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kissitbttr · 2 months

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mafia!toji first time meeting stripper!reader

a/n: reader is fem. and since i’ve been hit with biggest writers block known to a man, this one is inspired by one of my old work called gold. enjoy!

toji zenin is a ruthless man. that, you can definitely count on.

he’s known to be the one who shows little to no mercy. who’s soul isn’t as clean due to the countless of lives he had taken.

as crazy as it sounds, toji craves for the sound of piercing cries from someone who begs to spare them compassion. he likes to taunt them. mock them. pretending that he would eventually let them go just to see that little flicker of hope lighting upon their gaze.

a sinister smile would play coyly upon his lips before he decides the latter. pulling the trigger and watches the victim face planting the dark tile as their brains scatter all over the walls and floor.

it’s one way to teach people a lesson to not fuck with him. to not fuck with his business. because toji zenin is crazy like that.

he has no time for patience nor pity.

toji fixes the collar of his black sheer shirt, checking himself out in the mirror to make sure he looks good tonight. who are we kidding though? he’s toji fucking zenin,

tonight was supposed to be his day off. he had plans. before a motherfucker who runs a strip club decides to mess with him about the package deal and had almost lost him half of the money he’s supposed to own,

he could’ve let his right hand man to handle it. but this is bigger than anything he had ever done. is this goes to south, then one person’s death wouldn’t be the only thing on his agenda,

he’ll track down every single one of the bastards and kill them with his own hands,

however, tonight needs to be as clean as possible.he’s aware of the reputation he has put on himself to the world, so no point of hiding or camouflage. yet, he still doesn’t want to cause too much of a scene,

stepping away from the full length mirror, he swiftly picks his black velvet coat off the hanger before shrugging it on,

“talk to me, satoru” his heavy voice echoes the hallway as he steps out of the room to walk downstairs, watching a few of his men pocketing their weapons,

gojo satoru. his right hand man, nods,

“he’s there. word from bianco. he appears isn’t expecting you to stop by” he informs, showing toji the message on his phone. “it’s going to be crowded. but bianco is taking care of that right now. he’s got nowhere to run”

toji scoffs, snatching a glass of whiskey off the table before downing the remaining drink. “good. i need him to see me when he less expects it. owes me more than some fucking money” he mutters, tucking the G21 down his holster.

gojo raises an eyebrow. “G21? you’re going soft tonight eh, boss?”

toji shoots him a hard glare, one where the white haired man only chuckle at. “the car’s ready?”

another nod, gojo leads toji down towards the basement. “as requested. Lamborghini Murcielago. your personal favorite. packed with 640 PS and 471 Kw—i think you know what that means— rules around 213 mph if you consider on going hit and run. i packed a standard aeropack wing if you wanna go slow. windows? bulletproof. in case anyone tries to kill you” toji knows for a fact that gojo is only joking about the last part.

no one dares to try to take him down before he does it. it’s a pattern everyone knows by now,

toji lets out a low whistle, head softly shaking at the machine beauty before him. fingers tracing along the hood of the car,

“shit—you know i need to lay low, man? got anything less attractive?”

“i don’t do less. you know that, boss” he winks playfully, laughing to himself when he watches toji rolls his eyes. “besides. this thing right here will for sure earns you a bird. take her out on a stroll, bring her home. women love fast cars” he comments,

humming as a response, toji walks towards the driver’s seat. “i don’t date. were you born yesterday or something?” he speaks in a firm tone before catching the keys that gojo throws at him,

“no I wasn’t. but isn’t ‘she who shall not be named’ is like what? two years ago? and you got to stop with the one night stands. go get a girl tonight” he suggests, watching the dark haired man sliding himself into the car,

toji gives him a half hearted smile. “noted”

“i’ll be right behind you, boss. slow down, yeah?”

it takes about thirty minutes prior to arrival. toji blames it all on the traffic and the slow pedestrians crossing the road. cursing to himself every five seconds, each time he stops at red lights.

he parks his car close to the entrance before exiting from the vehicle, tossing his keys at one of the valet but not before roughly grabbing his collar and threaten to kill him if one scratch is prominent on his car.

clearing his throat, he walks into the bar. ignoring the stares and whispers at the sight of a notorious ruthless man who decides to pay the club a visit.

one thing he first to notice, the club is indeed packed. gojo wasn’t lying. as if God knew what is about to happen later on and isn’t going to let him get away with witnesses. he needs to play it safe tonight.

as he strides through the darkened room to find the table he had been reserved for, a few half naked girls walk right pass him. delicate fingers stroking his chest and brushing against his shoulders, making him smirk. he can’t lie, most of them are gorgeous and he’s tempted enough to touch their skin, but he has to hold it. not that he isn’t interested, because his mind changed. he is definitely taking someone back to his place tonight.

fucking gojo. he has to be right every time.

speak of the devil, the white haired man appears by his side in minutes. nodding his head towards the area where the business should be conducted. toji follows him close towards the end of the room,

he gently pulls back a chair for him to sit, as gojo and the two of his other men stands behind to watch over. toji specifically asks for the furthest table, with a glass of whiskey has been prepared for him.

toji feels irritated. he hates doing all of this dirty work just because some fucking bastard isn’t able to keep up with the deal. he should’ve known not to trust alec to do business, yet when the pathetic excuse of a man begged on his knees with a gun knocked against his head, toji thought why not? if he didn’t get to fulfill his demands, he gets to kill him either way.

“alright, alright—fuck! easy man!” alec’s frantic voice causes toji’s eyes to avert from the scene of the crowd. his eyebrows knitted, threatening gaze bores upon the man whose pushed forcefully by his men to sit, “mr. zenin! it’s always a pleasure to see you!”

mind that alec owes him more than fifty grand, and this fucker had the nerve to walk in and act like nothing happened,

he is definitely going to kill him,

“you don’t fucking talk to me that way, alec. i’m not your friend. you owe me something” toji warns, his finger pointing at him as he watches the trembling man gulp. “you remember?”

alec couldn’t feel more terrified as he casts a glance of toji’s gun on the table, facing towards him. “i—i know, man—sir” he corrects himself. “i didn’t forget. it’s just that the money is tight right now. the girls aren’t earning amount of money they—“

toji could only scoff, head thrown back. “i didn’t fucking hire your girls. i hired you. stop being a pussy and own up to that. you should know that me and patience never get along. i have one body bag left in my car and it would give me the tremendous pleasure writing your name on it” he grits his teeth, looking at alec with a dark look in his eyes as he balls his fist,

“i just need more time—“

“one month isn’t enough?!” toji barks, making alec jumps at the booming voice

“i need more. i promise. give me one more month. and i will do whatever you ask me to, sir zenin.” alec begs with hopeful eyes,

toji finds it disgusting and repulsive to see someone like him begging for mercy. or anyone at all. that gesture is weak and vulnerable. “i don’t give out second chances”

alec hears a gun clicks from behind. he doesn’t need to ask, he knows that one of the two men behind him is ready to blow his brains out. “sir zenin, please! just one more chance! please”

once again, toji isn’t a very patient man. he knows enough to understand that it’s a mistake. but he would love to see how this one goes, playing along with this little game of his.

toji isn’t a fool. never was.

he looks over at gojo, as if to ask what he thinks. the answer that gojo could give is ‘your choice, boss’

toji sighs, head shaking. “fine. you give me your best girl of the night, and i’ll give you one more month” he offers, taking a sip of his drink, leaning himself back to relax. “no more than that”

alec nods. though he feels like shitting himself because one month isn’t close enough for collecting the amount of money he owes toji to. still, he thinks this is better than nothing.

“take your pick, mr. zenin. or i could bring one or two here? we have twins in the back and they sure are on high demand, everyone has been begging me to—“

toji could only hum in response, not listening to a word he’s saying. his green eyes scanning over at the scene. the girls are putting on a show, showing off their skills, some are pulling a lap dance on a few customers. he cringes when one suddenly takes her bra off like she costs nothing. seems like none of these girls are his type. gorgeous? yes. but they don’t seem to do enough to make his cock twitch,

he’s about to take back the offer until his eyes fall on her. eyes widening in amusement and toji finds himself freezing on the spot.

a slight curvier woman has her leg hooked around the pole. long dark haired brushing against the marble floor as she arches her back slightly. toji observes the way her body moves so sensually yet gracefully, almost like a feather. the way she bites onto her pink glossed lips and how her eyes manage to flirt with the crowd with one simple look. she has them lured into her presence. himself included.

her body—fuck, he doesn’t even know where to begin. delicious curves cladded in navy blue bodysuit, full breasts supported by the cup of her outfit that bounces each time she moves. soft thick thighs wrapped by a white fishnet stockings and legs decorated in white fuzzy pumps. overall it’s quite revealing, but it still presents the modesty she has on her. he’s not quite sure if it’s the outfit or it’s just her,

but only a fool would assume that it isn’t the latter.

toji feels his pants growing tight when his gaze lowers to how her hips moving in circles. in painfully slow motion too. almost like she knows how to tease and she’s doing it so perfectly. if only he had spotted her from before, he would’ve move closer.

a damn fucking beauty she is.

“her. i want her” toji speaks in a firmer tone, almost territorial. he just can’t take his eyes off the woman. watching every single move and a wink being thrown.

he chuckles when she swats a couple of old hands who seems desperate to try and cope a feel with a dirty look on her face. he couldn’t make out what she’s saying but he knows for sure that she’s telling them off,

‘gorgeous and a fighter’ he thinks to himself

“angel? you want her?” alec asks after he realizes who he’s pointing at,

“that’s her real name?”

“no. she doesn’t let anyone know her real name. she goes by that ever since she starts working here” alec informs, watching toji nods,

so she’s new?

“some calls her birthday cake”

that makes toji’s brows scrunched. he is about to ask why the name until the answer is immediately given to him when she decides to do a side split, making her plump ass bounce against the floor.

oh that’s why

“gorgeous” toji breathes, cocking his head to the side. “not taken is she? not that i care anyway. what a fucking dime she is. you’re going to give her to me, correct?” his voice is threatening enough, dark eyes moving to look at alec who nods.

“yes! of course, sir! if that’s what you want”

“fuck yes i do. bring her to me” he demands before gulping down his drink, watching how alec immediately scrambles off the chair and hurries towards where angel is performing,

toji keeps his eyes set on the mysterious lady. refusing to move. he doesn’t want to miss a single thing. especially when she’s on her hands and knees, ass up in the air for the crowd to see and eyes looking over her shoulder earning cheer, applause and money flown just for her.

gojo lets out a wolf whistle. “good choice, zenin”

he hums, the girl now up on her feet. lifting herself up after she hooks her arm around the pole and give them a twirl. “tell me gojo. have you seen anyone as beautiful as she is?”

“definitely not. you just might hit the jackpot”

indeed he did. toji may have made a lot of mistakes but he’s never wrong when it comes to choosing partners . he’s always careful with it.

there is something so different about her and he’s very sure about it too. from how she’s not afraid to tell the men in the audience off, putting that smart mouth to use. unlike the girls he has seen around where they just take the humiliation. but her?

she fights back. just how he likes his women.

“fuck off alec, i mean it! my shift is almost over. i’m not interested being passed around to your friends or co-workers!”

he hears her protest. toji doesn’t even realize that she’s walking closer towards his table with alec’s grip around her elbow,

“who said anything about passing you around? i just need to introduce you to one of the most important men here!” alec defends,

“weird way of saying you want me to suck their cocks” she comments

a foul mouth indeed toji thinks

alec throws her a hard glare, in which she only scoffs and roll her eyes. “mr. toji zenin, I would like to introduce you to angel. she’s been here for almost a year now.”

toji grins at that, standing up from his chair and looks over at the beauty with a disinterested look on her face. seemingly look like she doesn’t want to be here. yet she smiles at him anyway, and he swears he has never seen something so pretty,

“nice to meet you, beautiful ” toji extends his hand for her to take, giving a soft kiss on it. his eyes aren’t looking away from hers. “hell. you’re even gorgeous up close”

she won’t deny it. this man is absolutely handsome. and she doesn’t see a lot of them working here. most are old and married, which something that she finds disgusting. but this man, toji? he is far from ugly.

first thing she noticed was how broad he’s built. the way he towers over her and he’s not even standing that close to her small figure. even the dark room fails to hide the definition of his muscles through the black shirt he’s wearing. and the thin scar over his pulled lips, showcasing a smirk.

is this man even a man?

as handsome as he is, angel raises an eyebrow, not feeling entirely influenced by the gesture. “so have you been observing me this whole time? that’s creepy”

“angel” alec hisses, gripping her elbow a bit tighter making her flinch a bit and her body to cowers a little.

“sorry” she mutters in irritation, gaze falling down to the floor

the interaction somehow irks toji to the bone. he eyes how alec treats her in front him, it would probably even worse behind closed doors.

he doesn’t even want to know.

“you can fucking let go now alec, you’re hurting her” toji demands, throwing him a sharp stare. alec’s pupils are wide open at that, causing him to release his grip almost immediately and for angel to nurse her reddening skin.

one thing that toji wouldn’t accept, is violence against women.

toji’s gaze beginning to soften yet again when he watches the pretty girl before him. how her long hair cascading down her back, exposing the sharp of her collarbones and valleys of her breasts,

if only her look of fear is replaced with a look of comfort,

“you can leave us be. thanks” toji coldly orders at alec, not wanting to be near his presence anymore. he’s had enough seeing that bastard,

he nods, avoiding his stare but not before muttering a ‘don’t fuck this up’ to angel before one toji’s men escorts him out,

“don’t worry about him doll. he’s gone, yeah?” he comforts her almost immediately, not wanting her to be scared anymore,

“oh—yeah, uhm thanks” she shoots him a smile. a genuine one this time, taking his hand in hers when he offers it. "so how do you want this--''

“if you don’t mind” he puts a hand behind her back immediately to guide her to the couch behind, earning a quizzical look on her face. “i want to get to know you first”

“mr. zenin. with all due respect, this is not a date. i’m working”

he chuckles at her forward response, still she lets him lead to the velvet couch. angel sits first, eyes glancing up for a moment and see a handsome white haired man with his arms crossed. he quickly removes himself from the presence and walk out. his other men following him from behind.

and now there’s just two.

“i just want to take my time with you. is that okay?” toji sits back down, watching her crossed her legs as she keeps the distance between them,

she smiles with a shrug, toying with the strap of her bra, “you could do that while i’m giving you a dance—if you want?”

toji makes a mental note on how her eyes glow under the violet lights when she stares at him. almost like it’s so easy for him to see what goes beyond that. they’re so so pretty. prettiest he’s ever seen indeed. despite the flirty tone lacing under her response, she still has the look of innocence that makes him smile back.

she’s no better too. the way he’s looking directly into her eyes should be a crime. his gaze speaks something. something… lustful and dangerous.

he nods, letting out a breathe of relief as he leans himself back before spreading his thighs as an invitation.

“show me what you got then gorgeous”

angel swears she can hear the beat of her heart getting louder the moment she sits herself down on his lap. still, without him having to suspect anything, she keeps her flirty persona for a show.

“my, my—you really are a fucking dime” he lowly whistles, eyes falling to the curve of her breasts. “i can see why people were loving you back there. hopefully they don’t get jealous when i stole you away”

she giggles, a small blush creeping on her cheeks. “aren’t you a flirt. you do this to every girl?”

toji places his hands on her plump ass, resting it there. he knows that there are rules where it’s forbidden you touch the dancers. but he doesn’t give a shit. and it’s not like anyone had the balls to tell him off anyway.

“only to those who i find interesting, baby” he says, eyes not looking away from the beauty as be squeezes her flesh making himself groan. “fuck me. that’s an ass? right here?”

his comment makes her laugh as she throws her head back. loving how genuine he actually sounds when he said that.

