#happiness vs pleasure | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

andypantsx3 · 1 year

Text

DEAD RECKONING : TODOROKI TOUYA x READER

SUMMARY: A makeup artist at a haunted maze, all you want to do is make it to the end of the season with a little extra cash in your pocket and no murder convictions on your record. Scare actor Todoroki Touya makes that last part a challenge. (7.8k) CONTENT & WARNINGS: no quirks au, halloween, enemies to lovers, fem + afab reader, slight scumbag touya, haunted maze workers, smut, semi-public sex, smoking, heavy swearing, touya likes having his hair pulled + girls who are a little mean to him, sort of good girl vs bad boy vibes, 18+ minors please dni NOTES: Happy Halloween from me!! This fic is part of the Willow's Haunted House collab. Dedicated to cat-slippered and ofmermaidstories, for workshopping what eventually became this fic with me about a thousand years ago. I’m sorry I turned Bakugou into Dabi. And I’m sorry for dedicating the now Dabi fic to you. But not sorry enough to not have done it. Love you. :)

If there was one thing you hated about Halloween, it was Todoroki Touya.

Shockingly, this was not a commonly-held sentiment, which was the only reason there even was a recurrence of Todoroki Touya darkening your Halloween seasons in the first place.

For the last three years, you’d spent your fall semester working as a makeup artist at the Musutafu haunted maze alongside a slew of other college and local kids looking to make a little extra cash. The hours were fairly flexible, and the wage covered your textbooks, with a little left over to keep you in the occasional coffee between lectures.

But your wages did not nearly cover the amount of psychic damage you had been dealt, managing Todoroki Touya’s obnoxious, sarcastic, chain-smoking ass day after day for seasons on end.

On lucky days, someone else was on Touya duty. But on unlucky ones, you found him sprawling in the plastic makeup chair opposite you, those intense blue eyes tracking you with no small amount of pleasure, like he was this afternoon.

You stopped in the doorway, a curse slipping out of you. You’d been hoping that you’d get lucky today, as the day was otherwise an excellent one. You’d invited a group of friends to do the maze with you after you got off shift, and you had been looking forward to it all week.

But it figured Touya could never let you have too good of a time.

“Missed you too, sweetheart,” he drawled over the noise of displeasure that escaped you. He was at least already dressed in costume, so he wouldn’t go smearing his makeup as he pulled it on, a tumble of stitches and frayed edges that had once been a dark-blue duster, but now just mostly gaped open to show the hard planes of his chest.

“I’m so sure,” you told him, averting your eyes from his pecs. You sighed, resigning yourself to his presence, and made your way in, dumping your bag on the staff room couch.

“This is a very hostile work environment you’re creating,” Touya rasped, his grin sharp. Years of chain-smoking outside the maze had left his voice even lower and raspier than when you’d first met him three years ago.

“Don’t worry, it can always get more hostile,” you told him, affecting your own sweet grin as you moved over to the vanity, digging through all the makeup and prosthetics for the ones he’d need.

Touya himself was severely scarred, which was likely why he’d applied to work at the haunted maze in the first place. You’d never asked him about his scars, but you’d heard enough gossip from the other maze workers to know that they were the product of a childhood accident, involving the burning down of his father’s—the then-and-current mayor’s—house.

He’d accentuated them with a shit load of facial piercings, and was sort of off-putting to look at the first time you caught a glimpse of him. The issue was that, once your eyes made sense of what they were seeing, he was infuriatingly handsome.

You’d heard he’d initially been unleashed on the maze with no makeup or prosthetics, and within the first evening was causing line backups, with all the parties of teen girls who were taking a little too much time lingering around his section of the maze.

So now he was subjected to prosthetics to make him uglier, a fact that he seemed to absolutely relish.

You dug out the monster prosthetic pack that gave him jutting forehead ridges. “Let’s make the outside reflect the inside, shall we,” you told him as you flapped the rubbery pieces at him, smirking your own little smirk.

Touya’s answering grin was wicked, and he relaxed back in his seat, sprawling his legs out wide in that infuriating way men had. “Think my outside is too pretty then, huh?” he asked, sapphire eyes flickering over you.

Your face went hot in a weird combination of anger and embarrassment. “I try not to think of your outside,” you told him pertly, making sure to slap the forehead piece onto him hard enough to make a splat noise.

His mouth twitched again but he let you go to work, gluing the pieces down against his face, careful not to press them to the seams of any of his scars. He was tall enough even lounging in his seat that you only had to lean over a little to focus clearly on his face, all long legs and rangy muscle.

This close, he always smelled like cigarette smoke, with an undercurrent of something rich and dark, like cinnamon or chocolate. You could never put your finger on it, but you were not about to go sniffing him at any length to figure it out, even if it was annoyingly appealing.

He’d probably love that, and would absolutely never let you live it down.

Touya’s eyes tracked you closely as you worked, but otherwise his expression was still, and you thought not for the first time that it really was too bad he was so obnoxious. He was actually quite handsome, with a soft, sensuous mouth, a blade-straight nose, and vivid blue eyes that all but glowed like the embers of a crackling fire when he was provoking you.

It was a shame he wasted all his beauty being the most annoying man on earth.

You’d heard from the other maze workers that he was relatively well-known around the area, having spent his teen years doing petty criminal shit to destabilize his father’s reelection campaigns, netting himself several jail stays and a record a mile long. He’d settled somewhat since he’d gotten a job at a piercing parlor downtown and several side gigs like the maze, but people weren’t fully convinced he’d abandoned his old ways, and he still clearly relished any opportunity to discomfort and destabilize anyone who got on his bad side.

Apparently including you.

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard, sweetheart,” Touya said, those cerulean eyes blinking up at you.

You realized you’d paused over him, midway through blending his prosthetic forehead in, and another annoying little smirk rode his mouth.

You took care to roll your eyes at him, gesturing at him with your brush. “I know several places I can stick this if you’re not careful.”

Touya’s smirk melted into an unholy grin. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he rasped, eyes glittering up at you.

You went back to work on him with a little more force than necessary, blending hard enough that you saw his broad shoulders shift in an effort to keep his neck braced. “I doubt any time with you could be classed as good,” you said pertly, giving a final few brushes before stepping back, satisfied with your work.

The forehead made him look unhinged as he offered another smirk, leaning forward. “True—the feedback I usually get is ‘incredible’, ‘mind-blowing’, ‘earth-shattering’, ‘toe-curling’, ‘scream-inducing’—”

“Oh I’ll scream if you keep talking,” you said hotly, even as your cheeks warmed. Even with the stupid fucking forehead he was annoyingly handsome. You needed him a thousand million miles away from you before you herniated something, jumping back and forth between annoyance and attraction.

Maybe it was time to stop signing up to work here.

“Now get out of my room, I have other people waiting,” you commanded, thankful when you heard the scuff of a boot at the door confirming another maze worker waiting.

Touya didn’t look at all chastened, but he unfolded himself from the chair in an unfurling of broad shoulders and long legs. He leaned in close as he passed, voice dipping low. “See you later, sweetheart,” he said, a smile curling his mouth.

Annoyingly, his proximity crossed a bunch of the wires in your brain, and you fumbled before managing, “Not if we’re both lucky.”

“Stop, I’ll blush,” he drawled, another unholy grin splitting his cheeks before he saluted two fingers at you and ducked out of the room. The scent of smoke and cinnamon followed him, and you let out a sigh of relief, the air and your brain clearer now that he was gone.

No sooner were you free of him, however, than another problem was immediately introduced.

“So…he actually talks to you?” The other maze worker’s head poked through the door, her eyes resting on you intently. You recognized her as a local highschooler who’d just joined this season, who usually ended up getting in early enough to get her makeup done by the other artist.

You blinked. “I…unfortunately?” you answered, confused.

She stepped into the room, and you reflexively gestured her over to the chair that Touya had just abandoned.

She hummed as she took her seat, eyeing you curiously. “Wow. How’d you get him to do that? He doesn’t really talk to any of us,” she informed you.

You could feel your eyebrows lift towards your hairline. “He…doesn’t…?”

She shook her head, her pretty golden ringlets swaying with the motion. “He’ll chainsmoke with Tomura and he sometimes talks to Himiko. But the other girls—they say he just laughs and walks away if they try to chat with him.”

Well. That sounded rude enough to be true to form, you thought. But when Touya was in your makeup chair you couldn’t get him to shut the hell up. You shifted, uncomfortable with the idea that Touya had any special soft spot for you. Maybe, like a cat, he could sense who didn’t much like him and decided to latch on out of spite.

“You might be a little young for him,” you decided, going over to the vanity and digging out the prosthetics she’d need—a witch chin and a raised gorey slash that would open along one cheekbone.

“No—it’s all the other girls too. And most of the guys,” she told you. “He must like you.”

A laugh escaped you, and you turned back to her with the prosthetics in hand, a few new brushes and a white, cakey paint palette shoved beneath your elbow.

“I don’t think he likes anyone,” you told her, setting everything down and applying the tacky glue to the underside of her chin prosthetic. “I think he just likes to inflict himself on people he knows it will annoy. You could act disinterested in talking to him and he’d probably come flitting right over.” The image of Touya suffering at the hands of a league of flirty high school girls pleased you—better they suck up his time and energy than you.

“I don’t know,” the girl said uncertainly. “Maybe he likes you.” But she was forced to leave it at that once you started applying her chin, making it difficult for her to speak.

You certainly didn’t think that was the case.

But the seeds of doubt had already been sown, a question that you thought would probably haunt your evening now that it had been formed. Just why did Touya talk to you if he was so standoffish with other people? And what did it mean that he made such a point of it?

You knew for sure it wasn’t because he liked you, his obnoxious manner said that well enough. But why did you get treatment that was significant enough that even the other maze workers would comment on it?

And, perhaps even more concerningly, why did the thought agitate you so much?

You decided to try your best not to think about it, and have a good time with your friends once they got there, putting Touya out of your mind. You returned to doing the girl’s makeup with vigor, suddenly as eager to get her out of your chair as you had been Touya.

She was finished in record time and she thanked you, carefully not to smile too widely lest she dislodge the prosthetics. You took in the next person waiting as she left, slowly working your way through the line of people as the hour drew ever closer to the maze’s evening opening time.

Eventually you finished up and collected your things, making your way out front to find your friends already waiting for you. They’d clearly dressed with the intent to go out after—something you hadn’t considered—their dresses short and slinky and their makeup smoky. You’d have liked to have joined, but you were still in the sweater and leggings you’d come straight from lectures in.

Maybe you would have time to go home and change after the maze.

You were scooped up into several hugs, breathing in the sweet scents of various perfumes, and informed that you absolutely did have to go home and get changed after so you could come out and get “Hallowasted!” too.

“Okay if I’m not busy peeing my pants, which monsters are the ones you did?” your roommate asked, dancing around to warm herself in the cool fall air. “I wanna see ‘em.”

You named several of your creations, conveniently leaving off Touya. You knew that if your friends took too close a look at him and figured out what he looked like under the cakey makeup and forehead prosthetic, they’d never leave the maze. You knew he sat somewhere around the end of the set up, in an alcove that had been decorated to look like an abandoned village with burned out cabins, a mess of bones dotting the ground at the side of the walkway.

You were also hoping you could pass unnoticed in the group of your friends, as there was no doubt in your mind that Touya would take special care to annoy you in particular. So you did not want your group to linger long enough for your friends to scope him out.

You would know it was him under the makeup you’d done yourself, but being cornered somewhere in the dark with the soundtrack of screams echoing in your ears would not exactly have you feeling your boldest.

Your group had dinner at the food trucks parked out front, chatting and laughing and waiting for the crowds to die down, each indulging in one drink for bravery before joining the line. Eventually you ended up at the front of the queue, late in the evening, your friends crowding in behind you, whispering nervously.

“You first,” your roommate hissed when you looked back at them questioningly. “You work here, you have to do the honors.”

You sighed, accepting your fate, making a mental note to subtly shift to the back of the pack as you made it further into the maze.

Then you were being greeted by Shigaraki Tomura, whose makeup you’d done last. He’d been given layers of prosthetic peeling skin and a scar at his mouth, and he was decorated with a layer of disembodied hands gripping him all over. He shredded your tickets, looking unenthused.

