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mooishbeam · 3 months

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『♡』 Brittle is Devotion

♡ featuring: ex-husband!toji x f!reader

♡ summary: it's been a while since you've seen your ex-husband, and on a drunken night, buried feelings emerge. wc: 12.2k+ (bruhhh)

♡ cw/tw: mentions of violence/blood, angst/comfort, rekindled feelings, rough sex, missionary, prone bone, full-nelson, overstimulation, cervix fucking, creampie, m/f receiving, throat fucking, sadism/masochism, dom/sub dynamics, squirting, fingering, praise/degredation kink, dumbification, edging, breeding kink, feral toji mmm, pet names (angel, sweetie, baby)

notes: good morning!! hope everyone is having a lovely day, i am so so so so sorry i haven't posted in so long i didnt abandon the account!! i've just been getting it together before the semester starts, and i didnt expect for it to be this long :(( im very tired but ill try to get some stuff out in the next couple of weeks, most likely long fics too. ty so much, and srry for any spelling mistakes. art by ilameys_ on ig! <;3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Picking up the pieces after Toji is rough. The divorce was bad enough, and you currently have an aching pain stilling in your chest that makes it hard to take the shallowest breaths. It hammers in the tight confines of your ribcage, and as you sob into your pillow the only relief you desire is sleep, so that you may have temporary solace from the grief wrecking your brain. Your new apartment feels entirely too shallow. There’s no crumby television to use because you were too broke to afford the higher-end appliances, or that creaking mattress you both squeezed into until you could thrift a reasonable headboard. You missed the 60s style tiles painted a horrific green in your kitchen, and the shower that ran out of hot water every other day. It was terrible, downright unlivable for most, but you had each other.

It hurts more because you love him. So much. Unbearably, to the point where you screamed at the top of your lungs until your throat scratched through angry hot tears, begging him to care for a moment, to give you a reason to stay. Countless times, threatening to walk out if he didn’t endeavor to change. But he never believed you. He thought you’d never leave, because all you had was him.

And it was true, for years it was. Toji was your dream man; funny and thoughtful. It wasn’t conventional kindness, but it was his. Money didn’t matter—even as you enjoyed a frozen meal on the floor of your empty apartment in the first couple months of moving in with him, you had a smile on your face. Even when your friends and family begged you not to marry him, because they couldn’t stand the sight of him and his arrogant, sometimes aggressive candor, you went on with it anyway. You knew who he really was at heart.

He was your first everything, you felt if he left, you’d melt to nothing and become a shell of who you once were, because Toji had become an extension of you. You waited for him to get home, had dinner, and slept through the outside commotion of cars and bar fights; his securing arm locked around you, hand cradling your head and legs intertwined. There was no one like him.

He knew that and got greedy.

To you, the change was fast, but it’d been spreading like a nasty mold for years. You’d sunk so deep you hadn’t noticed the drought until you reached the bottom. He taught you love, then pulled away; separated himself with additional shifts and pathetic excuses. In turn you punished yourself, showered him with heavier instances of love and endearment, and convinced yourself you needed to try harder. If the sex wasn’t daily, you gave him more. If he didn’t like the food, you learned how to be a better chef. If the house wasn’t clean, you scrubbed top to bottom. Wringing a tired towel, dry of sacrifice. Chasing after him until the soles of your feet blistered. Still, not a smidge of praise or approval came to fruition. When he did—which was rare—those peppered spaces ignited a lasting burn in your heart, keeping withering fire alive.

Soon, those fleeting kisses and distant pauses weren’t enough, and he didn’t care enough to change. You’d plead and cry at his feet, and he’d scoff and walk past you.

“We’ll talk about it later”, he’d say more often than not. You didn’t have the confidence to leave, and he consumed himself with whatever underground work he participated in, while you decayed in a declining marriage.

A grimace on his face, laid back on the couch and looking at you expectingly, as if you would drop to your knees and service him in a heartbeat—but you did exactly that. And you were tired, utterly tired of pulling the emotional and mental leaden baggage on your own. It was heavy, and you were crushing yourself underneath it. You still loved him with every inch of your being, and you’d do it all for him, but it couldn’t be just you anymore. He came home one fateful night to you sitting at the dining table, spotlighted under the stark glass pendant lamp in your dark apartment, dejection that foreshadowed the unfortunate end.

“Do you love me?” He gazed at your solemn face and scratched his head.

“Mhm.”

“Will you change?”

“No.”

That’s what you needed to hear. The next week, while he was at work, you gathered your clothes and measly possessions to leave. You sobbed the entire way through, shaking with uncertainty and fear of the unknown—unsure about a future without him. As you slid the dissolution of your marriage on the counter, the sudden reality made you unable to control your knees as you dropped to the floor, and tears spilled down your cheeks and freckled the papers. Luckily, Shoko was there to comfort you and help pack your things. The corners of that confinement spared a gentle, loving memory, and vitriol was left in its wake. Turning back to its hollowness for the last time, you imagined Toji, plopping onto the couch as he’d usually do to watch some late-night television show or going to bed. Like you weren’t there.

Maybe you never mattered in the first place.

It’s been a year since, and things are looking up for you. An opportunity surfaced in a field you were interested in applying for, and you miraculously got the job. Moving over a city helped you adjust to your new life—that, and a bottle of dark burning liquor. No matter how much you mindlessly typed at your computer or partied with coworkers, you couldn’t stomach the pit gorging through you, a hole that surfaced everything you’d been burying.

You’re not prepared to face the forlorn mock of your bleached walls today. As you pry your eyes open, the flickering shimmers through your sheer curtain cast across unattended sheets, soothed by stuffed animals strung along the comforter. You reach for something that isn’t there in your groggy state—a gentle reminder that your morning would be just as empty as yesterday.

Today isn’t any other; it’s what would’ve been your five-year anniversary. One year, of new beginnings and new friends. A year of solitude.

You don’t bother slinking out of bed. The accumulation of tasks awaiting you is more daunting than the actual execution. In an attempt to regain control of your life, you established a healthy routine. It entails waking up at early hours to exercise and work on projects and meal prep, and ending your night early with extra exercise and skincare. It was amazing at first and quelled your sadness. What they didn’t inform you of, was the spectacle; the appearance and perception of perfection, and not the struggles or gradual burnout of maintaining that lifestyle. When the distraction died down, and work and social activities became a congealed, monstrous chore, you quickly resented those limp salads and vomit-inducing runs.

You expel a loaded sigh and pull the covers over.

The vibration of the phone buzzing on your stomach peels your eyes awake. You allow it to pass, but it rings again. From a frustrated exhale, your languid hands muster the strength to flip to its notification; Shoko’s calling.

“Hello?” you mutter, fatigue caught in your throat.

“Fuck, you sound like hell!” she replies. The repetitive clack of office keyboards and analog phones being slammed by stressed out coworkers distorts the background. Thank God I used my paid time off.

“I love you too, Shoko.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean it like that…you ok?” It’s much sweeter. Shoko has always been a supportive friend, perhaps bordering on too supportive. You cherish her motherly concern, and rather vulgar honesty.

“Mm, I’ll manage.”

“I can come over after work.” You flip onto your back, soaking in the mild sunlight.

“S’alright, I’m sure you’re busy, and I might sleep in. Wallow in sorrow for a few hours.” Shoko drawls a dramatic groan and creaks back in her chair.

“Nothing good comes out of feeling sorry for yourself. Go to the club or somethin’.”

“‘N how’s that gonna help?”

“Better than whining at home. Wear something sexy, look pretty and get laid. That’s how I get over shit.”

“Mm, right. I don’t know if that’s gonna work” you giggle, toying with one of the ears on your stuffed bunny.

“Oh yeah, forgot you’re the born-again Virgin Mary now. You know… if you want to get over ‘him’, you have to take the first step.” You can envision her air quotations. She treats his name as forbidden speech, and regularly refers to it in conversation as “he who shall not be named.”

“Ugh, mother Shoko’s speaking.”

“Listen, it may or may not work. Don’t knock it ‘till you try it is all I’m saying.”

“Yea? Well, if he has a tiny dick, I’m blaming you.”

“Nothing wrong with shellfish.”

The last curl falls in place, and you follow it up with copious amounts of hairspray. Fanning your bathroom after a drawn out coughing fit, you get a good look at your figure in the mirror. The backless lacy black dress you’re wearing hugs you in all the right places and guides the detail sitting tight under your butt. It’s undoubtedly revealing, coupled with strappy heels and a dark cat eye.

You walk past your vanity and pause at the messy jewelry box, riddled with remnants of Toji’s adoration. Sparkling varieties of heavy necklaces and rings and precious diamonds; ninety percent of your jewels were because of him. You’d asked if he stole the items he gifted you, and he’d come up with an elaborate sarcastic story about a jewelry heist he carried out, and how appreciative you should be. Buried underneath rested your engagement ring, a sparkling cut that crowded your entire finger. You couldn’t bring yourself to pawn it, opting to occasionally revel in its beauty before shoving it in a far corner with your feelings.

Shoko wasn’t lying about how sexy you’d feel dolled up, and it shows in your confidence as you modeled around your bedroom, striking poses to no one. Your plushies weren’t very appreciative of the full-blown fashion show, but you hadn’t felt like this for a long while. Maybe it was about time you entered the dating scene.

The entrance to Infinity appears as a run-down tacky club from an outdated era, and it’s easy to miss the multicolored flashes dotting the black tinted glass on each side. A few steps past the black and white checkered vestibule, and you get to experience the scale of a roaring, clashing club. It’s not half as lively on the outside; sweat dripping under twinkling lights of multicolor, bodies colliding and moving to the melodic sway of erratic music vibrating through the floor, freely drowning and expelling their insecurities, deepest struggles. It’s both welcoming and hopeless.

A woman balances her shot glass as she gyrates against a stranger while another stumbles off the dance floor in a drunken stupor. The heat and screams are overstimulating, circulating around you. You consider withdrawing, especially since you held some reservations about partying solo. However, this is what you need, to get comfortable with doing things by yourself.

So you down shots, two, three, burning of different varieties that heighten your body temperature and nerve. You throw back a mix of dark and white liquor, a dangerous combo that dizzies your vision and runs up an unfathomable tab you can't afford. The strangers accompanying you at the counter encourage you. No rational thoughts, let alone decision making, register in your alcohol-sodden mind. Like strings being fielded by a puppeteer, your legs move on their own to the dance floor.

It’s hot. The blurring iridescence bends to produce shapes that make your fuzzy brain giggle for some odd reason. You’re moving in slow motion, and the world’s continuing at max speed. You don’t care either way. You’re light on your feet, and the music goads you to dance. Spinning, hands tangled between your locks traveling down the curve of your thighs, hearing the lyrics inside and out as if no one is watching.

You dance with women and men alike, anyone willing to help you overlook your heartache. It’s floaty, an airiness that spills sober thoughts from cotton mouth and makes every touch electrifying. It’s in your legs and arms, your restless feet and fingers. You laugh hysterically, incomprehensibly, and switch to sadness in a heartbeat. These aimless bodies, just as lost as you, drinking to your despair. Was it worth the abyss tomorrow held, or the agonizing headache as a result?

After those dances, mainly flailing efforts at rhythm, your head is barreling. You’re suffering from a heavy case of vertigo at the slightest turn, and your stomach’s riddled with knots. It hits you like a car crash, and you strive to stabilize yourself as bile fills your throat, cringing when you reluctantly swallow. A disorienting slurry of words and faces ask you things you cannot hear or see, and it suddenly becomes too real.

In few sparse moments, your life plays before you in stop motion. From heaving over the toilet while a lady with long nails held your hair back, to knocking the drink out of someone’s hand on your way out. Now you’re walking on one heel and holding the other. You might’ve popped a nail if not for security holding the door open. They attempt to flag you, but you reply with a curt slurred “‘M fine.”

You push your knees together, sitting on the corner of a curb. This isn’t how you expected the night to end. It’s pitch black beside street lamps, and awfully quiet in contrast to inside. Shivers ripple through you despite the persistent warmth pooling in your ears. You lean on a street lamp in the calm cold as people leave, probably running to participate in intimate affairs with their acquaintances. The gentle hand on a waist or shoulder forms a subconscious smile; young, passionate love blooming on a random night.

And you burst into tears.

Ugly tears streaming down your face in blobs that don’t stop no matter how much you wipe them, followed by deep sniffles. They smear across your phone while you search for a taxi app, and your cloudy eyes deceive you.

You jolt when a hand brushes against your arm and turn to meet the foggy face of a man with stubble. You wipe your wet cheeks and lean further from him.

“Hey baby, you alright?” The pet-name makes you shudder. You definitely don’t know him, and at this point there’s no one outside.

“Wh’re you?” you garble.

“Kusakabe. Where ya off to?”

“Waitin’ for uh frien’” Your eyelids waver, failing to stay alert under the frightening stare burning holes through your skull.

“A friend, huh…you gotta man?” he asks, stepping closer to you. You back away to the side of the light.

“Go away.” You’re definitive, but he laughs as if it were the ridiculous request of a child.

“I like that dress. You look hot.” His hand drags along the strap of your dress, but you nudge his hand.

“Mm’get off me. N’don’ need your help.” He scoffs with offense, and as you go to leave, he grabs your wrist firm.

“Relax. Tryna go home with someone tonight?” You’re trembling, tugging with as much force as you can muster in your punch-drunk state, but he doesn’t budge.

“L’ve me alone”

“Don’t be like that, baby. I’ll call a cab-”

Whack! Your wrist goes limp, and the crunch and crack of flesh hitting concrete echoes. You sluggishly pan to him, knocked out cold beyond the spotlight. The influence takes you, however, and you nearly find yourself joining him on the sidewalk. Before you can fall, a broad, rough hand supports your lower back. Their deep gritty tone is inches away from you.

“C’mon, sweetheart.”

You rise from an unusually sweet slumber. The light shines through your eyelids, unavoidable even when you maneuver the velvety warm blanket for shade. Your eyeballs shift across thin skin being prodded by intrusive sun, and as they crack open, you catch a glimpse of the glass coffee table in front of you, arranged with perfection resembling a furniture showroom. You smile to yourself half-asleep, wondering when you bought such an expensive item, and how an abundance of sunlight made its way through your average window. You’re drifting off anew.

Then, you shoot up.

You start to really take in the surroundings, and when you do, a pit drops in your stomach. An ultra-wide flat screen television faces you, decorated with plants on either side. Craning your neck, the long windows of this penthouse line the adjacent wall up to the ceiling, which hangs a glass geometric chandelier. This isn’t your bedroom, nor your apartment.

Instantly you switch to sitting, and recoil just as fast. Pain envelops the wrinkles of your brain, and you wince from abrupt tension. You palm the bridge of your nose.

“Fuck” you whisper. Last night replays in your head through staccato bursts, though you couldn’t remember the minutes before you passed out. Embarrassment creeps onto your ears at the freak show you performed hours ago. You’d made a fool of yourself, puked and tripped like a sloppy drunk college girl. You can’t be more ashamed, and to top it off, you’re in the house of a stranger you possibly slept with. You look down from the smooth sectional sofa, and notice your heels arranged neatly beneath you with your phone and bag. At the very least, the man you engaged with seems to be accommodating.

You scurry to put your heels on, and hopefully sneak out in silence before you face further humiliation. Something about this blanket smells familiar; musk and oakmoss and man, grazing across your nose like the aroma in an intimate embrace, the earthy dew of calm before a storm, a trace only you can understand.

“Finally up?”

It’s that gravelly smoky voice you lived in for five years, and some before that. The voice you fell asleep to, mumbling nonsense in your ear through boorish snores. The voice you fell in love with, easily saying “I do” when you wedded at the courthouse. The voice you resent, saying nothing at all when you cried.

You look behind you, and there he is, walking down the staircase. He’s wearing boxers, settled under the tufts of hair running down his belly button. His rugged muscles peek out from the untied black robe dangling to his strong calves. His hair grew out a bit since you’ve last seen him, shaggy bedhead running across his eyes and covering his ears.

He smirks the same, though, sweet and soft for such a dour man, like nothing ever happened, approaching you while you sneer at the cruel joke bestowed upon you.

“Toji.” You haven’t said it in forever. It’s abashing how quickly your regularly tense shoulders relax in his proximity.

“How ya feelin’? Hope the couch was comfortable enough, figured you wouldn’t wanna sleep in my bed” he says, rubbing the back of his neck as he stretched his sturdy back.

“It was fine.”

There's an awkward quiet afterwards. The air’s thick, glass straining under pressure, threatening to give way at the smallest disturbance.

Toji clears his throat. “So, um...you need somethin’? Water?”

“No” you bark, folding your arms across your chest. You can’t look at him, not without feeling enraged. You’re the afterthought, the chaser, rushing after a man who wouldn’t dare look twice. “How’d you even know I was there?”

“Coincidence” he replies, and you scoff. He couldn’t get away with lying to you; playing games with moves you’ve lost to countless times.

“Like hell it was a coincidence. I’m in a completely different city now, what were you doing there?” You have to physically bite back the words begging to spill from your mouth as his head wanders in thought, possibly concocting another fabrication.

“Had business”

“Oh, I’m supposed to believe the man who hates keeping a job had ‘business’. Okay.” You don’t acknowledge the extravagance of the apartment he must be paying for monthly. That, or a chain of illegal activities—whatever assumption suited your irritation in the moment.

“Well, ya wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said, anyway” he chides. You’re a shaken bottle ready to explode, and his nonchalant demeanor only eggs you on. Toji’s perpetually dismissive, looking down on you like a pitiful puppy.

“Because you’re always full of shit” you snap. He exerts a loaded sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose, as if he had any right to be tired of the situation.

“’M not lyin’.”

“Right.” You observe your surroundings more. It’s too opulent, pricey vases you wouldn’t expect from the ex-husband that once thought hanging jackets in the doorway was “decoration.” Definitely not fit for a single guy. You’re separated, and you know it's not your responsibility to keep tabs on his sex life, but that caviling thought won’t stop taunting you. How could he get over it so soon?

“If you were just gonna bring me back to your fuck pad, I should’ve slept on the curb. Who knows how many girls you’ve had here.”

He gets eye-level, sitting on the coffee table with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together like a drained salaryman, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? You can’t be serious. Like you never do anything wrong, like everything that’s happened until now is somehow my fault and you did nothing, nothing, to contribute to the bullshit. Stop acting like a fucking victim.”

“Little lady, you got shitfaced, and some guy was tryna take your drunk ass home. You’re lucky you went home with me instead.”

“I could’ve handled it; I don’t need you for anything-”

“You could barely keep your eyes op-”

“I would’ve handled it! Just like I handle everything else. Alone. Every time. It gets done, I’m not incompetent, Toji!”

You could hear a pin drop in the stillness. Those forested eyes are gazing into your soul. It’s said and done, and you’ve got it off your chest, yet it hurts like a freshly sliced gash. The arguing doesn’t change, married or not. It sucks when you shout, uncontrollable like a blazing fire, only to be snubbed out by his calm, condescending tone.

“...I know.”

You can’t take it, it’s stifling being near him. Wounds loosely covered by band aids seem to peel at his presence, and you’re stuck at his mercy again. You can’t give him the satisfaction of crying in addition to the drunk, poor decisions you made, hardening your expression as you fumble for your phone.

“Take me home” you demand. Toji stands with an exaggerated stretch on both arms, painfully slow. Before you can hurl your phone at him from the dramatics, he looks down on you with that intoxicating gaze.

“Are ya hungry?”

You furrow your brows, and hastily put on the other shoe. Turning on your heels, you go to leave, and are immediately stopped by Toji's calloused hand holding your wrist. You don’t watch, but his palm is gentle. You could smoothly slip out and exit his apartment, forget this engagement and continue a peaceful, isolated life. You’d move on eventually—perhaps to bigger, happier jobs and romances.

Despite that hopeful outcome, you remain.

“I don’t wanna eat. If you don’t take me home, I'll call a cab.”

“I’ll take ya home, just...look, I know you’re hungry, and I’m down to eat at a diner down the block. Don’t worry about a thing, I’ll pay for it.” Toji isn’t known for being docile, but with his curved posture almost leaning into you and dejection in his eyes, you swear he’s searching for pity.

