and doing just an awful job of it. You took another gulp of your drink for something to do. Gods, you don’t think your face has ever felt so hot. You cleared your throat and said, “I think I should-”

“You’re breaking up with him,” Buggy told you. You blinked.

“I am?” you asked, not upset with the idea but confused at the sudden order.

“You are,” Buggy confirmed. His drink was placed on the table with a firm clunk, which his feet echoed on the floor. When he stood before you, you had to crane your neck up to see him with how he loomed into your space. His expression was one you’d never seen on him before; he looked ready to snatch you up and bite down. His sea-green eyes glimmered through the shadows cast across his face. He jerks his chin at the drink in your hand. “That’s your third right?”

“Yes, Captain, my um-” you gave an embarrassed smile “-my mouth gets affected far before everything else.”

“So you feel okay?” he checked one more time, eyes boring into your own and making you feel naked.

“Yes, Captain.”

“Good,” he started, leaning even more over you and placing his gloved hands on your cheeks. The fabric felt soft and warm and you found yourself leaning into it. “Then you are coming with me.”

Buggy stepped back, leaving his arms with you. One moved around your back and the other behind your knees. They lifted you up and brought you to him in one smooth motion. You still yelped without any jerking, bringing attention to yourself from many of the drinking pirates crammed below deck with you. Flustered, you hid your face in the soft fur lining his coat. Buggy turned to his two highest ranked men. He took in their shit-eating grins and sneered back, mostly in jest.

Buggy moved his look over at your group of friends and most importantly your (ex-)boyfriend. While your friends mostly looked confused (and one giving a thumbs up), the idiot of the hour was livid. Buggy smiled slow and wide, making his canines shine threateningly in the flickering lamplights, and he detached a hand just to flick his fingers in a cheeky wave.

“Cabaji. Mohji.” They straightened at his tone. “Let that one know he’s no longer on my crew and he figures out a way off the ship by tomorrow night or I’m throwing him overboard.”

“Aye, Captain!” They both cheered, tipping their drinks his way.

“Now,” Buggy said softly. He turned and began walking in long strides, expertly weaving through the passing plates, flailing arms, and spinning bodies of his merry band of misfits. The gentle bob and sway of being in his arms managed to settle your scrambling heart and mind, if only a bit. He paused when he reached the stairs to the upper deck. The cheek he leaned down onto the top of your head calmed you even further. “You’re coming with me to my cabin to make up for lost time. Okay?”

Your heart thudded strongly and pressed up at your throat. Your eyes burned. He was still checking in? To give yourself a moment to get rid of the lump in your throat, you turned your head and gave a few soft kisses to the base of his neck. Even through his cravat, the action made him shiver. Finally, you answered, “Yes, Captain Buggy.”

The flight up the stairs and to Buggy’s cabin was much swifter and more impatient. Both of you found yourselves thanking the Gods for his devil fruit abilities when they let him open the way without sacrificing his hold on you. He refused to release you until he was kicking his door shut behind him and tearing off his jacket. You took the time to admire the way the muscles in his arms moved as he threw off his hat. His upper body popped up and flew to you so his legs could work at toeing off his boots. You welcomed him to you with open arms and grasping fingers.

Buggy’s grip around you was demanding, one hand fisted in your hair and the other fisted in your shirt. You happily listened to their directions, pushing further into him and offering him your lips. His decorated eyes closed and his painted lips dove to feel yours, only to stop just a hair short.

“After this you’re mine.” His voice rumbled against your chest and his lips tickled against yours with each syllable. There was a jolt as his legs got back to his body, causing your lips to brush in the closest mimic of a kiss yet. You whined right against the brush of his red lips and pawed at the front of his shirt to ask for more. “Say it.”

“I’m yours, Captain.” The words were barely out of your mouth before he was stealing the breath from your lungs. The kiss immediately became open mouthed; he had needed to taste you since he set eyes on you and he had deprived himself of the chance long enough. It was full of dancing tongues, eager lips, and bumping noses and it was better than you had let yourself hope for.

“You have any idea how long that fucker kept you from me,” he growled. His arms kept you to him in the fervent kiss but his hands flew off to start undoing your pants. Their movements were jerky and rushed and the tugging at your pants made the garment rub pleasantly across your skin. Your body felt alive with the taste of his lips, the pressure of his arms and the pulling of his hands.

“You’ll never think of him again,” Buggy promised darkly between kisses, while his hands began harsh tugs to get your pants and underwear down. When you were stepping out of them, he finally moved back far enough from you to let his hands work on ripping your shirt over your head. Buggy’s lips were back on you before your hair even had time to settle back into place. He nipped your bottom lip and kissed his way to your ear. His hands were making quick work of your bra. “I’m going to replace every bit of his touch on your body with my own.”

Shivers trembled through your body at the feeling of his words being breathed into your ear. The tingling sensation bouncing under your skin only intensified when his hands wedged between your chests and began thumbing at your hardened nipples. While he started walking backwards to the bed, you set on undoing his too numerous belt buckles. You needed to feel his skin on you now. At your unhappy moan, Buggy had his hands help you.

“Impatient?” he teased. He got another whine for his answer. At last, all his belts were undone. The thick one from his waist thunked onto the floor and his shirt followed soon after, pushed off by hurried hands sweeping from pec over shoulder. You hummed at the feeling of his chest hair against your palm and his muscles flexing and moving in your grip. Your arms then wrapped behind his neck, pulling him in to feel his chest press to yours. You jumped at the unexpected feeling of his chest hair teasing at your nipples, making them send pleasant tingles across your skin. His arms wrapped around your waist to pull you in just as tightly, making you feel caged and at his mercy. Groping hands separated from his arms to work at the flesh of your hips and ass, the fabric of his gloves causing extra friction.

Buggy’s lips had made their way back to yours, trailing burning kisses and red paint, and his prodding tongue slid back through your parted lips. Your hurried fingers pulled the bandana from his head and scratched across his scalp, setting his hair free. Blue waves cascaded down to tickle your arms and sweep at your cheeks. Your hands broke through the curtain of his soft hair to rid him of his cravat. While your hands continue seeking ways to touch him, his hands left you to swiftly yank each glove off. When his touch came back to you, Buggy moaned loudly at the feeling of your bare, flushed skin under his fingers and palms.

His hands massaged their way down to the backs of your thighs. While he sat himself down on the bed, he used this grip to pull you into his lap. You shivered and moaned as your bare pussy finally got some friction against the leather of his pants. Even through the thick material, you could feel his length twitch against you. An iron grip clamped onto your hips and set the pace of your needy grinding. “Fuck, sweets, you’re gonna ruin my pants. That wet already?”

“Can’t help it,” you whined. “I’ve wanted you so long.” You emphasized your words by grinding down more firmly against him, sliding easily through your slick on the supple leather.

“Fuuuuck,” Buggy groaned low, throwing his head back at the sensations sparking through him with each push of your hips. He pressed back into you with more insistence. “Wanted to take more time with you, treasure, but you’re making it fucking hard.”

He used his chop chop powers to stay attached to you again, separating from his feet so he could float you two to the center of the bed. The weightlessness and tipping of your balance shot adrenaline through you and had your weight increasing the pressure of his hard on against your clit. You dragged nails down Buggy’s chest in your bid for stability, earning a grumbling moan from him.

You may have been the one on top of him, but it was clear from his controlling hands and commanding lips that he was the one in charge. You’d let him keep that power forever if it meant you kept getting to feel his touch tearing into you and taste his skin and tongue and teeth. The smell of your own arousal mixing with the hazy scent of him emanating from his body and sheets had your muscles turning liquid, save the ones helping your hips lure pleasure from his.

At the next drag of his hips across your cunt, you felt the pressure slide downward and leave you. Your thighs still felt his torso squeezed between them but the lack of support under your pelvis startled you and you began to pull back.

“No, no, sweet thing,” Buggy soothed, “Stay right here.” He trapped you to him with a hand to the back of your head and the other gripping the back of your shoulder. Your sense came back to you a little bit, reminding you of the chop chop fruit, and you relaxed slightly. Foggy eyes watched you as your muscles loosened and you eased back down for your mouths to meet again. The hand in your hair became a fist, urging you even closer, while the other disappeared. The feel of smearing makeup added to the delicious mess of the kiss, all wet lips and sliding tongues.

You slowly raised your hips up in the air, pressing your chest more firmly into his and relieving your thighs of the burn from keeping yourself hovered. Your elbows took the rest of your weight and your hands clung to Buggy’s shoulder and bicep. The air of the room sent a chill through you with how it contrasted to the wet heat you had presented. You weren’t chilled for long though; the draft of the room suddenly stopped reaching you and the bed dipped between your knees as a weight settled there. You felt knees nudging the inside of your own further apart and you happily let them, eagerly arching your cunt even higher.

“Such a good fucking girl,” Buggy growled against your lips. Warm skin met the back of your thighs then the plush of your ass. You let out chirping moans, muffled against his mouth, in burning joy when you felt the slide of his bare cock drag through your lips. “Such an eager little bitch for me; you ever go ass up for him?”

“No,” you panted. “N-no -hah- never, Captain.” Buggy nipped at your lips before he started his way down to your neck. You eagerly arched your chin up and out of the way, getting rewarded with a boiling hot lick across your pulse. Between his ravenous mouth and grinding hips, you were losing track of anything but the impulse to chase what feels good. And all of his touch ravaging over you felt so fucking good.

The way your hips circled back into his had Buggy losing his mind - he needed to grab at every piece of you, feel you under lips and tongue and teeth and nails, and he needed to feel your warm swollen walls wrapped around him. A thought occurred to him and his mouth flung to your ear.

“Has he ever fucked you raw?” It came out as more of an angry snarl than real words. “Did you let yourself be his little slut?” Hips pressed forward meanly, nearly lifting your knees off of the bed with how he was forcing you to arch. “Answer me.” A hand clamped onto your jaw. Fingers released your hair to dig into the sides of your neck.

“No, sir!” you gasped, delicious pain bringing you back some clarity.

“My perfect girl.” You felt the grumble of his voice vibrate from his chest to yours. Your jaw was released. The punishing pressure on your spine eased as Buggy backed off, only to use his free hand to guide your hips back into greedy grinds. You wanted his handprint marked there forever, and Buggy wouldn’t disappoint. The grip controlling your neck jerked you to look him in the eyes. They were blurry and black with lust, looking like they would be quenched by nothing less than swallowing you whole. “Waiting for your Captain to be the one in your cunt? Already knew that you’re my whore?” The clumsy huffs and moans of “yes” that spilled from your mouth went straight to Buggy’s cock, each one making it throb against you.

“Let me.” His knees pressed at yours and you spread even wider, opening up enough for your clit to constantly rub between the base of his cock and his heavy balls. “Gotta be inside you - own every part of you.” His dominating grip on your hip forced the long grinds into tight circles weighted on your clit. Buggy tugged you down in a quick, needy kiss, tasting the whines on your tongue. “Fuck, give it to me; be mine and I’ll fuck you like this every day, buy you anything you want, do anything you want.”

You were so close already, head buzzing from his rabid pleas and the restricting grip into the sides of your neck. Your heartbeat had moved to pound between your hips, matching the rhythm of his hips grinding into you. If it weren’t for his hand at your neck, your head would’ve lolled forward to leave you drooling against his chest.

Buggy’s detached hand slid over your ass to guide the head of his cock to press at your twitching entrance. The moment he was lined up, his hand flipped down to cup your mound and grind the heel of his palm over your swollen bud. His head stretched you wider than you’re used to and you were already tripping over the edge when you felt yourself pop over the rim of his tip. “Gods, fuck, sweets, you feel like heaven.” He kept sliding in, the stretch not easing as he worked you open. “Never -nnngh- leaving this cunt.” The forearm around your back forced you into his chest even harder. “Gonna tie you up and fuck you all day, shit!” His hips finally met yours, rooted right above the palm still massaging at you.

The first drag back, full of his mushroomed tip pulling at your clenching walls, was your favorite thing you’d ever felt. You could only manage its deliberate push and pull, ending with a shove you felt pressing through your stomach, three more times. “Yes -hahh- yes, y-yes -nnnnghaahh- yes, yes, yes yesyesyes”

Bright pleasure tore up your spine to explode in your head and fizzle out through your every muscle. Your eyes screwed shut, your feet kicked up to clench by your jolting hips, and your fingers dug and trembled into Buggy’s skin. You shoved your head down, forehead pressing into the sweaty side of Buggy’s neck, open mouth gasping out hot air and high pitched moans. Distantly, you heard him darkly muttering, “Fucking hell, good slut, goddamn you’re perfect -mmmmnnhh- my perfect girl.”

Buggy’s grip on you became bruising as he held off on cumming with you. He’d just barely got a taste of the squeeze of your cunt and he needed more. He’d grit his teeth in desperation when he felt you milking him so soon after he had adjusted to the blissful feeling of sinking into you. Now he was absolutely sure he was going to steal you away and keep you forever. He needed to feel your pleasure and desperation at his touch every second of every day for the rest of his life.

“Such a whore, so eager to cum for me,” Buggy praised. He was brushing your hair from your face with shaky fingers, guiding you back from your orgasm. He continued his steady thrusts into you but eased up on his palm when your body went limp. You looked absolutely pathetic slumped against him, ass held in the air still being used for his pleasure.

“That stupid boy ever get you to sound like that?” he goaded. The closest you got to giving a response was a breathy “nuh”. Buggy kissed at your hairline and began picking up the speed of his hips. “That’s what I thought. Now be a good pussy and milk me dry.”

Buggy’s thrusts became punishing and insistent, chasing the blissful pulsing clench of your cunt that he felt at the end of every full stroke. The heel of his palm jostled your clit with each slap of his hips against you, slipping easily against you from how much he had you dripping. Even so, your nerves burned in a way that was just slightly too much. You arched harder to try and lighten the sensation but that only angled your hips so that he hit his hand harder on each thrust. Every impact felt like an electric shock, knocking a high and breathy moan from you each time.

“Sounds so good, treasure, keep singing for me,” Buggy moaned, breath tickling the top of your ear. He wanted to slow himself down to hear you longer, taste you longer, feel the hot wet plush of your pussy forever, but he couldn’t control himself no matter how hard he tried. His body clung to and plunged into you, driven by uncontrolled instinct. He needed to grab and consume you until he couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. He’d finally admitted to himself how much he was dying to see and own all of you. Now he had you blissed out and pliant against him and he could no longer stand living without knowing the feeling of emptying his cock into you.

“Captain,” you hiccuped, “C-Captain Buggyyyyy, ‘s too much.” You tilted your head up to moan and bite at his neck, needing something to ground you. The salt and heat on your tongue cut through some of the blinding haze. Your fingers kept digging at him to find some kind of anchor in those slick, tensing muscles.

“You can do it, sweets,” he encouraged breathlessly. “Just -fuck- just be my good whore, just let me hahhhave my fill and I’ll -nnngah- help you rest.” You managed a weak “yes sir” between your moans and whines and Buggy’s hips managed to give you even more. Every nerve he touched inside you was scorching and screaming with the delicious friction and stretch of him pounding into you. Buggy felt the same searing bliss ripping through him, emptying his mind of everything but desire and possession.

Buggy groans, “So close! You’ve been soooooo fucking good for me, my perfect slut.” The hand at your neck had switched back into fisting your hair, so he could drag you up and moan right in your ear. The palm at your clit became a tightly circling thumb and your limp body jolted back to life, clawing, grinding, shaking, and gasping. “That’s fucking it, treasure, need you to cum again and -ahh- I’ll fill you up.”

You used whatever strength you had left to bounce back on his hips. Your used muscles were pounding and swollen, but the praising sounds and extra friction you got with each move had you never wanting to stop. You never knew how good it felt to be fucked hard enough for the force to ripple through the flesh of your ass and thighs and stomach and breasts and you’d do anything to keep feeling it. The crushing grip on your hip kept you steady any time you faltered from your trembling muscles and blanking mind. You don’t think you’ve ever felt like this, so completely insatiable, so deliciously overwhelmed, so voraciously claimed. The blazing signals shooting to your head from between your legs started to burn so bright that they were losing detail. That was until all four of Buggy’s fingers touched the very base of your stomach and pushed down hard.

“Buggy! Buggy! Buggy!” You kept yelping, and his eyes rolled back from the sheer ecstasy of hearing you like this. You were already tight, muscles clamping down hard and winding up for your orgasm but this… There was a firmer pressure with each stroke, especially when he knocked as deep into you as you could stretch, and he was drooling at the fact that his fingertips could feel him fuck himself into you.

“So good, holy shit -hahnngh- you feel so fucking good, treasure, gonna cum,” Buggy was beside himself panting and groaning out for you. His fraying voice became biting and fierce, rabid with need and absolute command. “Need you to cum - cum for your Captain.”

“Yes, sir, yessir please please,” you sobbed into his chest feeling so close but also already over the precipice and feeling everything and numbing out. Your body was going haywire with how good and how much everything felt and you needed something to hold onto.

“Good fucking girl, good -nnnngh- you’re mine, mine, mine-” Buggy’s voice was all gravel and possession and he chanted the only word he could manage when his balls pulled tight and his dick began to twitch. The clapping of his hips stopped, replaced with deep long grinds that had the weight of his jumping dick play with every inch of your walls and you were gone. You keened and sobbed out at the force of the feelings bursting through you and you could do nothing but quake in his grasp. The hot feeling of his cum pumping into you, cockhead tapping down at the push of his fingers on your stomach, had your eyes rolling back and your legs going limp.

Buggy was pretty sure he lost a minute or two there while he wasn’t able to think past hot, wet, and good. All he knew was that he finally got you and it was better than he ever imagined. His heart stuttered at the feeling of your panting breath cooling his chest and your sweet fingers clumsily trying to draw shapes on his skin. They kept falling limp between attempts due to the strength of your exhaustion, but you were adamant in your need to show him affection. His face split in a dopey grin. Buggy just knew you’d be the perfect little love and now you were his perfect little love. A smug snicker interrupted his heavy breaths from knowing he stole you away from that shithead, and he was going to make sure to pamper you so you’d stay and never have to cry to yourself again.

Buggy nudged you to the side so that your spine would get some relief from arching. He couldn’t have just let you straight down without your hips being forced down under the weight of his past the edge of his torso. You weren’t allowed to go far though; he felt as if he’d tear apart anything that interrupted all your skin to skin contact. You hummed deep in relief at the change in position and nuzzled your face into Buggy as thanks. He kissed his bright smile onto the top of your head and began massaging a hand into your lower back. This time you moaned at the relieving feeling, earning a chuckle from him.