“Remember that inside the maze, none of the monsters can touch you,” he recited dully. “You are not permitted to touch them in return; do not hit, kick, push, bite, slap, lick, scratch, or otherwise assault the actors. Don’t tamper with the props, do not leave items behind. Be respectful of other guests and do not linger too long in the rooms. If you need to leave for any reason, every room or alcove has clearly-lit exits marked in red.”

His eyes briefly met yours as he waved you through, and you thought you saw a pale brow go up.

But then you were being shoved forward by your friends, several hands clinging to your arms and the back of your shirt, and you stepped forward into the dark of the hall.

The maze truly was a labyrinth—it started indoors in a pitch black room, with fake body bags hanging from the ceiling. Toga Himiko, a highschooler whose makeup you usually did, stalked you around the edges of the room, dressed in a torn school uniform with fangs peeking out of her widely grinning mouth, and a dripping knife clutched eagerly in her fingers.

Once you made it past her, the maze spilled outdoors, into a tangle of hedges and artificially-constructed set, steering you in twisting loops around the property.

You were pleased with how terrifying all the actors looked, even having done most of their prosthetics yourself, and found your heart racing as you took every new corner, found yourself freezing up and stumbling back whenever someone jumped out at you, suppressing a shriek.

Your friends participated with gusto, shrieking and ducking away from the monsters, holding you like a human shield between them and the maze workers. You would have been insulted if it hadn’t been so funny.

You made it through most of the maze with little trouble, passing through a haunted swamp, a graveyard with mummies twisting and screaming in their bindings, grasping for you. You stumbled past a man wielding a chainsaw and a set of clowns waving axes, making it through in record time thanks to the push of your frantic friends behind you.

It was only on the last leg of the maze that you finally ran into Touya.

You peered around the corner, recognizing the set up instantly. The burned out houses flickered with blue flame, lighting up the set in an eerie, unsettling sapphire light. The fake bones on the ground sat in piles of ash, glowing stark white in the light. You couldn’t spot Touya anywhere, and you slowly crept forward, trying to shepherd your friends in front of you.

You even almost thought you had been successful, until a rasping voice drawled behind you, “Hello sweetheart.”

And then your roommate screamed, bolting forward, knocking into you and sending you stumbling over a pile of the fake bones. You landed hard on your ass in the patchy grass, the wind punching out of you.

“Oh fuck—” you heard one of your friends say as she too was steamrolled, and you watched the group of them trip over one another in their desperation to get through the alcove, dissolving into chaos in a matter of seconds.

You quickly tried to get to your feet to follow, but a hiss forced its way through your teeth when you tried your ankle, a wave of sharp pain washing over you.

Oh fuck. Not good.

The tread of a boot in the grass next to you made you jump, and your head whipped up to catch sight of Touya crouching over you.

“You good down there?” he asked. His eyes glinted in the dark of the maze, and the blue light cast shadows over his features, twisting them in the dim. Your heartbeat picked up, even as your brain recognized him for who he was.

You cringed, embarrassed that you’d had to hurt yourself in his part of the maze specifically. It figured.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, trying to climb to your feet again. Your ankle twinged in protest, and Touya must have caught the flash of pain on your face because then his hand was under your elbow, supporting you as you rose in an unexpected show of courtesy.

Although he broke the illusion immediately when he opened his mouth again.

“Yeah you look real fine,” he said, quirking an eyebrow. With the prosthetic forehead it made him look sort of demented.

“Well I’ll be fine,” you insisted, even as those blue eyes flickered over you assessingly. His fingers tightened a little on your arm before he bent down, tapping his other hand on your leg.

“Which leg, sweetheart?” he asked. “And where?”

It took you a minute to catch up to what he was asking, confused at seeing him on his haunches before you. A scream went up in the background, some terrified maze goer, and a little shiver went down your spine.

“Uh, the left ankle,” you supplied, startling when Touya’s fingers slid underneath the cuff of your legging over the aforementioned ankle, rolling it up gently. You blinked, surprised at the careful touch.

“Can’t see too well in the dark,” he announced. “But it looks like you ripped it open on something.” He peered back up at you. “Think it’s sprained?”

You shook your head. “Probably just rolled. It hurts but not like go-to-the-hospital level,” you said. “Just give me a minute, I’ll be good.”

Touya considered you for a moment, then got to his feet, moving closer. That scent of smoke and cinnamon drifted over to you, and he bent his head to look into your face.

“Much as you’re the most terrifying thing in this maze, I don’t think people are gonna wanna see you here,” he told you, a smirk cutting into his mouth. “Would ruin the experience. So we’re gonna have to get you out of here.”

You scowled up at him, crossing your arms over your chest. Well no thanks for the concern, then. “I’m going, I’m going, keep your shirt on,” you told him, preemptively gritting your teeth before readying yourself to take another step.

But before you could, one of Touya’s hands was suddenly sliding under your knees, his other slipping behind your shoulder. In the next second the burning buildings were swinging wildly in front of your eyes, and then you were being hefted up into Touya’s arms. You let out a startled yelp, your own hands shooting out to grab his jacket, giving him a wild-eyed look.

“Touya—!” you garbled out, as a smile pulled at his expression.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he told you, looking a little too smug about the situation he’d just put you in. He strode towards the exit, kicking the door open with a heavy boot, carrying you down the hall and back into the building. He was hard with wiry muscle underneath you, and so deliciously warm against you. Your ears went hot with every sure, easy step he took, like carrying you was little effort for him.

Thankfully it was barely a minute before you reached the staff room, where Touya laid you out gently on the couch, much more carefully than you might have expected from him.

Your cheeks and your nose burned, flaming even hotter when he squatted down in front of you and took your ankle in his hand again.

His dark eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he took note of your injury. In the light you could definitely see that you’d caught your ankle bone on one of the fake bones you’d tripped over, as there was a long gash up the side of it, but nothing else looked bruised or otherwise concerning. You thought you’d probably be fine in a couple hours, just a roll.

It was definitely nothing Touya had needed to princess carry you through the staff halls for!

“Don’t move,” Touya told you, and you watched, bewildered, as he stepped away, stalking over to the other side of the room where the staff lockers were. He dug out a shabby backpack, pulling something out of it, and then returned to your side, spreading out his haul on the couch next to you.

You noted a little tube of rubbing alcohol, an antiseptic cream and a bandage, as well as an ice pack. One of your eyebrows went up.

“You rob a hospital or something?” you asked reflexively, heart fluttering a little bit weirdly when Touya’s eyes flickered back up to yours. His eyelashes were long and thick, startlingly pretty.

“Nah,” he said, his gaze cutting suddenly away from yours. “Usually keep shit on hand for my burns.”

Your stomach flipped, and you realized how rude your question had been. Embarrassment welled up in a hard lump in your throat. Well shit. “Oh—fuck. Of course. I’m sorry, Touya.”

A pinch to your leg had you yelping, and his handsome face was serious when he stared back up at you, his eyes practically glowing with intensity. “I don’t need your sympathy.”

You rolled your eyes, rubbing the skin he’d pinched absentmindedly. “It wasn’t sympathy, asshole,” you said. “It was an apology for being thoughtless. Although if that’s how you’re gonna be then I take it back, geez. As if you need sympathy when every girl in this maze—” you froze, clamping your mouth shut when you realized what you’d been about to say. “Uhhhh.”

Touya’s eyes slowly slid down your face, flickering over you as another fucking obnoxious smirk started to twitch at the side of his mouth. “When every girl in this maze what?” he asked, pleasure turning his tone a little silky.

You rolled your eyes, leaning forward to grab the rubbing alcohol off of the couch so you didn’t have to look at him. “When every girl in this maze would like for you to shut up and stop asking questions,” you said, unscrewing the top with a deliberate focus.

Calloused fingers came up to yank the tube out of your grip, however, and Touya leaned in, his grin sharp and white.

“Lemme do it, sweetheart. Return the favor for my prosthetic,” he said. You winced, remembering how forcefully you’d applied his forehead earlier. As you braced yourself, however, his fingers brushed gently over your skin.

You suppressed a shiver at the feeling of him wiping off the blood with the rubbing alcohol, then going over it with the antibiotic cream, smearing it delicately, your nose going hot again. He took his time, careful to cover every inch, kneeling on the ground in front of you with your ankle clutched in one large hand. His duster fanned out behind him, dragging on the ground as he bent over you, but he didn’t seem to care, too absorbed in his task.

When he was done he carefully applied the bandage too, and you looked on, mystified, as he cracked the ice pack with long, strangely elegant fingers, and pressed it over your ankle bone as well.

His eyes flicked back to yours when you let out a short hiss, feeling the zing of the ice all the way in your teeth. Some of his expression looked squashed, given the obstruction of his prosthetic, but you thought he looked maybe just a little bit concerned, before he realized you were just being a baby. You were suddenly overcome with the urge to rip off his prosthetic so you could see his expression in full, and had to pin your arm to your side to stop yourself.

“This was—unexpected,” you admitted, watching him closely. “You’re…a surprisingly good nurse, Touya. Thank you.”

His answering smile was nothing short of wicked. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

You fumbled with the antiseptic and sniffed pointedly, just to have something to complain about. “Well. Your bedside manner could use some work.”

Touya leaned in, his smile suddenly going dark. “Oh, angel, now that’s not what I’ve been told—”

Your palm shot out to cover his mouth, horror overriding your normal brain function. Touya just laughed into the skin of your hand, however, shockingly boyish and sweet-sounding.

You pressed harder, hissing at him to shut the hell up, until you registered the feeling of dry, raised skin under your fingers. You jumped, realizing you were pressing down on his scars.

“Shit, did I hurt you—?” you asked, yanking your hand back, only for Touya to catch your wrist. He blinked, looking surprised that he had.

“No it’s—you didn’t—” he said. His fingers shifted over yours and his eyes darted over your hand in something like shock. “They get dry and pull but they don’t—it wasn’t that.” He sounded annoyed, but not that you’d touched him. That you’d pulled away from touching him.

Somehow, that settled you. Before you understood what exactly was possessing you, you reached back in, satisfied when Touya let you. The pads of your fingers met the edge of a scar again, feeling along the seam. You carefully traced over it the way Touya’s had just traced the cut on your ankle.

Touya’s eyelashes fluttered, and he let out a slow breath. “You don’t need to touch ‘em, sweetheart,” he said finally.

He said it as lightly as he’d said all his earlier nonsense, but he’d been giving you shit for long enough that you recognized there was something deliberate about the ease of his tone this time. This wasn’t his usual, natural timbre.

“Does it bother you?” you asked.

It seemed to take him a minute to decide.

“...No,” he answered, those cerulean eyes catching on yours again. You felt like you could feel your heartbeat in your own fingers, and your skin prickled with something—annoyingly not annoyance.

“Well then shut up,” you told him. “Or I’ll pinch you right on the seam.”

Touya laughed, a slow rolling sound. “Promises promises,” he said, but he seemed more relaxed.

You felt along the contours of his face, mystified by what the hell you thought you were even doing, until you reached the edge of the prosthetic you’d applied. It only took a second for you to give in to the impulse you’d had earlier and start peeling it from his skin, slow and deliberate.

You reached down and helped yourself to the rubbing alcohol, applying it around the prosthetic, letting it dissolve the adhesive before pulling gently. Shockingly, Touya let you do it. He just sat there, watching you with an intensity you’d never experienced before, hardly blinking.

You kept careful track of the prosthetic, unable to look him in the eye, focusing on rubbing off the makeup you’d used to blend it in for good measure. You tried not to examine the weirdly satisfied feeling that settled in your stomach when his natural face was visible to you again.

It was probably just his looks. He really was so handsome for such a grating personality.

You set the prosthetic aside, lost on where to go from here. Touya probably thought you were so fucking weird for just like, rubbing his face like he was some kind of cat. He certainly looked like he had no idea what to do now, which was such a departure from his usually snotty self-assurance that it threw you for an even bigger loop.

“Always thought you’d be a little rougher with me, sweetheart,” Touya finally managed, flashing you a smirk. It looked a little smaller than usual though, like he was drawing it up like a shield, but your hackles raised instantly, like always.

You always, always responded to him.

“Trust me, that can be arranged,” you promised darkly, trying to crack your knuckles. Only one of them crackled obligingly, however, and Touya blinked, before laughing again.

“Yeah?” he asked, leaning in closer. Cigarette smoke and cinnamon clouded your senses, fogging up your brain. “Gonna fuck me up nice and good, sweetheart?”