“I said I’m not-,” The untimely arrival of your dinning, rumbling stomach cuts off any excuse. A corner of his mouth upturns, and your face contorts to scorned pride.

“...Fine. Let’s make it quick.”

“Great. Can’t have ya walkin’ around like that, though.” He pans to your chest. You haven’t thought to give your outfit a glance, but when you do, your eyes grow wide. The entirety of your conversation with Toji, your chest was spilling out the dress, and now part of your areolas is exposed. You cover up the top, but he stares with an x-ray's invasiveness. You reprimand him, swatting his chest;

“Pervert!”

There was an added benefit to being around Toji; the way people cleared a path for him and treated him with frightened kindness, afraid that pissing off the physically intimidating man would land them a one-way ticket to the nearest hospital.

They weren’t exactly wrong, and you have a satisfied pep in your step as people scoot aside. He strides in front of you to get the door, and you mutter a small “thank you.”

Sweet fluffy pancakes and charred grills mingle with faint notes of bleach. At least he knew better than to take you to a fancy establishment, especially since you were wearing a baggy t-shirt from him, and basketball shorts you had to tie around the waistband. His massive slides had you flopping across the dining aisle as you got to your booth. He’s not particularly dressed either, wearing matching shorts and a compression top.

It’s hard not to perceive the way women ogle him, drooling at the way his biceps flex when he raises the menu, and his chiseled jaw tensing while he ponders the food options. It was a notable problem when you were married. They’d glare at you, shower him with compliments in front of you, and you’d shrink yourself. Occasionally the waiter would pretend you don’t exist as she swayed her hips at every little thing Toji said. If they want him, they can have him. It’s not your business, right? It’s no different with this waiter, twirling the curl of her hair as Toji reiterates his order, shifting from one leg to the other to highlight her curves.

Not my business. You're nauseous.

Not my business. Your fists clench underneath the table.

Your head’s swimming in thoughts, uncertainty crashing down like a wave upon your increasingly loud intrusions. You drown within yourself, until you’re pulled out by a thumb travelling up your hand, and other fingers clasping around it.

“Watcha wanna order, angel?” You regain composure, and when you blink, Toji is waiting for you. The waiter side-eyes you and the joining of your hands.

“You lost? Take her order” he spat.

The food's steaming hot and fresh, and you salivate at the plate in front of you. Toji snatches your bacon before you can, and you begrudgingly watch as he breaks the strips into two pieces, the way you like it. He winks, and you groan. You coat your strawberry pancakes with maple syrup, trespassing territory around the scrambled eggs and bacon, and he laughs across from you.

“What’s funny?”

“Never stopped drowning your breakfast in syrup” he ribs. You pout and swirl your bacon, “It makes it taste better.”

Soon, food in your belly aided your dialogue, and the old banter returned; an easygoing flow, similar to a lifelong friend you hadn’t spoken to in decades. You giggle between bites and gossip about mutual rumors.

"What you been doin’ since..." Toji trails off, falling short of “divorce”—a word he never wants to say.

"Shoko recommended me to her boss, so I'm working uptown now. Pay's okay, nothing to write home about."

"S'good. Livin comfortable?"

"As comfortable as I can be"

"Real humble. Guessin’ it's better than before" he jokes, though you sense a displace in his bearing at the nervous grin he flashes. You reach onto to his side and grab one of the grapes off his plate. You pop one in your mouth, "So, what drug ring got you that house?"

"The cartel. Good vacation time, too" he jests.

"Nice. at least it's not that shitty garbage gig you had for a while."

"It did pay well."

"Yeah? Couldn't get rid of the rotten milk and vomit smell for weeks after. Remember I made you shower at Geto’s apartment?"

“Heh, yeah, he was fuckin’ pissed” he laughs, stealing a piece of sugary bacon from the syrup pool. "I'm a CEO, run a company downtown."

"Ooo, look at you. Can't be little if it did this much for you" you say as you gesture at the empty dishes on the table. Restaurants were a luxury in your household.

"I guess. I had a vision, and some people believed in me”, he pokes at the leftover blueberries, “I finally made it happen, that counts for something, right?"

You pick another off his plate, smile stretching, "You're a natural born leader. People will follow you regardless, even if it's not the right choice."

His eyebrows raised in surprise, "That's the first good thing you said about me today."

"Don't get used to it."

You wait for Toji to retrieve his car after walking back to his apartment. You’re awestruck in many ways; he paid for the whole meal with a black card and showed undying manners. He bowed to your requests. You’re smarter than this, though. This is his opportunity to get on your good side, and he’s showing the best version of himself. However, it fills your heart with want—like the initial dating phase, those butterfly stricken, heart-numbing, sappy gestures that made you melt.

He wraps around the car to open your door, and you plant yourself in the sleek beige interior. Your eyes flick to the veins in his forearm straining as he steers, his deadpan focused expression and the composed R&B music low in the background. It starts to drizzle, and raindrops plink the car roof.

You feel complete; And that alone is a dreadful reality.

The scar on his lip twists to a smile, “Did’ya like the food?”

You turn your nose up, “it was satisfactory.” He snickers, and navigates to the street your apartment is on. “Shit, I gotta give you your clothes back.”

“Forget it, bring it when you get the chance.” Chance. He expected to see you again. You hang your head as he approaches the complex. You didn’t want today to end, but this is it. You’ll leave this car and go your separate ways. This is how it should be.

You place an earnest hand on his shoulder and cast a smile. The corners quiver and your first syllable wobbles, but you finally speak, “I’m proud of you, Toji. I mean it. You’re going to do great things, and I’m always rooting for you.”

He swallows stiff, and suddenly he’s sickly pale. Something within you is pleased at that reaction; if he wants redemption, he should beg and drop to his knees and crawl for forgiveness, he should lock himself up for your eyes only and cut off everyone else in his life. You’re walking away a second time, rightfully so, but you struggle to decipher what you want in this moment. He palms your hand, staring at you, “I’m all for praise, but tell me when we meet again”

“Toji, there can’t be a next- “

“Give me your phone.”

“Huh?” His urgency throws you off guard, “Don’t think, just give me your phone.” It’s impossible to kill the complicated slurry that is your mind, and a new bundle of thoughts emerges from his request, but for a heartbeat, you allow yourself to wander. Pitter patter and muted music, heated seats, the cologne radiating from Toji—all that exists.

You moved on instinct, and now your phone is in Toji’s hands. He's adding his contact information. He hands it back to you, fingers brushing against your soft skin.

“I won’t text or call you. ’S there whenever you need me. Move at your own pace and call me when you’re ready.” With that, you exit his car. No hug or gratitude, skipping goodbyes as you rush out the car. It’s bittersweet when he pulls off, and you’re left with the ghost of him.

The familiar click of your convoluted keys in the apartment door could bring you to tears. You’ve officially reverted to your mundane, boring lifestyle. The walls look duller today.

You curiously click on his contact, and giggle at the name he assigned himself:

dumbass ex

tick, tock, tick, tock

The blue light beaming through your office computer is an eyesore, but you have little say in the matter. There's an upcoming deadline for these reports, you can’t waste precious skill complaining about circumstances out of your control. It’s tiresome, and you rove to the cobweb missing a string in the corner of the room, or the single drop of water roaming outside those wide sterile windows. The balls of your feet carry your flats as you absentmindedly push a pen against your lip.

Your concentration has been out of commission since meeting Toji. He kept his word and hadn’t called you whatsoever. A month passed, and still nothing. Be glad, you told yourself, get your goals back on track. Your exercises get vicious, from jogging to a full sprint, hoping that those buckets of sweat will shed off the extra weight of Toji’s abidance. The fruit bowl on your break offends you with mocking displays of strawberries and grapes. You’ve pondered deleting the contact entirely to repel enticement, but you can’t do it. It’s painfully clear that you miss him.

He’s horrible, callous and selfish. Of course, Toji had a way of showing up at your lowest to fill your head with empty promises and gestures of affection, that charming grin shooting daggers at your weakness. In his gaze, you’re defenseless, and in his arms, you’re exposed.

Albeit late, a pestering thought carves into you, unfortunate and disgraceful to the healing you strive to accomplish; message Toji.

A set of wheels rolls above the carpet, and you see Shoko, lifeless arms hanging beyond the armrests. The bags under her eyes signify stress from finalizing late papers.

“Unnghhhh, (Y/N), I can’t do it” she laments, drooping her head to the side. You pat the top of her hair, “I believe in you.”

“What are you working on?” She quirks a brow, and you stare at the screen with her. You’ve typed an entire page of straight gibberish. “I’m getting distracted too...”

“Let’s quit and tell her to shove it.”

“You know I can’t do that” you fuss as you backspace the document. “Mm, me neither. What’s got you zoned out?”

“Nothing in particular.” You’re afraid to tell Shoko of your rendezvous, she might become volcanic and fire magma at the sound of any “-oji”.

“I know it’s not nothing. New boyfriend, hm?”

“S-something like that” you chuckle. She shapes an ‘O’ with her mouth, and wheels closer. Her bangs touch your eyebrows, and she rests her chin on her hand. Her usual dead eyes have a malicious twinkle in them.

“What’s he like? Is he tall or short?” she gasps, “did you meet him at the club? I told you it was a good idea; I really am the best advisor.”

You sigh, “It’s no one new.”

“Ooo, an old flame. Spicy. What’s his name?” You turn slowly, a nervous bite on your lips. She studies your face, and slowly hers drops.

“Do not fucking say it.”

“Shokoooo” you whine, searching for sympathy from her. Instead of that, your body is shaken violently as she whisper-yells, “Are you kidding? Get a grip! What’s gotten into you, you were fine!”

“But I wasn’t. It sucks, I feel lonely all the time.”

“You felt lonelier with him than without him!”

“I know, but...” You ball your lips in with furrowed brows, and she holds her breath.

“I wanna go see him” you squeak. Instantly, she squishes your cheeks with both hands to hold you in place.

“Absolutely. Fucking. Not.”

At home, you pace back and forth in front of the phone resting on your bed. Toji’s contact is open, and nausea is brewing in your stomach. You’re giddy and ill, working up the courage to press “call”. You really should be practicing Shoko’s advice, but you’ve long surpassed common sense. You leave and come back, spying on it from a distance. Eventually, you forgo the theatrics and grab the phone to hit the messenger app.

Three dots vanish and resurface. You can’t get it right:

'Hey stranger I got custody of ur clothes rn'

'Hey haha I missed u can I come over?'

'Yo what’s up? Still have ur clothes do u want them?'

'I’m coming to give u ur stinky clothes'

This shouldn’t be complicated, and you don’t usually perform the process of elimination for simple responses, but it’s Toji. You’re scrambling and overanalyzing, reiterating your choice of slang only to delete it all over again. You settle for a simple message. “Hey Toji, I wanted to return your clothes. Let me know when you’re available. Thanks”

Once you hit send, you run a marathon around your bedroom, tippy tapping to expel your anticipation. The churning grows as seconds pass, and so does your doubt. You tiptoe to the phone as if a displaced floorboard would activate the alarm. You’re about to tap the screen, and then your ringtone plays.

Oh god.

You take a deep breath and swipe right on the faceless profile picture labeled “dumbass ex”.

“…Hello?”

“Hey, angel.” You avoid a dull pound in your chest at the memorable pet name. “So, um-“

“I wanna see you. I’m available now, and I’ll be home by the time you get here” he states, direct and confident. His conviction validates yours, you bend to his direction.

“Okay then. I’ll start getting ready.”

“I’ll send a cab to your address. See you soon.” When he hangs up, you dive into the pile of plushies. Squeezing them for emotional support, kicking your feet in the air as you scream into your ruffled pillows like a girl’s first crush. You have a long night ahead of you.

You access Toji’s building. He must’ve notified them you were coming, as the doors were open upon arrival, and a bellhop was sent to guide you to his floor. You’re standing outside of it, clothes and a bottle of champagne in hand. Your stretchy maxi dress clings to your figure, complimenting the juicy shade of lip gloss you’re wearing—the shade he loved most on you during your marriage. You ring the bell, and it doesn’t take long before he opens the door. The scene you’re exposed to swells heat between your legs.

Toji has nothing but a towel shimmied low on his hips, v-line adorned with veins and biceps corded with muscle. He’s trimmed his hair since your last encounter, and it’s dripping wet along with the rest of his soaked body. You’ve interrupted his shower apparently, but he didn’t hesitate to rush to the door, water cascading from the raven veil, sluicing down his sculpted chest. He had to have done this on purpose, but you weren’t complaining at this point; he looked damn good doing it. You can’t disengage from the beads branching amid his pecs and through his happy trail. God, you wish you were water personified right no-

“You’re staring, dollface” he teases with a smirk. Your eyes snap to his, and you remember to breathe. You clumsily hold up the liquid peace offering, “Brought a little something.”

“Thanks. Make yourself comfortable, I’m gonna get dressed.” You nod, and he marches upstairs. You don’t need comfortability; you need to be in and out of here before you do something you’ll regret.

But...is that cedarwood and vanilla? The interior gives off romantic energy at night, attractive dim lighting throughout and dull flickering pops of his fireplace in the living room. You find the source of that heavenly scent sitting on his kitchen island, and awkwardly place the bottle down. You don’t know what to do with yourself, more so you don’t know what to say. It’s hard to recite a script when things aren’t going according to plan. Did you want to apologize, or force him to apologize? Maybe you should’ve cursed him out, rehashed his asshole behavior from the past until he drowned in guilt. You want to kiss and slap him, cry in his arms until your voice gives out and disappear all at once.

There’s a beautiful clear vase in the center, crammed with your favorite flowers, and your fingers dance across the petals. “You like ‘em?” he asks stepping into the kitchen. His hair’s still saturated, but he’s sporting grey sweatpants and a black ribbed tank top. “They’re very pretty.”

“They’re for you.”

You switch between his playful expression and the burst of colors, “You don’t have to do that.” The bouquet evokes recollections of heated arguments—anytime he’d angered you to tears, and you slammed that bedroom door in his face, you always woke up to similar flowers on the floor. They were cheap, but it meant more than money; because despite the fights and disagreements, it let you know that he’d love you regardless.

“I wanted to. As thanks for bringing my clothes.” He’s pacing towards you, and you’re bound to the floor like melting wax. His gaze is captivating, and you’re entranced by the verdurous ardor that won’t deter from you.

“Thank you”, you say as he looms above you and inspects the scripture on the pale bottle. His large thumb blocks the intricate lettering he’s trying to read, “I should be thanking you. Didn’t think you’d ever message me.”

You can feel the body heat radiating off him, the airy words as he mouths the contents. His eyebrows furrow to follow his focus, while you lose yours.

“I-I should probably get going-” Without delay, Toji blocks your side with an iron grip on the island, trapping you in the confines of his broad wingspan.

“Leaving so soon? You got plans tonight?” Saying and doing are completely different stories, and from the way your feet haven’t moved, you aren’t in a rush to go anywhere.

“Not really, but I worked today and I’m kinda tired-”

“Then what better way to unwind than with a bottle? I can’t drink this by myself, might as well keep me company” he suggests, persuasion to a greater extent when your lower back hits the bar. A drink or two couldn’t hurt, right?

“I guess I can stay for a few minutes.” Toji flashes a victorious toothy grin and retrieves cups from the sink cupboard. He gives you a rounded glass, and his muscles flex below candlelight as he maneuvers the cork at an angle.

“Let’s crack this open” he says, popping the cap off and pouring a substantial amount of golden fizz into both cups.

Toji raises his glass, “A toast.”

You tilt your head but raise yours as well. “To what?”

“Us.”

Us is a funny thing—with enough effort, it becomes you and I just as quickly as it formed. You don’t know if you’re willing to accept the responsibility of eternity. The devastation of commitment could damage you forever. There’s no us, but there’s you and him. So, you clink your glass, “To us,” and his eyes never leave yours as he takes a swig. It lasts a lifetime among longing breaths and unsaid words.

He brings the champagne to the living room, “I’ll turn on a movie. You know that cheesy romcom shit you used to watch? They made a sequel.” You fall flat on containing your excitement. He grabs the remote and lays back with his thighs spread apart.

Toji pats the couch, “Come sit. Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” You hardly believe that, but you remove your heels and relax upon overstuffed cushions. You opt to sit farther on the couch, and there’s an annoyed twitch on his lip at your display of boundaries. Nevertheless, he starts the movie.

Toji’s not particularly sneaky. He announces multiple bathroom breaks, returning to a spot on the couch that’s inconspicuous, but inching closer to you. The intent becomes clear when the ghost of his shoulder knocks against you, spreading his thighs wider to brush against the softness huddled into your snug figure. You’re half paying attention to the cliché performance, and half observing Toji. It’s hard not to smile when he behaves like a disobedient dog obligated to sit.

It’s cute that he arced himself to be eye-level with you. His tank rode up to expose his lower abdomen, and he adjusts himself in his sweats, jaw occasionally clenching. It could be the drink talking, perhaps you’ve had too many.

The movie ends, and you exhale a sigh of relief. “I forgot how corny this shit is.”

Toji shrugs, “I didn’t think it was too bad.”

“No way, you actually liked it?” you gasp. He huffs out his nose, smiling, “People change.”

“I’m shocked” you quip. Dusk creeps into a descending sunset, and you steal a glance at your phone screen. Bright as day, a notification from Shoko emerges. “NO TOJI >:("

You’re stumped thinking of a reply, one that doesn’t compromise your less-than-ideal situation, when Toji puts his hand over the screen. “Hope I’m not gettin’ ya in trouble.”

“Like you care.” He chuckles and slides it to the far side of the couch. “You’re right. Let’s watch another.”

This next movie's decent; a flat racing plot with excessive sequels. He unleashes an exaggerated yawn, extending his triceps to land behind your head. You quirk a brow at him, and he plays innocent. “You look cold” he says. You don’t care as much as you pretend. His pads trace the shell of your burning ear down to the lobe, to fine hair at the end of your neck. His rough hand massages the back of your head, and you lull to his chest. Be it the champagne or his actions, it’s too hot for comfort. Clamping your thighs shut spurs the intensity. His other hand languidly tests the limits of your skin, gossamer touches from your knee to your thigh. It's asking, and when you don’t object, he invites the entire palm to your knee, rubbing delicately. He brings it to your upper thigh, and retreats to the outside, getting dangerously close to your rear. The worst part is it’s not that bad. It’s intimate. Warm.

Loving.

It takes you a minute to comprehend you’re tearing up, but Toji recognizes that hushed sniffle. Airy and choked, quiet as to not be a burden. He circles a hand around your waist and pulls you impossibly close. He tilts your chin to his gaze, soft and deceptively gentle when he asks.

“What’s wrong pretty, hm?” You say nothing through the constrains in your throat, streaking the tears that fall faster than you can wipe them. This man alone can reduce you to mush with a wave of his hand. He bares your rawest state and sculpts you back together with such purity, such devotion, that you’d plead for him to sink his clay sodden fingers into your nothing, and make you everything.

“Tell me, and I’ll fix it.”

You say just above a whisper, “You’re selfish, you know that?”

“Mhm, I know” he nods, grazing his thumb across your lip.

“This isn’t healthy for us; we can’t heal like this.” He angles your head with his half lidded gaze, polishing your damp undereyes.

“I don’t need healing. I need you.”

You find passage in his hair, and surrender to temptation.

You test with a smooch. Then another. Then a series of tender, sugary kisses are pushed upon his pliant lips, and he responds in kind. You curl your fingers through his tresses as you explore the contours of his lips for what feels like the first time. Toji isn’t known for patience, but the sensation of his mildly dry lips getting smoother from your supple kisses gives him the will to savor this moment. You push and pull from each other, indulging in the messy smacks and caresses. You stop amid shared breaths to skim and nudge his yearning lips, diving into more hungry kisses. Toji abruptly lifts you over him, and you deepen its bruising passion.

You lick his bottom lip, and he groans, parting his mouth to allow your entry. You traverse the pink mass, interlacing in a wet feverish exchange. Your mind is numb, and the heartbeat in your core strikes stronger when your tongues intertwine. Toji hikes your dress up and slinks his massive hands over the plush fat of your rear. He earns a muffled moan from you as he kneads and gropes, and you feel his smirk against your lips. He grips your ass and starts to grind your hips on the bulge in his pants, a silent beg for any amount of friction. You wind with his movements, consuming him, and you hear a whimper get lost in the back of his throat.

You drag your teeth along his neck. You lick and suck in a few spots and decide to draw harshly on a responsive patch of skin while circling the fat of your pussy over his sensitive cock, taut in his boxers. His breath hitches, and he slaps your ass. “Fuck, baby please.” It’s rare to witness him begging like this, and you’re drinking it in. You lick up his Adam’s apple and pepper his jaw with kisses. “You like it?”

“Need more.” You bite his bottom lip for what seems like an exchange, but break away once he leans in. “Mm, be patient Toji.”

Your hands traverse the rugged muscle under his tank top. He aids in taking it off, and you rake over his breathless torso. You kiss along his pecs and lick the groove of his abs, delighting in the parts you missed during your separation. Toji has a tinge of red soaking his chest and ears, shifting uncomfortably from his throbbing cock when you bat your eyes as you slope to the floor. You slip a finger under his waistband, playfully running over its span, and snapping it from a peak. He hisses. You palm his erection, and he grinds into it.

“Wait” he husks. He reaches for a pillow and shuffles it under your knees. “Oh, thank you” you say, but it doesn’t look like he hears you in the chaos of tugging his sweatpants down to expose his boxers. The anticipation’s killing you, so you free his dick from its confinement.

You can’t forget the mouthwatering size. His girth meets his length with equal satisfaction. The base is tan, fading to a rosy tip and a faint curve. You committed his veins to memory, small ones embossing the sides and a prominent one meandering to his tip.

You maintain eye contact with him, hand steady on the base as you deliver taunting little licks to his frenulum. You precisely ring around his urethra and trace the veins, pulsating from the flick of your wrist. Toji hisses shaky curses and bucks, beefy thighs stiffening when you roll a flat strip to his leaking head and pump the base of his cock. He didn’t want to push you, but his whole body twitched in desire. “Your mouth” he groans. You react a coy ‘huh?’, tapping the head on your tongue and slathering it in saliva with cutesy doe eyes. He’s homed in on the strings of saliva connecting him to your tongue.

An undertone of desperation in his gravelly voice, “Whole thing. In your mouth,” he expends another shaky breath, “please.”

He bites his lip and stifles a moan, watching you engulf the cockhead in your mouth. You hollow out your cheeks while the underside of your tongue holds firm, and cautiously accommodate his size. It’s too big for comfort and it stretches the capacity of your plump spit-covered lips, but you work through the daunting pressure poking your reflex. You gradually relax, periodically gagging from an unprepared increase, and he twitches at your tightening throat. Your nose finally touches the hilt, flooded in his musk, and you start to suck. You bob leisurely, adjusting to the sense, and he subtly squirms in your touch.

Toji crinkles his brows when you release a pleasant pop on his tip, purely to observe his eyes rolling back when you wreck him in a noisy suction. Noise was no longer a factor—sounds of spit and dry retching overpowered the volume of the movie regardless. He holds your hair away from you to get a better view of your face, smothered with tears and mascara, drool ceaseless down your chin. “F-fuck, you’re so good, so, so good to me” he groans.

Your tongue swirls around him as you’re bobbing, and you accompany it with a tender massage to his balls. You cup and fondle them, using the lubrication from your spit to glide your fingers across. He sighs and grabs a handful of your hair. “Need to come. Keep that pretty throat open for me, yeah?”

He rapidly shoves you down to the hilt, and you wince before he continues at a relentless pace. You anchor his thigh for stability, and he throws his head back, fucking your throat raw. There's a sheen of sweat where his bangs stick to his forehead, and he emits an endless measure of moans the closer he gets. Rambling about nonsense, yes’s and curses as he stiffens. He treats your mouth like a flesh light, evident by the throat bulge disappearing and reappearing. You happily accept the searing jaw, swaying your ass from thrumming in your saturated panties damp to your inner thighs.

You can tell he’s about to climax because he goes completely quiet minus the panting, open mouthed with his head back. You resume massaging his balls, and he shoves you to the base, “C-coming” he moans. You grab onto him, and a squeak dies in your throat when he paints it white. He shakes, groans for each spurt coating your mouth, pumping the last of his semen as you swallow.

Toji shudders when he pulls out, and his panting returns to a soft huff. You expected him to be spent, or at least sit in the aftershocks for a while until he calmed down. But he tightens the grip on your hair and forces you to look up. “Show me” he husks. You stick your tongue out, proof you swallowed every bit. “Now c’mere”, he guides you into a filthy French kiss, devouring you with much more dominance than before. It’s as though your nearness restored him. You can hardly stand your feeble knees and sopping core, but Toji takes care of it for you. With unnatural vigor, he lifts you over his shoulder, and marches up the stairs. “Ah, Toji, maybe you should take a sec-”

He swats your butt harsh, and you yelp from the sting. “Don’t fuckin’ tell me what to do. You’ve been so mouthy, a damn tease, too. You’re gonna regret it.”

You’re ferried into the rather plain bedroom lined with dim hues, and a wide ceiling length mirror opposite the bed. He tosses you on the dark gray bedding and climbs over you. Your heart’s racing with thrill. Toji yanks the dress over your head, uncovering the sheer white lacey bra, similar to your underwear.

He stares like you’re a piece of meat, feasting on your flawlessness not yet smothered in hickeys and bruises, your nipples at attention under the fabric. “It’s all for me, huh?” he whispers, lust rolling off his tongue. You nod, because it’s always been for him, whether he was here or not. He buries himself in your cleavage and hums in satisfaction. His touch sends goosebumps to your skin and keeps your back arched when he drags a pad along your spine. Then your bra unclasps, and he removes it carefully, as if he didn’t want to spoil the surprise by unwrapping his gift too early. He gawks at them for an embarrassingly long pause, enough to make your cheeks hot, and you chide, “Stop staring.”

“Shut up, you’re gorgeous.” Toji submerges the bud, whirling around it while he roughly squeezes both breasts. He molds the dough of your breasts with strong palms, nips and tugs your nipple before soothing it with fierce tongue kisses. Consistent teeth grazing hikes your sensitivity before he trades it for sucking. When he switches to the other, he pinches the maltreated peak, eliciting a whimper. You merely bind your thighs and embrace the disarray being caused on your spit-soaked nipples. The cold air your abused tits receive as he withdrawals from suckling is nullified by the hickeys he leaves. You quiver from constellations of splotchy purplish red, delicious pain tingling throughout your torso. “Not so much, I have to go back to work soon” you moan, not very convincing.

“Even better; everyone’ll know who fucks you” Toji winks, and your heart skips. He dumps a nice vibrant bruise on your sternum, and advances to the dainty hem. He parts your thighs with ease, throwing them on his shoulder. Then he develops a haughty smirk.

You’re monitoring his face, until he presses a pad against your aching clit, and the subsequent juices overflowing from a huge wet patch. He plays with the spiderweb of slick between his digits, “Mm. Y’still my girl.” You blush as he sucks on them and licks his lips afterwards. Hooking under the panties, he pulls them taut, projecting the swell of your pudgy vulva in tightening lace. It sinks past your outer lips and cages your clit—you want to writhe from friction, but it makes it worse. He ghosts against you and kisses the print, and you want to scream. “Tell me what you want, or I won’t do it.”

“P-please...” you whine. You lock eyes, and you can hardly manage a word in the foreground of his intensity. How can he expect you to form coherent sentences when he sees through you like this? He gives a disappointed tut and puppeteers the strings, shifting them back and forth upon your neglected vulva. You cry out, and he cinches it together, isolating the part that pulses incessantly. He has an evil grin on his face, the bastard. “Details, baby.”

“Toji...please t-touch me alre-eady so I can come, m’sorry I won’t tease you again!” you promise, willing to do whatever it takes to reduce your sentence.

“And what else?”

“Your mouth on m-my pussy...please lick it.” You’re humiliated at the request that tumbles from your bottommost desires, but he’s satisfied. He’s never been one to shy away from dirty talk.

“Good girl.” Toji slithers your panties off, and you sigh from a loss of pressure just as his bangs tickle your pubic area. He interlocks your hands, a breath from eating you.

“You don’t look at me, I’ll stop. Think you can do that f’me?”

“Mhm!”

He hums in agreement and submerses into you. Toji’s a messy eater, especially when he’s desperate. He ovals the outer lips and precisely stirs your clit, and your stomach turns in knots from simple motions. He frames it and carefully winds around his capable tongue, really focusing on the spots that make your back curve; really focusing on your entry, as he teasingly digs in.

Toji cajoles a groan from his nose caressing your bud, then laps a level tongue over your wetness, truly tasting you. It isn’t long before his teasing farce began to crumble, and he obliged his ravenous appetite. He eats you starving, insatiable as he absorbs your twitching cunt and perfumed essence spilling down his chin. You clasp your hands, desire building in a trembling quake, but he doesn’t falter. He slurps your inner lips, and finally delivers proper care to your neglected clit. He hums a low vibration when he sucks, his pursed lips moving from a steady tongue to full on slobbering like some savage animal.

You appreciate the support his steady hands give your shaky ones. “Toji, hahhh coming” you whine, a familiar sensation flipping in your core. He lets his words fan onto you, “You know better” he husks. Your hips are bucking frantically, and so you whine, “Please, can I come sir, please please please please!”

“Hmm, I don’t know, you were ready to disobey me just now.” He says that, however the look in his eye is unrelated; it craves you, the want to make you squeal repeatedly until you’re on the verge of collapse. “’M can’t take it anymore, please let me come!” You urge your hips to his mouth, and meld into his warmth.

“Come on my face, pretty girl” he groans, just as hankering as you. He laps at your clit, and you sooner fall apart underneath him. Your whimpered plea forms an innocent sob as you spasm from overstimulation. Toji just doesn’t stop. His head careens against you, tasting everything your body has to offer. You’re suddenly regretting how badly you wanted to come.

“Toji- I-it’s too much” you protest, but it receives no response. Your release dribbles down his chin and he persists, ultimately unbinding when you lose a hold on his hands from the tremors. He diverges your lips and admires the way your mess clenches around air.

“Heh, you’re shaking. Cute.” He rubs the back of your legs, reassuring you in spite of his previous cruelty. You make a sad attempt at wiggling away, but he grabs you firm.

No running. Be good and hold your legs back.” He folds your legs to your shoulders, and you mewl, reluctantly wrapping your hands around them. ‘No’ isn’t a valid response at present.

Toji’s thumbs spread your wrinkling opening, and you feel a draft on its expanse before he spits directly into your hole. You jerk, startled, and he shushes you. He slathers his thick digits in your glistening strip, and smoothly sinks one inside. “Pussy so slippery for me. Miss this...miss you” he sighs, starting to pump. He prepares you for the main course, scrapes your walls and curls his finger to hit a spot you can’t reach. The nasty squelching sounds you echo from a mere finger casts heat on your cheeks, and he seems to enjoy your responsiveness as he adds another finger to the commotion. He twines a ‘come hither’ motion that makes your back arch from every delightful swipe against your velvety walls. Then his pink muscle undulates along your swollen bud, and you dissolve to a puddle. Your hips stutter, and surge after surge of torturous pleasure strikes you with no end in sight.

“Toji, f-fuck wait- hng s’feels too good” you whimper, and he gruffs a chuckle. He expands his fingers with precision, then chooses to slide a thumb in your butthole. The combination of both hands intruding your being, coiling into your soul jams your head with intoxicating dizziness and fictitious futures. Static pools in your stomach and circulates like the goading flickers of a raging inferno. He contacts your g-spot, and you moan, “Ah- can I, I’m close”

“I know, I know. Let go for me,” he says, or at least that’s what it sounds like when he’s face-deep. Your eyes are screwed shut, white noise before you crash and shatter around his fingers. Fortunately, you’re deaf to your own lewd wailing, clutching for dear life through contractions. It gushes past his wrist. Tears reside in your lashes, croaked sob from the slap he gives your puffy pussy. “That’s it, baby, there we go.”

Toji shows mercy and slips out. You’re still registering sultry bliss, untangling your limbs to lay slack. Empathy isn’t forever, though, because he forces your butt rearwards as he hops off the bed. Precum seeps from his tip, sheeting his shaft and heavy brimming sack. He propels your thighs to your chest, and your expression switches to fear for a second at the angry red tip sitting at your entrance. It's as if it grew since the blowjob, and you’re sure you’ll die if he stuffs that monster inside you.

He slides up and down the entrance, seizing the sore bud, “Mmm, pretty thing making a mess all over my cock.”

“Just go slow, okay?” you meek.

“Of course, ‘m not tryna kill you.” Toji doesn’t disrupt the yearning gaze between you, giving your entry several threatening caresses. He groans from the sensation of your puffy lips snuggling his length. Then he plunges the bulbous tip, encased in your passion. He’s unhurried for the most part, besides the instants he stops himself from ramming into you, cock begging to feel the fervor. He’s plugging you to capacity, and you’re only halfway in. Soreness whirrs in your walls being outstretched beyond belief, yet you’re milking what remains, dragging the rest of him in. His breath hitches, a spiderweb of veins pulses in your tight embrace and he rocks his hips further. “Look at the way you’re gripping me. Fuck” he shudders. His tip presses on your cervix, and you feel the weight of his balls on your rear.

Toji drives into you nice and slow. In this position you feel each vast stroke massaging your tumid core, squelching amidst your languid bodies. There’s almost a gloss film on his eyes as he indulges in the sweet addiction swamping his thoughts with unfiltered lust. “When you left it hurt real bad, y’know? I even cried.” You’re a bit stunned at his spur of honesty, but it’s short-lived as his thrusts get wilder and brutal. Your mouth hangs open, drool shameless out your mouth as he kisses your cervix without trying. You throb frenetically, chest heaving from the way his sack smacks against your ass and the creamy translucent ring forming at the base of his cock. His swinging strokes graze your g-spot and you sob, but he doesn’t check for your mitigation, encompassing your numb clit in the heat of his mean smacks.

“Heh, dunno if you remember, but you left a pair of panties when you moved”, Toji regresses to the tip and bottoms out repeatedly, “I’ve jerked off in them so many times, imagining you backing up this juicy pussy on my dick.” You’re hysterical, flushed from head to toe and struggling to take breaths. Toji has you locked slamming into your cervix. It coaxes a mix of pleasure and pain burning through you, and your toes curl. “You love me?” he asks. It’s unfair to ask you now, scatter-brained and drooling like a stupefied slut. But you nod, and he plasters a cocky grin. “Good. ‘S long as I have that, I’m okay.”

The unexpected flood of your orgasm quakes you, unable to warn Toji, or even ask for permission. How disappointed he’d be in you, as your juices sluice and soak, fluttering where you come undone. It’s a trail of fire, and it hurts to come. His hips sputter and he mutters a string of curses, flicking your nub faster to heighten the intensity of the earlier mess. You paw at his chest, back arched and fresh tears clustering in the haze. “Please, please!” you babble to an unresponsive Toji, stuck in a feral trance.

Toji pulls out, palpitating at the precipice of his own climax. You take this opportunity to flip on your stomach and creep to a farther part of the bed. He’s in no rush. You can’t go far like that, a net of arousal at the apex of your thighs. He climbs onto the bed and grapples your hips, thighs capturing yours. He curves your back and slips into your gummy walls anew. You grip him like a vice notwithstanding the complaints. You hate to say it, but Toji’s length bullying its way to your cervix is a poison you’d drink habitually. He snares your hair and holds the underside of your chin. “Hah- c’mon baby, you can take a little more”, he groans at a savage pace, “be a good girl.” Your ass ripples against the brawny man, hoarse voice in your ear, scrotum pummeling the overworked bundle of nerves. Your knuckles turn white on the sheets. All you should do is let him use you, that’s all you need to do, right?

Toji pans your head to the mirror, “Look how good you’re taking me, angel. You’re doing well.” His honeyed praises make you throb, attended by the bestial snap of his hips. “See that?”, he references your release slugging both legs, air heavy with sweat, “you’re such a f-fucking slut, what man could satisfy you besides me?” You sniffle and muster a pathetic babble, and he laughs. “You’re my perfect slut, though, fuck- ‘nd I’m not gonna make the same mistakes again.” There’s a tinge of regret swimming in the sea that is Toji’s confidence, and you feel it. It’s a subtle confession; please don’t go.

Then he stops. Toji lets go, and you’re impulsively manhandled in front of him while he’s behind you. He lays back, and in doing so, ferries your knees to the sides of your face and hooks his hands to the rear of your head. You’re unveiled in the reflection of the mirror, a panel that bounces back the thin sheen of sweat on your bodies, your disheveled hair and makeup, wrinkled sheets, and the sticky lacings attaching you to Toji. You want to shy from the humiliating sight. “Don’t hide your face” he coos. You glimpse a portion of his face in the mirror, a glint in his eye, “I like this view more.”

He bends his knees and pounds your chubby cunt with reckless abandon. He’s fucking your cervix, heedless grunts and panting groans as you swallow him up. Toji sputters, throbbing along your abused body and reverberating vicious staggering plap’s that could be heard on the lowest floor. You can’t breathe, let alone think, and the asphyxiation goes straight to your pussy. “O-oh fuck, heh, feel s’good. Gonna fill you up, yeah? Shit- have a mini me crawling around. Y-you'd like that, wouldn’t you, doll? Wanna carry my baby?” The headboard thuds against the wall, and in your fog, you call out for him, chanting his name like a mantra. The emotion is overwhelming, you claw at his bicep as shockwaves burst and fizzle out on your skin. “You’re dripping down my balls, sweetie, you close again?” Tougher, nastier strikes allure your orgasm, and you bleat a scream as a stream of liquid surges from you that drenches the sheets and Toji’s shaft. It’s a blinding white light, and you go limp through the violent spasms.

“Ohhh shit, that’s it baby, take everything I give you” he rasps. Toji shoulders your dead weight with ease, going silent, then plummeting you to the hilt. His balls tighten, and he manages some slushy pumps before he comes. He spurts thick, hot globs that paint and crowd your walls with greed. You milk him dry as he bucks. It overflows to trickling down his length, and his muscles quiver as he comes down from his high. His staggering pants reduce to hitching, and he relaxes your exhausted limbs.

Toji drives out and turns you around. You’re edging unconsciousness, sporadic jolts and innocent sobs carrying in your scratched throat. “I know. Breathe, baby.” He brings you flush with his chest, and you absorb his gentle puffs, the methodical beat of his heart. “You okay?” You’re unresponsive, gathering yourself in an incomplete collage of thoughts. You want to talk but it dissipates on your tongue. He rubs your back and kisses your forehead.

Then it’s muted; solely the dwindling rate at which your heart races, and the tender smooches Toji dots on your face as you cuddle. When you open your eyes, the sheets are changed, and you’re cleaned. Clearly some time has passed. You sit, and Toji comes out the bathroom, running water in the background. “How ya feelin’?”

You wince at the blunt thrum in your vulva, “Okay. How long was I out?”

“Like half an hour. Up for a bath?” You don’t have the energy to move your body. Toji scoops you bridal style and leads you to the bathroom. You found it amusing how considerate he was after wrecking your brain.

Toji spoons a generous quantity of Epson salt into the corner jet tub. He helps you in and joins once you’re stable. It’s a lavish proportion, but you decide to be next to him. Your head situates on your forearms over the tub rim while Toji sloshes water onto your back. The steam and serene jets below ship you to a luxury vacation on a tropical island, its quality comparable to spas with extensive dollar signs. You study each other.

“I’ll let you get whatever you need from your place.” You knit your brows, “For what?”

“You live with me.” You simper at his audacity.

“So, you’re the decision maker now?”

“For this, yes. Can’t risk you runnin’ off again.”

“It’s your fault I left.” He pauses, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “I know. I’m sorry.”

A piece of you becomes whole at his acknowledgement. There are no petty jabs to be had where lingering truths wade in the mist. “Never thought I’d hear an apology from you.”

“It’s overdue. I was a dick, and I should’ve never treated you like that. Was tryna sort out my shit, but I didn’t have to take it out on ya.”

The corner of your mouth quirks up. “Sorry...but not sorry enough to let me go?”

“No. You need nobody but me.”

You chortle, and he cracks a smirk. “Arrogant asshole.”

“I love you, too.”

#jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu toji #toji fushiguro #toji smut #toji x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #toji fushigro x reader #jjk

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kurogxrix · 9 months

Text

Drunkenly In Love

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!reader

IN WHICH you and Bucky ‘accidentally’ get married after a drunken game of truth or dare with the avengers.

WC: 5.4k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, nausea, mentions of puke, drunken decisions, suggestive, angst?.

A/N: In this Bucky and Steve are able to get at least a bit drunk with Asgardian liquor.

Your throat burnt as the alcohol downed its way into your system, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to put the bottle down. None of you could in fact, and it started to look less like the avengers and more like a squad of alcoholics. Nevertheless, you all deserved a night of getting completely shitfaced after saving the world once again, and so this was what you all were doing.

It was relaxing to see the people that usually stayed sober to care for you all, finally give in to the sheer pleasure of the buzz. What was even funnier, was seeing your teammates with ‘high tolerances’ like Bucky and Steve succumb to the venomous call of Thor’s Adgardian liquor. It wasn’t enought you get them as fucked up as the rest of you, considering that the serum made them filter alcohol way faster than it should. However the mere strength of it gave them a good couple of minutes of intoxication, and with teammates like you and Tony around, a couple of minutes were definitely enough to stir some trouble.

Trouble, the nickname that had been given to you by the team. The notorious partner in crime of none other than Iron Man and The Falcon themselves. You loved stirring trouble and pulling harmless pranks on your teammates, whether it’d be adding food colouring to Steve’s shampoo, which definitely left him a little confused and a little pink for the rest of the week. Or like that one time you and Tony had placed glitter bombs around the tower. Except that one wasn’t as funny as you had originally planned, because having the former Black Widow chasing after you was not the definition of fun.

Past your playful exterior, you were always a teammate that your friends relied on. The rest of the avengers loved you like you were their own sibling, and you’d found sisterhood in the presence of Wanda and Nat. They saw past your flaws and the lack of control that you had with your own powers when you first joined the team, and instead helped you with and through those obstacles like a real family should.

It took you a while to break through Bucky’s tough exterior, but you didn’t expect any less from the Ex Hydra soldier that was constantly haunted by the memories of what he’d done. Even if none of it was his fault, as you’d remind him constantly, you knew that it was always hard for him to accept when every time he’d close his eyes he was flashed with the images of his hands covered in blood, nobody else’s but his.

Your outgoing personality also made it very hard to connect with him, because he felt that someone with so much potential of making other friends than ones as messed up in the head as him should go on and do so, but you had never given up. And you were glad that you hadn’t, because over the years, you’d grown fond of seeing that warm smile lift upon his lips at the very rare occasions.

Everything had started out as a shitty game of truth or dare, truly. After Bruce had chosen truth once too many times and Thor kept on complaining that his dares were too ‘serene’, your true mastermind had truly come to show.

“Come closer dude, we literally can’t see you,” you called out to Thor, throwing an arm over his shoulders to bring him closer to you as you both sat on the luxurious yet oddly long sofa in the Stark Tower. Your front camera was on, an out-of-frame picture of yours and Thor’s forehead being snapped as your hand trembled too much, and the beefy blond was far too impatient for you to retake.

You’d posted a story on the Avengers instagram account with the encouragement of your peers, and of course the worrying of a typsy Steve. It was probably the worst idea that you could have come up with, because after solely a couple minutes of posting a ‘send us dares’ story, your phones began to blow with notifications.

It took you all a solid minute to reassemble everyone together to start reading the messages, and you ignored the far too crude ones as you moved to the funny ones. Cue the loud ringing of Sam and Thor’s laughter combined and minutes later, you’d all decided on a couple of ones for the night.

I’d started off with things such as vision, who he was solely participating in because everyone was borderline pressuring him

It’d started off with things such as a very sober vision, who was solely participating because everyone was borderline pressuring him due to his lack of ability when it came to being influenced by alcohol, give the AI a break. He had been dared to recreate the spaghetti scene from ‘Lady and The Tramp’ with Clint. Needless to say that they both broke apart the spaghetti centimetres apart, unable to stop the roaring of laughter from raising up their throats.

Next thing you know is that Wanda was wrapped in toilet paper like a damned mummy, and Tony revealed his inner Magic Mike. But the man used to be a legitimate whore, so it was nothing surprising really. You all had realised somewhere along the night that you’d been acting a little too much like children considering your ages, and instead of switching back to your professional selves, you decided to empty another bottle or two for the night.

What you hadn’t expected for the night however, was the bold and surprising request of ‘Marry the person to your left’ that was now sitting in your inbox. It sounded so stupidly thought of that you could practically tell that it was coming from a kid, but something inside of you couldn’t care less about the future repercussions of going further on with the dare.

In fact, you felt your drunken heart accelerating its pace when you were met with the sight of the one and only Bucky Barnes sitting to your left. It did not help that you had been attracted to the man for what seemed like 2 years now, yet you hardly acted on those feelings. It was easier to pretend like your admiration towards the super soldier was nonexistent rather than face his rejection. The rejection that you thought he’d give you if you ever confessed, but if only you knew.

If only you knew how many nights he’d been spending up rethinking the amount of interactions he could’ve sparked with you if he hadn’t been so hesitant. If only you knew how much Bucky yearned to confront his own self about his self deprecating issues, but deep down he knew that he was right. He knew that a person as charismatic and chaotic as you did not deserve to be chained to a person as grumpy and boring as him.

You considered shying away when the whole team turned to you asking what your dare was, but it’d be a direct giveaway of your feelings towards the brunette once they’d hear what your dare was. Instead you’d feigned the shock that you had initially felt before the warmness of your imagination seeped in, the thoughts of you being married to Bucky making your brain short circuit.

“Woahhh and would you look at that,” the lack of surprise in your voice was masked by the slur of your words because of how much you’d drank, and you were glad that everybody else had ingurgitated just as much as you because their faces showed no sign of suspicion as they waited for you to turn your phone around. The first person that you had shown it to was whoever was to your right, and that just happened to be Sam and Scott.

The duo squealed like little girls at the sight of the dare, but the Falcon’s eyes widened comically as he eyed who exactly was at your left. He’d snatched your phone instantly to show the others, and no matter how much you protested for him to hand it back to you, Sam was like an annoying big brother to you. There was no way you’d be getting it back unless you forcedly found a way to.

The three other girls in the tower had their hands over their mouths as they read the exact words that this random person had sent you, and Wanda looked more excited than you were. You’d beg her to exchange dares with her if it wasn’t for the bulky super soldier’s family name being on the line, and you had no issue with becoming Mrs.Barnes.

Steve and Bucky on their sides sat there confused as everyone kept on basking Bucky some shocked and amazed looks, which was starting to irritate him greatly because everybody was taking so much time with the phone and nobody was even voicing out what the damned dare was. His vexation had lasted for minutes until the phone had been personally placed in his hands by no other than Sam himself.

Bucky placed the phone between himself and Steve as their quick eyes skimmed over the text. His only physical reaction to the words was the raise of his eyebrows, but fuck was his heart stammering against his rib cage at a faster pace than the speed at which Steve ran his morning rounds. His reaction had you internally pausing all other thoughts as you imagined that he was slightly disgusted at the idea.

You knew that he had a dream of domesticity back in the 40’s, but you knew that no man would like to be forced into a marriage with a woman that they didn’t want to marry. And although Bucky admired you in much more than a platonic way, that you didn’t know of yet, he hadn’t necessarily imagined himself being married to you. He was still figuring out how to ask you out without pussing out at the last minute, which had happened to him about 5 times now. Needless to say that Sam had made fun of him all five times.

He was internally turmoiled, and if not for the alcohol running thick in his system, he’d say no. He’d refuse and say that you deserved better than him and some shitty ceremony based on some even shittier dare. But he couldn’t physically say it now, not when his better judgement was affected and the alcohol let the side that was fond of you control him.

You were about to open your mouth to tell him that it was okay, that he could decline or worse, you could find another partner. Even if you didn’t want to marry anyone else than him, even less for a game. Yet he cut you off with a deep laugh that startled everyone in the room, it was not sardonic but rather held an amusing tone to it.

Bucky shook his head as he stood up to look at you, grasping your hands in his bigger ones like some romance movie sap. The Cheshire grin on his face made you want to melt into putty in his embrace, and his stupidly plain words had you doubling back.

“So…what time’s the wedding?”

“Hurry up, you’re gonna be late to your own wedding!” the teasing sound of Wanda’s voice called out to you, accent thick in her tone. The guys had already rushed your soon-to-be groom into Tony’s room to get him ready, much to the billionaire’s dismay. You couldn’t help but laugh your entire way towards the room, you face up towards the ceiling as you giggled like a mad woman.

Wanda dragged you by the arm and into Nat’s room, who was nose deep inside her wardrobe in search of an appropriate dress for your ‘wedding’. You’d be searching through Pepper's closet given that she had a wider selection, but you couldn’t go there given that the boys were dressing Bucky up in Tony and Pepper’s shared room.

“What about this one? Or- No, this one!” you snapped your head towards the sound of Wanda’s voice, only to catch her with two dresses in hands. Except these two dresses had little to nothing to do with a wedding, yet alone being the bride to that wedding, but this was Nat’s wardrobe after all. The black Maxi dress in her hands was the definition of the former Black Widow’s wardrobe, tight, dark and sexy if anything.

You didn’t have much say in the decision because soon enough the two girls were on you, shoving your limbs and whatnot through the holes of the dress to drape it over you. You couldn’t lie when you said that it did fit you well, the stretchy fabric of the dress squeezing and moulding into your body in every way that it should. The dress finished by your ankles, accompanied by spaghetti straps and a pair of pretty heels that had been shoved in your hands for you to slip on.

Given that the dress did in fact go braless, you did have a little worry about how the chilly air outside would mix with that, but you were far too gone to even care. With some final touches and a brush of makeup, you were finally ready to meet your to-be husband.

As a kid you’d always imagine your wedding scene to be much more emotional than this. You’d imagine yourself in some stupid movie scene where you’d cry at the first sight of your husband, but now the only tears you were holding back were the ones you were getting from laughing so much. Pepper had to slap you on the back to straighten up after you’d crumpled down from laughter, and you had yet to even meet up with Bucky.

You could hear the loud and deep voices of the other men past the long hallway that you were currently walking in, and you mentally cursed Tony for being so rich and having such a big Tower because hell were your feet already hurting in those heels.

“Here comes the bride!” The sudden entrance of Clint’s excited voice made your eyes snap upwards, and you instantly realised that you had finally left the never ending hallway. All eyes were on you, but instead of judging your odd wedding outfit, you were relieved to hear their cheers. You couldn’t even tell why you’d gotten anxious about your team being unaccepting of your fit when that odd dare was the genesis of this whole moment.

Bucky stood out in his black suit amongst the other ‘underdressed’ avengers, and when your eyes met with the familiar blue ones amongst all the others, suddenly all you could focus on was him. Not on your friends around you half heartedly arguing about whether you guys looked like the Addams couple or Lydia Deetz and Beetlejuice because of your attire. In the most adoring way possible, of course.

Your gaze never left his accept when his eyes cast down to scan your outfit, and you could’ve sworn that there was even more adoration swirling in his baby blue iris when they went back up to meet with yours again. This was at last a little bit how you had expected your wedding to go as when you were a kid, all until…

The loud laughter erupting out of your throats rebounded against the tower’s walls, making you both sound way louder than you actually were. The rest of your friends didn’t even bother with the both of you, just talking over your laughter as you doubled over at how stupid this whole situation was. Yet again you couldn’t take anything seriously when you were sober, now imagine yourself when a drop of alcohol entered your system.

The sound of Bucky’s laughter was something that you didn’t know you needed today, but fuck did it sound like heaven. You wanted him to keep on laughing like this forever, for that wide smile on his face to stay instead of that usual scowl he wore on his face. You wanted Bucky to continue being so happy and carefree like this, you wanted to keep on making Bucky so happy like this.

Nevertheless your little moment was shortly interrupted by Wanda yet again grasping onto your arm, this time with a little more pressure as Happy’s impatient honking could be heard all the way from up here in the Tower. As you left, Bucky couldn’t help but keep his eyes glued to your retreating form. Before Steve came to shake his shoulders playfully from the back, muttering something that you couldn’t hear or even care about from where you were, but it didn’t fail to make heat creep up Bucky’s neck.

The ride in Stark’s limousine was just as fun as the rest of the night itself, except that now they were popping a bottle of champagne to honorate your soon to be ‘wedding’. Honestly you had up to zero idea as to how all of your stomachs could support so much liquids in one night, but you were 100% sure that Happy had snuck in sparkling juice inside the limousine fridge because he was starting to get a little worried. The sight of Scott literally gagging while trying to keep everything down his throat nearly made you puke everything that you’d drank throughout the night, but you forced your glance away from the man to avoid any accidents.

The poor bruce looked drunkenly traumatised as Tony conducted a little karaoke at the back of his limousine, which was the least surprising for the billionaire. You got a good laugh once more out of the ride, which was heading towards somewhere for you both to sign the register and finally make you Mrs.Barnes. Oh and how many times had you dreamt of this moment before, yet it didn’t happen like this in your fantasy.

The car finally stopping signed a peace treaty for the poor nauseous scott, and he could finally breathe again without feeling like his stomach was flipping inside out. You all could barely even make it out of the car without stumbling your ways out. Fuck and how did you all even manage to get this fucked up? You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d gotten so drunk that you could barely even stand up straight, but it was most probably during your college years.

Being part of the troupe that saves the world from the devil's grip was not an easy job. There'd be days where you’d be gone for weeks on nothing else but a simple mission, and you couldn’t even guarantee that you’d even return as a whole from the other ones. So while you could, you’d enjoy your holidays and be free, fuck if it meant playing some stupidly childish game of drunken truth or dare.

All eyes were of you guys from the moment you’d stepped out of the limousine and into the courthouse. Of course Tony hadn’t reserved a normal courtroom in some random courthouse, no instead he’d reserved you the most pristine and elegant one you’d ever seen. The marble stairs and luxurious railings left you speechless, but yet you couldn’t expect little if it was coming from one and only Iron Man.

A civil ceremony wasn’t what the little you had envisioned for her big day, but her dreams were being forgotten today because you were still young and you could always have a traditional wedding ceremony afterwards if this one didn’t satisfy you anyways.

You received a bunch of odd looks from whoever was working at the courthouse as you made way into the room. Either from the fact that you were dressed the furthest away from what a bride usually looks like, or from the amount of noise that your team was making. The officiant clearly looked like he wanted to tell you to rethink this, perhaps when you were sober and stable enough to actually think. Though Tony had paid him a stack of cash high enough for him to keep quiet, but his eyes were speaking for himself.

“Look at my children, they’re growing up so fast!” Same wiped a fake tear on his face as he tried to conceal his laughter as sobs. Scott besides him was wiping tears too, though his didn’t quite seem fake…

Like any wedding ceremony, you’d all taken some corny pictures that you could laugh at while sitting by a campfire in a couple of years. You’d decided that the bride would take pictures with the groomsmen and the groom would take pictures with the bridesmaids, because this was no ordinary wedding, so you might as well make it laugh worthy. One of your matching pictures had you standing perched on both of Steve’s and Scott’s shoulders as they both held onto your ankles in case you happened to slip back. The rest of the boys you considered family posed in the most boyish yet stupidly cute pose as the flash blinded the whole of you.

In your husband’s photos, Bucky was being suspended up in the air as some red aura kind of magic enveloped him. Queue an annoyed looking Pepper and Natasha standing besides Wanda as she lifted the man up in the air, their arms crossed across their chests as they gave Bucky an unimpressed look. The annoyance was all pretend, considering that after the camera’s click went off, they all rekindled their cheerful selves.

“You guys need to end the night with a kiss, there’s no bride or groom going back home right now before you guys smooch!” Wanda slurred, her cheeks pink from the heat of the alcohol. Vision had to keep an arm around her waist at all times in case she fell over, and the AI sighed at everyone’s stupidity. At this point you were sure that everyone in the courtroom other than you guys was starting to get irritated with the noise so you decided to cut this short and just sign the damn papers already.

Except that now everyone was pressing on to what Wanda had said, and your nerves were running thick. You wanted to with no doubt, kiss the extremely handsome super soldier that you were somewhat about to marry, but you feared that you’d be going too far. Sure this whole thing was a whole joke, so what if he’d agree for the sake of the joke as well? You could always dream and delude yourself about the fact that he’d actually accepted the dare because he liked you just like you did him but you’d never know until you asked.

Instead, you stayed quiet and tried to ignore the high pitched yelling coming from your teammates as the officiant passed you the pen. Your hand shook as you stared at the paper before you, and for a second you had to remind yourself that none of this was real. And so finally, you bent over to sign the papers that laid on a strangely low table.

Natasha’s teasing wolf whistle made your nerves dissipate and a goofy smile crawl up your face as she called you out for your position, or rather the way that your dress was tightening further with the position. Your hands were swift as you worked on the signature, little to no care for the lines of text that you were supposed to consider before officially tying yourself to the man that would also sign the same paper.

You watched with a grin as Bucky approached the table to do the same, teasingly getting into the same position as you previously were to hear the loud screeching cheers of your teammates. You watched as he signed the paper off with the flick of his wrist, a hidden elegance in the way he moved being a surprise turn on for you.

Bucky had not even had time to barely stand back up straight again before you had both started getting bombarded with a ‘kiss to seal the deal’ request from your friends, and you did agree that it’d only make sense to kiss your other half on your wedding day. You didn’t want to make it seem like you were all too eager to smooch the former Winter Soldier, although on the inside you were shaking with anticipation.

His touch took you off guard as you felt time stop as his large palm slotted itself in the crevice of your back, the warmth of his hand seeping through the dress. You felt as he pulled you closer to him with that hand, but you couldn’t look elsewhere than his eyes. You got the moto to finally close your eyes instead of staring at him like some creep as you felt his other palm closing on your cheek. Your palms came to rest on his chest as he dipped you like in those cheesy rom coms from the 40’s, and you guessed that was his inspiration.

The kiss was much needed, you felt like it’d cut through some of the tension that you’d both built throughout the past months. Bucky’s nose flashed against yours as he kissed you with need, near desperation. His lips slotted over yours perfectly, the slight dip of his head making you go feral as he reached deeper like he was trying to devour you whole.

Asif you and your friends couldn’t get any louder, their yelling had yet ceased to stop. Truly a sight for the people who knew the Avengers as the universe’s saviour. The end of the night had left a usually happy and unusually smiling Bucky, and not to forget, the whole group of tipsy Avengers in the back.

The initial energy that you all had at the start of the day had eventually worn out by the time you were making your way back to the car. It didn’t mean that the ride back was silent though, you’d all participated in a round of karaoke before sitting down and finally for the first time this entire night, calmly talking like normal people.

Waking up with a pounding headache and no water in sight wasn’t necessarily the best way to wake up, but that’s how Bucky’s morning was going anyway. The plush mattress felt uncomfortable to him, and Bucky wondered what he was even doing on a bed considering he’d gotten used to sleeping on the floor ever since his Soldat days. His eyes held a grogginess that irritated him, in fact everything from the scratchy material of the cotton sheets to his headache was annoying him, and he could blame nothing else but the trace of alcohol that he knew he’d drunk yesterday night.

It was obvious that he was under the influence yesterday and had gotten back home just as faded, because he could feel the fabric of a suit on his body as his hands roamed freely. His pants were still fastened on with the tight belt, which he’d removed with a content sigh. Bucky’s fingers rubbed at his eyes until he got most of the sleepiness out of them, but his muscles suddenly froze as the sound of shuffling beside him.

His heart stopped for a second, before resuming its pounding just 3x the original speed. He couldn’t remember much of yesterday, and surely not that he’d brought someone back home with him. He was relieved at the memory of his suit still very much on him, the tight belt telling him that it hadn’t been removed ever since he’d put it on him. He’d love to beat himself at the thought of having to pick up his courage to turn around and meet whoever was in his bed, given that a super soldier like him had gone through scarier scenarios.

His breath caught stuck in his throat as he turned around to be met with the sight of…you? It felt like the planet earth had stopped orbiting for a second as he felt ten times more dizzy than he’d felt at his wake. His confusion ran thick as he watched you comfortably snoozing off in his bed. His bed? Bucky thought about it again, there was no way that he wasn’t currently in the Stark Tower, and he could tell that the room looked nothing like his despite the little lighting that he had to observe his surroundings.

He was in your room, on your bed. How he’d arrive here was a mystery, but that was something to decipher later on. Bucky’s eyes gazed over your sleeping form, from the way your cheeks were adorably squished against your pillow with your hands tucked under them. His eyes trailed down towards your outfit, and he wanted to yell at himself for the way that he ogled a little too long at the sight of the thin, tight fabric resting against your chest. The dress was all out of place because of how much you’d move in your sleep, it looked like it would completely expose your breast if you moved just a little more.

Bucky felt much guilt coursing through his veins as he continued to eye you like some crude teenage boy, yet he couldn’t get himself to stop. He could’ve sworn that he had to hold himself back from drooling at the sight of your long dress all scrunched up around your hips, exposing a bit of your legs to him. The sheer black fabric left much to the imagination as it wrapped perfectly around your thighs, that were perfectly plumped out for him in the fetal position that you slept in.

He had to physically run a hand down his face to distract the flow of blood reaching the unconventional spot right now, and instead tried to focus on finding out how he’d end up here. Sure he had no problems with sharing a bed with you, matter of fact he’d dreamt of it for months now ever since he’d developed a ‘crush’ on you as Steve would annoy him with. Yet, he felt that it was wrong as he could clearly smell the pungent smell of liquor on the both of you.

He grunted as he sat up, cracking his back like the old man that he was. Bucky checked up on you once more to find you peacefully sleeping the morning away, probably due to the amount that you drank yesterday, yet he didn’t care because it looked like you were having the best sleep of your life. As he fumbled with something along your bedside table, Bucky’s hand accidently came to crumble the side of a piece of paper.

Cursing to himself, he grabbed the sheet to try and smooth it out before you killed him for messing with your shit. Though he cared little for what that paper was, the words in bold ‘Marriage’ that he’d caught in the corner of his eye had surprised him, so he allowed himself to peek a little into your private life. A sudden new fear coursed through his body as he looked back at you for another second. Were you married and living a double life? Fuck, now he felt even more shitty as he laid on a bed with you, what would your husband think of all of this? Was your husband a shitty guy? Was that why you’d never mentioned him?

All sorts of questions ran through his head, but not once had he berated or blamed you in his head. He knew that you were nothing more than loyal, so it confused him even more as to how wedding papers were just casually laying there on the table. However, as he opened the sheet of paper to pry into your life, his heart stopped at the clear handwriting that could belong to nobody else than him. His signature and name needed no explanation or proof, they were all clearly written by him.

Bucky’s heart picked up the pace once more, only this time he felt like he was going to have a panic attack like he did after reliving his horrors through nightmares. He could barely remember shit of what had happened last night, and next thing he knows, he’s waking up next to the woman he fancies and apparently they’re married?

He fumbled with the paper in a stressed out attempt at scampering, he needed answers, and if nobody had them then he surely knew that the multiple cameras around the Tower had them. He needed to talk to Steve about this mess, and as he prepared to stand up, he froze at the sound of your yawn. He laid there unmoving for a solid minute, wishing that you’d solely changed positions and went back to sleep. After a whole minute of silence, Bucky’s shoulders dropped in relief, all until-

“Bucky…?”

let’s pretend like the avengers are all united, happy and alive lmao:)

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky x avenger!reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fluff #avenger!reader #avengers x reader #husband!bucky barnes #husband!bucky #bucky barnes angst

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moonstruckme · 3 months

Note

Hey love, im back to plague you with another idea...

A situationship / budding relationship james x reader where shes the Black brothers sister, but every time one of them catchs the two of them alone they physically pick her up and just walk away with that menacing Black stare.

Tysm love x

Thanks for requesting sweetheart!

James Potter x Black!reader ♡ 911 words

“Do you really think this is the best place to hang out?” you ask James, eyeing the closet in his dorm as if you’re brother’s going to come popping out.

“It’ll be fine,” he promises you in that optimistic, sure-footed way of his.

From the way Regulus had talked about Sirius’ friends at Hogwarts, you’d expected James to be insufferable. Arrogant, entitled, the true embodiment of the mask your oldest brother puts on when he’s here at school. But you’d discovered when you’d arrived that Sirius’ goofy friend wasn’t the James Potter you were warned about. He was self-assured, certainly. Confident, but in the years you’ve known him it’s never seemed like anything more sinister than that. James doesn’t walk into every room like he owns it; he walks in like it’s home. He brings that everywhere with him—that feeling of home, of belonging. It seeps into you when you’re with him, and to your brother’s acute repugnance, you’re with him more and more these days.

“Remus is off with Lily, and Sirius got pulled aside by coach after practice, so he’ll be on the pitch running drills for a good hour yet,” James goes on. He sits down on his bed, and you follow suit. “Plus, your dorm is occupied and this is the only other semi-private place I could think of.” His smile goes a bit sheepish as he shrugs, one-shouldered and boyish.

You catch his meaning—the privacy carries implications neither of you are ready to act on—and you’ve got no reason to feel awkward about that but a nervous laugh fizzes up out of you anyway. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you admit. Though Sirius is far from unaware of this blossoming whatever between you and James, neither of you are keen on him finding out through the grapevine that you were seen canoodling in the hallways. Privacy is ideal. “So, I’m guessing practice went better for you than it did for him?”

James shrugs again, the show of humility making you both grin. You can never seem to stop doing that around him. “Yeah,” he says, “practice for a seeker is pretty straightforward. Less strategy to it, so I guess I got off easy.”

“You make it sound like Sirius isn’t just hitting things with a bat,” you deadpan, and he laughs. The sound feels like sunbeams shooting straight into your gut.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” he hedges. “But hey, are you coming to the party after the match on Saturday?”

“Is there still going to be a party if you lose?”

James fixes you with a look. “We never lose, sweetheart.”

Another giggle bubbles out of you, though the joke isn’t really that hilarious. You secretly love when James calls you names like that. It makes your heart do all sorts of funny, acrobatic things. You don’t love that it’s probably not so secret, and he can almost definitely tell. His eyes go warm now, a knowing smile playing on the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah,” you say, “I’ll think about it.”

“You should come,” he encourages, leaning his hands back on the mattress. You very pointedly do not let your eyes linger on his forearms as he does so. “It’d make me happy to see you there.”

“You’re always happy,” you tease.

“That’s because you only see me when I’m seeing you.” You must look confused, because James’ clarifies, voice softening slightly, “I can’t help but be happy when I’m with you, sweetheart.”

The combined effect of the words, the tone of his voice, the sweet way he’s looking at you—it starts up more than butterflies in your stomach. There’s got to be a whole ecosystem in there by now, with buzzing bees and jumping frogs and everything. You look down, a half-hearted effort to hide the smile that takes you.

“James,” you murmur, lightly chiding.

The door comes open, and your brother’s eyes widen as they take in you on James’ bed, his hand an inch away from your leg and both of you looking terribly caught. Then they narrow.

“James Potter, zip your pants back up right this instant!”

“Sirius!” you exclaim, and there’s no lightness to this chiding, your face heating with mortification. You glance at James’ zipper, just to be sure—and yup, it’s fully closed, everything contained—and then glance quickly away, horrified all over again that you’d looked.

“We weren’t even doing anything,” you seethe, knowing your stare matches your brother’s as you glower at each other from across the room. “What are you even doing back?”

Sirius rolls his eyes, utilizing that older brother’s insouciance he knows gets under your skin like nothing else. “It seems you’ve gotten turned around. These are the boys’ dorms.” His words drip venom onto the dull red rug. “I’ll be happy to escort you back to yours. Let’s go.”

“No.” You set both hands on James’ bed, feeling ridiculously petulant. Sirius raises a brow as if to say No? but you ignore him. “This dorm is as much James’ as it is yours, and he invited me here.”

“Pads,” James says, not quite softly, but mildly compared to the fiery tones you and your brother are throwing back and forth, “we’re just talking.”

“And now you’re done talking.” Sirius shrugs, stalking toward you. You grip James’ sheets a bit tighter on instinct. “If I recall, you have a potions’ essay to write, and you’re not—ugh.” He grunts, wresting you away from James’ bed using a hold that’s worked since you were kids. James himself offers no help, other than a sympathetic grimace as you’re hauled off. Sirius fixes him with a cold glare in return. “You’re not getting that done in here.”

“You are so immature,” you gripe as he starts tugging you towards the stairs, your feet barely skimming the ground.

“We can talk about—oi, quit!—we can talk about who’s more mature when you stop pinching me, you prick!”

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mochiwrites · 4 months

Text

Scar feels numb when he hits the succeed button.

He stands alone before the Secret Keeper, staring up at it’s blank face with an equally blank expression. The shock is still in effect, his brain still attempting to process it all.

He’s alive.

But no one else is.

He stands at the monument of the server, the center point of everything. The wind blows, and it feels wrong. He gains five more hearts. A new book appears before him. There is no one to cheer as he hits the succeed button. There is no one to yell ‘fail’ in his ears for someone else.

It’s just Scar, and his task, and a graveyard littered with holes. Pearl’s voice is still ringing in his ears, the way she sounded up until she died.

“How did the guy with no friends win?”

He doesn’t know. The Secret Keeper made him the villain of the server, he had no friends, no matter how hard he tried. His tasks always got in the way of it. Maybe it was easier that way, not having any true alliances. He knows first hand what it does to someone when they have to kill a partner to win.

Scar is alone now, truly alone. He turns around, keeping his back to the Secret Keeper as his eyes survey the spawn before him. It doesn’t sit right, the lack of people gathered around. Sure, their numbers had dwindled a bit during the last few sessions, but it wasn’t by much. The group got smaller, and now it’s just him. Just Scar, the villain.

A laugh bubbles out of his lips, and suddenly Scar can’t hold it in. His task falls out of his hands, hitting the ground and his arms wrap around his stomach as he doubles over with laughter.

“This is— this is one heck of a funny joke guys!” He’s laughing so much it’s hard to breathe. “I wasn’t even trying to win!” That’s what he had told Pearl. He didn’t think he’d survive this long. That’s only happened one other time and…. Well.

His laughter dances on the air, filling the space of nothingness. If he pretends, he can hear the others laughing with him, alongside him.

“You did all that to make me the bad guy. You kept me from making any friends!” A hand covers his face, holding it as his laughter shakes his body. “You guys made me the villain of the server and somehow I’m the last one standing!”

It’s so ridiculous. Maybe there’s some kind of irony in there, Scar can’t be bothered to look.

“How did the guy with no friends win?”

He doesn’t know, but it’s kind of funny. Scar stands alone at the end of the world, with nothing but the things in his inventory and a server full of craters. The big statue behind him stares down at him, but he doesn’t care about its gaze. He continues to laugh, because if he stops, he fears what’ll happen.

“No one thought this would happen, everyone doubted me.” Scar was with them. He didn’t think it’d happen either. Him? Scar? Winning a Life Game? Three hours ago he wouldn’t have believed it. “But what do ya know! Villains can win too, sometimes!”

He’s not sure if he can call this a win. He’s alone on an empty server, with no one around. Scar thought he knew what loneliness was, a cold mountain with deepslate walls and wooden ceilings. But this? This is real loneliness. There isn’t another person around for miles. Every base is destroyed and empty, carnage left behind.

There is nothing here for him.

Scar’s laughter slows to a stop. His stomach hurts. So does his face. He straightens, standing tall as he takes a deep breath. He looks down at his task on the ground.

Win Secret Life.

“Is this what it’s like?” He addresses his question to the sky. There is no one to answer him, but he knows his question will be seen. Scar looks back to the server.

It doesn’t feel much like a win at all.

#mochi writes #slsmp spoilers #secret life #goodtimeswithscar #THIS IS SO MESSY #AND DONE REALLY FAST #BUT I AM HAVING EMOTIONS #SOOOOO MANY EMOTIONS #YELLING AND SCREAMING

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torusangel · 5 months

Text

Birthday boy | Gojo Satoru

My little drabble for Satoru’s bday! Just a short little fluff fest for my favorite man <3

“Toru, wake up it’s your birthday!” you roll over to shake him awake, he was a surprisingly heavy sleeper when he wanted to be, “the kids are definitely gonna have things prepared over at the school. They’ll be really upset if you’re latee”

He groans slowly waking up and rubbing his eyes, “if it’s my birthday shouldn’t we do whatever I want today?” Satoru sweeps you into his arms and wraps around you like a koala, “let’s just stay in hmm?” his lips trail to your shoulder peppering it with kisses before nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. He’s so childish but you love him, not even trying to escape. If Satoru really put his mind to something, there was no way of stopping him.

So you let him hold you, tangled limbs under the covers and his bigger frame enveloping you whole. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it. In fact you wished you could stay wrapped up in him forever, that he’d never have to leave to save the world, but of course that would never happen. It wasn’t often he had days off so you let yourself indulge in his love, always gone in the morning before you wake up— you wanted to sleep in too.

For someone that was so feared and idolized, Satoru was surprisingly very domestic. When he had the time he liked doing things around the house with you. Helping you clean, cook, the laundry, all the little things made him feel alive. Made you alive. He loved just doing nothing with you too, just laying in bed like this. He could feel your heart beat against his chest and the soft heat of your skin against his. Like a cat rubbing against a heater, you made the harsh cold of life feel so warm.

“Utahime and Nanami are really gonna beat your ass this time Toru~” your little giggles when he squeezed you tighter was all he needed. The soft pads of your fingers dragging up and down the muscles in his arm, he didn’t want anything else. He pressed his nose to the nape of your neck taking in the calming scent of your shampoo.

“Know they can’t touch me baby,” his voice reverberated against your skin sending a shiver down your spine. It was true and everyone knew it, an unfathomably big ego and the skill to back it up— Gojo Satoru was a dangerous man for many reasons. Sometimes you thought about how funny it’d be for his enemies to see him like this, so soft and peaceful at your side.

On your night stand you could hear the quiet buzz against the wood. You assumed it was probably the birthday group chat asking about where you were. When you reached out to text back his arm was already draping over you to get to it first. Stupidly long limbs, he tended to get things for and before you a lot. Satoru quickly unlocked it with his face ID you suggested he put in and opened up your camera to snap a picture of you both. His eyes were still a bit heavy with sleep but he wore his signature cocky grin all the same while you hid your face in your hands in embarrassment.

He sent off the picture and added a short message before tossing your phone to the opposite bottom corner of the bed and immediately resumed his clingy position, “Satoru! What did you just say?” you squirmed in his hold to no avail, his smile still evident against your skin.

“Don’t worry honeyyy, just gave us more time,” unable to hold back your sigh, you sank back against him with a pout, “don’t give me that look, know it’s cuz’ I love you right?” he turned you in his arms so you could look at him face to face and put on his best puppy dog eyes. Annoyingly, you felt your features soften and pressed your lips against his for a sweet kiss.

“I know Toru, love you too. To be honest I missed this.” the sun was peering in through the blinds and reflecting off his hair to sparkle just like snow, you’d always said he was the pretty one in the relationship which he would always adamantly deny, going on and on about your beauty.

Sunshine and slow mornings never felt so good. Although you would never fully understand the world he comes from, you knew from the moment he was born a bounty had been placed on his head. With every passing birthday being another year the world remained forever dictated by his existence, a burden that you couldn’t fathom in the slightest. Yet here he was, not as the strongest, not as the savior for mankind, simply as the man you loved. The man who’d give up everything for you.

“Happy birthday Satoru.”

I miss you everyday

Bonus meanwhile…..

“I’m gonna kill that stupid little stuck up son of a-“

“Utahime, the children are here,” MeiMei tapped her on the shoulder, a sly smile on her face from watching the younger women’s rage, “you best keep your vocabulary in check.”

“Aww sensei looks so happy though!” Yuuji smiled looking at the picture. He was seemingly the only one to think so optimistically about the smug faced strongest.

“I’m gonna eat his cake without him if he keeps this up.” Nobara had already taken a slice.

“I don’t know how that blindfolded idiot ever ended up with such an intelligent woman…..” Fushiguro stood in the corner, watching the chaos his teacher caused knowing he was the only one enjoying peace and quiet at home.

#gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #jjk fluff #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen manga #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk season 2 #gojo x you #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader

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rebouks · 2 months

Text

Previous // Next

Hey Bird Boy!

I promised I’d write didn’t I? I’m missing you already, which is kinda stupid and cheesy, but true! There aren’t any other kids around now the holidays are over, so it’s just old people and super outdoorsy people who walk really fast with weird sticks and stuff, lame! Daddy lent me his crappy polaroid he uses for work so I can send you pictures and stuff so at least I’ve got something to do, they won’t be as good as yours but it’s better than nothing.

I tried to get a good picture but it’s hard to hold this huge thing with one hand and this is the best I could do but my teeth are totally starting to grow back so maybe I won’t look so dumb soon.. you can’t really see em but I can feel em poking through!!! It kinda hurts but I suppose we only have to grow em once so it’s not so bad. Growing teeth as a baby doesn’t count cos you can’t remember it.. how many teeth does your little sister have?!

I’m super looking forward to getting to know you properly since I can ask you stuff now! I’ll try n remember to ask you things instead of talking about myself the whole-time cos that’d be annoying to reply to, wouldn’t it?

By the way.. I took a bunch of pictures of my dad until I caught him laughing just to show you that he can be fun and nice, not always grumpy! He thinks he looks cool with his gold teeth but I think they make him look goofy, like a wannabe pirate haha!! YARRR!

I set Amber free cos I started to feel bad about keeping her cooped up in that tiny plastic box and I don’t think I’d like it if I were her, like how I’m starting to hate this stupid tower! I miss looking at her but I decided to start collecting fancy rocks instead since they’re not alive and don’t have any feelings. Dad digs up stuff for work sometimes so it makes total sense!! He said I’m not allowed to join him for that but we can do it on our own instead.. he bought me a big pretty one to start my collection, even though it’s kinda like cheating it still counts!

We found a birdwatching book stuffed in the back of the bookshelf looking for this notebook and dad said we should put some food out to see which ones we could spot.. they attacked him whilst he was putting the seeds out though so he said it was a stupid hobby and that he didn’t want to do it anymore. GET READY FOR THIS!!!

Ahahahahaahaaa I almost dropped his camera laughing at him and he took it off me for a couple days but it was totally worth it, please please pleaaaaase keep this picture cos I almost didn’t wanna send it to you so I could laugh at it forever and ever hahahaha!!!!

Oh, and I told daddy to take some pictures of me whilst I wasn’t looking like you do cos I thought it’d be neat, but I forgot I asked him to do it and got mad at him cos I was in my pj’s and my hair was all crazy.. it’s kinda funny I GUESS!! Plus, he said it made us even for me sending you the picture of him with the birds so here you go BUT DON’T KEEP THIS ONE!!

I got carried away and forgot to ask you stuff so here’s a list!

How old are you?

When’s your birthday?

Do you have any pets?!

What’s your favourite food?

Do you have all your big teeth yet? (it totally looked like it but you never know!!)

I was gonna think of more stuff to ask you and now the back of this page looks really empty but my brain farted and I really wanna send you this so you can send one back! I’ll think of more I promise!! I’m looking forward to “talking” to you so I guess you can write about whatever you want.. and I wanna see your house!! I bet your pictures will be way better than mine!

Yours excitedly, Alex :]

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #ts4 story #sims story #forever in between #fib #oscar finch #robin finch #alexandra sampson #AHHHHHHHH #✉!!#having a pen-pal as a kid was so fun omg #they'd rather get to hang out in person but STILL #adorbs even when they're apart #🥺#it's so fun writing letters from characters pov too btw cos you can say a big fu to grammar and write whatever the hell u want #10/10 would recommend #let's start a thing where our oc's pair up as pen-pals and write to each other skjdk

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quizzicalwriter · 6 months

Note

dally Winston x hyperfemme, soc!reader

You can make it nsfw or just fluff x

It’s you, it’s you

Pairing: Dallas Winston x Fem/Soc!reader

Summary: Dallas wasn’t one to be cordial with Soc’s on the best of days, so how the hell had you wove your way through his heart?

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Soft Dallas, touching, kissing, fingering, morning sex. It’s cute and I need more soft Dallas moments, he’s capable of being soft dammit.

A/N: Thank you for the request!

Word Count: 2.9k

If someone had told Dallas a year ago he’d be wrapped around the finger of a Soc he would’ve punched the shit out of them, out of principle, of course. Yet here he was, staring up at your bedroom window, wagering on if he could make it up onto the roof if he used the railing from the porch as his footing. He’d had to sneak in to see you after getting caught between your legs by your less-than-thrilled father who subsequently chased him off the lawn with a shotgun.

It sounded cliche, but it was true. The talk you’d had with your parents after the fact mortified you more than anything you’d ever had to go through up until that point. How you were a ‘good girl’, how you had a ‘pedigree.’ Their words made you feel like a damn dog, but that’s all they ever spoke of when it came to you, how you were supposed to marry someone rich and keep the family name out of the dirt.

If it’d been years ago you might’ve been inclined to agree, but that was then, and now you were just as whipped for Dallas as he was for you. You two continued to meet, albeit a bit more secretive than before, usually unprompted and random on his part if he could help it. He liked the way you smiled whenever he showed up unannounced, how you’d scramble to your feet to throw your arms around his neck and kiss him. It made him feel funny, made his heart thump harder in his chest, something he’d never felt with anyone before.

So instead of you sneaking him in as you always did, both of you whispering and tiptoeing up to your bedroom, he decided he could hop up onto the roof. He dried his hands on his jeans, murmuring some self-encouragement under his breath as he ran toward the porch. Somehow he successfully propped himself up on the railing, his hands clutching the lip of the roof for dear life. As he propped his upper half up on the roof his knees knocked against the wooden rails along your parent’s front porch. He stilled, bottom half still swinging in the air as he prayed for your parents to have slept through the noise.

Somehow they did, and after a moment he hoisted himself up onto the roof, taking a moment to catch his breath before moving around the side toward your bedroom window. He’d been dusting off his jeans when he locked eyes with your form, hand behind yourself as you raked your hair back, detangling it from what he could see. But in truth all he could focus on was the near sheer quality of your nightgown, the white fabric clinging to your skin that still appeared wet.

He could hear music softly humming from your record player, your hips swaying in tandem with the beat as you applied your moisturizer. He was mesmerized, standing like an idiot on your parent's roof staring into your bedroom window, unable to tear himself away from the heavenly sight that played out before him. Only when you turned around and locked eyes with him did he move, but in your mind, his figure didn’t register as him, it was just some random guy on your roof. So you stumbled backward, bumping into your dresser as a scream built in your chest.

Dallas could see the fear written across your face, so he moved toward the window, cursing under his breath as he motioned to his face. “It’s me!” He whisper shouted, laughter following his words as your face relaxed, fear soon replaced by blatant irritation as you padded over to your bedroom window, unlocking it and lifting it for him to crawl in.

“You’re a psychopath, you know that?” You huffed out, unable to hide the smile on your lips as you watched him duck into your bedroom. “How’d you get up here? Did you jump?”

“Porch railing.” He stated, tone nonchalant as he closed the window behind him, turning to you with a grin. “C’mon, sweetheart, don’t act like you ain’t happy to see me.”

You’d never been good at lying, especially when it came to Dallas, so instead of playing the part of an irritated girlfriend you moved toward him, looping your arms around his neck as you placed a gentle kiss on his waiting lips. You could smell cigarette smoke on his skin, surely from one he’d smoked on his way over to your house. It wasn’t too long of a walk, but you knew him well enough to know that any walk longer than five minutes would result in a cigarette between his lips.

“Missed you.” You murmured against his lips, pulling back a fraction to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. “Did you want to sleep over?”

The words were so innocent, innocent enough that it left Dallas’s heart aching in his chest, a smile he couldn’t will away if he tried writing itself across his face as you looked up at him, doe-eyes wide with hope. He nodded, placing a kiss on your forehead as you giggled in excitement.

“You chose the perfect day.” You replied, backing away from him before motioning proudly to your bed, the bedsheets and pillows all puffed up and pretty. “Just washed them, they’re nice and warm.”

He hummed out a laugh, kicking off his shoes before moving over to the bed, smoothing his hand out against the sheets. They felt silken under his touch, as much as he wanted his thoughts to remain pure he could only picture how you’d looked only a week ago, face down and rutting your hips back into him as he fucked you.

“They’re nice, doll.” He whispered, turning to you with a smile. You flushed, moving over to him before propping yourself up on the bed, white nightgown billowing with the movement, giving Dallas a perfect view of your ass before it was covered once more. He gave himself a moment, clearing his throat quietly before joining you on your bed, pulling you flush with his chest in a manner he knew you loved.

You tucked your head into his chest, breathing in his scent, the familiar mixture of cigarette smoke and cologne. You’d always loved moments like that, being held by him, savoring the shared comfortable silence. He was a rugged person, someone whose childhood was the polar opposite of your own. You never spoke of it, but in the moments he held you, resting his cheek against the top of your head, you could feel it healing something within him.

“Stuffed animals are diggin’ into my back, man.” He grumbled out, lifting himself momentarily to pull one of your stuffed animals out from underneath him. He looked down at you, holding the plush in his hand with his eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Is this new? Where the hell do they keep coming from?”

You laughed, extending out your hand to grab at the poor thing, placing it behind you on top of your pillow. “Be nice, Dal! They have feelings.”

“Sure, doll.” He responded through a laugh of his own, making himself comfortable by your side again. He’d bought you one or two, those were the ones you constantly kept on your bed, loving how they reminded you of him. But honestly, the rest were cute to you and you couldn’t pass them up. It was like your dresses or your nightgowns, if something looked cute you felt a pull to get it - and you did.

His hand traced up and down along your back, loving the feel of your nightgown paired with the warmth of your skin pouring through it. You relaxed into the touch, unconsciously arching your back whenever he’d near your neck, the sight making him laugh quietly to himself. You only hummed in response, eyes fluttering shut as you felt sleep creep onto you like a warm blanket. Dallas had a way of calming you that stunned you, little did you know you had the very same effect on him to the point that the guys had asked what had gotten into him as of late, how he wasn’t as quick to anger as he used to be. He’d tell them about you in the future, but he wanted to keep you to himself, for now, anyway.

As your breaths turned soft he watched you, a subtle smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he raised his hand to brush your hair from your face, gingerly helping it behind your ear. He hadn’t been planning on you falling asleep in his arms within the first ten minutes of him being in your room, but he wasn’t exactly complaining about the situation either. In a bid to get comfortable, he stretched his legs, a small groan emanating from his chest at the feeling. Your face scrunched, lips pouted as you pushed yourself closer to his side. He let you, wrapping his arm securely around you as he let his head fall back against one of the many pillows you had on your bed.

You couldn’t remember when you’d fallen asleep, but by the time you’d woken up the morning sun poured through your bedroom windows, your bed noticeably empty. You whined, wiping at your eyes as you tried to focus through the sleepiness still lingering in your veins.

“I’m still here.” Dallas responded, directing your attention over to one of your bedroom windows where he stood hunched over, peering out the glass. He looked over his shoulder to you, giving you a faint smile as he straightened himself out, hair a mess from having just woken up. “Your parents are gone.”

You nodded, stretching your arms over yourself as you moved to sit up on your bed. “They have work.” Your words were interrupted by a yawn, face scrunching up as the remainder of your tiredness trickled from your mind.

Dallas moved back to your bed, gentle with his movements as he placed his hands on either side of your hips, his lips seeking yours. You smiled into the kiss, hands moving to cup his jaw as you laid back on your bed, pulling him on top of you. His skin was so warm, making you shiver slightly. You nudged the sheets down with your foot, helping him underneath them before pulling them back over the both of you, enveloping you both in warmth. He moved his lips from yours, trailing kisses along your jaw and onto your throat. You tilted your head back, quiet sighs falling past your lips as you let your eyes flutter shut, focusing entirely on the feeling of Dallas touching you.

His hand smoothed up and underneath your nightgown, fingertips grazing over your clothed cunt and over your stomach, goosebumps following wherever his touch went. Your breath caught in your chest as his hand cupped your breast, thumb circling the soft skin there as his other arm rested beside your head, propping himself up over you. His knee moved between your legs, applying steady pressure to your cunt, your hips instinctually rolling down against him.

“Dal-“ You whined, feeling your wetness coating your underwear as you continued rutting against his thigh. You were desperate, desperate for his fingers, tongue, anything he’d give you. He could hear the desperation in your tone, a coy smile upon his lips as he lifted his head, leaning up to you to press a kiss to your cheek.

He hummed against your skin, hand moving to cup your sex against his knee, fingers prodding against the outline of your folds, delicately rubbing his fingers up and down. Your hips bucked into his touch, whines falling from your lips as you wordlessly begged him for more. You could hear the slickness of your arousal against his fingers, even through the fabric of your underwear. The sound caused Dallas to smile against your temple, placing a chaste kiss there before moving his hand to hook around the hem of your underwear, slowly pulling them down and off of you.

His hand moved back between your thighs, middle and ring finger separating your folds before pushing into your cunt, gingerly brushing against that spot within you that had your legs trembling against him. Your head fell back against your pillow, soft whines of his name tumbling past your lips as he pushed his fingers deeper, wanting to feel you wrapped tight around his fingers for as long as you could manage.

He trailed his lips down your cheek, onto your throat, taking a moment to leave love marks against your soft flesh before moving to kiss along your chest. You could feel his thumb circling your clit, the added sensation making you rock your hips against his touch, your cunt fluttering around his fingers.

“Can feel you squeezing my fingers, doll.” He murmured against your skin, taking your breast into his mouth, moaning against it as he began moving his fingers faster within you. You could only whimper, back arching from the bed as your arms wrapped languidly around him, not wanting him to move from his current position. When your moans picked up an octave he pulled away, slowly pulling his fingers from your cunt, but continuing his movements against your clit.

“Want you cumming on my cock.” He whispered, voice hoarse as he moved his hand from you for a moment, pulling his pants and boxers down enough to free his cock. You wrapped your legs around his hips, scooting yourself down slightly to bring your cunt flush with his hard cock. You could feel his precum smearing against your folds as he guided himself into you, his eyes fluttering at the feeling of your tight heat enveloping him, pulling him deeper within you.

As soon as he’d bottomed out inside of you he moved back up to you, arms on either side of your shoulders. He looked so angelic above you, morning sun highlighting his features, soft lips parted, hair a mess. You’d wanted to take a moment to savor him like that, but the thoughts were wiped from your mind as he rolled his hips into you, tip brushing against your cervix. Your eyebrows furrowed, a drawn-out moan leaving you as you wrapped your arms around his neck, nails subtly digging into the flesh of his back.

He smiled down at you, pulling out halfway before jutting his hips forward, the motion pulling a gasp from your lungs, cunt tightening around him. His hand moved to your hip, squeezing the muscle and plush skin as he fucked you, keeping the same slow and deep pace all the while. You moved your hand down between you, swirling your fingers around your clit as he moved within you. Your eyes stayed locked with his, loving how connected you felt in that moment.

Your free hand moved to cup the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair. He moved his hand, grabbing your wrist that rested against his shoulder, intertwining his fingers with yours before pressing it back against the bed. You tightened your grasp on his hand, the cold metal of his ring digging into your knuckle, but you only cared about the way he looked down at you, how his cock felt buried inside of you, brushing against that spot paired with your fingers circling your clit.

You could feel your orgasm building in your lower stomach, your hips beginning to rock with his, cunt squeezing around his cock. He sucked in a sharp breath, exhale faltering as he leaned down to connect your lips once more. You moaned into the kiss, squeezing his hand harder as you felt your orgasm sweep through you, causing your hips to jerk slightly as he continued fucking you through it. He swallowed your moans, not pulling away from the kiss until his lungs burned, aching for air.

He pulled away with a groan, eyebrows furrowed together as he pulled out of you, hand moving down to pump himself through his orgasm, painting your lower stomach milky white with his cum. You caught your breath, watching with parted lips as he fucked his hand, the way his head fell back, a moan falling past his lips. The sight was gorgeous enough to make you clench around nothing.

His eyes moved back up to yours, a soft smile enveloping his lips as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. You smiled, tilting your head back to feel his lips against yours. He smiled into the kiss, tilting his head to the side to press kisses against your cheek and jaw, the softness of it making you laugh, eyes squeezing shut at the ticklish feeling of his laughter brushing against your skin.

He moved to lay beside you, a short groan following the movement, causing you to look over at him. He sighed, an irritated sound as he arched his back up, fishing another stuffed animal free from underneath his back. He looked at you, the look making you cover your mouth to conceal another fit of laughter.

“You have too damn many.” He grunted out, placing the stuffed animal onto the pillow beside you. “Too damn many.”

You pouted, wiping your lower stomach free of his cum with the bottom of your nightgown, making a mental note to hide the fabric at the bottom of your laundry hamper before he left. You rolled over to face him, leaning up to place a kiss on his nose.

“Not enough.” You replied, words ending in a giggle as he rolled his eyes, although a hint of a smile could be found tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Whatever you say, doll.”

A/N: My phone died editing this. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this! Even if you skip it over I appreciate the interaction with my work nonetheless. As always, you can find my work over on my ao3 account under the user, “Unscriptural.” I hope you guys enjoy soft Dallas as much as I do!

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bloatedandalone04 · 5 months

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Bets & Bargains - Prologue

Series Masterlist

➪in which bradley makes, what he didn’t realize, was the biggest mistake of his life, and tries to talk his way out of it.

Warnings: frat-boy bradley, college au, swearing, alcohol consumption, use of weed, drugs, hints about bradley having anger issues, bets hehe

WC; 866 | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | THANKS FOR 3.8K FOLLOWERS

“I want out,” Bradley announced as he all but slammed five one hundred dollar bills down onto the table. “I don’t have the rest right now, but I’ll get it soon. I’m out.”

Eli looked down at the money then up at Bradley, and the two held eye contact for a few seconds before he laughed. “You can’t back out now, dude,” he said and placed his palm flat against the bills and pushed them back towards Bradley. “She’s already pretty much in love with you, man. It’ll be a waste to give up now.”

Westley nodded and sipped on his beer, the neck of the bottle hanging loosely between his fingers. Bradley held back a scoff at the fact that it wasn’t even noon yet and these two were already drunk off their asses.

These were the guys he considered his friends? God, he felt as pathetic as they looked.

“Give it a few more weeks,” the blond offered in a slurred voice. “We’re betting good money on the two of you, and it’d be a damn shame for our savings to go to waste like that.”

Bradley looked between the two drunks with a cold gaze, his head shaking as he stepped away from the table. “Tough,” he muttered. “I don’t care. I’ll pay you half now and half when I get it. I mean it, I’m done with this.”

Eli laughed, a dark, humorless sound as he stood up and collected the money in his hands. “You’re not done, Bradshaw,” he grunted. “You agreed to this, so you’ll just have to get a fucking grip and see it through. We’ll keep quiet about it, but you’re going all the way.”

He thought about how much this could hurt you in the end, and he didn’t want to be the cause of so much of your pain. He wanted to prevent it, end it now before it came back to haunt both of you.

He was better than this, he knew he was. It was just a dumb, drunk idea he came up with when he was feeling the most vulnerable he had in his entire life.

It was almost comical how fast you became a part of his life, but there was nothing funny about this moment at all.

Bradley shook his head again when Eli held the money out to him. “Guys, she’s nice, okay? She doesn’t deserve-”

“I don’t give a fuck, alright?” Eli muttered angrily. “You can either finish what you started, or I’ll go out and tell her myself.” He grabbed Bradley’s wrist and roughly shoved the money back into his hand.

Bradley glared at the money then up at Eli, his heartbeat loud in his ears. “You’re fucked up,” he mumbled as he looked down at Westley before back up at his other so called ‘friend’. “You know that?”

Eli shrugged with a fake grin. “You came up with this idea,” he pointed out as he walked back over to his chair. “You’re just as, if not more, fucked up as the rest of us.”

Wes laughed as he took the freshly rolled joint from Eli. “You’ve come this far, Brad,” and there was that stupid fucking nickname he loathed. “What’s a bit longer? No one’s heart has been broken yet, you’ve still got time.”

That wasn’t true. Not really. If Bradley continued to act like his initial intentions with you were pure, he was sure he would end up breaking his own heart, as well as yours.

Bradley narrowed his eyes at him then at Eli. “Fuck both of you,” he mumbled and turned around.

“Yeah, you’re no saint, Bradshaw,” Eli called after him in a mocking tone. “Don’t act all high and mighty just because you feel bad about hurting a girl you hardly know. I don’t know why the fuck you care so much.”

That wasn’t true, either. Despite trying not to, Bradley actually let himself get to know you. He knew what made you happy, what pissed you off, how you take your coffee on the rare occasion you actually drank it, what your favorite movie was and a hell of a lot more than he intended to.

After being around you in an attempt to make Bri jealous, he had found out that you and he had a lot in common, despite all the signs the universe threw at you that said you should’ve been polar opposites.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, turning back around to face Eli. “You don’t know anything, so stop talking about her.”

“Or what?” Eli challenged. “What? You’re going to mess my face up again? We both know who holds the cards here. I said she’ll stay oblivious, but I’ll gladly change my mind. So go ahead, threaten me again.”

Bradley would, in a heartbeat, but Eli is right. He held complete power over him right now, and would continue to until you find out about this stupid fucking bet. God, he hoped that day never comes.

So, instead of adding fuel to the fire, he just shook his head and left the rundown house and walked across campus to your much nicer and more inviting dorm.

Continuation, anyone? Might make this into a series?!

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradsaw x reader #rooster top gun #rooster fanfic #rooster x reader #top gun rooster #top gun maverick #top gun au #bets and bargains au #bets and bargains

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360iris · 1 year

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with a feeling (poly!prongsfoot x reader | mafia au)

“You’ve missed me, baby?” James asks with a bright smile, both hands firmly gripping the steering wheel as he speaks to you through the car console.

“More than anything, Jamie.” You answer back immediately, and though he’s focusing primarily on the road, he can see from a quick glance at the screen how you’re currently sprawled out on your stomach in bed. Your soft cheek resting against the backs of your hands, cutely pouting at the camera as you mentally urge your boyfriends to return home as quickly and safely as possible.

“What about Sirius, hun?” James asks with a cheeky grin, sparing a glance towards the man currently riding in the passenger’s seat, knowing full well the response he’s going to get.

“What about him?” You ask in a considerably different tone, your voice bordering indifferent as you turn your attention to your nails. Acting as though those shimmering, opaque gel polished digits were significantly more interesting in comparison to the new topic of discussion.

That’s all it was in the end however- a long-standing game of pretend that existed between Sirius and yourself since the day the two of you laid eyes on one another. A teasing charade which masked caring carasses as tugging fistfuls of hair, and transforming fleeting kisses into prominent bites and bright red hickeys.

From an outsider’s perspective, the two of you were united on some semblance of a common ground- appearing intimidating, judgemental but breathtakingly beautiful in each other’s silent company.

And to friends, you behaved quite differently. A bickering, arguing duo who could rarely get through a single conversation without it coming to empty insults.

But to James, he alone got to see you as you truly were- learning your past and how you met Sirius before you’d known the faces, or names of any of the other Marauders. A particularly peculiar, but intimate love story in its own right.

“Did you miss him?” He answers, deciding to humor your game as he did more often than not.

“I suppose I noticed it was significantly quieter than usual, without a particular loudmouth running around in the house.” James chuckles at your response as Sirius huffs indignantly, glaring icily at the screen before an idea comes to mind and he’s suddenly wearing a faint mischievous smirk.

“That’s very funny, kitten.” Sirius responds, slipping a strand of hair behind his ear as he leans back against the leather seat. “You know I’ve been meaning to ask if you enjoyed your three weeks of solitude. But then, I remembered that you were left with nothing to fuck but a few silicone cocks and those tiny fingers of yours. And I can’t imagine that anyone would’ve been able to make the most of that situation. Can’t say I had any trouble like that however.” He finishes, and you know he’s referring to having James to fuck when the need or interest inevitably arose.

Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you don’t bother to answer because he’s right, and you hate it. Choosing to silently glower into the camera as he stared back smugly.

“Is that true, sweetheart?” James chimes in, a bit of pity apparent in his tone as he mulls over the mental image of you laying prettily on your back. Attempting and failing to replicate even an eighth of the pleasure and fervor you’d grown accustomed to receiving during sex. “You weren’t able to come as hard as you’d like, baby?”

If that sentence had come from Sirius, you would have thrown the darkest glare you could’ve physically managed. Would’ve probably flipped him off and ignored anything he’d said for the remainder of the call. But it’d come from sweet James, who you knew felt genuine sympathy at the thought of you experiencing even as minor an inconvenience as that during, and due to, his absence.

“No, I wasn’t able to.” You answer quietly, pointedly not looking in Sirius’ direction.

“We’ll make up for that, honey. I promise.”

This scenario now has a blurb series based on it! Pt. I, Pt. II

#the marauders #hp #harry potter #sirius black #sirius black x reader #marauders era #poly marauders #prongsfoot #james potter x sirius black #james potter x reader #james potter fluff #hp blurb #harry potter blurb #hp fanfic #mafia!marauders #mafia au

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nickgoesinsane · 9 months

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PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WRITE IT INDULDE UR HOMELANDER BRAINROT WE NEED MORE JOHN FICS he's such a freak GOD. Need an awkward, strained, codependent relationship with him- romantic, platonic, familial, idc.

I can imagine reader being like absolutely flabbergasted, just completely dumbfounded that John suddenly started hanging around you, inserting himself into your life. He's all overbearing artificially charismatic, forcing proximity and connection if you want it or not, but like. This is the fucking Homelander, how can you turn down this perfect opportunity???? This is literally what millions dream of.

So over time you grow close, and it's awkward and stunted, but goddamn if you're gonna turn away the literal face of Vought. And it's... strangely comforting, being around him, knowing youre practically untouchable, watching him place you on a pedestal in his mind. He's never been able to experience that familial bond before, and you can see it in him, suprised as you find pity and tenderness seeping it's way into your thoughts of the world's strongest hero. His intrusive questions and stiff-yet-insistent pleasantries turn from offputting to endearing, the sense of stomach-churning dread that surrounds him pushed to the back of your mind as you let him get close, allow him more willingly into your life. You're honestly honored, being able to see a more "true" and "vulnerable" side to him the public isn't granted.

(I'd be a little scared if you disappointed him though, or "betrayed" his idea of how you should act around him/the way your dynamic should work. Good luck lmaooo)

He’s so delusional, it’d be funny if it wasn’t so concerning. He genuinely sees you as his baby— probably more like a younger sibling than his child. Homelander thinks you can do no wrong and that you need to be protected. You thought it was super weird until you found out about his upbringing (a super sad backstory that could be considered hardcore if he’d been an actual hero instead of, uh... that). Then you noticed that little displays of affection like checking up on him, sharing snacks and giving him hugs genuinely make him less prone to violence. He’s like an unpredictable feral cat that’s on the road to being fully domesticated.

Is it healthy for either of you? No, but you can’t afford a therapist that can actually deal with a situation like this so...

#╰┈➤ nick answers !#the daddy and abandonment issues are strong in this one #the boys brainrot #the boys x reader #platonic homelander #homelander x reader #the boys

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juyeonszn · 7 months

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THERE’S NO ESCAPE (YOU’VE TAKEN TENURE IN MY HEART)

PAIRING jacob bae x f!reader

WORD COUNT 3.38k

GENRES fluff ﹒angst ﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, mentions of toxic relationships. mentions of cheating, mentions of psycho girlfriends 💀, cobie being the most caring loving individual in the world, semi-public sex, car sex, little bit of manhandling, lots of desperation, little bit of nipple play, some dry humping tbh, no foreplay bc we ball like steph curry, unprotected sex (BE SAFE1!!11!!), marking 😹😹😹, um i lied… there is More than a Little manhandling, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampie lol, jacob is kind of insatiable, the end is cute

SUMMARY only jacob would tell you he’d just broken up with his girlfriend and comfort you rather than seek comfort for himself. only jacob could know exactly what you wanted and needed, more than you knew yourself.

MORE HELLAURRRR finally getting this bad boy out!! she’s the (not so) calm before the storm aka the fic before fawntober starts LOLLL anyway! this was requested by my lovely dearest moni <3 i hope it was everything u hoped it’d be!! prompts used are: 14, 20 💪

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble

When people say you’ll know when you’ve met The One, they’re lying. They’re lying straight through their teeth because they don’t know what else to tell you. Maybe they feel sorry for you. Maybe that’s what they were told when they were growing up. Whatever the reason may be, you knew it wasn’t true.

How could it be true?

You thought your boyfriend was The One when you first started dating. He did everything right. He held open doors for you. He walked on the side of the sidewalk closest to the street. He held your hand so you wouldn’t get lost in crowds. He learned what your favorite dishes were and brought them to you whenever you were stressed and needed comfort. He bought you flowers every time you went on a date, and sometimes even just because he felt like it. He was the perfect boyfriend.

Until he wasn’t.

You’d been together for three years now, and this past year had been a living hell. You’re not sure what went wrong, but eventually all those doting behaviors came to an end. He stopped opening doors for you. He stopped walking on the side of the sidewalk closest to the street. He stopped holding your hand so you wouldn’t get lost in the crowd. He stopped caring about your favorite dishes or when you needed comfort. He stopped buying you flowers because you stopped going on dates. He was no longer the perfect boyfriend.

You used to think he was The One because you’d been told that you would just know when you met him. And how could you not think he was The One after he did the textbook boyfriend things? But now you weren’t so sure. After all, if he was truly The One, he wouldn’t be treating you like you were a second option.

All of his attention seemed to be on work and going out with friends every weekend. It felt like he couldn’t give two shits about you, or if you stayed up to wait for him when he didn’t call. And perhaps it was your own fault. You let things get to this point and never spoke up. You bit your tongue when he mentioned he’d be working late, even if you knew there was no way his work required so much overtime.

The only reason you still stuck around was because you were complacent. You were scared of change. Despite everything about your relationship having changed since the beginning, it was still your relationship and leaving it would be a greater change. You couldn’t help that you were a creature of habit.

It was kind of funny though, considering the fact that your best friend was going through the same exact thing.

Jacob and his girlfriend got together similarly around the time as you and your boyfriend. She was sweet when you first met her, everything Jacob wanted in a partner. He would occasionally boast to you about how caring and compassionate she was. He even swore he would marry her one day. He was also the textbook definition of a boyfriend, but he never stopped his actions. And yet somehow, she too switched up.

She became controlling and possessive, like any girl who breathed the same air as Jacob was trying to steal him away from her. She read his text messages, she knew his passwords, she knew his work and school schedule. She even knew nearly as much about you as he did.

You found this out after the two of you went out for lunch one day. He was so frustrated over the situation, but couldn’t escape just like you. He was also afraid of the disruption to his life. Because she was pretty much stalking his phone activity, you planned a weekly hangout where you’d complain to each other about your respective relationships.

Tonight was one of those hangouts.

You’d met up at a cute little family owned Italian restaurant for dinner, both of you worn out from your deteriorating relationships. But the sight of one another was almost enough to ease the weight on your shoulders, to fix every problem single-handedly.

The lighting inside the restaurant is dim, every table adorned with candles and slim vases with a daisy. You hadn’t been here in years, the last time being when you and your boyfriend first started dating. It used to be one of your favorite spots to visit with Jacob, but you stopped coming together once you’d gotten into your own relationships. Being here with your boyfriend felt… off. So you never came back.

Sitting across the table from Jacob had your heart fluttering in your chest, a weird sensation you’d long forgotten. Despite the reoccurring thought about how attractive he looked tonight, you couldn’t help but notice how dejected he looks. He hadn’t said much, which was completely out of the ordinary. He always had something to say, always had a little quip prepared.

He pushes around the pasta on his plate, lips pursed as he does so. You let out a sigh, taking a sip of your wine and setting your fork down with a clack against the ceramic plate. “Are you okay?”

“Hmm?” He glances up from his food, like he’d been checked out this whole time. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”

“No you’re not, Cobie. You’ve been quiet since we got here and you’ve hardly eaten,” you say pointedly, crossing your arms over your chest. “Now, what’s up? Don’t forget that I know you like the back of my hand.”

He lets out a small chuckle, leaning back in his seat. (You ignore the way the action has that previous fluttering travel down into your stomach.) “Well, I didn’t really know how to bring this up, so I guess I was kinda in my head about that,” he turns his head away from you momentarily, wetting his lips before looking back at you. “I broke up with Kyunmi last night.”

You know your eyes are comically wide upon hearing this revelation, especially when Jacob has to bite his lip to prevent laughter. You definitely weren’t expecting him to say *that*. He’d shared with you numerous times that he didn’t think he could break up with her, too afraid to risk her having a meltdown over it. You could only wonder what made him change his mind.

“I’m glad you’re… out of that situation now?” You form it more as a question, not sure if he considered this a good thing or not.

“Thanks, N/N. I appreciate that,” he appears lighter now that he’s gotten it off his chest, indulging himself in his pasta finally. “It was a difficult decision to make, but it’s for the better. I felt suffocated, you know?”

All you can do is nod, too familiar with that feeling yourself. Jacob Bae was a brave man for being able to find his way out of such a toxic relationship. You wished one day, you could gather the courage to do the same.

As the thought resonates with you, your phone rings, as if reading your mind. Your eyebrows furrow at the caller ID, confused why he’d be calling you right now. You mutter an apology to Jacob, excusing yourself from the table to talk outside. With a roll of your eyes, you answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Where the fuck are you?”

His harsh tone and loud voice directly in your ear has you flinching instinctively, wincing at how pissed off he sounds. “I’m— um— out.”

“Obviously I fucking know that. I’m asking where. Why aren’t you home?” Okay, maybe you were just adding fuel to the fire.

“I’m having dinner with a friend,” you frown, kicking a pebble near your foot. “Why do you care?”

“Because I’m home and I wanted to have dinner with my fucking girlfriend. Is that too much to ask for now?” His voice just keeps rising in volume. “Are you with that guy you’re friends with? Jacob, is it? Can’t keep your goddamn legs closed for once?”

You feel like crying. You’re humiliated. How could he think so lowly of you? After all the nights you’ve spent staying awake until early hours of the morning, waiting for him to come home just to smell another girl’s perfume all over his collar. And he had the audacity to slut shame you? You feel the bile threatening to push from the back of your throat.

“Fuck you,” you bark, wiping your runny nose with the heel of your palm. “I’ve never once cheated on you, you fucking prick.”

“Likely story,” he scoffs. “You better get your ass home before you make me angry, Y/N.”

“Don’t talk to me that way. I’m not your property. And I’m sick and tired of being at your beck and call.” You think Jacob‘s newfound freedom rubbed off on you, encouraging you to speak your mind. You couldn’t keep holding in all the qualms you held with him. You couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

You can hear him gasp slightly, as if he’s appalled by your sudden ability to speak up for yourself. But before he can get anything else out, you hang up and set your phone to Do Not Disturb, tossing it haphazardly into your purse.

Your hands are shaking and you feel the dampness on your cheeks. You didn’t deserve to put up with this anymore, you deserved better. You wanted better. Being complacent was no longer sufficient for you. You attempt to make yourself look a bit more presentable, going back into the restaurant where you’re met with a concerned Jacob.

His brows are knitted together, forming an adorable crease in the center of his forehead. You almost reach across the table to smooth it out. The expression doesn’t go away, in fact it stays put as you down the rest of the wine in your glass.

“What happened?”

The server comes back and refills your drink, which was probably not a very good idea, but you digress. You shake your head, nearly finishing what had just been poured for you. The influx of alcohol in your system makes your head feel a little fuzzy, but it feels so much better than the dull ache from earlier.

“Eunho and I just had a fight. I’m so done, Jacob. I can't do this anymore.” You run a hand through your hair, resting your elbows on the table and cradling your head in your hands.

His lips curl downward. He pulls out a few bills from his wallet, tucking them under his plate before he stands, outstretching his hand to you. “C’mon, let’s go.”

You’re puzzled by his actions, but don’t question him, lacing your fingers together and following him to his car. He plays music from your favorite artists and drives to nowhere in particular, doing his best to get the situation off your mind. You nearly burst into tears again, because only Jacob could be this kind to you. Only Jacob could take care of you this well.

Only Jacob would have a playlist of all your favorite music prepared on his phone specifically for the times you rode in his car. Only Jacob would tell you he’d just broken up with his girlfriend and comfort you rather than seek comfort for himself. Only Jacob could know exactly what you wanted and needed, more than you knew yourself.

And you feel stupid. Stupid for not seeing it sooner, for not realizing sooner. For not realizing that it should’ve been Jacob all along. That it should’ve been Jacob who you’d given the key for your heart to. It should’ve been Jacob who laid in bed next to your every night, arms wrapped around your waist and breathing into the crook of your neck as you slept.

Because he’s always been this way. He’s always put you first, doted on your every need. Before either of you got into relationships, when it was just the two of you, he treated you as his number one. He did everything right. He held open doors for you. He walked on the side of the sidewalk closest to the street. He held your hand so you wouldn’t get lost in crowds. He learned what your favorite dishes were and brought them to you whenever you were stressed and needed comfort. He bought you flowers every time you hung out and sometimes even just because he felt like it.

Then you had to go and get a fucking boyfriend. And look where that got you.

“Hey, hey,” Jacob’s voice cuts through your inner monologue, causing you to blink and snap back into reality. “Why are you crying, sweetheart?”

Just great. You didn’t even know you were fucking crying. Or that Jacob pulled the car over. You were parked in the furthest, emptiest corner of a parking lot, the closest light post meters away.

“I… don’t know,” you answer, because truthfully, you don’t. “I just feel like an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot, Y/N. You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever known. How could you ever think that about yourself?” He leans over the center console to swipe away some of your tears with his thumb.

“It should’ve been you all along, Cobie. I should’ve picked you.” You blurt, again, because you’re an idiot. You never know when to open your mouth and apparently you never know when to shut it either.

It’s silent for a few moments. You can hear your heart in your ears, pounding along with your pulse. You might’ve just royally screwed up your friendship too. But then you hear Jacob’s seat belt unbuckling and his upper half is folded over the center console completely, his lips finding yours.

It’s a sweet kiss, desperate in a way that you’ve never known Jacob to be, but you aren’t complaining. You free yourself from your own seat belt, hand coming up to cup the side of his face. Of all outcomes you could’ve predicted for tonight, this was nowhere near that list. Your mouths move together in perfect synchrony, like they were meant to do this. It was as if you and Jacob had kissed a hundred times in the past and you were moving on pure instinct.

When you part to gasp for air, he grasps your hips roughly, pulling you into his lap. Part of you is surprised you didn’t honk the horn with your ass, too preoccupied placing your lips on his again as he slides the seat all the way back. He bites and sucks on your bottom lip, tongue tangling with yours so messily you can feel the drool slipping down the side of your chin.

He grinds into you, fingers digging into your waist and bunching up your sundress. He trails his lips to your ear, nibbling the lobe as he whispers, “I could treat you so much better, baby. Let me treat you better.”

You can’t halt the whine that pushes past your throat, knee hiking up slightly to feel how hard he is, pressed into the heat of your cunt only covered by the thin material of your panties. You wanted that so badly. You wanted Jacob to treat you like his pretty little princess, to spoil you and shower you with his love and affection.

“Your dress got a little dirty, how about we take it off?” He suggests, though the sight of you in the flowy piece of cloth is enough to have him orgasming on the spot. Instead of removing it completely, you help him pull the straps off your shoulders, exposing your bare chest. His thumb circles your sensitive nipples, tweaking them until you’re shivering and squirming above him.

“Need you so bad, Cobie,” you whimper in the space between his collarbone and his neck. “Want you in me already, I can’t wait.”

“So impatient,” he chuckles, the sound rumbling underneath you as you claw at his pants to free him from its confines. “You want me to fuck you? Want me to mark you up as mine so you know just how much better I am? I’ll ruin you for anyone else, baby. You won’t want anyone but me after this.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You raise an eyebrow, hovering your mouth over his and evening your voice as best you can. Jacob pokes his cheek with his tongue, his grip on your waist tightening. You groan at how attractive it is, rolling your hips experimentally in hopes it spurs him to get on with it.

“You’re so fucking lucky I want you just as much, sweetheart,” he speaks against your lips, aiding you in your nth attempt to push down his pants. “But just so you know, I’m not holding myself back.”

“Wouldn’t dream of anything else.” You reach down to pull your underwear to the side.

Jacob doesn’t even let you admire his cock before he’s thrusting up into you, lost in the pleasure as soon as it’s begun. You moan loudly, the noise reverberating around the car while he sheaths himself completely, your pelvises kissing like your mouths. He momentarily allows you to adjust to him, and then he’s driving in and out of your pussy as if it was a knife and butter.

Your cunt is so warm and wet, sucking him in so deliciously it clouds his judgment. His hold on your waist is bruising and he pounds into you unforgivingly, like he’s been waiting for this for years upon years. “Fuck, you feel so good around me.”

“Mmmmm,” you gasp when one of his hands tugs at your hair, baring your neck and chest to him. “Jacob, you’re so— God— you’re so deep.”

He starts to leave marks along the skin that shows, ensuring he stakes his claim in case your fuckass ex(?) tries to get you back. Jacob was far from insecure, he knew from the moment you followed him to his car that you’d choose him. But he wanted you to know he was serious, and if acting like your body was a canvas he was painting and copyrighting was the only way to prove that, then so be it.

“Yeah?” he separates himself from your jugular with a pop, rubbing his nose against your own. “You close yet?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, nails dragging under his shirt and scratching up his abdomen. “Need you to fuck me harder.”

“Your wish is my command,” his hands come under your thighs, bending his knees so he can plunge into you faster and deeper, the tip of his cock consistently nudging that sensitive spot inside of you.

He punctuates each thrust with a kiss to your lips, swallowing your pretty sounds. You feel the band in your stomach grow thinner and thinner, before it eventually just snaps. Your release coats Jacob’s dick, making it easier for him to slide in and out as he inches towards his own orgasm. You don’t have the energy to move, your body spasming with overstimulation.

Jacob’s middle finger circles your clit, causing your walls to clench around him and finally trigger his ejaculation, the sensation provoking another one out of you. You wail as you cream on his cock, feeling your sticky cum trickling down your thighs. He slowly continues his thrusts until he’s brought you back down from your high, both of you wincing when he pulls out fully.

You both notice how fogged up the windows of his car are, eyes meeting instantaneously and the two of you bursting out into laughter, still half naked. He brushes your hair out of your face with a dreamy sigh. “I meant what I said, by the way.”

“Hmm?” Your mouth forms a confused pout.

“About treating you better,” he clarifies. “You deserve the world, my Y/N. I wanna be the one to give it to you.”

You sniffle, full on ugly crying when the weight of his words sink in. Jacob was all you ever needed and more. How could you say no?

“You already have.” You say, no louder than a whisper, as if someone else could hear your confessions. He brings you closer to him, resting his chin on top of your head.

“Good,” he kisses your forehead. “‘Cause I don’t plan on letting go.”

#the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz smut #the boyz jacob #tbz jacob #jacob bae x reader #jacob bae smut #jacob x reader #jacob smut #juyeonszn #juyeonszn.100🪩

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honeyedmiller · 3 months

Text

Law of Attraction — Chapter Five: Saudade

series masterlist | previous chapter | epilogue

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: professor!joel, professor x student relations, plus size!reader, unresolved feelings at first, angst, lots of emotions, joel is an idiot (in love), flashbacks of sex, shower head masturbation, light alcohol consumption, brief pov swapping, teensy bit of fluff, there won’t be a super happy ending quite yet. no use of y/n.

word count: 4.2k

chapter synopsis: moving on has proven to be a lot harder than you’d both anticipated. when more feelings bubble to the surface, it may be too late to act upon them.

divider by @saradika-graphics

sau·da·de – /souˈdädə/ (noun): an emotional state of melancholic or profoundly nostalgic longing for a beloved yet absent something or someone.

Adrienne had come home that night to find you agonizingly sobbing on your bedroom floor. The fight that ended things with Joel felt like it’d ripped your heart out as a whole, sewing your ribcage airtight so you could barely fucking breathe.

She sat on the floor and consoled you, shushing you as you cried into her neck. You felt like a fucking wreck, stuck in the abyss of darkness that had consumed you wholly after he walked out of the front door.

After your cries dwindled down into sporadic hiccups, you finally came clean to her about everything: how you’d been feeling the past month and a half, what Tess had told you, and how your breakdown was a result of holding back your true feelings for far too long.

Adrienne couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She wasn’t mad at you in any sense of the matter, and she didn’t parade around with a sickeningly mockful ‘I told you so.’ She was infuriated with Joel.

Because, for fuck’s sake, how could he have suggested this whole ordeal with you knowing he didn’t have his shit resolved yet? If he still had uncharted feelings about the situation with his goddamn ex, he should’ve never touched you in the first place.

A woman, so eager and bright and full of free spirit, had been dwindled down to be filled with hopeless despair—light dulled and spirit trapped in the confines of what could’ve been.

It’d been a month since that very day, and you were slowly starting to feel like yourself again.

Tess kept her end of her promise, putting in a good word with the Los Angeles police department as they were in need of a forensic technician. The head of the forensics team had interviewed you over the phone for half an hour before deciding she wanted to meet you in person and talk about what the job would entail in greater detail. She said, in her own words, she needed some ‘fresh minds on her team.’

You were excited to go back home to visit your folks in the midst of this trip. You needed to create new memories, good memories this trip, because last time you were on the west coast you were getting relentlessly fucked by your former professor, accepting his offer to be friends with benefits.

You swore to yourself you’d never put yourself in such a situation ever again.

It humiliated you, made you feel foolish, hurt you—the list goes on—but it also taught you. It taught you patience, it taught you resilience, and it taught you the hardships of two emotionally damaged people trying to mold into one.

You’ll admit, you did miss Joel. Not in the same way you did when it hurt at first, but more so in a way that made you miss the familiarity that floated in the air every time you two were around each other. When you weren’t wracking your brain about your feelings for him, being around him was just… easy.

He was obviously super intelligible, always had something insightful to say, he was funny, and he actually listened to you in the aspect of daily life. He made you feel seen, which is something you don’t get often with people.

When your feelings for him weren’t harboring into the depths of your heart, a swirl of anticipation always clutched at you to be around him. You really did miss him.

You also missed the sex.

The price that it came with was hefty, but god—you missed the scrape of his facial hair against your trembling thighs, the thickness of his fingers scissoring in and out of you while praising how ‘fuckin’ perfect your pussy is’, his hot tongue swirling against your aching core with a shit-eating grin plastered to his lips as you came undone, his sweet-talking mouth that praised every single inch of your body, and his cock that seemed to connect you two and made it so goddamn difficult to tell where he ended and you began.

A knock on your bedroom door jostles you from your thoughts, and you turn to see Adrienne standing there with a smile on her face.

“You ready for tomorrow?” She asks, stepping into your room. She sits down next to your open luggage, reaching down to toy with the frayed knee on one of your packed jeans.

“I am. I’m excited. I always love going back home.”

And it was true. Texas had grown on you, but California would forever be your home. You missed the sunny weather and the near-constant blue skies.

“So,” She starts, laying both of her hands in her lap. “If you do get the offer, which I’m sure you will, I could find a job out there too. We could move together, you know, so you wouldn’t have to move back in with your parents.” She shrugs, as if what she proposed was the most nonchalant thing ever.

“Adri, are you serious?”

She smiles and nods her head. “Yeah, I mean, I’ve lived in Texas my whole life. You know how bad I’ve wanted to get out for some time now, so I figured this would be the perfect opportunity.”

You shoved your suitcase further up the bed so you could sit next to her, wrapping your arms around her.

“I’d love it if we moved together, Adri. Truth be told I really wasn’t sure how I was going to navigate life without you being in a different state. Probably would’ve gone fucking insane.”

You both laugh as she reciprocates the affection.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily, babe.” And for that, you were so grateful to have someone like her in your corner. Sometimes it felt like it was you and her against the world.

“Did you finish grading yet?” Tess asks Joel, crossing one leg over the other as she leans back in her chair. The restaurant they were in was relatively quiet, considering it was only the afternoon.

“I did. Wasn’t too bad.” Joel shrugged, cutting into his steak.

“Mm. That’s good. So what do you plan on doing now that you’re a free man for two and a half months?”

Joel’s heart sinks. He should be enjoying his vacation wrapped up in you, but because his pride got in the way, he lost you to something that meant a lot to him. He didn’t deserve your forgiveness, but he was hoping he’d be able to gain it someday.

“Nothin’.” He’s curt with his answer, and Tess knows him all too well.

“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”

”Why does it matter, Tess?” Joel’s exasperated at this point, really not in the mood to hear I told you so from his best friend. He knows he fucked up. He reminds himself that every single day when he goes to text you, fingers hovering over the keyboard because he doesn’t know the right thing to say. I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. I want you.

But it’s too late.

“Joel,” Tess sighs, shaking her head. “I’m not gonna say what you think I’m gonna say, but I do have one question.”

Joel looks up at her, her green eyes sincere.

“What is it?”

“Why didn’t you fight harder for her?”

Joel wasn’t expecting that. That question was like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of his lungs. Because, honestly, why didn’t he?

He shrugged at her.

He thinks it’d be easier to lie and say it was the age difference and you used to be his student and it’d be this whole weird thing, but Tess would see right through him. He knows exactly why, though.

He was terrified.

Terrified of getting too attached, terrified of getting hurt, terrified of admitting he was falling in love with you.

You just graduated. You’re just starting your life as a free woman. He didn’t want to be the one to hold you back.

He knows you can find someone so much better than him. Someone closer in age, someone that won’t dick you over or spring an awful proposal onto you like he did. Someone who could actually give you what you deserved, which was the whole goddamn world.

But what he didn’t know was that he had ruined every single man for you, ever. Nobody could compare to him.

There’s no way he’d ever get to know that though, because he fucking had you. And then he lost you.

The June sun was hot on your back as you unloaded your luggage from the back of your Uber. You had taken an early flight, so it was only around noon when you got to your parents’ house. You unlocked the front door and slipped off your sandals, wheeling your luggage into the living room, only to be met with silence.

“Mom? Dad?” You called out. More silence. You furrowed your brows and walked further into the house and into the kitchen, stopping when you saw a neon post-it slapped onto the middle of your fridge.

‘Hey sweetie, you’ll probably arrive home around noon, which means dad is still at work and I’ll be running some errands. Picking up some stuff from the grocery store, too. Making chicken parm tonight. Can’t wait to see you!

Love mom.’

You smile at her note before rolling your suitcase to your old room, deciding to shower first and then settle in.

Exhaustion consumes your body as the inviting droplets of water roll down your skin, warm water relaxing your aching muscles. You were nervous about meeting the head of forensics in two days. This could be a life-altering career for you, and you wanted nothing more.

Except for Joel, maybe, the depths of your mind sneer at you. You roll your eyes at yourself, ignoring that part of you that fucking aches for him on a near-constant basis. You failed, though. The ache was so bad that it had manifested itself into a pulsating, needy pang between your legs. You sighed as you snatched the shower head from its holder and lowered it between your flesh, warm water gliding over your throbbing cunt with the right amount of pressure.

God, missing him was already becoming too much.

You didn’t intend to fall asleep after your shower, but your bed was so comfy and you wanted to escape your overactive mind for a bit—so you slipped into a comfortable slumber. Your mom knocked on your door to wake you up, letting you know that dinner was almost done.

Dinner was full of catching up with your parents. It was nice to spend some time with them again. You hadn’t seen them since you graduated, and before that, Christmas break. It was harder to catch flights back to California just for the hell of it when you were in school, and now, you’re looking at the prospect of being a full-fledged Californian once more.

You were helping your mom clean up the kitchen, working off your post-meal coma that was surging over your body.

“Hey honey, are you okay?” Your mom asks as you dry the last of the dishes. You look at her perplexedly, not expecting that question at all.

“What do you mean?” You ask, putting away the dried dish.

“It’s just,” She starts, pursing her lips and sighing. “I don’t know, you seem different? I guess? It’s like you’re you but the real you isn’t really… there. Saw it at graduation too. The sadness in your eyes…” She trails off, looking at you with a bit of unease.

You didn’t think it’d be that noticeable, but things scarcely get past your mother.

You were almost thirty years old. Surely she wouldn’t be pissed at you for sleeping with your former professor, now, would she?

“I’ll tell you about it,” You say, eyes landing on a bottle of Pinot Grigio. “We might need this, though.” You snatch the bottle off the counter and grab two wine glasses, leading her out to the padded lounge chairs on the back patio.

She pours two hefty glasses, because the look on your face tells her everything she needs to know: it’s going to be a hell of a story.

And so you proceeded to tell her everything, aside from where you two had sex. She definitely didn’t need to know about you getting fucked by him in his office, bent over his desk as he—

“Wow. That’s… a lot.” She says, drinking in all of the information you threw her way.

“You’re not upset with me?” You ask, hiding a wobbling bottom lip behind your glass of wine. The lump in your throat made it harder for you to swallow the smooth drink.

“Honey, you’re a grown woman. You know what’s right from wrong, albeit I think you should’ve at least waited until after you graduated, as far as I’m concerned, it was two adults consenting to participate in adult activities.” She shrugs, and you sigh in relief.

“I promise I wasn’t sleeping with him for my grades or anything. I was already one of his top students before it all began.” You huff a laugh, and your mom shakes her head.

“That thought didn’t cross my mind once, sweetheart. It’s not you. It’s not your character,” She sips her wine with a meek hum, brows pinching together. “I don’t like what he did to you, though.” She shakes her head, looking at you.

“I agreed to it, though. Part of it is my fault for not telling him how I felt. I knew what I felt for him and I hadn’t voiced it once to him, so he was unaware.”

And you wondered now if things would’ve been different had you told him how you really felt.

His words, seared into your brain at this point, always repeated themselves: ‘It’s not my fault I didn’t live up to the expectations of myself that you created in your head.’

Maybe you wouldn’t have made those expectations up if you just fucking told him.

“He still shouldn’t have used you as a pawn to distract himself from his unresolved feelings about the thing with his ex.” She says, and you know she’s right. Adrienne said something similar to you not even three weeks ago.

“Yeah.” Was all you could muster up, swirling your wine around your glass.

“Do you think you have it in your heart to ever forgive him?” She asks, and your stomach twists into a knot. You’d never even thought about forgiving him. It was still too fresh of an open wound, one you were desperately trying to heal and close.

“Maybe someday.” It was an honest answer.

And that’s all you could really give her.

The next day, your mom had graciously decided to take you out for a little distraction from life as you knew it.

She took you for a drive down PCH in your dad’s beloved cherry red ‘65 Ford Mustang convertible, which is exactly what you needed. The sun was beaming brightly down on you both, the top down allowing the hot wind to wildly whip at your face. You leaned your crossed arms on top of the passenger door, laying your head down as you closed your eyes to enjoy the moment of serenity.

You missed home so much. You didn’t even want to go back to Texas, but you’d know by the end of the week if you were coming back here permanently or not. You figured you’d need to construct a plan B just in case this job didn’t end up working out, but you’d figure that out soon.

Right now, you just wanted to enjoy the summer sun and the time with your mom and the freeness you felt now that your mom knew everything.

The day went by quickly much to your disadvantage. You were nervous for what tomorrow would bring, hoping to god that you were impressive enough for them to at least consider you to be a part of the forensics team.

And you went into the huge facility the next day with a smile plastered on your face, showing you were genuinely happy to be there and how much you’d love the job. You hoped you weren’t being overeager.

The head of the forensics team, Margot, seemed to take a liking to you. She asked how you knew Tess, and you told her you met at the criminal justice expo a couple of months back.

It wasn’t a lie, but you didn’t want Joel to be a part of the conversation whatsoever, so you naturally skipped over the part that you met her through him.

Margot gave you a run-down of how things worked in that particular department, showing you the ins and outs of the place. She showed you all of the equipment and how it worked; what different positions in the job entailed; and what she was expecting of you, were you to be hired.

The prospect of you working on the forensics team for the LAPD had your stomach doing somersaults, and you had to constantly remind yourself that it wasn’t reality for you yet. You couldn’t get too ahead of yourself.

You thanked Margot for her time as she promised she’d keep in touch and let you know about the position by the end of the week at latest.

You got home that evening and Adrienne FaceTimed you right away. You felt like it went well, though you couldn’t be one hundred percent sure. Margot was a sweet woman, but her mannerisms gave very little away. All you could do at this point was just hope for the best.

That’s all you seemed you could really do right now in life, anyway.

Just hope for the best.

You got the job.

The call came in around ten in the morning on your way to the airport to fly back to Austin. You couldn’t believe it.

It’s like everything in your life was slowly clicking back into place, one by one.

You’d worked so hard in school, but you genuinely couldn’t have done this without Tess. You had to call and let her know.

You scrolled through your contacts and clicked her name, and within three rings she answered.

“Hello?”

”Hey, Tess. I have some great news.” Your voice is giddy and you couldn’t contain your excitement.

“I think I might know what it is.” She teased, prompting you to tell her.

“I got the job!”

“I knew you would, sweetheart, congratulations. We should get a drink to celebrate. Make it a whole thing.” Her voice rings with sincerity, and you can’t seem to wipe the smile from your face.

“Love to. I don’t start until late August, so I have a month and a half to pack and move.”

“That’s great! If you need help, Misty and I wouldn’t mind lending a hand.”

“Thanks Tess. And thank you so much for putting in a word for me. I wouldn’t have gotten this job without you.”

“You did all of the hard work. I was just a referencer.” She laughs, and you can’t help but beam.

“Hey I gotta go, my flight is being called to board. But I’ll see you real soon.” You say, and hear her chuckle on the other end of the line.

“See you soon, sweetheart.”

A month and a half passed by in the blink of an eye. You and Adrienne were leaving tomorrow to head for California with all your stuff in tow.

It felt so surreal, leaving Texas behind to start something new for yourself—something you worked so hard for. Adrienne couldn’t have been more supportive of you starting anew, which is why she insisted you both invite your friends to a local bar as a last hoorah before you took off in the morning.

You were all smiles tonight, taking a couple of shots with friends before settling on a Cosmo to babysit for awhile.

You even invited Tess and Misty, wanting to say ‘see you later’ instead of ‘goodbye’, because you ultimately knew you’d be seeing them again.

And, deep down, a part of you wishes you could physically say goodbye to Joel. Thank him for everything he’s taught you—inside and outside of the classroom—and put your past with him completely behind you.

You didn’t want to go to California with any loose ends, because again, the whole purpose was to start fresh.

You didn’t dwell on it too much. You were there to celebrate with your friends and have a good time… which you were, until the man that had been lingering in the back of your mind for two and a half months unexpectedly made an appearance.

You were talking with Adrienne, Tess and Misty before all three of them went silent, eyes averting behind you. You looked at them with confusion before turning around, heart dropping to your stomach.

Joel.

“What’s he doing here?” Panic seized your body, not expecting to see him at all. The part of you that wanted to say goodbye was relieved to see him, and the other part of you—the part that craved him for so long, wishing everything was different—was mortified.

“I actually invited him.” Adrienne said, sympathy in her eyes as you furrowed your brows.

“What—?”

“Just- just hear him out, okay?” She asks, and you place your watered-down Cosmo on the sticky bar top, giving her an unsure look before turning around to face him. He didn’t look much different, but his eyes were tired.

A pang of hurt seized your chest, and you swallowed harshly before making your way to him.

“Joel.” You sound breathless. Your eyes must’ve been wide and strewn with confusion.

He offers a small, lopsided smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Hey. Can we talk?” He asks, voice sounding a bit unsure, a trait that’s very unlike Joel.

You nod, and he jerks his head toward the bar door to walk outside. Your shoes scuff over the pavement, humid summer night air sticking tackily to your body. The sounds of Life in the Fast Lane by the Eagles fades into the background with all of the chatty patrons of the bar, leaving the distant call of the cicadas to become the forefront of noise in the night.

“So,” You begin, not exactly sure what he wants to talk about.

“Couple of things. First and foremost, I wanna apologize to you, darlin.’ For every single thing that’s happened. You were a student of mine and I shouldn’t have—” He swallows, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have done anything with you then. ‘N I most certainly shouldn’t’ve offered that stupid fuckin’ friends with benefits bullshit to you.” His eyes are trained on his worn out boots, hands knotting behind his back.

“Joel—”

“Darlin’, you deserved so much better. I want you to know that I was never ashamed to be with you. You’re gorgeous, your body is beautiful, you’re so brilliant. Everythin’ about you is a dream. I was selfish and I was terrified of gettin’ hurt again. I spent so long building up walls to protect myself ‘n my peace, and then you came into my life chippin’ away at it so easily. I didn’t know what to do, so I panicked. Kept pullin’ you in and pushin’ you away so I wouldn’t be the one that ended up hurt. But I hurt you in the end and I can’t tell you how fuckin’ sorry I am.”

His dark gaze is locked on you then, and you feel the backs of your eyes burning, tears threatening to spill to the forefront. You didn’t know what to say. What could you say? It’s not every day you get a heartfelt apology from a man who really did a fucking number on you.

“What’s the second thing?” Your voice is meek, crossing your arms over your chest. He’s hesitant at first, but he sighs as he takes a small step toward you.

“I really fuckin’ miss you.” His eyes were full of sadness, regret, anguish. All telltale to you that he was being completely sincere.

You didn’t want to give in. You didn’t want it to be that easy, answering his beck and call. But it was Joel— the man who made you feel things nobody else has, the man who frustrated you and liberated you simultaneously, the man who fucking ruined every single man for you ever again.

You were a strong woman. You knew that. He knew that. But Joel had chipped away at your walls, too.

Eye for an eye.

“I miss you too,” You whisper, tears on your waterline now. “But I don’t want to get hurt again.”

“Sweetheart,” Joel coos, reaching out for you. It took you a second, but you willingly let yourself succumb to the warm, familiar embrace of the man that you so desperately, secretly longed for all this time. “I promise you I won’t hurt you again. Cross my heart ‘n hope to die.” Joel’s voice holds so much promise.

Everything felt okay again. It felt right as you buried your face into his neck, clutching fistfuls of the soft material of his shirt.

And then it hit you—

“Joel,” You gasp, sad tears streaming down your face endlessly, body wracked with broken sobs. “I’m moving to LA. I leave for California tomorrow.”

Joel’s face falters, tears in his eyes as he pulls you into him tighter, kissing your temple as you both stand in the parking lot, sobs joining the song of cicadas.

What you’d lost once was in your grip again, only for it to slip through your fingers like sand—twelve hundred miles soon to be separating what could’ve been.

tags: @party-hearses ; @ilovepedro ; @punkshort ; @nostalxgic ; @tinygarbage ; @harriedandharassed ; @pamasaur ; @bastardmandennis ; @cool-iguana ; @untamedheart81

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