“Better?” Buggy asked.

“So much,” you answered. Your eyes and muscles felt heavy and your bones were made of lead. Your breathing had become soft and slow and steady in tandem with his, beginning to draw you under with the promise of a fulfilling slumber. You managed to mumble, “Thank you, Captain,” before you were gone. A more lingering kiss was placed on your head this time. While your mind wasn’t there to receive it, your body felt it and shifted just that much closer into Buggy’s warmth.

Buggy sighed, thinking of the mess that the two of you and the bed were and how much work it’ll be to do the necessary cleaning up. A large problem was detaching you from himself and an even larger and more difficult one was mustering the will to remove himself from you. He gave in to the comfort of holding you, pulling a spare blanket from a basket across the room to lay over you both. Still in deep sleep, you hummed contentedly at the new comfort and warmth, melting Buggy’s heart further. He peppered a few more indulgent kisses onto your temple and hair before snuggling his cheek down into you. He’d decided a little nap wouldn’t hurt.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

#buggy x reader #buggy the clown #one piece #my writing #thirst hours #anon request #buggy x y/n #buggy x you #fem reader #afab reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy #buggy smut #x reader

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the-kr8tor · 9 months ago

Text

In Pursuit of Blood: A trip down goblin lane.

Pairing: Vampire! Hobie Brown x fem! Vampire hunter! Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Synopsis: You, an amateur vampire hunter, find it really hard to kill the one vampire you were tasked to kill.

Tags: Use of Y/N sparingly, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), same universe as the WWDITS series, CW blood, TW violence, CW suggestive, Mockumentary AU, established relationship, Fluff.

A/N: Special thanks to @al1x00 (ly fr) for the idea! Happy 1k! 🫶 (Enjoy my attempt at humor lol)

Navigation

Hobie's Masterlist

The camera focuses on a leather clad man sitting on a patchwork armrest. His long leg is crossed over the other, metal clinking against each other when he moves. He places his elbow on the armrest, hand under his chin, ringed fingers tapping on his cheek—bored and clearly disinterested. Red eyes lined with dark eyeliner, piercings glimmering under the camera lights, sharp nails painted, he makes the crew suck in a breath.

He's the perfect picture of a rockstar.

The dimly lit gothic home provides the perfect backdrop to the ‘confession booth’, various books, knick knacks from far flung places are littered all over the living room. A grand piano stands proudly to his left, dark oak polished and well taken care off. Tapestries from the sixteenth century are tacked on the walls next to seventies and eighties band posters. His coat rack is full of jackets that look like they come from different times in history.

The producer nods at him, asking for the man's name, his voice just above a whisper so that the microphones don't catch the sound.

He sighs, jaws tighten for a second. “Name's Hobie, Hobie Brown.” His voice shakes the crew's bones. The blond haired producer clears his throat and Hobie rolls his eyes like a spoiled celebrity. “And I'm a vampire.” he says flatly.

The blond gestures for him to continue, asking him how old he is. “Fuckin' hell.” Hobie says under his breath. “Were you not taught manners? Come off it, you don't ask a vampire their age.”

The clipboard holding man, who pretends to be important, asks him why he agreed to the interview if he's so disinterested.

“Fine,” He smiles, showing his sharp fangs, the simple act makes the documentary team's heart skip a beat. “Before you say ‘m following a trend of vampires givin' interviews and a ‘peak behind the cape’ like the wankers in staten island or the lovebirds in dubai. ‘m not, ‘m only doin' this because,” he points dramatically at the clipboard holding man. “Your director told me all proceeds from this goes to charity. And it better be—”

Something thumps outside. The camera sharply turns to the closed floor length curtains.

“Oi, eyes back ‘ere.” Hobie exclaims, the camera whizzes back to his figure. “Again, vampire, been alive for…” he inhales, “a long bloody time. Been a pirate, a cowboy, hell even a rockstar. But always an anarchist.” He says proudly. “I've been rebelling against the one who bit me for centuries,” the camera zooms in on his scowl. “Hate that knobhead.”

Something falls right outside his windows, a groan and a curse sounding out, voice muffled by the walls.

The crew expects Hobie to hiss or even deal with the intruder but he smiles, posture loosening up.

“That,” he points at the source of the ruckus. “That’s a vampire hunter.” Smiling, the crew could hear a muffled ‘fuck you’ behind the walls. “She's been hunting me for a few years now. She—eh, hasn't been close.”

The cursing was louder, camera swishing towards the source, your angry face peeking out from the curtains. The boom mic captures your annoyed growl clearly as you place your face as close as possible on the glass.

“Fuck you, Hobart!”

He chuckles as the crew's face grows with concern. “Don't worry, she's—I guess bad at her job. She's interestin’ though. Y’know what, let me just show you.” He stands up, the cameras and the entire crew follows him through the hallways of his home.

The cameraman almost trips on a stray guitar on the floor. “Careful now, that was a present from some rockstar in the seventies. That's why I leave it on the floor, it works best as a boot scraper.”

Hobie stops in front of double doors, scenes of a love story are carved on the wood.

“It was a gift.” He addresses the doors, “not my first choice but where else would I put the bloody thing?” With a small push, hands braced on both doors, he reveals the expansive room lined with hundreds of paintings and photographs.

He sucks in his teeth. “The entire house is a gift, I'd rather live in a boathouse honestly but this works fine I guess.” Shrugging, he points at the oldest looking wood carving hanging on the wall. A man kneels in front of a woman, rose in his hand as she looks down at him with glee.

“Yes, that's me courting. The wood carver fucked up the scene though, it was more like me ravaging– uh” he clears his throat “…this won't show in pbs right?”

The people behind the cameras shrug as Hobie looks to them for an answer.

“I'll tone it down then, for the children, just in case.” He continues down the lineup of pictures.

Stopping by a large painting of what looks like Hobie in medieval clothing. The painted version of him is surrounded by flowers and trees. His antlers protruding from his head, webs clings to his arms.

“This was when people thought I was fae.” He makes a face, “everyone was tripping on shrooms back then.” walking towards the middle of the room, passing by a few more paintings and tapestries, He pauses on a yellowed painting of a woman who looks similar to you, only less angry.

“Look at her,” sighing, the vampire has heart eyes while looking at the painting. “this was before she was cursed by that bitcharse jealous witch. Now every descendant of hers is cursed to never harm me or any of my spawns, which is bad because they all think I killed their ancestor, and all they want is to kill me. A consequence of dating a vampire hunter during the fifteenth century, I guess.”

“The curse is a two way street, they can't kill me, I can't hypnotize them. It's not that I want to anyway.” he continues.

Another ruckus echoes throughout the house. Hobie smiles again. “I believe she doesn't know about it, so hush, yeah?” He does a double take. “Wait, can you cut that part out?”

—

The second crew runs towards you as you climb the tresses of the house. The camera lens zooms in on your clumsy climbing. Looking down, hearing leaves crunch underfoot, you yelp in surprise.

“What—?!” Losing your hold, you fall on a bush, landing directly at his wild flowers. “Ow! Who the fuck—?!”

—

Now sitting down on a lawn chair, leaves stuck in your hair, face and clothes covered in dirt, you scowl at the producer behind the camera.

Sighing, clicking your tongue, you answer their questions with another question. “Who the fuck are you guys?”

You raise an eyebrow at the words ‘documentary crew’ uttered by the producer.

“Seriously? Who would want to interview Hobart? Scratch that, is it because of those fuckers in staten island?”

A cameraman answers, ‘for charity.’

You blink in surprise, “charity? You fuckin' kidding me? Well if it's for the kids then.” sighing, you resign, looking directly at the camera with disdain, you say your first name. “And I'm a vampire hunter, I mean obviously I am just looking at all the stakes and holy water strapped to me. I look like I'm very fun at parties.” You say jokingly, “and church, probably. Dunno never been.”

The camera cuts back to Hobie still in the large room full of paintings and memorabilia.

“— I didn't do anythin’ wrong. They're absolutely mad at me for no reason—” he stops, thinking. “But I guess I was the reason their family was cursed innit?”

He changes subjects, showing the camera a painting near the end of the room.

“Oh this? This is when her great great great great grandfather almost got me, memories huh? He was mighty fit.” The crew zooms in on a gorgeous painting of a man trying to put a stake through Hobie's heart while he smiles up at him like he's smitten.

“Good times.” He chuckles.

—

“Fuck this.” You say, standing up from the chair, grabbing the mic off from your shirt abruptly. The camera follows you as you grab the lawn chair that you were just sitting on. You then proceed to throw it at a stained glass window. Giving you entry to his abode.

“It was gaudy anyway.” Entering the house, your shoes crunch the broken glass.

—

“Huh, she's inside. That's a record.” Hobie says almost excitedly. “I'll show you the rest of the room after this—.”

The double doors burst open, the camera swivels to you and the camera crew behind you. Holding a stake, you scowl at Hobie.

“Hello, darling, how was your commute?” He genuinely smiles.

“I have a car now, fuck you!” You lunge at him.

Lightning fast, he grabs your wrist right before the stake kisses his chest. The camera crews film on the sides, avoiding getting hit themselves.

“Good for you, finally saved up then?”

Lifting your legs, you kick his chest, you tumble, landing on your feet, staring at him menacingly. “Yes! It's a kia!” you scream before you run full speed at him.

“You got a good deal on it? Automatic or manual?”

“No!” You swing at him, he dodges. “I think I got swindled!” Kick “And it's a manual!” Punch “I’m not a pussy!”

Hobie clicks his tongue, avoiding the pointed edge of the stake. “Point ‘em to me, love, maybe I can get you your money back.”

Stepping back further away, you pause while he stands at the end of the room. Changing your hold on the sharp wood, you throw it at him, he leans slightly, dodging the projectile. it hits the wall right next to your ancestor’s portrait.

“You'll just drink him dry like the last guy!”

He shrugs, making a face that makes you want to punch him harder. “Not my fault he was a knobhead.”

You bounce on your feet, pouncing at him. “He was my dentist!”

He moves to the side, seeing you running towards one of the paintings, in danger of getting smashed by you. In his panic, he raises his arm to stop you, accidentally clothes lining you. His wall-like arm hits you right on your face.

Falling harshly on the floor, you're completely unconscious.

Hobie looks at the cameras with concern. “Shit.”

—

You wake up on an ancient looking couch, it's soft despite its appearance. Lifting your head with a groan, headache punching through the back of your head, you grimace loudly at the camera crew still filming in the corner.

Falling back on the couch, you hide your flustered face with your arm, pulling the blanket further up your chest.

“I promise I'm not that bad at fighting.” You murmur, still hiding your face from the cameras. “You just caught me at a bad time.”

Hobie suddenly appears with a whoosh, he holds a metal tray with tea and a hot compress placed on it.

“Who's giving you a bad time?”

You audibly groan. “No one.”

He places the tray on the coffee table, sparing a quick glance at the camera. “I caught you lackin’ you're not always that bad. Tea?”

Wordlessly reaching up, you flip him the bird. Hobie smiles softly, tapping your legs to give him space on the settee. The documentary crew is surprised that you actually move to give way to him.

He sits by your legs, preparing your tea just like how you always take it. Two sugars and a dash of milk. The entire production staff is perplexed to say the least.

With a clink of the tea spoon against the cup, you sit up, wincing slightly. “Can I get another sugar cube?”

Hobie raises a brow, “it's that kind of day huh? What's bothering you, love?”

You scoff, taking a cube for yourself then plopping it in your tea cup. “Nothing.”

He flicks his eyes at the camera with a knowing glance. Resting his elbow atop his thigh, chin placed on his hand, he pokes at your leg using his foot. Wordlessly having a conversation. With a sigh and a frown, you sip at your tea.

“Ex kicked me out. Now I'm living with the family again.”

Hobie's nonchalance drops, hand instinctively reaching out to you until he realizes what he's doing, he retracts his hand back.

“Shit, ‘m sorry. Their loss.”

“Mm-hmm, consequences of living with someone you've only dated for three months.” You finish your drink in one gulp. “‘sides, I don't have to pay rent anymore.”

“You've got shitty taste in partners.” You snort, half agreeing with him. “But you have to live with your psycho family so there's that.”

You laugh, the camera zooms in on Hobie's pleased expression.

“They're tolerable now, mellowed out after they took out count Belois.” You look at Hobie, copying his position like a mirror.

“He was an arse, did all of us a favour.” he stares at your eyes while the camera continues to film, yet you two don't seem to notice them anymore.

“Yeah, wish I was there though.” You say in a small voice. “They never invite me to those hunts. Always left watching outside.”

Hobie reaches towards you again, this time he actually holds you. Long fingers curling around your wrist, his thumb rubbing gently. “If only they know how hard you could kick.”

“You barely moved when I kicked you.” Chuckling, your eyes sparkle under the dim lights.

“Well it's me,” he inches closer to you in the seat, knee brushing against yours. “But if it was any other vampire out there they would have flown.”

You scrunch your face. Laying your hand down to your thigh, Hobie intertwined his fingers around yours properly this time. The camera captures the confusing scene.

“Because they turned into a bat?”

He grins, showing you his teeth, you don't even flinch. “Nah, because you kicked ‘em too hard. Did you hit your head that hard?” Knocking his knuckles against your temple softly, you move back like lightning has struck you.

“No, I'm actually okay, thanks.” You take your hand away, eyes flitting nervously at the camera then to Hobie. “I gotta go, dinner with the psycho family.” Standing up, you take your belongings from the floor. “You know how it is.”

He looks up at you with an unreadable expression, “yeah, I know how it is.” He says forlornly.

Patting his shoulder awkwardly, your hand lingers for a half second. “Bye,” you stare at the crew in the corner, “bye to all of you, I guess. Don't get eaten.”

The camera pans towards Hobie who just shrugs, fangs poking out of his lips.

—

Hobie eats alone in his empty dining room. The table is long, made of strong narra, designed to sit a dozen or so people. He sits in the head of the table, utensils scraping against the bloodied plate. His goblet is full, untouched.

He looks up at the camera on the other side of the table, observing his every move.

“The table's a gift too.” He says before continuing to eat silently.

—

The camera follows Hobie throughout his day. Roaming aimlessly around the house, he floats above the ground, hand and feet sticking on the wall while he dusts pictures that's placed on the highest shelf.

In the afternoon, he writes music on his piano while he flashes back and forth towards the drums and guitar, testing the music he wrote.

The crew captures Hobie burying something in the backyard. Jacket off, tank top and bare arms in full display. Moonlight illuminating his skin. His necklaces clink together as he shovels in dirt, packing the hole in tightly. The producer asks something about familiars and Hobie scowls at the word.

“No, just no. ‘m fully against havin’ familiars, it's fuckin' wrong.” He sticks the shovel harshly on the soil when the producer questions him again. “Ask me again and you'll be the one ‘m burying next.”

The camera shuts off abruptly.

—

The small supermarket's repetitive jingle from the nineties irks Hobie as he shops for some meat. But what irks him more is the documentary crew finding him especially after he went out of his way to hide from them.

He tosses a box of your favourite tea in the basket, annoyed at the team behind the cameras and boom mics. “Do the lot of you have a tracker on me or somethin’?” Shaking his head, he stomps down the aisle, heavy boots thudding loudly on the floor.

With his leather jacket plus all the metal and spikes on him, Hobie looks like a regular punk shopping for groceries. But if you looked closer, stayed too long in his presence, your flight or fight response kicks in, rendering anyone frozen on the spot.

His ruby eyes scan around the soap display, trying to ignore the cameras and people trailing after him, he gets a whiff of a familiar scent: strawberries and cream, it's you.

Hobie's feet move on its own, carrying him towards your direction. He spots you standing in the fruit section, weighing a watermelon in your hands, knocking on it then listening to the sound closely like you're trying to eavesdrop.

“What's the watermelon saying?”

“Christ!” You jump, dropping the watermelon.

Thankfully he catches it before the fruit splatters on the linoleum. “Just me, love.”

Clutching your chest, you take deep breaths. “I thought I smelled something rotten.” He raises a brow at your comment. “What are you doing here? This is far from your place.”

“First of all, I smell like sandalwood and fresh linen, fuck you.” You snort, rolling your eyes. “And ‘m tryin' to avoid them.” He points behind him, towards the cameras.

“Augh, they're still following you?”

“Apparently I signed a contract, it's not a one time thing.” He places the watermelon back to the crate, taking one that is riper and sweeter just for you. He then gently drops it in your cart, you nod a thanks.

“I told you before don't sign anything when you're drunk off of alcohol filled blood.”

“You're right, lovie, should've listened to you. Can't blame me when I only hear music whenever you open your pretty mouth.” He leans on your cart nonchalantly, giving you his signature smirk that has people falling over themselves for centuries.

“That's not much of a compliment.” You grimace, unaffected by his charm. “Listen, since we're in a public place I'm not gonna try to kill you so please get off my cart, I've got some shopping to do.” Shaking the trolley, he leans away, dismayed. “Also, the owner seems to like me, which is rare enough, so I don't want to ruin my relationship with the old lady. Shoo, Hobart, I'm off the clock.”

“You've got two people who like you now. One more than the other, I suppose.”

You narrow your eyes towards the vampire. “Who's the second one.”

Hobie walks backwards, arm wrapped around his basket, smile blinding everyone in its vicinity. “Me, darling, isn't it obvious?”

The bright fluorescent lights shouldn't do him any favours but by god, he looks amazing under it.

You don't answer, the camera zooms into your hands gripping the handles of the shopping cart, chest heaving, swallowing thickly.

He leaves, going towards the cashier to pay for his groceries. And you spot a sign that's labeled ‘50% off on garlic!’ you glare at the camera, pushing the cart towards the display.

—

Hobie sits on his work table, pieces of a TV are jumbled out on the table as he tinkers with them. His hands shake slightly, he should really feed.

“—‘m pretty good with technology, not like the other vampires. I've adapted well with—” he sniffs, “wait, what's that smell?”

He opens the door to find thousands of garlic circling around his house, “what—?”

“Tada!” You pop out from the side, hands carrying bushels of garlic, no doubt smelling like it too. “Wait, no, not tada, that's in poor taste because you hate them.”

Hobie gags at the smell, eyes watery and irritated. “This is a bad idea!” He rubs at his eyes, tears fully streaming on his cheeks.

“Why? Because it's working?!” You cackle, throwing the vegetable like confetti, one lands right on top of your head.