You dredged around for something snarky to say, but words were suddenly failing you as those infuriatingly pretty features drew closer. Seriously could a makeup artist not catch a break around here?

“Uhhh,” was all you managed, your brain bluescreening, as Touya huffed a laugh, exhaling over your mouth.

“Shut up,” you finally spat out, catching a fistful of that black hair. Touya groaned, however, looking like he liked that of all things, and a red hot flash of something jolted through you.

There was a pause, then, a tiny sliver of a moment where it seemed like one of you might pull back—move away and snipe at one another from a safer distance.

Things somehow seemed to be spiraling out of control, in a way you hadn’t expected, after just one kind gesture from him. You didn’t really understand how you’d suddenly found yourself with him leaning over you, your hand pulling at his hair, but if you had any good sense you’d have pulled away immediately and told him something extra mean, just for good measure.

Except then Touya opened his mouth and escalated things, as usual.

“Make me,” he said, the most absolutely heinous line of all time. You yanked his hair harder, deeply disgusted that he’d try that on you.

And then, like a thread had snapped, you leaned forward and crushed your mouth to his.

Touya reacted like a lightning strike. He surged up over you, weighing you down into the staff room couch. He tasted like spearmint muddled under bitter smoke, and he was broader than he looked under that duster, heavy with lean muscle. You could feel every kilo of it press you down into the cushions as Touya licked hot and filthy into your mouth.

His tongue curled around yours, wet and teasing, and he exhaled on a groan like he’d never tasted anything better. It sent little sparks of electricity jittering up your spine, especially as he shifted between your thighs, that trim waist slotting between them perfectly.

“Fuck, angel,” he said, his tone somewhere between sweet and nasty. “Wanted me this whole time, huh?”

You yanked harder on his hair, telling him to shut up, but the swelling of something hard against your thigh told you he only liked that more. “You are so nasty,” you told him, and you could feel his mouth curl into a wicked grin against the side of your face, before he leaned in and bit the shell of your ear, grinding the evidence of his interest even harder into your thigh.

“I can show you nasty, sweetheart,” he promised, his tone going silky-soft again. A calloused hand slid up into your shirt brazenly, long fingers teasing the underside of your bra. When you didn’t immediately try to yank him out of there he wiggled in further, until his fingers met your nipples, and he got even harder against your leg.

He pinched carefully, moving back to kiss you again so that the sound that escaped you was muffled into his mouth. He kissed you harder as your nipples tightened, pebbling in his fingers, something far too satisfied filling the air around you. His hips canted up, grinding himself into you again, this time a little closer to your core.

Your own hips shifted, moving to increase the friction, trying to shift him closer to your center. His fingers and tongue teased you, each flick of his tongue mirroring the caress of a finger, the soft pinch of his index and thumb.

You couldn’t have controlled yourself if you wanted, too focused on the sensations he was drawing from you, the desperate need to get closer to him though you were already pressed together from mouth to shin. You realized you’d been pulling at his coat when he finally withdrew from your shirt and let you yank it down his arms, exposing a patchwork of scars over dense, mouth-wateringly well-defined muscle.

You inhaled sharply, and Touya paused for a minute—until he seemed to realize that you were fixated on the shape of his arm, rather than the purple bruise of scar tissue. The quickening of his grin in the corner of your vision told you that you’d pleased him.

“You like that, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice obnoxiously sweet. “Want to see the rest of me, angel?”

You ripped your eyes off of his arm to glare at him, which only made his grin wider. The fluorescent lights behind him limned his hair in a pale light, blinding you when he moved his head—and all of a sudden you recalled where you were and what you were doing.

“Here? No! Touya, anyone could walk in!” you said, trying to scramble out from beneath him.

Touya caught you around the thigh, hauling you back underneath him. You noticed he was careful to angle your leg up so you didn’t catch your ankle against the arm of the couch.

“This is far from the worst thing I’ve done in a public place,” he said, laying himself back out over you.

You pushed at his shoulder though, casting a worried glance back at the door. “I am not trying to get fired,” you hissed, even as you shivered with the delicious heat of him over you.

Touya sighed through his nose, and then heaved himself off the couch. You watched him seize the plastic makeup chair and haul it over to the door, stuffing it under the knob at an angle so that it held the lock in place. Then he turned around and prowled right back to you with predatory intent. Your stomach fluttered.

“Better, angel?” he asked, tone soft.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of nodding, but he seemed to know what you wanted anyway, leaning back in to kiss you fiercely.

You melted into the feeling of his mouth over yours, kissing him back just as passionately. You hated how good he was at that, hated how pretty he was under all those scars and piercings, hated how his obnoxious personality wasn’t even a factor in what you wanted to do with him right now.

Touya groaned again when you pulled at a fistful of his dark hair, and then you were dragging him down to the couch and climbing into his lap. Touya seized your left leg as you did, pointedly guiding your ankle away from the edge of the seat, and it only inflamed your desire for him.

“Like you a whole lot better like this,” he said into your mouth, as calloused fingers slid into your leggings.

Your reply was cut off by a moan as he traced his index finger lightly over the center of your panties, before pressing down firmly over your clit. A thousand little points of electricity lit up under your skin, and you shifted into his hand unthinkingly.

A smile formed against your lips, and it was only Touya’s hand making its way into your panties that suppressed the annoyed buzz that started in the back of your brain.

“You kick up such a fuss, sweetheart, but look at what you really think of me,” Touya purred as his fingers slid up into your incriminatingly wet folds. “All this for me, angel?”

You wanted to bite him for his cheek but you feared breaking the skin of his scars, so you settled for giving him a pointed look. He just laughed, his smile smug.

“I’ll show you what I’ve really thought of you too, sweetheart,” he promised, taking hold of your leg again to slide your leggings and panties down. He settled you back over the hard line in his pants, grabbing your hips and pulling you firmly down over it, grinning.

“Love when you’re a spitfire little fucking brat. I’ve imagined taking you right over the vanity every single day for the last three years, sweetheart. Taking you against the lockers and then right here over the couch. Fucking you so hard that you scream and everyone comes running in to see you squirming and crying and begging on my cock, and you want it so much that you don’t even care—”

He laughed when he felt you clench up in his lap, working to unbuckle his belt and free himself, immediately angling you over him. “You want that too, sweetheart? Want to see if I can make you scream so loud that people come to see what’s wrong?”

“My god you never shut up,” you told him, pointedly avoiding the question. In lieu of an answer, you shifted, guiding him to your center and sinking down onto him instead. You watched with satisfaction as he threw his head back and hissed at the feeling of you slipping down around him.

“Fffffffffffuck,” he said to the ceiling, a hand tightening in your sweater. You had to agree, gritting your teeth with the delicious slide of him inside of you, hot and thick and full and perfect. You leaned in, putting your mouth over the scar tissue on his neck, smirking when he exhaled shakily again.

“I think,” Touya huffed. “I should have put you over my lap three fucking years ago.”

You thought back to your first glimpse of him, flicking ash at you as he chainsmoked outside the maze entrance, and thought you would have probably gouged his eyes out if he had tried. Honestly he’d barely scraped together enough good will with his little ankle treatment as it was.

But maybe this is what that girl had been talking about, when she said Touya didn’t talk to anyone besides you. Had he really been more into you than he’d let on, these three years? Is that why he’d been at your throat this entire time?

The thought was lost when Touya’s hips lifted into yours, grinding himself into you just right, and your head fell back with a shivery moan. Touya’s mouth found the skin of your throat and sucked as he bucked up into you, picking up into a faster pace. You rocked back and forth over his lap, guided by Touya’s grip on your hips, relishing in the feel of him inside of you.

His fingers slid back down, brushing over your clit, and you bit down a yelp as he dragged his thumb over it firmly.

“That’s it,” he said, biting down softly on your neck. “Let me hear you, sweetheart.”

You pressed a hand over your mouth instead as he slid in and out of you, those clever fingers working you deftly. He pinched softly, then swirled the pad of his thumb firmly over your clit again, groaning and pounding up into you. “I wanna hear you, sweetheart. Always want to hear your mean little mouth.”

“Touya—shut up—” you panted as he moved you how he wanted, played you like an instrument. Between his fingers and the hard press of him inside you, you felt like you couldn’t escape the pleasure, the feeling mounting within you. No matter how you moved your hips, his fingers were there to meet you, rubbing maddening circles, teasing you mercilessly, and he filled you so good that it felt like he was pressing against that spot from the inside too.

You writhed with the feel of him, as he steadily covered your neck and shoulders with marks of his attention. You couldn’t help but moan, much much louder than you would have liked, and Touya leaned back to look at you again, looking pleased.

“That’s it, yeah,” he said, another grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Louder for me, sweetheart. Want you to come for me.”

You huffed, unable to do anything but squirm in his lap, chasing the feeling closer, ever closer to the edge. You weren’t going to let his infuriating attitude ruin this for you, not when you were so close—

Without input from your brain, your hand reached out to grab a fistful of Touya’s hair again and his hips stuttered, slamming up into you with more force than he had previously. He looked a little shocked, and then a little dazed, and the grip he had on the side of your hip tightened almost to the point of bruising as he forced you down onto him harder, gasping.

“Fuck, yeah, sweetheart—fuck yes,” he rasped.

His fingers rubbed you harder, and his hips slapped up into you frantically. The uptick in intensity had your eyes almost rolling to the back of your head, and you bit your palm to keep the sounds in.

Touya ground into you with a renewed fervor, and it was only another matter of seconds before something inside of you was being wrenched loose. You lost the grip on your control, every nerve ending in your body lighting up and coming alive, singing with pleasure. You seized up, crying, “Oh my god, Touya!” and then you were cumming hard, harder than you ever had, Touya’s talented fingers still working you, his cock still fucking you mercilessly.

Touya swore, spitting out your name like a curse, and then again in almost reverent tones, before he too was following you right off the edge. He slammed you down on him once, twice, and then he was cumming too—shivering against you as he held you tight against him.

The silence of the room around you was ringing, once you managed to return to yourself. Touya was a long, hot, hard wall of muscle between your thighs, his hair mussed and a patch of makeup you’d missed smearing into the hair at his temple. His cheeks were flush with effort over the seam of his scars, and he looked, irritatingly, even more beautiful than he usually did.

Like he could sense what you were thinking, the corner of his mouth rose as those cerulean eyes searched over you, blinking like a pleased cat.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I knew I liked you mean,” he said, his raspy tone rougher than normal.

“And I don’t like you at all,” you sniffed, though you knew the protest was pointless when he was quite literally softening inside of you. You let go of his hair, remembering yourself.

“Aww angel don’t be like that,” he drawled, his grin widening. He leaned in, pressing a slow kiss over your mouth. “I can make it up to you—all three years, if you’ll let me.”

You knew he felt your involuntary shiver, pressed up against you like he was. And that was definitely answer enough for him, as his smile went more handsome and boyish than you’d ever seen it. You hated that you liked it.

“I’ll clean up and clock out,” Touya told you, gingerly helping you off of him and back into your leggings, his eyes fixating a little too closely on your legs as you did so. “You tell your friends you’re gonna go home and rest that ankle. And I’ll pick you up out front, angel.”

You flushed, embarrassed that you’d completely forgotten that you were at work, and you’d intended to go out bar hopping after. But you figured you could be forgiven just this one time.

“Fine,” you said, though your insides were feeling a little fluttery at the thought of leaving with Touya. “But I expect penitence or there’s going to be a reckoning.” You supposed you were owed, for all these years of suffering.

Touya looked down at you from under his lashes, dark and beautiful and still as infuriating as ever. “I’ll give you my best, sweetheart. Over and over until you can’t even walk,” he promised, “Gotta keep you off that ankle, after all.”

You flushed again, yanking your sweater down over your leggings, and fled out the door. Touya’s laughter floated after you, sounding pleased.

You sped up your pace, your ears burning.

And if you were actually rushing not to get away from him, but to return to him sooner? Well, then, nobody needed to know that but you.

#dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #touya x reader #dabi x you #touya todoroki x reader #character: todoroki touya #andie's writing

3K notes · View notes

jo-speaks · 13 days

Text

please please please ft. jack hughes

in which...

you're aware of Jack's reputation with girls, but you know he'll be different with you.

track two in short n' sweet (hughes brothers version) series!

