#or reblogs away from the dashboard | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dollfacefantasy · 1 year ago

Text

Restless Dreams

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon gets home late after another hard day at work to you having some extra sweet dreams.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, fingering, somnophilia, wet dream

word count: 3.6k

a/n: hey everyone!! hope you all enjoy this :) i guess i've been into soft leon with somno lately idk LOL. i was kind of tired myself when writing/editing this, so forgive any errors pretty please. new divider from here. thank you for any comments and reblogs <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus

“So what time do you think you’re gonna get here?” you ask before blowing on the drying polish that coats your nails.

“My shift finishes up at 12, and then I gotta file some reports. I’ll probably be done at 1, so not too long after that,” Leon explains through the phone. Despite his attempt to lay it out for you, there’s still a pause, one he came to recognize as your reaction of displeasure. A smile plays on his lips. “But you know the real answer is as soon as I can.”

You look down at your phone on your vanity, a pout forming on your face. Obviously, it wasn’t his fault he had to work so much now. He’d warned you when he started at the police station a few months ago, but it didn’t prepare you for how much you’d miss him.

It made you feel dumb, that nagging, achy feeling of longing in your chest. It wasn’t like he was off to war or something. You still saw him almost everyday. But more and more of his time was consumed by work now. Even when he was with you, he was often exhausted.

Sometimes all you could think about his new job was that he was your boyfriend, not theirs. You’d mentally scold yourself for being so immature when that happened, but the sentiment still lingered in your head.

“Ok…” you say, trying to keep your voice neutral. He hears the dejection in your tone though.

“Baby,” he coos in that voice that sent warmth through your spine and got you to agree with everything he said, “You know I’d rather be with you. I’m just new and have to take the time to learn. Plus, with the caseload and the number of officers here, they need me at the station.”

“I need you more,” you say. You try to pass it off as playfulness, but it comes from real feelings. Your heart was beginning to tense with resentment for the RPD for taking him away so much. You knew the job meant a lot to him though which is why you would never unleash your admittedly petty frustrations.

A low laugh leaves him, and you can hear that loving smirk on his face as his voice comes through your phone’s speaker.

“Do you now? You’re really missing me that much?” he teases, leaning back in the driver’s seat of his cruiser.

He knew that you did in fact miss him that much. And even though, since starting at the police station, he tried to project the image of a tough guy, he missed you just as much. That’s why he started calling you during lulls in his shift.

“Mhm. It’s not fair. It’s like I’m sharing you with the station. And I don’t like sharing,” you say with an exaggerated huff.

“Oh, I know you don’t,” he chuckles. He sighs happily, checking the time to calculate how much time was left before he could have you in his arms again. “But not much longer, baby. Then you get me all to yourself for the whole weekend.”

“I better,” you grumble with a smile.

“I promise you will,” he says genuinely. A light on his dashboard flickers, alerting him that his attention is needed elsewhere. “Just don’t stay up too late waiting for me tonight, ok? Your rest is important.”

“Seeing you is more important,” you respond.

“I know, but I prefer my girl when she’s not all cranky and sleep deprived. So try tonight, sweetheart. For me?” he asks.

“I guess,” you concede. Your heart already aches, knowing he’s about to hang up.

“I love you, baby,” he says softly, “I’ll see you later.”

“I love you too,” you tell him before he disconnects the call.

The silence that falls over your room makes it feel even more empty. You tap the glass screen of your phone, scanning for the time before you finish getting ready for bed. Your mouth curves downward when the numbers light up on the screen.

Only 10:30. Too much time till you’ll hear him come through your front door, but it’s not like you can do anything about it. You haphazardly go through the rest of your routine before dragging yourself over to your bed and getting in.

Sliding between the soft pink sheets, you flop down against your pillow and stare at the ceiling as you contemplate how to kill the time. Nothing grabs your interest because none of it’s him. It’s all just filler.

And worst of all, you were starting to feel sleepy. You wanted to wait up for Leon so badly, but you also went through a whole day of your own that tired you out. Plus, your bed was just so comfy with your plush blankets and full pillows, stuffed animals and frilly decorative cushions scattered on one side.

Thinking it would help to keep your eyes actively focused on something, you try to read. Your eyes scan over the words, and it isn’t long before you realize you’d made a horrible mistake. Moving your eyes along the page only made them more drowsy.

Next you turn on the tv and put on something you didn’t really have to pay attention to. But the soft glow of the tv casts across you and the low chatter of the characters becomes background noise, making it even harder for you to keep your eyes open.

You lazily reach across your bed and grab the bunny stuffie Leon had bought for you a few weeks prior. Tucking it beneath your chin and close to your chest, your drooping eyes fall shut and your breaths become soft and even. Barely any time has gone by before you’re sinking into slumber.

Leon glances down at his phone, the small numbers illuminating 2:04 in the darkness of the hallway. He enters your place with the key you gave him and shuts the door as quietly as possible. He knows you’re sleeping from seeing the dark bedroom. Already feeling guilty for taking longer than he’d expected, he didn’t want to add to that feeling by waking you up.

He makes his way to your room, padding silently down the hall. Once he reaches the door, he pushes it open with almost no force in an attempt to avoid even the slightest creak. You’re where he expected you to be, curled up in your bed, completely peaceful as you slept. He knew he probably looked like a little lovesick puppy right about now, eager to hop into bed and snuggle up to your side, but he didn’t care.

It takes him no time to shed his police uniform. He makes quick work of unlacing his boots and kicking them off. His pants and shirt crumple up at the foot of your bed next to his belt and socks. Finally, once he’s got on a pair of sweatpants he kept at your place, he climbs into bed with you.

He shoves your stuffies and extra pillows out of his way with a playful roll of his eyes and gets as close to you as he can. His arm drapes over you, and he nuzzles the back of your neck, planting a few kisses on the base of your head. You smelled so good, felt so soft, perfect to come home to.

His body melts into the mattress, and he’s ready to give into his own urges to sleep. That is until he notices you’re not as peaceful as you appeared from the doorway. His eyebrows raise as he feels your legs squirming. Restless movements from your feet beneath the covers and your thighs shifting aimlessly against each other.

He’s ready to brush it off at first. ‘Must just be having some wild dreams,’ he thinks with another kiss to your head. But then he hears the faintest sound, so quiet that he probably would have missed it had he been focused on anything else. It’s a whimper. A gentle, tender squeak that slips from between your lips into the cool air of your bedroom.

Now, his face conveys his concern. He worries you’re having a nightmare. That at any moment you’ll wake up with tears in your eyes and your heart pounding out of your chest. Immediately, he begins stroking your arm, kissing your temple, murmuring “It’s ok, baby. I’m here.”

But you make that little noise again, and this time it paints a different picture in Leon’s head. This whimper didn’t sound scared or stressed, like you were crying out for his protection. No, this sound brought to mind images of you writhing beneath him, nails marking his biceps with small crescents as he pumped himself in and out of you.

He shakes his head because that couldn’t be it. That’s just his horny mind creating things that aren’t there from being so pent up.

At least that’s what he tells himself until you make the noise again. It brings the same memories up, but this time he’s even more sure of it. He lifts his head off of yours to look down at you and try to figure out what to do next.

You look so cute, brows slightly furrowed, lips parted. As he brushes some hair from your face, he notices your fingers clutching your stuffed rabbit a little tighter. Your breath hitches for a moment before you let out a soft, sleepy whine of his name.

It’s unmistakable now what’s going on. He smirks and traces a finger over your lips. The pad of his index finger drags on your bottom lip slightly, turning your mouth into that pout he loved so much. He leans and kisses your cheek as you whine again.

“Please.”

He chuckles at how needy you sound even in your sleep, but at the same time, your voice has blood rushing to his cock while his head swirls with desire. He shifts his own hips, subtly pressing his erection against your ass. His eyes flutter at the minute pleasure. He grows more bold, and his hand rubs your hip before coasting up your side to your chest, giving your breast a gentle squeeze.

You whimper louder and squirm. He squeezes again softly while lowering his head to your neck to lay some tender kisses on the side of your throat. His palm leaves your tits and smooths down over your tummy in the direction of your shorts.

Cautiously, he maneuvers his hand past the waistband and dips into your panties. He cups your pussy, feeling the heat radiating off the area. A single finger slides between your folds in almost an exploratory touch. He feels your slick all over his digit. Clearly, this dream was a pretty good one.

He begins to use another finger, sliding the two up and down through your wetness. You roll onto your back, your breasts rising and falling as your breath gets heavier. Your thighs spread a little as if you subconsciously sensed his presence between your legs.

In your dreams, Leon was doing a lot more than rubbing you with his fingers. After you had fallen asleep, it felt like no time had passed. All of the sudden you were just on the table in your dining room, spread out for his rapture.

You didn’t realize you were dreaming, everything felt so real. To you, he was really there, looking down at you with those loving yet lecherous eyes. Hands roaming your exposed body, lips caressing your skin all over. Everything seemed light and airy while also feeling heavy and thick. Your head, filled with clouds, slipped in and out of the moment. The sensation of him rutting his cock between your thighs and sliding inside of you was your reality at the moment.

In actual reality, Leon continues to move his fingers slowly, swiping them over your entrance and taking them back up to circle your clit. You mewl when he applies some pressure, sending sparks through you. Your squirming becomes more motivated, and he can tell your drifting away from your restful sleep back toward consciousness.

“I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice huskier with arousal this time around.

You hear his voice in your dreams. The deep rumble enters your ears as you envision his hips pistoning into your wanting cunt. You mumble something in response, but he can’t understand the sleepy babbling. He rubs your clit a little harder with some more speed. You twitch in response, yet your eyes remain closed.

“I know, baby. I know it feels so good,” he coos and kisses behind your ear.

More incoherent words fall from your mouth. He sucks love bites into your neck, and you tilt your head back, craving more of that feeling. The dream version of him began mimicking the actions of the real Leon as you neared waking.

Whining louder, your fingers dig into the smooth fur of your plush bunny before letting it go. He nips at the sensitive skin of your throat as his fingers travel down and push inside your heat.

The feeling rips a moan from you and causes your eyes to open. Your back arches as he works them deeper. Your hips wriggle a little as you make sense of what’s happening.

“Leon?” you whimper. Your sleepy eyes struggle to stay open after being torn from the fog of sleep.

“That’s right, baby. It’s just me. You were having some nice dreams, weren’t you, pretty girl?” he says.

“Mhm,” you hum mindlessly.

“About me?” he teases, eyes watching your body fidget with the pleasure you felt.

“About you,” you confirm before he leans down and kisses your lips. They were so soft against his own. He slowly moves his mouth with yours and languidly slides his tongue against yours.

You moan into the kiss as his fingers curl within you and hit your favorite spot. Your feet lightly kick at the sensation. Your hips rise a little as you feel the flood gates holding your release about to break.

You’re too sleepy to tell him out right, but he knows the signs. He keeps working you there until your body seizes and arches off the bed. You let out a throaty moan and turn your head to bury your face against his shoulder.

“There you go. Let it all out, sweetheart,” he whispers and kisses your head.

You ride out the high on his hand, and by the time you’re done, you’re ready to fall asleep again. Your mind is hazy with the fog of release. You’re drifting off as your body settles without even realizing it.

You’re only yanked back to reality by Leon scooping you up into his lap. He’s sitting with his back to the headboard, and he situates you between his thighs, back against his chest. His arms keep you caged in nice and close, safe and warm.

“Don’t fall asleep again just yet, babydoll,” he murmurs while kissing up your neck.

Your head lolls back against his shoulder. The fight to stay awake gets a little easier as his hand returns to your soaked panties. He doesn’t tease this time, just slides in two fingers and starts moving them in and out.

The new angle makes you squirm and whine, but he holds you tight in place with his free arm.

“Gotta work you open, honey. Can’t just slide my dick in you with no warm up,” he says with a smirk.

His voice pulls you towards lucidity a little more. Your hands wrap around his free arm for support while your hips instinctively roll into his blissful touch.

“I missed you,” you choke out between gasps and whimpers.

“I know you did,” he teases, grinning against your throat. His cock throbs against the small of your back as his ears latch onto the sound of your slick around his fingers. “Came home to cuddle with my sweet girl, and I find her having such dirty dreams.”

Your cheeks heat up as you start to piece together what had happened. You fully realize now that your escapade on the kitchen table was entirely in your mind. You feel embarrassed for a moment, but the feeling dies pretty quick as you rapidly approach the edge for a second time.

“Not my fault,” you whimper shyly.

He chuckles and kisses your temple once more. “I know it’s not. If anything, it’s mine. I think I’ve been neglecting my baby,” he says with a mocking lilt in his voice.

You cry out as his fingers brush against those same spots that brought you to the finish last time. Your hips twitch, and you grip his thighs as your peak rises within you. Moments later your cumming all over his fingers, sucking in a harsh breath as a second release courses through you, even more intense then the last.

His free arm keeps you secure against his chest while rubbing your side soothingly. The heel of his other palm roughly massages your clit as his fingers pump in and out.

“Good girl,” he coos, “That’s it, just one more and then I can put you to sleep how you deserve.”

As soon as you seem to be coming down, Leon lifts you up again, tugging your clothes off and moving your body around like a doll to get you in the position he wants. You were definitely more pliant after two orgasms, but you could also see how his training had been paying off. Maybe this new job wasn’t all bad.

He has you on your back now, thighs against your chest and knees hooked over his arms. Again, he had no patience to tease right now, so after pushing his sweats down to mid thigh, he takes his cock and slides it in you with no hesitation. He groans as your hole takes him in, your walls pulsing around him even after he bottoms out.

“So wet. I can just slide right in,” he mumbles as his own hips twitch.

Your eyes droop at the stretch. It always felt so satisfying, having him buried balls deep in you. As close as he could possibly be. No fear of him leaving or pain of being separated. You whine and reach up to pull him closer.

He follows along and rests his face against your neck as he begins thrusting. You hear him panting right in your ear. His hands grip your hips so hard you know there’ll be marks.

“Perfect pussy’s made for me,” he grunts while snapping his hips, “Miss it every second I’m not inside it.”

You nod lazily as you continue to clamp down around him. After two releases, you didn’t even feel a building ecstasy anymore, just a constant stream of pleasure.

“Leon,” you whine, “Harder. Wanna feel it.”

He moans at your plea but indulges you, grabbing you harder, pressing your legs higher, filling you deeper.

“Wanna be sore after, don’t you, sweetheart? Want a reminder of me while I’m at work. Something to tide you over till I can do this again. Won’t have to rely on dreams then, right?” he says.

“Yeah,” you whimper. Your bed creaks as he picks up the pace, but your moans mask the sound as they grow in volume.

He fucks into you over and over, stoking the flames within himself, trying to build to that explosion. You were so tight, so warm. He hums another low moan and whimpers softly as he feels it right there. He gasps softly before holding you tighter and muttering in your ear.

“Ready for another one, honey? Gonna be the last one and then we’ll get you comfy and off to sleep.”

“Yeah,” you moan again, unable to say much else.

“Good… good girl,” he moans before his hips buck wildly and he finally releases.

You finish for a third time. You cling to him tight as the euphoria washes over you again. Locking your legs around his hips, you keep your face pressed to the warm skin of his neck as it goes through you. You feel the hot flood of cum he fucks into you. His chest is heaving now too as he recovers from the high.

He stays on top of you for a moment before pulling out. You cling harder upon losing that full feeling. He smiles at your desire to be close to him and gives you one more kiss before sitting up.

“So sweet to me, baby. I hope that made up for the late night,” he whispers and strokes your hair.

“It did,” you say with a nod. Your eyes were already shutting again, ready to go back to sleep after being fucked so good.

He looks at you with all the love in the world as he pulls his sweats up. He then helps you pull your panties and shirt back on, trying to laugh at your sleepy, half-assed movements.

After that, he gets you all tucked in next to him, snuggled up in his arms like he originally intended. He even grabs that stuffed bunny he got you and fits it close to you in case you want it.

“Get some rest, honey. You need it,” he whispers while rubbing your back.

“Mhm,” you respond tiredly, “You too. You’re all mine for the weekend, and I don’t want you tired out the whole time.”

“Alright, but I’m gonna be tired out if we do some more of that again tomorrow,” he jokes. He pulls you close to him and shuts his eyes, nestling his head against yours and settling in to rest.

That puts a smile on your face and you nuzzle him once more before letting yourself fall asleep for the night.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil smut #smut #kenny fic <3 #ch: leon kennedy 💌

2K notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

Text

Home For Christmas

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You get sidetracked on your way home.

Character: Andy Barber

Day Four of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - the car broke down and the snow is getting deep

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"It's getting bad," Andy shifts in the passenger seat, as usual, stating the obvious.

"Yeah, just gotta be careful," you grip the wheel, leaning into it as you try to see through the falling powder. "I've driven through worse."

"Maybe, but it's not letting up," he sits up, concerned after his cat nap. "Might be a good idea to look for a hotel or something. Even just somewhere we can pull off until it dies down."

"It's really not that much," you argue. You just want to get home. Just a few more hours and you get to enjoy your holidays.

"Look, I know you wanna get back for Christmas but--"

"Shit!" You exclaim as headlights flash through the white flakes and veer away from you with a honk as you twist the wheel to avoid the other car.

You slam on the breaks as you steer into a heaping bank, sending up puffs of snow all around you. Andy grunts as he reaches over to flip on the hazards. You catch your breath as he sighs. You hate that sound.

"What were you saying?" He mutters.

"That guy was in the wrong lane," you argue. "I can't help that."

"Yeah, but if you can't see them, they can't see you."

You keep from countering. He always has to be right. Besides, he's your boss, he's supposed to be right. It just irks you how he talks to you like a child. You're almost the same damn age as him.

"Let me drive," he insists.

"Andy," you shift into reverse and check the back window, "can you check your phone? See if there's anything close by."

Your defeat is in your voice. He is right. The snows getting worse by the second. You'll be lucky to get as far as a hotel.

"Shit," he mutters as he sits back and looks at his phone, "no signal."

He raises it, angling it around with a tut. You chew your cheeks in agitation. That means you can't even call James to let him know you'll be late.

"I think I saw a sign back a ways..." you drone uncertainly, once more clamping down on the wheel. "Let me know if you see anything."