“Because it attracts—!”

You screech when you feel a sharp tug at your coat. A little green creature shrieks at you, the sound rings your eardrums, almost breaking the boom mic. Its eyes are dark and glassy, ears pointed, teeth sharp.

“A Goblin?!” Falling on your ass, you crawl backwards, watching as more and more of them appear from the bushes.

“I'm a goblin.” The one with a worn out party hat says, voice cracking like foil.

“What are you a Pokémon?!”

Hobie runs after you as fast as he can with the garlic hindering him. “Get inside!” He yells, dragging you towards the door. His hands sizzle atop your arms, the garlic searing his skin.

The creatures skidaddles towards you, towards the smell of garlic. Waves upon waves of green skitter and crawl on all limbs, eyes hungry, mouths agape.

“Hobie!” You hold on to his wrists as the ground scratches your back. Kicking an incoming goblin, you yelp as the door closes at the nick of time.

Claws scratch at the windows and walls. One of them even bangs its head hard on the glass just to get to you.

Hobie hides you behind him, eyes still stinging and skin aflame. “Get to the basement!” He screams when one breaches the house with glass shattering. “Go!”

Running down, Hobie lets you and the crew go first. He grabs a cutlass from the wall, chopping one that comes a little too close to your leg.

You look back at him with worry. “Hobie!”

“I'll be there! Just go!” He grabs one by the neck, throwing it away haphazardly.

It yells a faint ‘whee’ as it sails through the house.

Reaching the large basement, you search for the light switch, a cameraman beats you to it and you yelp at the sudden brightness.

The basement is full of things from different centuries. An iron maiden lays discarded on the corner, its steel rusted and brown. A sculpture of a woman sits on a shelf, it looks like it's a long lost work of Rodin. There's a large tapestry depicting a vampire war that is now collecting dust on the wall.

But the thing that catches your eyes is the massive metal cage that sits in the middle of the room. You would gawk but the swarm of goblins are nearing the basement. The familiar thumping of boots shakes you with relief.

“Cage!” Hobie grabs you effortlessly, you have no time to react as he carries you like a duffel bag by your waist.

The crew follows frantically, closing the metal doors shut behind them just as the swarm gets close. They shriek and bang on the bars, little arms trying to reach towards you.

He lays you back to your feet, dropping the drenched sword on the ground, palms still healing. He cups your face, searching for any injuries.

“You alright?” He heaves, out of breath, legs covered in goblin bites and palms searing but he looks at you like you're the one who's bleeding.

Staring at him with your irises blown out, mouth slightly parted, you embrace him to his surprise and the crew's.

“I'm okay,” you lean away before he could hug back. Hands placed on his shoulders, nails digging into him like he's about to be yanked away from you. “Are you?”

Hobie forgets about the other people inside the cage and the goblins trying to nibble at him. It's only you in his hands, even though the pungent smell of garlic makes his nose itch. Eyes tender, touch gentle, he could only nod.

“Yeah, I'm good now.” His voice lacks the usual charm.

You can finally breathe. “I thought…I'm the only one that's allowed to kill you.”

Chuckling, he traces your jaw with his thumb. “I know. You're first in line, darling.”

The crew stands near the sides awkwardly.

—

The goblins are trashing Hobie's basement, and based on the sounds from upstairs, they're also wreaking havoc in the entire house.

You sit back to back with Hobie in the middle of the cage, away from the bars, hands braced to your sides, his own are mere inches away from yours. He's glad that the garlic smell has wafted away from you, but not enough to get rid of the goblins still hankering for your flesh.

The crew stays away from the openings of the cage whilst a handful of the creatures try to grab at their equipment. It's been hours since the initial attack and everyone's getting hungry and thirsty, including Hobie.

“Why do you even have a dungeon in your basement—? Wait, scratch that, don't answer.” You try to pass the time.

“It was for your great great uncle—”

“Ew!”

“Get your head out of the gutter.” He says flatly, hands shaking from hunger. “I got it so he has a safe place to transform every full moon.”

“What? Huh, so that's why that branch of the family is so hairy.”

He changes the subject. “What were you thinkin’ with the garlic?” Hobie lays his head right on your shoulder, craning his neck to face you, he uses the closeness to memorize your face. His crimson eyes are dimmer than you're used to.

“I dunno, I thought it was a genius idea back then. Y’know, trap you inside, starve you then when you're weak enough I'd put a stake through your heart.”

“It's a good thing you're bloody fit.” He murmurs, chuckling quietly. “You almost got me though.” Your ears pick up the fatigue in his voice.

“And here I thought you fancy me for my amazing personality.”

“That too.” He smiles weakly, feeling the ache in his bones. “We need to get out of here.” His jaw visibly tightens, wanting to get away from you and your scent. Unfortunately it's not so easy when you're trapped.

“I know,” You sigh, Hobie sits up, covering his ears with the heels of his palms. “You okay?”

“I can hear your blood rushing through your veins.” He bites the inside of his cheeks. “Fuck, we really need to get out of here.” Standing up on wobbly feet, you help him up while the crew stands as far as they can without getting slashed by goblin claws.

“You're hungry.” You state the obvious.

“Starvin’” his red eyes flick down to your neck, already feeling guilty from the simple look.

You swallow thickly. “When was the last time you drank?”

“A couple days ago.” His vision blurs.

“Why are you starving yourself?” Scolding him, you guide him back down on the cold granite. “Hobart.”

“Why do you keep callin' me that?” Cold hands against your own, his eyes zeroes in on your face, avoiding the veins in your neck. “You sound like her when you call me that.”

Your eyes soften, warming him with your palms atop his cheeks, you worry. “You haven't answered my question.”

He groans, head lolling backwards. “Got busy, forgot what day it was.”

“Busy with what?” You click your tongue, lifting his head back up with your hands under his head. You search his hungry eyes, making a decision you could regret in the long run.

“If I let you feed, will you be able to get rid of the goblins?”

That has him picking his head back up, waking him up from his hungry stupor. “What—?”

You reiterate, voice determined. “If I let you drink from me can you get your strength back and get rid of the little fuckers?”

“Y/N, I can't let you do that.”

“I know what happens if you don't feed and judging by how the goblins are devouring your entire house like some frat, they aren't leaving soon enough.” You ball his shirt in your hands for emphasis. “I'm letting you drink, just this one time so we could all go home.”

“Are you really sure?”

“Just don't turn me into your spawn, deal?”

Hobie cracks a smile, fangs glinting off the basement lights. You suddenly feel your nerves kicking in.

“I promise I won't. Just tell me if it gets too much, yeah?”

“Okay,” you inhale deeply, tugging down the collar of your shirt, showing him what he needs. “Don't drink me dry.”

“That depends, for all I know you taste brilliantly.” His joke alleviates your fear a little. You're both unaware of the cameras watching, recording everything. Even forgetting that they were there in the first place.

His hand is on the back of your neck, the other is gripping on to your arm like his life depends on it. Eyeing your skin, lips brushing along it, fangs barely piercing, he gives you enough time to lean away.

“Hurry on with it, I need to pee.”

With a deep chuckle, he sinks his teeth in you.

Gasping, you bite down on your bottom lip, stifling any sounds. But Hobie can hear them from your chest, feel how your body quivers with every suck and nip from his teeth.

You whimper and he holds on to you tighter.

He wants to devour you whole, his instincts tell him to ravage you until you're dry and limp in his arms— to rip you apart with his bare teeth. But he doesn't, he's careful and gentle like he's drinking nectar straight from a flower.

“F-fuck…” you let out, hands shaking, sliding down to the back of his neck, pressing him closer.

He turns warmer with your crimson flowing through him, not letting a single drop of the precious liquid dribble from his mouth.

Hobie feels like his dead heart beats once again after centuries.

Eyes closed, you feel like you're on cloud nine. You look like it too, eyes hazy, lips parted, hand holding on to him weakly.

Before he could drown in you, Hobie carefully eases his teeth out from your pierced skin, maw covered in your blood, thumb pressing down to your wounds to stop the bleeding.

It will scar, but you're alright with that thought.

He feels anew. His eyes are sharper, adrenaline coursing through him like your blood in his system. His ears perked at every breath you let out. Eyes blown up like the size of dinner plates, his warm breath fans your cheeks.

Half of him regrets doing it, now that he has gotten a taste, he can't go back to biting random rich assholes. His other half delights in your after taste, so sweet and nectarine that makes him crave more.

You crane your neck slowly like molasses to look at him sweetly through your half lidded eyes, and a soft yet tired smile on your lips. Still clinging into euphoria, vision swirling and heart beating a thousand times per second. You feel like you've ascended and you'll never go down from it.

Licking his teeth, Hobie resists the urge to dive back in. But he's more than that, you're more than a blood bag.

“You alright?” He whispers, he smells like you.

You hum, smiling giddily like a child who just got what she wanted.

“‘m gonna go and kill some goblins now. Stay here for me?”

You hum a tune that sounds like a rendition of ‘happy birthday.’ Giggling, you pat his cheek.

“Yeah, you'll be alright. I'll get you some orange juice after this.”

“Orange sounds nice… such a pretty color. And cookies, yum.” You chortle like you just heard the best joke. “Oh handsome, so handsome. I'm gonna bite you back one day.” Staring up at him, your eyes roll back, falling unconscious.

“Lookin' forward to it.”

Hobie gently lays you down on the floor, standing up, ears listening to your fast heart beat, but it's not enough proof for him. Eyes observing your chest, watching it go up and down, making sure he didn't go too far. Satisfied, he points at the crew cowering in the corner, their cameras still rolling. The documentary won't air anywhere at this rate.

“Watch her.” He says sternly, eyes glaring.

They all nod frantically.

With a swift kick to the metal door, he strikes down every goblin he sees.

—

You sit on the same patchwork armchair, sipping on a warm cup of tea, comfortable and content in your seat. The two pin prick scars on your neck peeks under your collar. The camera has you in the spotlight, zoomed in on your freshly washed face.

“Do you know about the curse?” The man behind the camera asks, his voice wavering with every word like it's taboo to mention it.

“What curse?” You watch as their faces morph into panic. “I'm fucking with you,” you laugh at their expense.

“Of course I know about it. Why do you think I hunt him down? For fun? Well, partly because of it but we broke that curse like five generations ago when my ancestor figured it all out and made friends with the witch.”

Smiling fondly, you continue. “She's my godmother now. Don't tell him.” You warn. “Hunting him down is an initiation for us really, a tradition to try and kill him, just really doing our best to cause damage. He's pretty powerful.”

Laying your elbows on your knees, you look directly at the camera.

“I mean you've seen the room right? He's fucking obsessed, someone has to off him or just—I honestly think he should just move on.” shrugging you sip your tea that he made for you.

“Is that why you're living with him?” They ask unabashedly. The camera zooms out, showing you still in your pajamas, complete with fluffy slippers.

“Uh—”

Hobie appears in the corner, leaning on the doorway casually, a similar pajama pants hanging low on his hips.

“Darling, have you seen my good jumper—?”

You take your crossbow from under the chair, twisting in your seat, you aim it at his head, shooting, the arrow whizzes past him, he ducks down as the arrow imbeds into the oak.

Hobie laughs on the floor, lifting up a black and red jumper. “Found it!”

“Goddamnit.” The word is laced with endearment. You turn back towards the crew, eyes narrowed at them. “Wait, why are you guys here so early?”

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

A/N: Thank you for reading! And happy 1k! 🎉

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cool-fancier · 4 months ago

Text

Possessed by Jealousy

Synopsis: You and Jennie's chance encounter at an art gallery blossoms into a deep, passionate relationship, fueled by shared interests and a possessive, all-consuming love.

Word count:2.6K

You and Jennie first crossed paths in a setting far removed from the glitz and glamour of Seoul’s nightlife. It was at an art gallery opening in a quaint neighborhood of the city, a stark contrast to the usual party scene you both frequented. The gallery was hosting an exhibition showcasing contemporary art from emerging local artists, and it had attracted a crowd of art enthusiasts, collectors, and those simply curious about the latest cultural trends.

You arrived at the gallery with a friend, eager to experience something different from the usual social gatherings. As you walked through the doors, you were greeted by the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. The atmosphere was sophisticated yet relaxed, with artworks displayed against pristine white walls, each piece sparking conversations among the attendees.

Jennie was there for a different reason. She had a genuine passion for art and had decided to attend the opening to support a friend of hers who was exhibiting their work. Dressed casually yet stylishly, Jennie blended in effortlessly with the crowd. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she moved from one piece to another, occasionally pausing to appreciate a particular artwork or engage in discussion with fellow art lovers.

You were drawn to a striking piece—a vibrant abstract painting that seemed to capture a whirlwind of emotions. As you stood in front of it, lost in thought, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you were met with Jennie’s warm smile. She had noticed your interest in the painting and was curious to hear your thoughts.

“I’ve always found this piece fascinating,” Jennie said, her voice soft but confident. “It’s like it’s trying to tell a story, but it leaves so much to the imagination.”

You were momentarily taken aback by her observation. It wasn’t often that someone so effortlessly connected with art in the way Jennie did. You smiled back, intrigued by the genuine interest she displayed. “I agree. It feels like there’s a lot of emotion and movement captured here. What do you think it’s trying to say?”

Jennie’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm as she engaged in a deeper discussion about the painting. The two of you quickly discovered a shared appreciation for the abstract and modern art, and the conversation flowed easily. As you discussed various interpretations of the artwork, you realized that Jennie had a keen insight into the subject, and her passion was infectious.

“Do you come to many of these openings?” you asked, genuinely interested in her response.

Jennie nodded, her smile growing. “I do, actually. I find that art can be such a powerful way to understand different perspectives and emotions. It’s like each piece has a story waiting to be discovered.”

You found yourself drawn to Jennie’s enthusiasm and her thoughtful approach to art. It was refreshing to meet someone who was not only knowledgeable but also genuinely interested in the world around her. The conversation continued, with Jennie guiding you through different sections of the gallery and sharing her insights on various pieces.

As the evening progressed, you and Jennie discovered more common interests. You both had a love for travel, a fascination with different cultures, and an appreciation for the finer details in life. The gallery’s atmosphere seemed to encourage deeper connections, and you felt an undeniable bond forming between you.

At one point, Jennie led you to a quieter corner of the gallery where a small sculpture was displayed. It was an elegant piece, and Jennie admired it with a thoughtful expression. “This one is by a local sculptor. They’ve managed to convey so much emotion with just a few simple lines.”

You nodded in agreement, captivated by the way Jennie described the sculpture. Her observations were insightful, and you could tell that her appreciation for art went beyond mere aesthetics. You both shared your interpretations of the piece, finding common ground in your perspectives.

As the night went on, you and Jennie continued to explore the gallery together. The initial spark of connection had blossomed into a genuine friendship, built on shared interests and meaningful conversations. By the end of the evening, you felt a sense of gratitude for the unexpected encounter.

Before you parted ways, Jennie suggested grabbing a coffee sometime to continue your conversation. “I’d love to hear more about your thoughts on art and travel,” she said, her smile warm and inviting. “How about we meet up next week?”

You agreed enthusiastically, exchanging contact information and making plans to continue your newfound friendship. The gallery opening had turned into something more than just an evening of art; it had become the beginning of a meaningful connection with someone who shared your passions and interests.

— — — — — —

In the weeks that followed, you and Jennie met up several times, each encounter deepening your bond. You explored different parts of the city, visited new art exhibits, and discussed everything from travel experiences to personal philosophies. Jennie’s presence in your life brought a new sense of joy and inspiration, and you found yourself looking forward to each meeting with excitement.

One particular day, you decided to visit a quaint café that had recently opened in a nearby neighborhood. The café had an artistic vibe, with colorful murals on the walls and a cozy, intimate atmosphere. Jennie arrived, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the café’s unique decor.

“This place is adorable!” Jennie exclaimed as she looked around. “I love the creativity they’ve put into the design.”

You agreed, and the two of you settled into a corner booth, sipping on coffee and chatting about your latest adventures. The conversation flowed effortlessly, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment in Jennie’s company.

As you both continued to share your stories and ideas, you realized that your connection had evolved into something deeper. What had started as a chance encounter at an art gallery had blossomed into a meaningful relationship. Jennie’s presence had become an integral part of your life, and you cherished the moments you spent together.

One evening, as you were walking through the city’s streets, you came across a picturesque park. The park was adorned with twinkling lights and a serene atmosphere, creating the perfect setting for a heartfelt conversation. Jennie looked at you with a thoughtful expression, and you knew that she felt the same way about your connection.

“I’m really glad we met that night at the gallery,” Jennie said, her voice soft and sincere. “It feels like our paths were meant to cross.”

You smiled, feeling a sense of warmth and appreciation. “I couldn’t agree more. Meeting you has been one of the best things that’s happened to me.”

As the evening came to a close, you and Jennie walked hand in hand through the park, enjoying the peaceful ambiance and the company of each other. The connection that had begun with a shared love for art had grown into a deep and meaningful bond, one that you both cherished.

From that night on, your relationship with Jennie continued to flourish. You both supported each other’s passions, shared new experiences, and built a strong foundation of trust and understanding. The gallery opening had been the catalyst for something truly special, and you were grateful for the chance encounter that had brought Jennie into your life.

— — — — — —

The lights of the party shimmered in a rainbow of colors, casting vibrant hues across the crowded room. The music thrummed in the air, a pulsing beat that seemed to resonate in every bone of your body. You were at one of those parties, the kind where everyone knew everyone, and where friendships were formed and deepened through laughter, shared secrets, and sometimes, the inevitable drama.

You spotted Jennie across the room, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd. She was talking to Jisoo, Rosé, and Lisa, her closest friends. The four of them were practically inseparable, always having each other’s backs. Tonight, they all looked particularly stunning, dressed to impress in their chic outfits. Jennie’s eyes landed on you, and a soft smile played on her lips. Your heart fluttered, knowing that smile was meant for you.

You wandered around, chatting with a few friends and acquaintances. At some point, a girl named Sarah approached you. You’d met her a few times before – she was sweet, friendly, and a bit of a flirt. Tonight, she seemed particularly interested in talking to you, standing a little too close, her hand occasionally brushing against yours as she spoke.

Unbeknownst to you, Jennie had been watching. Her smile faded, replaced by a hard, unreadable expression. She muttered something to her friends, who all turned to look in your direction. Rosé laughed, nudging Jennie playfully.

"Looks like someone’s getting a bit too close to your girl, Jennie," Rosé teased, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

Jennie’s jaw tightened. "She’s just being friendly," she replied, her voice cool, but her eyes betrayed her. There was a fire there, a possessive glint that made her friends chuckle.

"Friendly, huh? If you say so," Jisoo added, winking at Lisa, who grinned widely.

"Better go claim what’s yours before someone else does," Lisa quipped, her words laced with playful sarcasm.

Jennie took a deep breath, nodding. She excused herself from the group and made her way towards you. As she approached, Sarah was laughing at something you’d said, her hand lightly touching your arm. Jennie’s eyes narrowed, and she slipped her arm around your waist, pulling you close against her side.

"Hey, babe," she said, her voice dripping with casual possessiveness. "What’re you two talking about?"

You smiled, leaning into her touch. "Just catching up with Sarah. She was telling me about her trip to Paris."

"Sounds fun," Jennie replied, her tone polite but distant. She looked at Sarah, her gaze hardening slightly. "But I think it’s time we moved on. Lots of people to see tonight."

Sarah’s smile faltered a bit, but she nodded. "Of course. Nice seeing you, [Your Name]. Maybe we can catch up more later?"

"Sure," you replied, feeling Jennie’s grip tighten slightly around your waist. As Sarah walked away, Jennie turned you towards her, her eyes boring into yours.

"What was that about?" she asked, her voice low and demanding.

"Just talking, Jen. Nothing more," you assured her, placing a hand on her chest. "Why, are you jealous?"

Jennie’s eyes darkened, a slow smirk spreading across her lips. "You know I don’t like sharing, especially not with someone like her."

You couldn’t help but smile at her possessiveness. "You don’t have to worry about that. I’m yours, Jennie. Only yours."

Her eyes flickered with satisfaction. "Damn right, you are," she murmured, leaning in to press a firm, possessive kiss on your lips. You melted into her embrace, feeling the intensity of her emotions in that kiss.

— — — — — —

As the night wore on, Jennie’s friends continued to tease her, but it only seemed to fuel her possessiveness. She kept you close, her hands constantly on you, her eyes always watching. At one point, Rosé sidled up to you both, a cheeky grin on her face.

"You two are so good together," she said, winking at you. "But Jennie, you really need to learn to share."

Jennie scoffed. "Not a chance. Y/n is mine."

Lisa laughed, clinking her glass against Jisoo’s. "Cheers to that. Just don’t go scaring off all the other girls, Jennie. We need some fun too!"

Jennie rolled her eyes, but there was a playful smile on her lips. She turned back to you, her expression softening. "Come on, let’s get out of here."

You nodded, letting her lead you out of the party. The cool night air was a welcome relief from the stuffy, crowded room. Jennie pulled you close, her hands roaming possessively over your body as you walked.

"Where are we going?" you asked, your voice breathless with anticipation.

"Somewhere private," Jennie replied, her voice low and husky. "I need to remind you who you belong to."

— — — — — —

Your heart raced as she led you to her car. The drive was short, but filled with a charged silence, the tension between you almost palpable. When you arrived at Jennie’s apartment, she wasted no time, pulling you inside and pressing you against the door as soon as it closed.

Her lips were on yours in an instant, hungry and demanding. Her hands roamed your body, tugging at your clothes, her touch possessive and desperate. You moaned into her mouth, feeling the heat of her jealousy and need burning through you.

"Mine," she growled against your lips, her hands slipping under your shirt to touch your bare skin. "You’re mine, [Your Name]. No one else gets to touch you like this."

"Only yours," you whispered, your fingers tangling in her hair. "Always yours."

Jennie’s eyes blazed with desire as she kissed you again, her hands working quickly to remove your clothes. She pulled back for a moment, her gaze raking over your naked body, a satisfied smirk on her lips.

"Perfect," she murmured, her voice dripping with lust. "Absolutely perfect."

She led you to the bedroom, pushing you gently onto the bed. She stood at the foot of the bed, her eyes dark with desire as she slowly removed her own clothes, never breaking eye contact with you.

"You’re so beautiful," you whispered, your voice filled with awe and desire. "I love you, Jennie."

Her eyes softened for a moment, a tender smile playing on her lips. "I love you too, Y/n. More than anything."

Then, her expression shifted, the possessive hunger returning. She climbed onto the bed, her body pressing against yours as she kissed you deeply, her hands exploring every inch of your skin.

"You’re mine," she whispered against your lips, her voice a low, seductive growl. "And I’m going to make sure you never forget it."

Her hands moved with practiced skill, touching you in all the right places, driving you wild with desire. Her mouth followed, kissing and nibbling at your skin, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. You moaned her name, your body arching into her touch, completely at her mercy.

Jennie’s fingers found their way between your legs, teasing you with gentle, deliberate strokes. You gasped, your hips bucking against her hand, desperate for more.

"Tell me what you want," she murmured, her voice husky with desire. "Tell me how much you need me."

"I need you, Jennie," you moaned, your voice barely more than a whisper. "Please, don’t stop."

She smirked, her fingers moving faster, her touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Good girl," she whispered, her breath hot against your ear. "You’re mine, Y/n. Only mine."

You cried out as she pushed you closer and closer to the edge, her touch relentless and perfect. She kissed you deeply, swallowing your moans, her tongue dancing with yours in a passionate, possessive kiss.

When you finally came, it was with a shuddering gasp, your body trembling with the intensity of your release. Jennie held you close, her own body shaking with the force of her desire.

"Mine," she whispered again, her voice filled with satisfaction and love. "Always mine."

You nodded, too breathless to speak, but your eyes said everything she needed to know. You were hers, completely and utterly, and there was no one else you’d rather belong to.

As you lay in her arms, your bodies tangled together, the night seemed to stretch on forever, filled with whispered words of love and promises of forever. Jennie’s jealousy had only strengthened your bond, reminding you both of the fierce, unbreakable love you shared.

And as you drifted off to sleep, you knew that no matter what, you would always belong to each other.

#blackpink x reader #blackpink fanfiction #blackpink jennie #blackpink #blackpink imagines #blackpink scenarios #blackpink x fem #blackpink x you #blackpink smut #kim jennie x reader #kim jennie #jennie x reader #jennie

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auragasmics · 4 months ago

Text

A NIGHT IN OUR PAST!

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ˚ ₒ ∞ synopsis! Banquet Night, a time of class, grace, and digust. When invited to the yearly banquet hosted by tokyo’s elite, you and toji step into a glamorous world that hides remnants of the past you both barely survive. When the memories start rolling in and emotions of the past run high, who will crumble to the feet of the elite first, or will love light a way out for these two?

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ˚ ₒ ∞ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ˚ ₒ ∞ pairings! ! widow!fem!reader x toji fushiguro

˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ˚ ₒ ∞ ˚ ₒ ∞ cw! ! 14.6k words, dubcon, pwp, age gap (toji is 35, reader is 27), use of ocs, mention/talks of death, hints of fluff, implied anxiety/panic attack, implied flashbacks, use of alcohol, drunk sex(?), power play, vouyerism/exhibitionism, oversimulation, slight dom fem!reader, masturbation, toji hits from the side, fingering, oral(m → f), teasing, multiple orgasms, spitting, no protection, slow sex, implied marathon sex, sorry if i forgot some mwuah <3

˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ˚ ₒ ∞ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ˚ ₒ ∞ xoxo, chris! yeahhhhh…if this isn’t the epitome of self indulgent idk what is. thanks to my gracious beta reader @n3vr-f0und (thank you for reading these bricks i send you :3)

tags: @lalunanymph @mikyapixie @prettylvne @dongh9e @humantrashcan2000

m.list. pt. 2. pt.4

ONE NEW MESSAGE FROM: M’LADY

“WHENEVER YOU SEE THIS,

DON’T ASK ME WHY IT’S DOUBTED.

JUST TAKE IT WITH THAT SMILE.

PAYMENT: + ¥ 80,000

Again, Toji’s stuck grimacing at his phone screen. It comes with a heavy sigh as he rests his throbbing temple along the tinted glass of the car window.

It’s his typical trend to gasp, gawk, and mindlessly swipe at the screen whenever a payment from you enters his account but in a month’s time, he’s learned a valuable lesson.

Numbers don’t lie and neither have you.

He’s been under your care for a month, and not once have you failed to honor the haphazard agreement. In truth, Toji’s managed to accumulate 250,000 yen in the short month with you. He’s been thinking about it; He’s saved himself from financial ruin with more money than he could’ve hoped for, so why not leave?

Yet, there’s something worth more than all the money, all the wealth, and all the thoughts he’s had recently.

And that could be found right next to him— you squinting into the small hand mirror carefully swiping on lipstick he knows he’ll be dressed in once the night comes to its sinful close.

Would Toji say he’s fallen for you?

No, he knew this wasn’t love, not when he’s being paid 80,000 yen to do something he would’ve done for free—should you have asked him with that smile he loves so much. It wasn’t love but lately, Toji’s had his hands full of acquainting himself with every curve, every etching, and every nerve found across your body. It wasn’t love but Toji’s been finding solace in waking up in your bed with you snuggled up in his arms.

It wasn’t love, but right now Toji can’t help but allow himself to get lost in your artistry.

Beautiful, that’s the only word Toji can use when he’s at a loss like this. His azure irises hinge on your precocious care for detail, watching as you softly trace the curves of your lips in red.

So slowly does that shade of rouge melt upon your lips, as if nothing else outside the backseat of this car speeding down the Tokyo interstate matters. So mindful not to miss the thinning corners of your mouth too, ensuring that your grace permeates every inch of your being.

Toji’s thinking about what you’d possibly do once you drop the brush from the canvas, would you turn and grin at him out of that childish sense of accomplishment? Would you mark him with a kiss or two like you always do? Every artist signed their painting, and it’s due to you that Toji can break into the world he’s never known—or the world he barely escaped from.

Right now, he wouldn’t mind donning an extra accessory for the night. Just to walk into the room with your lipstick as a badge of honor that shows everyone in that room who he belongs—

“Toji!” your voice pulled Toji from his mediated fantasy.

Jolting awake from his wondrous thoughts, Toji nervously tucks his phone back into the breast pocket of his black suit before giving you his attention.

“Hm? What’s wrong, Baby?”

“This,” you sigh, dropping the small compact mirror from your face. Levering your neck, you turn to Toji for his thoughts. “Does this shade of lipstick go with my dress? I think it’s too…cheerful.”

“Isn’t that what you wanna go for? I mean, it is a banquet. Drab and depressing isn’t what I think of when it comes to events like this.”

“Ha!” you sneer, “Banquet amongst Japan’s elite. I rather sit at home and count how many times the street lights flicker.”

The flat of Toji’s palm coats your thigh, his pulsing grip teasing past the leg slit of your brown mulberry silk grown. “So…it’s boring? I’m sorry Princess, but ‘m just a little confused. Last month, you were all excited about gettin’ dressed up and going out, but now you hate it?”

“I don’t ‘hate’ it, I hate the people we’re about to encounter. Tokyo’s elite, remember? And…it’s the first time I’ll be showing my face in some years. But it’s just for barely an hour, then we can go—”

Toji found his way beside you, nuzzled at your side with his chin resting along the peak of your bare shoulder. He’s peering at you with heavy eyes, weighted by dreams waiting to waltz through his mind. His voice mirrors his new form, his deep voice softened by comfort.

“Tell me about these people you hate so much.”

There’s a longing breath that curls in the back of your throat, your lips twisted and pursed as you gather the best words to present your heartaches to Toji.

“These people…they’re heartless. They care only for their money and status, as if they too didn’t come from humble beginnings. When my husband and I were first invited to these events, I was just making my name as a business consultant and he was just making rank as a CEO.

And on that night, I’ve never met such a bunch of disgusting, rotten people. The men hound the women, and the women hate each other. Nothing is good enough for them, there’s always a complaint.”

“Yeah?” Toji echos, “So then, why are we going, Princess? It’s like we’re going straight into trouble. Not that I mind that—there’s always an adventure waiting—but it’s not your style.”

You drop your sights to meet Toji, his gentle-mannered stare washing over you with relief. But that glance you pay him comes with a heavy price—that bubbling urge to kiss his tepid smirk. It’s a need you could act on, but there’s a shrouding guilt staining your mind, one that you can’t ignore:

Your ex-husband.

The memories are still there, fresh in your mind. Even now as you vaguely speak on his name and legacy, it’s almost like he’s here, holding you in his arms, watching you with a smile on his face, playing the role of spectator to your timely crime.

It’s an act of betrayal in your eyes, in your gut, yet this longing to kiss Toji reigns with an iron fist over your will.

But it’s Toji who has you tucked beside him now, and he’s the only one listening to your dolors with attentive ears. He’s giving you all—the attention, time, and energy. Whether it was genuine was his concern alone, nothing for you to ponder, that conversation being between him and the universe.

For now, he’s here with you, taking in every word you say with a look of interest. He’s even tagging his palm to your waist, keeping you close to his side. He’s turning himself into a place of solace for you, which has you itching for more than just his attentive nature.

All the cards are present and in your favor—but the guilt of upheaved tradition denies the relief of giving into your desire.

You bear it with a harsh swallow, your eyes fluttering shut as you work to finish your explanation.

“Be-Because…as the wife of the former CEO, I’m now the unseen face of the company. I have to handle all the social affairs, to tend and mend relationships. Being here…going there to dine with people I despise…it’s all for him. And I intend on keeping all his hard work alive and thriving.”

“Aren’t you a good wife? Most men would travel through heaven and hell if it meant they would meet you in their next lifetime. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t let anyone look or speak to you wrong, especially when they have no clue of the burden you carry on your shoulders.”

He’s straightening himself up, sitting tall beside you from his slouched state. And of course, he’s still forgotten the mere idea of space, the pad of his thumb reaching to swipe along your powdered chin.

“Fuck…” Toji whispers, his sly smirk drifting dangerously close to your lips, “You’re just a good girl, after all, Princess.”

There’s room for mockery in his tone, something that has you waving off his favor with a shrug. “Stop it, don’t try to baby me, Toji. I—”

“ ‘m not trying to do that. Not in the slightest. I admire it, honestly. You don’t need my sympathy, and I wasn’t offering it up. Just take my praise and let it be, alright?”

Hesitantly, you accept Toji’s words, shooting your narrowed eyes to scan over his impartial mien.

“…Alright.”

Toji’s latent apology is a mere stare, his typical gaze eased by a nurturing glint. He's tentatively squeezing at your waist, luring you into his salacious trap.

His suave nature has your mind dizzy with everything Toji—his gentle smile, his warmth, his cologne wafting past your nose. He’s done nothing to you, yet that suppressed craving is flickering once more and it has you diving blindly into Toji’s stronghold.

Until the perfect excuse presents itself.

“Toji, wait! I’m all dressed up and it was a pain to get this!”

“Shhh, just giving you a kiss. I wouldn’t dare to ruin all your hard work. And besides…” He trails off, tilting his head towards the tinted glass wall separating the driver from the blooming scene.

“He can’t see a damn thing.”

“Fine,” you huff, “Just a kiss, okay?”

“Whatever you say.”

“No, I said just a kiss—”

Toji steals the last words of your warning as his own, sealing them away behind a soft peck.

Though his fingers ache to strip you bare, a kiss is truly all Toji tends to leave you with. He’s considerate towards you, aware of the fact that your lips are dressed up in the similar fashion you carried yourself for the night. He doesn’t dare to bite at your bottom lip, to slip his tongue along your own, he simply presses his kiss slowly onto you.

“See?” he grins as he pulls away, “Just a kiss. Told you I wanna keep you looking nice.”

“But I think I changed my mind,” you tease, pushing your eager lips back onto Toji’s gaping awe. The care you could almost thank him for flies right out of the window as your greedy tongue traces the caverns of his mouth.

You’re just so delicate, taking the time to study every inch of him before working a shy coil around his tongue. It’s nearly as if you’re treading a careful line too, holding back from what you know will pass.

But that won’t stop your hands from roaming along his chest, smoothing out the wrinkles from the silk black lapels of his suit jacket, tugging at his collar, all for your touch to find the comfort of cupping his rosy cheeks.

He takes heed with a smothered smirk, offering a lengthy response through unspoken language. But being the man he’s sworn to be tonight, Toji can’t let you show face with swollen lips, smeared lipstick, and wrinkles spouted all over your dress.

To depart from your adoration chips at Toji’s heart, but he does so with a parting gift. His teeth, pearled and strong, generously nip at your bottom lip as a courtesy to his exit. But he doesn’t draw too far, just enough for his shaky breaths to cloud your skin.

He tethers onto a smug smile to huff out his rhetorical thoughts, “What happened to being classy, Honey? Now your makeup’s gonna be messy ‘nd–”

“I don’t care about that. Any of it,” You lay out flatly, biting down on the present Toji plucked onto your bottom lip. “It’s nothing we can’t clean up in the bathroom, right?”

Toji kisses his teeth, using his grip to squeeze at your waist, “Nasty girl. As much as I'd that, and I really hate to ruin our moment, but I think we’re here so…here…”

Reaching beside you, Toji grabs the discarded pocket mirror and tube of lipstick for you. With what gap exists between you both, he presents the tools with a soft tilt of his palm.

“Go on, I’ll hold your mirror for you…for a price.”

“A price?” You press, lurching back from Toji’s hold. You accept the silver bullet from him, tugging off the cap before placing the red velvet tip to your pout.

“Mhm.” Toji blindly nods. He’s already absorbed into you, his hounding gaze following your careful hand once more.

“When you’re done, kiss me on the cheek. Just to…make sure it’s all dried, y’know?”

All you offer Toji is a sharp squint, “Is that right?”

“Yup, riiiight here,” Toji beckons, tipping his jaw towards you.

A sigh seeps through your lips, but you cave at Toji's request. Pressing your dressed lips along Toji’s cheek imprints the mark of deep crimson upon his fair skin.

“There, how’s that?”

Toji greedily turns the mirror on himself, his eyes gawking at the pretty signature you’ve given him.

“Perfect! Wooow, red looks good on us, Princess,” He chuckles to himself. Toji shuts the compact in his grip, leaving him to pin his sights on you.

“Well, ready to eat, breathe, and drink like elites?”

“Oh, Baby,” you playfully coo, your hand sitting along his thigh, “We already do.”

That’s all Toji needs to hear before he reaches for the door handle, pushing the heavy black car door open. The sidewalk’s concrete cracks beneath his feet as Toji stands from his seat, his hand reaching back for your own.

“Careful, careful, don’t step on the dress…” Toji chants as he guides you out of the backseat to stand beside him.

His concerns bring a giggle to ring from your lips as you thank him, softly squeezing at his linked grasp. Though, you find your attention set onto the building before you—standing at easily 30 floors high with what you made out to be an open rooftop on the top floor. Through a bushy squint, you noticed flickering lights dancing from the rooftop, pulling a sigh from your bundled chest.

“Yup, just like ‘em. Partying on the top floor like the gods they wanna be,” you mutter under your breath.

Stress wasn’t a good look on you and Toji needed a way of breaking that tension quickly.

Toji didn’t need another word, he knew he had to ease your worries fast. Lacing his arm around your hips, Toji adopts the role of an attendant, using slow steps to lead you inside the building. He steals a look at you, and he’s met with a clenched jaw and twisted lips.

“We’re gonna have fun tonight, ‘kay?” He assures, “Just go in—hey, wha-what do you eat at these things anyway?”

“Oh, a mix of everything. Native food like sushi, sashimi platters, and beef. Some foreign dishes like curry, or stew to call it something fancier, some other stuff. They serve oysters here sometimes—Oh, desserts derive from France, so things like that. But you can see some local items like parfaits, cakes, and red bean dishes too.”

Toji simply grins as you speak. He’s got you so invested in rattling out food, you didn’t even notice his intention of distracting you. Just his luck that it’s working. That list of potential menu items brought you both through the grand lobby of marble walls and columns, down the winding path of red carpet, and into the awaiting elevator leading upstairs

As the elevator doors shut, Toji pulls you into him once more, his fingers tapping at what curves lay within his grasp. He takes a moment to look around the small chamber with curious eyes—and down to your heavy stare cast upon him.

“Ugh, your lips are a little red, Toji. Want me to wipe—”

“Don’t bother,” he shrugs, “ Now you can’t go around calling me your “friend”. And I’ve got all the proof.”

Your brows weave a knot of confusion, “So you had all this planned out?”

“Pfft, ‘course not,” Toji swiftly shoots down, “Listen, don’t worry about any of that. You’re my lady, that’s it. And besides…I like being covered in your kisses. Is that so wrong?”

“I guess not—”

The soft ‘ding’ of the elevator doors rings through the speakers rip you and Toji out of your safe haven, and the growing sliver of light from the retracting doors seals your fate for the night.

Toji rushes to assume his role as your escort, taking your dainty hand into his calloused palm.

As you laggardly stroll out of the elevator, Toji leans towards your bejeweled ear with a whisper.

“I’ve got you, Princess. Keep a smile on your lips and no matter what…you’re here for a reason. Don’t let anyone take that from you.”

You keep your eyes pinned to the beckoning glass doors, but your focus doesn’t hinder how a smile crowds at your lips.

The marble flooring dons the honor of bearing the first step you take into the busy room. People, crowds of the recognized and deemed distinguished, scatter about the hall, cradling dainty glasses to their chest.

And one of these “recognized and deemed distinguished” has your name rolling off their tongue.

“Ah, isn’t it the lovely lady we’ve all been waiting for!” The voice calls out.

The curiosity prompts you and Toji into a standstill, his hand softly squeezing your own.

“Not even a minute inside and you’re already getting hit on. Tch, don’t forget about me, alright?” He smirks, passing a teasing wink onto you.

You roll your eyes, scoffing at Toji’s playful taunt. “Please, nothing but old men have their eye on me. But, that voice…it sounds so familiar. If I’m remembering properly, it belongs to…him.”

Your pairs of eyes fall short of the approaching figure, your nose wrinkling at the unfortunate realization.

He's a stout man, with tanned skin, black hair sprinkled with stands of salt and pepper, and his lecherous gaze hides behind the glare of wire-framed glasses. Few wrinkles dress his face, aside from the heavily contoured smile lines around his thin, pink lips.

He’s no taller than five-foot-seven, dressed in an all-white suit with a gold tie tucked behind suit lapels. He keeps a cane in hand, clutching at the polished brown stick modeling his laggard trail.

And when he flashes you a smile, there's a gold tooth that floods your mind with a single name.

That man is…Dr. Sai Yusuno.

“Who’s this old man?” Toji whispers into your ear.

“Dr. Sai Yusuno. He used to be on a board with my husband. But when he passed, this man has been nothing but persistent to court me. He asked me out a week after the funeral. Hah, guess someone couldn’t wait,” You hum while maintaining your smile as Dr. Yusuno urges closer.

Toji keeps his hold over you, drawing you into his side once the unwanted presence comes to stand before you both.

“Oh…Dr. Yusuno! How…nice to see you this evening!” Your pitched voice feigning innocence as you bow your head.

“Oh…I didn’t know you’d taken someone new,” Dr. Yusuno chides, sucking his teeth as he scans Toji from head to toe. “So…who is this man?”

“Oh..um…he’s my—”

“Toji Fushiguro,” Toji introduces, keeping his head held high. “She’s my lady. That’s all that needs to be said, if we’re being honest.”

“Hmm…,” Dr. Yusuno pauses for a moment, “Toji, you say? That name sounds similar. Are you from a cl—”

“Oh! Princess!,” Toji blurts out, “I think I see your names over there, let’s go get comfortable.”

“Oh, okay,” you nod, giving into Toji’s lead. “See you later, Doctor!”

Leaving Dr. Yusuno behind, Toji guides you to a chair at the end of the long dining table, allowing you to explore the rest of the banquet hall.

In your sights, you’ve found the bar standing in the corner, the staff working hard to feed thirsty patrons their desired dream for the night through shaken or stirred drinks.

Above hangs a grand crystal chandelier, the chiseled gems cutting the pure white night into a lively kaleidoscope of rainbows across the banquet floor.

Marveling the lavish space with wide eyes, you mumble to yourself. “It’s beautiful!”

Toji’s abrupt stop drags you out of thought, the sudden appearance of the dining table catching your eye. “Here you are, Princess,” he hums, pulling you from your thoughts. He works swiftly to tug out your seat from beneath the black tablecloth.

You find yourself reading a small tented card, the white paper wearing your name in gold characters.

“Thank you, my good sir,” your giggling flirt satisfying his ear as he pushes you in gently.

Toji falls to his knees beside you, bracing your thigh for support.

“How was that? Said hi and now it’s just some food. If you like something enough, I’ll cook it just for you,” he grins, the polished apples of his cheeks drawing his marked skin taut.

You trace the faded kiss on Toji’s cheek, inviting a doddering frown to your face. “Aww, I think the kisses are fading away.”

“That’s fine, Princess. But when we get home…I’ll be expecting ten times the amount you gave me.”

Before you can craft up some sly response to his innuendo, Toji rises back to his feet and over to the seat across from you, where his own name awaits his arrival.

“Aw man, I feel so fancy!” Toji chuckles as he slips into his seat.

“It’s kinda nice, right? And we came just in time, dinner’s coming out!” You note, pointing towards the budding sight of servers carrying plates into the dining room.

Like moths to a flame, all the socialites work to end their conversations as they drift into their assigned seats, making new discussions with those around them.

You’ve set your eye on the man before you, whose scarred grin captures your attention with ease.

“What’s that smile for?” your head slipping into a faint tilt.

“I know these types of events. Stuffy people, but the food’s great and there’s high-quality booze on rotation all night. Plus, I get to enjoy all this while courting the most wanted woman in the room,” Toji chuckles as he folds his arms over the table. “Aren’t I just the luckiest man in Tokyo right now?”

He’s an arm’s length away and that’s still not good enough.

While there’s a growing tension weighing on the minds of you both, nothing compares to the story written behind the doting stares you set onto each other. With your dilating eyes pinned on him, batting your blackened lashes ever so slowly with that small smirk creeping onto your features.

He’s no better, the poor man hiding his satyric ways behind the act of mindlessly tracing along the supple curves of his lips with his tongue.

All the chatter, all the screeching chairs, it all drowns out around you and Toji. Nothing dares to break into your world—except for the commencement of the dinner service.

“Pardon the intrusion.” The presence of a young man pulls you and Toji from each other, the pair of steady eyes watching him place a gold plate before you both.

“Tonight, we have for you both slices of seared beef, smoked salmon, dusted with truffle oil and masago. Please, do enjoy,” the server slowly announces for you and Toji.

“Wow…” the dull excitement speaks for Toji as he carefully observes the plate. “Where’s the rest of it?”

You slowly unravel the folded cloth napkin, hiding a laugh behind your focus. “These things are multi-courses. We’ve got like…10…15 small dishes like this to go. But we can go get something to eat after this too, I’m usually hungry after these things.”

Toji simply nods as he turns to face his plate once more. He stares hard at the delicate trims of meat before him, reaching for his hidden fork within the napkin. ‘At least it’s the high-quality cuts,’ he wonders to himself, bringing the gossamer trim of meat to his mouth.

As the gentle chew rings in his ear, Toji takes a moment to observe the room’s sudden shift.

Chatter breaks around the dinner session talks of business and affairs break from each end of the table. Not a single word matters nor interests Toji, not when he’s seeking out your due attention once more.

His sapphirine tincts wash over you, and instead of being greeted by your allure, he’s somehow satisfied with watching your newfound interest in the paper-thin strip of beef sitting on your plate.

Though he’s taken to you as his newest attraction, his ears are keen. Ears like this are carefully trained to hear even a pen drop in a room like this, and even with such skill, immunity from the talks of the elite isn’t granted unto Toji.

“…Oh! Have you heard who’s taken up the role there now? I heard he’s nothing more than a moron trying to fit in amongst the best.”

“Such a poor man. He’ll try so hard to win over the shareholders, but he’s just so useless.”

“Useless? An animal would have better luck than him!”

“No, but have you heard of the newly elected president of XXXX?”

“Ha! I did…he’s no better than a dog. So worthless, how dare he accept the position? Does he think he’s worthy? He must be thinking he can sit in some company and just gain status like us! Disgusting!”

All this talk surrounds Toji, filling his ears and penetrating his firm psyche with such cruel ideals. To critique a man is one thing, but to ridicule his name without any consideration for his character, his actions, his morals—why, that simmers on Toji’s tongue like poison.

He’s gripping his fork tightly, his knuckles dusting a ghostly white. He can’t explain what’s brought about his sudden shift in manners, but it’s unnatural for the man he’s become.

His eyes flicker to you for guidance, but you’ve taken to some light conversation with the woman beside you, whose questions seem true and modest.

Toji’s left to rely on himself, his spiraling mind coaxing him to bite down on his lip—he wants your aid but he deems his fragile thread of composure is nothing worth interrupting you over.

Yet, these words still sit uncomfortably familiar in Toji’s ears. Not a single word aimed at him, but the message behind them pulls at memories he’d buried years ago. But all it takes for his mind to crumble is the utterance of mere affirmations…

“He’s worthless!”

“He’s not worthy of what we offer.”

“He’s better off dead…”

“He’ll never be accepted here!”

“Born a failure…and always will be a failure.”

His heart races in his ears, channeling a cold sweat to sweep across his body. He can’t even focus on you anymore, not with his eyes senselessly blinking away the threatening patches of stars.

Slipping a finger between the apple of his throat and the pesky collar button of his dress shirt, Toji yanks the tied cloth from the back of his neck in hopes of fresh air flooding his hitching lungs. He tries to cast his gaze elsewhere, though, in a room so vast, how could the walls suddenly close him in, trapping him in his plagued mind with spinning thoughts?

Memories replay in his head with the very words in the air as a soundtrack. He can’t figure out why these exact words would come to haunt him years later?

Dead? Was he really better off dead? He hasn’t heard such heartless words since his younger days, why—how could strangers know about his anguish? Why would strangers speak to him like this, judge him before his character can attest for him? Why…why…

Why would a family speak to their own like this?

There’s only one thing on Toji’s mind, and it’s the one thing he knows all too well: escape. He has to put some space between him and the dinner, and he’s already plotting his next move.

Toji’s weary body shudders as he stands from his seat, his mind stumbling over his ingrained words of manner.

“Um…I-I…Excuse me.”

His words fall short on the ears of others, but the loud shriek of his chair scraping along the black tile commands the attention of all in the room.

“Toji?” You mouth out his name, but his eyes hang low—low and blurred by his nerves.

His exit fades out as the idle dinner chatter picks up once more. His brisk steps toward the patio are drowned out by taxes, how well the beef has been marinated, and worse of all—the ridicule of Toji’s “childish” need for attention.

The look on Toji’s face was like nothing you’d seen from him before. He was pale as if a ghost had just tapped his shoulder. And the very confidence you found yourself fond of was replaced by a quaking fear, one so heavy he couldn’t even keep his head held high.

Guilt shrouds your mind, and it’s a heavy cloud that threatens all the confidence he��s worked to instill in you. That very guilt–the need to balance your mind with comfort…his specific comfort. Without a moment’s delay, you rise from your seat, the similar screech of your seat ringing through the hall.

“Excuse me.” Your announcement halts all chatter, all gossip, and all means of communication falling short of your cold tone.

The clicks of your heels dart across the glossy floor as you tread toward the balcony.

You find him leaning along the stone-carved railing, gazing out at the city’s skyline. To ease the mood, you mark your next steps carefully, creeping behind him with light steps.

But Toji doesn’t even have to turn his head to know you’re there.

“Don’t go hiding from me, you know I’ll find you, Princess.”

Dropping the charade, you join Toji’s side, leaning into him with a hand bracing the tensed sleeves of his suit.

“Then I’ll never be lost with you. But…”

Your touch laces onto the frazzled hairs covering Toji’s eyes, lazily raking through his onyx locks.

“That means you can’t go hiding from me either…what happened, Toji?”

Toji’s attention from the overview doesn’t seek a replacement, his eyes dead set on the passing nightlight below. “If I tell you, it’s not like it’s gonna change how I feel. And it’s silly anyways, nothing you need to stress yourself over.”

“Toji,” you coo “If your feelings don’t change, that’s okay. And if you think it’s silly, that’s fine too. But…I can’t help but stress with you. So don’t tell me, I won’t force you. We don’t even have to talk, we can stay out here all night, looking out over the city.”

Toji sighs as his head drops, “You care too much for me, y’know that? Most people would’ve let me be. But here you are, on such an important night…babysitting me. I think we’re making each other soft, yeah?”

“That’s fine with me, as long as I’m with you, right?”

Those words had no business slipping from your lips, but they did. By uttering something so dangerous to Toji—your sentiments of care to him—all he can do is gawk at you.

His jaw’s sunk slack and the words he wants to say fall short on his tacked tongue. He wants to ask you why give him a second of your time. His outburst might have cost you your reputation and relationships. And you could be inside, tending and cleaning up whatever tension that might have been sparked—but you’re outside with him as your only muse.

That’s what he aims to say, but his heart has him rattling off something he can’t—rather, something he won’t try to bite back any longer.

“All this…fancy dining, sitting and talking like this…it reminds me of a life I barely got away from. I hated it—those people treated me like their mortal enemy. All my life until I was old enough to leave, living in hell became my home..”

You lean into Toji, resting your chin on his shoulder. With a weighted gaze, you peer up to Toji through your lashes, and the very words that roll off your cherried tongue break down any wall he had left standing tall towards you.

“Tell me about these people you hate so much.”

Toji finds the energy to scoff, the choked chuckle cracking through the crisp air. “Horrible. Because I didn’t meet some standard they made up in their heads, I was a castaway in my own family.

Having to work myself to the bone, proving myself to people who didn’t care if I dropped dead right at their feet. And having done all that work, just for it to be thrown back in my face when it came time for dinner. That cycle…no one should have to go through that.”

“Some days, death seemed like the best option. Better than putting on a brave face that mattered to absolutely no one.”

“What kept you from ending it all then?”

“Hope. It’s a stupid thing. But the hope of knowing it all might get better saved me. If I had given in to all that hatred and become what was expected out of me, giving up would’ve been worse than dying. But all the scars you love to touch, that’s both from the hell and freedom I’ve lived through. The scars of freedom, however…they never once hurt me.”

“So then,” you begin, carefully gathering your words, “Was it all worth it?”

That’s when Toji committed himself to you, his body shifting to face you. He’s got his eyes pinned on you and you alone, his ears tuned to your gentle coo, and his heart open to sing its long-awaited melody.

“...Yeah. It all…it all brought me to places I couldn’t begin to imagine, to meet people in my wildest dreams. It’s been a crazy one, but I wouldn’t regret a single moment. But, I have to say this one thing, or else I’m gonna lose it…”

Toji stares at you for a moment in silence. His eyes scan every curve of your face for what he wants to discover as a hoax, but all he’s met with is the kindness of sincerity. Sincerity dots your eyes, in that soft smile you hold, and touches every strand of hair your digits comb through.

Sincerity is a rare trait for a man like him to encounter and when he does…it becomes something he has to question.

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

Reverting back to his old self, Toji stands tall with his hands briskly searching for your waist as his keepsake. He’s back to grinning, drinking in that sudden gasp you give when he encompasses your body flush to his own.

“You just…sat there and let me talk your ear off. None of it affects you, yet you seem like you actually care. So…why?”

“Why do I care?” You rehash, fixing your arms to link along the broad of Toji’s shoulders.

“I care because that’s what I’ve come to do with you. You care for me and I care for you. And I’ll be honest, it’s scary…caring for you like this is going to give way into something I can’t afford just yet—but I won’t stop it. So yes, talk my ear off. But I want to listen, I want to know whatever you’re willing to let me know about you because…that’s how much I care for you, Toji.”

Toji ghosts a peck against your lips, breaking his sentiments with a speech. “Well, aren’t you the poet? Thank you, really. You’re learning just how to calm me down and I like it.”

“Don’t thank me, I just want you to be okay. So we don’t have to—oh Toji?!” You yelp as he begins to lead you back inside. His hand slips into yours, tracing your gentle palm with his grazing thumb.

All Toji gives you is his back, hiding the flourishing spout of blush curling at the tips of his ears and the highs of his cheeks. He’s almost forgotten: he’s the luckiest man in Tokyo to have you. And with such a title means he has one single job: to keep a smile on your face at all times.

“Don’t go and worry your pretty little head off. Let’s get back in there and enjoy ourselves!”

✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ ✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ ✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ ✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀

“Mhmm…Toji?” you huff, tightening your slinking arms along his shoulders.

“Y…Yeah, Baby? Whatcha’ wanna tell me?”

“Are we home yet? I wanna go to sleep with you.”

Toji chuckles as he peers down at you, his pretty lady cradled resting like a princess in his arms.

Replaying the night in his head, he’d call every minute of it a success. After the heart-to-heart out on the balcony, you and Toji went back into the party as if only you two were there.

From sharing sips of the finest aged wine and brandy, finishing out the dinner service, and sharing a dance that ended with you and Toji swirling about for an hour pressed to each other, all the makings of a night to remember.

But with every night out, the fateful comedown is never too far behind.

When the adrenaline wears off, tummies are full of food, and the liquor’s finalizing its course through bodies, the whimsy of the night comes to a curtain-falling close.

As for this timely scene, Toji’s taken on the role of caretaker. And as a caretaker, that means ignoring his hazy brain and tired muscles to carry you out the car and inside your apartment.

Beneath the dull glow of the street lights, Toji steals a glimpse at you, gawking at how a sense of ease dresses your visage.

Beautiful, that’s the only word in his mind as he admires you. Your eyes gently shut, your timid lips faded from their red hues, your puffy cheeks soft and begging for a kiss.

In his eyes, you look perfect in his arms, resting in his care without a care. That’s his lady—a woman he’s finding himself endowed to with each passing day.

Living carefree, as Toji’s learned, is a right that belongs to everyone. To wake up, do whatever you please, and do it all again the next day. And while living carefree is deserved, it’s a word that carries various definitions.

In his definition of carefree towards you, Toji would work to strip your mind of all the grief, stress, and responsibilities that come with your world.

But when the morning comes, you’ll be back to worrying, making phone calls that hold materialistic value, and working to the bone–while Toji continues living carefree on your dime.

What a life.

Toji aimlessly presses a kiss to your forehead, charming himself back to the present where your question awaited an answer.

“We’re right outside the door, silly. Then we gotta take the elevator up, take off this pretty dress, wash your face, then you can go to sleep, ‘kay?”

“But…I wanna sleep with youuu,” you draw out, your eyes widening at Toji’s lack of involvement amidst his own plans.

“Alright, alright,” Toji sighs as he taps his hip against the lobby’s door sensor. “Stay up and wait for me. I gotta help you, then I gotta help myself. So after all that’s done, then we can sleep. Sounds like a deal?”

Pushing yourself deeper into Toji’s hold, you nuzzle your cheek against his burly chest.

“Deal.”

Entering the quiet lobby, Toji rocks you in his arms as he treks to the elevators. A night full of dancing, drinks, and questionably small plates leaves him with a dumb smile plastered to his lips.

And to end it all right, he’d finally be able to sedate all his concerns for you within a matter of minutes.

Though, the call of his name impedes his plans.

“Oh, hey Toji!” the night doorman calls out with a wave.

Sho Hisagari, the nighttime doorman. Standing at six feet even, he’s a gentle giant with a strong build that hides behind a black uniform jacket. He’s got sharp brown eyes, dyed blond hair that sits just short of his ears, and a soft, crooked smile that’s kind to the eyes of all.

During the day, he’s a college student entering his final days of graduate school, and at night, the twenty-five-year-old collects a check watching the night of Tokyo pass by.

Toji’s quick to recognize him, considering that he’d been the mediator to bring Toji up to your doorstep a month prior.

He looks over to greet Sho with a lax smile, “Hey kid, how’s the night going?”

“I should ask you guys,” Sho chuckles as he leans over the desk. “I’ve never seen her drunk.”

“Oh, this pretty lady?” Toji hums as he glances down at your serene face.

“She wanted to drink some wine, then some martinis, a few cocktails, and I got to thinkin’ ‘ Who am I to keep a grown woman sober?’ So I made sure she didn’t overdo it and ended up getting some sake and a few cups of wine in my system too. But, someone had to be the responsible one. She’s always the strong one, so why not let her enjoy this?”

“She is strong, isn’t she?” The doorman breaks, Sho steadily focusing his sights on you.

The sudden interest in you has Toji intrigued. He carefully studied Sho, how his brown eyes hang over your dozing face. It’s a familiar gaze—a look that brings even the strongest, unmovable, and rigid of men to dote on their muse. A look that softens the eyes into a trained whimsical glint, leaves the lips and jaw lax for the gasps or gape to roll out.

A mien that seems so familiar to Toji because he dons those exact traits whenever he too is entranced by you.

And while Toji had no reason to feel that lump in his throat swell, his harsh swallow barely chips at the growing resentment.

It’s such a pure look in his eyes, but why does it look so…so…natural on Sho?

As if he’s trained his eyes to look at you like this?

“Well, I’m gonna go and get her in bed. Have a good night, kid,” Toji mumbles before entering the elevator, leaving Sho with a solemn nod.

“Night, Toji! Tell the miss’ I wish her a good night too!”

Toji could only count the seconds before the doors shut, leaving him alone with his sleeping beauty wrapped up in his beastly arms.

His cobalt hues flicker down to your timid visage, and all the anger that threatened his eventful night was wiped clean the moment you began to stir about in his hold.

“Toji?” your weakly rasp, your pinched eyes squinting at your suitor.

“Hey, Baby. Thought you went to sleep without me for a sec,” he teases behind a growing grin.

You simply shake your head, hands coming to rub your strained eyes beneath the piercing white lights, “I thought I heard Sho’s voice. Wanted to say hi.”

“Huh…” Toji trails off. “You like Sho?”

“Mhm,” you nod, He’s nice. He gives me flowers, takes me out to lunch, and sometimes when I can’t sleep. I’ll go downstairs and talk with him for a while.”

That taints Toji’s mind like ink bleeding through a scroll. He’s overrun by hypotheticals and probabilities, trying to make sense of what your sentiments towards the young man might be.

He didn’t expect to uncover such a rich history between you and the doorman, yet he has no choice but to absorb it all for what you’ve shared.

Toji has half a mind to seek reassurance, his mind already sorting out the indirect questions to pry at your own sentiments towards him.

But…he stops.

All thought, all the plotting, it comes to a screeching halt when your words at the balcony replay in his mind. Those sincere words that sat on his ears like the sweetest hymn from a siren.

Upon reciting your soliloquy in his head, Toji peers down at your softened features with the very look he envies Sho for wearing.

He can’t blame the guy, he was falling for you all the same—all because you care. You take the time to show your adoration for others, the words only act as a seal to what’s already known.

Maybe, just in some random universe that happened to be his own, maybe it was lov—

“...Are we home yet?” you groan, pulling Toji from his thoughts.

The chime of the splitting elevator doors welcomes you and Toji back into the humble abode, the familiar dark scene of the living room draws Toji inside.

“Look, we’re in the living room. Now, let’s get you in your room and in bed” Toji hints as he begins his winded strides down the dark hallway.

He softly nudges the door open with his hip, revealing the night-clad oasis to his eye. The faint twinkling rays of moonlight cast upon the red duvet of your bed, drawing Toji to put you to rest.

“Okay just lay there for a—”

“Toji.” you call out calmly, your blurred gaze setting on him.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

Folding your hands along your tummy, you rally the energy to turn towards him, a weak smile curling onto your lips. “I’m feeling better, trust me. The room’s stopped spinning now, just a little tired, but I’ve got some energy.”

“Okay, good!” Toji beams with a bright grin, “If you can sit up, I can bring...”

Toji’s offer falls deaf on your ears as you sit up slowly, shifting hands sinking into the soft red duvet beneath your body. Tilting your head back, you stare aimlessly at the ceiling, the miniature glass chandelier returning your starry gaze.

In theory, Toji's done a great job; he kept you company, made sure you arrived home without a hair out of place, and he's even going the extra mile to put you sleep too. you've arrived back home in one piece

However...something's missing from the night, from his usual antics. He's too princely, acting so pure when he's the farthest thing from. He was insistent on being classy for the night, but did he really means the whole night?

Even after he kept pressing kisses to your lips and cheeks alike, pinning his hand to your side, and even whispering about how he'd love to take you down out of some cups of wine.

And he has yet to act on any of the hints he planted. Now, here you are, just on the verge of greeting the setting night and he was still too kind with you.

There simply has to be some word, some action, just something you could call upon to rouse all the desires he's pushed aside for the night...right?

“Princess?” Toji croaks as he stands before you. He takes a tender hold of your jaw, the pad of his thumb grazing along the softened contours. “Talk to me, what’s got you so down?”

“I’m okay, really. Just…a little disappointed is all.”

“You? Disappointed?? No no no, how can I fix it?” Toji hums as he drops to his knees. He tends to remove your heels, tugging the tiny clasp free from your ankle.

“Okay okay, ‘disappointed’ is a little bit of an exaggeration. Tonight was fun…but…”

“But?” Toji repeats, his hand coasting along the peeking curves of your thigh.

“I won’t lie, I was expecting for us to sneak off for a quickie or something.”

“Yeah?” Toji breathlessly chuckles out. “You were really waiting for that?”

“Mmhm,” you nod, tugging your bottom lip between a smothered grin, “That’s why ‘m not wearing any panties.”

The sweet smile Toji taped to his lips withers away beneath a slack jaw and widening eyes. First he’s pale, the draining palettes of shock claiming his lush skin. You’ve grown bold, something he’s taken note of, but he wasn’t prepared to handle this.

Somewhere in his stunned sights, he falls on the cut in your dress, the slit freely bunched up to your hip. He swallows hard, blinking at the realization: you’re sitting all too pretty with your cunt waiting for him.

That’s when the prickling sear of heat licks at his cheeks, a cloud of pink spreading across his gawking face.

“Like…uh...allll…night?”

“Don’t believe me?” You giggle as you slowly drape your leg along Toji’s shoulder. You bear witness to his final threads of sanity snapping as your dress drips off your skin, revealing the results of a one-sided gamble.

“Check for yourself.”

What visibly seals Toji’s fate as he hunts for a shed of fabric is the languid spread of your legs…just enough for him to see the delicate webs of slick sewn to your folds.

“See what you do to me, Toji? All that teasing in the car, touching me all over the dance floor, it’s all for you. And you let your so-called ‘lady’ walk around dripping and this is all you can say?”

“Oh fuck…” he’s shuddering, swallowing down the hindering lump in his throat. “Princess, i-if you wanted me to—”

“Don’t apologize. And I know you wanna fix things too, but I think, for tonight at least, I’ve got things under control.”

“No, let me make it up to you, “ Toji pleads, “W-What…do you want me to do?”

“Watch me.”

“Watch you?” he presses with a quirked brow, “Watch you do—”

You cut Toji’s question short carelessly, “Mm, Toji, help me out. Can’t keep my legs at the same time.”

Toji’s stare is heinous as dark clouds threatens his sights. You’ve got the nerve to sit there and wait for him as if he’s holding you back. He has the words boiling at the tip of his tongue, ready to fire off his rebuttal.

He picks the latter, Toji locking his firm grip around your thighs. The hold he has over you is unyielding, not granting an inch of room for any second thoughts.

He’s even spiteful enough to drag you right to the edge of the bed, forcing your hips to tilt toward his awaiting mouth.

“How’s this?”

“Just like that. Now keep your head riiiight here.”

Your lithe fingers sit atop the charcoal coronet of Toji's head, veering him to rest his cheek along your inner thigh. He doesn’t fall to hesitation either, merely falling to your whims with the same daunting stare.

You’re hurting his pride, turning the man into nothing more than your pet. To sit there and take orders, listen to your every fancy, and be expected to act on them without fail. You almost feel bad for him in a way too, considering how you can watch his patience grow thin with how he clenches his jaw.

But then again…it’s precisely what he signed up for.

“You’re such a good boy, Toji. You know exactly what I want without me saying it. Starting to understand me more…”

Again, you descend on a journey, tracing the curves of Toji’s flustered features until you find a ledge worthy of your touch—that cute quivering pout he wears proudly.

His lips feel plump against the pads of your digits, such supple skin brimmed with a soothing heat. Toji’s still sitting beneath awe’s influence, flustered and shy.

You take to the idea brewing in your brain, especially when there’s something so delightful laying behind his lips. Your ghostly touch sedates the brimming heat of his pout, that mere swipe a lulling famed whimper from his mouth.

“C’mon, baby…don’t keep me waiting…you always know exactly what I want.”

“Do I?” He sarcastically scoffs, but his remarks don’t go unnoticed.

“Yeah, you do. I don’t have to say a word, I know you’ll give me what I want.”

Just like that, Toji’s lips part to welcome you into the caverns of his mouth. His tongue’s swift to coil around your digits, basting your skin in his spit to his heart's content. He’s given himself to lust, sloppily working his lips until soapy bubbles seep out of the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, you’re such a good boy!” You purr as you reel away from Toji’s swollen lips. All that connects you both is a wispy thread of glass, serving as evidence of your time together.

Your dripping digits sit right between your legs to paint your cunt in his shade, fingertips dragging glossy webs along the pink pearl.

Your hand falls into a tantalizing sway, drawing messy circles about your clit. It's a slow start but you’re quick to respond to your own touch, rousing the dormant nerves with haste.

It’s the heft of arousal that suddenly douses your bud in a searing heat that drives you over the edge, your hand adopting a frantic pace.

“D-Do you see what you do to me, Toji?

There’s a reveling heat blooming amongst your core. It’s all-consuming, so overwhelming that every bit of your strength surrenders to you. Sinking back down onto the bed, Your enticed spine spikes into an arch, forcing your hips to bear the heft of paradise alone.

But Toji’s right there to help you; wedging your thigh atop his shoulder, hands clipped to your rocking hips.

He’s sitting there with a pout on his face, the flat of his tongue sketching over his lips. Each time you swipe over your clit, Toji’s thinking about what he’d do instead. He’s the one who knows your body like his own, so watching you work so hard splinters his pride by the seconds. He can’t take it, watching his poor baby enjoy such shoddy workmanship.

“Just like that, Princess, you got it.” All he can do is support you through words, his touch, and the kisses he’s peppering along your inner thigh.

He can’t surrender his gaze to anywhere else. He can’t complain, can’t intervene, so he simply takes it. He takes it while sitting enviously on his knees, gawking at the sight of you bathing in that sweet ambrosia. He wants nothing more than to touch you—so badly that it hurts him in mind, body, and spirit.

You know how bad he wants to touch you too and just how much restraint it’s taking him to play the innocent act. And all that knowledge is the very thing that pulls a spiraling heat to flood your tummy.

You want a reaction from him, to hear him ridicule your poor technique. Excitement captures your entire body as you begin to draw out Toji’s true colors with a wandering touch. You slide a single finger between your folds down to your quivering hole.

The manner you take to tease your rousing core is gentle, paddling your sweet spot beneath tender strides. Just off that calm touch, you’re melting into your touch. With Toji being the one handling your needs as of late, you’ve almost forgotten the thrill of chasing your own high.

But that sense of bliss quickly turns to thirst, a ravenous urge to feed that heavy pit in your tummy. You swiftly invoke a jagged cadence, drumming at your spot feverishly. You’re working so hard that the stack of bangles on your wrist erupts into a cheery jingle, voicing the hymns of your pursuing finger.

“Mmm…f-fuck,” you whine, drawing the glossed finger from your cunt.

Toji’s eyes staple to you, a burning gaze that overlooks your polished digit tapping along his bottom lip. He isn’t waiting to hear permission, he simply can’t bring himself to wait a moment longer.

He envelops your fingers between his lips, the flat of his tongue cupping along the digit. Toji’s swift to clean up your mess, the slicked muscle twirling at every inch of your skin dressed in your essence.

“So needy…C’mon, spit on it.”

Toji’s eyes widen at your request, his shot pupils darting to meet your gaze. He’s mulling over your question, using every ounce of his strength to think clearly. Did you really just ask him to spit on your—

“Aww, what’s that look for, Baby? Didn’t hear me?” you taunt, ripping your digit from his mouth.

“N-no, no…I-I heard you. I-I just...uh—“

“Shhhh," you whisper, placing a slicked finger against his rambling lips, “I’m waiting…”

A muffled moan snags itself within Toji’s throat as he slowly leans in. His quivering frown just grazes past you, closing the distance for the tears of spit he’s dying to glaze over your sporuted mound.

You’ve gotten so wet, dripping from the sad display he’s born witness to. He doesn’t want to spit on your clit, he’s dying to taste you, to create an abstract mess out of the swollen bud.

But he does as he’s told without fail, his puckered lips pushing out sticky rivets of spit. His stares stays pinned to you as he observes the messy trail whisking down your folds.

“Fuck… pussy’s so pretty like this,” Toji mutters to himself as he pulls away to admire his finishing touch.

He’s right, your cunt does look so pretty being pushed to the edge—the glistening pearl of your clit consumed by a waltz of shivers, your puffy folds dewed by your essence and his spit, and your cute little slit flittering for attention.

Somewhere in his murky mind, he’s thinking about it: how you’ve finally elicited his help without having to lay a finger on you.

And to think it’d be so lewd, so messy—and just perfect for a man like him. The thought doesn’t just stop with the mind, it’s feeding his cock with all sorts of ideas too, condemning his bulge to strain against his pants.

You slip your hand between the sloppy mess of Toji’s lips and your cunt, rubbing the soapy bubbles of spit to meld with your slick.

“Just like that…n-now, don’t stop o-okay?” you moan, driving yet another finger to fill your walls. Lazy pulses rip against your piqued nerves, engulfing your pussy in a ravenous flame. Your thighs suffer beneath the force of your inevitable undoing, immersing your suspended legs into a world of tremors.

“ ‘m gonna cum! gonna–I’m c-cum—"

A flash of white breaks over your eyes, stars dotting your sights. Curses spew from your lips as that knot in your tummy finally snaps. It’s all too much, your saturated body succumbing to the consequence of reaching nirvana. All you can do is toss your head back and grit your teeth, your hands racing to fist at the plushy blanket beneath you.

In the peak of your heat, Toji settles a peck between your folds, a poor excuse to satisfy his need to taste you.

A sly smirk creeps onto your lips as you come down, fixing your misty eyes to study the shameless kisses he’s pinning to your swollen pussy.

Your hands slip into the ruly forest of Toji’s hair, combing away the frazzled locks from his face.

“Look at you, couldn’t even wait.”

The route Toji endures to have his tongue bathe in your essence is dangerous. He’s so reckless, disregarding your sensitivity just to sedate his gluttonous desires. He’s savoring the fruits of your high, the mere taste blurring his unmoving judgment. You’re just so sweet, so sticky and so addictive like honey but venomous once you seep upon Toji's palate.

But he’s using every drop of that venom to soothe his soul, regardless if you can supply him or not.

“W-Wait! Toji…s-slow down! I jus’ —fuck!—came!”