I know I have good judgment

I know I have good taste

It's funny and it's ironic

That only I feel that way

I promise 'em that you're different

Your sister stared at your phone, a picture of the one and only Jack Hughes on it. The look on her face was one of confusion and slight disgust. “That’s… your boyfriend?”

“Well don’t get too happy about it.” You answered, pursing your lips together as you turned off your phone.

She rolled her eyes, “Y/N, he looks like a frat boy who drinks every other hour and fucks a different girl every night.”

Before you could respond, her phone rang. She excused herself into the living room, leaving you pondering on your queen-sized bed. Your sister was partially right, he did have a reputation for being, for lack of better words, a fuck boy.

Ever since he got drafted when he was 18, the number of girls that entered his dm’s was despicable. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t respond to them, getting a few relatively censored pictures in return.

But with age comes maturity. Once he met you, he knew he found his person.

No more DM’s. No more hookups. No more girls. Just you, and only you.

Your sister reentered the room, “Sorry. Mom just wanted to know if I was showing up to meet your boy toy this weekend.”

“I promise you. He’s different.”

And everyone makes mistakes

But just don't

“Do you not trust me? We’ve been over this, babe.” Jack stated, wrapping his arm around your waist as you got into bed with him.

You looked up at him as you rested your head on his bare chest. “I do trust you. But you have to understand why they’re worried about me dating you, Jack.”

His body tensed up, and his hold on your body loosened. You could feel the gentle rise and fall into his chest speeding into a rapid pace. Family meant everything to Jack and you knew that, so you couldn’t imagine how he felt at the idea of your family not liking him just because of stupid decisions he made in the past.

“Sorry. Maybe when we all have dinner tomorrow I can clear that up. I want them to like me, Y/N.” He whispered.

I heard that you're an actor

So act like a stand-up guy

“So. You’re Jack.” Your father said, eyes trailing up and down his figure.

Your boyfriend gulped slightly, trying to keep his composure. “Yes sir. A pleasure to meet you.” He didn’t reply, choosing to stare the boy down instead.

“Dad.” You warned.

Wanting to break up all the awkwardness, your mother introduced herself, giving Jack a warmer welcome than your father. She took his hand and dragged him into the house, leaving you and your dad standing tensely in the doorway.

“I don’t like him. Who the hell does he think he’s impressing with that ‘yes sir’ crap?”

You groaned softly, “Dad, I really like him. Can you please just give him a chance? I promise you he’s a really great guy once you get to know him.”

Your dad stared at you blankly, “How many girls do you think he’s gotten to believe that? Your sister came over yesterday to talk to us. Told us all about him.”

“Yeah, well he’s changed. And whether you choose to believe that or not, all I ask is for you to treat him with a little bit of respect. Please.”

He didn’t respond verbally, opting for a simple sigh and nod as he led the two of you into the house.

Whatever devils inside you

Don't let him out tonight

I tell them it's just your culture

And everyone rolls their eyes

Yeah I know

Maybe it was a mistake bringing your parents to the Devils vs. Kings game. You had never seen Jack as rilled up as he was tonight, but you were sitting close enough to the glass to hear his opponent chirping him about his size. Jack had enough of the cheap shots, choosing to slash and rough around a little bit with the bigger man.

Your mom laughed softly as he got dragged to the penalty box. You looked up, pointing out the camera focused on Jack displayed on the jumbotron.

“People pay to watch me play!” Jack yelled, his voice slightly audible from the other side of the rink at which you were sitting.

While you and your mom giggled about the comment made by your boyfriend, your dad shook his head. “Real classy.”

You sighed, “Dad, please. It’s just hockey culture. He didn’t mean it.

He simply rolled his eyes, “I’m telling you, sweetie. A temper like that doesn’t only exist while he’s playing.” He said, crossing his arms before pulling out his phone to scroll mindlessly on it.

All I'm asking baby

Please please please don't prove em’ right

Jack threw his equipment bag into the trunk of your car, shaking the vehicle slightly as you got into the passenger seat. However, he stopped you before you could buckle in.

“Can you drive?” He mumbled, “If I get behind the wheel right now, I swear to God, I might crash it.”

You simply nodded, stepping out so he could step in. You walked around the car, seeing Jack inside the car, looking out the window into the dark, night sky. Since you didn’t lack common sense, you decided to stay quiet and let his mind run wild. Handling three straight losses isn’t easy on an athlete, especially if that athlete is Jack Hughes.

The half-hour drive back to his Hoboken apartment was mostly silent, other than the occasional sniffle from Jack, his body getting used to being warm after almost six hours at the rink.

After a few more minutes, it grew old. “You okay?”

He scoffed, “Yeah, I’m totally fine after losing, that makes total sense, Y/N.”

“Okay, no. I didn’t do anything to you, so lose the damn attitude because the only thing I’m trying to do is make you feel better.”

“Well maybe use your brain and don’t ask me stupid questions like that when you can clearly see that I’m not.” He retorted, turning his head to look at you.

You furrowed your eyebrows, severely disliking his tone but ultimately too tired to snap back, resorting to a deep sigh and a quiet, “Okay, Jack.”

Pulling the car into the driveway of his apartment, you waited for him to unbuckle his seatbelt and get out of the car. He didn’t, rather letting out a breath and reaching over to grab your hand. “I’m sorry. You’re right, you didn’t do anything to me and I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“It’s fine, Jack.” You mumbled, not meeting his gaze.

He gently cupped your face with his right hand, softly forcing you to look at him, which you reluctantly did. “It’s not fine. You’re my girlfriend and I promise you that will never happen again.”

You nodded, silently thanking him before leaning in to kiss his chapped lips.

Please please please

Don't bring me to tears when I just did my makeup so nice

Heartbreak is one thing

My egos another

I beg you don't embarrass me

Mother fucker ohhh

Please please please

‘Jack Hughes seen with beautiful lady at local Jersey bar. New girlfriend in the NHL superstars’ life?’

You read the headline, immediately throwing your phone from your vanity seat onto your bed. The tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over if you blinked. Unfortunately, you weren’t able to hold back the river that began spilling from your eyes. The mascara entering your eyes was a pleasurable burn due to it distracting you from what had caused the situation to unfold in the first place.

Was he cheating on you? Is this just another gossip site desperate for attention?

“Woah! Hey, what happened?” Jack called out, snapping you out of your spiral.

Unable to form words, you just handed him your phone, looking up at him with an expression of hurt and worry.

You watched as his eyes shifted from left to right, reading the article with furrowed eyebrows. When he was done, he let out a sigh and wiped his face then ran the same hand through his hair.

He set the phone down, squatting down to be on eye level with you. “Baby, I swear it’s not what it looks like.”

“Then what? Because to me, what it looks like is that you were getting nice and cozy with that girl.” You scoffed, trying to turn your chair away from him.

His reflexes were quick enough to stop that, not wanting the conversation to end before he had the chance to explain himself. “Listen to me. Lukey was eyeing her all night. I wanted to be a good big brother and try to set that up. That picture was just taken at a bad time, but I swear to you that’s all it was.”

“Then why the hell was her hand on your shoulder like that?” You cried out, your sobs breaking your voice.

“She did that! I took it right off immediately after, I swear. You have to believe me, Y/N. I would never even think about doing that to you.” He pleaded, not wanting everything the two of you had just because of some touchy girl at the bar.

You tried to calm yourself, wanting to stop the tears but you couldn’t. You believed him, you truly did, but just the idea of him with another woman made you sick to your stomach.

“Okay.” You eventually managed to croak out. “I believe you.”

He pulled you into a tight hug, the mascara running down your cheeks staining his white dress shirt. “I promise I will never, ever, do that to you.”

Well I have a fun idea babe

Maybe just stay inside

I know you're craving some fresh air

But the ceiling fan is so nice

“Do you have to go?” You asked, intertwining your legs with his as you lay on the couch.

He chuckled, “Yes, I do. It’s an event for kids, Y/N. I can’t miss it.”

“But it’s so nice in here! We’ve got Netflix and A/C. What more could you want?”

“Fresh air, maybe?” He said with a teasing tone, “I haven’t been out in so long, I need vitamin D.”

You wiggled your eyebrows, “Or vitamin me.” Jack gagged at your joke, pressing himself away from you as you laughed maniacally from your spot on the couch. “I’m definitely going after that awful joke.”

Once you calmed down, you groaned dramatically, tightening your grip on him, “Anything I can do to convince you to stay?”

“Maybe one thing.” He smirked, leaning up to peck at your neck and jawline. “Grow three more heads and a penis and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Not funny, Hughes.”

And we could live so happily

If no one knows that you're with me

I'm just kidding

But really (Kinda)

Really

“Can I post this?” Jack asked, crossing his arm over your waist to show you his phone.

It was a picture of the two of you sitting on the boat and smiling at each other. A cute photo, truly, but your face was on full display. Jack noticed your questioning stare, leaning up on her elbow so he could see you better.

“I don’t know, Jack. I’d rather you not.”

“Okay… can I ask why? I think it’s a cute photo.”

You let out a soft breath, “I’ve seen the comments under some of your posts. I just don’t want anyone saying anything about us.”

He nodded slowly, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but why do you care so much? It’s just a bunch of fifteen-year-old girls who think they have a chance with me.”

You let out a laugh at his comment, “It’s not that I care, I just don’t think I want to put us out there. Not yet, at least.”

“Gotcha. So I can’t post you at all? Or can I do this one?” He showed you his phone again after a few swipes of his thumb, his screen displaying a picture of him Titanic-ing you on the edge of the boat. Your back was to the camera, but he had turned around to look at his brother, giving Ellen the perfect chance to capture his laughter in the image.

Smiling at the picture, you nodded, giving him the okay.

Please please please don't prove I'm right

Please please please

Don't bring me to tears when I just did my makeup so nice

Jack’s rough hands over your eyes weren’t the most pleasurable feeling. He wasn’t paying attention to his subconscious choice to press the pads of his fingers into your eyes, so you were mumbling constant, “Jack.”s the whole way to wherever he was taking you.

Why he couldn’t have just gotten a blindfold was beyond you.

After a few more steps and the familiar creak of the door, he removed his hands. You blinked a few times, adjusting to the light. Once you did, you saw a bunch of red, pink, and white decorations hanging in the kitchen, a small cake in the middle with little figures of you and Jack on the top of it.

You gasped softly, taking in the scene. You knew Jack was never one to go above and beyond for silly little holidays like Valentine’s Day. He knew you were a sap for celebrating anything and everything, so he figured you would like it.

Jack had turned to admire his handiwork, but by the time he turned back to you, tears were streaming down your face as an upside-down smile covered your face. He couldn’t help but laugh at your reaction.

“You aren’t supposed to cry!” He exclaimed in between short laughs.

You sniffled, “I know! But how can I not?”

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, bringing you into a tight hug as he swayed you softly, your dramatic cries turning into laughs once you got over the initial shock.

“Thank you, Jack. I love it.”

He placed a soft kiss atop your head, “Anything for you, sweet girl.”

Heartbreak is one thing

My egos another

Jack stormed into your apartment, startling you from your place on the couch. You had forgotten you gave him a spare key.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You asked, immediately standing up once you saw the look on his face.

His eyes were red, as well as the rest of his face. “Shoulder.” Was the only word he was able to get out before tears of frustration began spilling from his face.

You had never seen Jack this vulnerable, so you had no idea what to do. You guided him to the couch, gently pulling him into your arms.

He eventually calmed down, taking a few deep breaths. You didn’t give him the chance to speak before you chirped in. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

“Talked to the PT guy. I’m out for the season.” He explained, his voice trembling.

You let out a sympathetic sigh, “I’m so sorry, Jack.”

He shook his head, “No. I should’ve listened to you when you told me to rest it. But my dumbass ego decided to ignore you. And now look what it got me.”

“Hey. This is in no way your fault. Could you have rested? Yes. But, if the trainers didn’t believe you were fine enough you wouldn’t even have had the choice to pick.” You placed your hand on his non-injured shoulder, “You picked your team. You picked the game that you love. You went all the way until it stopped you and that is not your fault.”

Taking a minute to process your words, Jack blinked, his eyes never leaving yours. He opted to not respond, instead just leaned his body into you, wanting to be held.

“I’ve got you, my love. No matter what you have to do or how long it takes, I’m here for you every step of the way.”