You right the nose of the car, the tires rolling without traction before finally catching. That's not good either. Of course, the snow had to wait. It had to dump in that moment, when you're finally at the end of this stupid work trip.

You head back down the highway, tense as you feel the tenuous grip of the tires. You’re not sure you’re going to get very far. You don’t. After a sluggish advance, the car swerves as snow builds up in the tire wells and clog the axle. Once more, you barely keep control as you steer back towards the snow-buried apron.

You roll into the window high drifts and push both feet onto the brake. You hang your head forward and groan. Andy’s hand grips the corner of your seat, his other on the dashboard. You lean back and shake your heads.

“Well, Happy Holidays,” you huff. “Should we get out and walk.”

“You think we’ll get far?” He asks, though you can’t tell if it’s rhetorical or not.

“What else can we do?” You wonder with exasperation.

“Got an emerge kit in the trunk. Seats fold down.”

You blink at him. He can’t mean that.

“Just until it stops. It’s only building and even if we don’t want to, there’s not much choice.”

“We can call for help,” you suggest.

“Even if someone could get to us, I don’t have any bars. What about you?”

You shift into park and take out your phone. A circle with a bar. Nothing.

“Can’t keep this on forever either. The battery will die. There’s a thermal blanket, a couple of hand warmers, food...”

“Jesus, how long are we going to be stuck here?” You look at him.

For the first time in all the years you’ve worked with him, Andy looks uncertain. That adds to your anxiety. He frowns and slides his hand off the seat onto your shoulder.

“Look, it’s fine. It should be more than tonight. Snow’s supposed to let up after dusk, then we just need to wait for the plows. They usually start up at 3. Before traffic gets heavy.” He assures.

You nod. For once, you’re happy to have a know-it-all with you.

“Alright, so, turn off the engine.”

You do what he says and he reaches for his door. He pushes it open and the wind blows back his hair and dusts snow into the SUV. He goes to the back of the car, disappearing into the white void. You watch nervously, trying to see through the thick flakes.

The hatch opens and you undo your seat belt so you can crane around. “What are you doing?”

“Gotta make sure we’re visible. I’ll hang one of the emergency vests on the back.”

“Oh, right, can I help?” You wonder.

“If you can get the seats down, we’re going to have to keep as much warmth as we can. Lever’s underneath,” he hollers through the wind. His cheeks are already touched pink by the snowy blast. He pulls out a neon yellow vest and closes the back up.

You get out of the seat and pull the switch on the side to fold it forward. You climb over it and feel around the front of the backseat. You get those down as the side door opens. And climbs up, crunching himself down to fit in the tight space.

You operate silently in unison. He gets the blankets out. Two. He suggests one for underneath and the second over you. He has bottles of water, some cold rations, and little packets that heat up for about 15 minutes when you rub them.

As you sit on the thermal blanket he feels the front of his jacket, “damn it,” you can see the moisture around his shoulders.

He strips it off and shivers in his dress shirt. His hair is damp too, curling at the ends. He looks at you, his blue eyes bolder as the world is white outside the windows.

“Uh, we gotta...”

“Yeah, sure,” you grab the blanket and pull it close. He moves next to you. There isn’t quite enough space to stretch out. You’re scrunched up as your arms touch and you lean on the slight incline of the folded seat.

“Gonna be a long night,” he mutters.

“Not exactly the white Christmas I hoped for,” you agree.

You don’t complain much more. You have someone to get home to eventually. Since the divorce, Andy is rarely eager to leave work. It’s exactly the reason you’re trapped on the side of the highway. The work trip was his reason not to be alone. You feel bad for him, even if he is an ass of a boss.

❄️

Your teeth chatter as you hug yourself under the blanket. Andy’s heat burns at your back but can’t warm you as the wind whistles outside the car. He turns on the car for about ten minutes at a time but hasn’t in at least two hours as the coldness sets in. It’s better to conserve the heat under the blanket.

His arm is around you, his chin in your shoulder, resting against yours. It’s an innately intimate position, intertwined, snug, but you’re not thinking about that. You’re just thinking about the miracle of modern heating. You just need to make it through tonight.

He shifts and shivers against you. You put your hand on his to try to warm him. You don’t feel you’re offering much as he radiates with heat.

He sighs. God, his damn sighs. The sound that make your office days longer.

You close your eyes but can’t sleep. You’re too anxious to settle down. Your eyes burn with fatigue but your adrenaline keeps you unsettled.

The silence is as frigid as the weather. Both of you stopped talking a while ago. There’s nothing left to say but the obvious. You can’t wait to be out of there. You try to relax, the tension aching in your neck.

He shifts and his hand slips from under yours. You move too, searching for comfort. His fingers rustle down your shirt and touch the front of your pants. The awkward brush makes you squirm. He drags his hand back up and presses against the bottom of your shirt.

You go rigid again. His fingertips trace the waistband of your wool trousers. Your eyes snap open.

He dips beneath the fabric and you suck in a stunned breath. You flinch as he tickles along your panties. You cough.

“Andy, what--”

He hushes you, “it’s cold...”

Does he know what he’s doing? Maybe he’s just trying to go up your shirt but that’s not better, is it? His cheek presses against your skull as he pulls you flush to him. He delves beneath your underwear and you gasp again.

“Andy--”

“No one will know,” he grits.

“No, Andy,” you grab his forearm. “You can’t-- I know you’ve been going through a lot but no--”

His other arm snakes up from under your waist and his hand stretches across your throat. You gulp and let out another surprised squeak. He squeezes as you reach to snatch at his grip.

“And...”

He chokes the protest from you as he grazes along your pelvis. You wince and as he rocks his hips against you. He purrs. “Mmm, nice and tidy... like you were expecting this.”

Your skin blazes in humiliation. You spent a little extra time trimming. You missed James terribly and his texts betrayed that the feeling was mutual.

You croak but can’t speak. He fingertips press behind your jaw until the pain waters in your eyes. He jams his hand between your thighs. He curls against your cunt and glides between your folds. Another spark of humiliation scalds you. It’s been weeks since you had the time of energy to spend with James. You and your husband are just too busy. You’re all too responsive to the rare touch.

The fear constricts across your ribs as your heart pound, echoing in your temples. You squeeze his wrist which only inspires him to tighten his hold on your throat. Your eyes gloss over with helplessness. You can't stop him. Not in that moment and even if you could speak, there’s no one to hear you scream for help.

He bends his fingers until they sink past your entrance. He has no patience. He buries himself to his lowest knuckle, gripping tight so the heel of his hand is against your clit. The pressure pulses into your core.

He tilts his hand, forming a slow rhythm that feeds a different kind of heat. The kind that burns your soul. You flick your lashes as your walls clench him and you twitch. No, no.

Your breath picks up. You think of your husband, waiting, worried, and you’re there... he can’t ever know. Even if it’s wrong. Even if you don’t want it.

“I’ve been so lonely,” he rasps against the brim of your ear. “I just... need to touch someone.” His desperation trembles in his voice. “You’re so warm and soft.... and wet.”

You hear your cunt clinging to him as he rocks his hand faster and faster. The swirl of nerves flurries to a spiral. The coil twists tighter and tighter. You arch your back, pushing your ass back unthinkingly against his crotch.

He moves in response. Rubbing his hard bulge against you. His own breath hitches as he writhes in tandem with his hand. His palm claps against you as he fucks you harder and harder, pumping himself against your ass.

You let go of him to bite your finger. You cum in a spasm, your tears overflowing in more than shame. It’s a sense of relief, the release of the tension built of neglect and stress. He puffs furiously as he ruts against you, shaking as his voice gurgles and his rhythm turns spasmodic.

He growls and grunts until he falls out of motion. He stills and goes slack, his hand trapped beneath your thighs as he heaves. He purrs and nuzzles your ear.

“I won’t tell him if you don’t,” he grits.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #defending jacob #december daze #advent #navy and roo's sleepover

251 notes · View notes

navybrat817 · 10 months ago

Note

Steve + 9. "Don't even think about getting out of the car."

Oh, Eva. 🫠

Direct Order

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Summary: Steve doesn't like that you ignored his direct order.

Word Count: Almost 900

Warnings: Arguing, slight angst, stubbornness, slight feels (it's me), Steve Rogers (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Another overprotective prompt ficlet. Thanks, Eva! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The night air was cool and refreshing as you rolled the window down, but it went back up before you could appreciate the breeze against your skin. You shot Steve a glare who didn't acknowledge you as he drove. You didn't like uncomfortable silence, but you didn't attempt to fill the time with small talk. Not since he decided to rip you a new one in front of the team an hour ago.

You just wanted to go home.

“You have nothing to say?” Steve asked, his voice low. “Must be killing you to go this long without talking.”

You fought the urge to kick the dashboard since the car didn't do anything to you and smacking him could cause an accident. “And it must be killing you that I didn't fall in line today like a perfect little soldier,” you said with a sardonic smile. “Or would you prefer I act like a doll?”

“You ignored my direct order,” he growled as he gripped the steering wheel. For a moment you thought he’d bend or rip it away. “What the hell were you thinking?”

You sneered before facing forward. “Jesus Christ, give it a rest. You berated me enough on the quinjet and I don't need to hear it again.”

He took his eyes off the road long enough for you to see the anger brewing. “Damn right I berated you because you never listen to me.”

The tension thickened. You didn't typically argue with Steve. You went against him once and now he was saying you never listened to him? Where the hell did he get off?

“Don’t you dare lecture me about not listening to you when you’re the one who never listens to anyone,” you argued, feeling a hint of satisfaction when he clenched his jaw. “And I made the right call. I stand by that.”

The mission was a success because of your decision.

“You don't make the calls. That isn't your job,” he snapped, the tires squealing as he made a rough turn. “You could've been hurt or worse. Don't you get that?! You can be so stubborn sometimes.”

“But I wasn't hurt! And me being stubborn? Pot meet fucking kettle, Rogers!”

“Captain,” he said through his perfect teeth.

“Captain,” you scoffed, your blood boiling. “You are not my Captain right now. You're just some guy who wormed his way into driving me home after running his mouth.”

You shrieked when he slammed on the brakes, bracing yourself on the dash when he ran a hand through his blonde hair and bitterly chuckled. It was a foreign sound coming from him. One that made you shut your mouth. “Some guy? Now I’m just some guy?”

Concern flickered across your face. Yeah, you were mad, but you didn't have to push. “Steve. I mean, Captain, I-”

“I’m not just some guy and I’m not just your Captain,” he cut you off, stopping you when you reached for the door handle. “Don't even think about getting out of the car. We’re not done yet.”

“Why should I stay? So you can snap at me some more?” You mumbled. “Would you treat Bucky or Sam or anyone else like this?”

It wasn't fair to try and make him feel bad. He was your leader for a reason and he gave you an order. You didn't follow it. He had every right to be pissed off. By all means he had the right to bench you, too.

But why was he taking it personally?

All the anger fell from Steve’s face as he leaned across the seat more. “I’m sorry.”

Your gaze softened, too. “Why are you sorry?”

“For snapping the way I did,” he said with a shake of his head. “You just scared me today. I get scared every time you go into the field, but that was the first time you…”

“Didn’t listen,” you finished for him, your heart pounding when you realized just how close he was. If he leaned in any closer, his lips would be against yours.

“And you are right. I have a hard time listening to others myself,” he said, smiling when you snorted. “But I don't give you orders for you to act like a perfect soldier or doll. Just like I don't give Bucky or Sam or anyone else orders just to have things done my way. I do it to keep you as safe as possible. It would break my heart if something happened to you, sweetheart.”

Your eyes went wide. “Did you just call me ‘sweetheart’?” You asked, your stomach doing a funny flip.

He chuckled, the sound much warmer than before. “So, you do listen.”

“Most of the time,” you teased, staring into his eyes. You could see how much he cared. No wonder he took this mission to heart.

“Arguing aside, you did well,” he praised, which sent heat to your cheeks.

“Thank you, Captain. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“I’ll forgive you for ignoring my orders if you let me walk you to your door.”

“And I'll forgive you for snapping at me in front of the team if you come inside and have a drink,” you countered.

You didn't expect him to move his mouth to your ear. “I’ll only come inside if you say ‘please’,” he whispered, sending a shiver down your spine. “And that's a direct order.”

Yes, sir. ❤️‍🔥 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x female!reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #chris evans #chris evans x reader #nomad!steve rogers #captain america

832 notes · View notes

lizzyiii · 4 months ago

Text

Fire and Family (1)

SUMMARY | chapter name: Aemond's Mysterious Girlfriend

WARNINGS | no warnings really, perhaps slight homophobia as well as slight rhaenicent, modern au

TAGLIST | if you'd like to be added to the taglist just add your username to this DOC

A/N | I had so much fun writing this omggg

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated ✨

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

“Stop worrying."

Aemond’s grip on the steering wheel was tighter than necessary, his knuckles turning white as he kept his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

“I’m not worried,” he replied, his voice flat and unconvincing.

You raised a skeptical brow, your silver hair catching the light as you observed his tense posture. “Is that why your fists are strangling the wheel, and your eyebrows remind me of an angry bird?”

“I’m not worried,” he murmured again, deadpan.

Rolling your eyes, you turned your attention to the window, watching as the city of King’s Landing whizzed by in a blur of traffic and buildings. “Still not convinced, but I’ll drop it.”

As the car slowed to a stop at a red light, Aemond reached over without a word and pushed your feet off the dashboard.

“You’re going to scratch the dashboard,” he said, his tone more parental than necessary.

You huffed in response. “You know what would’ve made this situation so much better?”

Aemond sighed but humored you. “What?”

“If you’d introduced me to her beforehand,” you replied, casual and flippant.

“Little late for that,” he muttered under his breath, his grip tightening on the wheel again.

“Not really,” you continued, undeterred. “We can fix it tonight. You can introduce me to her, and I’ll give her a briefing.”

“A briefing?” Aemond finally turned his head to give you a raised brow.

You shrugged, completely nonchalant. “Yeah, you know, some tips on how to handle everyone. I mean, you know how our family can be.”

He turned back to the road, the light now green as the car lurched forward. “You’ll meet her tonight. That’s final.”

“Whatever,” you muttered, rolling your eyes again at his attempt to sound authoritative.

For a moment, there was silence in the car, the tension hanging in the air until you decided to poke at him again. You turned to him with a mischievous smile.

“So, can I at least know her name?”

Aemond sighed, his patience clearly running thin. “You’ll know it tonight.”

Once again, you huffed, fingers reaching for the radio, but before you could even touch it, Aemond slapped your hand away.

"Aemond!" you protested, glaring at him.

“I am not listening to the Mamma Mia soundtrack again,” he grumbled, his gaze firmly locked on the road.

You leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms in a huff. “It wasn’t going to be Mamma Mia,” you mumbled in a quieter voice, “It was going to be Pitch Perfect.”

Aemond’s lips twitched upwards, but he said nothing, clearly not wanting to start an argument.

After a moment, you spoke up again, “You know everyone's going to be there, right?”

Aemond glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, silently asking you to elaborate.

“Jace is coming back from Winterfell University, Helaena’s flying in from her Dorne trip, and of course, Baela and Rhaena are going to be there too. The whole circus.”

Aemond closed his eye and sighed deeply. “That’s absolutely fantastic.”

You gave him a sickly sweet smile. “I know, right? It’s going to be great.”

CUE THE FRIENDS THEME SONG

"i'll be there for you..."

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴠᴇʟᴀʀʏᴏɴ - ᴜɴɴᴏғғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ᴛʜᴇʀᴀᴘɪsᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ-ᴠᴇʟᴀʀʏᴏɴ-ʜɪɢʜᴛᴏᴡᴇʀ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ - ᴛʜᴇ sᴇʀɪᴏᴜs ʙᴏʀɪɴɢ ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ғᴜɴ (ᴀᴇɢᴏɴ's ᴡᴏʀᴅs)

ʜᴇʟᴀᴇɴᴀ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ - ᴛʜᴇ sʜʏ ɢɪʀʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴏᴍᴇʜᴏᴡ ᴋɴᴏᴡs ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ

ᴀᴇɢᴏɴ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ - "ʜᴇʀᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴛɪᴍᴇ."

ʙᴀᴇʟᴀ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ - ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴏᴛ sᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛ ᴅᴇʟᴜsɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ

ʀʜᴀᴇɴᴀ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ - ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜʀᴀɢᴇ ᴅᴇʟᴜsɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ

ᴊᴀᴄᴇ ᴠᴇʟᴀʀʏᴏɴ - "ᴘɪᴄᴋ ᴍᴇ ʙᴏʏ" (ʜɪs sɪsᴛᴇʀ's ᴡᴏʀᴅs)

ʟᴜᴋᴇ ᴠᴇʟᴀʀʏᴏɴ - ɪs ᴛᴇʀʀɪғɪᴇᴅ ᴏғ ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇs ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ ɢᴀᴍᴇs

。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°

“Family, I’m home!” you called out, stepping into the elaborate white foyer, adorned with red and gold accents, the unmistakable colors of House Targaryen. Almost instantly, you heard a high-pitched squeal of, “Mandia!” before a blur of silver hair zoomed toward your legs.

Before Aegon could tackle you, you scooped him up in your arms. His delighted giggles filled the room as you peppered his chubby cheeks with endless kisses. His tiny hands pushed your face away, but his smile said he loved every second of it.

Still grinning, you carried Aegon further into the house and walked into the living room, where you found your Joffrey sitting at the dining table, looking miserable. His dark hair was a mess, and he seemed to be staring at a mountain of papers.

“What are you doing?” you frowned, setting Aegon down and taking a closer look at the chaos.

Joffrey sighed dramatically, shooting you a pleading look that screamed, Save me. “Mum’s making me do homework.”

“Homework?” You scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “It’s summer break!”

“Please tell her that,” Joffrey begged, his eyes wide with desperation as you ruffled his shaggy hair.

Smirking, you patted him on the back. "Good luck with that, babe. You're on your own."

After that you made your way into your room, tossing your suitcase haphazardly onto the floor, you began the half-hearted process of unpacking. It wasn’t long before the monotony of folding clothes drove you to abandon the task altogether. You had barely been home for an hour, and already you were bored out of your mind.

Deciding you needed some distraction, you wandered downstairs to the nursery, where your baby brother, Viserys, was babbling away in his crib. As soon as he saw you, his face lit up, and he let out a delighted squeal. You couldn’t resist scooping him up, peppering his chubby cheeks with kisses until he was giggling uncontrollably and swatting at your face with his tiny hands.

"Alright, alright, no more kisses," you chuckled, carrying him out toward the backyard. "Let's go hang by the pool. It's hot enough to melt dragon eggs out there."

By the time you settled onto a lounge chair by the pool, it was around 3 p.m. Viserys lay on your stomach, gurgling happily, while Aegon and Joffrey were busy running around with the family dogs, chasing after balls that had long since disappeared under bushes.

Naturally, the estate wasn’t complete without its own mini-zoo: four large dogs—Vermax, Arrax, Tyraxes, and Stormcloud—were bounding around, while Syrax, your mother's obnoxiously spoiled Ragdoll cat, lounged on a nearby chair, surveying her kingdom with complete indifference.

You were just about to doze off when the sound of heels clacking against the stone patio jolted you awake. Your mother, Rhaenyra, burst onto the scene, looking as though she’d just sprinted from the boardroom to the backyard. She was still dressed in a sharply tailored business suit, her hair pulled back in a tight bun, phone in one hand and a look of mild panic in her eyes.

“Hey, twin,” you greeted lazily, raising a hand in half-hearted acknowledgment from your pool chair.

She barely slowed her pace, but she leaned down to kiss your cheek and then pressed a quick kiss to Viserys’s forehead. “Oh, you’re home,” she said, clearly distracted as her eyes scanned the chaos happening around the pool.

“Yup, back from the university zoo,” you replied, glancing at your phone. “By the way, what time are we supposed to be at Alicent’s dinner again?”

Rhaenyra frowned, her silver brows knitting together as she thought. “Five. Why?”

You tilted your phone toward her, raising a brow. “It’s 4:55.”

“Seven hells,” she muttered under her breath, eyes widening. For reasons beyond your comprehension, she always treated Alicent Hightower’s monthly dinners like they were state banquets.

“I know I’m late,” she said, already halfway out the door again. “Just give me five minutes to change.”

As she reached the door, she paused and did a quick headcount. Her eyes narrowed. “Where’s Jace?”

You absentmindedly tickled Viserys’s tummy, earning more giggles as you replied, “He texted me. He’s meeting us there. And he’s bringing a friend.”

Your mother turned around, her interest piqued. “A friend, or a friend?”

You gave her an exasperated look. “Mum, it’s his roommate, Cregan. Calm down, please."

Rhaenyra sighed dramatically, placing a hand on her hip. “Well, considering the way you lot are going, I’ve given up hope for grandchildren.”

You rolled your eyes, pointing at yourself, “First of all, your eldest child—that’s me—is only 21."

Then you gestured at Viserys, who was now trying to chew on his own hand, "And second of all, why on earth would you want grandchildren when your youngest is two years old?”

Your mother waved you off, muttering something about you distracting her before she rushed back inside.

She disappeared inside, muttering something about being late. You let out a long, exaggerated sigh, lifting Viserys off your stomach and handing him over to Elinda, the family nanny who had looked after you when you were a babe.

Once Viserys was safely in her arms, you heaved yourself out of the lounge chair and trudged inside to change, mentally preparing yourself for the inevitable awkwardness that always came with family dinners at Alicent’s.

You settled on a white, lacy top, a floral skirt that was just the right amount of "summer chic," and a pair of simple heels. You gave yourself an approving nod in the mirror. Definitely Alicent-approved.

Feeling confident, you grabbed your phone and headed out of your room, only to bump straight into Luke, who was coming down the hallway. He grinned at you, but your smile quickly turned into a frown as you eyed his outfit—jeans, a wrinkled graphic tee, and sneakers that had definitely seen better days.

"Are you serious?" you said, crossing your arms. "Are you going in that?"

Luke looked down at himself, confused and mildly offended. "What’s wrong with this?"

You gestured dramatically to your own outfit, then at his. "This is a formal dinner, Luke. We're not going to some burger joint."

"It’s a family dinner," Luke said, clearly not seeing the issue.

"Yeah," you emphasized, "hosted by Alicent. You know, the Queen of Passive-Aggressive Judgement? If you show up in jeans and a t-shirt, she’ll feel disrespected. She’ll probably spend the whole evening giving you the side-eye over the salad forks."

Luke crossed his arms and scowled. “It’s not that big of a dea—”

Before he could finish, your mother appeared at the staircase, looking like a force of nature in her sleek, all-black ensemble, her eyes narrowing immediately as she took in Luke’s choice of attire.

"What are you wearing?" she demanded, her voice carrying that “I’m not mad, just disappointed” tone that only parents can master.

"It’s a family dinner," Luke mumbled, pouting like a child caught sneaking biscuits before dinner.

Your mother gave him the look. The one that could send grown men running. "Go change."

"But—"

"Go. Change," Rhaenyra repeated, in a tone that left zero room for argument.

Luke groaned loudly, throwing his head back in melodramatic exasperation before stomping back toward his room like a scolded puppy.

By the time 6 p.m. rolled around, your mother had somehow managed to corral the entire chaotic family into the car. Aegon and Viserys were strapped securely in their car seats, with Joffrey wedged between them, poking Aegon every few minutes just to get a reaction.

Luke sat in the very back seat, arms crossed, radiating the kind of grumpy energy only a teenager could muster. You claimed the front seat beside Rhaenyra, already bracing yourself for the inevitable passive-aggressive showdown awaiting at Alicent’s.

"It’s 6 p.m.," you muttered, stating the obvious as your eyes flicked to the time on the dashboard.

Your mother shot you a side-eye glare that could freeze molten lava. You quickly clamped your mouth shut, deciding now was not the time to point out that being late to Alicent’s dinner would no doubt set off a chain reaction of looks and carefully veiled comments that would last the entire evening.

Rhaenyra turned on the radio, flipping through stations until she settled on some boring classical piece that did nothing to soothe the tension in the car.

As she drove through the sprawling estate, known to everyone as The Red Keep—a legacy of your ancestor Aegon the Conqueror, who apparently thought "over-the-top" was the only acceptable style choice—you stared out the window at the endless rows of manicured gardens, fountains, and random side buildings that no one in your family had probably set foot in for years. The mansion itself loomed in the distance, more of a castle than a house, with its stone towers and stained-glass windows.

When your mother finally parked the car, you all piled out in a semi-organized chaos. Rhaenyra retrieved Aegon and Viserys, who immediately started wriggling in her arms, while Joffrey sprinted off toward the front door like he was being chased by dragons. Luke, the embodiment of teenage apathy, slouched behind the rest of you with a heavy sigh that spoke volumes about his deep emotional struggle of having to attend a family dinner.

As you approached the towering entrance, the ever-present bodyguards, Erryk and Arryk Cargyll, stood on either side like twin statues. You gave them a quick nod as you passed, wondering if even they were secretly judging how late you were.

Before you could step inside, a flash of auburn hair appeared, and Alicent was suddenly in front of you, her expression teetering somewhere between mildly annoyed and disappointed but not surprised.

"Rhaenyra," she greeted coolly, her tone carrying just the right amount of disapproval to let you know you were late—very late.

"Alicent," your mother said smoothly, slipping into apology mode. "I know, I know—we’re late. Work ran long." She leaned in, giving Alicent a quick kiss on the cheek that seemed to linger just a second longer than necessary.

You raised an eyebrow, watching the subtle exchange with some curiosity. You were used to Alicent’s uptight demeanor, but there was always something… odd about the way your mother and Alicent interacted. Maybe it was because, once upon a time, they had been best friends—until Alicent up and married your grandfather, effectively making her the stepmother to her childhood bestie.

Yeah, you supposed that would add some awkward tension.

Alicent sighed, pulling back from the greeting with a tight smile. "Well, let’s just hope the food hasn’t gone cold. You know how my father hates to be kept waiting."

"Wouldn’t want to upset Lord Hightower," you quipped under your breath.

Both Alicent and your mother gave you identical disapproving glares, but before they could say anything, Alicent leaned in to greet you with a polite kiss on the cheek. Of course, you had to be you, so you obnoxiously wrapped your arms around her in an exaggerated hug.

"Hello, grandma!" you said, grinning mischievously.

Alicent rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of affection in her sigh. "You know I hate when you call me that."

"Which is exactly why I do it." You winked before clearing your throat. "So, is Aemond here yet?"

Alicent’s smile faltered for a moment, and you could see the familiar worry crease her brow. “No, not yet. But while we’re on the topic…” She gave you a pointed look. "Care to enlighten me on this mysterious girl he’s apparently been dating for two months? You’re usually the first to know these things."

You raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t know a thing about her.”

Both Alicent and Rhaenyra looked like you’d just told them that dragons were real (again). Their jaws dropped simultaneously, and you glanced between them, confused.

“What? Why is everyone looking at me like I’ve grown a second head?”

“You don’t know?” Rhaenyra said, her tone somewhere between disbelief and accusation.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. "Why does everyone expect me to know? I'm not Aemond’s personal secretary."

Alicent waved her arms in exasperation. "Perhaps because you two have been attached at the hip since you were in nappies?"

"Well, for the first time in my life, I don’t know!" you whisper-shouted, your frustration finally bubbling over. "And, yeah, maybe I’m a wee bit hurt that Aemond didn’t trust me enough to tell me her name or introduce us, but hey—that’s his deal!"

Both women stared at you in stunned silence, your mother’s mouth twitching as if she was processing this new information, while Alicent blinked in surprise at your mini-outburst. After a beat, Alicent softened and gave you a light, comforting pat on the shoulder. “The girls are in the lounge,” she murmured, trying to be supportive in the most Alicent way possible.

Lifting your chin, determined to keep your dignity intact, you gave a firm nod. "Thank you." With that, you turned and strode off toward the lounge, making your exit with as much grace as possible.

You took a deep breath, shaking off the last remnants of your frustration, and plastered a bright smile on your face before walking into the lounge. It was one of the many rooms in the Red Keep that felt like it was trying too hard to be both cozy and luxurious, with its intricate tapestries and way-too-expensive furniture that no one was allowed to actually use.

But all thoughts of the décor flew out of your head when you laid eyes on your brother. The first words that escaped your mouth were, "What the fuck happened to your hair?"

Jace looked up from his conversation with Luke and his friend, touching his newly curly locks with a sigh. “Gee, thanks, sis.”

“Not in a bad way!” you quickly backtracked, making your way over to him and playfully ruffling his curls. "I'm just glad you finally abandoned the straightening phase. Natural is always better."

Jace rolled his eyes dramatically, clearly used to your commentary. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway,” he waved a hand toward the guy sitting next to him, “This is Cregan Stark, my roommate.”

You turned to greet Cregan, but the words froze in your throat as your brain registered the sight in front of you. Standing there was a man who looked like he’d just stepped off the cover of Northern Lumberjack Monthly. Dark, unruly hair, piercing blue eyes, and shoulders so broad you were pretty sure he could carry a small house on them.

“Wow," you said before you could stop yourself, your eyes a bit wider than necessary.

Cregan chuckled at your reaction, a deep, rumbling sound. “Not the first time I’ve heard that,” he said, clearly amused.

You quickly regained your composure, throwing on a dazzling smile. "Well, I mean... you're just very Northern."

“Guilty as charged,” Cregan replied with an easy grin.

Trying to focus on literally anything else other than Cregan’s annoyingly attractive face, you turned back to Jace. “Where are the girls?”

Jace, already halfway through his beer, gestured lazily toward the patio with his glass. “Out there. Probably gossiping or plotting our demise.”

You snorted. “Sounds about right. Cheers, boys,” you said, giving a mock salute before heading out to find Baela, Rhaena and Hel.

You let out an excited squeal as soon as your eyes landed on Helaena. Without a second thought, you rushed toward her, practically barreling past Baela and Rhaena with a quick, “Move!”

Helaena, equally excited, squealed back, and the two of you collided in a tight embrace, jumping up and down like you hadn’t just seen each other in a few lifetimes. Which, in fairness, felt true. Helaena had been in Dorne for four months on what could only be described as the world’s longest vacation.

Rhaena watched the scene unfold with an amused smile, while Baela rolled her eyes and dramatically placed a hand over her heart. "Wow, cuz, it’s so nice to know how deeply you value us," Baela said, her voice dripping with mock offense.

With your arms still firmly wrapped around Helaena’s neck, you stuck your tongue out at Baela. “I see you two every day. I haven’t seen Helaena in months, so shush.”

You turned to Helaena, pecking her cheek, before launching into your usual barrage of questions. “Okay, spill! How was Dorne? How was Sunspear? And…” You wiggled your eyebrows dramatically. “How was Quentyn Martell?”

At the mention of Quentyn, Helaena’s cheeks flushed a light pink, and she immediately looked away, pretending to be oh-so-casual. “Dorne was... hot,” she muttered, fidgeting with her sleeve. “Sunspear was beautiful, and... well, Quentyn was lovely too.”

You smirked. “Lovely, huh?”

"Someone’s being a prude," Baela chimed in with a teasing grin. She leaned back against the bench, throwing a glance at Helaena. “Just say what we’re all thinking: you shagged him.”

Rhaena, who had been sipping her wine, nearly choked from laughing, patting her sister on the arm. "Baela, don't tease her. I’m sure it’s all very innocent."

Baela raised an eyebrow and gave Helaena a knowing look. "Yeah, as innocent as Aegon Targaryen with his sisters."

Helaena groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I hate you all.”

You chuckled, plopping down on the bench next to her. “You love us. Now tell us everything. Was there hand-holding? Eye-gazing? Did he pull the classic ‘let me show you the Water Gardens’ move?”

Helaena shot you a look but couldn’t help the small smile creeping onto her face. “Fine, fine! He did show me the Water Gardens, but that’s not the point!”

Baela and Rhaena leaned in closer, wide-eyed like they were hearing the most scandalous story of the century. “Did he kiss you under a lemon tree? Were there doves?” Baela gasped, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Helaena sighed, clearly regretting sharing anything. "You guys are taking the piss at me. And no, there were no doves. But we had a good time, alright? He is very sweet."

“Sweet is good!” you said, nodding approvingly. “But we’re going to need more details later. Like, what’s his deal? Tall, dark, and broody? Or more of the sensitive, soulful type?”

“Definitely broody,” Helaena admitted, almost shyly. “But... in a nice way?”

Baela snorted. “Classic Martell. Broody and mysterious. I’m telling you, it’s the heat in Dorne. Does something to their brains.”

You wiggled your eyebrows again, completely ignoring Helaena’s growing embarrassment. “Well, sounds like you’ve got yourself a Martell boyfriend. Now we just need to figure out how to drag Aemond’s mystery girl into the spotlight, and we’ll be set for tonight’s entertainment.”

Helaena gave you a playful shove. “You’re impossible. But fine, I’ll fill you in on the nonexistent doves later.”

Before you could embarrass Helaena further, Orwyle, the Red Keep’s ever-serious butler, appeared on the patio, clearing his throat. "Ladies, dinner is about to be served. And Miss Helaena, your brother has arrived."

Helaena raised an eyebrow, "Aemond or Aegon?"

"Both," Orwyle replied in his usual dry tone.

The girls perked up, but before anyone could say another word, your phone blared with the opening notes of "A Whole New World."

Baela gave you a dry look. “Seriously? Aladdin?”

You shrugged unapologetically, "Aladdin is a top-tier movie, and you know it."

As the girls made their way inside, you checked your phone screen where the name "Daeron the Forgotten" flashed in large letters. Rolling your eyes, you hit accept, and Daeron's boyish face filled the screen, silver hair tousled and lilac eyes gleaming with mischief.

"What do you want?" you asked, not even trying to hide the exasperation in your voice.

Daeron feigned shock. "First of all, rude. Second of all, I want to know about Aemond's girlfriend. Is she real or just a figment of his moody imagination?"

"You’re such a busybody,” you teased. “How about actually showing up to family dinners for once and finding out yourself?"

Daeron rolled his eyes dramatically. "I would but I was just there two weeks ago. And you know how much my mum can be..."

“Alicent Hightower? Overbearing? No!” you gasped, clutching your chest in mock disbelief.

Daeron smirked, but then his expression shifted as he groaned. "Plus, last month, when Rhaena announced she was a lesbian, and Mum started quoting the Faith of the Seven like she was auditioning for a preach-off... I’m not in a rush to sit through that again."

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, remembering the uncomfortable but hilarious scene. Wiping away an imaginary tear, you shook your head. "Oh, that was iconic. Alicent with the Seven verses... classic."

“Anyway, turn to the back camera so I can see Aemond’s girlfriend," Daeron insisted.

Rolling your eyes, you juggled your phone awkwardly, trying to press the right buttons with your manicured nails as you navigated through the massive Red Keep. “I’m doing it, relax!”

“Well, hurry up!” Daeron complained, his impatience crackling through the speaker.

Finally, after an eternity of fumbling, you stepped into the dining room. "Okay, got it," you said triumphantly as you flipped the camera.

"Ho-ly shite," Daeron whispered in shock.

Your brow furrowed.

"What?" You looked up, following the collective gaze of your family, all of whom were staring wide-eyed at Aemond. More specifically, at the woman latched onto Aemond’s arm. A woman who, you quickly realized, was a lot older than him.

Your eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as you finally recognized her familiar face. No. No. No. No.

You blinked, your mouth going dry as you looked at Aemond, who, to his credit, was meeting your gaze with the most desperate “help me” eyes you’d ever seen in your life.

Clearing your throat, you plastered on your best smile, trying to break the god-awful tension in the room. "Professor Rivers! Wow, it’s been a while! How are you?"

The silence in the room somehow got worse, if that was even possible. From your peripheral vision, you caught the sound of someone choking on their wine—most likely Jace—and Alicent’s audible gasp as she clutched her pearls, literally.

This was bad. This was so bad.

Great. Because of course no one else knew that Alys Rivers was your and Aemond's former professor.

Aegon, ever the king of timing, leaned in with a smirk. “So, do we still have to call her Alys? Or is ‘Professor Rivers’ more appropriate?”

You shot him a look that could kill, while Aemond, standing as still as a statue, whispered something that sounded suspiciously like, “I’m going to die.”

Alicent looked like she was about to faint, while Rhaenyra’s eyebrows shot so high, they were nearly in her hairline. “Aemond,” she finally said, her voice tight. “I think you forgot to mention this at the last family supper.”

The room was thick with tension—enough to choke on—and you were just trying to figure out how to survive this nightmare. Grabbing your phone, you whispered into the speaker, "Daeron, I need backup."

On the other end, Daeron was losing it. “Oh, I so wish I was there. This is gold.”

。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°

A/N — tell me what you think!!!! I forgot to put in the word count: 3.9k words. Also for context of all their ages.

Names that are in bold are ones that couldn't be added :(

@missyviolet123 @luckyfirebasement @champomiel @targaryenfamilywreath @lovewithmary @babypink224221

#aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #helaena targaryen x reader #helaena targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #baela targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #rhaenyra x alicent #rhaena targaryen

229 notes · View notes

strangerstilinski · 1 year ago

Text

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary; stiles lets it slip that he hasn't had his first kiss yet and, as his friend, you're more than happy to remedy that.

warnings; no use of y/n, fluff, established friendship, some pretty intense kissing, one instance of reader being referred to as a girl

word count; +3.5k

a/n; no smut here, but i am currently planning a couple nsfw pieces to work on between bouts of writing my ongoing (long suffering) stiles fic.

please think about leaving a comment/reblogging if you enjoy! it would actually mean the world to me

“-And it was just.. So wet. Way, way too much spit, y’know? And there was entirely too much tongue on his part considering the fact that his hands, like, never even left his pockets-”

You’re not entirely sure how, nor at what point, the conversation devolved into a mostly one-sided and incredibly detailed analysis of Mark Hagan’s kissing technique, or lack thereof, but by the time your eyes fall to the boy sitting in the driver’s seat, you realize that you’ve been rambling for at least a full minute in the patchy darkness of the parked car.

“-And I’m not saying I wanted to be groped or anything but, I mean, it’s a little awkward when a guy just-”

You falter suddenly, when you notice the awkward slump in Stiles’ posture, and your words taper out without warning. He has one hand white-knuckled on the steering wheel and the other gripped tightly on the back of the seat where he’d turned to face you when he first asked how your date had gone the night before. And- God. That had been minutes ago, now.

“Sorry,” You apologize immediately with a grimace, “Was that, like, way too much information? Sorry.”

“No, I, uh,” He releases the steering wheel and shakes out his hand as if only just realizing how tight his grip had truly been. Your eyes are embarrassingly distracted by the long line of his fingers as he continues, “I guess I just didn’t realize how many things you could do wrong, y’know? I assumed it’d be more straight forward than that. You lean in, press your lips together, kiss, done. Right?”

You laugh softly at his rushed response, “I mean, I guess. I’d like to think there’s a little more skill that goes into it than that.”

“And, uh, Mark..” Stiles has been seemingly overwhelmed with reasons to dislike the other boy since you’d announced your upcoming date the week before, and he nearly spits the name with disdain when he says it now. “No skill, huh? Not quite, uh.. Not up to your standards?” He’s fiddling with the straw from his long-finished milkshake as he speaks, eyes downcast and determinedly focussed on his fingers, “Considering the overabundance of tongue, the lack of groping, and the, uh.. All-around wetness-?”

Another small huff of laugher escapes you as you drop your own empty cup into the greasy paper bag the diner had stuffed your to-go order into a half hour before, your socked feet returning to the Jeep’s dashboard only a moment later.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” You fight back a cringe at the mere memory of the drool that coated Mark’s chin when you’d finally decided you’d had enough and pulled away.

“What about you?”

His question catches you off guard and your brows furrow as you meet his gaze, “What about me?”

He twists and folds the straw of his drink with more vigor, nose crinkling before he elaborates, “What would you say your, uh.. Your skill level.. is?”

You pitch forward to grab one of the few remaining curly fries from the container perched by your feet on the dash, falling back into your seat and munching slowly as you genuinely ponder the question.

“I think I’m probably alright,” You shrug after a moment, “I mean, it’s hard to say, right? But I’ve never had any complaints. And considering Lydia is, like, the queen of complaining-”

You’re caught off guard by the entirely inhuman squawk of disbelief and surprise that escapes him. He’s scrambling in his seat with no real purpose before he slowly comes back to a standstill, now sitting just a few inches closer to the passenger side than he was before.

“Lydia? You.. You and Lydia have-?”

You shrug again as you wipe your greasy fingertips on the leg of your jeans, “Yeah, like, twice. Maybe three times?”

“Three-?”

“What about you?” You interrupt.

You tip your head against the backrest to look at him in the dim light of the parking lot as you await his response. The Jeep is barely getting hit with the residual light from the windows of the diner, but the bright neon sign on the roof of the building casts a pretty red hue over Stiles’ face. His mole-dotted skin is flushed with it, the only bits safe from the red-tinted glow are the shadows beneath his brows and the tiny divot in the tip of his nose that extends up from his cupid’s bow. You want to trace the darkness on his skin with the tip of your finger — with your lips.

You find yourself getting lost in just how gorgeous he is, not for the first time.

“Huh?” Stiles asks dumbly.

“Skill level,” You elaborate with a grin, lifting one foot from the dash to poke your toes into his knee, “What about you? Are the girls positively swooning? Melting under your touch? ‘Oh, Stiles. You’re the best kisser on this side of the Rockies-’”

Your teasing is silenced when his hand comes out to cover your mouth, long fingers trapping the words beneath your lips. Your knee is squished awkwardly between you, but he’s so warm you can feel the heat of his body seeping into your own, and the scent of his body wash fills your nose now rather than the lingering smell of grease from your shared dinner. You can hardly focus on his words as the smell of teakwood and pine invades your senses.

“No one in their right mind would ever say something like that after being kissed,” He tells you, face pinched in a cringe, “Like, not even something remotely along those lines. Not even in those weird old-timey romance movies you make me w-”

You grab ahold of his fingers to pull his palm from your lips with a small giggle, “Oh, c’mon, the suspense is killing me! Are you a good kisser or not?” Your mind is reeling a bit as you think about it. You can’t help but wonder what it would be like to kiss Stiles, to feel his lips on your own, his hands on you. “I feel like you probably are. Just the right about of enthusiasm but you’re also a total perfectionist so it’d-”

“I don’t know!”

His exclamation is entirely too loud for the confined space of the car, his voice ricocheting sharply off the metal shell of the vehicle and causing you both to flinch a little. Stiles looks as if he wishes he could stuff the words back into his mouth and try again. You’re simply looking him over with a more critical eye, searching for the reason for his recent outburst as if it might be written plainly on his face, like you might find big emboldened letters of explanation etched across his skin.

“What’d’you mean you don’t know?” You scoff in amusement, “Y’know what? Fine-” You shuffle closer as an idea pops into your head — a brilliant, glorious, heaven-sent idea. His fingertips are still trapped within the palm of your hand and your knee slips over the top of his thigh as you slide closer and move into the center seat, “C’mere. I’ll give you review-”

Your face edges closer and closer to his own until your noses bump and the delicate touch seems to zap Stiles into alertness, sending him jolting back as if he’s been electrocuted.

The sourness that erupts in your belly at his reaction isn’t wholly unexpected, but a small flicker of shame joins it and burns like acid in your chest.

“Well, shit..” You murmur with an awkward chuckle.

It’s difficult to bite back the nagging feeling of embarrassment that swirls through your veins in response to being shot down by your best friend — your best friend that you’ve desperately been wanting to kiss since middle school.

You swallow harshly before continuing with a self-deprecating laugh, “I didn’t realize the thought of kissing me was quite so.. Horrifying. My bad.. I.. I’m sorry. You don’t- I didn’t think and I just- Sorry.” The last bit comes out quieter, the sound of it buried beneath the sudden tightness in your throat.

You find yourself avoiding his eyes, but that only means that your gaze is drawn to the smooth expanse of his neck — and there’s that glow from the diner’s neon sign again. His skin is cast in that red hue, smooth expanses of scarlet broken up by the speckles of dark moles and beauty marks scattered here, there, everywhere. You can almost make out his jumping pulse beneath the hollow of his throat, the dark crimson shadow twitching nearly imperceptibly with each too-quick beat of his heart.

They’re all spots that you’ve only dreamt of having your lips touch.

On rainy days when he shakes his hair out like a dog with the sole purpose of hearing the way you squeal in surprise, the drops of water finding their way down his temple and filling you with the urge to kiss it away.

When you slip into daydreams from the desk behind him during class, your eyes stuck on the exposed curve of his shoulder where his shirt collar is stretched just a little too loose, your lips tingling with the all-too vivid phantom feeling of his skin beneath them.

Trapped in his embrace, his height just enough that your face is smushed into his collarbones, nose crushed against him and pulling in the woodsy scent of his cologne, your mouth pressed limply to the soft cotton over his chest but aching with the desire to pucker and leave behind a gentle peck.

“No! No, it’s not that!” Stiles denies immediately. He’s already reaching out to drag you closer again, hands curling into your waist the moment you attempt to slip backwards into a bubble of shame in the passenger seat. “Kissing you would be the opposite of horrifying! It would be, like, a dream come true or- Or-”

Your eyebrows creep up your forehead at that, the barely there curve of a nervous smile pulling at the corners of your lips as his words seem to tumble out faster, growing increasingly difficult to understand as he rambles in a way that you’re all-too familiar with.

“-Because if I was going to kiss anyone, I’d want it to be you, but if I do kiss you and I’m horrible at it and you’re, like, repulsed-”

You’re still trying to piece things together despite the jumbled bits you seem to have missed. Your lips part in astonishment and his fingers tighten where they’ve begun to anxiously dig into your hips as he continues.

“-What if I’m worse than Mark? What if.. What if I’m so bad that you kiss me once and then you never, ever want to kiss me again because I was so unbelievably-”

“Stiles!”

You cut him off, already scooting closer until your left thigh is practically in his lap. His words cut off, a sharp inhale tearing past his lips as your hands find his shoulders, your thumb dragging over the freckled skin of his neck. You can feel his pulse jumping wildly against the pad of your finger as you finally voice your question.

“Are you telling me you’ve never kissed anyone before?” You ask the question as delicately as you can manage, but he still winces as an embarrassed flush colors his cheeks further.

“Not.. Not technically.” He admits quietly, big brown eyes still tinted beneath the crimson glow from outside the Jeep.

“Not technically?” You repeat slowly.

“I don’t know why I thought saying it like that would make it sound better,” He says weakly, “It didn’t. It was still just as mortifying. And so, so lame.”

Your heart flutters, cracks, and then ticks up in quick succession as your flooded with a wide array of conflicting emotions. You can’t quite believe what it is you’re hearing.

“You haven’t had your first kiss?” The words come out a bit more heartbroken than you intended.

Stiles looks horrified at the bluntness of your statement for a moment before he’s swallowing harshly, eyes dropping from your own for a fleeting second.

“No,” He says in a quiet voice, nearly a whisper as his eyes flick back up to yours, “But, um, if- If you’re still offering.. I mean-”

Your heart is positively hammering in your chest, so hard you worry he might be able to hear it, but then your thumb drags up and brushes over his own racing pulse again and his nerves seem to somehow calm yours. Your lean forward until the tip of your nose catches on the bridge of his again, eyes not leaving his as you move achingly slow, giving him time in case he decides to change his mind.

“You’re sure?” You ask softly, the whispered question little more than a breath of warm air against the bow of his upper lip.

“Uh huh.” He just manages the quiet sound of affirmation, a small nod of his head has your lips brushing lightly and the barely-there touch pulls a sharp breath of anticipation from him.

“Okay,” You say quietly, dragging one hand to the back of his neck so you can guide the angle of his head just a touch to one side.

His grip on your hips readjusts and tightens further, one of his clammy palms slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, and the warmth of skin on skin has you breathing out harshly in the sliver of space between your lips again. Your eyes flick slow between his, wide pools of scarlet-tinted whiskey watching you with rapt attention. Your mouth curves up with the hint of a smile, a soft breath of laughter falling into his parted lips as your fingers dig into the thick muscle of his neck.

“Close your eyes, weirdo.” You whisper fondly.

“Shit, fuck. Sorry, yeah. Eyes closed.” He rambles off quickly, eyes pinching shut immediately and hands squeezing your hips as if silently promising that he’s ready.

Endeared. You’re so fucking endeared your organs feel as if they’ve gone warm and syrupy beneath your skin.

Despite your admonishment of his eyes being open, you find yourself unable to pull your own away from watching every small tick in his features. Your hand on his shoulder tightens as you brush your nose across his and when the tight pinch of his eyes slackens and he takes a small nervous breath of anticipation, you finally press your lips to his.

It starts with just a small peck as your brain whites out for just a second. His lips are soft and chapped and plush against your own. You linger for a brief moment before you’re separating just enough to slot your mouths back together a little better.

His lower lip finds itself between yours and he gravitates toward you when you make like you’re about to draw back a second time, his mouth blindly searching for yours. He applies more pressure as he seems to become more sure of himself, one of his hands sliding to the base of your spine to drag you closer.

Impressed, you guide the angle of his head to tip just a hair further, your lips parting to exhale a hot breath into the gap between his own. A small sound rumbles from his chest as he tries to replicate the heat of your kiss on the next meeting. His lips fall open just enough that his breath mingles with your own and your brain goes a little heady with it, thighs tensing as blood rushes in your ears and heat pools in your gut.

You draw back and you’re forced to tangle your fingers in his hair to hold him in place when he tries to chase your mouth again. His eyes crack open to meet your own when he finds himself unable to catch you in another kiss and his pupils are blown a little wide, black overtaking brown until only a small ring of rich chocolate remains. You’re sure you don’t look much better, with the way our chest is threatening to heave with excitement, your fingers trembling where they’re gripping onto the muscle of his shoulder and woven into his hair.

“That was.. That was good.” You tell him after a moment, voice embarrassingly shaky, “What.. What’d you think?”

“Good.” He returns just as weak, “Great. That- Mhm. Awesome.”

His eyes are on your lips again and he looks downright hungry, but then, so are you.

“You’re a natural,” You praise breathlessly, eyes flicking between his rapidly as your fingers unconsciously tighten in his hair, “I’d never guess that was your first kiss – It was.. You learn fast.”

“We- You should probably show me more,” He insists, already leaning back in until his forehead finds your own, “That way I won’t end up like Mark, y’know? With pretty girls complaining to their friends about how wet and gross and bad it-”

“You think I’m pretty?”

He blinks at you as his lips curve up at the corners, the tip of his nose catching against yours to shoot sparks down your spine when he replies, “I think you’re beautiful.”

“Oh.” Is all you manage to get out as a smile tugs at your own lips.

“You want to maybe show me how to use tongue without, being completely repulsive and, like, drowning you or whatever?”

“Mhm,” You agree easily through a breathless laugh. You can’t quite help the quick press of your lips to his and you feel the relieved exhale that falls from his nose and fans out in a warm puff against your face. “Just for the record, though-” You feel the need to elaborate, “There is a time and a place for wet. When things are really hot and heavy and you’re in the throes of passion or whatever — a little too much tongue is great. It can be really, really hot. But- Like I said, time and place.”

The information leaves Stiles looking mildly overwhelmed and severely aroused, but he’s nodding dutifully, “Uh huh. Got it. Noted. I’ll remember that.”

“Okay.”

His mouth is claiming yours again before the word is even fully out, the sound of it lost in your lips and what remains is smothered by your gasp of surprise. You let him control the pace for a moment before remembering that you’re supposed to be the one guiding him.

You bring one hand up to his face, thumb catching his chin so you can guide his jaw to drop open a bit further as your tongue teases against the inside of his lip. His groan meets your ears, the sound of it sending a shockwave through your body that you’re still reeling from as he repeats your action with truly startling ease. The warm wetness of his tongue has you feeling hot all over, and when it catches against the tip of your own before retreating, you nearly whimper in protest at the loss.

He effortlessly settles into the pattern of give and take, hot brushes of tongues broken up by soft pecks against slick lips. His fingertips dig into your skin like he’s afraid you might slip away into nothing if he doesn’t hold you tight enough and you find your own fingers scraping at his scalp in response.

You’re both making soft little noises between the quiet smack of lips, the leather seats creaking every time your weight shifts in an attempt to get closer.

The lack of oxygen has your head a little fuzzy at the edges when you finally pull back and each of your exhales mingle warmly in the small sliver of space between your mouths as you both fight to catch your breath.

“I, um. I don’t think you have to worry about your kissing technique.” You tell him breathlessly just to break the silence, “You’re all good. A, uh, a great kisser. Eleven out of ten.”

“Cool. Cool. That’s great, I, um-” He coughs quietly, nervously, as he leans back to put a bit more space between you, “Would you maybe want to do it again sometime?”

He’s looking at you with pretty brown eyes blown wide and bleeding earnestness. The hand around your back has fallen to your upper thigh, the grip of it tightening as if punctuating certain words as he speaks. It’s entirely possible that your brain sort-circuits, because a moment of silence passes before he’s barreling on.

“-because I, for one, would really like to do that again sometime. Maybe.. Maybe after a date? Or during a date — that part doesn’t really matter. I just really like you and I have pretty much since forever and now that I’ve kissed you-”

“You like me?” Is all you manage past the heavy thumping of your heart in your chest, your ears — Shit, you’re pretty sure you can feel every pump of it in each trembling twitch of your fingers.

“So much that’s borderline embarrassing, yeah.” He admits, throat bobbing as he swallows nervously.

A breath whooshes past your lips, filled with relief and surprise and elation.

“I like you too.” You say after a beat too long, “Holy shit. Stiles, are you kidding me? I’ve liked you since the fifth grade.”

“Really?” He looks mildly shocked.

A giddy laugh escapes you as you drag him forward again to bring your lips back together. The kiss is chaste, but filled with so much emotion it makes your head swim a bit.

“Damn,” Stiles mutters suddenly, the frustrated curse puffing out against your cheek, “Does that mean we could’ve been doing this the whole time? Like, years of kissing-?”

His words cut off when your lips find his once more and he gives in easily, his train of thought thoroughly derailed.

“I guess we’ve got a lot of time to make up for then, Stilinski.. You up for the challenge?”

Stiles nods wildly and he’s pulling you back in before you can say anything else.

#stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinski #stiles x y/n #stiles x reader #stiles imagine #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles fanfiction #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles fluff #dylan o'brien fanfiction #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf stiles #*#dylan o'brien imagine

2K notes · View notes

sherewrytes · 4 months ago

Text

↳ Toji Fushiguro x f! black reader

REBLOGS HELP ENGAGEMENT

summary. You were always told by your family to stay out of trouble, get your degree, get a good job, and live a good life. Simple rules to follow. You somehow caught the eye of probably the most problematic person in your university but why did it intrigue you to find out more about him.

Toji Zenin/Fushiguro saw you for the first time strolling past him and his friends in front of the university's library. Something about you drew him in. He never saw someone like you before, focused, poised and dedicated to their degree. Always in the library or hanging out with friends, not really partying much. He wondered when curiosity would get the better of him to approach you, but he knew the life he lived would be too problematic for someone as sweet as you.

genre: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, explicit smut, dark romance,

Mafia Au, street racer au, dark romance au

character lookbook

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION

Taglist: (you can comment to be added)

@sparkling-obsidian @queendessi24 @masterofthepp @thedondiva45 @laitifly

Previous Next

Chapter 3: Life of the party

As you, Mei Mei, and Shoko left the roar of the engines and the bright lights of the street race behind, the excitement in the car was palpable. GloRilla's "FNF" pumped through the speakers, a fitting soundtrack to the reckless freedom you all felt. Shoko was in the passenger seat, head bobbing to the beat, while Mei Mei had one hand on the wheel, the other tapping the dashboard in time with the music. Both of them belted out the lyrics, their voices filling the car with a carefree energy that made you laugh despite yourself.

Your mind, though, was already racing ahead, thinking about the party at Choso's place later. The race was fun, but the afterparty was where things really heated up.

“We’re about to shut it down tonight, you know that, right?” Mei Mei said over the music, giving you a sly grin through the rearview mirror.

You smirked back but didn’t respond right away, your eyes flicking down to your phone, scrolling through messages and outfit ideas. You loved a good party as much as anyone, but finding something to wear was always a hassle. As you pulled up to your apartment building, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were going to need something bold tonight. Something different.

“Alright, girls, let’s get ready to kill it,” Shoko said as she hopped out of the car, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “We’ve got about an hour.”

Once inside, the three of you burst through the door and immediately scattered. Shoko and Mei Mei made a beeline for the couch, kicking off their shoes as they cranked the music louder, while you headed straight for your closet, flipping through hangers with a sense of urgency. Every piece of clothing you touched just felt…wrong. Too plain. Not enough. This party's going to be packed, and you needed to stand out. But nothing in your closet was screaming "baddie" right now.

Shoko and Mei Mei were still dancing around, singing along to the playlist as they waited for you to decide.

“Y/N, you’re overthinking it!” Shoko called from the living room. “Just throw on something and let’s go!”

“I don’t want to just throw on anything,” you muttered, more to yourself than to her, still rifling through the hangers.

Suddenly, Mei Mei appeared at your side, eyes narrowing as she assessed your options. Before you could say anything, she shoved you lightly out of the way and pushed aside a few items with practiced ease. Then, with a satisfied smirk, she pulled out a hot pink corset top you hadn’t even considered and held it up to you.

“This. And…” she continued, pulling out a pair of light denim shorts, “…this.”

You stared at the outfit, eyebrows raised. “Mei Mei, you can’t be serious. A corset and shorts? Isn’t that a bit…much?”

She shot you a look that could have cut through glass, her expression dripping with playful exasperation. “In what world is this too much? Certainly not ours.” She tossed the corset at you and pointed towards the mirror. “Trust me. You’ll thank me later.”

You hesitated, but only for a second. She did have a point. The outfit was bold, and the bright pink against the denim would definitely turn heads. Maybe that’s exactly what you needed tonight. With a reluctant grin, you nodded and slipped into the corset, cinching it tight, feeling the fabric hug your curves in all the right places. The denim shorts followed, showing off just enough to be fun but not too revealing. You slipped on the heeled sandals Mei Mei had pulled out earlier and took a step back to admire the final look in the mirror.

Shoko strolled in just then, her sharp gaze scanning your reflection. “Damn, girl, you look hot.”

A hint of a smile tugged at your lips. “You really think so?”

Mei Mei gave a dramatic huff, standing behind you with her hands on her hips. “Of course. I don’t miss.”

With your outfit settled, you turned to the mirror again, touching up your makeup. You brushed on a bit more highlighter, adding a glow to your cheekbones, and then carefully adjusted your lashes to make them pop. A final swipe of gloss over your lips sealed the deal.

“All done,” you announced, stepping back from the mirror to get a full look.

Mei Mei grabbed her purse, nodding in approval. “See? I told you, you’re going to steal the show tonight.”

Shoko grabbed her phone, sending a quick text before looking up with a smirk. “Toji’s gonna lose it when you roll in like this. Let’s go.”

The three of you gathered your things, the energy in the apartment buzzing with anticipation. As you stepped out the door, the cool night air hit your skin, a reminder of the party ahead. You could already hear the bass thumping in your mind, feel the crowd’s pulse, and see the heads turning your way when you made your entrance.

With the outfit decision behind you, the three of you made your way out to Shoko's car. You decided to roll up a quick blunt to smoke on the way to the party

Mei Mei, with her usual confidence, winked at you as she slid into the front passenger seat, claiming it before anyone else had the chance. "It’s going to be a scene, trust me."

You hopped into the back, letting the leather seat mold beneath you as Shoko revved the engine. "Streets" by Doja Cat started playing through the speakers, low at first, the sultry rhythm building. Mei Mei, on aux duty, turned it up with a knowing grin. "This? This is the song."

“Of course you’d pick this one,” you teased, pulling out a blunt from your bag. With a lighter flick, the small flame sparked in the dim interior, and the smell of burning paper filled the car. You took the first drag, the smoke swirling smoothly in your lungs before you exhaled, letting it dance in the air. Rolling down your window slightly, you handed the blunt over to Mei Mei.

“Gotta set the mood, right?” you said, already feeling the edge of excitement start to blur into the warmth from the smoke.

Mei Mei took the blunt from your fingers with a smirk. "You know how to kick things off," she said, taking a slow, deliberate inhale before handing it over to Shoko.

“Hell yeah,” Shoko murmured, briefly taking her eyes off the road to glance at the blunt. She grinned and took a drag, letting the smoke fill her chest before smoothly exhaling through the slightly cracked window. "Y’all are trouble, I swear."

“Trouble’s exactly what we need tonight,” you said, leaning back into your seat as Doja’s voice washed over you. The song’s slow, hypnotic beat seemed to pulse with the mood, blending perfectly with the warmth of the smoke and the feeling of freedom rolling through the open windows.

Mei Mei tossed a playful glance over her shoulder. "Don’t even try to play it safe tonight. We’re making this party unforgettable." She passed the blunt back to you, her eyes glittering with mischief. "And that outfit? Trust me, heads are gonna turn."

You laughed, taking another hit. The familiar burn was comfortable now, sending a wave of calm through you. "Okay, okay, you win. It’s a party, after all."

Shoko adjusted her grip on the steering wheel, leaning forward just a bit, the city lights bouncing off her sharp features. "Y’all better not let me down tonight. I want chaos. Controlled chaos, though," she added with a smirk, letting out a breath of smoke that danced out of her window into the night air.

You reached over, handing the blunt back to her while continuing to sing along with Doja, your voice blending into the lyrics, “…And now I'm stuck in the middle and baby had to pull me out, oh…”

Mei Mei stretched her arms above her head, already vibing to the music. “I’m telling you, Shoko’s car has the best vibe. It's like a pre-party on wheels.”

The streets blurred by as Shoko made a sharp turn, smoothly navigating through the city. The smell of the blunt, the music, and the feeling of being wrapped up in the anticipation of the night ahead made the atmosphere almost electric.

You could feel the energy shifting between the three of you—each hit of the blunt, every beat of the song brought you closer to the night’s adventure. Passing the blunt back and forth felt like a ritual, the perfect lead-in to whatever wildness awaited at Choso’s party.

Mei Mei turned the volume up even louder, the bass thumping through the car. "Listen, when we roll up to this party, I don’t want to see anyone being shy. We’re walking in like we own the place."

Shoko snorted a laugh, holding the blunt between her fingers, eyes half-lidded from the smooth haze. "Girl, with the way we’re gonna look, they’ll think we do."

You leaned forward between the seats, the effects of the blunt slowly wrapping you in its cozy embrace. Mei mei then chimed up "Alright, alright, but first things first—who’s gonna pull Toji out of whatever dark corner he’s brooding in?”

Mei Mei raised a hand casually. "yn will handle that. He’s been acting all mysterious lately—needs a little yn energy to snap out of it." She grinned, then tilted her head towards Shoko . "But I’m counting on you lieri to make sure his friends don’t get all weird. We’re here to vibe, not deal with any drama."

You nodded, already mentally prepping yourself. "Don’t worry. I’ve got this."

The car started to slow down as you neared Choso’s place, the familiar lights of the venue coming into view. Shoko flicked the blunt out the window, a trail of smoke swirling in the wind. “Alright, last call. Y’all ready?”

You, Mei Mei, and Shoko exchanged glances, each of you wearing the same knowing smile. The night was young, and the party was waiting.

"Let’s make this one for the books," you said, adjusting your corset top and getting ready to step out of the car, fully prepared for whatever wildness the night had in store.

As Shoko parked the car on the curb, you could already feel the thrum of the music vibrating under your feet, the bass from Lloyd’s "You" blaring from the open doors of Choso’s place. The house was lit up like a club, neon lights flickering through the windows, and groups of people drifted in and out as if the whole city had shown up for the party.

“This looks like a whole rave,” Mei Mei commented, eyes scanning the large house that stood towering at the end of the street. You couldn’t help but agree—between the pulsing music, flashing lights, and people dressed like they were hitting the hottest club downtown, this was definitely not the typical house party.

As you stepped out of the car, a couple of girls in super short skirts and no tops walked past, laughing loudly as they sashayed up the steps. You, Mei Mei, and Shoko exchanged quick, amused glances, and Shoko let out a low whistle. "Damn, it's that kind of party, then?"

Mei Mei smirked, adjusting her corset. “Guess I was right to go bold with this outfit. I feel practically modest now.” She nudged you with her elbow, eyeing your ensemble. “Girl, you’re gonna make some noise tonight.”

You laughed, smoothing down your light denim shorts. "I was worried it was too much, but now…" You gestured toward the half-naked crowd around you. "I might be underdressed."

Shoko shook her head with a chuckle. “Nah, you look fire. Let’s get inside and see what kind of trouble we can stir up.”

The three of you walked up to the house, already feeling the infectious energy in the air. The front doors were wide open, people spilling in and out, and the lights from inside flashed neon blue and purple, making the whole place look like a club. You could see people dancing just past the entrance, the living room transformed into a makeshift dance floor.

As you stepped inside, you noticed how big the house really was. The ceilings were high, and the entire space was filled with people—some dancing, others lounging on couches with drinks in hand, the scent of alcohol and weed hanging thick in the air. The music thumped, filling every corner of the room.

Your eyes wandered toward the corner where a makeshift bar had been set up, and sure enough, Choso was there, leaning against the counter with a smirk on his face. His younger half-brother, Yuuji, was by his side, handing out shots, and Megumi—Toji’s younger brother—was stacking bottles behind the bar.

Choso spotted the three of you walking over and raised an eyebrow, his eyes quickly scanning you from head to toe. His lips curled into a slow, teasing grin as you approached. "Well, well, well," he drawled, leaning one elbow on the bar. "Look who decided to show up."

You tilted your head, flashing him a playful smile. "And miss out on this? Not a chance."

His eyes lingered on your outfit for a moment longer before he leaned in closer, lowering his voice just enough for you to hear. "Toji’s gonna lose his mind when he sees you tonight."

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you leaned against the bar. "Yeah, right. I’m just here to have a good time."

Choso smirked, leaning back again. "A good time, huh? With that look, you might start a riot." He glanced at Mei Mei and Shoko, who had sidled up next to you. "Y’all came to shut the place down, didn’t you?"

Mei Mei shrugged, feigning innocence. “We can’t help it if people start losing their minds around us.”

Shoko grinned, leaning in as she glanced around the room. “We haven’t even started yet.”

Choso chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. Let’s kick this off right. What’s it gonna be, ladies?”

You grinned. “Shots, obviously. We need to get this night going.”

Choso snapped his fingers at Yuuji, who was already grabbing bottles. “A round of shots for these queens, on me,” he said, flashing you a wink.

As Yuuji poured the drinks, Megumi handed over the shot glasses, his expression stoic as usual, but you caught the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He leaned against the bar, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold.

“Here you go.” Yuuji handed the shots to you, Mei Mei, and Shoko, the drinks glistening in the neon light.

“Let’s toast,” you said, holding your glass up.

“To an unforgettable night,” Shoko added, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she clinked her glass against yours.

Mei Mei raised her shot, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “To being the baddest bitches in the room.”

You all knocked back the shots, the burn of the alcohol sliding smoothly down your throat, instantly warming you up and setting the mood for the night. You could feel the buzz starting to build, the combination of the music, the alcohol, and the electric energy around you fueling the excitement.

“Now that’s how you start a party,” you said, grinning as you set the empty glass down on the counter.

Choso leaned forward, resting his arms on the bar as he studied you for a moment. “You sure you’re ready for this? I’m pretty sure things are gonna get wild.”

Mei Mei laughed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Wild is exactly what we came for.”

Shoko nodded, her expression serious but playful. “We’re here for chaos, controlled chaos. Think you can keep up?”

Choso raised an eyebrow, glancing at Megumi, who gave a subtle shrug. “I mean, we can try.”

“You better,” you teased, winking at Choso before turning to your girls. “Alright, who’s ready to dance?”

Shoko grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the makeshift dance floor. "Let’s see if this party can keep up with us."

Mei Mei followed close behind, her eyes scanning the room with a devilish grin. "Oh, they’re definitely not ready."

You then saw a topless girl walk up to the bar area and grazed her hand against choso's chest and smiled, put something in her mouth then kissed him and mouthed see you later.

Choso laughed and said Well I'm getting it tonight. Your eyes widen and mei mei said lighten up yn. You then asked where is Toji?. Megumi piped up saying "Idk, probably getting his dick sucked somewhere"

Megumi shrugged, completely unfazed. "Just saying."

"Ignore him, Y/N," Yuuji said with an apologetic smile. "Megumi's an ass sometimes."

The music shifted, and "Wanna Be" by GloRilla and Megan Thee Stallion started blasting through the speakers. The beat was infectious, but your mind was somewhere else. You had to find Toji. Maybe it was the drinks loosening your resolve, but something in you needed to know where he was and what he was doing.

“I’m gonna go look for him,” you said, grabbing a cup from the bar and filling it with gin and cranberry juice.

Mei Mei arched an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. Shoko waved you off with a smirk, "Good luck."

With a new drink in hand, you pushed through the crowd, weaving between groups of people dancing, shaking their hips and grinding to the music. The place was wild, people were smoking openly, some had lines of cocaine set up on the tables, and others were sprawled out on couches in various stages of undress.

And then you saw him before he saw you.

Toji was sprawled on a long, blood-red leather couch, looking every bit the king of the scene. He wore a fitted black wife beater that clung to his muscles displaying all his tattoos about his arms and neck, paired with black cargo pants and classic black Timberland boots. His 9mm thick and 24-inch Figaro gold chain glistened in the dim lighting, catching the soft glow of the overhead lights.

Sukuna sat next to him, dressed in his signature style—a tight, sleeveless black shirt that showed off his intricate tattoos and loose gray cargo pants. He had two chains, one shorter and another slightly longer, and his usual cocky expression. Girls draped over him too, one with short blue hair and the other with long, sleek dark hair, both in minimal clothing, clinging to his every word.

Geto sat on the other side of Toji, wearing a dark purple silk button-up shirt, half-unbuttoned to reveal his chest tattoo, paired with tight black jeans and combat boots. He had his hair in a loose ponytail, a look that somehow made him appear both effortlessly cool and utterly unattainable. Two girls were beside him as well, one practically sitting in his lap, while another twirled her fingers through his long hair.

But it was Toji who held your attention.

There were two girls all over him, one with a tight, slinky black dress draped against his chest, her hand sliding down his shoulder to his arm, while another was perched on his lap, fingers lightly tracing over his abs. You felt your stomach flip, jealousy twisting inside of you in a way you hadn’t anticipated. You thought he was better than this, at least.

One of the girls lit a joint and held it to Toji’s lips. He took a slow, deep drag, exhaling the smoke lazily. Just as you were about to look away, Sukuna nudged him, and suddenly, Toji’s eyes locked onto yours.

Toji’s POV

Toji sat back on the blood-red leather couch, feeling the weight of the night settle over him like a familiar blanket. He loved this—feeling like a king, girls surrounding him, the low murmur of voices and laughter blending with the heavy bass of the music. Sukuna and Geto were on either side of him, and for once, he didn’t care about much. He never really did, not since Y/N.

He glanced at the two girls draped over him— Rain and Reina, Twins of course. They were his usual, girls who knew how to play the part, never expecting more than what he was willing to give. He wasn’t sure why he had them around tonight, maybe out of boredom or just because that’s what people expected him to do. He barely registered their touches, his mind elsewhere, lost in thoughts he didn’t care to admit to himself.

Sukuna, with his usual smirk, leaned in to talk about the race earlier in the night. “I’m collecting Hiromi’s car first thing tomorrow for you, just to piss him off,” Sukuna said with a laugh, his eyes flashing with mischief.

Toji chuckled darkly. “Yeah, he won’t know what hit him.” He took a deep drag of the joint Reina held up to his lips, the smoke filling his lungs and clouding his thoughts for a brief moment.

It was the same routine—women, weed, sex, violence and a bit of daily chaos—but it never felt the same anymore. Not since Y/N had walked out of his life. He didn’t even understand why he kept these girls around. Rain was pressing her chest against him, and Reina’s hands were on his abs, but none of it stirred him the way Y/N used to. He shook off the thought, focusing back on his conversation with Sukuna.

But then, Sukuna nudged him. “Yo, check it,” Sukuna murmured, nodding toward the crowd.

Toji followed his gaze and locked eyes with you, standing across the room, holding a cup in your hand and looking like you were ready to either kill him or turn around and walk out.

His heart stopped for a second. You were the last person he expected to see him like this, but fuck, did you look good. He could see the subtle jealousy in your eyes as you looked at the girls on his lap, and something about that ignited a spark in him.

He kept his expression neutral as he took the joint from Reina, his grip on the joint tightened slightly. He had no idea what you were about to do, but for the first time tonight, he actually cared about something.

Toji sat up straighter on the couch when he saw the disgust in your eyes. That flash of anger—it did something to him. The way you stared at him with a mix of betrayal and fury, though, hit him differently tonight. It gnawed at his chest, pulling him out of the haze he’d been floating in all night.

Sukuna, ever the instigator, chuckled darkly beside him, elbowing Toji lightly. “Oh, you’re fucked, man,” he muttered with a smirk. “She does not look happy to see you with Reina and Rain.”

Toji exhaled sharply, a whistle-like sigh escaping his lips as he watched you standing there, frozen for a second. His heart clenched when you turned to walk away, thinking you were done with him for good. But just as he felt that familiar ache, you whipped back around, storming toward him with fire in your eyes.

Here we go, Toji thought, bracing himself.

Geto, who had been quiet up until now, leaned back on the couch with a wide grin, clearly entertained. “This is gonna be good,” he drawled, sipping his drink like it was the best show of the night.

Before Toji could even get a word out, you were standing in front of him, glaring down at the girls who hadn’t even bothered to move from his lap.

“What the fuck is this?” you snapped, pointing at Reina and Rain like they were nothing more than an annoyance.

The twins, clearly unfazed, exchanged glances and then looked you up and down with an air of dismissal. Reina, the one pressed against Toji’s chest, lazily flicked her hair back and smirked. “Who is she?” she asked in a sultry tone, not even trying to hide her disdain.

“You’re blocking the view,” Rain added, a bored look on her face as she shifted slightly in Toji’s lap, making herself more comfortable.

Toji’s jaw tightened. This was spiraling quickly, and he knew how bad it looked. But you weren’t just some girl—you mattered. More than he wanted to admit.

You gave them a tight-lipped smile, but your eyes were full of venom. You stared down at the cup in your hand, swirling the liquid inside with a calculating look. For a brief second, Toji could see the exact moment when you decided to act.

You started to tilt the cup toward Reina, but before you could pour it on them, Toji’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, stopping you. His grip was firm, but not rough. He wasn’t going to let you go through with it.

“Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice low and steady. “It isn’t what it looks like.”

Your eyes flashed with anger, disbelief. “Oh, really?” you bit back. “Because it sure looks like you’re sitting here with your some fuck ass hoes on your lap while I was invited here to look like a damn fool.”

Toji’s heart pounded. He didn’t care about Reina or Rain, not the way he cared about you. They were just... there, filling the space, keeping up the appearance he thought he needed to maintain. But you—you were different. He didn’t even know why he let things get this far.

Reina shifted, clearly feeling the tension, but still not backing down. “What’s the big deal?” she murmured. “We’ve always been around.”

You shot her a look so sharp it could cut through steel. “That’s about to change.”

Toji released your wrist slowly, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what to say next. He couldn’t just let you walk away.

“Y/N,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his tone more serious. “I don’t care about them. You know that.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Could’ve fooled me, Toji. This is the shit you choose? Over me?”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling inside him. He wasn’t good with words, never had been. But he knew he had to say something to stop you from walking out the door for good.

“I’ve been an idiot,” he admitted, his voice gruff but honest. “But this? It doesn’t mean anything.”

The tension between you and the twins was thick enough to cut with a knife, but Toji didn’t let them distract him. His focus was on you, the only person in the room who mattered to him.

You glared at Toji, your anger flaring like wildfire. “It doesn’t mean anything. Don’t... don’t piss me off, Toji. Don’t play me for an ass.”

Your voice was steady but low, each word laced with a fierce determination to stand your ground. “Anyway, I came here to enjoy myself, so fuck this shit and fuck you too…”

Toji watched as you stormed off, his heart sinking with every step you took away from him. He closed his eyes, counting to ten in an attempt to calm the storm brewing inside him. The tension in his chest felt like a vice grip, squeezing tighter with each passing second.

When he finally opened his eyes, he pushed Rain and Reina off his lap, both girls exchanging confused glances as they stumbled slightly. “What the hell?” Rain muttered, but Toji didn’t have time to explain. He needed to find you.

The party was loud, pulsating with energy, but his focus was singular. He scanned the crowd, weaving between groups of people dancing, laughing, and drinking. And then he saw you.

You were at the DJ booth, looking carefree, your laughter blending with the thumping bass of the music. Gojo stood next to you, casually leaning against the booth, dressed in a fitted white tee that hugged his muscular frame perfectly, paired with distressed black jeans that hung low on his hips. His signature style—a silver chain glinting in the dim light—added to his laid-back allure.

You were surrounded by Choso, Mei Mei, Shoko, Megumi, and Yuuji. The group radiated an easy camaraderie that made Toji’s stomach twist.

Your eyes were slightly red, a telltale sign of the blunt rotation that had been going on. It was as if you were trying to forget the chaos that had just unfolded between the two of you.

Toji approached, but you didn’t even glance in his direction. He felt a simmering frustration rise within him. Why were you ignoring him?

“Y/N,” he called, trying to catch your eye. The music pulsed around them, Les by Childish Gambino thumping throughout the party. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him. But you turned your back, engaging in conversation with Gojo, who leaned closer, laughing at something you said.

Toji clenched his fists, resisting the urge to storm over and yank you away from him. He didn’t want to come off as jealous, but the sight of you with Gojo stirred something dark within him—an urge to claim what was his.

Choso caught sight of Toji, a knowing look passing between them. “You good, man?” he asked, his tone serious but with a hint of humor.

“Not really,” Toji replied through gritted teeth, his eyes fixed on you. “I need to talk to her.”

Megumi chimed in, “You better make it good. She looks ready to snap.”

Toji nodded, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He walked closer, his heart racing, trying to push through the crowd and reach you. But each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of his actions pressing down on him like a lead blanket.

Finally, he stood in front of you, eyes locked onto yours, trying to break through the haze of smoke and laughter that surrounded you. “Y/N,” he said again, his voice low and intense, cutting through the noise.

You turned to face him, a flicker of defiance in your eyes. “What do you want, Toji?”

“I want to talk,” he said, his tone more forceful now. “I don’t want to fight. Just give me a minute.”

You crossed your arms, your expression challenging. “Why should I? You’ve made it pretty clear you’re too busy for me.”

Gojo, sensing the tension, took a small step back, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “This looks like a soap opera. Are we getting popcorn?”

Toji shot him a glare, but it didn’t break his focus on you. He took a step closer, lowering his voice to a near whisper, his expression darkening. “I’m not letting you walk away from me like this, Y/N. I care, even if I’m a mess sometimes. Just listen to me for a second.”

Your gaze flickered, something shifting in your expression. For a moment, he thought he saw a crack in your armor, a glimmer of the bond you once shared. But then you hardened again, your resolve fortifying itself against the storm brewing between you.

“Fine,” you said, your voice steely. “But make it quick. I’m not wasting my night on you.”

Toji could feel the weight of your words hanging in the air, thick with unspoken emotions.

He leaned in closer, his voice low and rough, “Just know, I’m not letting you go that easily.”

You felt Toji’s hand on your arm as he pulled you away from the chaotic noise of the party, guiding you through the throng of bodies until you reached a quieter space upstairs on the rooftop of the house. The music thumped faintly below, and the dim lighting cast shadows across his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice low and earnest, “I know how that looked. It’s... it’s just how things are in my world.”

You crossed your arms, rolling your eyes as frustration boiled within you. “Spew that bullshit to someone else, Toji. I’m not in the mood for your excuses.”

He sighed, stepping closer, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine despite your anger. “It’s... just for the image,” he insisted, as if that explanation could justify everything.

“Image?” you raised your voice, unable to contain the heat surging through you. “If that’s your life, then cool. But you can’t be eyeing me up all over campus and then have me see you like that! It’s fucking bullshit, Toji. You knew Choso invited me and my friends here tonight… the fuck are you on? Crack or something?”

The frustration in your voice hung in the air, thick and charged. Toji’s expression shifted, and you could see the storm brewing behind his eyes. It was the kind of look that made your heart race, even as your anger simmered.

“I’m not—” he began, but you cut him off, your voice rising with each word.

“You’re not what? Just some guy who can act like a king with girls all over him? That’s exactly what it looks like, Toji! You’re out here living your best life while I’m sitting there, feeling like a fool.”

His frustration matched yours, and the air crackled between you like a live wire. “You don’t understand!” he shot back, his voice rising just enough to match your own. “I have a reputation to maintain, and certain things...there's certain i just have to do. The people I be...the people anyway—they don’t give a shit about who I care about! They don’t know about you!”

The defensiveness in his tone only fueled your anger. “Then why the hell did even let Choso invite me here? Was this all a game to you? Just another girl to add to your collection?” You couldn’t help the bitterness creeping into your voice, each word feeling like a dagger aimed straight at him.

He stepped closer, closing the distance between you until the heat radiating off his body enveloped you. “It’s not a game, Y/N,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent chills down your spine. “You’re not just another girl to me. You’re—”

“—what?” you interrupted, daring him to finish his thought. Your heart pounded, and for a moment, you were caught between anger and the undeniable pull you felt toward him. “What am I, Toji?”

“Everything,” he said, his eyes boring into yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re everything I shouldn’t want but can’t seem to let go of.”

A silence fell between you, heavy and suffocating, filled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. You could feel the tension thrumming in the air, a mixture of frustration and something deeper that neither of you wanted to admit.

“I don’t want to be your dirty little secret,” you said, your voice quieter but no less fierce. “I deserve better than that, Toji.”

His expression softened, and he reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re right. You do deserve better. But I’m not the guy who knows how to give you that.”

“Then what are you?” you asked, your heart racing as his fingers lingered against your skin, the intimacy of the moment making it harder to stay angry. “Because right now, it just feels like you’re playing games.”

He hesitated, and in that brief silence, you could see the battle within him, the conflict between the man you cared about and the image he felt forced to maintain. “I’m trying to figure it all out,” he finally admitted, his voice low. “I’m caught between two worlds, and I don’t know how to balance it. But I’m not willing to let you go. Not now, not ever.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling into your chest, a mix of anger and longing swirling within you. “Then stop being that guy, Toji. Stop playing into the image. Just be real with me.”

The moment hung in the air, thick with anticipation and unresolved emotions. He was so close now, you could feel the heat radiating off his body, and every instinct in you screamed to close the distance and bridge the gap between anger and desire.

“I’ll try, but I got obligations and shit” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours for understanding. “But you have to meet me halfway.”

You nodded, the tension between you shifting, morphing into something more complicated. “I’ll think about it, but you better figure your shit out before I decide to walk away for good.”

Toji smirked, a glimmer of his usual confidence returning. “You really think you can walk away from me that easily?”

"Yes, I can walk away, Toji,” you said frankly, your heart racing despite the cool facade you tried to maintain.

His expression shifted, a challenge sparking in his eyes as he pulled you closer, the heat radiating off him enveloping you. He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Do it, Y/N. I dare you to walk away from this…” His voice dropped lower, deeper, thick with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “From me.”

A rush of emotions surged within you—anger, desire, confusion—all swirling together in a whirlwind. You could feel the pulse of the music below, a distant reminder of the chaos outside this moment, but right now, all that mattered was the way he was looking at you.

“Why do....why are you doing this?” you breathed, fighting the urge to lean into him. “Why do you keep pulling me in and pushing me away?”

“Because I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, his lips so close you could almost taste the words. “I want you, … but there is a lot that can complicate everything.”

His eyes bore into yours, raw and vulnerable, and for a fleeting moment, you could see the man behind the bravado, the one who was just as scared as you were. “But I don’t want to lose you,” he continued, his grip on your waist tightening as if he were afraid you might slip away.

Your heart raced at his confession, the tension between you thickening like a charged current. “Then stop acting like you don’t care. Stop letting those girls drape all over you,” you challenged, trying to sound strong, but your voice wavered slightly, betraying your own vulnerability.

Toji’s gaze darkened, a flicker of anger flashing in his eyes. “You think it’s that easy? You think I’m doing it because I want to? It’s all part of the image, Y/N. It's what my world is like.”

“Then change it!” you shot back, frustration boiling over. “You don’t have to play that role! Just be honest with me, with yourself, If you want me, then stop pretending you’re something you’re not.”

He stared at you, the weight of your words settling in the air between you. “And if I did that?” he asked, his voice low and intense. “What if I told you I wanted to be with you? That I’d choose you over all of this?”

The intensity in his gaze made your heart race, and you felt a mix of hope and fear swirling within you. “Then show me,” you challenged, your voice steady. “Show me that you mean it, and maybe I won’t walk away.”

For a moment, silence enveloped you both, the world outside fading into the background as the unspoken tension hung thick in the air. You could feel the weight of the moment, a decision teetering on the edge of something monumental.

“Okay,” he said finally, his voice low but filled with determination. “I will. Just… don’t walk away yet.”

Toji leaned in closer, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body, the urgency of the moment igniting something deep within you. The way he looked at you made your heart race, and before you could second-guess yourself, you closed the gap, your lips barely brushing against his in a tentative kiss.

The moment his lips met yours, the world around you exploded into color. All the anger and frustration melted away, replaced by an intoxicating rush of desire and longing. Toji deepened the kiss, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you even closer, as if trying to erase the distance that had separated you for so long.

As you kissed him, you felt a wave of relief wash over you, as if all the barriers you had built up were finally crumbling. It was messy and heated, the tension that had built between you igniting into a blaze that consumed everything in its path.

But just as quickly as it had begun, the kiss broke, leaving you both breathless and wide-eyed, the reality of the situation crashing back down around you. You could see the conflict in his gaze, the weight of his world pressing down on him even as he held you close.

“What are we doing, Toji?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, heart pounding in your chest as the adrenaline from the kiss still coursed through your veins.

He leaned his forehead against yours, breathing heavily, his eyes searching yours. “I don’t know,” he admitted, the vulnerability in his voice making your heart ache. “But I’m willing to figure it out if you are.”

A part of you wanted to scream and pull away, to protect yourself from the messiness that was Toji’s life. But another part, the one that craved him and the connection you both are building and sharing, pushing you to take the leap.

“Then let’s figure it out together,” you said softly, a hint of determination threading through your words. You felt the tension shift, morphing into something deeper, a promise of what was to come.

Toji nodded, a small smile breaking through the heaviness in his eyes. “Together,” he echoed, his voice steady, as he pulled you closer once more, sealing the unspoken promise with another kiss.

You could taste the smoke on his breath mingled with the remnants of alcohol, a heady combination that sent your heart racing. Toji’s gaze roamed over you, dark and hungry, and you could feel the heat of his stare igniting every nerve in your body.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathed, his voice a low rumble as he bit his lip, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You look…”

He trailed off, his words hanging in the air, thick with desire. You could feel your cheeks flush under his intense scrutiny, your heart pounding in your chest as anticipation hung between you.

Without breaking eye contact, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, his fingers deftly rolling it between his hands. You watched as he lit it, taking a long drag before exhaling slowly, the smoke curling around him in lazy tendrils. He was trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside him, but all it did was draw your attention to his lips, still glistening from your kiss.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, a mix of curiosity and something deeper as you took a step closer, the air thick with tension.

“Just trying to keep it together,” he replied, his gaze flicking back to you, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

You swallowed hard, heart racing at his admission. “Maybe I do,” you shot back, a teasing edge to your voice, even as you felt your own desire rising.

“Yeah?” He leaned in closer, the space between you shrinking as he exhaled another puff of smoke, and you could feel the heat radiating off him. “Then you know this isn’t just a game for me. I mean it, Y/N.”

Toji pulled Y/n close, the space between them vanishing in an instant as his strong arm wrapped around her waist. The scent of smoke and leather clung to him, intoxicating and rough around the edges, just like the man himself. His breath was warm against her ear as he leaned in, his voice low and almost dangerous, “Tell me about yourself, Y/n. Any and everything. Don’t hold back.”

Y/n could feel the heat radiating from his body, her own pulse quickening as she tried to steady her thoughts. This was Toji Zenin—tattooed, mysterious, and notoriously private—yet here he was, demanding pieces of her as if he had every right to them.

She cleared her throat, struggling to keep her voice steady. “I’m an architecture major… interior design too. I like to create things, see how spaces can transform. It’s about balance—how the right details can bring everything together.”

Toji’s lips curled into a slow, approving smile, the glint in his eyes darkening with interest. “Balance, huh?” he mused, his fingers now lightly tracing along the small of her back, sending electric currents through her skin. “Sounds like you’ve got a vision. I can respect that.”

His touch was light, teasing, but Y/n could sense the power behind it. The tattoos that laced his arms and crept up his neck were a map of stories she had yet to uncover. Her eyes drifted to the ink, unable to help herself, the detailed designs seeming to shift and move with every breath he took.

“What about music?” he asked, breaking her from her trance. His voice was casual, but there was a deeper edge to it, like he was testing her. “What kind of stuff do you listen to?”

Y/n smirked a little, leaning back slightly to catch his gaze. “R&B mostly… but punk rock too. Depends on my mood, really.”

Toji’s smile widened, his thumb brushing over her waist as he drew her back in, closer than before. “Didn’t peg you for a punk rock girl, but I like surprises.” His eyes raked over her, studying every inch. “You’ve got more layers than I thought.”

Y/n’s heart pounded in her chest, caught between fascination and the undeniable pull she felt toward him. “I guess I’m not what most people expect,” she said, trying to keep her tone light, but even she could feel the weight of their proximity.