“so—mr. zenin” she begins, giving him a naughty smile as her hands finds their way to his shoulders, feeling how tense they are under his grip. “what brings you to this awful depth of town, hm?”

he clears his throat, wetting down the bottom of his mouth while keeping his hands steady on her hips. finding no desire to move them. “business. your bastard of a boss owes me something. I didn’t think i would actually be here right now, accompanied by a gorgeous woman like yourself”

damn. he sure is charming and cheeky. definitely a player. “you sure are a sweet talker, mr. zenin” she tells him before slowly beginning to grind against his bulge causing him to exhale another deep groan. “are you sure—you don’t make bitches wet talking like that?”

he mutters a low ‘christ’ when he feels himself growing hard under her sultry move, yet she isn’t stopping. and she only had just started. “believe me doll, i’ve had my fair shares with many—but damn, they sure don’t make me hard like you do—cross my heart”

her hips the move in tiny circles, keeping a painfully slow pace but enough to keep him satisfied. “i don’t trust you but okay—anyway, what did you and alec talked about anyway?”

“nosy, huh?”

she rolls her eyes. “i have the right to ask since he practically sold me to you for tonight—my shift was supposed to be over, mr. zeni—“

“toji” he cuts her off, thumb softly stroking against her hip bone

“what was that?”

“just call me toji” he repeats with a small grin. “and okay that’s fair—he has something very important of mine. was supposed to pay a month ago, but that piece of shit isn’t known to be the one who keeps his promises”

she hums in response, leaning herself back slowly and rests her palms upon his knees to keep her body steady. her hips are now moving back and forth.

toji shamelessly let his eyes wander down from her breasts to her thick thighs. “i was going to blow his brains out tonight. right here. on this one spot. but he begged like a bitch and i wanted to see how far he goes” he laughs almost darkly,

it scares her a little by how calm he’s being about murdering someone. with the way his eyes staring at her aren’t really helping too. like a predator eyeing his prey. almost like he knows how to make her weak on the knees.

“looks like he’s in big big trouble, then” she giggles cutely. “not surprised anyway. he owes alot of money to the girls too. mine included”

he cocks an eyebrow, feeling himself tensing. “does he now? how long?”

“can’t count. i had to pull bunch of shitty excuses to the landlord just so he won’t kick me out of the apartment. half of our earnings each night, goes to him. saying that he’ll pay me back but I know he never will” she spills casually, then her movement comes into a halt. “oh fuck, don’t tell him i said that”

with a chuckle, his head shakes. “i won’t. but i could kill him for you, if you want me to. just say the word” he speaks lowly, continuing to admire her body. “mind if i ask how long have you been working here?”

it takes her a while to answer. “almost a year. I quit college for this. not because i love it entirely, but i couldn’t pay for it anymore.” she sighs,

“i’m sorry to hear that. what were you studying?”

“bio-engineering” she smiles, “people tend to be surprised when i told them that”

“count me in as well, sweetheart, damn. not only she’s hot as fuck but she’s smart too?” he shakes his head in disbelief. “you even real, right now?”

she laughs, flipping her hair. “thank you, toji—can i ask you something?”

he hums, callouses hands move towards her back, holding her steady,

“what happened there” she points at the scar, struggling to find the urge not to trace her fingers across it,

he shrugs, “was from a fight years ago. nothing major”

“can i—touch it?” she softly asks him, looking so innocent yet teasingly,

toji smirks, head nodding. “go ahead, baby” he speaks in a low baritone. voice so deep and flirty that it almost makes her squirm,

she ignores the butterflies in her stomach when he calls her that. and without being told twice, she leans closer and her fingers reach out to pad the scar gently. feeling how soft his lips against her skin, paying attention to every single detail of it. wondering how on earth could a scar fit someone so perfectly.

there is no doubt on her mind, that he is the sexiest man she has ever come across to. she can feel the weight of his palm lowering itself down to her plump cheek, squeezing it. usually, she would tell anyone off for touching her like that. but this time, she doesn’t say anything. not because she’s afraid of him but she feels strangely turned on.

“fuck” he breathes out, feeling her ass one more time. hearing him like that just makes her giggle as she gradually picks up the pace grinding on him, catching toji off guard.

“such a naughty little girl—bet you wouldn’t mind having that ass spanked now would you?” he whispers against her ear, biting his lower lip hard.

though she would admit that she wouldn’t, she won’t allow him to win this game. she slowly shakes her head with a smirk, removing herself off his lap causing him to whine. angel spins around, not without swaying her ass side to side, sneaking a glance to make sure he’s watching,

her hand immediately circles around the pole in front of them. “dinner is mandatory if you want to go down to that path, mr. zenin”

toji watches carefully with lust and admiration as she now securing her arm around the golden pole, lifting herself off easily and give her body a gentle spin. eyes screwed shut and head thrown back. coming back down slowly, she re-enacts the movement from where she performed for the audience. legs spread apart, landing in a perfect split. long brown hair covering the side of her beautiful features, tongue licking her upper lip.

he follows the curve of her ass, eager to get his hands on them but he knows that he has to wait. there, he spots a small heart tattoo inked on her ass cheek,

angel is a little teaser. that’s for sure. enjoying herself too much in making a man hard yet refuses to be under the spell of a man’s touch. he likes that actually. likes that a lot. it may be painful to have his cock hard at the moment while she’s not doing anything about it but she’s worth it.

so, so worth it.

“you are so. fucking. sexy.” his voice switches into something darker, a seductive grin slowly forming as he thirsts over her. “must have made a lot of men mad out there”

“so i have been told” she declares with confidence, innocent smile pulling upon her lips as she begins to gently crawl towards him, eyes never leaving his.

she halts in between his open legs, settling on her knees. being the little minx she is, her hands find a place on top of his thighs. “i sense you carry danger everywhere you go, mr. zenin—am i wrong?”

she’s not dumb. she spotted his gun strapped against his holster an hour before she was even being introduced to the man.

he delicately caresses her soft cheek, almost came in his pants when she leans against his palm. “why? that scares you?” he moves a few strands of hair that are blocking his view of her pretty face,

she shakes her head, a smile doesn’t leave her face. in fact, he hears a soft giggle escapes her.

his eyes move from the curve of her breasts and up to her mouth. eyeing the way that pink gloss compliments her pretty skin.

“would love to have a taste—right here” toji whispers, his thumb grace her lower lip. his breath immediately hitches, and a groan rumbles deep in his chest the moment she opens her mouth.

“fuck—what a good girl” he moans lowly when she lets his thumb rest upon her warm wet tongue. the angelic look in her eyes disappears and is replaced with a look of lust. “s-shit” it takes him by surprise when she decides to suckle it, head bobbing her head up and down painfully slow,

“jesus—i wish it was my cock you’re sucking right now, baby” nonetheless, the amount of pleasure she’s giving him is enough to keep him satisfied,

“holy fuck, wow” she pops her lips off his thumb. wiping the saliva from the corner of her mouth before giggling again. the sound makes toji smile. genuinely.

“you’re trouble” he comments with a tsk, chuckling at the way she shrugs innocently as if she has no idea what he’s talking about. “alright. up you get, baby”

she gives him a questionable look, following his movement and rise to her feet. “mr. zenin, we still have thirty minutes left. alec gave me at least an hour and he would be upset if i—“

“if he touches you, you tell me and i’ll kill him. understand?” toji sternly orders, brows furrowing at the thought of that lowlife bastard putting his hands on her,

she’s baffles at that. how could he know what goes behind closed doors? still she nods anyway. “yes, sir”

“toji, baby. toji” he corrects with a smile. “besides, if i stayed for another ten minutes, i’ll l cream in my pants and that would be embarrassing” he shamelessly points out. she blushes at that and it makes toji’s heart skips a bit,

“this doesn’t mean it’s a one and done. i would love to see you again, sweetheart. can’t let you go too far now can i?” he pulls out his wallet from his back pocket and hands her thick amount of hundreds. “here you go, angel”

she gasps softly as her eyes go big, shocked by the bundle of cash in his hand. if she counts it right that’s gotta be at least close to one grand.

“toji this is—fuck this is too much, I—i can’t take these. twenty or fifteen is enough for me”

he frowns. who in the right mind think it’s okay for men to tip a gorgeous woman with a rocking body some loose change? fucking assholes.

“baby, you do realize who you’re talking to? i don’t give out twenty or less” he quirks an eyebrow, watching her adorable expression. “money isn’t a problem to me. a grand isn’t a problem to me. come on, you deserve it”

she stares down at his hand and hesitantly takes the money. flashing him a wide smile. “mr—i mean, toji, oh my god thank you so much. thank you, thank you!” without any second thoughts, she jumps out and wrap her arms around his neck,

“you don’t know how much this means to me. i needed this”

toji stumbles a bit, the sudden movement surprises him but he appreciates it. the way she keeps thanking him, muttering couple of blessings has somehow gives his heart a little kick,

a good one.

“no need to thank me, baby” toji grins, holding her by the waist to keep her secured for a moment before pulling away. “you take care of yourself yeah? don’t be wandering too far. would love to take you out on a stroll” he leans down to peck her cheek,

“I’ll be sure to stop by and see you again, gorgeous” with one last devilish smile, he walks out of the room. leaving her still in complete shock,

he is no ordinary man, alright. it kinda makes her feel a bit weird by all the butterflies that are erupting her stomach by how he acted earlier. has it been.. what? two or three years since she had been engaged in any sort of relationships with a man. and there has been no real man crawling around this city. only rats. she fucking hates rats.

but toji zenin? there’s definitely something about him that makes his whole aura and appearance a lot more sexier. again, she’s not stupid. she has seen the gun. observed his interaction with her boss. and the men he had protecting him suits?

that’s no 9-5 man. it’s dirty work.

and it should’ve scared her. it should’ve been a warning made for her to run and avoid him because he’s a man that carries danger everywhere he goes. toji zenin is a man that would not hesitate to paint the whole town in blood of his victims if one ever crosses his territory.

yet as she glances down at the bills being handed at her and promise from him that he would see her again, it makes her smile. heart thumping at the thought of the beautiful man coming back only for her.

angel clutches the money against her chest, squealing as she does little bounces in her heels with a giggle. overjoyed with the amount of cash that would help her,

she’s definitely making toji her new favorite client

#mafia!toji #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro blurbs #toji fushiguro smut #jjk

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4ngel-inc · 2 months

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SLUTTY OSAMU DAZAI — 𝓒𝓡𝓨 𝓕𝓞𝓡 𝓜𝓔 ᰔ

summary — after catching dazai flirting with another woman, you decide to remind him he's yours. sure, you're a little mean about it, but how else will he learn to behave himself?

tags — [ MDNI / 18+ ], dialogue heavy, fem reader, dominant reader, submissive dazai, dirty talk, punishment, verbal degradation. 2.1k words.

you're certain dazai doesn't know what's coming—how could he? you've been tugging on his arm the entire walk home, your fingers interlaced with his as you laugh at all of his cheesy jokes just the way he likes, fluttering your eyelashes when he looks over toward you with that beautiful smile that makes nearly everyone melt.

you almost feel bad, the way you're deceiving him, the way you're hiding how angry and frustrated you are at how disobedient he's been—but he's just so gorgeous, you can't help but spoil your sweet little baby with a few soft kisses and fake laughs before you get home. what could it hurt, after all? the cafe is only a few blocks from your shared apartment, surely indulging his ego for a short time longer couldn't cause any harm.

when you finally enter your shared home, dazai sighs, happy to be in his safe space that smells so much like you again. "ah- that was fun," he hangs his coat and scarf in the entryway closet before turning towards you, smiling as he takes yours off for you as well. "this looks pretty on you, i like the color," he unwinds your plaid scarf from your neck and hangs it up before sliding your coat down your arms, carefully ruffling it into place before he hangs it back on the velvet hanger.

"i'm glad you had fun," your voice is still as sweet as it was on the walk home, "you looked handsome."

"awww," he tugs on your arm to pull you in, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as he gazes down at you lovingly, his eyes eventually falling to your lips, "you always know just what to say, angel, i swear my heart beats faster when such sweet things fall from these lips," he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip and leans closer to kiss you, but you stop him with a hand against his chest just before his mouth touches yours.

he frowns, eyes fluttering back open, "something wrong? i wanted a kiss." you detect the hint of a whine in his tone, and it makes your heart clench—you really should be nicer to him, shouldn't you? surely he didn't mean to be so insufferable at the cafe, but it's been much too much lately. every time you turn around, you catch dazai making eyes at another waitress or flirting with the barista at your local coffee shop. it's just. . . too much.

you've even been extra patient with him lately, understanding he's probably just feeling a little needy—but despite all of your sweet kisses and compliments and the way you ride him until he's practically crying each night, he still wants more. your love isn't enough for him, clearly. but if he's going to look elsewhere for affection, you might as well remind him what he's missing out on every second his mind isn't on you and you alone. you've practically given him everything, what would happen if you took it all away?

"yes, i know you wanted a kiss. but why take one from me? my kisses are precious." you separate yourself from him a bit, and he looks like he might cry already.

"i don't know what that means?"

"why kiss me? there are plenty of people in the world you can kiss, why choose me?"

he whines, "don't joke around, honey bun. come here, you're the only one i want to kiss." he attempts to pull you back in, but you turn away, kicking your heels off before settling on the bar stool behind you with your legs crossed.

"we need to talk, dazai."

"w-why are you calling me that?" his eyes are glossy now, and he unconsciously juts his lower lip out a bit. his stomach twists and it already feels like his heart is being ripped out of his chest, all from simply hearing his name leave your lips drenched with such a thick tone of disappointment. he's failed you again, that much he's sure of, but how? why?

"because you don't fucking listen when i'm nice to you, do you?"

"i- wh- where is this coming from? what did i do?"

"you disrespected me, again, but of course you know that- you just can't keep it in your pants for five fucking seconds even though you know it'll piss me off. come here," you gesture to him and he approaches you stoically, knowing better than to reach out toward you or try to touch you. "maybe you like making me mad, is that it?" you reach up to run a hand through his hair, and he almost thinks you're cooling down from your gentle tone at the last statement, until you land a soft slap to his face, with just the right amount of pressure to have his cock twitching in his pants.

his mouth falls open, unsure of what to say. despite the fact you're "punishing" him, he selfishly wants this game to continue, per usual. it is why he enjoys pissing you off in the first place, after all. you uncross your legs and jump from the barstool, striding into your shared bedroom, "come." he follows your lead like a lost puppy until you shut the door in his face. "oh, did you want to come in?" you call through the door sarcastically.

he's silent again for a moment before speaking, "do i have to sleep here?" dazai knows your ways by now, it wouldn't be the first time you've made him sleep away from you, though you've never actually made him sleep on the floor, only at the edge of your shared bed, as far away from you as possible, or on the couch when you're feeling particularly spiteful.

he pouts and begins to walk away until he hears the click of the door opening, "hmm, i'm not sure. do you think you deserve to come in?" your pretty eyes scolding him wordlessly only entices him more—he's always loved your eyes, the pretty color of your irises and fullness of your lashes only has his cock growing harder in his slacks.

"i'll do anything."

"anything? that's a heavy promise, dazai."

—

"you wanted to get fucked, didn't you? what if i fuck you here?" your finger traces over dazai's tight hole, threatening to press a finger in, though he knows you won't. you just love to tease him—love to threaten harsher punishment he knows you won't actually give.

though you never push him past his limits, the thought still intrigues him, though he won't pursue it. "n-not there," he whines, and you relent, leaning forward to kiss his shaft again, fingers playing with the bead of precum at the tip.

"this cock is so fucking pathetic, you expect me to fuck you? i'm too pretty for a man like you, you're nothing but a womanizer."

"i'm sorry, i'm just- s-so sorry," his head lolls back as you continue to tease his cock with your fingertips, squeezing the spongy head lightly, pulling a deep groan from him as he pulls his legs back farther, hands hooked under his knees like you'd instructed. his cock, balls, and asshole on full display has him feeling more vulnerable than ever, though he loves the feeling of being entirely submitted to you.

"yeah, you told me already. but what are you going to do to change?"

"i w-wasn't serious, only flirting. she isn't even as pretty as you."