“Thank you.” Was the last thing he mumbled before settling in the warmth of your chest, pushing you back onto the couch so the two of you could sleep.

I beg you don't embarrass me

Mother fucker ohhh

Please please please

“All right. Big impression number two.” Jack joked, trying to ease your nerves.

He had met your parents. Now it was time for you to meet his grandparents. You had already met Jim and Ellen, but somehow meeting their parents seemed a lot more intimidating.

Jack noticed your eyes trained on the floor, so he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, causing your gaze to shift to him.

“They’ll love you. I’ve told them how helpful you’ve been throughout this whole thing and they said they can’t wait to meet you. Just relax.” He explained, his words calming you just a bit.

One knock from the door was all it took before Ellen opened the door, immediately pulling you in for a hug. “Hi! How are you?”

You laughed at her joyful reaction, “I’m doing great, you?”

She let out a sigh, “Jim’s mother is driving me nuts. I swear, you can’t cook one meal without that woman getting involved. I love her but, jeez.” She turned her attention to her second son, “How are you, Jack? How’s the shoulder?”

“It’s getting there. As for your Nana problem, I’m sure Y/N could be a good mediator,” Jack suggested, sending you a wink as you turned to look back at him with wide eyes.

Ellen gasped, “Oh you’re right! Would you mind, Y/N?”

You hesitated, “Um. Sure, why not?”

Jack’s mom pulled you by the hand into the kitchen, Jack’s laughter fading behind you as he stepped into the warmth of the house, shutting the door behind him.

If you wanna go and be stupid

Don't do it in front of me

If you don't wanna cry to my music

Don't make me hate you prolifically

Please x9

“Goddamn it, Jack.” You mumbled to yourself, seeing his sling on the kitchen bar with a sticky note with ‘sorry! <3” on it in rushed handwriting.

He had told you he was just going to go watch his Dad and brothers golf but had a change of plans. You sighed and pulled out your phone, taking a picture of the scene in front of you and sending it to Jack.

y/n

Seriously?

jack

Whoops

You let out a grumble at his response, grabbing the sling and the keys to the golf cart before driving up to the country club.

After a few circles around the holes, you spotted Jack and his family. You stepped on the pedal, rushing to get up before Jack had a go.

“Alright, Jacky. Your go.” Quinn stated, sitting in the golf cart, ready to observe his brother’s swing.

Unfortunately for Jack, you were faster. “Jack Rowden Hughes!”

The Hughes’ men’s eyes widened at the sound of your voice, especially Jack’s. They all turned around to look at you, a look in your eyes that could only be described as crazy.

You stomped over to Jack, ignoring the rest of the guys. You shoved the sling into his chest, crossing your arms immediately after.

“Jack, you can’t be golfing right now! The doctor said you have two more weeks with that thing!” You exclaimed.

Quinn spoke up, “Two weeks? Rowdy, you told us your doctor cleared you.”

Jack let out a sigh as his cover had been blown, “Just wanted to golf.” He mumbled.

You scoffed, “I’ve worked my ass off for you and this is what you do? I’ve taken care of your meds, when you’re supposed to take them, washing that thing for you because you couldn’t. Doing all the work around your house so that you wouldn’t have to and Luke could focus on finishing his rookie year, and this is what you do?”

Everyone was silent as you scolded Jack, knowing fully well you were right. You had picked up the slack around his and Luke’s shared apartment throughout his recovery, and the fact that he wanted to disregard all of that for a game of golf was disrespectful.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath, “I just wanted to get out here before summer’s over and Quinn leaves for Vancouver and Luke and I for Jersey. All I wanted was a normal summer, leave my injury at the door, you know?”

You gave him a soft smile, “I get that, but Jack. You’re almost at the point where you can do all of this, without having to worry about anything else. You’ve worked so hard and sacrificed so many things for this, don’t throw it away for something you can do in two weeks.”

“She’s right, son.” Jim spoke, “We know you love golfing, but you love hockey just as much. Don’t ruin the progress you’ve made, all right?”

Jack nodded, “Yeah. Thanks, Dad.” He shifted his attention back to you. “Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Probably light yourself on fire.” Luke chirped, gaining a laugh from all of you.

You pulled Jack into a hug, taking his hand and guiding him to sit next to his brother.

#nhl hockey #nhl #new jersey devils #jh86 #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #nj devils #jack hughes x you #jo's september series

382 notes · View notes

mashiraostail · 4 months

Note

can u write some soft cuddling hc for the main party?

aw (does have some minor spoilers for the game!)

Shadowheart: Doesn't really mind the position you're in but will certainly like to be able to hold hands, even just laying side by side, shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand. She'd also like to see your face, and be able to kiss you. She not a quiet cuddler either, she likes to chat about nothing in particular, how dinner was, the strange hairstyle you'd seen someone in the city sporting, asking questions about your life pre tadpole and so on. Just gets softer post nightsong if she goes against Shar. I think she'll really enjoy having something in someone for once, she's spent her whole life not really knowing or having much of anything so she'll really revel in you. She'll want to touch your face, hold your hands, smell you and just be as close as possible.

Astarion: He's snarky and all but once he's warmed up I think he'll really enjoy a bit of a snuggle. He's not picky at all either, he'll enjoy tucking you into his chest, resting his chin on your hair, and listening to you breathe. He'll also enjoy laying his head on your chest, feeling you arms come around him and hearing your heart beat under his ear. Enjoys chaste little kisses, peppered along his hairline or neck or wherever you can reach with no intention of anything more. He's not as talkative as Shadowheart, in fact he probably won't say much at all unless you do. It's not that he doesn't want to talk he just...is enjoy you, your beating heart, the feeling of your hands on his back, the warmth of you. He'll forget to say anything, and that's fine because his presence will just lull you to sleep. If you do get to chatting he won't mind, in fact you'll probably find he'll deveulge some incredibly tender information at times like these. He's loved cats, always, he isn't sure why, he learned to sew to maintain his clothes from his life, just something to hold onto. Try not to be too snarky with him in these moments, he'll most certainly recoil at it.

Wyll: Dutiful big spoon, he likes to rub your back, or your tummy. Besides Halsin I think Wyll is the most obsessed with your smell, he'll definitely bury his face in your neck and take some comically big whiffs of you. Also most likely to tickle you. He compliments you a lot too, your skin is soft, your hair smells nice, you are just generally lovely, and thank you for allowing me to be so close to you. He loves to listen to you talk too, cuddling is a great time to yap to him about anything. Literally anything. Short bows vs longbows, which one do you like better, why? Recount some fond memories, talk about your favorite food, he's just happy to listen. He likes when you lay against his chest the best though, he loves squeezing you and getting to cast the occasional glance down at you. Chronic forehead kisser too, he'll be leaning in to kiss you mid sentence, he's just delighted to be allowed it.

Halsin: He's soooooooo big spoon shaped and he loves curling around you and tucking you away. He's so warm too so he's the best napping partner. He loves a chest/stomach rub though so you have to indulge him as it would be unkind not to. But don't linger tooo much because Halsin and Karlach are probably most likely to turn cuddling into something a bit....more. He also enjoys being 'little' spoon, having a backpack is funny to him and he'll hold onto your arms wrapped around him to keep you in place. He enjoys it as quiet time, just getting to enjoy the company of someone he loves when there is little time to be afforded to such pleasures. And a pleasure it is, simple and easy and kind there is little in the wold Halsin prefers than spending that time with you. He does enjoy a few quiet, affectionate words shared between you though. Nothing grand or poetic but some soft appreciation for your closeness, the feeling of skin on skin, or a quiet confession of love isn't uncommon.

Karlach: Bear hugger. Major bear hugger. Once she can finally touch you she does not ever want to take her hands off you. She'll wrap her arms and legs around you, kiss you everywhere, and beg you to stay the night with her in her tent. Cuddling becomes a sacred ritual to her, you always end your day in each other's arms talking about anything and everything. In these quiet moments Karlach wonders if her heart really was stolen, because she's never felt more full of love than she does now. She loves to crack jokes and tickle you, hearing your laugh, feeling you turn into her neck or chest, it all puts her on cloud nine. She'll run her fingers through your hair, and possibly start a thumb war.

Gale: Oh boy does he just love to end a day with you. He loves to have you sitting between his legs, your back against his chest while he talks about the whole day as if you weren't there for it all. He may spend the time reading or writing too but he'll always ask you to talk for a bit. Gale loves talking, especially with you and if you entertain him he'll talk until the sun rises. He loves to rest his head in your lap while he talks with you, the feeling of your hands in his hair, your fingers against his scalp, your palm resting on his stomach. Gale struggles to think of anything better after a long day on the road. I think secretly Gale likes this sort of human connection, the skin to skin, studying your eye color and all the shades of your skin. Connecting via the weave isn't unpleasant by any means but something about this sort of connection is new to him. Maybe being with Mystra made him cast it out of his mind, or maybe it had never been any good with any one else... he isn't sure. He is sure that he loves it now, he wants to rest his forehead against yours, he wants to feel your hands in his shirt, against his stomach, he wants to feel the huff of your laughter against his lips and most of all he just wants you however you'll have him.

Lae'zel: She's almost adverse to it at first. Ease into things, sit shoulder to shoulder, rest your head on her arm, let your thighs touch when you sit beside each other. It comes like most of your relationship, with trust and with time. Eventually she'll look forward to you after the day's up. Mostly she just likes to have her arm around you, she likes to slick your hair back off your forehead and pull your head even closer into her. She'll make a mean little quip about Gale or Astarion and you'll laugh and Gods help her it actually lights something up in her chest and all she can think to do is pick her hand up off your shoulder and pull you into her. The first time it happens it actually makes her stomach hurt. She's never been one for the mundane, for a routine, but there she was, chatting with you about nothing while you traced out shapes on the back of her hand. In these moments she could almost see it for herself, whiling away the days with you.

#bauldrs gate 3 x reader #halsin x reader #gale x reader #wyll x reader #shadowheart x reader #lae'zel x reader #astarion x reader

291 notes · View notes

blueiight · 3 months

Text

I want to tell the real story.

In a week's time, in a setting of my choosing, we revisit the project boyish youth prevented us from finishing. Years and thousands of miles removed from the room we shared in San Francisco, I offer, for your journalistic pleasures, my full attention and my life story.

vs.

Props in a play. A play that's been fully designed and rehearsed. And every actor onstage has scripted lines except for us. … Set dressing nailed to the floor.

On one hand, the sham-trial of Louis, Claudia, and Madeleine, is absolutely a mockery of the worst examples of this show’s real-world audience. But in the wider narrative, the trial enriches Louis’s own motivations in 1973 and 2022. Louis wanting to tell the story of his life has an added layer to it simply by the fact that, chronologically, Louis and Claudia, especially Claudia’s, entire lives were made mockeries of on stage first in 1949-1950. The sham-trial is a near-original product of the show, in that what was a straightforward execution in the source material is turned into a public spectacle, where vampires are food to a human audience, and Louis and Claudia are violently silenced as their lives are framed into caricatures of who they were. The rhetoric of two interviews too, are entirely original to the series, but share a common starting point.

Why does Louis, both in 1973 and 2022, choose to begin his life in the year 1910, and not when Louis was a child? Armand opens up his life story with Arun, Lestat tells Paul how he was stolen from the monastery& beaten as a child, Claudia writes in her diaries how her mother died and her father abandoned her to an abusive relative.

It is as much, because Louis truly understands his (and Claudia’s) lives to have restarted with his (their) vampiric turning, as it is the fact that this show-trial takes advantage of Louis’s self-image (and how he relates Claudia in relation to himself) by beginning the story of Louis’s life in 1910, and Claudia’s life in 1917.

Looking at the trial script, and comparing it to the interview in season 1, we see how “the vulnerability within the object” [Louis] is perused. Something to remind is that the sequences I will fixate on are on-script, and therefore, blatantly untrue. The only times we truly go off-script are transparently obvious, even twice-aided with flashbacks, and the only time Louis cedes the narrative to an off-script Lestat only enhance the existing framework of how Louis relates to Claudia.

[SANTIAGO] The accused was a troubled man. A failed sugar farmer, a brothel-keeper.

[LESTAT] Forced into corners by his race, alienated from his own desires. American puritanism mangling his very soul.

[SANTIAGO] Disreputable, cold, violent.