“And I like that,” Toji murmured, his voice dropping lower, his lips now grazing the shell of her ear. “But I’m curious about something else…” He paused, the playful glint in his eyes returning. “You’ve got a weakness for tatted men, don’t you?”

The question hit her like a punch to the gut. She froze for a moment, her mind scrambling for a reply, but the way his fingers gripped her waist—possessive and knowing—told her that he already knew the answer. Her silence was all the confirmation he needed.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, vibrating against her skin. “I can tell,” he said, amused and confident. “The way you keep staring at mine…” His free hand lifted, trailing up her arm, his fingertips ghosting over her bare skin. “You like it, don’t you?”

Y/n’s breath hitched, her body betraying her composure as a surge of heat rushed through her. She knew she should say something, anything, to maintain control of the situation—but it was slipping, and fast.

Toji’s grip on her waist tightened, his lips now brushing the curve of her neck, his breath sending shivers down her spine. “What else, Y/n? What else do you have a weakness for?” His voice was smooth but carried a sharp edge, daring her to reveal more. “Tell me. I want to know everything. I want to see how weak I can make you for me.”

Her mind swirled, torn between the urge to pull away and the thrill of letting him draw her deeper. “I don’t… I don’t think you could handle everything,” she whispered, her voice shaky but holding a hint of defiance.

Toji smirked against her skin, his lips pressing a firm kiss to the crook of her neck. “I think you underestimate me, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dark and filled with promise. He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his eyes locking with hers, intense and unyielding. “You have no idea how far I’m willing to go.”

Y/n swallowed hard, her thoughts racing. There was something dangerous about him, something she couldn’t quite place. He wasn’t just the tatted-up, confident guy who hung out with Sukuna and Geto. There was something darker beneath the surface, something that called to her curiosity—and her instincts to run.

“What are you hiding?” she asked, the question slipping out before she could stop it.

Toji’s expression shifted, his smile fading just slightly. “Everyone’s got secrets, Y/n. Some just run deeper than others.” His hand remained firmly on her waist, holding her in place as he spoke. “But don’t worry… mine won’t hurt you.” His voice lowered, the intensity in his gaze returning. “Unless you want them to.”

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. There was a fine line between danger and desire—and Toji Zenin was balancing on the edge of both.

As Y/n leaned into the intensity of Toji’s gaze, fully caught up in the moment, the air between them was suddenly interrupted by the sound of footsteps and a familiar voice shouting from across the room.

“Toji! Oi, where the hell are you?” Sukuna’s voice rang out, breaking the tension.

Toji’s jaw clenched in irritation, but he didn’t let go of Y/n, his grip on her waist staying firm. His focus never wavered, his dark eyes still locked on hers. Y/n was about to speak, but before she could, Sukuna strolled into view, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of them—cozying up alone. A slow, knowing smirk tugged at Sukuna’s lips.

“Well, well, well,” Sukuna drawled, his tattooed arms crossing over his chest as he sauntered closer. “Looks like someone’s keeping themselves busy.”

Before Sukuna could tease or warn Toji about whatever was coming, the atmosphere shifted again. This time, the voice that rang out wasn’t Sukuna’s.

“Hey there, nephew.”

Toji instantly stiffened. The voice alone made his entire body tense. Slowly, he released Y/n, though his hand lingered just a second longer on her waist than necessary, as if he didn’t want to let her go. He shot Sukuna a look—one that silently told him everything. Watch her.

Y/n blinked in confusion, feeling the sudden shift in Toji’s demeanor. She turned her head slightly, following his gaze. That’s when she saw him—a man standing near the stairs, tall and imposing, with a sharp suit that screamed power. His eyes, cold and calculating, flickered over to Y/n before returning to Toji.

It was his uncle. The man who owned the mechanic shop where Toji worked part-time. The same man who held a far more dangerous title behind closed doors—head of the Zenin Mafia. A public secret, whispered about but never confirmed. Y/n, of course, had no idea.

Toji walked over to his uncle with measured steps, his body language shifting completely. Gone was the casual, teasing guy who had been flirting with Y/n just moments before. In his place was someone harder, someone colder.

As Toji approached, his uncle’s gaze lingered on Y/n for a brief moment before turning back to him, a sly smile curling his lips. “And who is she?” his uncle asked, his tone sharp, though there was something almost amused behind it.

Toji didn’t falter. His voice was flat, calm. “No one important, uncle.”

Y/n couldn’t hear their conversation from where she stood, but she could feel the weight of it. She glanced over at Sukuna, who had casually taken her side, leaning against a nearby wall, his gaze sharp and alert. His usual smirk was nowhere to be seen.

Toji’s uncle let out a laugh that echoed through the room. “No one important? Could’ve fooled me.” He turned slightly, looking back at Toji with a raised brow. “You’re needed tonight, boy. I thought I’d give you the heads-up.”

Toji’s eyes narrowed, his annoyance barely hidden. “I thought I had the night off,” he said, his voice carrying a subtle bite.

His uncle’s smile grew wider, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “There’s no night off when you’re in the position you’re in, nephew. You know that.” His voice dropped lower, more menacing. “You’ll be taking over for me one day. There’s no rest in that.”

Toji’s face remained expressionless, but Y/n could sense the tension between them. She didn’t understand what they were talking about, but the weight of their conversation made her stomach churn.

His uncle gave him a pat on the shoulder, though the gesture felt anything but comforting. “But don’t worry, we’ve got a little job for you tonight. Something easy. You’ll want to handle this one personally.”

Toji’s jaw tightened, his eyes flickering over to Y/n for the briefest moment before he responded. “Fine. I’ll be there.”

His uncle’s grin returned, but there was something sinister behind it. “Good. Don’t keep us waiting.” With that, he turned and began descending the stairs, leaving Toji standing there, tension radiating from his every move.

Y/n’s gaze met Toji’s across the room, and for a split second, she saw something flicker in his eyes—something torn between the life he lived and the one he might’ve wanted. But before she could ask, Sukuna cleared his throat beside her, casually resting a hand on her shoulder.

“Well, guess it’s time for me to babysit, huh?” Sukuna said with a grin, though his tone was layered with an edge of seriousness.

Toji finally walked back over, his face a mask of calm, though Y/n could feel the storm brewing beneath. He leaned in close again, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “Stay with Sukuna for a bit. I’ll be back.”

Before she could protest or ask what was going on, Toji was already gone, walking into the night to handle business she couldn’t even begin to understand.

Y/n stood frozen for a moment, her mind spinning. The casual, yet commanding way Toji had whispered those words left a chill running down her spine. She glanced up at Sukuna, who gave her a lazy smile, but there was something unspoken behind his eyes.

“Don’t worry, princess,” Sukuna muttered, lighting up a cigarette and exhaling the smoke lazily. “Toji knows what he’s doing.” He paused, taking a deep drag before lowering his voice. “He always does.”

Y/n frowned, trying to push down the uneasy feeling creeping up her chest. She had known there was more to Toji than just his mysterious, bad-boy exterior, but the scene she just witnessed was something else entirely. The way his uncle commanded the room, the way Toji slipped effortlessly into that cold, unfeeling persona… it felt like she had stepped into a different world. One she wasn’t sure she wanted to be part of.

But then again, it wasn’t like Toji had ever told her much about himself. He kept things close to the chest, always avoiding any conversation that dipped too deeply into his personal life. And yet, she couldn’t deny the pull he had on her. Something about the danger, the mystery—it was intoxicating.

She let out a sigh and crossed her arms over her chest. “What does Toji do, exactly?” she finally asked, not really expecting Sukuna to give her a straight answer.

Sukuna smirked, his eyes narrowing as he exhaled another puff of smoke. “What do you think?” he asked, his voice teasing. “He’s a man of many talents. You’ve seen that firsthand.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the curiosity gnawing at her. “It’s not just cars and school, is it?” she pressed, her voice soft but firm.

Sukuna let out a low chuckle, his eyes glinting with amusement. “You’ve got sharp instincts, huh?” He leaned back against the wall, looking at her with a mixture of approval and something else, something darker. “But some things are better left unsaid, Y/n.”

His words didn’t reassure her. If anything, they only deepened the unease she felt. But just as she was about to push further, Sukuna’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen before his expression shifted, growing serious. He tucked the phone back into his jacket, pushing himself off the wall.

“Well, looks like I’ve gotta handle something too,” Sukuna said, his tone more businesslike now. He tossed the cigarette aside, crushing it beneath his boot. “Don’t wander off, yeah? Toji will be back soon. You can wait here or head back down to the party. your choice." Sukuna gave you a once over "Maybe you should chill up here before Toji has to....anyway see you around."

Before Y/n could ask him anything more, Sukuna gave her one last glance—something almost protective behind the way he looked at her—and then he disappeared down the stairs, leaving her alone on the rooftop.

Y/n stood there for a moment, staring after him, feeling more lost than ever. What had she gotten herself into? She thought back to when she first saw Toji, leaning against the wall outside the library, casually smoking with Sukuna and the others, his tattooed arms on full display. She hadn’t known anything about him then, but even then, she had felt drawn to him—like a moth to a flame.

Now, that fire seemed even more dangerous.

You deciced to stay upstairs and watch the throng of bodies walk in and out of the house and around the large yard, party, do drugs and just live. You pulled out your phone and scrolled tik tok trying to piece together everything that happened so far. It was almost 2 hours later. The party still lively just as when you arrived, you decided to finally head back down to enjoy the rest of the party since you weren''t sure when Toji or Sukuna would return and you're started to feel weirdly stood up.

Suddenly Toji finally returned, the air around him was even more intense. His face was shadowed, jaw clenched as if he were still carrying the weight of whatever conversation he had just had with his uncle, or maybe something else. He barely glanced at her as he came closer, his hand moving to her lower back to guide her away from the rooftop’s edge.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice low but firm.

Y/n hesitated for a split second, but the intensity in his eyes made it clear this wasn’t the time to argue. She followed him down the stairs, into the dimly lit streets, her mind racing with questions. What was he involved in? Why did his uncle have such control over him? And why did Toji, who seemed so set on carving his own path with his studies and passion for cars, still have one foot stuck in something so dark?

They walked in silence leaving the party, until they reached the mechanic shop where Toji worked. It was closed for the night, but he had a key, unlocking the door with ease and leading her inside. The smell of oil and metal filled the air, and Y/n watched as Toji seemed to relax slightly in the familiar surroundings. This place was his sanctuary, away from whatever pressures his family imposed on him.

He lit a cigarette, taking a long drag before turning to face her. The shadows from the overhead lights danced across his face, highlighting the scar on the left side of his lips. His tattoos peeked from under the sleeves of his shirt, and Y/n’s gaze lingered on the ink, a reminder of the danger that seemed to cling to him.

“Toji…” she started, unsure of how to begin. “What’s going on? What are you involved in?”

He looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he stepped closer, his hand moving to tilt her chin up so that she was forced to meet his gaze.

“Don’t worry about it, Y/n,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with smoke slowly easing out of his mouth while he talked “You don’t need to know all the details. Just know that I’ve got things handled.”

His words should’ve reassured her, but they didn’t. Instead, they left her feeling even more uncertain. She opened her mouth to argue, to demand answers, but Toji silenced her with a kiss—rough and demanding, leaving no room for protest.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against hers, his breath warm against her skin. “Trust me, Y/n,” he whispered. “I’ll keep you safe. You don’t need to worry about anything else.”

But even as he said the words, Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that she was stepping deeper into something far more dangerous than she ever could’ve imagined.

#fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu toji #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji fushiguro smut #toji x black y/n #toji x black reader #black!fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x fem reader #sherewrytes #modernaujjk

133 notes · View notes

sunshine-bones · 2 years ago

Text

🌻 Actual tips for edtwt 🌻

🌻 Reblogs aren't the same thing as retweets. Post ''threads'' exist, but it's rare to have one person reblog their own post.

🌻 DMing people without asking is normally pretty rude, and not a lot of people are familiar with the DM system on here (called messaging) - there's been a lot of creeps on here in the past, so be cautious in messages.

🌻 People post their general thoughts in tags, so where you'd retweet and write your thoughts in the tweet then add hashtags - here it all happens in tags.

🌻 Most people have their intros and stats either in their bios or as their pinned post - the ''unpinning at x weight'' trend doesn't really exist here.

🌻 On desktop, you can customise your blog and add your own code, themes ect. it's really fun and a good time killer, but be aware all blogs look the same on mobile.

🌻 A bunch of features (search, post archiving ect.) have been broken for years. Don't worry, it isn't just you.

🌻 ED tags change every so often, but ''edblr'' has been the main tag for YEARS now. If you ever get lost, searching that and then clicking around will help you find active tags. The blue butterfly emoji has also been a backup tag for a while now, but the whole ''ricecaketwt'' ''lemonwatertwt'' thing doesn't have a tumblr equivalent.

🌻 If you click the three dots on the side of a post, you can see what date and time the post was made - it's perfectly normal here to reblog, like and respond to old posts.

🌻 Posting pictures of s/h is okay, but please make sure it's tagged properly. Tumblr has it's own tagging system, but it has to have a trigger warning for that to work.

🌻 If you're on desktop, downloading XKit rewritten is a massive time saver - it allows you to automatically add tags, blur out pics (eg thinspo) so you need to click on them, and a bunch of other useful things.

🌻 ''Thinspo imagines'' exist on here, which are basically short stories about what it would be like to be at your UGW in various situations. They're tagged as such, and some of them can be a little cheesy, but still really cute and often motivating.

🌻 For male anas and ftm/transmasc anas, the tags for that are as follows ''trans ana'' ''ftm ana'' ''male ana'' ''nb ana'' ''malespo/malesp0'' - pretty self explanatory.

🌻 There's no word count, but if you're writing a really long post, it's normally good manners to put a ''read more'', just so it doesn't clog up people's dashboards.

🌻 The concept of moots doesn't really exist - there are mutuals, but it's a lot more casual and there's no expectation for you to actually interact with your mutuals personally, aside from liking and reblogging some of their posts.

Last of all, have fun guys! This is a terrible disorder but we're all trying to get through it as best we can. Stay away from people who try and be creeps, give dangerous advice, or condescend you for coming from a different platform. Be safe and feel free to ask any questions you might have 🌻

#Thinspo #tw ed #I wanna be weightless #edtwt #edblr #edblrr #ed no sheeran #thinsp0 #ana #tw ana diary #ed diary #4na #4n4 #malespo #male ana #ftm ana

2K notes · View notes

labs · 1 year ago

Text

Hello again, Labs here with a recap of our test of Collections! We introduced this prototype back in September and then handed the feature to a handful of volunteers sourced from the notes on that post. Thank you again to all volunteers!

We got so much useful feedback, and wanted to share some of that here, and reveal some next steps we’re taking. There are a couple of big projects cooking in Labs, and Collections has taken a backseat lately, but it is important to us to not leave y’all hanging. We very much want to build things with you here.

Our goal with the volunteer-based super-early phase of Collections was to see if those volunteers actually use the feature, watch what they come up with, and check whether anybody they invite to Tumblr signs up and becomes a regular user of the site. Turns out, nobody did sign up — it’s not as useful of an onboarding strategy as we thought it could be.

However, one piece of feedback we got is that Collections make great custom feeds, which people on Tumblr have been asking for a lot over the years. We hear you loud and clear: you want to supplement the standard Following / For You experience with more intentional control over feed content. That’s really important to us.

With that in mind, for those in the prototype, we’ve moved the Collections list to the left sidebar / mobile navigation as an expandable area like Account, for quick access. We like this better than putting them in the dashboard tab bar, but it’s still something we’re mulling over:

We also heard the need for more filtering options beyond just blogs and tags. What about only including a blog’s posts that use a certain tag, or excluding posts using a certain tag? Or list tags with a boolean AND operator (“posts tagged [tag] and [other tag]”), not just the OR operator we’re using now for sourcing tagged posts. Lots of ideas on how to further customize what shows up in the feed, and better define what the feed is “for”.

There were other fun, tangential bits of feedback, too, like the desire to make these Collections a collaborative feature, so that more than one person can help build a Collection. There were also several usability issues that came to the forefront, which we’ve addressed. And there were some well-articulated thoughts and questions about etiquette, such as how to seek a blog’s “permission” to be included in a Collection – that’s something we care a lot about, to help prevent this kind of feature from being a source of abuse.

Another piece of feedback we heard repeatedly is the desire for Collections of posts. This is not really what we intended with what we built, but it’s not too far afield either. We totally agree that having better, easier ways of collecting and curating individual posts would be useful, so we’re going to investigate that as a separate project.

With all of this in mind, we’ve split the work on Collections into two separate tracks:

Shaping this feature as a “customizable feeds” solution, away from an “invite others” tool.

Building a new thing for saving and curating static posts.

Stay tuned here on the Labs blog for updates on when/if we’ll be moving these Collections tracks of work to more people on Tumblr. (If you are one of the volunteers who helped us with Collections, you’ll still have access to it for the time being!)

Thanks for reading! And please reach out to us via Support, the replies here, or your reblogs, if you have any more feedback, as always.

#tumblr labs #collections

783 notes · View notes

thetriumphantpanda · 1 year ago

Text

i only wanna worship you | javier peña

Take The Weight Off His Shoulders - Chapter Seven

Chapter Summary | When a promising lead for your story turns to dust, you find comfort in the only person you know can make you feel better these days.

Chapter Warnings | mentions and discussions of drugs, drug consumption and the drug trade, swearing, flirting, explicit smut, oral sex (f), protected piv sex but nothing else.

Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count | 4.4K

Authors Note | GUYS I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. Thank you so much for being so patient - my new job and the festive period kicked my ass, but we're back, and it's the one you've all been waiting for! I'm having so much fun weaving in the story along with these guys' relationship, and I hope it was worth the wait for you. If you're enjoying this then reblogs and comments really do help and if you’d like to support me further, please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi.

I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Series Playlist

You’ve been sat in the parking lot for what feels like ages. Turning up at the office that morning, you’d stared blankly at the article you’d written, listening to your managers voice in your head telling you that you could go and get your story, swirling the dregs of your coffee in your mug. It was almost like a switch had flicked in your brain and before your head could catch up with you, you were stuffing your supplies into your bag and swiping your car keys off the desk.

Now, your car is surrounded by others in the parking lot of Laredo’s biggest factory - one of the towns biggest employers of people who hadn’t gotten sick of it and left for college and never come back - waiting for Tyler Johnson to appear out of the front doors for his lunch break.

You watch the clock on your dashboard, counting exactly seventeen further minutes until his tall, lanky frame comes through the door. He’s fishing in his jeans pocket, pulling out a cigarette. He leans up against a brick wall just down from the front door, lighting the cigarette and taking a long drag. It’s now or never.

You get out of your car, deciding against taking your notepad and pen, you don’t want to spook him before you’ve had a chance to talk. You can feel the familiar nervous bubble in your stomach, something that hasn’t gone away when you blindly go up to someone to interrogate them.

“Tyler?”

He turns his head towards your voice as you come to a stop a few steps away from him.

“Depends who’s asking,” He looks you up and down, “But for you honey, sure thing,” He puts the cigarette into his mouth, reaches his hand out for you to shake which you do, “What can I help with?”

You take a deep breath, the speech you’d rehearsed in the car suddenly blanked from your mind as you try and figure out how to explain to him why you’re here.

“This is so strange, but can you remember hosting a party a few months ago?” You ask, “It was in town?”

You watch him think for a second, taking another drag on his cigarette, “Yeah I think so, was pretty wild if I remember, were you there?”

You reply with a nod, “Yeah, with my friend Liv,” You sigh, “Listen, I’m not trying to pry or anything, but you know that place was raided a few days ago, right?”

“Whole place knows it was raided,” He shrugs, “Been the talk of the town.”

“Right,” You’re thinking, how can you catch him in the act? “So, why were you hosting a party in a house that was empty, that was then raided for drugs?”

“Family own it,” He shrugs again, “Guy who rented it died and it needed doing up before we could get someone else in, so seemed like the best place to do it.”

“And the drugs?” You push.

“Listen, lady,” His tone sharpens but he doesn’t move towards you, you don’t feel threatened, “I haven’t got a clue as to why there were drugs there, okay? I haven’t been there since the party.”

“So you have no idea how they got there?”

“Not the faintest.”

“So it wasn’t you?”

“What the hell is this, twenty fucking questions?” He sighs again, flicks his finished cigarette to the ground, stamping on it with his boot, “I don’t know anything about the drugs, I’ve never taken drugs, I can’t even if I wanted to, we get tested here for them.”

“When was the last time you got tested?” You ask, eyebrows raised.

Tyler snorts at you, “You and everyone else in this fucking town are so predictable,” He shakes his head, “Just because I’m not a golden boy like my brother means I take drugs?” You’re about to open your mouth to reply when he started talking again, “I got tested about three weeks ago, and then probably six weeks before that too, clean as a whistle, always have been.”

“Do you have the test results?”

“You think I’m gonna show my drug test results to a random girl?”

You nod your head because it his trepidation makes sense, “I’m a journalist,” You finally let on, “I wrote a story about the drug bust but figured there was probably more to it than first meets the eye so I’m just digging around a little,” You shrug, “If you show me, it puts you in the clear though, means people’ll stop talking about you.”

Tyler rolls his eyes but starts walking towards a car. You follow behind him, waiting as he unlocks it and looks through the glove compartment, pulling out a couple of pieces of paper. He hands them to you, which you look through and just like he said, there are the result of his last three random drug tests, everything negative. Fuck. You try not to let your disappointment show as you hand them back.

“Sorry,” You mumble, “I’m just trying to get to the bottom of what’s going on here.”

“S’alright,” Tyler responds, putting everything back in order to lock his car back up, “I know how it is, but just…” He trails off, “Be careful, okay? I don’t know what’s happening either but this could be dangerous.”

“I’m a big girl,” You counter, “I’ll be fine,” You take a few steps back, “Sorry for bothering you though, I hope the rest of your day is alright.”

There is a part of you that would love nothing more than to roll over, push your face into your pillow and scream. When did having meltdowns like that become frowned upon? You’re sure when you were little they were cathartic, but what use was that at three years old? You needed to be able to scream at this age.

Instead, you lie on your bed, staring at the ceiling, frustrated that the one lead you had turned out to be a dead fucking end. Were you wrong about this whole thing the entire time? Were you barking up the wrong tree? Did you just need to cut your losses and publish the story as is, without needing to dig around further? You had no fucking clue.

Before you can think about what you’re doing, you reach over, pluck the phone off your nightstand and press the redial button. You don’t even need to tap in his number anymore, he’s the only number you really call these days. The phone rings three times before he picks up.

“Hello?”

“Javi?” You ask, although you don’t need to, you’d recognise that voice anywhere.

“You alright, cariño?” There is just a sigh that you let out in response, then his voice is back in your ear, “I’ve had enough bad days in my time to know that sigh, what happened?”

“I don’t know,” Is your response, you know you can’t tell him what’s really up because you know the deeper you dig into this, the more dangerous it’s going to get, “Just work stress.”

He’s silent for a moment, “What can I do? I can listen.”

“Can you come over?”

Even over the phone, you can hear him thinking it’s a bad idea. You can hear him thinking about how weird it will look if your parents find him in the house with you on your own, how you’d explain it, even if they didn’t necessarily catch you doing anything.

“They’re out at the moment,” You offer, “Dinner with some people on the force, and I won’t make you stay long, I promise.”

You can hear him do that thing he always does when he’s thinking - clicking his tongue against his teeth. He’s done it for as long as you can remember - a real tell that he’s battling with something in his head.

“I mean, you don’t have to,” You hasten to add, “We can just talk like this if you’d rather.”

“Need someone to make you feel better, huh?” His tone is lower now and it makes you squirm, all you can reply with is a small mmhmm sound, “I’ll be there soon.”

Then all you can hear is the dial tone. You lie there for a moment, listening to the sound through the phone, then glance around your room and panic. You slam the handset back onto the receiver and hop out of bed, dragging the sheets up to make the bed properly, aimlessly throwing abandoned clothes into the laundry basket, shoving half-read books back onto their shelves and generally tidying up enough so as to not look like a total slob.

Once you’re sure there’s nothing on display that you wouldn’t want Javi to see, you pace around the living room, drawing the curtains a little whenever you can see headlights bleeding through, until one set of those headlights are Javi’s truck. He pulls into the drive and sits there, before he’s reversing back out and driving off. Your heart sinks a little, until you can see his frame walking back up the street. You let the curtains fall back into place and stand by the front door, smoothing your hair and your clothes when he knocks twice. You don’t wait, just tear the door open.

“Waiting for me, huh?” He asks, stepping across the threshold, one hand slipping around your waist, the other letting the door close behind him.

“N-no, I was just by the door when you knocked.” You breath, so close to his mouth.

“That so?” He asks, eyebrow raised, “Someone else looking out the curtains then?”

He doesn’t give you the chance to answer. Instead, he dips his face to yours, lips pressed softly to yours. You can feel the aches and the stress leaving your body as he does, you bring your arms up to wrap around his shoulders, as Javi’s palm on your lower back presses you into his body fully.

“Y-you wanna m-maybe go upstairs?” You ask, lips still a hairs breadth from his, you don’t want to look at him whilst you ask.

“Is that what you want?” He asks, free hand cupping your cheek to make you look at him.

“I think so, yes.” You breathe.

“Well then, lead the way cariño.”

I don’t deserve this, is all Javi can think as your hand is clutched in his, leading him into your bedroom. He doesn’t deserve the flutter in his stomach when he looks at you, or the way your eyes look at him like he’s the best thing the world has ever offered you, and he certainly doesn’t deserve the opportunity to do what he thinks you’re going to let him do in the next few hours. All of the bad he’s done, veiled as something good, all of the shit he’s fucked up before, the people’s he’s hurt, the people he’s killed, whether at his own hand or as a knock on from his actions, he doesn’t deserve someone as good as you.

You’re stood at the door to your room, back pressed up against it, hands clasped behind your back as he stands in the middle of your room. He knows you’re nervous, you always are around him, and he wishes he could say something, express that he feels exactly the same around you, that you make him nervous too, but he thinks it would sound wrong if he tried to explain it, so he doesn’t, just holds out his hand and beckons you over to him.

The warmth of your hand slipping into his, the way he knows those hands feel when you touch him, the way your lips are soft when you kiss him, all of it makes him a weak man, a man who knows you need someone with less baggage, because he can’t say no to you, he doesn’t want to say no to you.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asks, manoeuvring the two of you so you’re sitting on the edge of your bed.

He watches as you shake your head, “No, it’s honestly nothing, it’ll be fine.”

“What do you want then?”

You lift your head, flash those beautiful eyes at him and instead of fighting the strength to stay upright, he takes a single step towards you and drops to his knees, settled on the floor with your thighs spread to accommodate him. He puts his hands on your knees, looking up at you, and spreads them a little wider.

“This what you want?” He asks, trailing his hands up to your thighs, pushing the hem of your dress up with his hands as he goes, “Something to take your mind off things for a while?”

“Y-yes,” You gasp when his hands hit the material of your underwear wrapped around your hips, “Yes please.”

Javi hooks his fingers into the band of your panties, watching as you lift yourself off the bed a little so he can pull them down. He’s slow with it, making sure that the hem of your dress keeps you covered as he can. It strikes him now how much he wants this, how much he’s craved the opportunity to get you like this so he can really hear you, really see you for once, without having to worry about getting caught.

“You wanna show me that pretty pussy, hermosa?” He speaks lowly into the skin of your thigh he’s nuzzling at.

He watches from between your thighs as your cheek drops to your shoulder, trying to hide how bashful you’ve become, but it does nothing to help the growing bulge in his jeans. Javi lets his fingers push the hem of your dress up your thighs, pooling at your waist, your legs widening.

Javi thinks he might audibly gasp at the way you’re already glistening for him. He leans forward, puckers his lips and presses a single kiss to your clit. It’s gentle, he revels in the small gasp you suck in, then he’s on your properly, tip of his tongue flicking gently against that little bud. He can feel your hand gripping at his hair already, hips moving in time with his mouth, and he wonders if anyone has ever blessed you like this. He needs to know.

He pulls away, letting his thumb gently replace his mouth, looking up at you, “Anyone ever done this for you?”

You shake your head, “No, but even if they had,” You’re biting at your bottom lip, “I don’t think it would have felt like this.”

He can’t help but smirk as he brings his mouth back to you, suckling your clit into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it, listening to you the way you whine for him, the way you start moving your hips in time with the movements of his mouth again. You taste divine, he thinks, as his tongue drops a little lower, drinking up the slick you’re creating for him, dragging it back up to run over your clit again.

“T-that’s so g-good.” He hears you moan.

“Yeah?” He replies, barely pulling off you.

He hears a noise in reply, lets one of his fingers trace up the skin of your thigh until he’s slowly pushing it inside of you, amazed at how easily you let him in just like he had been in the alley. He slips another in, curls them up gently, moves them until you tip your head back and really cry out for him this time. Javi can tell you’re close - he’s made enough women in his life feel good this way to know the signs - the way you’re tightening around his fingers inside you, the way your hips are moving but your thighs are starting to tighten around his shoulders and the way your moans are louder but more breathy, he’s addicted already, he knows it’s bad, but right now he can’t find it in himself to really care.

“J-javi,” You breathe, fingers gripping at his hair, “I’m gonna-”

“Go on, cariño,” He urges, “You can come for me.”

And you do, God alive you do, and it’s the most wonderful thing he’s ever been party to. Your cunt goes tight as a fist around his fingers, slick drooling down into his palm, he can feel the way you flutter around them as you say his name over and over again in some sort of fucked up prayer, and he thinks about how it would feel around his cock. Your entire body convulses as he works you gently through the aftershocks with his mouth, fingers slipping from inside you to rest, wet and sticky, on your thigh.

All of a sudden, he can feel you gripping his shoulders, pulling at the material to try and drag him up to you.

“Slow down, baby,” He says, but he moves anyway, pushing you back onto the bed, settling himself between your thighs, “We’ve got all night.”

“Javi, please,” You beg, and he doesn’t think he’s heard anything nicer in his life, “I want you,” Your fingers are fumbling with his jeans, trying to move his belt, “Inside me.”

Javi moves, taking your wrists in his hands, pinning them above your head, letting his hips grind into your own, front of his jeans grinding into the soft wet of your sensitive cunt.

“Do you have anything?” He breathes right into your ear, teeth nipping at the lobe.

“Top drawer.” You say quietly, whining when he pushes himself up onto his knees to reach into the draw.

Javi fumbles around a little until the familiar crinkle of foil hits the tips of his fingers. He pulls it out, places it into his mouth as he works to undo his jeans, pushing them down only far enough to free his aching cock. In an ideal world he’d strip the two of you off, but there’s something about this image of you, laid out on the bed in your sinful little sundress, tits heaving as you breathe, that means he just can’t wait.

He almost cries when you reach up, smooth palm stroking at his cock, so slowly he thinks he might die. Tin foil packet between his teeth, he tears it open, rolls it into his cock like it’s muscle memory. He leans back down, feeling the head of his cock nudging at your aching pussy, gathering your wrists back into his hands to pin you down again.

Javi is looking right into your beautiful eyes now, looking at the very soul of you as he stills. He’s damning the both of you to hell with this. He thinks if he’d been stronger, he could have stopped this - sure your mouth around his cock in the bar had been like silk, and the way you’d let him touch you against the brick wall had him seeing stars, but he knows, once he’s sunk himself deep inside you, he won’t be able to come back from this.

“You sure?” He asks, lips pressing softly to your own.

“Please.”

And it’s all he needed to hear to start slowly sinking into you. He watches closely as your eyes flutter closed, head tipped back, throat exposed to his mouth. He listens as he inches in slowly to your panting breaths and your little moans, until he’s buried fully inside you. His hands are gripping at your wrists tightly as he stays still, your hips wiggling underneath him.

“Hermosa,” He pleads, warns with his tone, “Don’t m-move, please.”

Like the devil himself, you don’t listen, and when he pulls his face from the crook of your neck, you’re smirking, you know exactly what you’re doing.

“Javier,” You use his full name and he swears he feels himself throb inside you, “Fuck me.”

He should have known the whole time that this wasn’t going to be a shining star performance, it’s been too long since he’s felt like this, felt the warmth of someone like this, but he knows this is different, he knows that look in your eye, not quite love, definitely not quite love, but it’s something different to the girls of Colombia. He can’t offer you a lifeline, he can’t offer you money to get yourself out of a country that’s trying to kill you, they needed him for something, and he needed them for something in return. But here, he just needs you, no whistles, no bells, just you.

Pushing himself up a little, letting go of his grip on your wrists, he puts his palms on the backs of your thighs and pushing your legs back, folding you underneath him as he starts moving a little faster, fucking you a little harder, you let out a proper moan into the air of the room and he finds himself smirking.

“That what you needed, baby?” He coos as he fucks you, feeling himself reach the very end of you with each thrust, “Just needed me to fuck whatever was in that pretty head of yours away?”

He can feel you tightening around his length, can feel the sweat sticking his shirt to his back, and that tell-tale tightening he feels when it’s almost time. He wishes he could hold on, wishes he could string this out, make it better for you, but god he needs to feel you again, he needs to feel the way you come around his cock.

“Touch yourself,” His tonne is demanding, but he watches down at you as you smirk, bringing your hand to your pussy, finger circling your clit as his hips start to falter, “Come on baby, one more just for me.”

It happens all of a sudden, the way your body snaps under him, and that feeling he’s been chasing, the feeling of you clenching around him, arching your back into him. He can feel the effect it has on him, just seconds later he’s following you over the edge, stilling inside of you as he finishes, banishing the tiny thought in the back of his head that says he wishes he was filling you up without a barrier between the two of you.

Once he’s caught his breath a little, he pulls out of you, groaning into your skin, listening to you whine at the loss of him. He takes off the condom, ties a knot in the top, wrapping it along with the packet in a tissue to put in the bin. He puts his clothes right, before crawling back onto the bed with you, pulling you into his chest, sighing at the feeling of your arm draped over his stomach, your leg entwined with his own. He presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Did that help?” He asks quietly.

“Yeah,” You reply softly into the material of his shirt, “Thank you.”

“You feel okay?” He’s slightly worried he was too rough, maybe that you didn’t enjoy it, “Was it okay?”

You move your head, looking up at him with sleepy eyes, “Javi, please,” You whisper, “Stop worrying, it was perfect.”

He lies there for a while, wishing he could strip the two of you down, press your warm bodies together and fall asleep like this is all normal and you aren’t younger than him, or the daughter of one of his closest friends.

“I should go,” He muses, “Not that I want to,” He adds quickly, worried you’ll think he wants to make a quick escape, “Just need to leave before any eyes are around to ask questions.”

You move slightly, letting the warmth of your body drag away from his own, “One day we’ll be able to do this properly, I hope.” You say, pushing yourself up on your palm as he rises from the bed.

“I promise the next time I have you like that,” He’s looking at you now, chin held in his hand, “I’m going to strip you down, take my time and fall asleep next to you, I promise.”

He kisses you then, slipping his tongue into your mouth and it takes every inch of his strength to pull away.

“Go on,” You smile at him, “Before my dad comes home and shoots you.”

“He wouldn’t shoot me baby,” He smiles back at you, “He wants me back on the force too much.”

“Before he gives you a black eye then.”

He can’t help but laugh at that, giving you a small salute as he turns to leave, but there’s something niggling at that back of his mind as his hand reaches for the handle of your door, something he needs to ask before he leaves, “If something was bothering you,” He asks, turning back to you, “Or you were getting into something at work, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

He’s looking right at you as you answer, searching for anything that says you’re not telling him the truth, and as you answer, he doesn’t find a reason to doubt you, “Of course I would.”

When he’s gone, twenty minutes later your parents are falling through the door, laughing at each other, too many glasses of God knows what over dinner have made them jolly and you find yourself smirking, biting at your bottom lip in the dark, that the two of them have no idea that Javier Peña left just twenty minutes ago after fucking you better than anyone else ever had.

It’s something that keeps you smiling, even as you fall asleep, eyes closing, any thought of work and dead-end leads forgotten and replaced by dreams of what else that man might be able to show you.

420 notes · View notes