"flirting? you know what, dazai, i deserve better than you. you think women are just disposable, don't you? do you only love me because i'm pretty?"

"no!" he practically screams, "i can be better, f-for you."

you pull away at his words, removing your hands from him entirely, leaving him feeling cold and lonely. "i want to believe you, babe," you sigh, clearly exhausted, "but i don't know if you really mean it."

"let me show you?" he whines, and you relent.

"fine, come here," you squeeze his slender waist, encouraging him to approach you as he crawls into your lap, your hands squeezing his ass as he settles on top of you.

"i'll show you, i'll be everything you need. you don't need anyone else, i don't need anyone else. can i just-"

"just what? tell me, what do you want, osamu?" hearing you use his real name for the first time feels like a salve, soothing all of his worries, a bit of his confidence returning.

"can i. . . fuck you? i think you're so pretty, so perfect . . . so smart, you're so good to me, i-" he goes on and on for what feels like hours, complimenting you, whispering sweet praises, crying for you to fuck him, laying on the bed stroking his cock, doing anything he can to make you believe him, and when you don't climb on top of him after all of it, real tears finally spill from his eyes.

"you don't love me," he states matter of factly, and it's enough. . . it's just enough to make you give in, to end this little charade before his feelings are truly hurt—something you'd never want.

"i do love you, baby. i really do . . ." you straddle him as you stroke his cheek, wiping away the tears as he sniffles, examining the wetness as you rub your fingertips together, seemingly deep in thought. "but please, don't disobey me again. it hurts." he nods, and you finally give him what he wants.

who are you to deny your sweetest baby, after all? you've been so mean, your angel deserves a little praise after everything he's been through, right?

—

"you like that, don't you?" your hands squeeze dazai's throat gently, and though he's unable to respond fully, his eyes roll back, cock hardening inside you as you ride him—your hips undulate back and forth as your ass ripples, his hands gripping it tightly, almost as if he'll lose you completely if he lets go.

"i-uh," his voice cracks, and you release your hand.

"what is it? tell me, baby. use your words."

"f-feels so good, think i'm gonna cum already," his eyes are pleading, asking you wordlessly if he can cum inside you as he grabs your hand and places it back on his throat, squeezing his hand on top of yours.

"y'gonna cum inside me? you want that, honey?"

he nods frantically, finally spilling into you as you ride him faster, your hips moving against his at an almost harsh pace. "oh, 'm-cumming, inside, cumming inside, wanna fill you, wanna fill you- oh, god, it's good, oh it's good, mm," his little whines and whimpers are like music to your ears as he babbles mindlessly, enough to have you tightening around him silently as you cum as well—though you don't make a show of it, you don't want any attention on yourself anymore, only on him, your devoted lover, your sweetest angel. the person you love more than life itself.

as the heavy breathing in the room calms to a more comforting silence, you nuzzle into dazai's neck, placing soft kisses there. "i love you, osamu. you know that, right? you were so good."

he smiles, squeezing his arms around you as your feet gently caress his under the covers. "i know, i just-" you look up at him inquisitively, waiting for him to finish his sentence, "i love everything you do to me, feels so good. 's that wrong?"

"no, of course not. it's perfect, it's us."

he sighs, pulling you against him. despite disappointing you, dazai finds comfort in the fact the two of you fit perfectly together, body and soul. you make him so happy, he'll never do anything to upset you again—he tells himself as much.

though, in all honesty, he could get used to your punishment—somehow it always makes him feel even more loved in the end.

#— love notes: [dazai] ୧ ‧₊#bsd x reader #dazai x reader #osamu dazai x reader #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #bsd headcanons

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 29 days

Text

The Quiet One 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: have a good day.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

“So, what do you think?” Lloyd asks as he turns to you, outstretching his arms as he gestures to the endless hangers. “All yours. You got your pick.”

You stand just inside the door of the walk-in closet. The space would take up at least half your apartment alone. You cross your arms as you glance along the rows of coloured fabric hung from the walls, organized in a perfect ombre effect of shades. On the far wall, there are shelves full of shoes and accessories, along with a vanity in the centre.

“I know you’re a simple gal,” he grins, “but you don’t have to be anymore. Whatever you want, ain’t no mountain high enough and all that.”

You nod and blow out between your lips. It all still feel surreal like a nightmare. You swallow and tamp down your discomfort. You didn’t hate the life you had. Your small apartment, manageable and tame. You prefer predictability, even if some might say it’s boring.

“Erm, I dunno,” you slowly trail over to the other side of the closet.

“Well, you could pick some shoes first. That might inspire you,” he suggests as he approaches you, “you don’t need to be too fancy, you know, you always look nice.”

“Mm,” you nod,” thanks that’s...”

You let the sentence hang. This is really freaking you out. Your chest feels tight and your head is buzzing. You shudder out a breath.

“What... what am I choosing for?” You croak.

“I told you, jellybean,” he puts his arm around you and pulls you against his side, “it’s a surprise.”

He reaches to grab a hanger and holds it out at arm’s length. A blush-coloured satin dress with a bit of frill at the bottom of the skirt. It’s nothing you would choose yourself.

“Sure, that’s nice,” you say, just to appease him. What else can you do?

“Hm,” he hums, “you don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say...”

“You don’t sound very excited,” he pouts as he turns to you, his hand lingering on your hip, “none of it? I got it all for you.”

“I’ll wear it,” you sniff, “I’m sorry, I’m just... I’m... adjusting.”

You don’t know how else to explain it.

He pushes his lower lip out and narrows his eyes, “sure, sure, makes sense.” He drags his hand off your hip and steps back, keeping the dress up as he angles it before you, as if he’s imagining you in it. “This is gonna look so hot, baby.”

You do your best to stay placid. It’s harder as you heart pounds furiously. You can’t even begin to guess what he has planned but with everything he’s done and said, you know exactly what his intent is.

“You should get washed up, huh? Then get dolled up. Like I said, won’t need much of that,” he winks, “you could walk in ass-naked and I’m sure you’d stun.”

You can’t help how your mouth slants at his remark.

“Alright, jellybean, let’s get you in the tub,” he lays the dress over the velvet bench and spins back, startling you as he grabs both hips and jerks you towards him with a growl, “can I watch? I promise, I’ll try not to touch. Yet.”

You clasp onto his wrists with a yelp. He curls his lips eagerly and you repress your horror. You don’t want to antagonise. You don’t want him to get any worse than he is.

“Um, did you want... to?” You murmur.

“Fucking of course,” he urges you against him, “the things I want to do...” he smirks, “I’m quaking in my boots.”

He bows to smother you with a kiss. His mustache pokes at your uper lip and up your nose as he hums and slides his tongue across your lips. You squeeze your mouth tightly shut but he pokes through, nearly choking you as he invades. You press your hands to his chest as he locks you into his embrace.

Finally, he part and you gasp for breath. He snickers as you puff against him. Your skin is crawling as you wriggle in his hold.

“Yum,” he purrs.

He lets his arms fall away and quickly snags your hand. You let him drag you around to the door, your feet hollow as they move without a thought. Resistance is plainly not a choice.

He takes you back into the adjoining bedroom, the one you awoke in, and through another door way against the perpendicular wall. He steps to the side as he tugs you forward and releases you. Your take in the sleek black walls and black tub, the silver shower head in a monochrome booth, and the ebon marble veined with sparkling white.

“I get it, it’s going to take a lot of getting used to,” he boasts, “this is our home, sweet cheeks. Remember that. You treat it like your very own... it is. Just like me, all yours.”

You pad slowly inside, if only to keep a distance from your captor. You won’t forget what he is. He can give you all the luxurious things but you remember the days of starvation, of terror. He can’t see himself for what he is but you do.

“Face masks, body scrub, bath bomb, shower gel, bonnet, robe,” he points at the fluffy purple robe still around you, “slippers,” he flicks his finger towards the mat beside the door, “lotions, creams, everything you can dream of. Oh damn, I can call a nail tech if you want a fresh mani--”

“Uh, no thanks,” ball up your fists, hiding your short-trimmed nails, “that’s not... that’s okay.”

“Only the best for you, kitty cat,” he says.

He strides forward and you flinch out of his way. He goes to the tub and cranks it on, water splashing out from the high faucet. He flips the silver lever to put the stopper in place and backs up.

“Voila, all for you,” he declares, “I’ll just...” he looks around and backs up to sit on the fluffy cushioned stools near the wall, “sit and watch. If you need help getting your back, I got you.”

He wiggles his fingers and gives a lecherous grin. You withhold a shudder and face the basin, the water battering the bottom. You step forward and peer down into the shallows. You clutch the front of the robe and peek over in his direction but not at him.

He waits, silently. You sway, squeezing the fluffy fabric as you peer back at the water. You don’t know if you can do it. Not with him right there.

“Whatsa matter, baby, you need help?” He shifts and you jolt.

“N-no, I just...” you look down at yourself and frown.

“Ah, you’re shy. I totally get it,” he coos, “you don’t gotta be though. Your beautiful, so you should be proud. Show it off, honey.” He clucks and shakes his head, “you know that’s the thing these days, all you girls, you’re so insecure, but you trust me, sweet lips, you got nothing to be insecure about.”

Your stomach flips. You feel hazy. You try to shrug it off and drop your hands to the belt of the rob. You untie it. You’re really going to do this. Why?

Because you’re afraid? Weak? Yep.

You shed the rob and look around. You hang it on the hook behind the door and return to the tub. It’s getting deeper and deeper. You touch the bottom of your shirt and scrunch it up in your fists. Just do it quickly and get in. He can only see so much from over there.

You pull your shirt off, nothing underneath. You push your pants down quickly, your underwear rolling down inside. The skin feels cooler then and tingles across your naked skin as you latch onto the tub and swing yourself over the edge. You barely get a foot under you before you submerge your body in the water.

You sit up, legs bent, stiff on the porcelain as the water continues to rise. It’s not quite at your chest yet. If you let it fill all the way, it might touch your chin. As you watch the depth climb, you don’t notice him until he closes. You slide to the back of the tub as Lloyd cranks off the faucet.

You notice how his eyes stray to you. Your legs stay bent in front of you, blocking most of everything. You shrink down, hunching your shoulders as he searches through the ripples. He tilts his head and cracks his neck as he exhales and backs away.

“Take your time, baby,” he purrs as he rubs his chest.

He sits again and you lower your head. You’ve never been this bare in front of anyone, rarely even yourself. You’re just not comfortable without some short of shield around you. Your eyes tinge with the threat of tears. You feel like you’ve been hit across the face. This is real. Really real.

Your eyes flick up and you reach for the purple scrubby on the little black shelf. You just have to get through it. That’s what you’ve always done.

👄

You stare into the open case. You’re not entirely unfamiliar with the concept of make-up. When you were a teen, you had a phase, and you’ve been to enough job interviews to wield a mascara wand. Still, the amount seems excess.

There’s almost every sort of product in every shade. Some sort of tap you don’t know what to do with, highlighter, and finishing spray. It’s too much. Your look is either a bare face or nothing at all. More often the former.

You fidget with a tube of lipstick, clicking the lid up and down. This is all so strange. What are you getting ready for? And why? This isn’t your home, this isn’t your life, and yet it’s all so perfectly planned.

“Honey bunnnnnn,” Lloyd’s timbre has you dropping the stick. He strides in, flustered, holding up two ties. He’s half dressed. A pair of red velvet pants and amber satin button up. It’s not a look you would go for. “What do ya think? Which tie? Paisley or the stripes?”

You shrug and shake your head.

He clicks his tongue, “genius, baby, genius. No tie. You’re right. Just the jacket.”

Your mouth falls open and you nod, “sure, yeah.”

You look back at the vanity and huff. Your face is untouched. You sit in your robe in the walk-in closet, mulling over your misery. Self-pity is as inescapable as these walls.

“What’s up, cheeks?” He asks, “you need some help? I’m thinking you could give a bit more colour to lips but keep the rest very subtle.”

He crosses the floor and hovers behind you. You stir around in the case and take out two bottles of foundation. You’ve never really used that either but the shades are pretty close. He lays the ties down on the vanity, brushing your back as he does, and pulls back to grip your shoulders.

“I tried to guess as best I could. Don’t know much about all that but the lady in the store was a blessing,” he massages your shoulders as he talks. You’re tense as steel. “But you know, you got perfect skin so...”

“Mm,” you put the foundation back and peruse the little shelf alongside the mirror. You reach for the moisturizer. Your skin feels raw.

“I like it, au natural. Touch of cream, little lash...”

“I’ll figure it out,” you grumble. He’s kind of annoying. No, he’s really annoying. All of this is annoying.

“Right, yep, I will get out of your way,” he bends and kisses the crown of your head, “lots of time.”

He strolls out and you scowl at the mirror. Something about him is getting to you. You’re not an angry person. You’re a nice person. You don’t go out of your way to be around others but when you are, you strive to be pleasant. Or at least, out of the way.

You spread the cream over your face, watching your reflection as if it’s someone else. Where did he come from? Why? This is some cruel trick because you only ever wanted to mind your business.

You cap the bottle and put the moisturizer back. You fish out a mascara stick and brush it on your lashes then find a neutral lip colour to put on. Nothing special, just like you. Hopefully he sees that soon enough.

You pack away the case and push it to the back of the vanity. You get up and go to the velvet bench where the dress lays. He’s plucked out a few things to go with it. A gold necklace with small diamonds speckled along it and a pair of beige heels.

You peek at the door before you untie the robe. You shiver as your fingers brush your stomach. You close your eyes as you recall how he wrapped you up in a towel after your bath. His touches were more than deliberate but his intrusive gaze made you squirm more.

You pull on the lingerie tucked under the dress. A thong. You’ve never worn one of those, and a satin and lace bra with no padding. Even as you pull the dress up your figure, you feel like you’re on display. You reach back, bending your arm until your elbow throbs as you push the zipper up.

“Need some help?” Lloyd’s voice makes you wince.

You sniff, “sure.”

You hold up the bodice as he approaches. You refuse to look back at him as he nears. He tickles along your spine with a single finger before he tugs on the zipper. He pulls it up little by little, until the fabric is snug around you. His fingertips drift down your back and he spreads his hands across your ass. You gasp.

Before you can step away, his hands glide around and he grabs you by the hips. He pulls you against him and rocks with you. He inhales your scent from above and sighs.

“Jellybean...” he almost sings, “are you...untouched?”

You lock up and grab at his hands, trying to free yourself.

“Is that why you’re so shy?” He snickers and spins you around, hands going to your waits, “I’m honoured to be your first.”

You gape at him, horrified. His intent hasn’t been hard to guess but said aloud, it is all too imminent.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #the gray man #the quiet ones

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coeurify · 5 months

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TIS’ THE DAMN SEASON 1

ELLIE WILLIAMS

𖤐 . ─┈ the holidays linger like a bad perfume. you can run, but only so far. i escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave? ˚* .

pairing: modern!ellie williams x ex!reader. summary: three years after the worst high school graduation you could imagine, you come home for the holidays— and find you can’t run from the past forever. ( series summary!!! ) chapter warnings: the first half is a flashback to high school. underage drinking & smoking (18). slight mommy issues, slight angst. blink and you miss it talks of anxiety. reblogs, likes and conversations about this fic in my inbox are highly encouraged and LOVED!! (plz come talk to me) special thanks to @elliesbelle for proof reading and hyping me up when i was struggling LOL

Your graduation gown was bright red. Not the sort the class before you graduated in, one that danced the soft line between burgundy and crimson. That would have looked beautiful against your skin, complimented the dress you picked out on the very first day of senior year. Your best friend told you it was too early, that you might decide on a different dress later on, but you were quite stubborn. You held the dress on a velvet hanger in the very smallest corner of your wooden closet, olive green and untouched. Gazing at it became a ritual, a fixation that found you stood at your closet any bad day, staring until your eyelashes fluttered closed and you let a soft breath out. Just a while longer until you could wear it.

The graduation gown was bright red and hadn’t gone with the shade of your dress at all. The material scratched against your arms, and fit too snuggly against your shoulders. Each thread felt too small, too constricting as you pulled it over your body. The sewn-on emblem of your school irritated the space on your chest it stuck over, and all you wanted to do was take it off. To be free of it.

Still, you had pushed aside the open suitcase at the bottom of your closet with a lump in your throat and sought out the same olive-colored dress from the start of the year. You had to wear it. You left the suitcase outside of your closet as well.

Nestled on the quiet corner of Church Street, named so for the methodist that sat closely down the avenue, was your childhood home. Faded paint peels from its timeworn white picket fence, revealing spots you picked at as a child— crashed into with your bike when you were ten and split the repainted wood. The wood creaks on the porch outside, which your mother consistently complained about. One of the window panes on the second floor is weathered by the rain.

It’s your bedroom window, and sometimes when you’re bored you would push up the glass, and let in the Wyoming air, trying to make your bedroom feel less suffocatingly small. You would scratch your nail against the dead wood, watch pieces fall to the ground outside, over the small garden of seasonal flowers your parents always tried to tend to, and failed at each year. You do so that day, with your bright red sleeves pushed up as you let the June breeze into your yellow-painted room, picking— prodding at the pieces that hardly hold on before your mother called your name, “Joel and Ellie are here!” her voice carried up the carpeted stairs, echoing with a sense of impatience.

Those names had your ears perked up, hardly feeling the tightness on the shoulder stitches of your graduation gown anymore, and you hurried down the stairs, welcomed by the smell of ripe peaches and freshly cut grass. It’s likely the candles balanced on nearly every corner of the living room your feet carry you near, lit by your mother who leans over yet another she must have gotten from the home goods store three towns away.

A smile pulled at your lips for the first time that day as you took in the two at your door. Joel was wearing a suit— an actual suit, and he had shaved. When you ‘oooh’ and ‘ahhed’ at his get-up, he raised a hand, still tinged with a soft amount of dirt, likely from sneaking to his carpentry job that morning. Ms. Pam’s house, four streets over.

Then you saw her, through the sun-drenched light that came in with the open door. Ellie had a frown on her lips, maybe because her gown was also too small as she pulled it over her body. God, couldn’t that school get anything right?

For once her hair was out of its usual bun, pushed uncomfortably behind her ears. All you wanted to do was rush forward and kiss her rosy cheeks, poke at the freckles on her nose, prominent as ever under the Jackson sun. But you had a little too much shame lodged in your chest to do so.

Your parents had been accepting, as did Joel, when the two of you curled your hands into one another’s in November of your sophomore year, and announced that you and Ellie, your two doors down neighbor, were girlfriends. Accepting as they could have been, at least. It took your mother a while, she’d excused herself from the wooden kitchen table she sat at the day you told her— and took a few weeks before asking you where along the line your childhood friend became more. She asked how innocently kissing the knees Ellie scraped on her skateboard, and Ellie’s fingers scooping into the frosting of the cookies you were making for your eighth-grade bake sale had turned into... this. You just gave her more time to understand.

By Junior year prom, your mother was almost smiling as Ellie hugged you to her chest behind the small camera Joel held outside of their one story soft blue ranch-style home. She pressed a hand to your cheek as Ellie tugged your hand into Dina’s, your shared friend, car and told you to be safe. That was always her way of telling you to have fun.

So you shouldn’t feel ashamed to lean forward and kiss your girlfriend of over two years as you two got ready for graduation, but you still did— just not because of your company.

Ellie didn’t notice the slightly odd feeling radiating off your body as she had launched her converse covered feet over the small welcome mat near the door and into your arms as you reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Today’s the day!” She’d cried, fern eyes sparkling. You smiled and nodded, though when you parroted, “Today’s the day,” it didn’t mean the same.

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

Halfway through the graduation, your feet began to hurt. Not because you were standing too long. No, all 350 of your small-town senior class were given pull-out plastic chairs that sunk into the green grass of your football field, facing the rows of fading grey bleachers that families sat at, folding the pamphlets handed out to fan their sweating faces, a backdrop to the relentless drone of teachers delivering speeches under the sun.

Your feet hurt because your shoes were too small, the heel too tall. You had bought them when you were thirteen and visited New York City. The ankle strap was wearing thin, clamped around your flesh in a way that kept you rolling your ankle over and over. They were the nicest pair of shoes you had, and the only ones that didn’t make you cringe to look at. A shiny black color, with a gold gem on the strap. Surely you could have found any that looked the same at a department store near the Ski resorts at the edge of town, abandoned for the summer season. But then they wouldn’t be special, wouldn’t have been from the bright-lit city on the east coast.

They looked beautiful with your dress.

Ellie tipped her head down to rest on your shoulder, mumbling a soft, “This is soooo boring.”

Her red graduation cal tumbled off, landing on the green blades at your feet with a muted thump. Unaware of the tension, she nuzzled against you. Her cheek brushed softly, oblivious to the subtle stiffness that coursed through you, raising nervous goosebumps beneath the red fabric. You, however, couldn't escape the feeling, your heart gently aching at the touch. With a sigh, you surrendered, melting into her.

Jesse, stationed to Ellie's left, couldn't resist a snicker. His messy black hair peeked from under his cap as he playfully kicked Ellie’s fallen cap forward. Ellie leaned down to grasp before a nosy teacher scolded her for not paying attention. “Hey!” Ellie whisper shouted at her friend, before finally grabbing and fitting the red cap on her head again.

Ellie had decorated her’s with a beautiful hand drawing, black and brown inked sharpies on the red cloth, bleeding gently out on her lines of a moth and leaves, surrounding the blue inked symbol of a college forty minutes away.

You hadn’t decorated yours at all.

“It's almost over,” you console, fingers reaching out of the red fabric sleeve, sliding over the heated plastic of your chair to grasp at Ellie’s hand, squeezing it gently.

It’s almost over.

You smiled as best you could when your name was called, ignoring the tightness of your gown, or how the color of the dress contrasted the bright red. You ignored the pain in your toes as you kept your eyes straight on the podium where your Principal stood, grinning too brightly for someone who never once looked your way in the school— as he handed you your diploma. You put on your best smile as you posed for the hired photographer, but it never reached your eyes.

The smile that did reach your eyes was that of when your best friend walked across the stage. You whooped her name loudly and tried not to let your heel dig into the dirt as you clapped and jumped. “WOO CAT!”

The true smiles, the ones that found your eyes, came out as each of your friends crossed the stage. Your heart swelled to the brink as Dina and Jesse walked, followed by Ellie.

Your eyes fixated on her auburn hair swaying in the soft breeze, clapping so fervently that it stung, your grin stretching from ear to ear. The joy became tangible when Ellie received her diploma, a scratched scream leaving your lips.

Ellie graduated, your Ellie graduated.

Ellie who held your hand so tightly as everyone stood, who glanced at you with that cheeky smile when the microphone scratched during the countdown to throwing your caps.

Ellie who tugged you against her and smashed her lips into yours the moment she heard, “You are now graduates! flip your tassel!”

You do your best to focus on how perfect her smiling lips feel against yours instead of the impending doom filling your stomach.

Dina on your left tugged your cap off your head, throwing it in the air the same moment Jesse did so for Ellie.

You were sure your heart should have bursted through your ribs right then and there, your lips slotted against Ellie’s, giggling so hard against the kiss that you had to suck in a deep breath whenever she gave you a second— forgetting the awful feeling in your gut as Ellie brushed her nose against your own.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” her warm breath heated your cheeks, “We can do whatever we want now, we have all the time in the world.”

Your bursting heart had sunk as quickly as the graduation caps that fell on the ground around you.

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

Your parents never really let you go to parties in high school. In fact, they were rather strict, your phone on a table downstairs after 10 pm, doors locked when the sun came down. Rules about where you could go, and when you could go. The sort of rules that just made you sneakier. But graduation was different, no sneaking was required when your father shrugged at the explanation of the after party your class planned. A bonfire for students to throw all of their papers into, cheer, and celebrate around the burning memories of high school.

You left out the part about how it was being held by James Summers, whose parents never questioned why heaps of six packs and half drained liquor was being carted into their backyard.

“Go have fun,” your father sighed, lips around a mug, the smell of black coffee in your nostrils. You never understood why he drank it with dinner. “You're a graduate, celebrate. A lot going on tomorrow, anyway.”

His head nodded toward the sealed envelope on the table, a stamp with a zip code from California.

You swallowed and turned on your heel.

The air was thick when you stepped outside, the sun setting, grass slightly dewy with humidity. You hated how it smelt, how it felt against the tank top you changed into. You kicked rocks under the toe of your shoe, staring up at the hues in the sky, counting each new star that appeared in the darkening colors behind pursed lips until you heard the boom of music behind the metal doors of Jesse’s car.

He had the biggest car of the group, a black SUV from 2010, scratched up on the left side from when he bumped into a pole. You only ever used his car when everyone needed a ride, and seeing as how you had expected the party to go— you definitely should’ve only used one car, the driver agreeing to be the designated sober friend.

A faint whiff of weed lingered on her grey sweatshirt, likely courtesy of Cat, who sat beside her, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. She blinked lazily, black liner smudged down in the corner. “Ellie fought me for that damn seat,” she muttered as her head poked out, “So greedy with you.”

Dina poked her head back from the passenger seat, smoky eyeshadow caught in the yellow color of the overhead light. “If she’s choosing the shittiest seat, let her.”

“Buckle up and let's go!” Jesse declared, hitting the gas hard enough to elicit a yelp from you, your head thudding against the back seat as the door slammed shut.

“Shit Jesse, you’re such a dick,” you whined.

“A dick who’s gonna be sober at the biggest fuckin’ party ever so he can drive you all home.”

All of you groaned because he was right.

The windows were down the whole ride, the music too loud and pouring out into the open wind as they sang along. Your friend’s eyes were closed and heads tipped back, Cat leaned out the window and sang loudly to the 2000s pop song she demanded, Dina laughed loudly and leaned into the back to cheer her on, curly ponytail swishing as her brown eyes crinkled at the corners sweetly.

You just smiled gently, taking in the moment as much as you could. Ignoring how much you hated seeing the same road you did every day outside the window, how you could close your eyes and still list off every patch of land you zipped passed.

Instead, you try to take in what Dina’s laugh sounded like against your eardrums, how it sunk into your heart and squeezed it with a harsh grip. You took in how Cat’s short raven locks whipped against her forehead as she fell back into the car, lips parted and pearly white teeth sparkling.

You took in how Ellie’s eyes flicked around everyone, looking at ease as she slapped her hand against the back of Jesse’s seat to the beat of the song, a strand of reddish hair falling from its place in the hair tie she stole from you. You memorized what her throaty voice sounded like as she sang along in a tune that was not at all like her actual, beautiful, singing tone. One you only heard when the crickets sang outside, pressed against her windowsill as her fingers strummed over the old guitar from Joel’s study, deep into the night when you snuck over and asked for her to play a song. No, this was goofy and loud, a stupid loud bellow from her cracked lips, cut up by laughs and gasps after every few words. You made sure to commit to your Ellie-labeled folder of memories how she turned to you, nose crinkled as she urged you to sing along, shoulder bumping into yours.

You wanted to remember it all.

You knew this may be one of the last times you saw them all together, at least this happy— this excited for what came next.

“Guys,” you call suddenly, a rush of emotion forcing the word off your tongue and right to your feet as you realize what you’d done, three heads turning your way as Jesse lowers the radio.

Tell them. Tell them.

“I just, I really love you.”

What a pussy.

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

The setting for your final party was a tightly packed backyard with no fence near the woods. Clusters of seniors and underclassmen that snuck in filtered across the cobblestone near the glass door of the basement and all the way into the green leaved trees. Small fold-out tables held jungle juice, as bright red with cranberry juice as your gowns had been, and half empty and scattered beer cans. People whooped and hollered, they threw down graduate caps and little posters with your classes graduating year in the form of all different kinds of party favors.

In the middle of the backyard sat a large rock pit, filled with cut chunks of wood and smaller, sadder branches that drunk senior boys likely raced around the woods to find and throw into the fire. heaps of papers sat at the side, collections of every paper assignment from the groups of students.

Everyone at the party agreed to throw in and burn the papers at midnight, signifying the first day of summer and the end of your last day of high school.

By 11:30, all of your friends but you and Jesse were drunk. You were tipsy, enough to make your head light and your limbs heavy— tight heart a little less tethered in your chest as your back settled against a tree, curling your legs to your knees, tucking your chin on the soft skin there, eyes lidded as you watched your friends pass around a half gone blunt.

You should tell them.

“D’ya think we’ll like— be friends forever and stuff?” Dina questioned as her fingers brushed against yours, your pointer and thumb pressing gently against the blunt and bringing it to your lips, not answering.

“Don’t ask that type of shit,” Cat chastised, shaking her head. “So cheesy.”

“Of course we will,” Ellie muttered quickly, scooting closer to you on the rock you were seated on, taking the burning blunt after you.

You felt a little too sick for more than one hit, tilting your knees away from Ellie’s arms that sought affection.

Her eyes caught on you just for a brief moment, a soft look of barely there confusion before being interrupted by Jesse’s kick on her shin, “Blunt.”

You let yourself drown out the following conversation about the graduation, humming half interested or offering a small nod and chuckle of approval as your eyes focused on the cliques behind your friends' heads. Kids you’d grown up with your whole life, smiling widely and knocking into each other, chanting words you couldn’t decipher over the speaker that blasted as loud as it could across the lawn. You wondered if any of them had the same sense of dread you did. If the graduation felt more like a guilty secret than a moment of freedom for them too.

You should tell them.

Your thoughts snapped back to your friends when a voice filtered through the cloudy blockage. “Babe.”

“Hm?” your gaze fell back to the flushed face of your girlfriend, who held her hand out, now stood up. “I said they’re lighting the fire soon, doofus.” She frowned, confused by your sudden zone out.

“Oh shit,” you stood, fingers clasped around hers as she yanked you up.

You let go of her hand as soon as you stand, and ignore how your palm burns at the loss.

Ellie looks at you again, oh so observant Ellie, who reaches for your hand again, squeezing it so can’t push it away. You can’t bother to try anyway.

“You good?”

“Yea, jus’ smoked a bit much.” You nodded and smiled weakly, pointing your joined hands to where Jesse, Dina, and Cat stepped slowly in front of you. Ellie hurried both your feet over the grass to meet them as they shoved each other for the best look on the bonfire.

You and Ellie ended up behind the group a bit, as neither of you had brought your own papers to throw in the fire. Ellie said she hadn’t ever been good at collecting old assignments. You threw them out the moment your last class ended. You’d torn down every studying calendar, shoved every textbook and damn ruler into a trash bag and tossed it away. None was left by graduation.

You need to tell her.

James Summers perched on a stack of logs behind the bonfire, his throat cleared, bellowing as he shook around a small container of gasoline in hand, “We’re fucking free!”

The entire crowd erupted in cheers as Ellie's hand discreetly looped around your waist, offering a squeeze. She pressed a kiss to the side of your face, and you bit the inside of your cheek.

You were sick.

Everyone began throwing their papers into the pit, the gasoline scent filling the small and tightly packed area, mixing with the overwhelming stench of sweat and cheap alcohol. You could barely breathe it in anymore.

“Three!” James called.

“Ellie.” your voice cracked.

“Two!” The crowd yelled. Ellie looked over at you, noticing the discomfort etched across your face, and furrowed her brow.

“What’s wrong?”

“One!”

“I'm leaving. I’m leaving Jackson in three days.”

Ellie gleamed in a sudden surge of bright orange, heat tickling your face and screams ringing your ears. The fire had been lit, sparks of embers flying through the air as students swatted at them and laughed.

All you could see was Ellie. You watched slowly as her face dropped, as her sun kissed freckles flashed to a sudden pale. You watched as her hand dropped from around you, letting the sickeningly humid air hug your middle instead. Far less comforting than the itch of her bracelet against your skin.

All you can hear is the sharp gasp of air Ellie intakes, all you can hear is the choked question that dies on her lips. All you can hear is the crack of your ribs, maybe your heart, under your chest.

“What?”

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

“What?”

You blink blearily, rubbing your heavy eyes as you’re pulled into reality for a moment, staring at the tilted number of James Summer’s mailbox. The seven at the end barely holds on as it hangs loosely over the faded white paint. Your name follows the one word question, and then again. Shit, how long had you been unfocused? Your cold fingerprints dance over your fogged window absentmindedly.

“Mom,” your voice sounds whiny, like a tired child whose bones ached in the cold Wyoming winter. Being in this town sort of made you feel that way. “I said I’m about fifteen minutes out. My car made a weird noise on Maple Street, I took a break.”

Your father’s voice crashes through the grainy sounding speaker next, and you can almost imagine his face poked down to the place where your mother held the phone out. “Well did you check your gas?” You sigh. “Yes, dad.”

“And you’ve had the heat on? Know you probably haven't used it down in California much, but it’s important,” the slight edge to his voice has you twisting your hand down the window a bit harsher, “I’m not stupid, of course my heat is on. It gets cold there too, y’know,” Your eyes shoot to the dial, craning your neck with embarrassment, the heat was barely on. Thank god your parents didn’t like the concept of facetime.

“It was probably the fact that I dunno– I drove it fourteen hours?” you snap, any other building complaints dying in your throat as you instead focus your head out the window, a familiar flash of black hair nodding down the slick and cracked sidewalk to the left of you.

It was Jesse.

He looked the same, kept his hair the same overly complicated hairdo that you knew took him ages, even if he defended he woke up like that. He still had the same winter coat, though it landed awkwardly above his wrist as he whistled to his family dog, Lena. It almost shakes you, how stuck you feel in a moment of the past. You ignore your mother's calls of your name, chewing nervously on your lip. Hadn't he transferred to an out-of-state college two years ago? You saw so on one of your drunken social media stalkings. Maybe he was visiting for the Holidays? Maybe he was visiting Dina and Cat.. and–

“Turn your car on again!” your dad’s voice cut through your thoughts. You take one more look at Jesse, blinking like you were looking at some old photo or video from high school. He really did look the same. Only he was taller now, if that was even possible– less boyish in the charming smile he offered as Lena slid gently on a patch of ice. You slump down against your seat, shielding your face as your fingers turn the keychain filled car key still in the ignition. It rumbles to life softly, with a few spurts of an angry sounding engine before it settles into a normal low hum.

“It’s fine now.” You grumble, hearing your father’s tongue click. “Well hurry then, we have things to get ready for.” Your mother scolded as you shifted the old car into drive, refusing to look to your left as you started down the street, knuckles holding the wheel so tightly they hurt. “Bye.”

The click of your call ending allows you to take a long loud breath, sitting straighter in your seat as your eyes glance to the overstuffed duffle bag in your passenger seat. It’s with the heaviest clothes you could find in your mini closet back home– back in your home in San Francisco. It was a lot of sweaters and old tattered jeans you would have to layer to survive the cold without being ushered to wear your mother's awful coats or have an old scarf from middle school thrown around your neck to keep your cheeks warm. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do.

You hadn't had much time to pack properly, pull boxes down of clothes you only wore when it got really cold in your city during the winter. A split second decision after another fight over text messages with your mother sent you in a whirlwind of getting to Jackson as soon as possible.

You had narrowly avoided coming to your hometown for any holiday, let alone winter ones, ever since you left three summers ago. Both Christmases since then were spent in California, the promises of a beach holiday with warm sun pricking at your parents' skin and all the best events in Malibu lured them the first year, and car troubles you couldn’t afford to fix if you bought a plane ticket drove them to your home in San Fran the next.

It had not been enough this time. Your mother begged for months, going back and forth with you during every call, every picture she sent of a new poster lined on the local grocery store of Ski lodge events, light shows, any snowy magic that you could not find on the concrete streets of your home.

What finally broke you was your mother's rushed words last week, against a little screen you stared at in your dark living room as your roommate’s rushed words about work drowned out around you. ‘What are you avoiding?’ the text message read, ‘Do you hate where we raised you that much? Are you that embarrassed by where you're from?’ the next came. The words danced in your head, mingling with the soft music that played from the record player in your area.

You planned the trip the next day.

Maybe that made you weak. Maybe avoiding coming back to the small cold town this long made you weak. You weren’t sure anymore. Either way, you ended up here, after a very long drive with constant pauses and lots and lots of music to drown any thought that built inside your nerve wracked brain during the lovely endeavor of making it across the different states.

Taking your car in the first place was a decision no one you spoke to really understood. It would have been a short flight, easy to get through the airports, easy to be picked up by your parents or a cab. Maybe somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew why you had chosen this route. it prolonged the journey. It gave you more time to wallow in the kingdom of pity you had built yourself in these past years since you’d left. It provided the perfect out, need be. Your tire popped on the interstate. Your engine started sounding weird 10 hours in— something like that. Something to cower away as you had done three summers ago.

Surprisingly, you made it past the large sign that wrote Jackson’s town name in big green letters without making an excuse with your old car.

You could just coop up in your parent's house anyway, avoid prying eyes or curious old friends you may run into at the local market or the bar you used to always wish you could creep into. You could just…hide away, right?

By the time your mind cycles through every thought that sits in the divets of your creased brow, you realize you have arrived at your parent's driveway. It must have been muscle memory to get you to this point, and your tight grip loosens as you come to a soft stop behind the other car in your— your parents driveway. You settle back into the cushion of your seat as you peer outside the windshield, sighing gently.

Nothing has changed, of course. The grass was yellowed now, as it did every winter when bogged down by the constant frost and flurries. You were pretty sure it hadn’t snowed here yet, but the vegetation sure looked just as dead anyway. The large tree that edged the property, longest branches brushing against one of the side windows— one you used to squeal at in the dark as a child, make your father show you to was not a monster, scratched against the house still.

Your mother got the front porch fixed though, it was all she could talk about last spring. Without the burden, even if she wouldn’t call it that, of raising a child or putting them through college, she had the money to fix the creaky wood. It was replaced now by pretty and perfect panes that showed no signs of the little feet dragged over it for eighteen years. No one would know how many times you fell forward on the second step and scraped your knees or busted a lip. No one could tell the stains of ice cream you and.. you and friends had dropped on the light wood every summer. It had all been erased with the renovation, and you shouldn't feel so odd about it, but you do.

Your eyes are blurring from how long you are staring, unmoving as your skin runs as cold as the air outside, rushing through the memories. But the swing of the front door has your attention, your mother waltzing out quickly, her head twisting around as she searches for you. Your fingers twist your ignition off, hand reaching to your passenger for the purple duffle bag.

Your name is called shrilly from behind the fogged glass, and your eyes fall closed for a moment, begging the sky above for the patience you need as you step into the Jackson air. “Hi Mom,” you greet, one arm reaching over your head to stretch with a large yawn as your mother rushes over, fists clenching and then unclenching as if she was in thought.

She wouldn’t hug you. She never did. But when she blinks at you and says, “You should change out of those clothes, take a shower,” you know she’s doing the closest thing she can to an actual sign of comfort.

You nod, not willing to start an argument in the first few minutes of your trip. Your eyes fall to your sweater and soft pants. “Yea— yea.”

Your mother gives a tight lipped smile, nodding her head toward the door like you needed any assistance on how to reach the entrance, scurrying in front of you.

You follow silently, catching glances at your neighbor's houses. You almost pause, almost tilt your chin back and try to find the powder blue house you couldn’t get out of your mind, but you fight against the impulse, following your speeding mother to the door as she ushers you into the warmth of the entryway.

“Where’s dad?” you ask, freezing hands tingled as you step into the dense house, enveloped in the heat with a sigh. Now it smelt like cinnamon and cedar, the candles of the season for your mother. Your hands rubbed over your sweater, trying to rid the awful feeling of such a quick temperature change.

“Kitchen,” your mother hummed, tugging the duffle bag from your arms, frowning as she moved to the zipper to inspect what was inside. Nosy as ever. “You’re fine with staying in your old room?”

“Yea?”

“Just never know with you,” she sighed, clambering up the stairs before you could question what she meant. Your feet turn to the hallway, trailing your hand over the soft white wall, counting each picture that lines the wall. Only one included you and your parents, the biggest frame in the hallway.

You remember the day it was taken. Your freshman winter break, a knitted hat pressed over your head, face scrunched in a laugh as your father slapped his hand on your back, hot chocolate running down your fingers and into the white sweater you wore. Your mother looked horrified, a half smile on her face as she leaned over your father. It was one of the only moments you remember fondly all together. A moment you truly felt that warm feeling people described about family. Your fingers had been burning with the spilled drink, and your father couldn’t stop laughing at the sight, even as your mother scolded the both of you.

Maybe you remember it so fondly because of who took it. Joel had, and you can almost bear the chuckle of his now, beating against your ears as you meet the tile of your kitchen.

Your father is hovering over a kitchen counter, frowning and squinting at one of the cookbooks that’s almost as old as you. “Hi,” you interrupt his focus.

His head turns, and crow's feet crowd the space at the corner of his eyes as he smiles. “Hi kid,” his fingers release the cookbook, meeting your steps into the kitchen, which they must have just changed the lightbulb in— because the soft yellow was much too bright now— and wraps you into a hug.

“You made it in one piece! I'm surprised!” he teases, and you nod as you wiggle free from his embrace, stepping back. “sure did,” you throw a thumbs up, “why are you looking at that?” You nod to the book.

Your dad’s eyes flit away from yours, and you swear there’s a sense of nervousness as he shrugs. “Looking for something to make with the soup. Think I’m just gonna grab crackers and cheese though.”

“Soup?” you groan.

“Uh uh, no whining,” he shook his head. “only make food the people who live here like.”

You throw a hand over your chest and hiss, “Ouch?”

You smile when he rolls his eyes. “Your mom has people coming over,” he refuses to meet your eyes again. “She wanted soup.”

“What?” you pause, “someone’s coming over?”

Before your dad can answer, your mom is in the room again, sniffling. “The window up there is still letting in cold air,” she speaks to your dad, ignoring your frown. “They’re going to be here any minute.”

“Who?” you ask again, this time a little louder. You don’t like the feeling in your stomach, the rock that feels lodged there, pulling down your posture, making your hands shaky.

Your mother doesn’t answer you, instead pursing her lips. “fix your sweater. or take a shower like I asked.”

Your hands reach to do so without a second thought, and you find yourself cursing your instincts to listen. Maybe she would have answered you if you refused.

A ring at the doorbell has all three of your heads turning. Your father turns away when you try and meet your gaze, going back to the stove to stir the soup.

You follow on your mother’s heels as she goes down the hallway. “Why didn’t you tell me someone was coming over? I just got here! what if I wanted to sleep?”

“You can go up to your room if you want. I planned this before you decided to finally come home for once.”

Ouch.

“What do you mean you planned it?”

Your mother looked your way for a second, her chin over her shoulder as she frowned at all of your questions. “They're alone all of the time,” she called your name like a scold, “we let them spend holidays with us. that includes the preparations.”

You want to rip your hair out as you groan, more high pitched as she reaches the door, “who?”

The doorknob turns with your mother’s hand, and the air is knocked from your chest as she grins at the open door.

“Joel! Ellie!” she greets.

You truly think your knees are going to give in at that very moment, the rush of frozen air against your cheeks the only presence keeping your body held up as you stumble away from your mother.

You look at Joel first, you see his greying hair, you see the beard he was now sporting, gruff as his lips quirk up, wrinkles more pronounced against his cheeks and forehead as it dips down to greet your mother respectfully, the person behind him eyes stay glued to the floor. “Evenin’ ”

You don’t want to look at her. You don’t want to let your chest exhale any air as her chin tilts up, and her eyes find the space behind your mother’s head. Find you.

She looks at you, and you feel every single stepping stone you had made these past years, every damn lock you’d formed over your chest, every stone you had leveled to your ankles to keep your head out of the clouds, your feet on the ground— all collapse. They crumble right at your toes, and your chest heaves with the very first flash of that fern green.

If you were a stronger person you would have turned your cheek, maybe even turned right around and back to the kitchen, the safe haven of your father’s quiet stirring. But you weren’t. You were weak, and that weakness manifested in the eyes you couldn’t pull away from Ellie.

Was she breathing? You couldn't see her chest moving. Were you breathing?

“Ellie,” Joel called, snapping the staring contest to a sudden stop. Your name follows, “Hey, ‘s nice seeing you.”

You try to smile, try to be polite like your mother taught you. It comes off a little shaky when you say, “Nice to see you too sir.”

“Naw it hasn’t been that long has it? You can still call me Joel.”

“Right,” you giggle, hoping no one notices how forced it sounds. “Nice to see you, Joel.”

Ellie’s eyes move back to you, looking nearly shocked by your voice. It reminds you how long it has been. How the last time she had heard you speak it was your raw throat in the corner of that graduation party, cheeks wet with tears. Was that all she could remember you by? You shake off the thought, not willing to dip into the memory of what happened after you told Ellie you were leaving that night.

“Why don’t you two catch up while Joel helps me and Dad with dinner?” your mother suggests.

God no. Please no, no, no.

“Uh—” she turned to look at Joel. Did she cut her hair? When did she cut her hair? It was shaggy against her cheek, jaggedly cut and settling longer in the back. “Oh uh— yeah. yea.” she nods.

When her lips part, you have to force yourself to swallow, have to will yourself to focus on the words she’s actually saying. On how her tone is shaky and nervous, on how it’s just a twinge deeper. Maybe that was just you making things up. Maybe it was just the cold.

Your mother nods at you, a cold hand on your arm as she passes, giving it a quick and tight squeeze. It wasn’t a comfort, more a warning as she flashed her eyes at you.

A swallow forced its way down your throat as you planted your feet into the ground, unwilling to move as you watched your mother escape down the hallway with Joel. Did they know what happened? Was she warning you to be nice?

Surely they didn’t know. You hadn’t told your parents what your break up was like. What that night was like. Your move was a death wish on the relationship anyway, so when you told your parents it was a mutual split… neither of them questioned it. They weren’t as privy to that hollow look in your eyes the following days, or how you holed yourself up in a sweatshirt that wasn’t yours. It was easy to lie to them.

But Ellie.. had Ellie lied? Would you blame her if she hadn’t? If you were the villain in the story she told, would you even really have any right to fight that? You’d tasted the poison on your tongue the last time you saw her, and felt it spill into the summer air with every word. You felt the sting of salt twinged angry tears on your cheeks, the heat of your touch on a bewildered Ellie. You press nails into your palms before the memory plays.

Maybe you *had* been the villain.

“Hey.”

You find your attention following the low word, finding the pair of lips they fell from. Ellie’s cheeks were red, and you began to count the freckles on the bridge of her nose. Her eyes almost met yours though, so you turned to watch how she stuffed her hands quickly in the loose dark jeans she wore, rocking back on the feet, the white shoelace stuck under the tip of the shoe.

“You still don’t tie the knots tight enough?” was all you could say. Not hi, not the most basic respect of eye contact. Just.. that.

“What?” Ellie asked, a noise that almost sounded like a chuckle coming next.

“Your shoe, it’s untied.” You offer, straightening your trembling hand to point down to where she stepped on the lace. She used to always tie her laces too loose.

“Oh,” Ellie’s head dips down, and you focus on the new haircut again. She had to have done it herself, the ends that fall just below the middle of her neck are slightly uneven and jostled, slightly grown out from what you suspect was the original cut.

“Yea.”

You didn’t know what to say other than that, and the silence hung heavy in the air as you both opened your mouths, only to simultaneously close them again.

“Girls,” the sweet, saving voice of your father flew down the tension thick hallway. “Soup’s ready.”

“Cool— or uh— yea. Coming,” you stutter, not bothering to catch Ellie’s gaze, avoiding the nausea it would bring.

“Just a second,” Ellie says after, pausing before she adds, “jus’ have to tie my shoe.”

Your eyes flick closed for a second, an odd mixture of that nausea and something a bit more delicate in your stomach, one that almost makes you want to pull the frown from your lips to instead quirk up.

You pad down to the kitchen, the soft muttering of your mother and Joel at the small wooden table, your mother’s favorite patterned ceramic bowls on top of soft flower table mats pushed in front of them. They have a Christmas magazine in front of them, and Joel is rubbing his fingers over his chin as your mother prattles on.

“You think you could make that?”

“Oh, I mean— that’s an awful lot just to have done in two weeks, but I could try..”

“Stop hounding the man,” your dad warns playfully, setting down two more bowls at the table, two chairs pulled out next to each other.

There was no way you would survive this dinner.

Ellie’s footsteps find the tile of the kitchen soon thereafter, and you avoid taking a seat, eyes stuck on the suddenly very interesting change of kitchen window curtains. “I have to um— use the bathroom,” the other girl said, jutting a thumb toward the hallway again.

Joel huffs quietly, giving a look to Ellie that you can’t quite discern through the quick glances you offer that way every few seconds. “Soup’s gonna get cold.”

“Really have to piss dude.”

“Ellie!” Joel scolds, eyes wide as he looks between the girl in the doorway and your mother at the table.

“I know- I know, sorry, I’ll be quick,” Ellie stumbles over her words, something she always did in conversations she didn’t know how to handle, shoes squeaking against the floor as she finds the bathroom door again.

“I think—” you clear your throat, looking toward your mom. “I’m gonna take you up on the offer of shower and sleeping.”

As always, you’re choosing the easy way out, avoiding the situation as a whole. “I’m sorry, sir—uh— Joel.”

Your head dips respectfully, a sign of apology for escaping out of the dinner, but Joel and your father are both shaking their heads. “Did one hell of a drive, go sleep,” Joel waves you off.

“Goodnight,” your father adds, one of his soft smiles aimed at you, speaking for both himself and your mother who remains silent and staring at you.

“Night,” you whisper, turning out of the kitchen and to your right, but instead of heading to the stairs, you press your back to the wall, squeezing your eyes closed as you try to find a most average breathing pattern.

1…2…3…4, fuck.. what were you supposed to count? 5 things you can see.. 4 you can touch.. 3 you can...

“Well that was… awkward.. a bit of a mess,” your mother’s voice flows through the white wall, and your cheek turns, as if pressing your ear to the paint would actually make the echoed voices clearer.

“Of course it is, it’s been three years, it'll take time, that’s all.” your father muttered, and you can imagine perfectly how his eyebrows furrowed at your mom’s comment.

“Dunno,” Joel, ever the gossip, sighed. “I don’t think those two ended off well.”

You hear your name in the mix as your father continues, “She said she left on good terms.”

“Maybe. But, shit, I’d never seen Ellie like that, how she was that summer.”

Your head fell back on the wall, a bottom lip sucked between your teeth as you breathe through your nose. You shouldn’t listen to this.

“That girl.. she doesn’t like to talk,” Joel muttered, pausing— maybe to take a sip of soup.

“Her either,” your dad offers on your behalf.

“But,” Joel added, “tchh, she was a wreck. Yellin’ at me more and ignoring Jesse at the door. Had to force her to go shower, like a little kid— drag her out her room to eat,” Joel added.

Your fingers pressed into the bottom of your sweater, and you try to rid your eyes of the pictures it painted of a messy Ellie, of swollen eyes and glossy green irises. You tried not to imagine Ellie with red cheeks and tangled hair, ignoring Joel’s pleas to leave her dark bedroom. You’d loved that bedroom, but the thought of her pressed under the grey comforter, blank expression as she ignored your— her friends, well it ruins that nostalgic illusion.

“Wouldn’t tell me why, but.. when I found out your girl had left.. ahh, well I knew. We never talked about it, but it was a rough few weeks.”

The bathroom door clicks open, and Ellie’s eyes look a little red as she moves past you in the hallway.

“They were teenagers then,” your mother concluded quietly. “I’m sure they’re over it.”

Sometime during your eavesdropping, your hand found the space over your chest on your sweater instead of the bottom, fingertips pressing over your ribs as if the pressure pain could remove the ache that settled much lower from the words.

Ellie’s flushed face met your gaze for a moment, and yes— her eyes definitely were a bit red. She didn’t smile at you, but she didn’t scowl either. You would have rathered that, than the unreadable eyes she gives you, a soft pause as her eyelashes flutter, probably confused why you were pressed against the wall.

You scurry past her, shoulders knocking as you do. A quick shock spreads down your shoulder and arm, fist clenching and then loosening. Ellie disappeared into the kitchen as you found the stairs.

This was going to be a very, very long holiday season.

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#𖤐 . ─┈ tis the damn season #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams angst #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x fem reader

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lezbianchae · 8 months

Text

Sugarcoated.

Sugar mommy Mina x Fem reader.

Mina loving her sweet girl in every way possible.

Words: 1.4K

Being someone sugar baby was NOT on your bucket list.

You had met Mina through a dating up, you’re in your 3rd year of collage, and had realized that you still haven’t dated anyone, so you took it as an opportunity to try to meet someone. That was until you met Mina. Mina and you would exchange messages back and fourth, for months on end, Mina started falling for you and vice versa.. Mina had claim you as her sugar baby. Mina would offer to pay things like your school tuition, buy you supplies you needed for school, offered you to live in her fancy house, and you took it, who would deny that, while having a gorgeous woman loving you too.

Mina would take you shopping to designer stores, and let you pick out the outfits you’d like until one day, Mina took you to a store that was a bit different then what you’d usually go to.

“Hey Mina? What is this place..?We don’t usually go here..” you said so innocently. Mina held your hand “don’t worry about it baby.. you’ll see once we walk in okay? I just don’t want you to freak out once we walk in, okay?” Mina’s soft spoken tone reassured you. You weren’t worried or anything, but Mina wanting you not to freak out had you very curious for sure.

Mina holding your hand, as she leads you into the store. You’re greeted by some manikins only wearing a limited amount of silk and lace on them. It had now hit you that Mina, brought you in a lingerie shop. Your face started heating up, your cheeks turned red as you look down at the pretty shoes Mina had gotten you recently, as you clenched the older woman’s hand.

“You okay darling~?” She gave you a small smirk after she had noticed your reaction. She cups your cheek.

“M-mhm..M-mina.. what are we here for..?” You questioned. “Oh. I thought it was obvious, I wanted to pick out some pretty lingerie for my baby girl.. I wanna see her in some cute panties.. or maybe even a matching set? Hmm..I’m sure you can help me choose..! right baby?”

You nodded. You were a bit mind bogged, while Mina just giggled. “Good girl.” She out of strand of hair behind your ear as she praised you.

The two of you looking throughout the store Mina showing you different panties and bra’s, selecting you to try on, that was until Mina saw this set that had caught her eye. It was a cute pink velvet set. It had pretty ruffles and lace around the straps along with a little ribbon in the front of the chest, and on the sides of the panties that would give her easy access to you. Without hesitation she has put back everything else she had picked out for you as you watched.

“Here.” Mina said. You grabbed it questionably, getting a good look at it.

“You don’t think this is too gir-“

“You should try it on.” Mina interrupted. You being the obeying girl you are, just agreed. Mina led you to the dresser, as she waited outside.

You tried on the cute underwear, getting a good look in the mirror. You actually really liked it. You were surprised how well you thought you looked. It even came with a pair of cute thigh highs with ribbons on the top of your thighs.

“You okay in there baby?” Mina exclaimed.

“Y-yeah..” you said while still admiring yourself in the mirror.

“Hey, maybe don’t show me okay? I wanna see it when we use it for its purpose.”

“Purpose..?” You thought. All you did was take it off, and put it back on its hanger for and gave it to Mina for its purchase costing around 400$.

The car ride home was quiet. Mina just keep thing about how you’d look in that set. As she was driving with one arm and gripping your thigh with the other, as you two make your way home.

You and Mina had finally reached home, Mina hands you the bag.

“Put it on.”

“Right..now?” You slowly took the bag from her.

“It was an order.”

“Y-yes ma’am..” you walked into the room you and Mina share, as you dressed yourself into the velvet, laced pink lingerie, along with sliding on the thigh highs. Mina walks in behind you, as she closes the door behind her. “C’mon, turn around let’s see it.” So you do. You gave Mina a slow twirl, as her her eye widen. “Oh wow..just look at you. Oh you look so dolled up just for me.” Mina gives you seductive eyes, as she plays with you hair, giving you a peck on the lips. She starts to kiss you and plays with your tongue as she starts to grope your cute butt. You whine in between each kiss. Mina had been craving you and this outfit had really riled her up.

She had broke the kiss. “Get on the bed.” Mina whispered, her words felt like velvet passing through your ear. As you walk behind you sitting down, as Mina pushes you down, caressing the sides of your hips, kissing and kissing and kissing you leaving little bite and lipstick marks around your body, reminding you that you belong to Mina and only Mina. “You look so pretty darling, I really could just eat you up.” Mina undresses herself, takes off her blazer, and her business pants and only unbuttons her top, reveling her black lacy bra and panties. She always has pretty underwear in case she wants to do you. Mina places you on top of her on her lap, as she grips your hip, she starts untying the ribbons on the side of your panties removing them. “Oh my..baby…look at you, already ruining the set mommy bought you with your wetness.” You were dripping for Mina. She kept kissing,licking and biting your tummy. You just stood there and took it, as you whine due to your desperate needs.

“M-Mina.. please start touching me..”

“Hm? What was that, I could have sworn you said Mina, and not mommy.”

You whimpered, tired of the teasing.

“Please touch me mommy..I need you..please.” Mina layed you down now on your back, as she spreads your legs holding your hips down, giving you licks on your warm cunt. You let out a few moans gripping the velvet sheets, arching your back upwards. Mina starts inserting two of her fingers in you, licking the top of your clit.

“Oh baby, you taste so good.. you’re doing such a great job for mommy..what a good girl you are.” She plunges her fingers deeper and rougher. Mina just loves listening to you crying while you’re just begging for a release. “M-mommy.. I’m so close…please..” As Mina plunges her fingers as soon as you’re about to cum, she stops, and takes out her fingers as she leaves you crying and Wimper after the sudden stop. “M-mommy.. why’d you stop..” Mina plants a kiss on your lower abdomen.

“Give me a second baby I have a surprise for you.” As Mina pulls out a box under the bed, your eyes widen as you watch her put on a strap on. It was long, and boy were you worried it wasn’t even going to fit. “Don’t be scared baby.. c’mon turn around.. ass up baby girl.” She flips you over again.. grabbing a pillow and placing it under your tummy, you were a bit smaller compared to Mina, so she gave you a little boost to help her out. “Atta girl, here we go.” Mina slowly slides inside of your wet puffy little cunt.

“M-mommy!” You whimpered out. “Shhh..you can take it, I’ll slow okay?”

The older girl starts to move, as you tightly grip on the bed sheets. “If only I had a real dick, I could breed for hours on end.” Mina whispered in your ear, as you clenched around her. You could already feel yourself so close again from the previous orgasm attempt. “M-mama.. I’m close a-again..” Mina rubs the sides of your hips as you moaned her name over and over. “Is my pretty girl about to cum? Is she about to make a pretty mess on her mommies dick?” You cried you couldn’t take it anymore, you released all your juices while panting, Mina helping you ride out your high. “That’s my girl.” Mina slowly removed herself while your juices drip out of you. You layed flat on the bed for a good 15 seconds. “Y/n..baby..? Let’s get you cleaned up okay..?”

After Mina cleaning you all up, she gets in bed along with you, tucking you both in, kissing your forehead. You snuggled up on her bare breasts.

“I love you y/n I’m so happy you’re mine and mine only.”

#twice #twice x reader #kpop smut #twice smut #Mina #mina x reader #writing

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linopls · 6 months

Text

kinktober day twenty-four

sex toys fem!reader x sub!hyunjin warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, its a surprise hehe 2.1k words

“hwang hyunjin, i swear to god i’ll kill you!”

“y/n-”

“you weren’t supposed to know about this!” you gesture your hands to the opened velvet box on the kitchen table.

it was your and hyunjin’s five year anniversary this coming saturday, a huge milestone. the two of your have dedicated the whole week to spoiling each other and hyunjin thought he would surprise you by cleaning the whole apartment. he started in the kitchen, then the living room, and then your bedroom. his first bedroom project was your closet, he knew how you despised how unorganized it was but you were way too busy to clean it.

he started by taking all your clothes off the hangers and putting them on new, matching ones. he took all your shoes out and built you a small rack to put in the bottom of the closet. he cleaned off the top shelf and organized the clutter and threw away stuff you complained about taking too much space. as he was placing your new shoe rack back in the bottom of the closet, he found a black box tucked away.

the two of you had built your relationship on trust, you told each other everything. so he didn’t think much of it when he pulled it on and set it on your shared bed and opened it, planning on how to organize it. to say he was shocked at the contents inside was an understatement.

“when did you get it?” hyunjin asks, removing the contents from the box and examining it.

“don’t touch it!” you snap and grab it from his hands. “you never saw it, you’re getting rid of it as we speak.”

“no, what?” hyunjin pouts, resting his hand on his chin. “you don’t even want to try it?”

you stop dead in your tracks, your eyes dart back and forth between your boyfriend and the item in your hand.

“have you had it this whole time?” hyunjin wiggles his eyebrows towards you.

“two years ago, i think,” you answer unsurely.

“why didn’t you tell me you bought one?”

“i didn’t buy it.”

confusion paints hyunjin’s face and he looks back at the item. you watch as his eyes gloss over, the same expression you’ve seen so many times when you take control instead of him.

“h-how’d you get it then?” he asks, tugging his bottom lip nervously with his fingers.

you can’t help but become aroused, seeing hyunjin like this goes to your head so quickly and makes your panties wet.

“yunjin got it for me, gag gift.”

“why didn’t you tell me?”

“didn’t think you’d be interested, that was wrong i supposed?”

hyunjin’s face flushes red and he adjusts himself in his seat awkwardly.

“hyunjin,” you purr. “do you want me to use this on you?”

hyunjin gulps, he almost looks like he might cry. he looks back up to you and you swear you could cum on the spot. when you were given the gift, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to use it on hyunjin but you were always too scared to ask. it wasn’t until the past year or so you and hyunjin started to really experiment in the bedroom, but you were worried that this might be too far.

“yes, y/n. please,” his words come out as a whiny beg.

you’re shaking at this point, with nerves and excitement. you try and calm yourself down and straighten out your thoughts.

“we couldn’t go straight to it today, we’d have to prep you and str-”

“already did.”

your jaw drops, the thought of hyunjin preparing himself for this makes you soaked. you can literally feel your panties sticking to your folds. you grab hyunjin with one hand and the box with the other and drag him into your shared bedroom. you attach your lips to his neck before even closing the door and bite and suck on his soft skin. he moans and whines in response as his hands wander your body.

you push him back onto the bed and set the box next to him. “hyunjin, are you sure?”

“so sure,” he whispers, he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his pants and slides them down his legs. you watch in awe as he kicks them off his ankles.

he stops for a second, covering his exposed self with his hands. you can tell he’s nervous and unsure.

“hey, it’s okay, love.” you caress one of his thighs with your hand. “we can stop if you want.”

“no, ‘m okay,” he whispers. “can you also be naked?”

you giggle. “of course, baby! what do you want me to take off?”

“s-shirt, please.” he sits up on the edge of the bed and slides his hands under your shirt.

you assist him in pulling the shirt over your head, and he immediately attaches his fingers to your bra clasp. you slide the undergarment down your arms and hyunjin attaches his mouth to one of your nipples and attends to the other with his fingers. you throw your head back and tangle your fingers in his hair. hyunjin’s hands wander down to your hips and into the waistband of your pants, sliding them down your legs.

hyunjin pulls away from your breasts breathless. you look down to the pretty boy and caress his cheeks with your hands, running your thumb over his bottom lip. he looks so ruined already and you haven’t even touched him yet.

“y/n,” he moans, taking your thumb in his mouth and sucking on the digit.

“tell me what you want, baby,” you say, arousal dripping down your legs at the sight in front of you.

“you. i want you, y/n,” he gasps.

he takes your hands in his own and trails them underneath his shirt, pulling it over his head. you take one of your thumbs and trace it over his hardened nipple. hyunjin whimpers out in response and his muscles visibly flex under your touch.

“be more specific, baby,” you tease, pinching his bud between your thumb and index finger.

“i want you to f-fuck me, with y-your strap, ‘lease.” his entire face is flushed red and his chest feels hot.

“will you help me put it on?”

he nods and reaches over to the box to grab the harness. he holds it out in front of you and you balance yourself on his broad shoulders and step in. hyunjin slowly slides the black leather up your legs until it rests on your hips. he then moves to tighten the straps, he pulls at them to check their strength and smiles up at you when he’s done. you lean over him to grab the dildo from the box and hyunjin makes a grab at your ass.

“hey!” you gasp, snapping back up straight with the toy in your hand.

“‘m sorry. makes your butt look good,” he giggles, reaching back around to grab at the soft flesh.

you laugh and slot the pink toy in its spot. hyunjin watches in awe and gulps nervously when you place your hands on your hips.

“lay back, pretty boy,” you gently order.

hyunjin lays flat against the bed and you slide your hands up his thighs, when you reach the top you help him gently part his long legs. you catch a glimpse at a shiny plug snuggled between his soft cheeks and you moan and your head rolls back at the sight.

“t-told you, ‘m ready,” hyunjin mumbles.

you reach down to the toy and press your thumb against the base which causes hyunjin to squirm and whimper. he slides his own hands down his body and places them on either thigh to spread his legs for you.

“can i?” you grab the base with two fingers and hyunjin nods.

as you remove the toy, hyunjin moans loudly. you admire his gaping hole, teasing your finger around the rim. he whines and reaches back over to the box and pulls out the small bottle of lube.

“y/n, please. i need it,” he begs and hands you the bottle.

you giggle and place a generous amount of lube on your hand and coat your strap. hyunjin watches as you jerk the strap his mouth agape. you line the tip with his hole, smearing the slick with the head. he reaches down to grab your hips to pull you closer to him. the strap sliding in with ease.

you’ve never heard hyunjin make noises like this, his whimpers and cries drive you wild. as you bottom out completely his eyes go wide.

“are you okay?” you begin to worry that this is too much too fast and hyunjin is wanting to back out.

until he wraps his legs around your center and squeezes you tightly. he nods vigorously and whines for you to move. you unsurely place your hands on his hips and move your hips back and forth. you quickly realize that you’ve never done this before and have no idea what you’re doing.

hyunjin must catch on to your hesitance, he props himself up on his elbows. “b-balance yourself on my hips, push down as hard as you need to. a-and everytime you thrust, do it in an upward-ish motion. try it.”

“is this the method you use on me?” you giggle, doing your best to follow his instructions.

“mhm,” he moans and nods, you get more confident and move your hips a little faster. “works every time, doesn’t it?”

you nod and try to think back to what more hyunjin does when he’s the one drilling into you. an idea comes to your mind and you prop one of your legs up on the bed to give you a better angle. this makes it easier for you to move and must hit hyunjin’s spot even harder as he falls back on to the bed and his back arches off the mattress.

“y/n!” he yelps, clawing at the blankets.

“yeah? am i making you feel good?” your thighs smack harshly against his ass with every thrust and you dig your nails into his skin.

“s-so good, y/n,” he cries.

“touch yourself for me,” you command and one of hyunjin’s hands snap to his aching cock.

you’re going delirious watching the sight in front of you. you swear you could come untouched watching hyunjin feel this good. he furiously jerks his cock with his fist and you pound into him relentlessly. you watch as tears begin to spill over his cheeks.

“baby, please, please,” hyunjin wails. “so good, gonna cum.”

“yeah?” you cock your head to the side and slam your hips against him as hard as you can. “gonna cum for me? gonna cum on my cock?”

you understand why hyunjin loves doing this so much, holding this much power over someone gives one confidence they never knew they had. dirty words are just naturally pouring from your mouth like you’ve done this a million times. in reality you’re just trying to think back all the nasty things hyunjin’s ever said to you.

“fuck!” he screams. “yes, god, yes.”

“then cum,” you spit. “cum for me. show me how good i’m making you feel.”

hyunjin cums the hardest you’ve ever seen him before. his eyes roll back in his head and his back arches fully off of the bed. his thighs tighten against your hips and twitch like crazy. his cum spills all over his stomach and chest, painting such a beautiful picture. you slow down your thrusts, working him completely through his orgasm until he’s whining and repeating: ‘’m good!’ over and over again.

you slowly pull out and slide the harness down your legs and set it on your nightstand. you press a deep kiss to hyunjin’s plush lips before running to the bathroom and returning with a wet rag to wipe your lover clean. you press the warm cloth to his chest and he shivers at the sensation.

once hyunjin’s cleaned off you assist him in climbing under the covers and slide under with him. you lay flat against the back as hyunjin quickly moves to lay on your chest. you interlock your fingers in his hair and gently brush through the soft strands.

“are you okay?” you ask after laying in silence for a while.

“mhm, feel great” hyunjin responds, you can hear in his voice that he’s slowly starting to come out of his haze.

“did you enjoy it?” “so much.” he lifts his head off your chest to look at you. “it was amazing. you’re amazing.”

hyunjin has been bias wrecking me so hard i cannot do it anymore

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 4 months

Text

a/n: a quick little something that i couldn’t stop thinking about so i had to write it. the final hockey fic of the year and it feels fitting that it’s barzy after all the love you gave me on the last one. there’ll be more to come with this little family so join me for the ride in 2024! happy new year, all! 🫶🏻

word count: 3.4k

tw: super brief innuendo, vague mention of bad birth experience, brief mention of negative body image

summary: you and mat bring talia to meet santa at the islanders family holiday skate

You hum along to the Christmas song playing on the Alexa speaker, dancing and making silly face at Talia so she’ll laugh while you’re getting her ready instead of freaking out. “Santa, baby, slip a sable under the tree,” you croon in an off-key, over the top voice, “for meeee.”

She giggles, displaying the one and a half teeth she has popping out of her bottom gums. You bicycle her legs on the changing table, making quick work of her diaper change. “So, what are we thinking for the fit today, Miss T?” You tickle her bare tummy and blow a little raspberry on her skin, making her shriek with laughter again. “Oooh, I just love that sound.”

It’s two weeks before Christmas, Talia’s first, and you’re getting ready to head over to Northwell for the Islanders’ family holiday party. You’re excited to have Talia meet Santa and skate with her and Mat. The house is decorated, you’re speeding along to the actual holiday, and Talia’s being the sweetest baby. It’s wild to think that this time last year you were telling Mat about your pregnancy and after the craziness of the last few months of your pregnancy and Talia’s birth, you’re finally feeling more normal and less anxious about doing something wrong.

“Maybe a dress,” you lift the seven-month-old onto your hip and wander over to her closet, where all the clothes are color cordinated, thanks to Liana’s Thanksgiving visit. You flip through the tiny clothes, the little hangers clacking against the rack. Talia bounces on your hip, kicking her feet and you’re convinced that you have a permanent bruise on your ass cheek from where her little heel constantly makes contact. “Or how about the little plaid jumpsuit from Auntie Syd?”

Talia giggles and yanks at your hair. You wince and take your hand away from the jumpsuit. “Okay, maybe not the jumpsuit. I’m thinking red velvet dress for Santa and something warmer for skating, what to you think, Talia Bee?”

You continue to narrate your actions while you pick out the little red velvet dress that you’d been unable to resist when you went to the Americana a few weeks ago. It’s so soft and you know Talia, with her dark hair and light eyes, is going to look like a Christmas angel. She’s the perfect mix of you and Mat, with Mat’s coloring, and you just want to spend your time staring at her and cuddling her, especially because you hadn’t been able to hold her right away after her early birth. Emotion clogs your throat as you think about those scary first days and weeks, and you make the effort to push those emotions away, kissing the baby on her forehead. “Okay, mama’s being silly,” you murmur. “Let’s get you ready.”

Talia’s decked out in her little tights and the dress, kicking her feet happily, hands fisting the soft velvet fabric of her dress. You brush her shock of dark hair off her forehead, tidying it up with a little red bow hairclip, before lifting her up and helping her stand on the changing table. She bounces her knees, squealing excitedly, and your heart expands.

You settle her back on your hip once she’s dressed and move around to pack the diaper bag, tossing the outfit change - a pair of hunter green corduroy leggings and a fluffy white pullover with a hood and bear ears - into the separate compartment from the diapers and everything else. You make sure there’s another, less fancy outfit change in the bag as well, plus her diapers and a whole host of toys to keep her occupied.

The Christmas playlist shuffles back to “Santa Baby” and you laugh a little, singing along dramatically to make Talia giggle. You dance around with her in your arms and jump when Mat’s voice breaks in through the music and your singing, “she’s really whoring herself out for Santa, huh?”

You turn and there’s your husband, leaning against the door to the baby’s nursery, looking handsome as sin in his dark jeans and cream sweater. His hair is slightly damp from his shower and he’s barefoot. A teasing smile splits his face.

You grin back at him, adjusting your grip on Talia as she lunges in your arms for Mat. “She’s just a woman who knows what she wants,” you reply, handing Talia over to him. He takes her easily and kisses her cheek.

Mat scoffs. “Sounds like a pain in the ass to me. Talia Bee looks like she’s ready to meet Santa, huh?” He wrinkles his nose at her and she giggles, grabbing at his face, little fingers hooking in his mouth. He play bites at them and she giggles, bumping her head against Mat’s. “Ow,” he mumbles.

You wipe subtly at your eyes, hormones still a little wonky, and Mat shakes his head at you. “No tears. I’ve got Princess T, we’ll hang out while you get ready,” he says, reaching out to nudge at your side to get you moving. He turns to Talia and says, “right, T? Daddy will entertain you while Mama gets even prettier than she already is.”

“Charmer,” you roll your eyes. “Do not let her get messy, please.”

“Oh, there went my plans to finger paint,” he laughs, making Talia laugh too. Their faces are nearly identical when they laugh and you can’t believe that this is your life.

When you finish getting ready, after only some minimal negative thoughts about the few extra pounds still lingering on your body, you find Mat and Talia in the den, entertaining each other. Mat’s laying on his stomach on the couch, a hand extended to Talia with a pile of puffs on his palm. He watches as Talia pinches one at a time and puts them carefully in her mouth. “Good job, T,” Mat coos, his free hand rubbing at the bottom of her foot.

“Puffs were a smart choice,” you comment, grinning when Talia looks over at you and immediately ignores Mat and the snacks in favor of waving her hands at you for you to pick her up.

Mat rolls partially onto his side to look at you and immediately wolf whistles, making you blush. “Hot mama,” he says, teasing you with his words. But the look in his eyes is all genuine heat and you wrinkle your nose at him.

“Stop that,” you wave him off, lifting Talia onto your hip. “I probably shouldn’t even be wearing these pants,” your free hand smooths over the black leather on your thigh, “I need to lose like another ten pounds.”

“You’re literally the hottest woman I’ve ever seen,” Mat says sincerely, getting to his feet and popping the remaining palmful of puffs into his mouth. The baby snacks are surprisingly delicious. He chews, swallows, and says, “if we weren’t nearly running late, I’d a thousand percent eat you out on the couch right now.”

“Mat!” You yelp his name and cover Talia’s ear with your free hand. “Little ears!”

“She has no idea what I’m saying,” he laughs, tilting your chin up so he can kiss you. His tongue slides past your lips and you deepen the kiss, grinning against his mouth until Talia lets out a shriek because neither of you is paying attention to her. Mat pulls back from the kiss and laughs harder, giving her a dramatic, smacking kiss on the cheek. “Can’t forget about the princess.”

You kiss her other cheek, smushing her face in between yours and Mat’s and Talia giggles happily, kicking her legs and pushing at your faces with her hands.

Talia naps a little in the car, her head lolling and cheek pressed against the side of her car seat. Mat’s hand stays firmly on your thigh for the entire drive and you try not to think about the way your thighs spread when you’re sitting. But when you get to the practice rink and all of the kids are running around, it’s easier to push those thoughts away. Mat carries the diaper bag and the skates while you have Talia and your purse.

“Let the party begin,” he crows dramatically, throwing his hands up in the air. You snort a laugh behind him while some of the guys roll their eyes at him.

“Party’s already started,” Bo teases, “with Barzy fashionably late.”

“Do you think these good looks just happen naturally?” Mat asks, pouting like Zoolander.

Noah breezes by with Brock’s two oldest kids yanking on his hands. He comments, “yeah, we all knew it took you a lot of work to look halfway decent.”

“Please continue chirping him,” you say, “his ego’s almost too big for the house.” Mat helps you take off your jacket while you’re still holding Talia and he takes the opportunity to pinch your ass in retaliation. “Ouch! I’m sorry,” you giggle. Talia tugs at your hair and you’re convinced that sometimes father and daughter have a psychic connection.

Mat wanders off to put your jackets somewhere and you end up in a little huddle with Sydney, Kristy, and Holly. They take turns cooing over Talia’s little dress and she thrives on the attention, giving them gummy smiles and giggles, drool covering her chin that you have to keep wiping off. The older kids are all wandering around, running in the open areas, and the noise echoes off the high ceilings in the rink’s lobby. It’s decorated for the holidays and you find yourself looking around for Mat to see if he’ll join you for a picture in front of the tree.

He appears, with a Santa hat perched crookedly on his head, and Jack Cizikas hanging off his back. “Did anyone see Jack?” He asks seriously, looking between you and the other women. “We can’t find him!”

Jack’s giggles are infectious and you find yourself laughing too, bouncing Talia on your lap. “Did you check the ice?” You ask and Mat turns around, like a dog chasing its tail, with Jack swinging around, laughing hysterically.

“I’m here!” He yelps and slides off Mat’s back. Mat widens his eyes in a dramatic expression.

“Whoa! Have you been there the whole time?” Mat shakes his head. “Your dad and I couldn’t find you!”

Jack looks up at Mat and then over at his mom, who’s hiding a laugh behind her hand. “Mom, isn’t Mat supposed to be good at spotting things?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. “Like pucks? I’m bigger than a puck!”

With that, he runs off to find the other kids, leaving the adults laughing in his wake. Mat shakes his head, “damn. The kid’s a savage.”

Kristy shrugs, “he spends too much time around hockey players.”

“That’s why we’re only having daughters,” Mat says to you, cupping his hand over Talia’s head. “They’re nicer to their dads than boys are.” Talia reaches for him and wraps her entire hand around his ring and pinky fingers.

You snort, “wait until the teenage years, I don’t think you’ll be singing the same tune.”

“Forget teenage years,” Sydney laughs, “Winnie’s terrible twos almost prevented Alice from even existing at all.”

“Let me have my fantasy,” Mat grins. “You guys are mean, right T? You’re not gonna be mean to Daddy when you’re older?” He lifts her from your lap and hugs her close, wincing when she yanks at a hunk of his hair while she giggles, leaving a spot of drool on his shoulder.

“How about we try that Santa picture while she’s in a good mood?” You suggest, getting to your feet to disentangle her chubby fingers from Mat’s hair. The last thing you need is for him to think another buzz cut is a good idea.

The other wives nod. Holly chimes in, “you have to get that picture before nap time otherwise it’s a total loss.”

Kyle and Ashlee are finishing up their pictures with Santa when you and Mat get over to the little workshop area that’s been set up. Luca’s grinning from ear to ear, a candy cane clutched in his fist. “Candy!” He cheers when he sees you and Mat, brandishing the sweet and nearly whacking Ashlee in the eye. She ducks a little and huffs a laugh through her nose.

“Not the first candy cane he’s had today,” she admits to you, while Kyle holds out a hand to Talia for a high-five. Mat helps her give the other man a slap on the palm and all three cheer.

“She’s still sugar free,” you grin. “But I can’t vouch for how much sugar the big child has had.”

“Absolutely none,” Mat cuts in haughtily. “This energy is all natural life endorphins, Squeaks.”

Mat’s natural life endorphins have him practically bouncing in to see Santa, all big smile and bright eyes. You’re both so excited to see Talia meet Santa for the first time and the man the team’s hired looks absolutely perfect for the part. He greets you all happily, with a booming voice full of joy. “Ho ho ho!” He laughs. “Who do we have here?”

“This is Talia,” you tell Santa with a big cheesy grin on your face. Mat has her facing forward, one forearm propped under her butt and the other wrapped securely around her stomach. She squints at Santa curiously, suspiciously, but doesn’t make a peep.

“Oh, ho! Talia, have you been a good girl this year?” Santa asks, a twinkle in his eye that you don’t think can be faked. He must be a grandfather in his real life, you think while snapping photos.

Talia pinches her lips together, her eyebrows drawing together in a furrow. Mat jiggles her up ans down a little, “T, why don’t you show off that Barzal charm? Give Santa a smile.”

“She’s usually very chatty,” you explain to Santa, who shrugs and says he’s seen it all. Mat lifts one shoulder too and goes to hand Talia over to Santa so you can get a picture, but the second she leaves Mat’s hands, Talia begins sobbing, letting out an earsplitting wail.

“Oh my god!” You take her back immediately, holding her against your shoulder and swaying so she’ll calm down. Mat’s apologizing in the background. “Oh, Talia Bee, it’s okay. Mama and Daddy are sorry. You’re okay.”

She keeps crying on your shoulder and you wince at Mat, who looks shocked and says, “I had no idea she’d freak out like that.”

“It happens much more often than you’d think,” Santa offers kindly. “The littlest ones like to have mom and dad in the picture too.”

Talia hiccups in your arms, she’s stopped crying now, but her face is still all red. You pepper soft kisses over her cheeks and forehead, cuddling her close until she starts chewing on the side of her fist quietly. Her head is tucked under your chin and she looks over at Santa with a pretty impressive stink eye, considering she’s only seven months old.

“I’ll keep a hold of her,” you tell Mat, “and we can all just get a group shot. Hopefully that doesn’t set her off.”

He agrees and sits on one side of Santa while you take the other, carefully keeping Talia from seeing Santa directly. You smile and tickle Talia lightly, hoping it gets her to smile at least. Once the picture is taken, Santa offers you both a jolly smile and Mat a candy cane. He takes it happily and immediately unwraps it to pop it in his mouth with the hook part hanging out of his mouth. He scrolls through the photos that were taken and cracks up at one, showing it to you as you head back towards the main lobby.

“Oh god,” you giggle at the photo of Talia freaking out, her face bright red and mouth opened in that horrible wail. “This is so mean to laugh at.”

“At least when she needs therapy for her Santa phobia we can show her this as the starting point,” Mat jokes, while setting one of the nicer photos of the three of you as his new phone background.

“You’re horrible,” you swat at his arm, adjusting Talia on your hip. She grumbles and nuzzles her face against your shoulder, patting at your chest. She lets out a high pitched squeal and you kiss her cheek. “Okay, I know. You’re hungry, right, baby? Daddy can go get Mama a snack and I’ll feed you.”

You turn to Mat and give him puppy dog eyes. He’s already laughing when you ask, “will you get me snacks while I feed your child?”

He snorts. “Of course. What do you want, sweet or salty?” While he waits for your answer, Mat cups his hand over Talia’s head and rubs his thumb over the shell of her ear. His love language has always been physical touch, his hands always on your body in some way, and now he does it to Talia, constantly holding her little hand or cupping his palm over her head.

“How about a little mix of everything?” You reply, leaning over Talia to give him a kiss on the cheek before disappearing into one of the side offices so you can feed the baby. Mat brings a plate of snacks and once you’re done feeding Talia, he takes her to burp so you can get straightened out. While he pats her back, Mat tells Talia how excited he is to take her on the ice and how cute she’s going to look in her little sweater. You love when he’s extra adorable with her, it honestly makes you want to give him a dozen more babies. When Talia’s a little older and you’ve had some more distance from your labor with her you’re going to bring it up with Mat.

Half the team is already on the ice when you get to the rink after changing the baby into her warmer outfit. Everyone’s having a good time skating and the kids all look beyond delighted to be taking turns skating with their dads. You sit on the lowest bleacher level and watch Mat make quick work of his skate laces, tying off the knots efficiently. You go to hand Talia over so you can lace up your own pair, but Mat kneels in front of you instead.

“What are you doing?” You ask, watching him pull off your boots. He cups a hand around your ankle and guides your foot to the skate boot. You automatically wiggle your feet into the skates, reflexively stomping down so your heel settles into place. He adjusts the tongue of the skate and makes quick work of your laces too, knotting them tightly.

“Taking care of my girl,” he replies with a cheeky grin before patting your ankle to signify that he’s done and you can stand up. Talia reaches for Mat and he takes her, knowing that you’d rather he hold her while you’re on skates since he’s more comfortable walking on the blades.

“You’re sweet,” you smile, following him onto the ice, your phone in hand to take pictures. Talia’s eyes are wide and Mat holds her securely while she has her head practically on a swivel to watch all the action. She waves to everyone as they skate past, excitedly kicking her legs in Mat’s arms. Whenever one of the guys waves to her, she squeals happily, nearly falling out of Mat’s arms in order to reach for Gunnar Horvat when Bo skates past with him. Mat laughs and picks up his speed a bit to get the breeze on her face.

Your stomach twists a little nervously and you follow him, slower of course, saying, “Mat, don’t go too fast, okay? I don’t want - just be careful!”

He nods and slows down, spinning to face you and skate backwards a little. They both have matching looks of joy on their faces. “This is the best,” he grins, bouncing Talia in his arms and then leaning down to let her feet touch the ice. She giggles, kicking at it, and you take video, knowing you’re going to watch it back a million times. “She’s a real ice baby.”

“It’s in her blood,” you wave at Talia from behind the camera so she’ll look at you. Mat helps her wave back and swings her a little, grip firm under her armpits. She shrieks with delight as he swings her back up into the air and into his arms. Her little cheeks and nose are pink and the fluffy fleece makes her look like a little polar bear. “You are the cutest little baby in the world,” you can’t help but coo at her.

“All thanks to her having the cutest mom in the world,” Mat winks at you, skating away with a laugh.

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal x you #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #nhl fic

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danikamariewrites · 5 months

Text

Just Us

Mob!Azriel x reader AU

A/n: part 2 is here! Although I don’t really like calling it a part two because I don’t see it as a series, I don’t have a better name for it so we’re just going to call it a series. I just see this as a universe with ongoing stories/one-shit fics and headcanons lol. Thank you for all the love this is getting though! I’m so happy so many of you want to be tagged for these posts ❤️

Warnings: none

Series Masterlist

Digging out another option from Mor’s closet I start to panic. Azriel will be here in two hours to pick me up and it feels like every part of me is sweating from nerves. I wipe my hands on my leggings so I can grip the velvet hanger better. I turn to face the chaos Mor and Feyre have created.

Shoes from each of their closests and mine, eyeshadow pallets, and even more clothing options cover every inch of Mor’s bedroom. It’s all so…intimidating. I’ve been on dates before, but none of those guys were ever worth half the effort I’m putting in for Azriel. Which is probably why I’m freaking out more than normal.

As I lay out the dress on Mor’s bed my ears finally pick up what Feyre is joyously rambling about. “And then Gavin just backed off. I have never him seen him humbled so fast Mor, oh my gods. It was hilarious.” A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips. It was refreshing to see Gavin put in his place. Especially by someone like Azriel.

I circle the bed eyeing my endless options for dresses. My attention lands on one of Feyre’s black velvet cocktail dresses. It has a corset type bodice with tank top straps and a pleated skirt. It’s perfect.

Picking it up I break out into a wide grin. Feyre and Mor notice looking at me like proud parents. “What?” I ask with a slight giggle. “It’s just…you’re going on a real date. With a real man. I just feel so proud.” Mor squeaked out, wiping away fake tears.

I shake my head letting out a shaky sigh. “I like this one, can I wear it, Fey?” “Of course babe. This is going to look amazing on you.” She starts gathering the other dresses as Mor begins to look for shoes to match. Sitting me on the bed Feyre grabs my face and purses her lips in thought. “How do you feel about a very light Smokey eye?”

A knock on the front door - approximately two hours later - breaks my focus from applying mascara. “I’ll get it!” Mor yells from the living room. Just a few more strokes and I’ll be done. My hand shakes from anticipation. Maybe if I take longer he’ll get impatient and I won’t have to go.

No, don’t think like that. I deserve a nice date. I shake my body and check myself over in the mirror one last time. I look hot thanks to my best friends' combined effort. “Ok,” I whisper.

Heading out to the living room I can hear Mor and Feyre talking with him. Gods, I hope they’re avoiding embarrassing topics. When I round the corner my steps stutter. It’s not Azriel in the living room. It’s one of the males he brought into the gallery. The larger one of the two who winked at me. “There she is!” Mor said in a sing-song voice.

I walk forward and the male reaches his hand out for me to shake. “Hi y/n, I’m Cassian.” I take his hand, his calluses are rough against my palm as I shake his hand. “Hi, I remember you from the gallery. If you don’t mind me asking, where’s Azriel?” I hate how small my voice sounds as I ask but I don’t want Cassian to feel like I’m not trusting him or his boss. Cassian smiles at me. “He’s already at the restaurant, he just sent me to pick you up.” I nod and say goodbye to Mor and Feyre before they push me out the door.

Cassian opens the car door for me, taking my hand to help me up into the high SUV. I thank him before he shuts the door. The ride over to the restaurant was fast and quiet. I think Cassian could tell I’m nervous. When we pull up I notice the small parking lot was oddly empty.

I audibly swallow, staring out the window at the front door. Cassian opens the door smiling at me with a boyish grin. “Cassian, can I ask you something?” “Sure thing.” Concern flashes across his face. The scar above his brow crinkling in. “I just…is he…” I can’t find the right words to ask my question correctly. Cassian seemed to pull himself up straighter. “I know you know his job but he’s not cruel. Azriel can be guarded at first but I think you’ll get through to him easily. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” He smiles at me again, squeezing my hand in encouragement. I sigh, tilting my head to the side. “You’ve only seen me twice.” “That’s all I need. I know my brother.”

I nod and take Cassian’s hand again to step out of the car and he ushers me into the restaurant. As I look around I notice the dining room is empty. Most of the tables look like they have been cleared out so a special table could be set up in the middle of the room. Azriel is speaking to the chef and a male I assume is the owner.

Cassian clears his throat behind me to get Azriel’s attention. When he turns it feels like all the air has been sucked from my lungs. My heart flutters at the bright smile he gives me. His hazel eyes light up as they look me up and down. I finally start breathing again when he stops in front of me. The scent of his cologne is intoxicating. The warm vanilla tones mixed with a light spice fills my nostrils. It’s comforting and makes me want to curl up next to him to breathe it in more.

Azriel takes my hands in his large scarred ones, bringing them up to his lips to press light kisses across my knuckles. I didn't notice the scars marring them before. They were beautiful. Like a torrent, restless ocean. “You look absolutely stunning this evening.” A blush heats my cheeks, a small smile appearing on my lips from his compliment. “Thank you. You look handsome as well.”

He drops my hands holding his arm out for me to take like he did in the gallery two days ago. Azriel continues being the gentleman that he is and pulls my seat out for me, pushing me back in, and listens to my answers when he asks me about myself. When it was my turn I asked about his childhood, which seemed to be quite normal given the amount of money his family has. I also couldn’t help but ask why the restaurant was empty.

Azriel sheepishly smiled, looking at his entree for a moment before admitting he bought the place out for the night. “I prefer first dates to be more…intimate, if you will.” I let out a hum, “So you do this for all the girls.” I joke. Azriel looked panicked for a moment. “No,” he got out quickly, “This is, you’re the first one I’ve ever done this for actually.” His voice getting quieter at the end.

My heart leaps at the confession. No one has ever put that much thought into a date with me before and I told him how much I appreciate this.

“So, how did you get into art?” He asks over dessert. A delicoius crème brûlée with a perfect golden brown sugar coating. I break it with my spoon as I think about how to phrase my answer. "I've always loved art no matter what form it comes in. Paintings, sculpture, digital, all that stuff. I like that people appreciate something pretty or one of a kind, so if I can help them get their hands on it, it makes me happy."

I look at him, shoveling the sweet creamy treat in my mouth. Azriel smiles at me adoringly. Those hazel eyes twinkling with what I'd like to think is love. "That's amazing. Besides the two I got, how many paintings have you sold?" I let out a short, cold laugh thinking about how pissed Gavin was that I made a sale. "You were my first customer. and probably my last. As I know you heard my boss say I'm just an intern. I really should've called him but it was the end of the day so what was the harm."

Azriel shook his head. A dissaproving look takes over his beautiful face as he remembers the scene he walked in on yesterday. "I was ready to punch him." Azriel admits. "He had no right to talk to you like that. But I must say, you were a natural my dear. I probably wouldn't have bought the paintings wihtout your knowledge on them."

"Thank you." I say surprised that soemone didn't find my knowledge about art annoying.

When we finished the chef came out to say goodbye along with the owner. Azriel offered me his arm again but I took a chance twinning my fingers through his. We glance down at our joined hands. I smile lightly at the comfort I feel when I hold it. Azriel looks shocked that I would even go near his hands. "Is this ok?" I ask softly. He seems at a loss for words just nodding and staring at me like a boy realizing he has a crush for the first time.

The whole car ride back to my apartment Azriel doesn't let go of my hand. I rest them on my lap and gently rub my thumb back and forth in a comforting motion. When Cassian comes to stop in front of my apartment my heart sinks. I don't want Azriel to go. I'm not ready for tonight to be over.

"I got it Cass." Azriel says before Cassian can unbuckle. He leads me up the short steps, stopping on the landing. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Feyre and Mor crouched down on the couch. Their eyes just peeking over the window sill. Ignoring them I turn my attention back to Azriel who hasn’t taken his eyes off me since we left the restaurant.

He slips his other hand in mine pulling me slightly closer to him. “I had a wonderful time with you. And I really want to see you again.” Without hesitation I say yes, “I’d love to.” Azriel’s smile seemed to get wider. I must say, he’s not at all what I thought he’d be like. Not knowing how to say goodbye we stumble over our words for a moment until Azriel’s expression became serious. His face mere inches from mine now. “Can I kiss you, y/n.” Something about my name on his lips just seemed so right. “Yes,” I whisper.

Azriel’s lips are like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. The kiss is soft yet passionate and full of a desire I don’t think either of us would be able to sate. Pulling away for air I feel Azriel’s hands slip down my neck and pull away from my body. I hadn’t realized he was holding me. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” I nod, speechless. The air once again sucked from my lungs.

I slowly open the front door giving him a small wave before shutting it. Leaning against the wood I listen for his graceful retreating footsteps, the car door, and the engine as Cassian takes off down the street.

My heart won’t stop pounding. I rest a hand over my chest, a stupid smile on my lips as I’m off in my own fantasy world.

tags (accounts I couldn’t tag in bold): @amara-moonlight @harrystylesfan2686 @kalulakunundrum @thinkingofmatthewfairchild @just-a-social-casualty-1 @insecuritieeseatmealive @teenageeggscissorslawyer @theladystardust @thehighladywrites @callmeblaire @luell1q @meshellexplosionmurder @verena9003 @starsinyoureyes @mich0731 @yourfutur3lov3r @samanthalynn13 @enchantedatheart

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #azriel au #acotar azriel #azriel

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