[LESTAT] Louis first accosted me in a pleasure house, and then everywhere I went, as if by happy accident, there was Louis, offering to be my chaperone, his eyes sliding down me. I… a vampire, was being hunted. With every breath, every heartbeat, every sidelong glance, Louis was saying, "Come to me".

In contrast to the scripted debate over Louis’s life, how does Louis relate this aspect of himself to Daniel? Almost as if he’s defending himself, but from who? Daniel who is already familiar with this? The audience of a book in its infancy? Or…The man in the room who pinpointed at the “vulnerability within the object?”.

I was, admittedly, a rougher thing then. You had to be if you wanted to survive. You couldn't look weak on Liberty Street. [ … ] Did I want to pull a knife on my brother? No. But as I alluded to before, you couldn't look weak on Liberty. You never knew who was watching.

I couldn't move. My body was seized with weakness. His gaze tied a string around my lungs, and I found myself immobilized. […] Let the tale seduce you. Just as I was seduced. […] It was a cold winter that year, and Lestat was my coal fire. And I found myself, for the very first time, to anyone other than Paul, confiding my struggles to another man. I was being hunted. And I was completely unaware it was happening.

Here’s Louis on his own race here, Lestat is the one who accosted Louis at the Fair Play Salloon.

Segwaying: This trial is not “Lestat’s point of view”, this is Lestat playing a marionette on stage to revenge himself. His revenge evolves live-on-stage into an attempt to go off-script to save Louis, and only Louis. Lestat breaks script in almost S1 fashion to berate Louis for his reticience to admit his desire, where he admits to making Claudia for Louis, and admits where he broke Louis. [Lestat says the singular “pup”, not “pups”, and this is when Claudia realizes that Lestat did not come for her.] Even bragging about Claudia being the pinnacle of his vampiric self is on-script.

This is Armand, aware of the optics of the kind of men Louis had to wrestle his own legacy from in two lifetimes, creating this script to break & re-shape Louis. “I felt like we were the only two vampires left in the world.” Armand orchestrates this so Claudia & Louis can forever be severed when trying to break Claudia into mad suicide through “My Baby Loves Windows” failed, and Louis still thinks of her even after he turned Madeleine, and Louis can channel his vengeance over his own torture & Claudia’s wrongful death to the coven. What did Armand say in E12… “Don’t you/we have enough to fear from Paris?” Anyways…

If Louis is framed as both the desperate predator and the frigid reticient lover, how does this sham-trial mock Claudia?

Through her words. We are narratively introduced to Claudia’s diaries in Dubai during Episode 4 with Louis out of the room, Armand, docent still as ‘Rashid’, introducing “an alternative perspective on the years of [this interview]’s interest”. Armand in Episode 13 in an attempt to re-gain control over the interview admits to what he and Louis did and did not cut, but to what end? Louis in Dubai has to ask Armand for the missing pages, pages we have yet to see. And chronologically speaking, through the showman Santiago, Armand was the first and last one to use Claudia’s private words to pilfer her narrative and try to break her.

The framing of Claudia as a mad, permanently infantile defect, but also the artfully manipulative entity able to assess Louis & Lestat’s fragile union pinpoints the assumption Armand makes to Louis & Madeleine both: the near inevitability Armand disregards her and treats her end with, throwing her in an infant’s dress to be a character constantly suiciding itself, and Armand calling her a manipulator in the prior episode.

Claudia’s defect caught up to her.

She harmed herself in the sun for attention and followed that up with a killing spree, corpses clogging the bayou, a penchant for human souvenirs.

And what does Louis offer us, in Dubai?

Louis can easily revenge and reclaim his own legacy through the interview, but how can Louis hope to re-pay the smearing and murder of Claudia? Through re-contextualizing the same words she wanted no one but Madeleine to read? “You can put the diaries in their proper context,” he once said. He can never be the one to truly salvage Claudia’s self, which is why the diaries cut out when Claudia finally felt fulfilled, and her last words are kept from our ears. An explanation, to who Claudia once was as a vampire, from Claudia’s own pen, without her will, just as she was turned.

It is through her diaries and Louis’s recollection of her that we realize her trophy-seeking was an evolving project. The boys she killed in New Orleans were her attempt at creating her own vampire companion, only to realize that she cannot create companions of her own bc of the same body she was trapped in, through no will of her own. There is something fascinating about “who” & “when” can make vampires, but that’s another post.

The “artful predator assessing the cracks in [Louis& Lestat’s] union” is in fact, Claudia returning to familiar captivity after being kidnapped and raped repeatedly. What’s interesting is that TdV does not have or launder the pages of the immediate aftermath of her rape, which suggests that Claudia herself tore those pages out [& certainly matches the damage], as ripe predators would see fit to find fault in Claudia for being assaulted.

The showboaters of TdV will die next episode, but what of the architect/s of the trial vs. Louis the architect of this interview? What will be done with Claudia’s diaries after this? The end of this interview poses very interesting questions.

#yn.#iwtv #iwtv s2 #louis de pointe du lac #claudia #armand #lestat de lioncourt #santiago #a war of words

204 notes · View notes

ninyard · 4 months

Note

how do you think jean would be post tsc duology with his sexuality with jeremy like i feel like he’s been put into this submissive role at the nest but idk if that was something he enjoyed

Oh you’ve opened a can of worms anon. Here’s a not so short but typically messy, as per usual, look into Jean’s sexuality.

Firstly, I think there are a million different nuances and anomaly’s and sides to Jean’s sexuality. Jean Moreau: whose first girlfriend was a plane ticket to the United States. We don’t know much about his childhood, but we can only imagine it wasn’t pleasant; If he’s anything like Neil, did he date at all as a kid/young teen?

So - let’s picture it. We’re a little while into Jean’s time with the Trojans, we're a little while into Jean and Jeremy figuring each other out, and the sex conversations comes up.

Now, personally, I don't believe that Jean's response to his trauma is anything like Andrew's - we've seen he doesn't seem to have an issue being touched, and nor does he seem to have an issue with sexuality in general. But things that I believe he does have a problem with?

His sexuality, and knowing what he wants vs what he believes is expected of him.

I think Jean has an incredible amount of shame around his interest in men. Most of it having been beaten into him, instilled by Riko into him. I think his gut response to pull away and reject advances and pretend his interest in men doesn't exist comes mostly from that, or from hearing Kevin say to him that it was far too difficult a life to be the child of a legacy and interested in men. How the public would react, how professional exy teams and the media would respond; it's always easier to be heterosexual. It always has been.

The first hurdle Jean has to jump over is that; allowing himself to desire men, to feel like that is okay, to feel like he deserves the way that Jeremy looks at him. The Trojans help, far more than they even know. Cat and Laila help. All of the queer couples and out-and-proud folks on the team help. Immeasurably. It normalises it for him, and he sees how safe they are, how unpunished they are, and whether its subconscious or not, being around them all really helps destroy his bone-deep shame. But he gets past it. At some stage he admits that his sexuality is unimportant to him, as it truly is, but he feels comfortable enough say well, yes, his attraction does also extend to men. It will never be more important that Exy. But it exists. It just eventually becomes a far smaller deal to him that it had originally been.

Skip some time, some awkward and painful conversations, and Jean and Jeremy are together. How that happens, I don't know - do they hook up first? Do they date for a while before they get there? But, when they get there, there comes this point a handful of times in where Jeremy realises he has been leading their encounters a whole lot more than Jean is. In fact, when he thinks about it, as comfortable as Jean insists that he is, he is not in control at all. He follows Jeremy's lead. Jeremy thinks about Kevin's awkward comment the day he was asked to sign Jean.

"Tell me what you want." Jeremy says, having thought too much about it, having wondered if he was imagining things.

"You," Jean responds, maybe. "That is all."

Jeremy sits back and he looks at him, and Jean looks back with that gorgeous and confused look draped across his pale complexion. Somehow they talk for a little while, and find themselves at the point:

Is this how you actually want to have sex, or is it just how you think I want you to have sex?

And Jean doesn't know. It's the question that sends him spiralling, because he hasn't even realised it. He hasn't noticed how he is simply complacent, uninvested in his own desires and pleasure in order to keep Jeremy happy. It's not that he doesn't get pleasure from it, of course he does, but he will not take a step out of line if Jeremy is happy. I think he might have to stop for a while, stepping back from sex while he tries to understand his relationship with sex itself. He's too used to being used and having expectations put on him that he knows no different. He doesn't know what he likes. He doesn't know if he prefers to top or bottom, to be submissive or dominant, or any other thing like that; it's a no-mans land that he's spent far too long people-pleasing in that he's forgotten that he's allowed to enjoy it as well. So I think that takes a lot of time and unlearning to see his own pleasure as something worthy of investigating.

Jeremy is patient, of course, and while he sees how much of a "step back" Jean has taken in terms of being okay with sex, it's worth it; sure, Jean never much had a problem with it, and maybe bringing it up caused a problem, but it sparks that thought in Jean's brain. That curiosity about whether or not the role that he plays during sex has been built by the nest, or if it's what he genuinely likes to do. As I say, it takes a lot of unlearning for Jean. A lot of unpacking of what happened to him, and a lot of really, really hard conversations.

His body is his own, and he knows that now. It does not belong to Jeremy. Again, not that Jeremy thinks so either, to be very clear. He knows Jeremy doesn't think so. Not one bit. But he has to understand that himself. He doesn't have to read Jeremy's micro expressions to figure out what he wants him to do, he doesn't have to just keep him happy. Intimacy can only exist in an environment where it is reciprocated. And while he cares deeply for Jeremy, if he is ignoring his own desires in order to maintain peace, he is not being genuine. He is simply submitting because that's the only option he's known. That's the only choice he's ever had.

I think Jean loves sex - I think Jean really, really enjoys having sex with Jeremy. I just think it's also evident quite quickly that he isn't even thinking about how he affords Jeremy all of the control in every scenario. Jean is submissive because that's all he knows. And I feel like it takes a while and a lot of talking for him to leave that habit behind and freely, unashamedly, fuck without expectation for him to be a certain way or act a certain way. That doesn't mean he has to be a top or a bottom. It does mean that he has to stop himself from studying every twitch and tell on Jeremy's face to try understand completely what the Captain expects of him.

#i don't know at all if this has conveyed the point i'm trying to make.#so once again apologies if this makes no sense at all #jean moreau #jeremy knox #aftg #tfc #the foxhole court #all for the game #tsc #the sunshine court #ask

236 notes · View notes

little-miss-dilf-lover · 6 months

Note

heyy! im so happy you opened your requests, i was waiting for that 🙈 can u pleeease write some matty smut? whatever plot u want, just do your magic i looove him in your words, and also i already read all in your masterlist lol

thats it, sooo happy ur back, love your blog sooo much 💐💐

hii lovely!! omg you’re so so sweet!!?? you’re such a doll, thank you so much☹️ thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

DAREDEVIL VS MATT MURDOCK.

matt murdock x fem!reader — smut

word count. 292 sorry it’s small

warnings. 18+ only! sexually explicit content minors dni.

thinking about the difference of being intimate with daredevil vs with matt

when matt is in the mind and body of daredevil, sex is an exchange. an almost soul-less trade - transaction. he's often far too consumed by his adrenaline rush from the hours of his nightly patrols to even consider your wants. the only clear, comprehensive thought in his mind being the imminent need for his release.

his needs selfishly pushed ahead without the consideration of yours. just him ruthlessly bullying his cock into you from behind, his pace almost relentless. never once letting you catch your breath as his hips erratically smash up against your ass. ignoring your spluttered, broken cries into the mattress.

he wants to feel in control. like he's finally in charge again after a night of being pushed and shoved and beaten - he needs that control.

and you'd be lying there, like his obedient little love, allowing him to release all frustrations.

but sex with matt murdock is anything but. he's everything he's not when he's in the suit. he's considerate, loving - careful. he asks if it feels good, not because it's something he wants to hear for his own selfish gain, but instead to check you're okay. the questions he asks are often the same he asks you when he's in the suit, only now they hold different intentions.

with daredevil, it's about him, but not when it's with matt. he takes the time to ensure your pleasure, to make sure you feel good - all of his own needs kindly pushed aside.

the roll of his hips slow and steady with him hovering atop of you - every thrust made with thought and care. his hands in your hair, lips on your neck, all of it that much more intimate than his suited counterpart.