Toji breaks himself from you, painting your flushed cunt in his hot, patterned breaths. He doesn’t meet your stare, his eyes trapped to the corked swell of your clit. “Sorry, baby. I’ll be gentle…and so fucking gentle, I swear."

Whether he meant it for your ears or not, Toji couldn’t tell you. But that won’t change his resolve. The resolve that bleeds through the dripping tongue he swathes against your folds. He’s working his jaw to bear those long, pampering strokes of his.

Those long, pampering strokes that trail up from your gummy hole.

The lazy, careful drags that skims against the pulsing channel of your folds.

His gentle laps that cling to your spry knob just because it feels so damn good to soak up the beating heat that leaves your clit so puffy and cute.

“Oooh—shi– Just…hah…just like that, Toji!”

He has your body running hot, your stirred nerves sparking underneath your skin. He’s simply dragging his tongue against you, so how can something so simple risk pulling another orgasm from your core?

He’s honoring his words too, using soft laps to soothe your poor bulb. But that doesn’t stop the twitches that litter your weak legs, that arch driving your chest into the air, and the mindless drivel spilling from your gaping lips.

“Mmmm,” Toji whimpers as a ‘pop’ ricochets from his mouth, “I wanna suck it, Mama. Please? I’ll be soft too! Just let me suck it, ‘kay?”

“Th-then go ahead! I’m not gonna—oh fuh—Toji!”

“Mhmm,” Toji hums as the whites of his eyes flicker behind his squint. If there’s one thing he’s grown to attach to, he’s grown too fond of sucking on that clit of yours.

Something about having the cute pearl swell up between his lips that plays on his senses a little too heavily. Just the thought alone has his mind wiped clean of anything that wasn’t your moans, your writhing body, or the looming orgasm he has to bring over you.

It’s sheer vigor that graces him to lure your clit between his quivering lips. He has to coax you, earn your trust before delivering ruin right to your feet. That’s why he’s ever so kindly pedaling the tip of his tongue against you, lazily winding a mindless path around the bundle of nerves.

Every languorous lash of his slicked muscle weakens your resolve—a fact he can see with the naked eye. Your hips tell him all he needs to know, rolling along with his rhythm.

The power of the unspoken is a great one, and because of its strength, Toji is able to move on with his plan. One that allows him to gradually reel back that curling tongue of his, letting his lips plant fluttering kisses as an apology for stealing back what’s rightfully yours.

A whimper tells him you miss it, but the pecks he’s baking at your core aren’t for naught. Not when he’s easing you in, blanketing his lips over your clit until all he can do is cling to the silky button.

So fragile, it’s the opposite of his entire persona, demeanor, and even his way of life. The polar opposite of him, but Toji wears delicacy like a glove when drawing your clit into a churning toil. He’s nursing you with the kindest of care, suckling the spry nerves into a pudgy bloat.

“F-ff-fuck! I‘m gonna cum again!” you squeal, your thighs knocking against Toji’s head.

He doesn’t curse. He doesn’t chatise you. Toji merely slips his hand from your waist in exchange of bracing the silky plush you’ve crowned upon him.

He could stop, Toji knows that much. But hearing your cry out like that—you’ve abruptly fueled some hidden agenda of his to push you over the limit. Just how loud can you scream his name? How many times can you cum before you’re a fucked out mess? All these questions contaminate Toji’s fleeting mind, and he’s dying to answer each and every one tonight.

“Go ‘head, I can take it, Baby.”

He means every word. He’ll handle everything to come with you; the good and the bad, all the pain and the pleasures, he’ll take it all with a smile.

Your orgasm is a heavy burden to carry, costing you every ounce of strength in your reserves. The familiar flash of white crosses your eyes, dashing in front of your sights for a single moment. Like the thrill of lighting cracking through the sky, your body holding strong before the crumbling curse washes over you.

The looming heat at your core surges across your body, from the balls of your curled feet to the fading reality in your head. Your jaw drops slack by a muted cry, and all you can do is give into your body’s coiling instinct without delay.

Toji’s hands are foreign to you, but it’s the only source that brings you down as he softly taps a wayward tempo along your flushed skin.

“Oh, that was beautiful, Princess. But, I hope you can keep up that little act…we’re not done here.”

As you pull the words from your broken thoughts, Toji’s swift to reach over you, his hunkering body casting a shadow upon you.

“Toji?” you mumble out, squinting at his face with blurry eyes.

“You started this. You gotta finish it—and if you don’t…well, you might regret it.” His warning comes with a hint, one that lacks the grace of subtly. Because in Toji’s mind, the hint he has for you sits right against your inner thigh, his thick cock hidden behind a shameful bulge.

Perching upon your elbows, you close the distance between you and Toji, leaving just a sliver of the room’s heat to separate you both.

“I’m going to regret it? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to scare me, Toji. I told you already, try all you want…you can’t break me. Besides, if I choose to let you go to bed like this, who’s truly gonna regret it?”

“Only one way to find out…” the final words marking the room’s sultry atmosphere as Toji captures your lips with a kiss.

He keeps his rhythm purely surface—soft, gentle, gliding his kiss against you like the finest silk. He doesn’t dare to, not when he’s already dizzy off those small whimpers you let sink into his mouth.

It’s so gentle that it’s almost hypnotic, the soft curl of Toji’s lips passing over your own. He’s leaving you wanting more, the impulse to trace his skin burning at your fingertips. However, the obstacle of clothing hinders you—but your hands move quicker than you can think.

Nothing could truly explain the way you labor across Toji’s towering body; tugging off his suit jacket, unbuttoning his dress shirt, yanking at his black slacks until he was free of all clothing, and the loud clunk of his belt and shoes joining the floor.

But you do it all while the fervour of his gentle kiss stews at the forefront of your mind.

He could say the same, unsure of what skills allowed him to strip you of that dress, tugging off your shoulders, down your legs, and off onto the floor with such ease—but he did so anyway.

He did it all while relishing the heat of your lips on his.

And maybe a kiss does hold such mind-numbing powers, to subdue lovers to its binding will. As much as you rather push off such a ridiculous thought, the evidence lies with you and Toji alike.

Why, it must have some influence over those who dabble within its magic because the next time you blink, you find yourself laid on your side with Toji’s bare chest tucked along your spine and his bicep as your pillow. His hooked arm outlines your chest, pitting him to knead the silky fat of your tits.

He’s peeling away from the sin of your kiss down to your exposed neck, peppering pecks along the velvety tract of your throat. Just because he’s broken from your lips doesn’t mean he’s stopped sipping from lust’s cup. His hands, wide, firm, and blessed with fingers so thick, take on the honor of roaming your body.

Those husky hands that cup your tits, kneading at the pillowy flesh until your pebbling nipples slip between his windowed grasp.

Those stout fingers that lazily caress your curves, the pad of his thumb feathering along your skin.

There are so many whimpers that don’t mean to pour from your lips—but they do, shamelessly and unfiltered. He carries the art of delicacy, Toji’s treating you under the fear of breaking you. But his efforts only spur you on, guiding you down the path that he leads.

Those stout fingers that lazily caress your curves, the pad of his thumb feathering along your skin. A hot, rousing channel that erupts beneath Toji’s languid tour of your body. His touch smolders over your skin, coaxing every nerve to greet him without fail.

His path ends just short of your thigh, his reach slipping to coddle the supple underside.

“Hold your leg back,” Toji instructs, dragging his hand to cup the back of your knees. Carefully, he replaces his brash grip with your kind, tender hands, pinning your folded leg just short of your chest.

“What are you doing?” you pry, skewing your head along Toji’s chest.

His hand slowly glides along the front of your body, squeezing at whatever fills his rough hands. His trail lands him right before your sopping cunt, his shaky hand dusting past your puffy lips.

“...Tch, n-nothing. J-just wan..n-na touch you, that’s it,” his trembling breath mutters along the thumping pulse of your neck.

The moment Toji’s confidence allows him to dip into the viscous mess of your pussy, a hiss cuts between his lips. You’re dripping, your slick dressing his touch before he’s even landed a tap on your puffy pink pearl. Suddenly, there’s a stress on Toji’s mind that warns him of the impending doom set to befall him.

The doom of him cumming too quickly.

It’s an issue he’s never had until meeting you. He still remembers the mess your sputtering pussy drowned him in back in that dressing room. But this doesn’t even compare to that first time.

He could only imagine how you’ll suck him up this time, how sloppy you’ll be after a few rolls of his hips, how he very much could end up creaming your walls white—

“Oh fuck…” he groans at the thought, his hips bucking along the small of your back.

Precious anticipation that has Toji taking his sweet time to trace through your folds, up towards your clit, and down to your entrance. You tug at your bottom lip as he drifts over your hole at last—but deliverance like this doesn’t come with the flick of a wrist.

Rather than fulfill your every wish, he’s taken with the idea of thumbing at the fluttering ring, the tips of his digits just nicking at your knotted hole.

“Don’t tease me, just do it alread—”

Just two fingers. It only takes Toji slipping past your sticky slit to ruin your pussy beneath that burning stretch. He’s sinking into you, your cunt swallowing every bit of Toji’s fingers. He’s down to the hilt with you, so far gone that he has no choice but to adorn your sweet spot with his hooked reach.

“Hah, omygosh—fuck, Toji!”

“Thaaaat’s it! Oh, you feel that?” Toji taunts as his wrist flicks against your splitting cunt.

All he’s met with is your breathless gaps, your mouth hinged by a gape. He’s got you right where he wants you—speechless and needy—and that’s exactly when he plans to strike.

And Toji can’t help but savor every passing second.

“Aww, why can’t you talk to me, Baby? Told you I just wanted to touch you…’nd it’s nothing you can’t handle…”

There’s a timeless look that settles on your features, one that Toji can’t help to admire with a ghastly smirk. The look that has your gaping mouth webbed with spit, dewy eyes screwed shut, and your threaded brows weighed down by a crease. All he’s done was fill you, nothing more and nothing less.

“Toji, Baby, please! I-I can’t—I can’t take it!”

Toji’s chuckling along the shell of your ear. All that sass, and you can’t even keep the charade you—it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. But that’s his princess, always making a mess he’s just a little too willing to clean up.

“I’m not one to tease, Baby. You know that. You make me wanna go harder, so ‘m not playing when it comes to you,” he hums between the wayward kisses he plants along your cheek.

“Oh, fuck you, Toji,” you wince, hips flinching at his curled fingers.

“Yeah?” he purrs, “Then c’mon, I know you feel that dick begging for you, so do it then…fuck me, Mama.”

His taunt comes with the relentless drive of his soiled fingers, bullying your sweet spot with brash toils. He’s trying to be kind but when you start clenching down around him like that, he’s faced with having his way with your squelching pussy.

His wrist picks a brazen droll, driving up against your honeyed walls however he pleases. All his efforts reward him with a ring of white to brandish his twirling digit—and bring you onto the cusp of what might just be another wave of ecstasy.

You’re shaking, thrashing about in his hold for mercy from his punishing touch, but Toji’s doesn’t even grant you a lick of freedom. Not when he’s so insistent on keeping you close, his hunkering body seizing you in his grasp.

“Toji, wait! I don’t think I can cum again!” you hysterically sob, bracing your body for the weight of yet another orgasm.

“Oh, but you can, Princess, “ Toji’s quick to reassure, “Just not now.”

Leaving you with one final curl of his fingers, Toji swiftly reels his glossy digits from your heat.

Toji embellishes a pumping fist around his length, lathering your slick down his shaft. His hips ride against you, bringing the head of his cock to rake between your sloppy folds.

But that’s all he does, simply dragging his twitching cock aimlessly. He plays it off, but the throbbing veins that dust against your clit tell you how he’s barely hanging from a sliver of thread.

You had the chance to ridicule him, call out Toji for his bullshit—but who were you to say a word when something so easy like this was throwing you into ruin? Each time he pulls back, that brewing heat in your core pines for him, inexplicably desperate for his fat cock to spread you thin around him.

You dip your head along his chest, catching sight of his crumbling exterior. He’s breaking, the man you once knew is now replaced by his shadow self. He’s a panting mess, his fair skin claimed by heat’s red tinge, and those midnight blue eyes are clamped shut. Toji’s dangling at the edge with his feeble attempts of euphoria, as if the solution to his issue doesn’t lie right between your legs.

“Tojiii…” you call out, earning his lowly grunt as a response. “Don’t keep me waiting!”

“H-h…hm?... Think you can take it, Baby?” Toji sighs as his forehead rests along your temple. His eyes peel open to find you staring right back at him, that precious dreamy gaze binding him to your every whim.

“Mhm,” you nod, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. “I can take it.”

Excitement gets the better of Toji at the sound of your voice. All knowledge of his feeble states flees from mind as he races to align himself with you. One brash snap of his hips sends his cock wedged between your fluttering walls and his mind snapped in two.

“Fuck…” Toji’s trembling against you, painting the peak of your shoulder in hitching breaths. All he’s accomplished is plugging you up with the pink-hearted crown of his cock and he's doomed with facing a losing battle.

With whatever breath he can muster, Toji grapples with himself to fulfill his lone task. No matter how good, how sinful, how tempting it seems, he’s got no choice but to walk down the path of slow and easy if he desires to win this race.

Inch by painstaking inch, Toji guides himself to fill you. The slow drive of his hips coaxes the fat girth of his cock to simmer along your silken walls. As his eyes begin to roll, he’s groaning at how your pussy’s suckling him deeper.

There’s something to be noted with how he’s immersing himself in your warmth, how his gentle approach differs from nights like this. Maybe it’s because for once, Toji isn’t rushing to stuff you, he isn’t rushing to make you eat your words. Tonight, he’s got something else on the brain, something soft and gentle.

And with this ‘gentle’ approach, you can’t help slow down with him. You can’t help but notice all the little details unfolding between your merging bodies, like how the heavy underside of his cock twitches with each inch plunged inside of you or how the veins ribboning his length pulse whenever you clench around him.

You can feel every unspoken word he’s crying out to you—and he knows you can too.

“You feel that, Baby? That’s me…stretching you out like that…nice ‘nd slow, just for you. C-Can I take my time with you?” he’s almost begging as his warm breaths fans along your opened mouth.

“Y-yes…fuck, yes, please!” you cry out, sealing the deal with a sloppy kiss. A kiss so messy that control flies out your hands and leaves you two crashing into one another.

Through the hunger of desire, Toji’s drawn back into exploring your body, intuition guiding what’s blinded by logic. He’s driven by the messy kisses you push against his lips to hold you close, to have his touch become your entire world.

He knows you like having your hips squeezed, so he does it. He knows you like having your nipples tweaked between strokes—so he does it. He knows you love those deep, long strokes that overwhelm your pussy with sheer thrill, so he does that too just to hear the praise.

“Yesyesyesyes—j-just like that!”

“That’s my girl, feels good, right? I kn—shit—I know!” He chuckles, hips mindlessly drawn back for another laborious round. It’s tedious work but Toji’s enjoying every moment of it. Even with his mind so hazy, he isn’t one to overlook how good it feels to have your velvety walls coddling his pudgy length.

He can’t tune out the lewd symphony playing in his ears either. By guiding his cock to strum your walls, he’s able to give you a solo debut with those breathless notes pouring from your lips. By curling his hips just right, he’s able to coax your pussy into giving him those perfectly viscous chimes that churn through the air.

And when he’s ready for the finale, all it takes is for that single dip. That single dip that sends his tip to kiss your teased sweet spot sparks every fiber of your being into a raging flame.

Your mind, broken by the night, is too far gone for the courtesy of announcements. Your body, drained and frail in Toji’s hold, is spent of all precious energy—but that fact alone welcomes the crashing world of your orgasm through you like no other.

Because when Toji did land that finishing kiss, all he’d done was strike devastation upon you both.

Your legs fall to a thundering close, limbs riddled with harsh tremors. Your hands race to grasp into the robust arms Toji’s tied around you, manicured nails scratching at his bulging muscles. Your spine arches off of his chest, and all you can do is whimper as the ripped tide leaves your body parched and weak.

Toji’s no better when he rushes to withdraw from you, seething out a string of curses at how the cold air bullies his cock. With a fist wrapped to the base, he pulls one final stroke over his length before the rushing spill of white weeps from his raw tip.

Toji cuddles himself besides you, burying his head along the nape of your neck as he bucks his hips into the fat of your ass.

It’s all too much for him. His vision’s blown white and spotty, his heart skipping beats, and the sweltering heat settling amongst his skin drives him mad. Toji’s desperate for something, anything to ground him.

He’s left to his own devices, scouring around until his findings leave him to cling to your waist. He prays you won’t say too much for the brash act, but you’re the only one he can turn to, the only one who knows how much of a toll his bliss takes on him.

What he doesn’t expect is you combing back his sweat-sunken hair, your lips scattering kisses along his clenched jaw, and the thoughtful words of encouragement loops in his ear.

“It’s a lot, right? Just let it out…”

“Fuck, ‘m still cumming,” he rasps. He has a song mulling heavy on his heart, all those moans waiting to break free from their cage. With all the restraint he can muster, Toji knows he can’t continue the ruse of choking back the notes any longer.

And with you soothing his woes, Toji’s resistance gives without a second thought. The heartless, cold shell Toji dons shatters the moment his lips give way with a whimper. Because of you, he’s whimpering, letting his body grieve the weight of his orgasm with you as his lone witness.

You pull his clipped hand from your waist into your own, swiping at his roughened knuckles with the pad of your thumb. “That’s it, you’re doing such a good job, Baby.”

“T-Thank you, Princess,” Toji shudders between breaths.

A veil of silence falls over the room, the pair of you finally mending tattered breaths. While silence keeps the scene calm, nothing about your entangled bodies changes one bit.

Your hand can still be found in his, your bodies still bare and melted into each other, even the exchange of soft kisses joins the frame.

But calmness is a fleeting trait, with the call of Toji’s name summoning a new plot to play out.

“Oh…Toji?” you innocently coo.

“Hm?”

“Can we go again? Just one more time, please?!?”

A weary smirk crowds upon Toji’s lips as he flickers his heavy eyes over your face—that callow look of batting lashes melting his perseverance. Such a pretty face, and a kind voice, but the nastiest mind.

His chest is still heavy, sweat lathers his skin, with exhaustion claiming him whole, Toji’s newfound soft spot for you curbs him from committing such a treasonous act of denying you.

“You really wanna go again?” He chuckles, pressing his forehead to your own.

“Mhm,” you nod, pulling your bent leg taut to your chest.

“It’s gonna be slower than before…”

“That’s fine, I just—"

“You don’t have to say it or explain yourself, Princess…I know.”

It’s just as you said, Toji knows you so well, so much so that he knows that you aren’t after another high—it’s just the sheer intimacy that has you both addicted.

Because for the first time in Toji’s life, he’s finally reached his long-waited oasis through your hands—sensuality.

A place where time stands still for lovers, allowing them to abstain from all that isn’t each other. Where all that’s needed to survive is the heat of one’s body, the synchronization of breaths, and the beating drum of a unified heart.

That s why Toji has no issue to grant your wish by taking hold of his length once more, his palm greeted by his hardened cock once more.

Strings of curses rip from Toji’s throat as he works to fill you all over again. The tepid lunge of his hips, the breathy moans slipping from his barred mouth, his hand still clinging to yours as his lifeline—all of which he establishes to be his new standard for taking you.

He keeps his eyes in line with yours when he finally immerses himself so deeply within your walls, a timeless gasp capturing you both.

You’re back to smothering his girth beneath a sticky grasp, marking every inch of his cock in your essence. He’s curling up beside you, using his angled hips to reach deeper than before.

You feel so good, you always do but tonight has Toji’s strong-willed mind rolling off the faintest touch.

Sensitivity isn’t a word Toji likes to associate himself with, out of his respect for his pride and ego—yet he’s imbued with the very essence of the word tonight.

Every graze, kiss, even the shallow channel of your breath renders him a quivering, frail mess. He can’t begin to handle it when you pick up a nasty habit of rocking your hips against him, grinding your deepest bliss down against his cock’s writhing bulbous head.

There’s no loud clash of skin, overdrawn cries, or pleas of mercy—there’s just the beautiful blend of skin on skin, keeping each other company through another one of the world’s perilous nights.

Why ruin you with tyrannical lust when sensuality grants him your warm body melding into his, your every cry sitting like music in his ear, and your touch pulling him into a dream?

“Fuuuuccck,” he's whining, his stark chest billowed with staggering breaths. “Oh Princess, what’re you doin to me?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but it’s been burning on your mind all the same. What was he doing to you?

Just off his driven cock, he’s carving at your walls, littering you with memories of how he fits. He’s marking you with every vein, curve, and twitch he carries so you never forget how he’s supposed to feel inside you. He’s taking the time to make you his, inside and out, by focusing on you and you alone.

All this attention on you, it has the gears of your empty brain turning. And then…the unthinkable falls from your lips.

“T-Toji…please…don’t go…”

Before you can even catch the mistake, Toji’s peppering your cheeks with kisses, shushing your words with his boyish smile.

“Shhh, don’t talk like that. ‘m right here and I’m not going anywhere, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, hiding your blunder behind a returning kiss.

Because, of course, you just meant right now…right?

170 notes · View notes

hometoursandotherstuff · 6 months ago

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Lovely 1885 Queen Anne Victorian in the beautiful town of Mt. Holly, NJ. 7bds, 3ba, $690K.

This home is so authentic- it really looks like a Victorian may have looked, back in the day.

Original millwork.

The only thing that ruins it, is, you guessed it, the ever-present gray paint of homes for sale, no matter what the era.

Will this trend ever die, already?

I hate this, they even did the ceiling.

Beautiful rich wood fireplace and shelving.

Pocket doors do not look good with modern gray walls.

Beautiful pedestal sink and stained glass window in the powder room, plus the height of modern decor, a contrasting griege upper wall.

Lovely fireplace and alcove. I actually prefer a creamy off-white to dreary gray- it looks like constant rainy days.

Great original pantry with a door to the porch.

The kitchen was completely renovated. I don't mind white cabinets in classic Shaker style, and I love the chandeliers. The counters are okay, but I would've liked a more vintage-look backsplash.

Stairs and landing to the 2nd level.

Beautifully curved walls. Love the stripes and wallpaper border.

Oh, good night. The primary bedroom is gray.

I love that little ceiling fixture. It's so cute.

Small sunporch.

Renovated shower room.

Currently, a children's play room, but it could be anything.

Stairs to the upper most level.

Another bedroom up here.

And a new bath with a jetted tub.

The porch is so pretty.

And, it's a wraparound lemonade porch.

10,677 sq ft lot makes a large yard, plus the house has a pretty big back porch.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/48-Broad-St-Mount-Holly-NJ-08060/38133028_zpid/

#queen anne victorian homes #old house dreams #houses #house tours #home tour

172 notes · View notes

auras-moonstone · 5 months ago

Note

Hi!! So the Canucks just lost to the oilers 😔 could we get some more Ethan or Jack x Hockey??

Or sm cowboy Jack related yk bc of his most recent ig post🤭

Anywayyy hope you are having a great start of The Weekend, love your writing 🫶��💋

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ sparking up my darkest night — ethan landry

ᡣ𐭩 word count: 3k

ᡣ𐭩 pairing: cowboy!ethan landry x pop star!fem!reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary: y/n goes to her grandparents’ hometown to hide from the drama, and she meets ethan, a cowboy who helps her through the darkness as they fall in love with each other.

ᡣ𐭩 warnings: fluff. cheesiness.

after long, exhausting hours of driving, y/n arrived to the minuscule town where she was going to hide for undefined amount of time. according to her publicist, disappearing from the public eye was the best choice, primarily for her mental health.

the two grammy award winner fell victim to the manipulation of another famous singer who, using his power as a big figure in the industry, twisted a story and went as far as editing conversations and calls to paint y/n as a villain.

and it had worked like a charm. at the moment, y/n’s name was trend on every platform and the hateful comments outlawed the positive ones, that were practically non-existent. people who already disliked her took the situation as an opportunity to unleash their hatred and some of their fans even turned their backs on her.

the castle y/n had built crumbled overnight, and so she decided to hide in the town her grandparents grew up in and try to pretend she was a normal person and her career and future weren’t slipping through her fingers like sand.

y/n stood right next to the car as her eyes inspected the house from outside. the flowers on the front garden were very much alive, the grass was perfectly cut, the windows were practically glowing. there was no aspect of the house that indicated it had been uninhabited for the last five years, and it sent y/n in a spiral because why was the place in such good conditions?

“y/n?” a boyish voice pulled her out of thoughts.

the girl went stiff and adjusted her sunglasses. “um, no?” she turned around to find a boy her age and a brown and white horse by his side.

amusement filled his eyes. “you are not sure if you’re y/n?” he asked, evidently trying to hold his laugh. “what’s with the big glasses and the bandeau?”

the pop-star instinctively ran her hand over the silk cloth. “i’m undercover.”

“in a vuitton bandeau and driving a benz? hate to break it to you, but that’s not how you go undercover. does your team hate you or something?”

“wouldn’t be surprised.” she muttered under her breath. “anyways, how do you know my name, smartass?”

“i’m ethan landry, nice to meet you.” he extended his hand for a shake and his calloused fingers met hers. to his surprise, they were calloused as well, and then he remembered that y/n played way too many instruments so it made sense. “my parents are friends of yours, they asked me to check if you’d arrived safely and to help you settle.”

“oh, that’s nice of you. thank you.” y/n smiled gently.

“no problem at all. at your service, ma’am.” he jokingly tipped his cowboy hat.

y/n laughed. “nice hat, want to exchange?”

ethan scoffed. “get that overpriced thing away from me, i’d rather stay true to my roots.”

“whatever, cowboy. are you going to introduce me to this gorgeous creature?” she eyed the horse with soft eyes.

“i already told you, my name’s ethan.” he winked, making her roll her eyes. but the boy was charming, there was not denying that. “this is my horse, pegasus, and his favourite song of yours is white horse.”

her shoulders shook with laughter and ethan’s heart skipped a beat. that sound was as angelic as her voice. but he quickly locked those thoughts away, he could not go there. she was not only here for a short period of time, she was also beyond untouchable.

“hi, pegasus. aren’t you the cutest horse ever? yes, you are.” she baby-talked the gigantic animal while petting him. “i love your name.” the horse made a sound and the next thing she knew, he licked the side of her face. “aww! it’s nice to meet you too. you’re as charming as your owner, huh?”

“thanks for the compliment but i’m not going to lick your face.” ethan joked, but he was screaming from the inside.

y/n sighed, feigning disappointment. “well, i tried.”

they got to know each other a bit more as ethan helped her get settled in the house, which he knew like the back of his hand because he was the reason why the house looked good as new. her parents payed him to clean the house and take care of the garden.

“well, i’ll leave you to start getting familiar with your new home for the time being. i wrote down my number and sticked it to the fridge. you can call me or text me any time, i live five minutes away so it’s no inconvenience for me. don’t hesitate to reach out, okay? whether you need help with something or if you need a friend to talk to.”

a friend. that sounded so nice. her so called friends from the city let go of her hand as soon as the drama unfolded, not giving her a chance to explain. they didn’t even ask what happened, they just disappeared. they discarded her once her reputation went down the drain.

“hey…” he said softly. she met his gaze and the look in her eyes splitter his heart. he lived in a small town and even though he wasn’t on the phone that much, he didn’t live under a rock. ethan knew the reason behind her escapade, and because of his parents’ friendship with y/n’s family, he knew all those things the singer said about her were fabricated and far from real. “the truth will come out. it always does. you’re allowed to feel sad, and angry, and whatever you’re feeling, but don’t let them bring you down.”

“they already did. my career might be over, everyone hates me, the record is thinking about letting me go because i don’t bring them a good image anymore, i have no friends left. they made me ran away from my home, ethan. i can’t even defend myself because they’re so filled of hatred that they won’t hear my side of the story.”

“so you don’t play the part of the victim, even though you are one. you gather all the awful things they’re saying about you and laugh it off. make it your brand. they can’t use it against you if you embrace the hate.” he said all of those things, and he truly believed it. but at the same time, he had the urge to bring him into his arms and secure her from the outside world.

she pressed her lips in a thin line “that sounds great, ethan. but i don’t know if i can do that.”

he nodded in understanding “and that’s normal. the wounds are still raw, but you’ll get there eventually, because you cannot let them win.”

“you’re kinda wise, cowboy.” she finally smiled.

“thank you, super star. maybe in your next album you can mention a hot cowboy who helped you see reason.”

“oh, do you know any hot cowboys? introduce me please.” she teased him.

ethan gritted his teeth. he did not like the image of her with someone else at all. he had met her two hours ago and he was already having possessive thoughts. ethan was definitely not going to survive y/n. he feared she already had him under her spell. after all, her funny comebacks and soft heart were impossible to resist.

“nah. you already have the best combo in town, the hottest, most charming cowboy—me—, and his sweet sidekick—pegasus.”

y/n shook her head in amusement “you’re so full of yourself.” but she couldn’t deny that she agreed with him.

“more like aware of myself.”

“i don’t know how that hat fits in that big head of yours.”

“it’s custom made, darling.” he winked.

“and pretty ugly, too. here, let me help.” she took off her bandeau and wrapped it around his hat. “now you’re a fancy cowboy.”

“i’m going to be the town’s biggest disappointment.” yet, he didn’t take it off. “i really have to go, but let’s do something tomorrow, okay? maybe i can show you around town.”

she smiled like the cheshire cat. “can i ride a horse?”

“sure, we can borrow my sisters’”

“yay! can’t wait. see you tomorrow, ethan.”

“it’s fancy cowboy for you, super star.” he winked and then left the house.

as she watched both pegasus and ethan disappear from her sight, she realized it had been months since the last time she had smiled so genuinely. and even though she had been in this town for a couple of hours, she already decided it was the best decision she could’ve made.

as soon as ethan caught sight of y/n standing in the porch, he smiled like a little kid. she was adorable, with a basket in hand, short overalls and cowboy boots and excitement lighting up her face.

“dressed for the occasion, i see.” ethan said.

“like it?” she asked, doing a little turn.

“you look gorgeous, y/n.” he answered softly making the singer blush. “though, there’s something missing to complete the outfit.” her curious eyes met his, and he simply smiled as he took a cowboy hat from his bag. he put it on y/n’s head and hummed in content. “now we’re talking.”

“i love it! thank you so much!” y/n didn’t even think before jumping and throwing her arms around his slim waist.

“you’re very welcome.” he murmured, hugging her back. her figure felt so perfect against his, like puzzle pieces. “what’s on the basket?”

“i made cupcakes, a cheesecake and sandwiches. i was thinking we could stop to have a little picnic.”

“that sounds very nice. i know a spot by the lake.“

y/n admired her surroundings. the sun reflecting on the lake, the green grass, the quietness, the tall trees, the animals living so freely. she felt so at ease, not needing to be in high alert for invasive paparazzis or overstepping fans.

“a penny for your thoughts?” ethan asked, curious about what thoughts had her smiling so big.

“it feels so good not being under scrutiny. no hunters with cellphones at sight, i feel so fucking light.”

“you don’t miss the city?” he asked curiously.

“not even a bit.” she answered truthfully. “when the drama began, i realized i have nothing there.“

“what about your friends? boyfriend? girlfriend?”

“no boyfriend or girlfriend.” thank god, ethan screamed internally. “and all my supposed friends turned into smoke. being friends with a liar is not good for their image, and that’s the whole reason why they hung out with me i now realize.”

“fuckers.” he spat angrily. “when your next album breaks all the records they’re going to came back with their tails between their legs and you’re going to laugh at their faces.”

how could someone she had met less than a day ago make her feel so much? “you’re setting the bar too high for my next album. what if it ends up sucking and you have to eat your words?”

he shrugged “easy, you just have to work your ass off so my ego isn’t hurt by not being right.”

“working hard is the way of making a good album? damn, i would’ve never thought of doing that!” they exclaimed sarcastically.

“lucky you met me, then.”

jokes aside, y/n really was lucky. the soft spot on her heart was slowly becoming reserved for him. feelings were already blooming and there’s nothing she could do to stop it.

she really liked how funny he was and god, she was part of hollywood yet she had never encountered someone more breathtakingly beautiful than ethan landry. but the way he constantly made her believe that she could truly get her reputation back? the way he truly had faith in her? that’s what made her certain he was the best of the best.

“would you…” he started the question, then hesitated. y/n raised her eyebrows, urging him to keep going. “would you consider leaving the city to move here?”

“right now? i would say yes, i’d really consider it. but that’s because in l.a everyone is going to shove a camera in my face and ask questions and i wouldn’t be able to go out without hate being thrown at me.”

ethan nodded. “yeah, that makes sense.”

“i guess time will tell.”

“maybe i’ll have to make sure to give you endless reason to stay.”

she had a feeling it wouldn’t take too much work. besides, him living there was enough reason to make her stay.

six months had gone by. everyone wondered where y/n was, if she was going to drop new music, if she was going to show her face, activate her social media again, if she was going to address the drama and explain her side of the story in detail. everyone speculated that she was drowning in her own misery—which they agreed she deserved for being a liar and manipulator—, they had no idea she was going better than she ever had. or that she had just finished writing her comeback album.

“this is amazing, y/n.” ethan said when he finished reading one of the songs. “everyone’s going to love it.”

they were currently sitting in y/n’s living room, just right by the fireplace. they had brought down her mattress and made a fort with the covers and pillows. ethan had begged her to show some of the songs, and she accepted. she was not showing him the ones she had written about him, though.

“i don’t know about that.” she shook her head. “anyways, i’m not doing it to be liked again. i guess the only reason i’m dropping this album is because i don’t want to keep my side of the story to myself. if i want to close this chapter of my life, everything needs to be let out. and i also want my remaining fans to know.”

“you don’t want your career back? you deserve it. you’ve worked so hard to get the spot you had before that jealous prick ruined it.” ethan spat with hatred. honestly, at this point he was more angered by the whole thing than her. it made her heart melt, the way he cared about her.

“i do want my career back, but i don’t want it to be the center of my world anymore. i’ve found other things that brings me joy, too. i don’t want to let go of them.”

ethan pushed himself up on one elbow and looked down at her. “and… what are those things?” he asked hope invading his chest.

“picnics next to the lake, taking care of farm animals, riding horses while watching the sunset, just… enjoying my life with no pressure.“ she spoke, then shoot her gaze up, meeting his. “but mostly, i enjoy doing those things with you. having you in this house, making dinner with you, baking, making forts, dancing around the kitchen… you make me want to leave my old life behind.”

ethan smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “there’s nothing i’d love more than for you to stay here with me, but i’d never ask you to give your career up.”

“i know. i know you wouldn’t, and that’s why i like you so much. you’ve been supportive since the beginning. you’re the main reason this album is going to exist. not only because you were my muse, but also because you gave me the strength to want to get my career back.”

“y-your muse? what are you talking about?”

“i only showed you two songs, the album is going to have around sixteen songs. those i showed you are about the drama, but… the concept is going to be about how finding love got me through the drama.”

“finding love? you…?” he would’ve been embarrassed of his high pitched voice if he weren’t so shocked by her choice of word.

she nodded softly, and eyed him hesitantly, trying to figure out if she’d read the signs wrong. next thing y/n knew was ethan rolling on top of her and his soft lips pressing against hers. “i love you. i love you. i love you.”

“i love you, too.” she kissed him back. “eth?” he hummed. “what do you think about the basement?” she asked, making him blink in confusion.

“the basement?”

“yeah, do you think it would be a cool place to build my little recording room?”

his jaw fell open. “what are you saying?”

she traces his face features with her fingertips “i’m saying that i’m moving here. and there’s no way i’m driving to L.A everyday to record the album, i would get too tired and i’d miss you too much.”

“we could move to your apartment until you finish.” he suggested.

“you would move to the city for me?” she asked, getting a bit emotional.

his eyes sparkled. “i would do anything for you.”

“you’re so fucking sweet, but you don’t need to move. i really want to move here, for good. i would probably have to drive a few times a month for important meetings or for interviews, but this is my home. both you and this town.”

he had no words, he simply kissed her softly and then hid his warm face on the crook of her neck. after a long, peaceful silence, he finally asked. “can i read those love songs?”

y/n smiled. “why don’t i play them for you?”

“this is the best day of my fucking life. don’t move, i’ll get your guitar.” he quickly got off her and ran up the stairs like an over-excited puppy.

y/n couldn’t believe what a turn her life has done. a couple of months ago she wished to have a time machine to avoid that call that turned her life into hell. now, she found herself feeling grateful that happened. not only she felt stronger but it also showed her the fake world she had blindly been living in. and most importantly, it brought her to ethan, and she would go through hell thousands of times for him.

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