had this in a doc for a while and had no use for it until now. istg if the tags mess up again, I will lose it 😁

#💐#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock drabble #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil smut

222 notes · View notes

hyunsvngs · 1 year

Note

question: on a spectrum… who in skz would be rlly turned on by someone who creams vs someone who squirts? imo, felix falls in the middle nd is just glad his partner came 🙏

ooh okay i LIKE this. while i don’t think they would mind so long as their partner enjoyed, HERE IS WHAT I THINK IS THEIR PREFERENCE..

creams:

minho - listen. i know we designated minho in squirtracha, but i strongly believe he would prefer if his partner creamed on his cock. like. imagine him saying “good little kitty, creaming so nice for me.” that’s SO minho. he’d love the way it made the slide into you just a bit slicker, and he’d definitely love watching you whine and squirm before you cream around him.

hyunjin - honestly this is so hyune. a partner who creams all in his mouth so he can lick it up like a fucking ice cream? that’s hyunjin. he’d want to pin you down til you’re creaming in his mouth all fucking night. especially if you leak a bit when you cum… he’s going feral for that, getting it all over his plump lips and kissing you so you can taste it.

seungmin - honestly i struggled on where to put seungmin, but i think he’d prefer creaming overall. he’s not the biggest fan of mess so i think a controlled orgasm would be more his style, though he’d probably highkey get off on you squirting. he’d love if you creamed around his cock so much to the point where his cock has a white ring around the base, showing your pleasure - he’d definitely get you to suck it clean afterwards. “you made the mess, pup, just from feeling so good. you can clean it up, right?” UGH

squirts:

JISUNG - do i even need to explain. BIGGEST SQUIRT KINK. LOVES MESS. wants to pin you down and make you squirt over and over. god it’d make him whine so loud if you squirted and then he slid his cock into your slick hole, feeling your walls still fluttering and the juices all around him… he’d definitely be babbling. “s-shit, baby, my baby, ‘s so wet-“ i need him

chan - sensual, passionate, hard sex is chan all over. if you squirt for him? he’s cumming ON THE SPOT. chan has a massive kink for it all being super wet and messy too, and i think if you squirted on his cock he’d literally have to pull out to calm down because he’d cum too soon. he’d LOVE to drink up your squirt and spit it back in your mouth while he fucks you, calling you such a good girl for daddy.

jeongin - oh jeongin has a big squirt kink ik it. hes got those LONG fingers practically designed to curve against your gspot nice and hard, making you quiver and shake around him. i talked about this briefly before but i think jeongin would think squirting was a straight up lie until you did it on his fingers and then he’d short circuit. he’d want to make you do it ALL THE TIME. like, he made you do that??? he made you make a mess like that?? he’s dead of horny disease

literally loves either:

felix - oh felix loves EVERYTHING. squirt, cream, even a dry orgasm. just the sign that you’re having fun with him? he’s gonna cum. he’s so into you that whatever form your orgasm takes, he’s tasting it fr. he loves everything you do and that carries over into the bedroom.

binnie - binnie’s whipped. i think if you squirted OR creamed he’d probably have a heart attack anyway that you came. he’d be so happy. i do think maybe he’d lean towards the creaming side, just because imagine his pubes soaked with your cream 😵‍💫 he’d LOVE it. but i think he’d love everything you do <3

♡ juno

#juno’s asks ♡#stray kids smut #asks: ot8 #sweet baby anon

582 notes · View notes

stanfanfiction · 1 year

Text

Taste of You - Ken x fem!reader - PART FOUR

Alrighty. Going to try bringing the reader’s history more into this one. There’s still a lotta hot going on but this one is more somber with some fluff and feelings and I really hope you like it <3

Thank you to @dogboytim for suggesting Ken helping the reader deal with self esteem/body issues. So definitely a TW for that.

I’ve also been dealing with some emotional shit in my own life and I think I kind used this as a catharsis for myself so….I hope it’s an okay read 🙈

Masterlist for previous parts

Warnings: 18+ ONLY / dealing with past trauma / panic attacks / body dysmorphia / domestic abuse (mentioned as a theme, nothing specific other than leading into the readers self esteem struggles) / horny Ken / caretaking Ken / fluff / feelings / Ken finally gets out of the house / soft sex / oral (fem!receiving) / stubborn Ken / bathroom sex / ptsd / some kinda con-non-con (but reader likes it so it is technically all consensual) / making love vs having sex… (you’ll see)

You squealed as Ken’s fingers entered you swiftly. Apparently you hadn’t been giving him enough attention this morning, *again,* and you were definitely starting to see a pattern forming here. You sat opened legged on your bathroom counter where Ken had placed you moments earlier while you were only trying to brush your hair and get dressed before you found yourself leaning back against the mirror over the sink and pulling his hair.

“I *HATE* class days,” he seethed as his mouth went to attack your clit and you gasped but smiled as you threw your head back. You hadn’t told him that right before he came into the bathroom deciding to be needy once again that you had just received an email that your class had been cancelled for the day, but you decided it didn’t hurt to not tell him for the next few minutes.

“Hmm…ahh…Ken is so needy again.”

Ken’s eyes stared at you as if being challenged and he used his free hand to open up your vulva lips and plant his tongue firmly against you, moving up from your opening slowly. You bucked a little and Ken removed his fingers from your core to place that hand on across your hips, holding you down for him as he began to tongue fuck you.

“Won’t let you leave,” he mumbled, his mouth pressed into you.

You laughed again. “Greedy boy. My class got cancelled today,” you breathed.

Ken paused for a moment to smile, then went back to pleasuring you but less from a place of frustration now as he began going a little slower, loving how you always squirmed when his touch was just a little too slow and your body craved more.

Your cell phone ringtone made you both startle, and you immediately began working to control your breathing when you saw the number.

“Ken, I have to get this,” you said, picking it up to answer it. Ken stopped what he was doing but remained kneeling in front of you, hands gently massaging your thighs. He leaned his cheek into one of your knees and smiled contentedly, pressing a kiss into it.

“Hi, Professor.”

Ken’s face fell.

“Hi, Miss Y/L/N. Sorry I wasn’t able to reply to your email, my Wifi has been dodgy all week.”

“No worries,” you said, noticing Ken’s scowl and trying not to giggle. You ran your fingers through his hair softly and that seemed to calm him down.

“But in answer to your email, unfortunately my plane back has been delayed so I’m not able to meet in-person, but I’m more than happy to answer any questions over the phone if now works for you.”

Ken shook his head.

“Yes! That would be great, thank you. Let me just grab the assignment really quick.” You wrinkled your nose at Ken and attempted to get off the counter but Ken held both of your legs tightly, not letting you go.

“Ken!” You scolded him silently. “I NEED to get my book bag.”

Ken gave you a playful look and stood. “Stay,” he said quietly. He left and within seconds he was back with your bag. You dug the out sample assignment you had been giving in class and smiled a thank you to him.

“Okay, so my first question was about -“ you could have committed a murder right then. Ken had pulled you forward to where you were almost hanging off the counter and dug his lips into your wetness.

“Ah, sorry,” ohhh you were definitely going to kill him, as you stressed over how there was probably no way your voice sounded normal right now no matter how hard you were tying. “Just finding the page.”

“Of course, take your time.”

“Stop it, stop IT,” you almost hissed, pulling the phone away from your ear just long enough to get your words out. Ken’s eyes met yours and your heart jumped. Ohh fuck fuck fuucckkk you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what he was feeling then, but it definitely wasn’t going to make your phone call any easier.

You kept your eyes glued to his while trying to ask your question, glancing at the paper in your hand every couple moments to make sure your stressed-out brain was remembering how to speak correctly. Ken just stared back at you, waiting, and somehow that tension was worse than if he was fucking you right now because you didn’t know when he was going to strike.

Your professor began answering your question, and you rummaged with your hand in your bag to find a pin to mark on the mock-up assignment when Ken shoved his tongue into your opening, and you could have lunged at him. He smirked.

“This isn’t a game,” you whispered down at him, trying to hold focus enough to write down what you needed to.

His eyes bored into yours. “Oh, I disagree,” they said, twinkling, and he began firmly licking you in circles. You had begun to read his mind simply by how expressive his eyes were, and you felt like you were having a full conversation with them right now.

Your hand shook a little and you cursed internally not being able to write at this moment. You pushed at Ken’s shoulder with your foot but of course he was built like a wall and didn’t budge. He grinned for a second and you caught yourself grinning back in an irritating mixture of frustration but also…. fun? And you hated that you were having fun.

“I’m a professional student,” you kept thinking to yourself on repeat.

“Did that answer what you were asking?” Your professor’s words didn’t register until a few seconds after they were spoken.

“Oh! Yes, it did, thank you so much.”

“Of course. Anything else you need to go over?”

You eyed Ken and wanted to get your answers but also knew it just wasn’t worth it at this point and you would have to talk to your professor after class next week.

“No, that was it. I really appreciate you getting back to me.”

You had NO idea what his reply was as Ken stood up and wrapped your legs around his waist, reaching underneath your butt, but you were able to register your professor saying to have a good day.

“You too, thank you!” You managed to get out before Ken took the phone, hung it up, and tossed it aside as he easily picked you up and carried you over to the wall.

“FUCKING hell, Ken,” you let out. “You cannot do that.”

“Hmmm.” He smirked. You wanted to both slap that smugness off of his face but also kiss him hungrily.

“I’ve got to put you in your place,” you lamented as you became trapped between the wall and Ken holding you up.

“But I *am* in my place,” Ken replied simply, knowing he was egging you on, and solidifying his point by sinking his cock into you.

“I *mean* it - ahhhhhh…” Your mind went blank as your legs held on for dear life around his waist while he fucked up into you sharply.

You both lay panting on the bed, coming down from your highs. Ken held you like usual, butterfly kissing your face while you came back to reality. Your head was swimming from the sex but also from realizing you needed to get Ken interested in something other than you, and fast. He had come into your life right after midterms, and you realized now how much of a blessing that was because you couldn’t fathom how on earth you would get through finals this way.

You petted his cheek. “Ken? Would you like to go on an outing with me today?”

He sat up a little, curious.

“I have been meaning to go to the library anyways, and you could come see my campus with me.”

“I thought you said only students were allowed there.”

“Well, only students can be in the classroom. You are able to come with me to the campus, though.”

Ken smiled, and your heart ached a little at realizing how much you really hadn’t been thinking of how he would probably love going out with you, he just didn’t seem to have the motivation to explore on his own, at least not since you had known him. You thanked yourself for remembering to get him a normal, not open-to-the-hips shirt the other day so he had something to wear, and before long you were both on the bus headed to your school.

The bus was a FASCINATING experience for Ken. You watched in entertained awe at him as he acted like an excited puppy. He pointed out cool buildings and places he wanted to visit to you every few seconds, commented on the unattractive interior design of the bus, and was reaching up to pull the emergency break alert rope when you grabbed his arm top stop him just in time.

His excitement never waned but he had moments of quiet, too, and he held your hand in both of his as he stared out the window. You leaned your head against the seat and studied him.

Who *was* this man, exactly? You never questioned his explanation that he was a literal doll come into your world, and now you wondered why that hadn’t felt difficult to believe. You knew the last couple weeks had been utter chaos on a number of levels, and you realized how much you had actually been needing someone to come in and turn everything into something wonderful for you. That definitely explained your lack of attempting to learn about him, what he was searching for, what he desired and wanted out of life.

You felt melancholy then, watching as Ken pointed to a dog out of the window and turned, smiling at you, making sure you saw it. You smiled back and nodded, and he turned his attention back to the outside world, never letting loose of your hand.

Your heart hurt now. This wasn’t something that could last forever, was it? Or…maybe? You didn’t know anything that was happening, other than in your little condo that you paid for with your inheritance, that life had become a little bubble of a world the two of you had created, something from a fantasy, and you missed it when you weren’t there. When you walked in the door, Ken was always waiting for you, and your little house felt like a home. You decided you needed to start trying to look at things a little more realistically, learn to actually know Ken, see if maybe this whole thing had a futur-

You cut off the thought before it felt too soothing, not wanting to get your hopes up. You sniffed softly and quickly wiped at a tear that you hadn’t expected to form, not wanting Ken to see. You just wanted to focus on enjoying today with him.

Getting off the bus was its own new adventure, as Ken looked around the campus. “Where are your classes? Do you have a favorite classroom? Do you have a favorite study place? Is there somewhere you like to meet with your friends?”

His questions hit you hard, and you hated how oddly sad you felt today. Everything he was asking was less about general curiosity and only meant to better understand YOU and your life and how you existed in it when he wasn’t around.

You two made your way to the library where you found the book you needed and also check-out a book Ken had been absorbed in about horses. You knew you’d have to ask him to explain that one someday.

You were strolling slowly back to the bus stop when you noticed a really nice grassy area shaded by a huge tree, and suggested you both sit there for awhile. Ken happily complied, and you opened your new book to start going over it. Ken snuggled up next to you and would every few minutes ask about something in the book that he didn’t understand as he read over your shoulder, and this was honestly a really easy way to study for your exams, you decided.

Suddenly he felt your body go rigid. Ken noticed and followed your eyesight to see a man staring at you, dark eyes filled with anger. His body stance was tight, one hand in a fist. He looked the personification of pure rage. You felt paralyzed.

“Who is that?”

You worked to answer as you exhaled. “My ex.”

Your ex. He really didn’t know anything about your ex, but he fought like hell to destroy the dagger of jealousy that pierced his heart just then. He realized that was out of place and definitively not called for, especially in this moment, but he couldn’t help it, now thinking of how someone else besides him had been with you in the same way he was with you now, and he loathed the images that flooded his mind.

He leaned down to your ear. “Is that the reason you were crying the other day?”

Unable to verbally reply, tears stung your eyes as your breaths became shaky, although you were working desperately to control your outward appearance. You refused to look wounded in front of him.

That was plenty of confirmation for Ken and he wrapped his arm around you protectively. “What do you need me to do?”

“Help me get out of here,” your words barely a whisper as he helped you to your feet swiftly and grabbed the books. You tried to look away but were held captive by the gaze of the man standing across the courtyard from you.

Ken wasn’t sure what hit him then, but he suddenly felt outraged. He handed the books to you. “I’ll be right back,” he seethed, jaw tight.

You snapped back into reality just in time as Ken began swift, long strides over to the man, who look pleased at the attention he was receiving, and smirked in your direction. You jumped forward and gripped Ken’s arm.

“No, no, no, no, Ken, we have to leave.”

He paused and turned back to you because of the panic in your voice.

“He’s just trying to start a fight. I need to go.”

“He hurt you,” Ken bit out.

“Which is why we need to go. He’s angering you on purpose to hurt me again.”

Ken glanced back over his shoulder at the man who pulled his hand out of his fraternity jacket and waved mockingly. Ken huffed but hated how you were pleading with him, so he turned away and you both began walking briskly out of his sight.

You both remained quiet on the way home other than Ken asking if there was anything he could do a couple of times. You bit at your nails restlessly until the bus stopped at your exit station and you took Ken’s hand and hurried off back to your condo. You didn’t feel safe until you were back inside your home with the front door double locked.

You had kept your gaze on the floor the whole journey home, and Ken gently placed his hands on your arms, leading you to sit down on the sofa as he kneeled in front of you and took your hands in his.

“What did he do?” His voice sounded shaky, as if afraid of hearing the answers.

You felt fairly certain Ken didn’t know about certain forms of violence that happened between couples. From what he had told you about Barbieland, that idea had never been considered.

“So many things,” you were still trying to hold back tears. “So, so many things.”

“Tell me.”

You looked up from the ground to get lost in Ken’s blue eyes filled with concern and wanting nothing more than to understand so he knew how to help. The thought that telling him about what had happened and how that fresh new understanding of reality would probably break him just to process felt so cruel, and fuck, you didn’t want to lose the one innocent aspect you had had in your life. You broke out into sobs, trying to hide your face and Ken let you, your hands hiding your eyes as Ken wrapped his arms around your legs and placed his chin on your knee, waiting patiently.

“What is it you’re so scared to tell me?” He asked when your sobs became less loud.

How could you answer this without actually answering this…

“Sometimes, when people are in relationships, they can do really horrible things to their partners. They can hurt them really badly, in ways that sometimes never fully heal. That pain,” you grasped at your chest were you heart was, “it can just sort of stay, and sometimes you only have so much control over how much or how often it can hurt you again.” You began crying harder again, and Ken slowly got up and sat next to you, softly cradling you in his arms. You were thankful for the warmth and cried into his chest as he just held you like that until you were ready to say more. He wanted to know every detail of what you had gone through but also knew not to push it and wanted to respect the boundary you were holding with him. He worked to keep his body language soft and protective while fuming inside.

“Sometimes, though,” your voice was a little hoarse from all the crying, “people are able to find other people who help them. Who make them feel safe. Who are kind and gentle and who you know would never intentionally harm you.” You placed a hand on his chest next to your head, and his anger felt like it was seeping through his veins like the lava from a volcano as it erupted, filling every inch of him.

He had never felt this way before. You felt his muscles clench around you, but not tightening on you so as not to hurt you.

“What is it, Ken?”

“I feel angry,” he got out, jaw clenched again.

You nodded sadly. “Yeah. Me, too.”

He breathed in sharply. “How do I make sure he will never do it again?”

“I got a restraining order awhile back. That’s why he wasn’t able to walk over to us and was instead trying to get you to come to him instead. He tries to find new ways to scare me without getting in trouble legally anymore. He went for you hoping you would fall for it, to send me an extra message, that he is still capable to hurt anything I love.”

Ken felt his throat go dry. He wanted nothing more now than you follow up on those last few words, but now wasn’t the time to validate anything for himself. He needed to keep focused on caring for you.

“I will take care of you, y/n. I’m protect you. I promise.”

You felt his words vibrate through his chest right into your ear and felt his chin rest on the crown of your head.

“I will always be here.”

You smiled the tiniest smile and leaned into him more. “I know.”

Ken swelled with happiness, his anxiety calming down a little bit. You pulled back and Ken lifted your legs to rest over his lap, arms keeping their place around you.

“Days like today,” you said, “they have become less about physical danger to me. It’s all about hear,” you placed one of Ken’s hands gently on the side of your head. “It’s the memories that still hurt, and he works to bring them back.”

“How can I help make them go away, at least for now?”

You thought about it, then shook your head. “They’ll fade again, as they always do, for awhile. I think I need to clear my head and shower.”

Ken nodded and helped you stand up. “Do you need me?”

“I think I need just a minute to myself.”

“Okay. I understand.”

You stood on tiptoes to place the tiniest of kisses on the tip of his nose, then slowly began to head towards the bathroom.

Ken came in later when he head the shower faucet turned off, and walked in to check on you. Typically you had to issue being naked as soon as you dried off, but you had wrapped yourself tightly in a towel and he noticed the mirror had a towel over it, too.

You had hoped he wouldn’t walk in and have to explain another leftover stupid fucking thing from your previous relationship.

You tumble over your words to just get it over with, and his eyes grew wider with each passing sentence.

“But…..” he seemed incredulous, almost as if you had made the whole thing up. “You’re so beautiful.” It was stating a fact. There was no argument and he couldn’t comprehend anyone disagreeing.

“Sometimes I feel the opposite. You roughly brushed your hair just to have something to do.

Ken couldn’t believe the raw audacity that someone would harm someone else with words to make them hate how they looked, even for a second. He told you this in so many words, but finished with that even thought he didn’t understand, he did understand that your hurt didn’t hurt less just because he wanted it to.

You looked up at him, holding back tears, suddenly feeling the most intense desire to get lost in this man who genuinely could not process the pain you were in because it seemed so brutal, so cruel, so incredibly ridiculous that anyone would have to bear the weight that you were carrying. You need that, that little wisp that he offered of getting lost in the reality of his mind that knew so little but also someone knew and felt so much.

“Make love to me, Ken.”

It took him a moment to comprehend what you were asking, but he someone instinctively knew what you asked for, and walked over to you, ever so gently taking your face in his hands and leaning down to kiss you.

The kiss was like a spark went off in your head. Ken was gentle, taking your lips in his in tiny movements as if he might break you if he touched you too hard. You moaned to encourage him, wrapping your arms around his neck, and in turn he held you closer to him, his arms now around your back.

He kissed you lovingly and with passion you had never known before, pulling back to stare into your eyes, waiting for you to tell him what you wanted. He had made himself master of your command, and he wanted you to be in charge of everything that happened right now, anything that would make you feel loved the way he hoped you wanted to.

“Take me to the bed?”

Ken picked your wrapped figure up bridal style and did as you asked, laying you down and holding you to him, your faces inches apart on the pillow. You initiated kissing again, and his hand caressed the back of you head, pulling you a little closer. His tongue traced the your bottom lip and you smiled a little and he smiled back.

“What do you need?” He was completely lost in wanting to care for you.

You didn’t reply, not to be rude, but your brain froze up again, not wanting to see your own body be uncovered right now.

Ken reached for the top of the towel, fingers closing around it, waiting for your consent. You shook your head.

“That’s alright,” he soothed, seeing guilt spread across your face. The he had an idea.

“What if you close your eyes, and I undress you under the comforter?”

You contemplated this then nodded, feeling small and mousy. Ken pulled his shirt over his head and then the comforter over both of you as he hovered over you but not putting too much pressure on you.

You closed your eyes as his hand went back for the towel, and as he began pulling it apart, pausing every few seconds to make sure you hadn’t changed your mind, he left tender kisses down your neck and collarbone, sucking softly, and he it felt so good to him when he heard you moan. The towel eventually fell open, lying underneath you, your body bare.

Ken ran his large hand up and down your body, grazing the side of your breast and then down your stomach and hip, your body responding so naturally it was as if he had been created just to touch you. You opened your eyes, relaxing, and saw him watching you, studying your every emotion.

You smiled shyly. “Hi.”

He smiled warmly. “Hi.”

You placed your hands on his chest just to touch him. “You make me feel loved.”

If Ken could have physically melted, he would have in that moment. “That is always my intention.”

You pulled him down to you, consuming his lips, and Ken’s body molded into yours as he somehow fully surrounded you, covered in a little cave of a comforter. You felt like nothing could penetrate the safety he provided for you right now.

You reached towards towards his jeans and unbuttoned them, him raising his hips enough to where you two were able to get them kicked off.

“Need you,” you said, pulling him to you.

He nodded and began to move downwards but you stopped him.

“I just want to feel *you.”

“But…you…I haven’t done anything yet -“

“I’m fine, Ken.” You promised. “I just need to feel you, now.”

He moved back up so your hips lined up perfectly and you opened your legs for him as he dipped his member into your folds. He gasped a little at how wet you already were.

He looked confused. “How..?” He trailed off, then, “I thought I needed to make you wet.”

“You always do.”

Ken breathed in deeply. His feelings for you soared, and he felt like he might be floating a little. He rubbed his tip against your opening and you put your arms around his neck again.

“Show me how much you love me, Ken.”

That was the last confirmation he needed as he dipped his cock into you, making himself keep shallow thrusts as you got used to his size before moving slowly deeper inside of you.

His hands roamed your body, stopping every few inches to tell you how beautiful you were, how majestically you moved, how perfect your noises were. He kissed each part he could reach with hips lips for emphasis, wanting to cover you with his love, and you felt that energy wash over every piece of you that he touched.

You felt beautiful, you felt seen and held and your hands explored Ken’s body at the same time.

You tangled your fingers in the back of his hair as he began to move faster but still maintaining a much slower pace then usual, both of you completely lost in each other for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, you began to feel your climax building, but loved how tenderly Ken was fucking you, and didn’t want it to change.

“Keep going, just like that, Ken. Please.”

His hand gripped your hip as he felt you arch a little, and he knew you were close. He wanted every single thrust to matter, for you to feel what he was hoping you would feel from him. He kept the pace you asked for, only making his movement a little rougher as you eyes begin to close tightly, your hands pulling on his hair now.

“Y/n,” he coaxed. “Please keep your eyes open. I want to see you.”

You did as he asked, and you swear you’d never seen a more beautiful sight then him staring down at you, and you lost it then, the most wonderful wave traveling from your legs all the way up into your chest, warm and tingly and almost healing in how it felt.

Ken followed right after, keeping his eyes on yours as well, so tender and so content, and you held him as he collapsed on top of you, his face buried in your neck as you both panted.

Ken almost cried as he engulfed you with his arms when he heard your next words, breathy but firm.

“I love you, too, Ken.”

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter