#I don’t want to make drinks and talk to people | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

megamindsecretlair · 1 day ago

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Give Me Everything

Pairing: Husband!Terry Richmond x Wife!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FLUFF, cursing, teasing, PIV, oral (male receiving), fingering (fem receiving), dirty talk, use of the n-word, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: Thanksgiving Day was always a hustle and bustle of activity and noise, two things you don’t usually like even coming from a big family. While you flitted around checking in on everyone, you couldn’t help feeling a little selfish. After sending Terry a sexy picture while he was seated next to your father, you sneak off to your childhood bedroom to fulfill a little fantasy of yours.

Word Count: 5,518k

AO3 Link

A/N: Ya'll thought I was gonna let the holiday pass without a little treat? I lost the drabble challenge, but well, can't fight my brain no matter how hard I try. Happy Thanksgiving, happy bank holiday, or however you celebrate, many love and blessings to the greatest group of people ever. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

The rich smells of Thanksgiving food permeated the air and tickled your nostrils. You inhaled deeply as you flitted around the kitchen helping out the Aunties. No one messed with the Aunties on Thanksgiving.

You didn’t know how they managed to stay organized among the chaos. Between one of their husbands who constantly entered the kitchen asking when the food would be done and the little kids running throughout the house, it was a miracle they weren’t yelling and cursing up a storm.

“Fix me my medicine, baby,” Auntie Gee told you.

“Yes, ma’am,” you said. You pivoted away from helping Auntie Aileen with the yams and went over to the small pantry, grabbing supplies. You made a quick and dirty margarita for Auntie Gee and placed it in a glass. You already started in on another one because in one, two, three…

“I want one!” Auntie Mimi called out. You smiled to yourself, knowing your Aunties a little too well. Maybe you spent too much time around them all. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your big family was a handful at times. But at the end of the day, it was nothing but good vibes and great conversation. The Aunties were currently going on about their favorite man, Denzel Washington.

“That man been fine his whole goddamn life!” Auntie Hope called from the round kitchen table. She cleaned the greens, taking the stems off and putting them into a red bowl, to be soaked in the kitchen sink a little later. Right now, your mom was at the farmhouse sink peeling potatoes.

“Language, young lady!” Your grandmother, Grammy Alice, called out from the stove. She babysat the white sauce for the mac and cheese, carefully adding cheese and stirring to get the mixture right.

“Sorry, momma,” Auntie Hope said. She grinned at you and winked.

You giggled and handed Auntie Mimi her drink. “Thank you baby. You better get outta here before they snatch you to do something else,” she whispered.

And that’s why she was lowkey your favorite Auntie. You hugged and thanked her and then quietly slipped out while the Aunties discussed Denzel’s career. They categorically denounced Training Day as his best role. He was just playing a nigga, that’s all. They were stuck between John Q and Glory.

You left the spacious kitchen in a flash, disappearing around the corner and fell into the background as you soaked everything in. The well-decorated living room held most of the men yelling and screaming at the football game playing on the TV. They sat on the blue couch, lounge chairs, and picnic chairs all crowded around the large screen TV. You didn’t know a lick about the game, but by the sound of it, their team was making stupid ass decisions.

Kids played Monopoly on the floor, a mix of little kids and the quieter teens who didn’t want to play with the older, rowdier teens outside. You carefully picked your way through the living room, stopping to place a kiss on your Dad’s withered cheek. You patted his shoulder and he brought his hand up to pat yours.

“Everything alright?” He asked.

“Yes, sir. Food coming along,” you said.

He groaned aloud with the Uncles and boyfriends, everyone throwing up their hands and calling the ref out of his name.

“They need to get that blind mu’fucka off the field!” Uncle Cornell said. He was the only one semi-dressed up in a pair of slacks and a button up shirt. You didn’t know where Auntie Mimi found this character.

Your dad chuckled, returning his attention to you. “Good, good. I’ma just sit here until your mom says it’s time,” your dad said with a secret grin. He made the mistake of entering the kitchen early one year, reaching for a piece of the ham and receiving a swift spoon to the back of the hand from Grammy Alice. He still had a little scar from how hard she popped him.

“Probably for the best,” you said with a giggle.

You left the living room, trekking through the raucous house in search for a little bit of peace. As much as you loved how big your family was, you were decidedly the opposite sometimes. You didn’t draw strength from being around so many people. You craved the quiet and silence that came with being by your lonesome. Probably a consequence of being an only child.

Perhaps that was one of the main things that drew you to your husband, Terry. He was the opposite to your family as well. Calm under pressure, quiet and unassuming despite his size; he really was perfect for you.

You found him on the wide back porch with your cousins, sitting around a table playing dominoes. The teens and older cousins chased each other around the yard playing some game they made up years ago. You never understood the rules and your ass was too tired to continue chasing them around.

Some of the girl cousins watched their younger, baby siblings as they talked about whatever it was kids were into these days. Full. Your life was full to bursting and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You approached Terry and pecked his cheek. “Hey baby,” Terry said, lowering his dominoes to the table. He turned to you and wrapped his arm around your waist from his seated position.

“Just checking on you, is all,” you said. “You need anything?”

Terry used his free hand to lift his half empty beer bottle. “Naw, I should be good for a minute. You need anything?”

“She needs to leave the table so I can get back to whoopin’ yo ass, Marine boy!” Your cousin, Emery, yelled as he slammed down a domino. “Go on and put that thirty-five down for your boy!” He snickered as the game keeper, Darell, laughed and marked down Emery’s points.

Terry chuckled and shook his head. He peeked over at the scorecard on the notebook by Darell’s elbow. “Maybe you need to go back to math class. I’m still winning,” Terry said.

A chorus of oooh’s and damn’s and “You gon’ let him talk to you like that, playboy?” rung around the wooden table. Emery waved them all off, a small smile on his face.

“Alright, alright. Game ain’t over. Why don’t you go on? You killing the mood, girl,” Emery said.

“I’m killing the mood? Just like a hatin’ nigga to focus on somebody else while he losing,” you said.

“Damn!” Cousin Craig yelled out, his long skinny face cracking into a harsh, wheezing laugh that only triggered everybody else to start laughing.

You kissed Terry on the cheek once more, admiring the clean beard on his face. He looked good enough to eat himself. He wore a simple powder blue sweater with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of jeans that really showcased his sexy ass. Just looking at him caused your stomach to do little belly flips.

Terry squeezed your side and smirked up at you as if he saw the direction of your nasty thoughts. He winked at you and you bid your farewell to the men and their little game.

The majority of the day passed too quickly as you went from group to group, checking in on everyone. The domino game ended and the cousins joined the Uncles in the living room to check on the remainder of the game.

“Girl, don’t you ever sit down?” Your cousin, Robyn, asked. She was in your age group, relaxing with the other girl cousins who laid across multiple blankets, sipping their drinks of choice, and chilling out.

You chuckled. “Girl no. Between your momma and mine, I keep getting called to do something. And I feel like if I sit down, I’ma pass out,” you said, shaking your head.

Robyn and Ronda were twins of Auntie Aileen’s and they both shivered at the mention of their mother. “Please, don’t summon her,” Ronda said, shaking her head. “That lady trynna get me set up with her co-worker.” She stuck out her tongue and gagged.

“Not toxic enough for you?” Auntie Hope’s daughter, Stacie, asked.

“Hell no! That girl likes…theater,” Ronda said, making the word sound dirty. You laughed with your cousins, shaking your head at her. Ronda had the worst luck with women. Last year, one threatened to throw herself into traffic if Ronda didn’t come outside to talk to her.

You and your cousins merely stared at her through the screen door and dared her to do it. You didn’t really mean it, but the girl was dramatic as hell and too full of herself to actually go through with it.

“Dare I go check in on the Aunties?” You asked.

There was a resounding, “No!”, that seemed to echo even while outside. You laughed with your cousins. You were feeling restless, though. Anxious. You needed something but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

Maybe it was just the holiday. You took after your mother in the sense that you had a strong need to make sure everybody was okay. Everybody had all their toes and fingers accounted for, no bruises, no yelling, or fighting. If everybody else was okay, then all was right in the world with you.

But sometimes…you got a little impish. Like you wanted to cause trouble just to see what would happen. You wanted to disrupt the delicate balance of the house and festivities and do something wicked.

An idea immediately came to mind and you didn’t think twice about it. You said goodbye to your cousins, stepping back into the house to check on your dad. Lately, he had been feeling more winded than usual. More tired. You urged him to go to the doctor, but the relationship between men and hospitals needed to be studied. He avoided it like it was a nail in a coffin.

Terry sat next to your dad, yelling at the TV with him. He brought his beer to his lush lips and took a deep pull. Your core instantly heated looking at your man. There was precious little he did that didn’t absolutely turn you on.

He caught you staring and winked at you. You grinned and took out your phone, snapping a quick picture of him. He tilted his head, giving you a look. You stuck your tongue out at him and then checked the score. You found a free recliner opposite your dad and sat down, finally taking the load off.

While everyone was distracted, you quickly sent Terry a text. He checked his smart watch and then glanced at you, furrowing his eyebrows in an unspoken question. You smiled sweetly at him while he dug out his phone and checked your message.

💬 You sent a photo.

“Can Big Daddy come play?”

Terry immediately placed his phone down on his thigh, turning wide eyes towards you. You rocked in the recliner, grinning at him. You had sent a thirst trap to him, one you snapped in the bathroom earlier in the day. You had meant to show him at a later time, maybe while he was at work and needed a pick me up.

He scooted forward on the couch, leaning his elbows on his knees. He rubbed his beard and tried to suppress a grin, subtly shaking his head at you.

You continued to rock, feeling pleased as punch. You tried to see if he was getting hard but he was bent too much forward. The men groaned at the latest ref’s call and you turned to the TV to see the teams setting up for another play.

You glanced back at Terry who kept his eyes trained on you. When you caught his eye, he narrowed them slightly and then jerked his head towards the stairs. You grinned and got up first, heading up to the second floor that remained off limits to everybody. Less rooms to clean up afterwards.

The great thing about having a big family was that it was easy to disappear with no one the wiser. You headed upstairs to your childhood bedroom, closing the door behind you. The room was just as you left it in your early twenties when you finally moved out. There was still stuffed animals and an overflowing bookshelf in the corner, a wide dresser stretched underneath your TV, and “grown-up” art on the walls. You sometimes missed the B2K and B5 posters had tacked to your wall for years.

Anticipation churned in your stomach as you waited for Terry’s quiet footfalls to follow behind you on the shaggy, brown carpet. A moment later, there was a soft knock and then Terry entered, looking behind the door for you. You ushered him in and then closed and locked the door, wrapping your hands around his neck.

He had to bend down slightly so that it wasn’t incredibly awkward for you and he groaned. “You trynna get me killed?” He demanded, stepping back to look you in the face.

You giggled and clasped your hands behind your back. “Whatever do you mean?” You asked.

Terry smirked and advanced on you, causing you to bite your lip and retreat. He crossed the distance in one second, his long legs carrying him forward. He cupped your neck in both of his warm, strong hands and you moaned, eyes sinking lower now that you were back in his capable hands.

“You think you slick sendin’ that picture while I was right next to your dad?” He asked.

You giggled again. Ugh, you couldn’t help it. He made you feel so feminine and girly whenever he went all big and strong on you. You were working on being more bold, opening your mouth and asking for what you wanted. But sometimes, you got so twisted up with nerves your mouth didn’t work.

“Did you like it?” You asked.

Terry squeezed your neck and you sighed at the pressure. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. “You know I liked it,” he said, glancing down at the front of his pants. You followed his gaze and noticed his dick pressed against the fabric of his jeans. You reached out to rub his bulge.

He lifted an eyebrow at you. “What’s gotten into you?” He asked.

“I can’t just want my man?” You asked. You continued to rub him, watching as his own eyes drooped. His naturally dark eyelashes nearly fanned his high cheekbones.

“You know, there is one fantasy I always wanted to act out,” you said, forcing yourself to say the words. Even after years of marriage, Terry made you feel like a school girl with a crush. Guess you could never really shake that bit of shyness from growing up in a loud household and seeking only peace.

“Is that right,” he murmured.

“Mhmm. I never really got to have boys in my room growing up,” you said. You blinked up at him with a smile hovering over your lips. Terry lightly squeezed your neck, stepping closer, as you continued to rub him through his jeans. His breathing increased, soft pitfalls loud in your ear because he was so close to you.

“Am I the first boy in your room?” He asked.

“Maybe. But don’t get a big head about it,” you said.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. His thumbs rubbed across your pulse points on both sides of your neck, turning you stupid in less than a second. You lost your train of thought as the rough slide of his fingers sent electric zings down to the tips of your toes. Your panties grew damp as you sighed.

You kept waiting for the honeymoon phase to be over, but after a while, you just accepted that you two were just that intense for each other. Growing up, you saw your grandparents, parents, and extended family all find the love of their lives, each carving out a special relationship with their significant others.

But it was Auntie Aileen’s marriage that you admired. Sometimes she and her husband seemed to communicate with just a look. Like they were the only two people in the world and everything else was background noise. You wanted and craved that. And by some miracle, you found that with Mr. Terry Richmond.

“And, there’s a few things that I always wanted to do with a boy in my room if I ever got the chance,” you said. Your hands slipped to his jeans, unbuttoning them and then sliding the zipper down.

“Mm, I think I like where this is going. You know, I had a similar fantasy,” he said. He smirked as you lowered his jeans enough to get to his boxer briefs. His dick was hot to the touch through the fabric, balls heavy, and you slipped your hand beneath the waistband to get to your prize.

“Is that so?” You asked, palming his dick. He hissed and then released the sigh in a shudder. You grinned, feeling like the most powerful person ever. Just you gripping him caused a reaction. It was heady and intoxicating and you would never get sick of it.

“Mhm. See, I always wanted to fuck my wife in her childhood home. Like it was a badge of honor or somethin’,” he said, his voice getting deeper and rougher.

You shivered. Your panties were practically soaked now. Your pussy throbbed at the thought of you both having similar fantasies. You stepped back from his hands around your neck and then dropped down your knees.

Terry’s eyebrows lifted as you grinned at him. You pressed your nose into his crotch and nuzzled. Terry sighed, petting your head as you tugged his briefs down to expose the long, thick length of him.

The tip of his dick swelled, pre-cum already beading. You swiped your tongue out and licked it causing Terry to jerk his hips forward. “As much as I love this, we better hurry before one of the Aunties come looking for you,” he said.

You pouted. He was right. A bunch of girls to choose from to handle anything around the house and somehow it always fell to you.

You sighed and kissed his dick, making it jump. “Don’t worry, buddy, I’ll make it up to you later,” you said.

Terry laughed and pleasure zinged through you. You loved pleasing your man. Whether it was making him laugh, checking in on him, or pleasing him during sex, you loved it when you could just make him feel good.

Terry helped guide his dick into your mouth and you looked up at him while you worked in tandem. He pushed in and you sunk onto his dick, wrapping your lips around him. His hairs tickled your face but you kept your mind focused on making him cum as quickly as possible.

Little did he know, you were in a competition with yourself to make him bust faster and faster. Maybe it was simply the competitive spirit in you. But you swore you’ve come from just a look from him. Turnabout was only fair play.

Light from your window illuminated Terry through the slats of the blinds. He tipped his head back, mouth falling open as you worked him over with your tongue and hands. You gripped his base, squeezing how he liked while you took the rest in your mouth.

“Fuuck, this mouth of yours,” he moaned. Your pussy throbbed harder, growing wet from the sounds of his moans, the look of pleasure on his face. His eyes were closed, hands around the back of your head to push your mouth further down.

You took him in and bobbed your head, really getting into pleasing him. You shifted on your knees and squeezed his dick harder. You moaned around his length, getting lost in the feeling of him throbbing in your mouth. His dick poked your cheek and you teased the tip with your tongue.

“Just like that,” he coached so you did it again. You teased the tip while you sucked him off, loud gawking echoing in your ears.

Saliva slipped from your mouth and drooped down your chin, letting him slip easier in and out. You increased your ministrations, bobbing in a frenzy, watching for any signs of his discomfort.

You saw none of that. Instead, his face was twisted in a sexy mix of pleasure and pain. Soft moans escaped his mouth as you kept going, kept trying to take him deeper, kept trying to swallow him whole.

“Fuckin’ perfect. So fuckin’ perfect with my dick in your mouth,” he cooed.

You moaned, growing unbearably wet at his words. Your jaw started to ache but you ignored it in favor of wanting to get him off. Wanting him to bust in your mouth. You widened your jaw and he sunk in a little deeper.

He groaned and looked down at you. “I’m finna bust,” he whispered.

You grinned around his dick and kept up what you were doing until he gripped your head and spilled down your throat. His moans were their own aphrodisiac, filling you with pride that you got your man off so quickly. You swallowed his cum, something you were still getting used to, and then continued to suck.

Terry huffed, hips jerking forward, as he couldn’t decide between laughing and moaning. He had to gently push at your head to make you stop and he eased his dick out. “You must think you’re cute,” he said.

You pinched your thumb and forefinger together. “A little,” you said.

Terry chuckled, grabbing your hands and helping you stand. He kissed you, gripping your face to his to make you stay. You sighed with a moan, wrapping your arms around him. You made out for a good, long while, soaking up each other’s desperate kisses.

“My turn,” he whispered against your lips.

You only had a brief moment to catch the devious, nearly evil look in his eye as he lifted your plain gray T-shirt over your head. He didn’t take it off, instead he just wanted the collar over your head to expose your black, lacy bra.

He groaned, getting a live view of the sexy picture you sent him earlier. He thumbed your nipples through the bra, making them bead up. He backed you towards your closet door, then dropped his head to suck on your nipples around your bra.

You moaned, gripping the back of his neck. “Oh fuck,” you moaned.

“Shhh. We ain’t trynna get caught ‘cause of your nasty ass,” he said.

“My nasty ass?” You asked with a giggle.

“Your nasty, sexy, delicious ass, yes,” Terry said in between licking and kissing your titties. He used his index finger in between the cups to lower it, exposing your nipples to his gaze. He tucked the cups of your bra beneath your titties and went back to sucking on them.

Each suckle sent a wave of heat through your body and if you weren’t careful, you’d turn into a raging inferno right there in your childhood bedroom. Your moans only increased, getting louder the more he worked that glorious, hot tongue on you.

You wished you had enough time to get your pussy licked on. But you were already pushing the envelope at the moment with so many people just downstairs. Risk of discovery only turned you on more, your pussy clenching around nothing.

Terry slipped his hand down your leggings and past your underwear, finding you soaked. He paused with your nipple in his mouth. “You got this wet from sucking me off?” He asked with his mouth full.

You nodded. “Sure did,” you said.

Terry closed his eyes briefly and sighed. “Good to know,” he murmured.

You didn’t have time to ask him about that because he went back to sucking on your titties while he plunged two fingers into your pussy. You cried out, and he gave you a warning look, before working those long, thick fingers in and out of you.

“I-I didn’t suck you off to get something back,” you whispered. As much as you would like to turn this into a full on session, you were also cognizant of the time. Surely, someone would come looking soon, right? You weren’t exactly subtle heading upstairs.

“Think I’ma leave my favorite girl like this?” He asked. He emphasized his point by plunging his fingers faster, the squelching of your pussy smacked in the room.

“Oh, baby. Oh, Terry, please, I’m gonna…unnf,” you moaned as quietly as you were able.

“That’s okay, baby, you cum on these fingers. You cum all over this fingers f’me,” he murmured, still treating your titties like his favorite meal. He kissed, suckled, and nibbled until you turned into a puddle in his arms.

You were only held up by your hands around his neck and his arms around you. You shook violently, trapping his fingers between your thighs as you rode out your orgasm. Terry still managed to wiggle his fingers inside, rubbing against a sweet, sweet spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids.

Your nails dug into his soft sweater and you shivered on your way down from it. Terry kissed and rubbed his beard against your nipples. Was the man trying to kill you?

He leaned back and smiled at you. “I love the look you give me after you cum,” he said.

You giggled. “What look is that, sir?” You asked.

“Like a well-satiated woman. That’s always my goal,” he said.

You smiled and tilted your hand. “You better be careful talking to me like that. I might think you wanna marry me,” you said.

Terry chuckled. “Oh, I wanna do more than marry you,” he said. He grinned and then gripped the waistband of your leggings and panties. He slid the pants down your legs, his hand traveling behind to rub against your thighs.

You stared at each other, smiles hovering on your faces, as he got them down to your calves. You stepped out of them and Terry wasted no time picking you up. You yelped as he spread you wide open, hooking your thighs around his waist.

Holding his hand under your ass, he used his other one to guide his dick into your slick heat. Your eyes widened at the glorious, burning stretch as you sank down onto him. Your toes curled as he sank in deeper and deeper, your essence making the trip easy.

Terry maneuvered his arms under your knees, so that he could easily lift you up and down on his dick. You gripped onto him for dear life, turning wide, panicked eyes to him. You didn’t think he’d drop you, no, your husband was too strong and capable for that. You just felt like you were about to rip apart at the seams and he was the only thing keeping you together.

“You did say you wanted Big Daddy to come and play, right?” He whispered, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was slow, smooth, and so damn hot you clenched around his dick. He groaned and lifted you off his dick just to sink back in.

“Don’t be using my words against me,” you said.

“Oh word?” He asked with a grin. All the niceties flew out of the window. He started slamming you up and down on his dick, that stretching burn making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, bringing your face closer to his. You wrapped your arms tighter around his neck and held on while he fucked you, stuffed you, and filled you so completely you felt him all over. He was in your heart, your mind, and your soul, writing his name in the threads of your being.

“There’s my good girl. I’m so fuckin’ proud of you,” he said.

You whined against his face, peppering him with sloppy kisses. “I love you,” you said.

“I love you, too. I like when you get bold. Let me know you want this dick,” he said. He rubbed his beard against your cheek and you moaned.

“I want it. Please, I want it,” you whispered.

Knocking drew your attention to your door. You turned wide eyes to Terry who stopped moving. He glanced towards the door.

“Baby, you in there?” Your mom called out. Your heart beat in double time, fear turning your insides icy.

“What should I do?” You whispered. Okay, you lied, getting caught would suck ass right now. There was no way to explain this to your mom. You just didn’t talk about these things with her. As far as she was concerned, you were married but still a virgin.

“If you don’t answer, she gonna send a search party,” he whispered back.

“Yeah, mom?” You called out.

“What are you doing in there? Food’s getting ready to be done so I need your help organizing the line,” she said.

“Yes, mommy, I-I wasn’t feeling well so I came to lay down,” you called out.

“Do you need some medicine? You want me to grab Terry?” She asked.

Terry grinned and started moving you up and down on his dick again. Your jaw dropped, tummy fluctuating between arousal and fear. The normal butterflies in your stomach were having a field day.

You slapped at his shoulder to get him to stop. Or quit fucking around. He couldn’t think this was a great idea, making you take his dick like this while talking to your mom. He grinned innocently, moving his lips down back to your nipples to suck.

You closed your eyes, not knowing where to focus your attention. “Uh-no! I’m okay! I’ll be out soon, promise!” Oh, fuck, he hit a good spot inside you and you clutched him to you.

“Alright, better come on. Your Uncle Remy ‘bout to work my damn nerves,” your mother sniffed as she presumably went on down the hallway.

You gasped and tapped Terry’s shoulder again. Terry answered you with a chuckle and then ended on a moan.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he moaned like it was a glorious revelation. His deep voice skated along your nerve endings, making your tummy flip with desire.

“Terry, please!” You moaned.

“Big Daddy ain’t finished yet,” he said and nuzzled your neck. He placed kisses there while he pumped his arms, moving you up and down on his dick. Your toes curled once more, fast approaching that train to nirvana.

“Oh, please, Big Daddy, I can’t take it,” you cried.

“Sure you can. Cum on this dick so I can fill you up. Let me feel it,” he said into your neck. His groans joined yours, hips jerking into you like he was close as well. “Soak this dick, baby.”

You dropped your head to his shoulder and let the orgasm roll over you like a subway train. You twitched and jerked on him, keening whines and cries filling your room as you lost sound in your right eye.

Or maybe this was that nirvana you were dreaming of. Maybe you slipped into another plane of existence where your souls danced and entwined for eternity. Either way, Terry’s groans brought you back to this side of existence while he stuffed you full of his cum.

The hot, thick spurts throbbed with his dick, sliding against your inner walls. You cried, feeling overwhelmed and thoroughly fucked out. You both panted and huffed as you came down, gathering your senses post-nut.

You smiled dopily at your man and he flashed you a beautiful, wide grin. “There’s that look I love so much,” he said.

“You are dangerous,” you said.

He chuckled. “Saying I’m dangerous while your pussy feel this good squeezing my dick. Just say you don’t wanna let go,” he said.

You squeezed his dick and he laughed, lowering you carefully to the floor. Once he slipped out, his cum came rushing out of you and you closed your eyes to enjoy the sensation. Terry suddenly pushed his cum right back in.

“Terry!” You screamed.

He chuckled. “I can’t help it. I like watching my cum slide out of you,” he said. He planted a kiss on your forehead and you smiled at him while you crossed the room to your dresser. Sometimes, you came to spend the night with your parents to help keep an eye on your dad while your mom got a break.

You grabbed an extra pair of panties and a towel from off of your bed. You cleaned yourself up as best as you were able and then slipped your leggings back on. Thank goodness that a bathroom was directly across from your room. You wouldn’t have to trek far to get fully cleaned up.

Terry stuffed that dangerous monster back into his jeans. You stood, transfixed, watching him slide the denim over his dick and zip up his pants with a little hop.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Big Daddy,” you said, admiring your man.

“Happy Thanksgiving, baby,” he said, pulling you into a hug and one final kiss before leaving your room in a cloud of marital bliss.

The end.

I love you all and I'm so thankful for you. The Secret Terry Richmond Files

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352 notes · View notes

cinnamorollcrybaby · 2 days ago

Text

BEG!

Tags: Satoru x fem!Reader, nocurse!au, misogynistic!gojo, college!au, reader puts him in his place, CRACK do not take this fic seriously, enemies to lovers, suggestive, mdni

Synopsis: Satoru is a stupid alpha bro who’s misogynistic and a play boy in a fraternity at your college. He learns that he can’t walk all over you, and that turns him on.

An: Thank you to everyone who commented on that post and encouraged me to write this! I didn’t think you guys would eat it up like you did 😅 I thought this would be a smutty one-off, but I actually wanted to try and make it into something a little more meaningful; hence why it took a bit longer to post. This is only part one :)

The party. |

His house screamed wealth and overconsumption at every corner. Money was obviously frivolously spent with building and furnishing the Gojo fraternity house. It was sleek, modern, but still a devastating bachelor’s pad.

The Gojo fraternity held parties every day of the weekend, including Sunday. Women got in for free, and men had to pay 5 dollars to get in. Not that Satoru needed the money — he was disgustingly wealthy and a trust fund baby. He merely charged guys money that way no one below his standard could just waltz into his frat house.

Of course, he truly believed every other man in the frat house was below him in some way. He had the full package: smart, funny, rich, handsome, a dick that should be registered as a legal weapon.

It was no wonder that women was never an issue for him. He found flirting with them to be like child’s play. It’s just too fucking easy…. pun intended. He and Suguru once had a challenge to see who could pick up the most women in a single night. Satoru ended his night after fucking 9 women in a single night, and one of those events was actually a foursome between him and three girls at once.

Honestly, he could be so much worse. With a witty personality and a mouth that just won’t shut up, he could talk his way into or out of anything.

It’s a Sunday night, which usually isn’t a big turn out for the party at his house since everyone has class the next morning. Plus, all homework is due at 11:59pm on Sundays. But this turn out was just embarrassing, there was merely 10 people all sat in his living room.

Suguru already had a girl in his lap. Everyone was giggling about something. Satoru felt like he had a chip on his shoulder, he wasn’t the center of attention right now, so he had to fix that.

Plus, there was a pretty girl in the room who he wanted to impress.

Sitting down in front of you, Satoru grins and hands you a cup undoubtedly of liquor. “Here you go, sweetness. Have one more.” He encourages, knowing that it’d be easier to chat you up if you’re a little buzzed.

“Oh, thanks.” You smile politely, and you fake taking a drink out of it. You’ve heard the stories about Satoru, and there’s just no way in hell you’re drinking something he gives you.

“What are you all talking about?” Satoru asks with a casual grin, and he takes a sip of his own drink.

“Oh, just how dumb Andrew Tate is.” A nobody responds from within the group.

“What? He’s not dumb…” Satoru nearly pouts as his favorite starboy was being harshly criticized by his friends.

“Oh god, don’t tell me you like him.” You say with disgusted look on your face as you eye Satoru. Now, you’re definitely not drinking whatever he just gave you.

Satoru’s face twists in defense as you so boldly speak up about his interests. It’s clear to you that he’s offended, but he’s trying not to make a big deal out of it.

“Why? What do you think is so bad about him?” He retorts as he cocks an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat to try to appear as confident and collected as possible.

“How about how he treats women like shit?” You ask, raising your own eyebrow. Satoru has another thing coming if he thinks you’re just going to bow down and not argue with him because he’s rich.

“He doesn’t treat women like shit-? Where are you getting your facts from?” Satoru argues, and his jaw tightens a minuscule amount. It’s bad enough that he’s being challenged, but he’s being challenged by a woman.

“His literal interviews, and the video of him literally beating a woman?”

“That video was just a sex act without any context.” He dismisses, rolling his eyes and not dispelling any claims about the interviews.

“Bitch, is that what sex sounds like to you? Because you must not be doing it right if she sounds like that.”The room erupts into laughter, and Satoru’s face only makes it better. His pale skin is becoming a little flushed. His eyebrow is twitching slightly with anger.

He takes a breath before quickly recovering. He hasn’t forgotten his objective tonight is to sleep with you. His signature smile returns to his face, and he leans in slightly. “I don’t know. Why don’t you come teach me how to do it right?”

“As if. I’d rather grind my pussy against a cheese grater than fuck an Andrew Tate fan.” More laughter breaks out amongst the small group of people.

Satoru’s jaw drops as he looks at you with disbelief. You’d rather… grate your cunt than sleep with him? “Oh yeah? So, what kind of guy piques your interest then, princess? You probably like those woke emasculated guys. Suguru might be more up your alley.”

“Hey, what the fuck?” Suguru laughs, chunking an empty beer can at Satoru’s head. The girl in Suguru’s lap continues to mindlessly giggle and play with his hair.

“No, I like men who are calm and capable. Maybe a guy who can lead but also knows when to take the backseat.” You explain, eyes wandering over Satoru’s stature. “I like them funny and kind.”

“See? I’m just what you need, princess. I can do all those things and so much more.”

“Yeah? You’re going to take the backseat sometimes?” You challenge with a knowing smile on your face. You already know what type of guy Satoru is based off of this sole interaction — plus all of the horror stories of how he’s a modern-day Casanova.

“Princess, the only time you’ll need me to take a backseat is when you’re riding that pretty pussy against my face.” His cerulean eyes gleam against the LEDs in the room. He’s fully confident that will win you over.

Your face stays completely flat. You don’t even crack a small pity smile for him. “Oh sorry, was this meant to be the part where you’re funny?”

Satoru looks at you, and you see a small twitch in his eye. He’s never had someone match his wit or his sass before. You were the perfect challenge for him — his perfect match up.

He tips his red solo cup up until his finishes the rest of his drink. Fuck sleeping with you. He wants to make you beg for him to fuck you while he just laughs in disinterest. You’re his mission now.

“You’re cute, princess.” He finally comments before getting comfortable in his chair again. “You don’t have to act like you don’t want me. ‘s okay. No one here will blame you.”

Your arms cross over your chest, and your lips curl into a frown. As much as you want to pretend to be unbothered, your face can help but show the irritation you feel from him. He’s unwavering, thinking that he will just argue and flirt his way to winning you over.

He needs to be humbled real quick, and you’ve got nothing else better to do.

“Oh really? Thank god. I’ve been dying to get on my knees and suck the most mediocre dick of my life.”

“You have the wrong guy, sweetness. I’m anything but mediocre.” He retorts without missing a beat.

By this time, most of everyone has stopped paying attention to you two — used to Satoru’s antics by now. This is just another Sunday night for him — chasing pussy as per usual.

“Yeah? Any guy who constantly boasts about how good they are in bed usually isn’t good at all.” You respond with a small eye roll.

Satoru’s strong arms cross over his chest. He’s wearing a simple white shirt with some black pants. It’s overwhelming plain, but it compliments him so well since his appearance is striking enough as it is. “I never boasted, princess. I simply stated that I wasn’t mediocre.”

You let out a small scoff and shake your head. It was honestly arguing with a brick wall. “Semantics. Either way, I don’t want to fuck you.” You dump your liquor out into a potted plant that’s next to the couch.

Wondering why you even decided to come to this stupid party, you stand up, and Satoru follows suit. “Hey now, darling. Come on. Don’t leave now. The night’s still young.” He tries to smooth things over as he takes puts his hands up in surrender. “I promise I won’t call out the obvious sexual tension between us for the rest of the night.”

“I have more sexual tension with your fake houseplant that I dumped my liquor into.” You deadpan, gathering your things as you decide that a cozy night in would be better than this mess.

Walking outside the house after everyone wishes you goodbye, you let out an audible sigh as you hear the door open and shut once more behind you. You spin on your heel to find Satoru jogging up behind you.

“Did I ruin your mood that much?” He asks with a small smile, shoving his hands into his pockets as he falls in step beside you.

“Well, following me home is certainly not giving you any bonus points.” You retort, tugging your jacket a little bit closer to your body. “Besides, that’s not really my scene.”

Satoru glances over at you as the two of you walk. He finds himself hypnotized in the way your skin glows in the moonlight. He would be lying if he tried to convince himself that you weren’t pretty because you are. Gorgeous — in fact.

“Really?” His voice is a shade softer now that he doesn’t have everyone’s eyes on him. “You seemed like a natural in there.”

You shrug your shoulders, not offering up any more information about yourself to him. He’s just another misguided frat boy with no intentions to change who’s looking to hit.

Satoru hates silence almost as much as he hates not being the center of attention. He hates how you’re not giving in even the slightest for him

“We should go out to dinner together sometime. I think you’d be surprised on how well I can fit in to any scene.” He offers, not quite giving up on hope just yet. He’s determined to get you in his bed, genuinely deluding himself that it would be a favor to you and him.

“No thanks.” Your voice is blunt as you step toward the entrance of a girls’ dormitories. Satoru’s technically not allowed inside at this late of an hour, but he’d be amused to see who would try and stop him. His family is the top donor of the university. He practically owns this place.

He stands there baffled for a moment as you turn down his date invitation. Rejecting his sexual advances is one thing, but you won’t even give him the time of day.

“So, when can I see you?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed and lips curled into a small pout.

“You’ll unfortunately probably see me in class.” You respond, letting the door close behind you and checking to make sure it locked. Breathing a sigh of relief, you trudge your way up the steps to finally get away from that leech of a man.

Satoru stays at the door for a moment, contemplating following you inside — not for any nefarious reason. He just truly believes that you’d like him if you gave him the time of day. One of his many charming qualities is that he can talk anyone into enjoying his presence.

He had already made up his mind. You’re going to like him. You’re going to sleep with him too and like it, and he’s definitely not going to catch feelings for you so he can make you feel as embarrassed as he did tonight.

He’ll just have to set his plan in motion during class.

325 notes · View notes

absurdthirst · 1 day ago

Text

All American Thanksgiving {Javier Peña x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.9k

Warnings: Sex with strangers, protected sex, outdoors sex, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), restraints, temperature play, begging, submissiveness, face riding, angst, heartbreak

Comments: Working on Thanksgiving leads to meeting Javier Peña.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Javier Peña MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Javier rubs his cheek as he strides to the door of the diner. It’s Thanksgiving and he volunteered to work. He doesn’t mind sitting in a cop car instead of handling Lorraine and her family like he would’ve had to do. He walks into the empty diner and sits at the counter. You look up when you see him waiting at the counter, surprised anyone showed up on Thanksgiving, but you wipe your hands on your apron and walk along the counter to greet him. “Hey. Happy Thanksgiving. What can I get you to drink?” You ask, taken back by how handsome he is when he looks up at you with beautiful dark brown eyes.

He’s always been a bit of a flirt, but he’s tried to be good while he was dating Lorraine. However, he’s tired of her pushing for a ring, for a proposal. Wanting the wedding that Javi isn’t ready for. She keeps telling him that he can’t keep getting the milk for free when he hasn’t bought the cow. So he decided to tell her he needed a break. Right before the holiday and she keeps calling, her mother stopped him in the grocery store and gave him an earful and her father undoubtedly has been waiting to run into him. “Kind of a slow day, huh?” He asks, glancing around the deserted dinner. “Got any coffee brewed?”

You chuckle, glancing behind you to the half empty pot. “Definitely. It’s what I’ve been surviving on today since it’s been so quiet. Who knew so many people had families to see today?” You tease as you turn to grab a cup to pour him some coffee. “You got stuck with the ghost shift today too?” You ask as you set the cup down on the counter for him.

He snorts. “I volunteered.” He offers. “It was better than spending the day with people I don’t want to be around, talking about subjects I don’t give a fuck about.”

You hum, nodding in agreement, “True. Especially politics and religion. Luckily for me, I don’t have to worry about that because my parents are gone and I’m an only child.” You confess, reaching for a menu to set it down. “Me and the cook back there volunteered to let our coworkers spend the day with their families.”

“That was nice of you.” He watches as you walk away to get the coffee pot, his eyes falling down to your ass. It’s a nice ass, wrapped in your diner uniforms.

You come back, sensing his eyes on you when you walked away, and you smirk as you pour his coffee. He's attractive but you can tell he knows it. "Well, it's starting to feel like it was a good choice." You say as you stare at him appraisingly. "Always liked a man in uniform."

He wings up a brow, leaning back slightly. It’s been a long time since he’s really talked to a woman that wasn’t his family or Lorraine’s and he smirks. “You can look all you want.” He promises. “I don’t mind.”

You like his smirk, feeling your stomach twist with attraction, and you finish pouring his coffee. “See anything you like? On the menu?” You add, offering him a smirk of your own.

“Only the menu is available?” Javi hums. “Damn shame.” He glances down at your hand and sees you don’t have a wedding ring on. “He’s a lucky fucker.”

His words make you hot under your uniform, his dark eyes flicking up to yours and you offer him a soft shake of your head, "there's no lucky fucker. Single as a pringle." You hum, "and you? I'm sure your lady knows she's lucky."

“Single.” Javi shrugs slightly. “Recent occurrence.” Leaning forward, he picks up his coffee cup with three fingers and watches you while he takes a sip, “my real question is how are you single? I bet you get hit on all the time, pretty as you are.”

You chuckle, shaking your head again, "if you count old men and truckers, then allll the time. By someone I'd actually be interested in? Never. Until today." You murmur, resting your elbows on the counter to lean a little closer. "What crazy woman let you out of her bed?" You ask incredulously, eyebrows raised.

He chuckles, appreciating the comment and feeling like it might apply to his ex. She was getting more and more demanding as time went on. “I ran from it, actually.” He admits. “Felt like it wasn’t right.” His gaze turns a little more intense. “She wasn’t the right woman for me. So I’m still looking.”

You hum, "well, her loss and all..." You trail off and look down at the menu, "you want anything to eat, handsome?" You ask flirtatiously, knowing that you are both single. You have no qualms flirting with a sexy man and today has been painfully slow in the diner. You need a distraction.

“Oh, I’m starving.” Javi insists with a lecherous smirk. “And I’ll get something to eat, I guess.” He winks at you and glances behind you when the cook makes his presence known in the kitchen window.

You can sense Adrian's presence but you ignore it to focus on the customer as you reach for your notepad, "what can I get you?" You ask and he glances down at the menu. "All American Breakfast. Bacon, eggs over easy, pancakes." He orders and you nod, writing it down, "hash browns or grits?" You ask and he licks his lips, "hash browns." You nod and scribble down his order, handing it to Adrian who grunts and gets to work. "That should be up soon." You tell him and walk along the counter to grab the syrup and preserves for him to choose from.

“Fuck.” He notices the extra sway to your hips when you walk away from him and it makes his cock twitch. It’s been a slow day and he doesn’t have any calls right now, so he plans to stay and flirt with you until the dispatcher radios him. “Strawberry.” He tells you when you offer him a choice. “Sweet and juicy, how I like it.”

You giggle, your stomach lurching with attraction and lust from his words, and you bring his selection over to him, setting it down. "So...do I get to know your first name, Officer Peña?" You ask, glancing down at his badge and you know he can read your name on your badge.

“Javier.” He’s spilled a little of the coffee on his thumb so he swipes his tongue across it after saying your name in return. “You have a beautiful name.” He compliments. “Matches your ass.”

You inhale shakily before you breathe out, "now there's a compliment you don't get everyday." You lean over the counter again, watching him as he lowers his hand from his mouth. "You have massive hands." You reach for the one he didn't lick, admiring his thick fingers, "makes a girl wonder where else is big." You flirt, caressing the back of his hand.

Javi’s no fool and that is an invitation as clear as day. Running his tongue over his teeth, he arches a brow as he glances at the kitchen window again. “Why don’t we go have a smoke?” He asks you. “Out back.”

You nod, cunt dripping for this stranger, but you feel like you need this. You spin around to talk to Adrian through the kitchen window. "I'm going for a break." You call out and Adrian waves his spatula over his shoulder to dismiss you. He's never been one with words. You reach behind you to untie your apron and shove it under the counter before you stride down the counter at the same pace he walks until you meet him at the side entrance to the dinner. He pushes the door open for you and you step outside, inhaling the fresh air. "I don't really smoke." You confess, turning towards him just as he reaches for your waist to pull you into his chest. "It's not a cigarette I want right now." He rasps, his hard cock pressing against your hip and you moan, reaching up to cup his cheeks, dragging his face to yours.

Javi leans into the kiss eagerly, having missed the physicality of sex since ending things with Lorraine. He’s almost given in and called her a few times but had resisted so far. Now, he’s wrapping his arms around you and dragging you closer, immediately sliding his tongue into your mouth with a moan.

Your tongue slides against his as his hands slide down to squeeze your ass through your dress. You moan into the kiss, grinding against him as he walks you backwards towards the wall of the diner and you gasp when he kisses your jaw. “Tell me what you want, hermosa.” He demands and you whimper, “need you to fuck me.” You order, reaching between you to squeeze his cock through his pants.

Javi groans into your mouth, twitching in your hand. “I can fuck you.” He promises, breaking away from your lips to kiss along your jaw. His fingers trail around your hip and push into your panties to find your clit and slide his fingers through your wet folds to press inside you slowly. “Fuck, you’re gonna feel so good around my cock.” He tells you as your walls hug his fingers.

His fingers are thick and stretch you, making you moan his name as he starts to work you open on them. You’re dripping wet for him and you fumble with his belt, trying to get his pants open. “Fuck. This uniform is so hot.” You murmur, his gun still on his hip as he pumps his fingers. You finally get his pants open and reach in to pull his hard cock out, moaning at the girth you discover.

He chuckles against your pulse as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of your tight cunt, curling them up. Wanting you to feel good when he slides inside you. “So is your uniform.” He pants. “Serving me coffee and pussy.”

“Better leave a good tip.” You tease breathlessly as he presses his thumb against your clit and you pump his cock, loving the way he twitches in your palm. His breaths are hot against your neck and you need him to be inside you. “Javier. Please.” You beg, walls fluttering around his digits as he works you up.

“You don’t want to cum like this?” He is halfway teasing but he curls and presses his fingers deeper. Pressing against that spongy spot that has you gasping out his name. “You just want my cock?”

“Oh shit.” You gasp as he presses his fingers against that spot. “Yes. Shit. Keep- keep going. I’m so close.” You pant out your confession as you grind down onto his fingers, your grip on his cock tightening. He chuckles and it makes your stomach clench, sending you over the edge and your knees buckle while you clamp down on his fingers.

Javi’s body pressed against you keeps you upright against the wall. Groaning into your skin while you soak his fingers and he pumps them in and out of you with a squelching sound. Enjoying the way you are whimpering and his cock pulses in your hand.

You try to catch your breath as he works you through it until you regain your senses. You let go of his cock to cup his cheeks, pressing your lips to his after you demand, “fuck me.”

Javi licks into your mouth again, pulling his fingers out of your dripping pussy to reach for his wallet. Always keeping a spare condom in the side pocket, he pulls it out blindly and drops the wallet on the ground in his hast to rip the foil packet open and roll it on.

You shove your dress up your hips and watch him roll the condom down his cock. He’s thick and you would go down on him if you knew him better. “Baby, please.” You beg, whining as he grabs your thigh, lifting it over his hip, and you groan when he notches himself at your entrance and starts to push into you.

Javi doesn’t just thrust into you roughly, but his hips are firm as they press you into the wall. Filling you with a smooth roll of his hips that is taking your breath and making him choke out in pleasure as he bottoms out. “Fuuuuuuck.” The curse is growled into your mouth, following his tongue as it slides against yours and his eyes close at the hot clutch of your cunt around him.

He stretches you out and you grip his shoulder as he starts to move inside you. Your tongue tangles with his and this is pleasure you haven't felt for a long time. He is strong beneath your touch as he rocks into you and you moan, tilting your head back against the wall when he adjusts his hips, "fuck, that's good."

Javi grunts in agreement, moving to kiss every inch of your neck and shoulder that he can reach while he’s rocking into you. His hands around your back, holding you as he thrusts. The jingle of his belt is loud but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t even care if anyone manages to see you, he’s too focused on how good you feel around him.

Anyone could see you from the road but you don't care. Adrian could come out and find you but you don't give a fuck. Not when Javier is making you feel like this. He thrusts into you, his hand sliding down to your ass and you moan, rocking your hips to meet his, his belt hitting your thigh with each thrust.

“Fuck, you’re gonna cum again, aren’t you?” He pants as he fucks you. “I can feel it. Cum for me.” He wants to feel you cum on his cock, needs to feel it because he can feel his own body tensing to cum. It’s been so long since he’s fucked anyone but Lorraine that it’s overwhelming. “Cum for me, baby.”

His words have you falling over the edge. His cock pushes deep and you clamp down on it with a cry. Your nails dig into his uniform as you cum for him, squeezing his cock inside your fluttering walls. “Cu- cum for me.” You plead, wanting to watch him fall apart.

Javi’s jaw tenses. nostrils flaring as his hips snap forward three more times before he is faltering. Burying himself deep with a groan as his cock pulses inside you. Flooding the condom with his seed.

You love the way his jaw clenches as he twitches inside you. “Fuck, you’re so handsome.” You caress his cheek as he works himself through his pleasure until he lowers your thigh from his hip. You kiss him softly and he reaches down to grip the base of his cock as he pulls out of you.

“Fuck.” Javi hisses as he slides the condom off quickly and ties it closed. “Now I do need a cigarette.” He chuckles, shoving the used condom into the trash can and tucking his cock away. He zips up and looks at you as you adjust your panties and pull your dress back into place.

You stumble slightly and he reaches out to stabilize you. “Sorry. Just not used to cumming that hard.” You confess with a giggle and he chuckles, rubbing your arms. “You want your breakfast? Come in and have a smoke and your food.” You tell him, opening the door to the diner and he follows you inside, playfully smacking your ass which makes you giggle.

Javi goes back to his seat, sipping his coffee as he pulls out his pack of cigarettes. Watching you move over to the window where his meal is sitting, having obviously been waiting for him. Grinning, you turn back and bring it over to him and he smirks. “Why won’t you get a drink and sit down with me?” He asks, inhaling a drag from the cigarette. “Not like you have a ton of tables to check.”

You glance at the kitchen window where Adrian is cleaning the griddle and you nod, grabbing a cup of coffee for yourself. Your pussy aches a little as you take a seat next to him and he taps his cigarette on the ashtray sitting on the counter. "So what made you want to be a cop?" You ask, eying his badge.

“Didn’t want to be a rancher.” He snorts, picking up his coffee cup and taking another sip before he sets it back down and picks up his fork. “I studied philosophy and criminal justice in college.” He admits, cutting into his pancakes and then picking up the syrup to drizzle over the top. “Don’t see a lot of work for a philosopher around here.”

You take a sip of your coffee and you chuckle, "I don't know. Some people around here need to take a good look at their lives. Maybe you could help them." You tease, "but being a cop...it's a hard job. Not one I'd want to do." You confess, "I bet it's hard to deal with the smugglers."

“Yeah.” He frowns slightly. “I try to prevent as much as I can, but I’m not in the DEA.” He has talked with agents a lot and even been told he needs to apply, but he hadn’t decided if he wanted to leave Laredo or not. His dad would be all alone. He never said it, but he could tell that he had missed Javi while he was in college.

You nod in understanding, “I heard the president talking about stopping the cartels but who knows what will happen. If you did join the DEA, I’m sure every woman in Laredo would miss you in uniform.” You wink, taking another sip of your coffee.

He chuckles. “Yep, I’m sure old Mrs. Murphy will miss calling me out to report that someone’s walked through her flowerbed.” He tells you. “It’s her cat, every time.”

You giggle, “she probably just wants to see a sexy cop.” You tease and he continues to eat his food. “I’d definitely be calling you to my house at every chance and you’d have a different kind of pussy to deal with.” You wink playfully, resting your elbows on the counter.

After scooping up a bite of his eggs, he smirks at you and turns the fork around to offer you the bite. “I’d be having a different kind of meal too.” He promises, that smirk broadening into a grin when you take the bite off of his fork with a look of surprise on your face. “Where do you live?” He asks. “Professionally speaking, so I can keep an ear out for the call on the radio.”

You grin after you swallow the eggs he offered you. “For professional purposes?” You ask and he nods, his knee pressing against yours under the counter. You tell him your address, “so if you’re in the area, stop by.” You wink, “and you can have your meal.”

He arches a brow, making note of the address. It’s not too far from his normal patrol route. “Gotta warn you,” he takes a bite of eggs and then forks up a bite of the pancakes for you to eat. “I’ve got a hell of an appetite.”

“Good thing I can cook up a storm.” You tease, wrapping your lips around his fork to chew on the bite. Adrian had left for his break so it’s just the two of you in the diner. “And I definitely offer dessert.” You wink after you swallow, “you are welcome anytime, officer.”

Javi smirks and nods. “Definitely take you up on that.” He promises. “Although if keeping the handcuffs on is a turn on, I can always use them on you.” He jokes.

“Or I could use them on you.” You challenge playfully and he chuckles, shrugging one shoulder, “never tried that before.” You smirk, “it would be fun. I mean it, you’re welcome anytime.” You promise and he nods just as his walkie talkie beeps. “Come in Peña.” The dispatcher’s voice is muffled but you lean back, knowing your time with him is over.

Javi sighs and rolls his eyes but he reaches for the radio. “Peña here, what’s going on?”

“Domestic dispute. Thanksgiving dinner gone wrong. 112 Sanders Ave off of Clark near the football stadium.” Kathy at dispatch says, knowing Javier is on his break but the woman had been panicked.

Javi is moving, dropping his fork and standing up as he keys his mic again. “10-4.” He says. “Enroute, five minutes.” He goes to pull his wallet out of his pocket and smirks because he had to pick it up off the ground earlier. “Listen, thanks for the food and the company.” He tells you, handing you several bills. Enough to cover the meal and a good tip. “I’ll try to come back.” He promises.”

You nod, watching him shift off his stool. “Let me get you a coffee to go.” You rush around the counter and grab a paper to-go cup, filling it up and you hand it to him. Your fingers brush his and you wish he wasn’t leaving so soon. “I’ll see you around.” You murmur, glad that Adrian isn’t here to see you step forward to kiss his cheek. He smiles and nods, “see you soon.” He says and makes his way out of the diner. You watch him until his patrol car disappears and you sigh, leaning against the counter for several moments until you clean up his plate.

The entire time he’s gone to the call, he’s thinking about the sex, the conversation. He had enjoyed his time with you, more than he could have imagined in that situation. He takes care of that issue, calming down the couple that had been arguing over the man watching the game and not helping out for Thanksgiving dinner. After that, he had a call for fireworks, basically just telling the kids to space out the explosions, and not set them off near buildings so they don’t catch on fire. After that, it goes quiet and he finds himself driving back to the diner to see if you are still there.

You are refilling the condiments, distracted thinking about Javier, when the man himself strides back into the diner. Your eyes widen and you nearly knock over the sugar as you stand up, brushing down your apron. “You’re back.” You declare and he nods, walking over to the counter, “can I get you a coffee?” You ask, heart pounding in your chest.

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “Too late for that.” He checks his watch and raises a brow. “When do you close tonight? I can’t see too many more people coming if they aren’t already here.”

You check your watch, “in the next fifteen minutes if no one comes in.” You tell him, “you sure you don’t want anything?” You ask as you start to put the condiments away on each table.

He smirks. “Nothing but a date.” He props his hands on his hips and looks at you as you work. “Don’t think we can go out tonight but, what do you say?” He had been thinking about you the entire time he was working and was eager to come back. It’s a step in the right direction and tells him that he was right to end things with Lorraine.

You are shocked that he came back to ask you out but your heart pounds and you blurt out a “yes” before you can even process it. He grins, nodding his head, “I, uh, I’ll give you my number.” You scramble for your notepad and write your number and address down for him. “I have tomorrow off if you, uh, if you’re free. If not, call me and we can figure something out.” You tell him with a smile that won’t leave your face.

Javi grins, taking the slip of paper that you had written his order down on, now having your number on it, and folds it over to tuck into his shirt pocket. “I’m off too.” He tells you. “Perks of working the holiday.” He jokes. “You want to get dinner? Let someone serve you for a change?”

You nod, “that sounds good.” You can’t stop smiling. You truly dreaded coming into work today but Javier has changed everything, making this a great day. “Seven?” You suggest and he nods, stepping closer to you. He glances around to see if Adrian is nearby until he cups your cheek and you lean in to press your lips to his. The kiss is sweet and short and when he pulls back, you cover your lips with your fingers, giggling. “I’ll see you tomorrow, officer.” You say and he chuckles, offering you a wink before he leaves the diner. “He’s going to be trouble.” Adrian calls out for the kitchen, “mark my words.” He says and you roll your eyes, “I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.” You finish your shift with a grin, planning what you’re going to wear tomorrow night for your date.

****

Javi hadn’t called that night since you had plans, but he’s pulling his truck up to your address five minutes before seven. It’s been a long damn time since he’s gone on a first date and Chucho had smirked when he had seen his son taking pains with his appearance and applying his new cologne. Now he wonders if he should have brought flowers since he’s already fucked you, but he can’t leave and go get some. Rolling his eyes at his stupidity, he opens the door and reaches for his cigarettes while he waits to knock on your door.

You rush around, making sure you look good. You’d picked a classy but sexy dress to impress him and it’s silly because you’ve already had sex, but you like him. A lot. You want to get to know him more and you want to make a good first date impression. You spray your perfume and when the doorbell rings, you inhale deeply, checking your appearance in the mirror before you open your front door. He’s wearing jeans that cling to his thighs, making your mouth water until you take in his checked shirt and the cowboy boots. Fuck, he looks sexy. “Hey.” You greet him softly, leaning against your doorframe after you open the door.

Javi smiles as he takes in your dress with a slow perusal of your body, up and down until he’s looking at your face again. “Hey.” He murmurs, his eyes already darkening in approval. “You look good.” He tells you. “Real good.” If he hadn’t promised you a date, he would be trying to talk you into bed right now.

His compliment makes you shiver in arousal and you’re tempted to drag him off to your bed but you need to get to know him. You want to know more about him. “Thanks, handsome. Let me just grab my purse and we can go.” You say and leave the door open as you find your purse. “You ready?” You ask and he nods, stepping back after you close the door so you can lock up.

He guides you towards the truck and opens the door for you. “So how do you feel about going across the border for dinner?” He asks. “There’s a great little restaurant on the river that serves the best food you’ll ever eat.”

You nod, “I’m down for anything.” You promise and you get up into his truck, watching him close the door and walk around. He comes across as a strong man and you love that he takes your hand as soon as he is driving down the street. “I’m really happy you came back to ask me on a date. I kicked myself for not getting your number.” You confess, squeezing his hand.

He hums as he guides the truck down the road towards the river. “I had to leave sooner than I wanted to.” He reminds you. “Asshole husband wanted to sit on his butt watching the game instead of helping set up for the entire family coming over.” He snorts. “Poor bastard never spent days making tamales at the table with mama.”

You scoff, “I feel bad for some women. They are completely stuck in their homes doing everything instead of following their dreams, doing what they want. I mean, I work in a diner but at least I’m standing on my own two feet and not dependent on some asshole who doesn’t do shit for my weekly grocery money.”

He finds that refreshing and he nods. “My mama was a “homemaker”.” He tells you. “But she ran our house, our lives.” He chuckles. “Pop would drive mama to the store for groceries because when they were first married he told her he expected the shopping to be done by her.” He shoots you a grin. “She made him eat those words and he ended up loving going shopping with her every week.”

You giggle, “your mama sounds like an incredible woman.” Javier nods, his brow furrowed, “she was.” Your smile drops and you squeeze his hand, “I’m sorry. I lost my parents when I was eighteen to a car accident. They left me their house and that’s how I’ve been able to survive.” You confess, “I- I’m sorry. It hurts. You want to talk to them, tell them everything that happens in your life, but they aren’t there. It’s horrible.” You admit, feeling your eyes sting with unshed tears for your own family.

“I’m sorry.” Javi flips his hand over yours and laces his fingers through to hold your hand. He squeezes it gently. “I know you have to miss them. I miss my mama every damn day.” He murmurs quietly. “Don’t ever apologize for missing someone you love.”

You love that you can understand his grief and he can understand yours. It's hard to relate when your partner hasn't lost a parent so you feel even more connected to Javier. He pulls up outside the restaurant moments later and helps you out, his hand on your back as he guides you into the restaurant. You feel protected and you love how he takes charge as he gives his name and pulls out your chair when you sit down at the table.

He tells you what he plans to order, “it’s the best you’ve ever had.” He promises, tapping the menu. When the waitress comes up, he orders two beers after checking with you and then looking back at you as she walks away. “So, tell me how you came to be at the diner?” He asks. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in there before, but I work odd hours a lot.”

You tap your fingers on the table, “my friend, Pam. She’s well, she was my mom’s best friend and she owns the diner. After my parents died, she was my rock and offered me a job. I planned to go to college but that kind of got pushed aside from grief and I’ve been there ever since. Maybe one day I’ll go to college but for now, I don’t mind working at the diner. I take weird shifts since a lot of the other girls have families. I’m happy to help them out since I’m alone.” You confess, offering him a shrug of your shoulder.

He nods, knowing that he doesn't mind the long, odd hours that come with his job sometimes. Although Lorraine would constantly complain when something would interfere with her plans. Like public safety and criminals would just stop at five when everyone else got off work.

The waitress brings back your beers and you tell Javier to order so you can have the same thing. “I’ll see if your recommendation is up to scratch.” You tease, picking up your beer to clink it against his. “To first dates.” He toasts and you smile, “to first dates.” Javier smirks after he has a sip, “so what happens if my recommendation isn’t up to your standard?” You giggle, setting your bottle down to take his hand in yours, “then you won’t get the blowjob I’ve been imagining since you left the diner yesterday.”

His cock twitches in his jeans. “Blow job?” He asks, sure that you’re fucking with him. “Thought good girls didn’t like to suck cock?” He had stopped asking for a blow job after it was treated like a chore. He had taken the hint, but he damn sure hadn’t gone down on Lorraine either - just sticking to sex. He had counted it as another strike against the relationship. If the sex life dried up and they weren’t even married, what would it look like in ten years? He didn’t want to find out.

You lean closer, lowering your voice, “who said I was a good girl?” You tease and you love the way he inhales sharply. “Baby.” He murmurs and you turn his hand over, tracing circles on his palm, “you’re sexy and capable, why wouldn’t I want to be on my knees for you?”

Javi shivers, feeling his body respond to the promise in your eyes. “Then you’ll be on them later on.” He promises, imagining the way you would look up at him with his cock in your mouth. “And then I’ll see how loud you can scream my name.”

You pick his hand up to press a kiss to his palm before you lower it back to the table, “I’m excited for that.” You murmur, “I, uh, I don’t usually - this isn’t what I do.” You clarify, “you’re the first man I’ve slept with since my ex and I broke up about six months ago. There’s something about you that makes me want to throw caution to the wind.”

“I don’t think any less of you.” He promises, smirking slightly. “I was right there with you, just as guilty.” He winks playfully and tilts his head. “Why did you and your ex break up? Was he just stupid?”

You sigh, “he wanted me to move across the country to Florida. I couldn’t leave my parents’ house. I know it’s stupid but it’s the last connection I have to them. I couldn’t sell it and move. He refused to stay in Laredo and we broke up. He’s dating some girl in Miami now. It wasn’t meant to be.” You confess, “and you? Why did you break up with your ex?”

Javi knows this might be something you don’t like but he sighs. “She was pushing for marriage and wouldn’t listen when I told her that we needed to fix some things in our relationship first.” He tells you honestly. “She kept pushing for me to quit the department, go work for her dad.” He snorts. “I don’t want to fucking sell furniture.”

You nod in understanding, “you can’t just get married without sorting those issues out. That’s a hot ticket to divorce. And you definitely don’t look like a furniture salesman. Annoying fuckers.” You snort, “you need to make the right choice for you otherwise you’ll be too old with kids and look back thinking what the fuck did I do with my life?” You know life is short.

He laughs and nods. “Exactly.” He shakes his head. “What about you?” He asks. “You want kids? The life?” He isn’t opposed to it, but it’s not like he is rushing to find a woman to pump out kids for him. He just kind of assumed they would always one day happen, although one day seemed to be a far off concept.

You shake your head, “I’m not in a rush. I do want to get married, have kids. My parents had a great marriage. They were partners but they - my mom could only have me. They wanted more kids. I would like a couple of kids. A husband. A dog. All of it. But not yet. I am still figuring myself out.” You confess, continuing to trace his palm.

“And what have you figured out so far?” He asks, finding it easy to talk to you. You aren’t playing games, being coy. It’s nice to just talk about things without any expectations or debates about what he should want. He got plenty of that from Lorraine’s family.

“That I am stronger than I thought.” You confess, “after my parents died…I thought I would crumble. But I didn’t. I got stronger and I miss them so much but I’m surviving. I need to find who I am without my grief. I am slowly getting there.” You murmur, “I want to enjoy life to the fullest. That’s my goal. In honor of my parents.”

“That’s a good tribute to them.” He agrees. The rest of the dinner is amazing, both of you talking about everything and anything. Javi tells you some jokes that make you laugh and there’s plenty of flirting as well. Even as you agree that it’s the best food you’ve had. Now you are in the truck parked in front of your house again and Javi wonders if you are going to invite him in.

Javi comes around to open the passenger door and he walks you to the front door of your house, his hand on your back until you turn to face him. You step closer, placing your hands on his chest, “do you want to come in?” You ask, biting your lip, prepared for him to say no and you should be more coy but you want him again.

He licks his lips and nods. "I want to come in." He promises you, happy that he had slipped another condom into his wallet. He presses closer and leans in, kissing you softly before he pulls away. "Open the door, hermosa." He hums, his hands sliding down from your hips to your ass. "This time I want to see you naked."

His words make you grin and you fumble slightly as you grab your keys until you manage to get the door open. You step inside, his hands around your waist as you walk in and he kicks the door shut behind him, spinning you around to press you up against it. You gasp in delight and wrap your arms around his neck, dragging his mouth to yours.

This time he can spend time on you. Stripping you down and feasting on your body while drowning himself in the pleasure of it. Everything blurs in his mind, all his problems fade and you are exciting. You are just as eager as he is. His cock is already starting to hard just from your soft lips yielding to him and his tongue slides against yours as you gasp into his mouth.

His thigh pushes between your legs and you grind down onto him as his tongue tangles with yours. You moan into his kiss, your hands sliding to the buttons of his shirt, starting to work it open so you can touch more of him.

Javi likes that you are undressing him. Likes that you are taking charge even if you are the one with your back against the wall. He pushes his thigh up a little higher as you grind down on it and he can feel the dampness starting to grow. "Fuck." he groans, breaking away and kissing down your neck. "No panties?" He twitches against your stomach.

“I was feeling lucky.” You tease, shoving his shirt open and you caress his chest once his skin is bare. “Shit. You’re so handsome.” You murmur against his hair as he kisses down to your collarbone and you scratch your nails over his nipples, grinding onto his jeans.

Javi hisses your name, hands sliding back up your dress to find the zipper. He doesn't want to just push your dress up again but he needs to touch you. "You are fucking gorgeous." He finds your lips again to kiss you as he drags the small zipper down.

His words make your body heat up and you know he means it, it’s not just to get into your pants. You haven’t even made it down the hall, the chemistry between you sizzles and you arch your back to allow him to pull the zipper down, his shirt hitting the floor when he finally shrugs out of it when you whine.

He chuckles, stepping backs so he can peel your dress down and reveal your bra. "Fuck," his hands cup your tits and he is delighted to find that the snap for your bra is in the front, letting him unclip it easily.

His eyes are dark and you love how hungry he looks as he pushes your bra off your shoulders and cups your tits as soon as it hits the floor. Your hands slide down to his belt, working to open in your desperation to see all of him, feel all of him.

Your hands are hot and eager on his skin, opening his belt with a hunger that jerks his hips towards you as you pull at the belt. "Let me- let me get you to the bedroom." He grunts, knowing that he wants to spread you out.

You nod, knowing you want him in a bed so you shimmy your dress down, kick off your heels, and take his hand to guide him to your bedroom while completely naked. His free hand works on his belt, letting it drop to the floor, and you open the door to your bedroom.

"Cute bed." He hums, noting your flowery bedspread. "Maybe I should have brought my handcuffs to tie you to it."

You smirk, “next time, officer.” You promise and waste no time sinking down to your knees, working on the zipper of his jeans, “now, I do believe I promised you a blow job if your recommendation was good enough and that was the best food I’ve had in a while.” You smirk and lean in to kiss his belly while you open his jeans until you reach in to pull his hard cock out. “Fuck. It looks as good as it feels.” You murmur, gripping him until you lean in to flick your tongue over the drop of precum before you take him into your mouth.

"Oh fuck." Javi's eyes roll back in pleasure and he fights to open them again and keep his gaze centered on you. "You- fuck, you - you are good at this." He pants out, reaching out and caressing your cheek and jaw as you take him deep into your mouth and hollow your cheeks around him. "Fuck."

You moan around him, loving the way he tries to not thrust into your throat but you want it. You grab his thighs, managing to pull his pants down further so you can cradle his balls while you take him deeper, choking when he hits the back of your throat. You splutter slightly and take a deep breath, pushing his cock down your throat as you breathe through your nose.

He likes that you choke but keep going. You don’t care that your eyes are watering and your makeup is smearing. Your eyes are watching him and your mouth feels like heaven around his cock.

“Fuck, “I’m going to cum.” Javi warns, loving how you just hum around him. A few seconds later, he’s cumming down your throat, growling your name and panting breathlessly.

Pulling off his cock once you’ve swallowed every drop, you love how he is immediately hauling you to your feel and pushing you down on the bed, “It’s your turn.” He smirks, spreading your thighs as he settles between them, finding a pretty shaved landing strip. “You groomed for me?” He asks playfully. “You shouldn’t have.”

You chuckle, flushing and shaking your head, “just wanted to make sure your dessert was presented nicely.” You tease, watching him settle between your thighs. He kisses your skin and you whimper, “hope you like it, officer.”

Javi smirks and nudges his nose against your clit, inhaling the heady scent of your arousal. You got wet while sucking his cock and he uses his fingers to pull your folds apart to expose the sensitive skin. “Let me show you how much.” He coos before he is sliding his tongue through your folds with a pleased groan.

You whimper, running your fingers through his hair, loving how his tongue feels. It’s wet and hot and makes you gasp when he flicks it over your clit. “Baby.” You whine, “you feel so good.” You compliment, tugging on his hair.

Javi wants to make this good for you. You sucked his cock and your cunt feels like heaven. He wants to see what you look like when you fall apart on his tongue. Eager to see how you moan and thrash around for him as he flicks his tongue over your clit.

It’s mind blowing how good his tongue feels against your clit, sucking on your folds and he pushes his tongue into your pussy. You watch him, shifting onto your elbow to watch him, “fuck, handsome, you’re so good at that.”

He hums against your folds, winking at you playfully from his place between your thighs, his mouth still attached to your cunt. He loves how vocal you are, how sweet the whines are when your thighs tense. His fingers dig into your hips and hold you in place.

You rock your hips against his face as he works his tongue deep in your pussy, your fingers tangled in his hair, and his nose presses just right against your clit. “Fuck. Oh shit. That - that’s it.” You pant, loving how good it feels as he works you up.

He wants you to cum. He wants to see your cunt flutter before he slides inside you. Groaning into you as your fingers tug at his hair and his cock twitches against the sheets. He pulls his tongue out of your pussy and flicks it over your clit before sucking it into his mouth.

"Oh my - fuck!" You cry when he sucks on your clit and your eyes roll into the back of your head. You love it. You fucking love it. You gasp, thighs starting to shake around his head, and you moan his name when you finally fall apart. You cry out, thighs squeezing his head while you soak his chin.

Javi moans into your folds. He loves when a woman comes apart for him. It’s addictive and he loves that just as much as he loves cumming himself. Lapping at your juices until he pulls away with his mouth shiny with your slick, he kisses your clit and then starts to work his way up your body.

You pant, catching your breath as he kisses up your body, wrapping his lips around your nipple, and his cock is hard against your thigh. You reach down to wrap your fingers around him, pumping his cock, “need you inside me, baby.” You demand breathlessly.

“Fuck.” He groans against your chin. “Do you have a condom in your nightstand?” His pants are too far away for his liking and he doesn’t want to pull away from your grip.

You nod, stretching out after you release his cock to grab a condom from your nightstand. His hands squeezing your ass as you turn onto your side, grabbing the condom. You shove it into his hand and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his face to yours to kiss him.

Javi can kiss a woman and open up a condom without looking at it. Focusing on you as he pulls the rubber out and rolls it down his cock. Groaning as he pumps himself a few times to position himself between your thighs.

You moan into his mouth when he starts to enter you, stretching you out like he did the day before behind the diner. "Fuck." You pant against his chin, shifting your gaze so you can watch him push into you. "You're so gorgeous, baby." You murmur, kissing along his jaw after a moment of watching him until he's pressing against your cervix.

He chuckles, thinking that should be his comment to you. Turning his head to press his lips to your and give you a moment to relax before he starts to move.

You let him set the pace, lifting your thighs onto his hips while your hands explore his chest, up to his shoulders, and down his back until you’re squeezing his ass. He’s strong above you, making you feel like the world outside doesn’t exist, and that makes you whimper into his kiss.

Javi is a passionate lover, he pours himself in the intimacy with total abandon. Forgetting everything else but the way you move under him and respond to every thrust.

His thrusts are deep but unhurried, making your chest heave against his, his hand coming up to squeeze your breast and you whine his name. "Feel so good, baby. Better. It's gotten better." You moan, wrapping your legs around him.

Your comment makes him huff against your chin, smirking slightly as he continues to rock into you. “And the next time will be even better.” He teases. “And then even better the time after that.”

"Fuck, you're gonna have me addicted to you." You tease, "gonna need to keep you in my bed every damn day to use your cock." You chuckle when he twitches inside of you. "And I want - God, I want you in it every day."

He groans, completely agreeing with your line of thinking. “Works for me.” He kisses along your shoulder and up your neck. “Pussy feels amazing and you are incredible.” He squeezes your breast gently.

You smile at his words, glad he’s on the same page, and you rock your hips up to grind against him, moaning when his pelvis rubs your clit. “Fuck yes. There.” You pant when he hits something incredible inside you and his pelvis rubs your clit. “Keep - keep going. Just like that.”

He pants, trying to keep his hips angled the same way. Wanting to hear you moan again. “There?” He asks, huffing proudly when you nod. “Yes, just- oh god.” You whimper, making him rock his hips a little harder, knowing you are close to cumming.

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Ja-" You cut yourself out with a cry as you clamp down on his cock, lost in the sensations of your orgasm while he continues to rock into you as best he can while you squeeze him.

He grits his teeth, hissing in pleasure as he works you through that orgasm. Loving how your walls spasm around him and flutter. Your eyes skip closed and your head tilts back, letting him kiss along your chin as he works you through and pushes towards his own.

The pleasure makes your toes curl and you whimper, walls fluttering around him. "So good. So good, baby. Want - need you to cum for me." You plead, scratching down his back as you rock your hips to meet his.

Your lips meet his and he groans into your mouth, ramping up his thrusts and hearing his hips slap against the back of your ass as he fucks you. Grunting in pleasure as he gets closer and closer.

The moment he falls apart makes you moan into his mouth, your tongue sliding against his when his groan vibrates against your lips and his cock twitches inside of you. You caress his back, letting him rock himself through his climax.

“Fuck.” He hisses, kissing you again and collapsing against you for a moment. He can savor it, rest for a second and not immediately pull away. It’s not like you’re behind the diner this time. He kisses you softly a few more times before he finally reaches between you to grip the base of his cock to make sure the condom stays in place.

It’s impossible to not relax into the sheets beneath you. Your body buzzing from the orgasms and you watch him as he ties off the condom and tosses it into the bin near your bed. “Come here, handsome.” You order, dragging him back into your bed so you can pull him close to kiss him. “That’s was so damn good.” You murmur, running your fingers through his hair.

He chuckles, his head leaning against the headboard and his arm comes around you as you snuggle against him. “Damn good.” He agrees. “Want a cigarette but I don’t want to move.” He’s relaxed and blissful right now, body humming with pleasure and making him a little drowsy.

“I’d offer you one but I don’t smoke.” You murmur, caressing his chest, “you maybe want to come over for dinner? When you’re free?” You ask, wanting to see him again even if he’s not left your place yet. You want to keep this going.

“When?” He asks, even though he’s not even digested the last meal that you’ve shared together.

“Whenever you’re not working. I work the day shift tomorrow so I'm free tomorrow night. If that’s not too soon?” You bite your lip, wondering if he’s going to get scared off by you being too eager.

He smirks as he looks down at you. “Whatcha making?” He asks playfully. “Have to be pretty good to beat those pancakes and pussy.”

****

“Fuck baby, I’ve got fifteen minutes.” Javi grumps against your lips, fumbling with his belt and pushing you against the wall of the diner again. It’s been two weeks since Thanksgiving and he’s been over at your place every night since the first date. Chucho chuckled whenever he saw Javi, sometimes he was only home to wash his clothes or change. “Fuck, pull my cock out and I’ll get the condom.”

You whine when he pulls back and you work on opening his pants to pull his hard cock out of his uniform. “Shit, Javi. Hurry up. I need you.” You plead, knowing you don’t have a lot of time and you want to have him inside you again. You’ve had sex every day since the first day you met, you’re addicted to him, and you desperately need him right now.

“Hurrying, baby, fuck.” He twitches in your hand and nearly laughs in relief when he finds the condom he has stuck in his pocket when he got dressed this morning. He had known he was coming since you are working the late shift tonight and won’t be home until late. Your house feeling like home to him since he’s spent nearly every night there. “Fucking thought about this all damn day.” As he pushes your panties down, he kisses you again and pushes the condom into your hand before he slides his hand between your thighs to rub your clit.

You fumble to open the foil packet, letting it drop to the ground as you work fast to roll the condom down his length despite his fingers working your clit. “Fuck. Me too. All damn day. Think of you whenever anyone orders the breakfast.” You moan, squeezing his length. “Come on, baby. Fuck me.” You plead and let go of him.

He’s shuffling between your thighs and grips your leg to lift it up and position himself before he’s pushing deep. Swallowing your soft cry of pleasure and giving you a groan of his own as he immediately starts to fuck you.

He stretches you out and you whine, tilting your head against the wall of the diner, his lips immediately attaching to your skin there. “Oh God.” You pant, gripping his shoulders as he thrusts into you, still dressed in the uniform you love.

Javi grunts, driving into you over and over again his knees hit the wall behind you. “Fuck baby.” He’s completely wrapped up in you, hasn’t even thought about Lorraine since that second date with you. He’s been happier and lighter since you’ve been with him.

He grunts as he rocks into you, knowing there's a diner full of customers that haven't got a clue that you are outside getting fucked by the handsome cop who came in for coffee and a donut. "So good, Jav." You whimper, lifting your thigh a little higher and he pushes deeper, making you moan. You were wet as soon as you saw his patrol car pull up and you are already climbing to your climax.

“Cum for me baby.” He begs against your pulse, pressing kisses to your galloping pulse and scraping his teeth over your skin. “Fuck, I want you to cum for me.”

You can't deny his request, your pussy fluttering around his cock until you fall over the edge. Gripping his uniform in your fingers, you clamp down on his cock with a cry out his name you can't guarantee the diner didn't hear, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

Javi is cumming right after you are. Pent up from thinking about this, about you all day. He’s groaning your name and moving up to capture your lips in a searing kiss as he floods the condom with ropes of his seed as his knees buckle slightly.

You love how he feels when he cums, the way he tenses up, and you slide your hands down, caressing his badge as he pants against your lips. "That was a nice surprise." You smile, "I love when you come to see me at work."

He hums as he kisses you again. “Wanted to come see you.” He admits. “I’ll be back when you close the diner.” He kisses you again and starts to pull out of you gently. “Make sure you get home safe.”

You smile, “my hero.” You coo and watch as he ties off the condom while you pull your panties up and push your dress down your thighs. “I’ll see you later then. You want a coffee to go?” You ask and he nods, playfully smacking your ass once he’s all tucked away. You gasp, smacking his chest, and you walk back into the diner to grab him that cup while Adrian eyes you from the kitchen window. “Here you go, baby.” You murmur as you hand him the cup, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you later, officer.” You love how he winks before he strides out of the diner, eyed by several of the women but you know you’ll be in the one in bed with him later.

At the end of his shift, Javi pulls back up to the dinner again. Parking the car and turning off the engine while he watches you work through the windows. You move with grace, picking up the condiment bottles to wipe down and store for the night. It had been a hard end of shift, he had a young boy die in his arms. A drug overdose. Hours spent at the hospital and plenty of paperwork, but the worst part was telling those poor parents their son was never coming home. He sighs softly as he sets out of the car and leans against the hood, lighting up a much needed cigarette.

You see Javier waiting for you after you lock the front door and Adrian lights his own cigarette. “That one will be trouble for you, mark my words.” He says and strides off, “goodnight.” You call out to him and shove the keys in your purse, making your way over to Javier. “You look stressed.” You observe, “what happened?” You ask as you step closer to wrap your arms around him.

His arms wind around you and he drags you close, needing your warmth to chase away to sorrow. “Had a kid die tonight.” He tells you, his voice rough with emotion. “Overdosed on cocaine.” He swallows harshly and sighs. “Fucking sixteen years old. In the fucking morgue.”

“Shit.” You murmur, resting your cheek on his chest, feeling his heart pound. “I’m so sorry, baby. That - I can’t even imagine.” You hold each other, knowing how his job takes a toll on his mental health. He feels helpless sometimes and doesn’t feel like he’s doing enough. “I’m sorry.” You whisper, pulling back to look at him.

“I know.” The compassion and worry shines out of your eyes, making him fall for you just a little harder. You are gorgeous, kind, compassionate and warm. Exactly the kind of woman his mother would have picked for him if she had been alive. She would have loved you. He reaches out and cups the back of your neck to drag you to him for a desperate kiss, needing to feel something other than loss.

You kiss him fiercely, wishing you could take away the pain in his eyes, and he’s so damn brave. Not many people could handle that job. You peck his lips when he pulls back, “let’s go back to mine. Get some food.” You caress his cheek and he nods, walking you over to your car. “I’ll see you at home.” You promise and slide into your car. He waits until you’re pulling out of the parking lot to get in his car and follow you to your house.

He hopes that you don’t mind his cruiser outside your house, but you’ve never said a word about it. He doesn’t have the energy to go back to the ranch and get his truck. Drained emotionally and needing something that he can’t say out loud. He needs comforts that only you can provide.

When he walks behind you while you’re unlocking the front door, you nearly drop your keys but you manage to open it. You step inside and groan when you step out of your shoes and throw your purse down. He works on removing his holster, kicking off his shoes, and you turn around when he removes the cuffs. “Give those to me.” You demand, holding out your hand. His eyebrows raise, “you want me to use them on you, hermosa?” He asks and you smirk, “no. I want to use them on you.”

He’s surprised by your answer, but he trusts you. Only frowning slightly as he hands them over and finishes removing his utility belt and radio. He turned it off at the end of his shift, but he’s happy to have the damn thing off. “What do you plan to do?”

“I want you to strip down and I’m going to handcuff you to my bed. Make you forget about everything except how good I’m making you feel.” You explain as you step closer to him, “and I want to make sure you have the key.”

You nod, setting the key down on the counter to make sure it’s safe, and you bite your lip, “strip down. Now.” You order, “I want to see all of you, baby.” He nods, reaching up to start unbuttoning his shirt and you watch him with hungry eyes.

Stripping down is almost cathartic, the weight of his duties sliding off like his clothes. He hesitates on his briefs but you nod. “Those too.” And he hooks his fingers under her elastic band and drags them down so he is standing naked in your entryway. His cock is half hard, but he doesn’t shy away from you seeing him.

You love how strong he looks but you want to break him down, let him take the weight of the world off his shoulders. “Go lay on my bed.” You order, “I’ll be in there in a second.”

He nods, turning and walking down to the bedroom and pulling back the covers to lay in the familiar sheets. He watches the door, getting even harder at the prospect of turning everything over to you and letting you control his pleasure

You strip down to your underwear, leaving him to wait for you, and you grab a cup of ice, bringing it with you along with the handcuffs. You want to take him out of his mind and you love how he looks in your bed, his cock resting on his lower stomach as he waits for you. “Hey baby.” You smirk, striding over to the bed and you set the cup of ice on the nightstand. “You wanna give me a safe word in case you want out of the handcuffs?”

He’s rolling his eyes and snorting. “Let me out of the fuckin’ cuffs.” He chooses, smirking when you huff at him. “I’m good, baby. I promise.”

You giggle, “whatever you say, babe.” You straddle him, loving the way he groans and you grab his wrist, lifting it to your headboard to cuff one hand. You work fast to secure his other hand and you look down at him, “fuck. You look good like this. At my mercy.” You scrap your nails down his chest, loving the way his cock twitches against your ass. You bend down to press your lips to his for a moment until you pull back, reaching for the cup on the nightstand. “What-?” He asks but you shush him, taking a piece of ice in your hand. You shuffle down his body, pressing the ice to his chest, chuckling when he hisses, and you slowly drag the ice cube over his nipple. He clenches his jaw at the coldness but you remove the ice cube and flick your hot tongue over it.

He hisses at the sensation, drawn to the contrast of hot and cold and how it makes his skin ache. You are distracting him, you are his distraction. Blanking out his mind to everything but your touch. “Take off your panties.” He grunts. “Want to feel your pussy on me.” He begs but you just smirk and shake your head. “I’m in charge baby.” You coo, caressing his cheek and dragging the ice cube down the edge of his jaw. “You just lay there and let me take care of you.”

He groans and you giggle, dragging the ice cube down his neck, your tongue following its path. He hisses and you smile against his skin while you circle his other nipple with the ice. It’s melting fast and soon you are flicking your tongue over his nipple while you grab the cup of ice to get another cube. With the new cube in hand, you drag it down his belly, pressing hot kisses in the wake of the cold until you approach his cock. You settle between his legs and drag the ice along the underside of his cock that rests on his belly. He hisses and you smirk, removing the ice to drag your tongue along the same path, taking the head of his cock into your hot mouth.

“Fuuuuuck.” Javi hisses, eyes closing and his head tilts back against the pillows. His arms are stretched above his head and he loves how you are making him forget everything. It’s beautiful, all he can think about is what you are doing to him and how he wishes he could touch you. “Fuck yes baby,” he groans, opening his eyes and looking down. “Try- try the ice in your mouth.” He pants.

You pull off of him, shoving the small ice cube in your mouth then you take him again. The hot and cold are a striking contrast and you groan at the way his cock twitches in your mouth while you drag the ice cube down his length.

“Shit- oh fuck!” The handcuffs rattle slightly as he tugs against them and he can't help but try to rock his hips up. “You are - fuck - you are so goddamn perfect.”

He would deny he has ever whimpered in his life, but an almost tortured sound comes out of his mouth. Jaw slack and eyes closed again in pleasure as you suck his cock. “Fuck- I want- fuck, I want to lick your pussy.” He groans.

You should deny him. Make sure this is only about him, but his whimper and plea are so delicious. You pull off his cock and shift off the bed, shoving your panties down and taking your bra off. “You want me to sit on your face, baby?” You ask as you straddle his stomach, letting him feel how wet you are. “Please baby.” He huffs and you giggle, shifting up until you’re straddling his face. His hot breath washes over your folds and you lower your cunt to his mouth while gripping the headboard.

Javi can be generous, but he’s more so with you. He’s a little submissive. Something he had never had in a relationship before, something he never even thought about wanting but it seems natural with you. Sometimes you need him to give you what you need and right now, you are giving him what he needs. His tongue slides through your folds greedily, hungry for the taste of you and to give you a bit of the pleasure you give him.

You gasp his name as his hot tongue slides through your folds and flicks over your clit. “Oh fuck.” You whimper, trying not to grind down on his face when his hands are cuffed. You let go of the headboard to squeeze your breast with one hand, closing your eyes at the sensation, and you squeal when he sucks on your clit. “Javi, baby, you’re so good. Such a good boy.”

His neglected cock twitches at that statement and he should be pissed but he’s not. He’s liking it. He groans into your folds. Licking at your clit as much as he can.

You rock your hips, grinding down onto him as you reach back to wrap your fingers around his cock, wanting to feel him twitch in your hand while you rock on his tongue.

Javi groans happily into your cunt, bucking his hips up into your grip. Right here is where he could die happy, buried in your pussy with your hand wrapped around his cock. He’s never had the kind of feelings for someone like he feels for you, wanting to put you first instead of himself.

You work yourself on his tongue and it doesn't take long for you to fall apart above him, squeezing his cock as your thighs smother his face. "Fuck!" You cry, nearly falling backwards as you cum on his face.

Javi chuckles breathlessly, knowing that if he was uncuffed, he would flip you over and push into you right this second. He loves how you cum shamelessly, loving orgasms and sex as much as he does and you don’t play coy or demure.

You pant as you relax above him, releasing his cock from your grip, and you shift off his face. “I’m gonna ride you now.” You tell him, moving to grab a condom from your nightstand. “Gonna need a new box.” You tease as you straddle his thighs, opening the condom to roll it down his cock.

“That’s because we fuck all the time.” Javi groans as you wrap your hand around him and roll the rubber down his length. He smirks. “You’re addicted to my cock.”

“Don’t hear you complaining, officer Peña.” You snort and shift closer until you’re positioning him at your pussy so you can sink down onto him. “Fuck. I am addicted.” You confess breathlessly as he stretches you out. “I love it.” You whimper, shuffling a little until your knees are digging in the mattress so you can start to move on top of him.

“You look good on my cock.” Javi praises breathless. “Feels even better.” He watches your tits bounce slightly and groans when you swivel your hips and clench down around him. “Fuck, one day-“ he pants. “One day I’m gonna feel you without the condom.”

“I’m on the pill. I just - I wasn’t sure what you wanted.” You confess, “you want to feel me bare? Fill me up? Cum inside me? Officer?” You coo as you lean closer, pressing your lips to his chin as you rock back onto him.

Javi groans and chases your lips, huffing out a curse when you pull away from his reach and he can’t drag you back. “Yes, fuck yes.” He hisses. “Want to feel you bare around my cock.”

You know it’s a rash decision but you’re lost in the lust and security that you take the pill like clockwork. You shift back and lift off his cock, pulling off the condom, and you moan as you notch him back at your entrance, slowly sinking down to feel all of him without the barrier between you.

Javi moans your name, his hands curling into fists and he curses that he can’t touch you. “Fuck baby, yes.” He groans. “Just like- fuck- move.” He begs.

You chuckle, loving how wrecked he looks, and you shake your head. You stay still on his cock and he tries to rock his hips but you clench your thighs to stay still. "Hermosa." He whines and you lean forward, pressing your lips to his, "fuck, I love to hear you beg. Now I want to hear you moan." You murmur and rock back onto his cock, starting a pace that makes you look like you're in the Kentucky Derby.

His toes curl in pleasure and his entire body tenses. “Fuck!” He yelps, wanting more and not sure that he can take it. You are perfect, tight and hot around him and like a vice when you roll your hips just the right way. You’re beautiful and he loves it.

You love how wrecked he looks, his eyes glazed over as you rock on top of him. “Feel so good, Javi, baby. Oh shit. Feel like you’re in my guts. I love this.” You pant, your palms slapping against his chest as you ride him.

He’s never been such a passive participant in sex but all he can do is let you ride him, his hips are planted against the bed. His cock twitching every time you slam back down on him. “Fuck you need to cum.” He begs. “Cum baby, I’m not gonna last.”

He’s so whiney and you love it, reaching down to rub your clit, and you moan his name. “Feel so good, baby. I’m gonna - shit. Oh - oh!” You cry out, clamping down on his cock and you soak him, loving how you feel every vein and ridge of his cock.

You clamp down around him and his feet curl in pleasure and he can’t help but rock his hips up. Your hips have stalled and you aren’t moving as your walls pulse around him. “Fuck baby, fuck, fuck.” He hisses, feeling his body pulling tight.

You want to see him fall apart, feel it inside you, so you grip the headboard over his head, stretching over his body. You slam your hips down against him, the sound filling the room and you lean in to kiss his jaw. “Cum for me, baby. Fill me up. Want you to cum inside me.”

It’s like he needed your permission. Rocking his hips up, your name is called out loudly as he buries his cock deep and paints your walls with his seed. Panting and whining as he rides out the best fucking orgasm he’s ever had. “Fuuuuuuuck.”

The sensation of his hot cum filling you up has your walls fluttering around him again, a soft cry escaping your lips while you grind back against him. “Oh God.” You pant, shifting to press your lips to his as his cock twitches inside you.

Javi takes control of the kiss even if he can’t pull you closer. His tongue sliding into your mouth possessively and his moans flowing into your mouth as he rides out his orgasm. Only tempering the kiss when you collapse against him in pleasure.

Panting against his jaw, your body is buzzing but you manage to shift off him, fumbling for the key you placed on the nightstand next to the cup of now melted ice. You reach up, wanting to release him from the cuffs, and manage to free him after some struggle to get the key in during your post orgasm haze.

Javi watches you fumble with the key, his smile soft and he lifts his head to kiss right above your breast. “I love you.” He murmurs softly.

You are surprised, eyes widening and you stop what you’re doing to look down at him. He stares back and you see the apprehension in his eyes until you grin, “I love you too.” You surge down to press your lips to his, “I love you.” You murmur between pecks. “Let me -” You manage to finish unlocking his hands, the handcuffs heavy as you set them down on the nightstand.

His arms go around you, pulling you close and rolling you onto your back so he is hovering over you. Caging you with his body. “You have been the best thing to happen to me.” He promises, kissing you again. He’s not a man who gets sappy or waxes eloquent poems or constantly says ‘I love you’ but he shows he cares and he is happy you feel the same way. Feeling like this is supposed to be.

You can’t stop smiling, sliding your fingers through his hair and down his shoulders, “I love you, baby. You’re the best man I’ve ever met.” You promise and sigh, feeling safe and warm in his arms. You can’t believe how lucky you are to have met him, to have him.

He kisses you again, rolling over and tucking you into his side. “Give me about ten minutes and I’ll show you how bad I can be.” He teases playfully, closing his eyes and sighing happily.

You giggle, caressing his chest, and you close your eyes. You never imagined you’d find someone like Javier and you can’t wait to see what the future holds for you. You hope he’s your person.

****

“Why are you nervous?” Javi chuckles as he holds your hand, pulling up to the small ranch house. “He’s going to love you.” It’s only two days later, but Javi knows that it’s the perfect time to introduce you to his dad. Wanting this to be permanent and let you get over the big ‘meet the family’ fear that you have.

You squeeze his hand, “I don’t want him to think - we got together so soon after you broke up with Lorraine and I just - I don’t want him to think less of me.” You confess with a shrug, “it’s, uh, it’s important that he likes me.” You bite your lip and look at his childhood home.

“Baby, he’s gonna love you.” He squeezes your hand and brings it up to kiss the back of it. “He never really liked Lorraine, to be honest.” He flashes you a grin. “So you’re already better.”

You chuckle, relaxing a little, and you let him open your door before you walk to the front door and Chucho opens it, a big smile on his face. “So you’re the reason my son can’t stop smiling nowadays.” He winks and Javi blushes, “Pa.” He says and Chucho tuts, “he’s never here but I can see why. He didn’t exaggerate your beauty.” He says and you fluster, reaching for his hand and he pulls you in for a hug. You tear up a little, reminded of your father and how long it’s been since you had a hug like this, and you hug him back. “Javi said you are a charmer. I guess that’s where he gets it.” You tease and Chucho chuckles, guiding you into his home, and you immediately feel at ease.

Javi smiles at the way his dad is flirting with you. He would barely talk to Lorraine and it’s just another indicator that he has made the right choice with you. “Let me get everyone a drink while you two talk.” He winks at you and goes into the kitchen.

You sit down on the sofa with Chucho and demand he tells you about Javier and he chuckles, “Oh, I have some stories.” He begins to tell you about a teenage Javier and you hear the phone ring.

Javi rolls his eyes as he picks up the phone. “Peña residence.” He answers like he has his entire life. “Javi.” He groans and turns towards the kitchen door to make sure you don’t hear him. “Why the fuck are you calling, Lorraine?” He demands quietly.

“I’m surprised I got you. I’ve heard all about your little diner skank that you’ve been fucking. My friends have seen you around town. Told me all about your little dates. You never took me bowling.” She huffs and Javier rolls his eyes, “what do you want?” He demands again and she snorts, “I was calling to tell you I’m pregnant. I just found out. Went to the doctor to make sure and I’m about ten weeks.”

Javi’s stomach drops, feeling like he’s been punched in the gut. “Bullshit.” He huffs, “we used a condom every time.” Lorraine scoffs. “You know it’s not one hundred percent.” She reminds him and he shoves his hand through his hair. “So what? You need money for an abortion?” He asks, hoping that she wants to get rid of the baby.

She scoffs, “I’m not getting rid of it. I’m keeping the baby.” She declares, “and I want us to meet. Try and work this out. I know your dad will kill you if you don’t stand by me, do the right thing. You need to take responsibility for your actions, Javier.” Lorraine announces and hears his heavy breathing through the phone.

Fuck. Javi’s eyes close and he screws his face up in anger and confusion. She's right, Chucho would kill him. “Goddamnit.” He hisses, angry at himself because he’s going to have to break up with you. “Yeah, fine.” He spits out. “Tomorrow.” He hangs up the phone and sighs.

You are laughing at something Chucho says when Javi walks back into the room, looking a little pale. “Everything okay, babe?” You ask and frown when he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah.” He murmurs and hands you a coke and his pop a beer. “Everything’s good.” He shrugs. “Got asked to take a double shift tomorrow.”

You nod, not sure if you believe him, but you can ask him later and you watch him as you sip your drink. He’s tense, like when he’s had a bad shift, but you try to focus on Chucho, wanting to make a good impression. Soon enough, you’re saying goodbye to Chucho with a promise to see him for dinner and Javier guides you to his truck to drive you home and you’re hoping he stays the night again since you don’t have an early shift. “What’s wrong, baby?” You ask, reaching out to caress his arm as he drives, “you seem so tense. You need a blowjob?” You tease, sliding your hand down to his lap.

“No.” He grabs your hand before you can touch his cock and laces his fingers with yours. “No, I’m good, baby.” He promises you. “I just have a headache.” He’s fucking praying that this is some kind of horrible joke or desperate attempt to get him back and he can tell her to fuck off and then explain everything to you. “I’m sorry I’m not better company tonight.”

You stare at him until you nod, “it’s okay. I have some Advil if you want.” You offer but he shakes his head, “I think I need an early night. Too many damn long shifts.” He says and you bring his hand up to kiss the back of his. “Go home and get some sleep. I’ll see you later.” You promise, not wanting him to get sick because he’s working too hard. He pulls up outside your house and you shuffle closer, leaning in to press your lips to his cheek. “It was great to meet your dad. I really like him. Good thing when I love his son.” You smirk and nudge your nose against his when he turns towards you.

“I love you.” The gruff words come out a little desperate, like he wants you to remember that in the future. He kisses you, devouring your mouth in one last kiss like it will be his last and he hates to break away. “Goodnight baby.”

You peck his lips, “goodnight, handsome.” You pat his chest and grab your purse, shifting out of his truck and you make your way to your front door, feeling his eyes on you as you unlock your door. You wave to him before you step inside and he sits there for a second until he finally pulls away. He needs to speak to Lorraine.

****

It takes him two days to call you. Swallowing harshly as the phone connects, his heart leaps when he hears your voice but he hates what he has to do. “Hey, it’s me.” He announces. “Hey baby, I’ve tried to call you.” You pout softly, and he closes his eyes. “Yeah I know. Listen - I, this isn’t working out. Okay?” He tells you. “I’m not gonna string you along. So yeah.”

You feel like you’ve been punched in the gut when you hear his words. You choke, trying to get your voice to work, “I- I don’t understand. What’s - why?” You blink, trying to stop the tears. “It’s just too much. I don’t want anything too heavy. I want to have fun.” He lies and you frown, “I didn’t want - I didn’t - okay.” You choke on a sob, “uh, I guess this is goodbye.” He hums, “yeah. Goodbye.” He says your name and the line goes dead. You sob, letting the phone hang from the cord and you collapse on the wall.

****

“Why the fuck do you want to go here?” Javi protests, pulling away from Lorraine as she steers him towards the dinner. “What does it matter?” She smirks at him and reaches for his hand again. “You’re through with her, right? So she’s just a waitress.” Javi shakes his head. “Goddamnit Lorraine.” He hisses and she pouts, stroking her flat stomach. “Don’t curse, it’s not good for the baby.” She’s been smug about their relationship, happy that he is back with her, even if she knows that he is unhappy.

You are clearing a table when the bell above the door rings and your eyes widen when you see Javier and Lorraine. “Son of a bitch.” You mutter, unable to believe he’s back with her. He told you stories about how she would bully him into working for her dad, or calling in sick. She is controlling and you can’t believe he’s gone back to her. Maybe you were just a bit of fun. Your coworker offers to take the table but you shake your head, knowing you can’t run and hide. You walk over to their table and set some menus down. “Can I get you anything to drink?” You ask after you introduce yourself, feeling Javier’s eyes on you as you look at Lorraine.

“Baby, what should I have?” She asks coyly. “You’ve been here so much more than I have.” She flutters her lashes at Javi and he huffs, pulling his hand away when she reaches for him and leans back. “Just order a fucking drink.” He hisses, wishing that she had chosen any other restaurant in Laredo, but he’s sure she’s done this on purpose.

“I can’t have coffee. Maybe decaf.” She hums and you nod, “I’ll get you a decaf.” wondering if she has sleeping issues. You grab Javier a coffee without him asking and set them both down on the table after you breathe deeply at the coffee pots. “Can I get you anything to eat?” You ask, trying not to cry at how insane this situation is. “There’s a lot of things I can’t have but I’m starving. I’m eating for two.” She grins, placing her hand on her lower stomach. Your eyes widen and you nearly drop your pad, feeling like your heart has been crushed and you finally look at Javier.

Javi wants to just disappear, his eyes find yours and he begs you to understand. “Ten weeks.” He chokes out, wanting you to know that he didn’t cheat on you. This is a fucked up situation and he wishes it was you sitting opposite him.

You swallow harshly, knowing he got her pregnant just before he met you and it stings. You want to crawl under the table and sob but you won't give Lorraine the satisfaction. "Co-congrats." You offer him a weak smile and she beams, "we are so happy." Javier doesn't look happy but you tap your pen on your pad, "food?" You choke and Lorraine hums, ordering the oatmeal and Javier orders the All American just like he did the first time you met him. "Coming right up." You squeak and slam the ticket down for Adrian who offers you a look that says "I told you so" and you rush out the back door, covering your mouth as you try to not cry.

“Where are you going?” Javi is halfway out of his seat when Lorraine grabs his arm. “I’m going to the bathroom.” He hisses, jerking his arm away from her. “Quit being a bitch.” He turns around and strides towards the back door, bypassing the bathrooms.

The door opens and you are leaning against the wall when you see him walk towards you. "Don't" You plead, shaking your head. "Don't make this worse. Just go back in there and - and be with her." You plead, knowing that hearing his excuses will make you cry.

Javi stops and takes a breath. “I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen.” He promises you. “I’m so fucking sorry, hermosa.” He whispers before he turns back around and leaves like you want him to.

You watch him go until he heads back inside and you tilt your head back, refusing to let the tears fall and give Lorraine the satisfaction. You know he didn't cheat on you and that's what makes this worse. You love him but he has to be there for his child. Javier isn't the kind of man to walk away from responsibility and you know that's what he is with her. Time wasn't on your side and that's tragic. You compose yourself and walk back in, grabbing the food from the hot plate and you set it down. "Enjoy." You say flatly and walk off, leaving them to eat. When they are done, you remove the plates - Javier's food is hardly touched- and set the check down, not saying a word. Javier grabs his wallet and sets down more cash than the check. You don't walk over there to grab it, watching as Lorraine makes a show of getting out the booth and placing her hand on her stomach like she's seven months gone. "Thanks so much." Lorraine smirks, "maybe we will be back here with our baby for breakfast after church. We will see you then." She chuckles and grabs Javier, his eyes meeting yours and he nods before she is dragging him from the diner. You don't see Javier again. You decided, just before Javier's wedding day, to go on a trip. Get out of town and escape from the news that your love had gotten married. You don't hear the news that he didn't marry Lorraine until you return. When you're back. you hear that Javier had left to go join the DEA. Timing was never on your side.

****

“Where do you want to go eat?” Chucho asks and Javi shrugs. “Don’t know too many places open on Thanksgiving.” He answers, although he immediately thinks of the diner. He’s driven by there a few times in the days since he’s been home, but he’s never stopped in. “Well, damnit, I’m hungry.” His dad grumbles and Javi shakes his head. “Come on.” He huffs, grabbing his jacket. “Since you didn’t go grocery shopping, let’s go somewhere. Maybe they are still open on Thanksgiving.”

You smile at the old man who gives you a large tip for the holiday. You shove the money in the tip jaw to be split between you and Adrian when the bell rings. You turn around and your eyes widen when you see Chucho followed by a man you haven't seen in years. You inhale sharply, walking over to them. "Chucho. It's good to see you." You smile at the old man who you've seen at the store and around town several times. He never tried to justify his son's behavior and you never held malice towards him. "Happy Thanksgiving." You say and glance around, "pick any table. I'll get you some menus."

Javi stares, unable to believe that you are here. It’s like he’s dreaming like he has so many times before, coming into the diner to find you waiting for him. He murmurs your name and nods. “Good, uh, to see you.” He tells you, his heart pounding but you have to hate him, or at least think he’s an asshole. He is an asshole for what he did to you.

You finally look at him and God, he's still so fucking handsome. He has more lines on his face, but he still makes your heart pound. You hadn't heard about a child being born so you don't know what happened but you had heard Lorraine is now married to some big wig oil guy living in Dallas with two kids. "Good to see you." You murmur, turning around to grab some menus.

Javi’s eyes drop down to your ass before he looks away guiltily. He doesn’t need to be eying you like he had a chance, you’re probably married and have a couple of kids by now. “You shouldn’t have let that one get away.” Chucho tells him, having watched the way his son watched you. “Colombia might have been different.” Javi sighs and leans back. “Yeah, I know.” He grunts, glancing back at you as you come back with the menus, “believe me.”

You set the menus down, “coffee?” You ask and both men nod. You walk off to grab the pot and two cups, hating how your stomach feels like lead around Javier. It’s been years but you still think about him. You’ve been in and out of relationships but no one ever stuck in your heart like Javier did. Ridiculous considering you were together for two months. “What can I get you to eat?” You ask, grabbing your pad.

Chucho orders the Thanksgiving special and looks towards his son. Javi doesn’t even glance at the menu, too busy staring at you. “The All American if you still have it.” He tells you softly, glancing at your hand and noticing that you aren’t wearing a ring. You might just not wear one at work, but he’s selfishly hoping you are single even though you deserve someone to love and worship you.

Your heart twists at the familiar order and you nod, “hash browns, not grits.” You remember and he offers you a soft smile that makes your throat tighten. “That’ll be right out.” You nod and take the menus, handing the ticket to Adrian. “She owns the place now.” Chucho tells his son, not having spoken to him about you until today.

Javi’s brow shoots up and looks over at your back, watching as you methodically organize the condiments to bring over to them. “She deserves it.” He murmurs, thinking that you deserved a lot of nice things in life. “How often do you come here?” He asks.

“Couple of times a month when I want breakfast.” Chucho confesses, “I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t your business. She’s a good girl and I think you made a huge mistake letting Lorraine drag you along but it wasn’t my life. She is single, in case you were wondering. No husband or kids.” Chucho reveals quietly, tapping his fingers on the table.

“Pa.” Javi hates how his entire body thrills at the news that you are single. “She hates me. She has to fucking hate me after what I did.” He reminds his dad. “There’s not a chance in hell I would ever have another chance with her.” He watches as you turn back towards him and swallows. “Shit.”

You set the condiments down, feeling Javier’s eyes on you, and you smile at Chucho, “it’s good to see you again.” You tell his father, “your food will be out soon.” You walk away from the table, feeling Javier’s eyes on you and you reach for the menus, deciding to clean them off while you wait for their food.

“The least you could do is apologize.” Chucho huffs, making Javi’s shoulders round slightly. He knows that he owes you an apology and he sighs after a moment, tapping the table and standing up to walk over to you. “Can I talk to you?” He asks, sure that you will tell him to fuck off.

You glance at the empty diner and nod, gesturing for Javier to walk out the back door with you. You will let him give you his explanation, curious about why he didn’t end up marrying Lorraine. “Talk.” You order when you’re outside.

He’s nervous, rubbing his hands on his jeans and chuckles slightly. “Uh, so- uh, I owe you an apology.” He starts off. “I’m sorry. Lorraine called me, that day you met Pa and she told me she was pregnant.” He explains, knowing that it’s no excuse. “I was - shit, I was so angry at myself, because she wanted to get married for the baby, and I fucking just knew I had to marry that bitch.” He sighs. “And?” You prompt. “The night before the wedding she claimed she ‘had a miscarriage’.” He snorts. “I knew then that she had been faking the entire thing. Her cousin confessed. She knew we were together. Someone had see us out in town and she lied because she knew I wouldn’t shirk my responsibilities.”

You cross your arms, letting him sweat. You’ve had a lot of time to think about what happened. You huff, “did you not get her to take a pregnancy test?” You ask and he shakes his head, “she had a scan and a doctor’s test result.” You snort, “she’s inventive. Smarter than I gave her credit for.” You rub your forearms, “you really hurt me. I thought we had something. I really loved you. You devastated me and I had to work hard to recover from that, which is insane because we only dated for two months. You’ve been on my mind during every date I’ve been on. Compared every man I’ve been in a relationship with to you. I hated you for so long because you haunted me.” You shake your head and lower your arms, stepping back.

Javi sighs softly and doesn’t reach for you. “It’s safe to say you haunted me too.” He admits. “I- I came by your house.” He confesses softly. “The day I- my wedding day. I came to tell you how stupid I had been. How I wasn’t marrying her and that if you could take an idiot back, I would love you forever.” He flashes you a rueful grin. “You weren’t home that day. Or any day for the week that I came to your door.” He snorts. “Almost thought you had sold the house and moved.”

You stare at him, seeing the truth in his eyes, "I left town. Went away so I didn't show up at the church and try to get you to call it off." You chuckle humorlessly and shake your head. "I loved you so much I even considered telling you I'd be there for your child with Lorraine but I didn't want to be selfish and break up a family. I left and when I came back, I heard you'd joined the DEA. figured something had happened to the baby and you'd left Lorraine."

“Never was a baby, just a woman jealous that I had moved on.” He shakes his head. “I haven’t even dated since then.” You snort in disbelief and he nods. “I’m serious. I- fuck-“ he shuffles slightly in embarrassment. “I paid for sex when I needed it.”

Your eyes widen, "you paid for sex? You could've gotten sex for free every day night here." You chuckle and he shakes his head, "did it for intel on Escobar and for company, I guess." He shrugs and you smirk, "guessing you learned a few things down in Colombia?"

Javi smirks back at you and nods. “I have.” He admits. “Gave me a discount if I made them cum more than once.” He jokes.

"You must've gotten it nearly free." You playfully roll your eyes, remembering how good he was. "I've missed you. You look - you look like you've got the world on your shoulders." You observe, "not as carefree as I remember you."

“Colombia was tough.” He admits, shuffling slightly. “I’ve missed you too. A lot.” He had thought of you every day but figured that might be a little creepy. “You look good. Happy. You bought the place?”

“Yeah. Took some equity from my parent’s house to buy it when the old owner wanted to sell. I couldn’t imagine working anywhere else and I love it. It’s home for me.” You smile, glancing back at the diner. “I’m happy but not as happy as the time I spent with you.”

“Me neither.” Javi shuffles again and looks down at his feet before peering back at you. “I have no right to ask, and tell me to go to hell if you want, but how about I take you on a date?” He offers. “You might find I’m a miserable son of a bitch and the best thing I ever did for you was leave.” He shrugs. “And then you’ll at least get dinner out of it.”

You are shocked and bite your lip, uncertain of giving him a chance after how much he hurt you but you remember it wasn’t him, it was Lorraine. You nod, offering him a soft smile, “I’d like that. Just - just don’t hurt me again.” You plead softly, “you want to go get your food? It should be ready.”

“Only if you sit down with us?” He asks, smiling in relief that you are willing to give him another chance. Those two months were the best of his life and he still loves you now. Your memory helped him through some tough times and you didn’t even know it.

You nod, “okay.” You open the back door and Javier follows you inside. Adrian has the food ready so you grab it, carrying it over to the table, and Javier sits down, winking at you. You head over to grab a cup of coffee, “Adrian. You can take a break.” You tell the cook who grunts and eyes Javier through the window. You make your way back to the table with your cup of coffee and you take a seat next to Javier. Chucho’s eyes widen and you smile, flustered by the knowing look on the old man’s face.

“You apologize?” Chucho huffs and Javi rolls his eyes. “Yes, pa, I apologized. I have a lot to make up for.” He glances at you and smirks. “But I’ll grovel as long as I need to.”

You look at Chucho, “he has a lot of grovelling to do.” You tease and Chucho nods, “he absolutely does.” He raises his eyebrows at his son as he cuts up his food. After they eat, you clear the plates and Chucho goes to take out his wallet, “it’s on the house. Happy Thanksgiving.” You smile and Chucho shakes his head, “she’s always giving me free food.” He opens his wallet and pulls out some cash, “get yourself something nice or put it in the tip jar.” He says and it’s clear this is a routine the two of you have.

“How long are you going to be open for?” Javi asks after Chucho makes a comment about being out in the truck and leaving his son behind.

You glance at the clock, “not too much longer. I like to shut earlier on Thanksgiving nowadays.” You admit, “give Adrian time with his boyfriend and I was planning on having a bath.” You chuckle, “got myself some new bath bombs.”

Javi frowns for a moment before he understands. “Oh, those little fizzy things, right?” He asks, not having taken too many baths. He mainly sticks with showers. “That’s good. Hopefully you’ll be able to unwind.” He comments. “You still have the day after Thanksgiving off?” He asks. “Or does the boss work all the time?”

“I have Jean opening tomorrow so the boss has the day off. I was thinking about doing some Black Friday shopping. Unless someone else would like to do some groveling?” You hum, tilting your head at Javier.

He grins at you. “I think I should probably start, don’t you think?” He asks, shrugging slightly. “I can hold your bags if you want.”

“You hate shopping.” You remember and Javier chuckles, “exactly. Part of the grovelling process.” He winks and you smirk, looking at Chucho who is grinning. “Very well, Peña. Pick me up tomorrow at 10am. Bring your badge. I think it could come in handy in standoffs for the good stuff.” You wink and Javier snorts, “it’s a date.” You smile, “yeah. It’s a date.” You murmur softly, heart thumping again.

****

You hadn’t been lying when you said you wanted to go shopping. You’ve dragged him to every store in town, but Javi hasn’t complained. He’s let you shop and given you his opinion as you look through different items. The grin you throw at him occasionally tells him that you are testing him, but he just smiles back and offers to hold whatever bag you are carrying.

When you pull up outside your house, you turn towards Javier. He’s told you some things about Colombia during the day and you can see how haunted he is by his time there. You haven’t pushed but he’s not the Javier you knew, he’s deeper, darker, but there’s times where you see the funny, lighthearted Javier you loved and you know you’ve changed too. You still love him but now there’s more to love, no matter how dark those parts may be. You turn to look at him, “I think I need help taking all these bags into the house.” You hum, grabbing your purse.

“Of course.” He climbs out of the car and opens the back door. You’ve also got a ton of shit in the trunk, but he doesn’t complain as he starts to pile bags onto his arms. Hopefully he can get it all in two trips. Maybe three with that new coffee maker you bought at Belk.

You grab some bags and make your way to your front door, unlocking it, and you punch in your alarm code while Javier walks in behind you to place your bags down. You walk into the house to turn on the lights while Javier finishes his last trip for your things. He shuts your front door and you walk over to him, “thank you for doing that. Very good groveling.” You tease, placing your palms on his chest.

He huffs out a laugh and rolls his eyes at you. “At least you’re having fun with this.” He tells you. He licks his lips and his eyes slide down to your mouth before he looks up again. “You need me to do anything else for you?” He asks, voice dropping slightly.

You bite your lip, knowing you shouldn’t rush into anything but you’ve lost so much time with him thanks to Lorraine. He left to go fight the bad guys in Colombia and you can’t blame him for doing what he thought was best. “You could kiss me.” You murmur and he nods, leaning in to press his lips to yours.

Kissing you is like coming home. Javi groans as you soften against him, folding you up in his arms and deepening the kiss. Almost fearful of being rejected he takes his time and slowly slides his tongue against your lips to beg for entrance.

You eagerly open your mouth, your tongue sweeping against his and his groan vibrates against your lips. The kiss makes your heart flutter and you slide your hands to cup his cheeks, pressing yourself against him and you’re brought back to that first night you slept with Javi.

Kissing you know is just as addictive as it had been so long ago. Maybe more so because he knows exactly what he has. He curls you into him, eager to taste every bit of your mouth and overwhelm you both with the passion the is mounting.

You can tell he’s changed. His kiss is harsher, more desperate, and you can sense the turmoil behind it compared to the playfulness of so many years ago. You let him back you against your front door, your fingers working on the buttons of his shirt while he hardens against your thigh. You whine when he pulls back from your lips, kissing down your neck while his hands fumble with the button of your jeans. You moan when his fingers slide under the denim, finding your clit, and you manage to get his shirt open, trailing your hands along his chest.

He needs to pull away and ask if you are okay with this, if you want him, but he can’t. Too afraid of rejection right now as his fingers caress your folds and rub circles on your clit. He promised you he would grovel and he huffs to himself as he kisses down your chest and mouths at your breast over your shirt and bra, biting sharply before he’s sinking down to his knees in front of you.

You look down at him in surprise, shocked that he’s on his knees, working on pulling your jeans down. “What are you doing?” You ask breathlessly and he looks up at you, smirking, “I said I’d grovel on my knees.” You chuckle, nodding as you step out of your jeans and he hooks his fingers in your panties, dragging them down. “I’ve missed you.” You gasp when he leans in to kiss your thigh.

“Missed you too.” He groans. “Missed this pussy. Your taste.” He presses his nose to the thatch of hair between your thighs and inhales. “Your smell. You have the best fucking smell, baby. Missed your laugh. Your smile.” Everything that he lists is punctuated with kisses around your pelvis and thighs. “The way you would curl against me to sleep.” He looks up at you. “I wasn’t lying to you, I loved you. I still love you.” He promises. “I never stopped.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you look down at him. No one has ever compared to him and you know you'll always love him. You run your fingers through his hair, "me neither. Always loved you." You promise and he leans in to slide his tongue through your folds. "Fuck." You pant as he flicks over your clit, his hands grabbing your ass to tilt your hips. You lift your leg onto his shoulder and you whimper when he wraps his arm around your thigh, burying his face in your cunt.

He’s sloppy and eager, rushing to make you moan his name again. He has dreamed of that sound for years. Closing his eyes and humming as his tongue flicks over your clit again and moves lower to push inside your wet walls. Drowning in your essence happily as he grovels before you.

It's been so long since you were worshiped like this and you tilt your head against the door, closing your eyes. "Fuck, Peña. Missed that tongue. You've gotten better." You observe, loving how he laps at you and it doesn't take long to work you up. You're soon panting, chest heaving, and your thigh shakes when he sucks on your clit. "Oh fuck!" You yelp, stomach twisting as you fall apart on his tongue.

His hands grip your hips, keeping you in place as your knees threaten to buckle and he moans into your cunt. Working you through it with determination until you’re whimpering and then he’s pulling back with a satisfied grin. “Still tastes so good.” He praises, kissing your hip.

You drag him up from the floor, lowering your leg and you press your lips to his while you push his shirt off his shoulders. "Bed. Want you in my bed." You order, letting his shirt drop to the floor as you grab his hand and drag him to the same bedroom he knew those years ago.

He chuckles as he lets you take him wherever you want to go. “I want to be in your bed.” He promises, reaching out with his free hand and snagging your waist to drag you closer and pressing his lips to your again. Sliding his hands up your back to unclip your bra beneath your t-shirt.

You let him pull your shirt over your head after he breaks the kiss, dragging your bra down your arms, and you toss them to the floor as you stumble into your bedroom. "Fuck, you've gotten more handsome." You observe when he pushes you onto your bed and you bounce while he works on taking off his jeans as he kicks off his shoes.

“That’s you.” He huffs. “Prettier than the day I met you.” He kneels on the bed after he wraps his hand around his cock and pumps it. “Fuck- I - I don’t have a condom.” He groans, eyes slipping closed. “I’ve been tested, but I-“

"I'm on the pill. I'm clean. I trust you. Please Jav. I need you." You know it's reckless but you want to feel him again. "If not, I have a condom." You add, wanting him to be comfortable and you bat his hand away to pump his cock.

“Fuck, you know I want to feel you.” He groans and rolls his hips into your firm grip. “Lay back and spread your legs, baby.” He begs. “Let me fuck you.”

You nod, spreading your legs, and he shuffles closer. When he notches himself at your pussy, your eyes flutter closed when he pushes into you. “Look at me.” He demands gruffly and you whimper, opening your eyes as he shifts to hover over you. You immediately cup his cheeks, bringing his mouth down to yours. You shouldn’t forgive him for breaking your heart but you need to. He was trying to do the right thing which was being with the mother of his child but you know he didn’t love her, he loved you.

Javi gives you everything in the kiss. Everything he has emotionally. Pouring himself into you as he slowly inches into your body. Sliding into your heat and feeling like he's come home again.

You caress his shoulders and down his back, loving how he feels. Your walls flutter around him as he stretches you out and you close your eyes, “love you, baby.” You murmur, feeling surrounded by him and you love how he starts to move. He feels more experienced and stronger but you don’t mind.

“Feel so good, so perfect.” He grunts, trying to keep from thrusting too deep or too hard so quickly. You probably haven’t had sex in a while and he doesn’t want to make even a second of this uncomfortable.

You can see how tense he is with the way he clenches his jaw and you want him to fuck you, to claim you. “Need more. Want you to make me yours.” You order, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Once you give him permission, Javi lets himself go. Snapping his hips harshly and filling you with hard strokes that gave him grunting as you clung to him. “Fuck, fuck.” He hisses. “Need this, need you.”

He takes your breath away as he thrusts into you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Your heels dig into his ass and your nails scratch down his back. “Javi!” You cry, watching his nose flare as he rocks into you. “I- shit - so close. Keep - just like that.”

He grunts, it’s all he can do right now as he rocks into you. Feeling like your walls gripping him is his salvation and losing himself in the soul searing pleasure.

Your walls flutter around him as you are pushed higher and higher. His lips press against your neck, shifting his body to kiss down and take your nipple into his mouth. It’s hot and he bites down, making you react immediately. You clamp down onto his cock, your moan of his name echoing in your room as you soak him.

It’s what he needed to feel. The hit clench of your walls around him, the slick drenching his cock. Javi groans your name, pushing deep as his thrusts falter and he starts to pulse inside you. Closing his eyes and your name becomes a prayer on his lips.

You kiss everywhere you can reach as he twitches inside you, painting your walls. He pants when he stills above you and you caress his back, your body buzzing with emotion. Tears sting in your eyes and you sniff, making him jerk his head up to look at you, “did I hurt you?” He asks immediately and you shake your head, “no. No. I’m just - I’m happy.” You murmur, “so happy that you’re here.” You confess and he kisses your lips, nudging his nose against yours before he kisses your forehead. “I’m not leaving.” He promises and you caress his cheek, closing your eyes. “I’m home, baby.” He vows.

****

“Javi!” You call out, “can you get your Pa another beer?” You ask and Javier comes back from the kitchen to set a beer down on the table for his father and he sets your glass of wine down on the table. “Thanks babe.” You peck his lips when he leans in to kiss you and his head caresses the baby that you cradle. “How is he?” He asks and you smile, looking down at the baby. “Fed and ready for a nap with his daddy. Mama needs her wine. Good thing I have milk stored.” You chuckle and you adjust the baby in your arms to slide him into Javier’s arms so you can tuck your breast away.

Chucho looks away to be polite and Javier carries the baby into his room, laying him down in his crib. He watches his son for a moment and caresses his cheek, grabbing the baby monitor. He walks back into the dining room and sets the monitor down, picking up his beer, “the food looks delicious, baby.” He says and you smile, “Javier did most of the work today. Adrian helped me prep. We split the cooking so he could take some home to his boyfriend.” You confess and Chucho hums, “it looks incredible, mija.” Javier raises his beer, “happy Thanksgiving.” He toasts and you clink your wine glass against his bottle and Chucho’s bottle. “To the day we met.” You toast back and Javier smiles, leaning over to kiss you softly. This Thanksgiving is very different from past ones. No longer hanging around a diner for a breakfast during his shift, this year he’s spending Thanksgiving with his Pa, his son, and his beautiful wife. He’s truly blessed.

#pedro pascal #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña smut #javier peña imagine #javier peña fanfiction

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covenofagatha · 11 hours ago

Note

Okay hear me out Agatha x Reader age gap fic. The reader and Agatha have been together for awhile I was thinking like she used to be your college professor before you graduated, The reader has a monthly night out scheduled with friends from school but Agatha like usual declines in your offer to join you all. Agatha just doesn’t have interest in the “young people bars” and hanging out with old students is strange to her, though it’s a little upsetting you don’t push too much before relenting and going on your way. A little bit into the night despite your efforts in avoiding said persons advances you’re being continuously hit on by either a stranger in the bar or a friend from the group that is your choice! But the resolve would be Agatha showing up cause she felt guilty about always declining, her witnessing and then defusing the situation (jealously obviously). I absolutely love possessive Agatha and love everything you’ve written so far! Whether it ends in smut is also completely up to you!!!

Hope you enjoy and thank you for the very detailed request!! This will be a two-parter and the next part will be based on a request I got about jealous reader x Professor Agatha.

A lesson in jealousy (Part 1)

Agatha gets jealous when she finds you at a bar and a guy is already talking to you.

Word count: 2100

Tags: marking, jealousy, making out, slight thigh grinding

“I was thinking of ordering pizza for tonight?” Agatha muses, already looking at you when you turn your head to face her.

You’re sitting on the couch in her office, nose buried in a book for one of your other classes. Agatha was your professor two years ago and there had been a spark, at least on your end, so you had kept in touch.

It wasn’t until a year ago when you had bridged the gap between a professional relationship and something more when you had kissed her one night after getting drinks at a bar across town.

You had immediately pulled back, apologizing incessantly, but much to your surprise, she had dragged you back in for more.

That night was the first of many that you spent in her bed.

Although she was no longer your teacher, you still attended the college that she worked at, so there was a bit of a gray area. Meaning, you two had to keep it under wraps.

“Oh, sorry,” you say, finally answering Agatha’s question. “I’m going out with my friends tonight. It’s our monthly bar trivia thing that we always do. I think I told you.” She hums and you frown. “What?”

Agatha shrugs. “Seems like we haven’t had a quiet night in awhile, that’s all.”

“You could always come tonight,” you offer hopefully. Her nose wrinkles and she raises an eyebrow and you know why she’s being like this. “You could just happen to show up and I’ll just happen to see you and I’ll invite you to join our team. It’ll be fun!”

And yet you know her answer before she even says it. “That’s not really my scene, baby.” You pout and slouch down further into the couch. She has never once taken you up on an invitation, even though you practically beg her every time. She rolls her eyes exasperatedly. It’s an old game for both of you. “Come on, hon, you know I have no interest in going to a bar with a bunch of college kids on a Friday night where everyone will be drinking and making noise and I taught most of your friends. I just think that it will be weird.”

A flash of anger bubbles up to protect you from the hurt you feel deep down. Would it kill her to do something for you? “I’m also a college kid who will be out drinking and ‘making noise’ and you were my professor two years ago. Is that weird?”

She sighs heavily and pushes her chair back, patting her thighs. She wants you to come over, but you grit your teeth and don’t give in. “Of course not. That’s not what I meant, obviously. Just spending my Friday evening with a bunch of college kids isn’t what I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”

You stand up, shoving your books and laptop in your bag and Agatha scoffs and says your name. You meet her eyes, disappointment written all over your face. It kills you to show her how much her rejection hurts, but you’re tired of it.

“Come here, please,” she says softly. You grumble but obey. You slide off your backpack and sit on her laps, tensely putting your arms around her neck. Despite how mad you are, you still fiddle with her strands on her nape that aren’t in her bun. She leans in to kiss your lips but you don’t let it go any further than a press of her mouth against yours. You won’t give in that easily.

“You never come,” you whine.

She tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “I know, sweetheart. I just worry it might be risky for us to be seen out in public like that. Why don’t you come over after and we can have a movie night or something? I’ll take you to a bar tomorrow night, I promise. Just the two of us.”

You can see there’s no use trying to fight her on this. No matter what you say, she won’t come with you and you’d rather not have to open up and tell her how you want to just spend a night with the most important people in your life: Agatha and your best friends. You also feel a little insecure about being so young. She is over twice your age and you worry that sometimes you aren’t enough for her, or that she thinks you’re too immature. “Okay,” you say, voice small.

She squeezes your waist and gives you another peck. “That’s my girl. Don’t come over too late and I’ll make it worth your while.” She winks and you force a smile and climb off her lap.

“I’ll see you later, Agatha.”

“Hon, you don’t have to leave right now,” she calls but you’re already walking to the door. You wave a hand as a goodbye and you moodily walk back to your dorm.

You sulk the rest of the day and debate whether or not you even want to go out to the bar, but ultimately decide that you deserve it. You don’t need Agatha to have a good time, as much as you’d like her.

“There she is! It’s been awhile!” Natasha exclaims when you get to their table and claps a hand on your back. You wince but pull her in for a hug. You’ve been swamped with homework and when you do have free time, it’s spent with Agatha, so you have barely seen your friends in the past month.

“Sorry, I’ve been so busy,” you mumble while greeting Wanda and Maria, also at the table.

“First round is on you for neglecting us!” Wanda says and you laugh and happily go to the bar to order beers for the group.

“What can I get you?” The bartender asks when you finally make your way through the crowd.

“Four Pilsners, please,” you almost have to shout. Someone next to you bumps into you roughly and you jump.

“Oh shit, sorry.” A guy about your age turns around, with shaggy dark hair and blue eyes. Something about his features is so familiar.

“You’re good,” you say. “Do I know you?”

He stares intently at your face, trying to place you. He snaps his fingers. “Professor Harkness’s class, freshman year. Something about witchcraft. I sat in the row in front you. You were like the only one who actually knew what they were talking about. I think you were her favorite by a long shot.”

You blush at hearing that someone else picked up on Agatha liking you. “I don’t know if I’d say that,” you say coyly, smiling a little at the thought of the older woman.

“I’m James. So, uh,” the boy says, sliding a hand nonchalantly around your waist. You freeze. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone at a bar?”

“I’m not alone,” you quickly say, stepping back so his hand falls off, and you point to the table with your friends. “We’re here for trivia night.”

His face lights up and he motions toward a different table with a group of guys. “We are too, but they all suck. Can I join your team?”

“Um-” You’re trying to figure out how to let him down gently when the bartender puts down the four beers in front of you. You reach for your wallet but James slaps a $20 on the counter.

“I got it,” he says proudly and then before you can protest, he grabs two of the beers and you follow with the other drinks, dumbfounded, as he walks over to your table. Your friends give you quizzical looks but you just shrug tiredly. You can’t find it in yourself to care that much right now.

The host of the trivia game comes around to each table and hands out the paper for answers and a pen. He asks the first question: when is Taylor Swift’s birthday.

You immediately say the answer and James pats his hand on your shoulder but it turns into more of a rub. Your eyes widen and your friends bite back a smile.

“I’m actually seeing someone,” you say and take his hand off of you. Your friends look even more surprised than he does. Even though you’ve been dating Agatha for close to a year now, you’ve been really secretive and change the topic whenever your love life comes up with them.

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that,” he says, raising his arms like he’s trying to show you that he’s harmless. He moves to touch you again but a hand darts out and grabs his wrist. You turn and your jaw falls open.

It’s Agatha, and she is positively fuming.

“I think she said she’s taken,” she growls and James backs off.

“Professor Harkness,” he stutters. “I wasn’t trying to do anything, we were just having a good time.” He turns to you, eyes pleading. It’s almost funny how scary he still finds the older woman. “Tell her, we were just talking.”

You wish he had said anything but that. Agatha whirls onto you. “Were you?” She hisses and you gulp. She scoffs as you protest and storms out of the bar.

Ignoring the looks from your friends, you chase after her down the alleyway.

“Agatha, wait,” you yell. “He kept hitting on me and I was trying to let him down gently but he kept trying. I told him that I was with someone else! I’m sorry.”

She spins on her heel and advances toward you. You stop like a deer in headlights and she shoves you against the brick wall before you can think. Her hands grab your wrists and pin them to the wall. You struggle futilely.

“Is this your pathetic attempt of getting back at me?” You furrow your brows in confusion and she laughs sardonically. “I was feeling so guilty earlier. You looked so sad when I didn’t want to come and I thought that maybe I could try, for you. I always say no and what a nice surprise it would be for my girlfriend if I showed up. And then what do I find? My pet is flirting with someone else. Not just someone, a sleazy college boy who would probably cum after two pumps because he’s so incompetent.” She’s snarling, her face an inch away from yours, and you hate how turned on you are.

You’ve always liked it when she got possessive over you.

“I didn’t want him,” you say levelly. “I only want you.”

She huffs like it’s a joke. “Sure you don’t want the college fuckboy? Or any of the other people in the bar? They’d never hesitate to join you for trivia night.”

And then it hits you. She’s jealous because she’s insecure. She also worries about the age difference.

Your heart swells and you break free of her grasp to grab her cheeks and pull her in for a long and filthy kiss. You moan into her mouth when her tongue swipes against yours and she fits a thigh between your legs.

“I’m all yours, Agatha,” you groan when she tugs your bottom lip between her teeth and her eyes flash.

“You better be,” she warns and entangles her fingers in your hair so she can tilt your head to the side and sink a bite into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Your hips buck on her thigh and you gasp when she sucks roughly. She trails up your neck, doing the same thing over and over, and you’re quickly reduced to a moaning, desperate mess.

Her other hand trails down to hold onto your hip, just feeling you shakily grind against her, trying to get some relief.

“Should I go back inside and get James to come out and watch this?” She asks against your skin, still marking you up. “So he knows what happens when he touches things that aren’t his?”

You inhale sharply at the thought and wish that she would just drag you back inside and fuck you right there on the table in front of everyone.

“Please,” you beg. She actually giggles and pulls back to admire her handiwork on your neck. She lightly traces over the marks and you shiver under her touch and intense gaze.

Agatha smirks when she meets your eyes again. “That should let everyone know who you belong to. And you, in case you need the reminder.”

You pretend to think for a moment. “Maybe I could use a refresher. Why don’t you show me who owns me?”

Her eyes darken even more as she pulls you back in for a searing kiss that she ends too quickly.

She yanks her thigh from out between yours and grabs your hand, dragging you to the car.

“Oh, I’m going to, baby.”

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #kathryn hahn x reader #agatha all along

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natlovesls2 · 2 days ago

Text

It Isn't Over

Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: small amount of angst, minimal swearing, no use of y/n, short and honestly not that good

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 900

*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: Lando regrets the everything that has happened between you. Part two to this: part one

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

Lando had silently hoped your Instagram stories only served to make him jealous. Perhaps you simply wanted to show him what he had lost– of course that had been nothing but wishful thinking, having heard from a mutual friend that you were indeed seeing some guy. He stood at the door of your apartment, hand slightly raised as he debated whether he should knock or not.

“Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to knock?” the sound of your voice shaking him out of his thoughts.

He hadn’t seen you in months, you looked as radiant as ever, “I miss you,” he blurted out, voice slightly shaky as he reached a hand out towards you,“I made a mistake, a big one, I know I did. I lie awake every night thinking about it.”

He noticed your hesitance, he wasn’t a complete idiot when it came to reading people despite what you thought of him. “Why don’t you come in, have something to drink,” you sighed, digging through your purse, attempting to find your keys.

“Thank you,” he said softly, watching as you opened the door to your apartment, letting him in and closing the door behind you. He scanned the living room for any sign of your moving on, perhaps a coat left by your new lover or a picture of a sentimental moment hanging on the wall, but he found none. Instead he was greeted by the same living room he had come to know during the duration of your complicated friendship.

“I guess we have a lot to talk about,” you led him to your kitchen, hand shaking as you poured him a glass of water, “do you want anything else to drink?” he shook his head, taking a sip of water.

“I don’t know where to start,” he admits, nervously running a hand through his hair. He was nervous, something he had never been around you. Lando had always been a confident person, especially around you, this was new. “Are you seeing anyone?” he asks.

“What?” you were confused by the sudden question, it hadn’t been what you expected him to say, far from it. There wasn’t anything that could have come out of his mouth that would have been expected but this was certainly one of the least possible things you would expect. In fact, maybe, an apology would have been more appropriate than whatever he intended with that question.

“I think I’m in love with you, and if you’re seeing someone then it complicates things. I saw that guy on your instagram– but that doesn’t change how I feel,” he rambled out a confession, burying his face in his hands, tugging at his hair.

“You think?”

“I am, I am so in love with you. And I made the worst mistake of my life, I know that. I just need another chance,” he said, desperately pleading with you, his tone the most serious you had ever heard from him. It hurt you, it hurt to know that it had taken him years to realize this. His eyes never leaving your face, hoping to find any sort of reaction that would reveal that your feelings for him hadn’t changed despite his foul treatment.

“Lando…” you started. He hated the way you said his name, how soft your voice still sounded despite the evident pain. “You hurt me in many ways. It was as if you saw me as less than human, just something to satisfy whatever needs you had,” you felt tears start to well up in your eyes, it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep calm. “And now you show up at my front door claiming to be in love with me? I find it all hard to believe.”

You remember one night that had been particularly hurtful– the night of your birthday. Lando had called you earlier that day, inviting himself over to your apartment. You had wishfully thought that he had remembered your birthday, despite the fact that he had yet to acknowledge it. When he had finally arrived that night you were not greeted with the words “Happy Birthday”. Instead he pushed his way into your home, kissing you and whispering against your skin about how much he needed you. It wasn’t until a week later that he had even noticed that your birthday had passed. So to say that you couldn’t believe Lando had truly changed was an understatement, but even so, you couldn’t bring yourself to forget about your feelings towards him.

“I’m not asking you to believe me. I'm asking you to give me another chance– an opportunity to prove to you that what I feel for you is real, that I truly do love you,” Lando took a step closer, his hand reaching out to brush away a stubborn tear that had made its way past the threshold of your eyes.

“One chance,” you whispered, letting your forehead rest against his.

“So you’re not seeing that guy you’ve been posting on your Instagram?”

“He’s my cousin,” you said with a small teary laugh, placing a kiss on his nose.

And maybe things would be different than they had been before. Maybe this time he wouldn’t ditch you at events for models who made you insecure or forget your birthday. This time he wouldn’t make you hate the way you looked. But only time would tell.

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*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Note: I had a lot I wanted to do for this but lost motivation and I didn't want to just scrap the whole fic so... yeah, I know its shit but I've had a rough month. Anyway, I just wanted to give the original a happy ending. My Decemeber shorts will be better (I hope), peace out

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the-winter-spider · 2 days ago

Text

Red | One Shot

Bucky x reader AU

Word count: 9.4k

Warnings: Angst sorta

A/N: Just was hanging around in my docs

Purple

The rain outside had slowed to a drizzle by the time the bartender placed another drink in front of you, unasked but not unwelcome. You curled your fingers around the glass, watching the condensation bead and trickle down to the counter. In the corner of your vision, he was still there, watching—not in a way that felt predatory, but in a way that made you hyperaware of everything. The tilt of your head. The way your fingers trembled slightly on the glass. The flutter of your scarf in the breeze sneaking through the cracked door.

“Another round?” the bartender asked, jerking his thumb toward your almost-empty glass.

You nodded, grateful for the distraction, but when the man in the corner stood, your breath caught.

The sound of his boots against the wooden floor carried through the room like a countdown, slow and deliberate. You kept your gaze locked on your hands, trying to steady your nerves, until he was there. Beside you.

“You look like you could use better company than that drink,” he said, the roughness of his voice softened by something faintly teasing.

You glanced up, and there it was again—that pull, that undeniable gravity. “And you think you’re better company?” you shot back, trying to keep your voice steady, trying to pretend his presence wasn’t unraveling you thread by thread.

He slid onto the stool beside you, leaning back like he’d been sitting there all along. “You tell me.”

The ice in your glass melted as the conversation deepened, its edges smooth and warm, much like his voice. He asked simple questions at first—the easy kind, the kind that let you pretend this was just another stranger making small talk. But as the minutes passed, the space between you seemed to shrink, the questions becoming sharper, more pointed.

“Why here?” he asked after a while, motioning to the bar around you.

You glanced around, taking in the dim lights and peeling wallpaper, the faint hum of music struggling against the noise of the room. “The rain,” you admitted. “I wasn’t planning on stopping. This just…happened.”

He nodded slowly, his fingers drumming softly against the counter. “Funny how things happen, isn’t it?”

“And you?” you asked, your curiosity finally outweighing your nerves. “What’s your excuse for being here?”

He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe I wasn’t planning on stopping either.”

What struck you most about him wasn’t what he said, but the way he didn’t speak. The moments of silence between his words were heavy, charged with something unspoken but palpable.

It wasn’t the kind of silence that made you feel like you needed to fill it. It was the kind of silence that made you want to stay.

“People don’t usually stick around when I stop talking,” he said after one of those silences stretched long enough to make the bartender glance over.

You smiled faintly. “Maybe I’m not most people.”

His eyes flicked to yours then, sharp and piercing, and for the first time, you thought you saw something crack in the façade he carried so carefully. Something vulnerable. “No,” he said softly. “You’re not.”

The red scarf had become your anchor, your fingers twisting and untwisting it like a lifeline. When he noticed, his gaze softened, and he leaned in just slightly.

“Nervous?” he asked.

You laughed softly, though your chest felt tight. “Should I be?”

“Probably.” The word was heavy, weighted with something unspoken, but his tone was lighter—almost teasing. “But you don’t scare easy, do you?”

You hesitated, unsure of how much of yourself to reveal to someone who already seemed to see too much. “Maybe I’m just good at pretending,” you said finally, your voice quieter than you intended.

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly, like he was studying you. “Or maybe you’re braver than you think.”

The words shouldn’t have affected you the way they did, but they hit like a fist to the chest, leaving you breathless.

Time moved strangely when you were with him. Minutes stretched and contracted, the room around you fading into a blur until it was just the two of you, caught in the strange, magnetic pull that had brought you together.

The rain had stopped by the time you noticed how late it had gotten, the room quieter now as patrons trickled out into the damp night. You pulled your scarf tighter around your neck, reluctant to leave but knowing you couldn’t stay.

He stood when you did, his presence a shadow behind you as you moved toward the door.

“Be careful out there,” he said, his voice softer now, almost gentle.

You turned to face him, the red scarf catching the faint breeze sneaking in from outside. “I could say the same to you.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, his expression unreadable. And then he nodded, his lips twitching into a faint smile.

“Maybe I’ll see you around,” he said, though it didn’t sound like a promise.

You stood there for a long moment, your heart racing as the distance between you grew. And when he stepped back into the shadows of the bar, disappearing as quietly as he’d appeared, you felt like you’d lost something you hadn’t even known you were looking for.

You stepped out into the damp night, the world strangely quiet around you. The red neon of The Red Star Lounge flickered behind you, its glow painting the pavement like blood.

You walked slowly, the chill creeping back into your skin despite the warmth of your scarf. And as you turned the corner, the realization settled deep in your chest.

Whatever had started tonight, it wouldn’t end well.

But maybe, just maybe, it would be worth it.

Green

The days after your first time meeting Bucky were a blur of stolen moments and quiet intensity. He was everywhere—every corner you turned, every crowded space you slipped into. He’d somehow become woven into the fabric of your days, and time itself seemed to shift around him.

You caught his glances in places you hadn’t expected to see him, like the coffee shop down the street or the bookstore you thought no one but you ever visited. His presence lingered, felt before seen, heavy and magnetic in a way that made your pulse quicken.

It wasn’t love—not yet. It couldn’t be. You’d only just met him. But it was something wild and unstoppable, like a spark catching dry kindling. The kind of connection that was as thrilling as it was terrifying.

You hadn’t planned on running into him again so soon. The market was bustling, filled with the warmth of laughter, the clink of cups from a nearby café, and the chatter of vendors calling out deals. You’d come to escape the growing restlessness inside you, hoping to lose yourself in the ordinary rhythm of the crowd. But then, as if summoned by your thoughts, there he was.

“Hi,” came the familiar, gravelly voice from behind you.

You turned, your breath catching for just a moment. There he stood, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, his steel-blue eyes fixed on you in a way that made the bustling market fade into the background.

“Hi,” you replied, the word softer than you intended, like a whisper carried on the breeze.

A small smirk tugged at his lips, and for a moment, you could swear the space between you felt electric. “We keep running into each other,” he said, his tone teasing, but there was something deeper beneath it—something unspoken.

“You’re everywhere,” you said, almost accusing, though your lips curved into a faint smile.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Is that a bad thing?”

You hesitated, the playful edge in his voice sending a flutter through your chest. “You tell me,” you said, your voice steadier now, though your heart was racing.

His smirk widened just enough to make your stomach flip. “I think it depends,” he said, stepping just a fraction closer, his presence filling the space around you. “Do I bother you?”

“Should you?” you shot back, meeting his gaze evenly despite the way he made your pulse race.

“Guess that’s up to you.” His voice was low, steady, but there was a challenge in it, the kind that made you want to stay in this moment longer than you should.

The crowd around you moved on, the noise of the market dulling as the two of you stood there, caught in the pull that seemed to draw you together no matter where you were.

The moment stretched, the world around you blurring as the tension between you thickened. It was maddening, this pull, this constant feeling that he was both a mystery you wanted to solve and a danger you weren’t sure you should touch.

“Are you always this… persistent?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

He laughed softly, the sound warm and rough, settling somewhere deep in your chest. “Only when I’ve got a reason to be.”

“And do you?”

His smile faded, replaced by something softer, something that made your breath catch. “Maybe.”

The honesty in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you weren’t sure what to say, weren’t sure you could say anything at all without betraying the way he was already getting under your skin.

Before either of you could say more, someone jostled past you, breaking the moment like a stone dropped in still water. You took a step back, breaking his gaze, suddenly hyperaware of the world around you again.

“Well,” you said, pulling your scarf tighter around your neck, the movement more of a reflex than a necessity. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Guess so,” he replied, his voice softer now, but still carrying that magnetic pull that made it hard to leave.

You turned before you could change your mind, slipping back into the crowd, but you could feel his eyes on you long after you’d disappeared from view.

That night, as you sat by your window, the red scarf still warm against your neck, you couldn’t shake the feeling of him—the way he looked at you, the way he seemed to linger in your thoughts long after he was gone.

Orange

The first time he took your hand, it was under the cover of night. The two of you had wandered out of town, the air crisp and the moon high above, lighting the fields with silver. You’d teased him into leaving the bar, insisting there was more to life than whiskey and dark corners. To your surprise, he followed.

“You’re relentless, you know that?” he muttered, his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket as you walked side by side down the quiet road.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” you shot back, glancing over your shoulder with a grin.

When the road opened into a clearing, the moonlight spilling across the grass like liquid silver, you stopped. “Dance with me,” you said suddenly.

His brow furrowed, and for a moment, you thought he might refuse. “You’re kidding, right? I don’t dance.”

“Everyone dances.” You grabbed his hand before he could protest further, your fingers tangling with his. “You just haven’t tried with the right partner.”

At first, he was stiff, awkward, his steps uncertain. But you laughed, the sound soft and free, and something in him loosened. His hands found your waist, tentative but firm, and together you moved under the open sky, your red scarf trailing in the breeze like a streak of fire against the night.

His grin was shy but genuine, his guard slipping just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the man hidden beneath the rough edges.

The air around you seemed to hum, the crisp night wrapping you both in a cocoon of stillness, as if the world had paused just for this moment. The stars twinkled overhead, scattered across the velvet sky, and the quiet rustle of grass beneath your feet served as the only soundtrack to your impromptu dance.

His hand on your waist was steady now, the earlier awkwardness fading as he settled into the rhythm of your movements. You could feel his warmth even through the layers of fabric between you, grounding and electric all at once.

“You’re full of surprises,” you said softly, meeting his gaze. The moonlight illuminated his features in a way that made him seem both sharper and softer all at once—the hard lines of his jaw, the faint crinkle at the corners of his eyes as he smiled.

“Don’t get used to it,” he teased, though his voice lacked its usual edge.

“Oh, I already am,” you shot back, a grin tugging at your lips. “You’re stuck with me now.”

His laugh was quiet, almost a hum, and you caught a flicker of something in his expression—hesitation, maybe, or disbelief. Like he wasn’t used to this kind of lightness, this kind of joy.

“You really do this to everyone?” he asked, tilting his head as he studied you, his tone carrying a mix of curiosity and playfulness.

“Do what?”

“Drag them out into fields, make them dance under the stars, make them feel like…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting yours again. “Like this.”

Your smile faltered, but only slightly. “Like what?”

“Like there’s still something good in the world.” His voice was quieter now, almost a whisper, and the words felt like they carried more weight than you expected.

Your breath caught in your chest, and for a moment, the flirty banter dissolved into something deeper, something raw. You didn’t look away, though, even as his gaze burned into yours. “Maybe I just have good instincts,” you said softly. “Maybe I knew you needed this and maybe you're not just anyone.."

He didn’t respond right away, his jaw tightening as he seemed to wrestle with whatever storm was brewing inside him. But then he nodded, a small, almost imperceptible gesture. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Maybe.”

You continued to sway, the tension between you softening but not disappearing. His grip on your waist tightened slightly, not possessive but steady, anchoring you to the moment.

“You’re not bad at this, you know,” you said, breaking the silence. “For someone who doesn’t dance.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he muttered, but there was no hiding the faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“Too late.”

You laughed, and the sound seemed to draw something out of him—a quiet chuckle, his guard slipping even further. He spun you then, a move so unexpected and unpolished that you nearly stumbled, but his hand caught yours, pulling you back to him with ease.

“Show-off,” you teased, breathless from the movement and his proximity.

“You asked for a dance,” he replied, his grin widening. “Don’t complain when I deliver.”

After a while, your movements slowed, the dance turning into little more than a quiet sway. The night had grown colder, the stars above brighter, and the world around you quieter.

His hands lingered on your waist longer than they needed to as you pulled back slightly, your red scarf brushing against his arm.

“You’re not as bad at this as you think,” you said softly, your voice carrying just enough warmth to take the sting out of the teasing.

“Guess I had the right partner,” he replied, his tone quieter now, almost serious.

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you smiled, your fingers brushing his briefly before you stepped back fully.

“Thank you,” you said, and you weren’t sure if you meant for the dance, for following you out here, or for letting you see this softer side of him.

He nodded, his eyes meeting yours one last time before he stepped back, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “You’re trouble,” he repeated, the faintest trace of a smile still on his lips.

“And don’t you forget it,” you replied, your grin returning as you adjusted your scarf, the red fabric catching the breeze.

As the two of you made your way back to the bar in comfortable silence, you couldn’t help but glance at him from the corner of your eye. There was something about the way he walked beside you, the way he seemed both cautious and unflinchingly present, that made you wonder what was hiding behind those sharp eyes and soft smiles.

Grey

It started with something small. It always did.

The two of you had been in his apartment, a quiet night derailed by the weight of unspoken things. You’d made a joke—a harmless, casual jab at the way he always seemed to know what was happening before you did, like he had a sixth sense for trouble. But instead of laughing, his jaw tightened, and his response came sharp and clipped.

“Maybe you shouldn’t ask questions you don’t want answers to,” he muttered, his voice low, his eyes fixed somewhere past your shoulder.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. “Excuse me?”

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair as if to push the thought away. “Forget it.”

But you couldn’t. You hated when he did this—when he locked you out, pulling the shutters down on a window you’d thought was finally open.

“Bucky, what the hell is that supposed to mean?” you asked, your voice rising despite your best efforts to stay calm.

“It means I’ve got enough going on without you digging into things that don’t concern you,” he snapped, his frustration spilling over.

“Things that don’t concern me?” You took a step closer, your chest tight with a mix of anger and hurt. “How can you say that? You’re the one who pulled me into this—into you. Don’t tell me I don’t get to care about what’s going on in your head.”

His gaze flicked to yours, sharp and guarded, like he was debating whether to fight or retreat. “You don’t get it,” he said finally, his voice quieter but no less biting. “You don’t know what it’s like to carry the kind of shit I do.”

You stared at him, the words hitting you like a blow. “You’re right,” you said, your voice trembling. “I don’t know. Because you won’t let me!”

The room fell silent, the tension crackling like a live wire between you.

“Maybe it’s better that way,” he said after a long pause, his voice cold and distant.

The words sliced through you, sharp and unforgiving. You turned away, grabbing your coat and scarf, your movements jerky and frantic.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice rising as you stormed toward the door.

“Somewhere I don’t feel like a burden!” you shot back, the words raw and cutting as they left your lips.

The rain started just as you stepped outside, a steady downpour that soaked through your clothes within minutes. You didn’t care. Your feet carried you forward, one step after another, until you were too far from his building to hear his voice if he called after you.

But he did call.

“Y/N!”

You stopped, the sound of his voice slicing through the rain and your resolve. You turned slowly, the water streaming down your face, mingling with the tears you hadn’t realized were falling.

Bucky stood a few feet away, his hair plastered to his forehead, his jacket already drenched. He looked as wrecked as you felt.

“Why are you here, Bucky?” you shouted, your voice shaking with anger and something far more dangerous—hope. “Why do you care?”

Red

“Because I can’t not care!” he shouted back, the words breaking open something in both of you.

He took a step closer, his boots splashing in the puddles, his gaze locking onto yours. “You think I don’t know what this is doing to you? To us? I’m trying, baby. I just—”

His voice cracked, the raw emotion in it making your breath hitch. “I just don’t know how to be the person you think I am,” he finished, his shoulders slumping.

For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your chest heaving with the force of everything you felt. You wanted to yell, to cry, to pull him closer and push him away all at once. But before you could do anything, he moved.

His hands cupped your face, his touch firm but trembling, his palms warm against your rain-chilled skin. And then his lips were on yours, urgent and unyielding, pouring everything he couldn’t say into the kiss.

The rain poured harder, cold and relentless, but you didn’t feel it. All you felt was him—his hands in your hair, his body pressed against yours, the heat of his kiss erasing every other thought in your mind.

Your hands found their way to his jacket, gripping the wet leather as if it were the only thing keeping you grounded. His lips moved against yours, fierce and desperate, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

The rain poured around you, cold and relentless, but his kiss was all heat. It stole your breath, your anger, your fears—leaving nothing but the raw, unshakable truth of how deeply he’d gotten under your skin.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and ragged against your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words barely audible over the rain. “I’m so goddamn sorry.”

Your hands loosened their grip on his jacket, falling to your sides as you searched his eyes. “Then stop pushing me away,” you said, your voice trembling. “Stop making me feel like I’m not enough.”

His eyes closed briefly, his jaw tightening as he nodded. “I’m trying,” he said, his voice raw. “I swear I’m trying.”

You exhaled shakily, the weight of his words pressing against your chest. “Then let me help you,” you said softly. “Whatever it is, Bucky, i can take it….But you have to let me in.”

His hands dropped from your face, his gaze falling to the ground. For a long moment, he said nothing, the silence filled only by the sound of the rain.

“Okay,” he said finally, his voice hoarse but steady. “Okay.”

The rain had slowed to a drizzle by the time you made your way back to his apartment, walking side by side in silence. His hand brushed against yours once, then again, before he finally took it, his grip firm and grounding.

Neither of you spoke as you stepped inside, the warmth of the room wrapping around you as you shed your soaked coats and shoes.

“I’ll make some tea,” he said quietly, his voice still rough around the edges.

You nodded, watching as he moved to the kitchen, his shoulders still tense but lighter somehow. The storm wasn’t over—not completely.

White

It didn’t take long for you to realize that Bucky wasn’t like anyone else you’d ever loved. He carried his past like a weight around his neck, a shadow that followed him even in his brightest moments. He never talked about it—not in words, at least. But it was there, in the tension that gripped his shoulders when he thought no one was watching, in the way his eyes sometimes drifted to the distance, as if he could still see ghosts in the corners of his mind.

One night, as you traced the faded scars on his knuckles, the storm of his silence felt unbearable.

“Where did these come from?” you asked softly, your thumb brushing over the jagged lines etched into his skin.

He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Bar fights,” he said, his voice laced with forced nonchalance.

“Must’ve been some fight,” you murmured, your fingers lingering on the edges of his scars like you could smooth them away.

He shrugged, but the movement was tight, deliberate, like he was trying to shrug off more than the question. His smirk faded, replaced by something far heavier. “I wasn’t always… the guy you see now,” he said finally, his voice quiet, almost hollow.

The air in the room shifted, the words lingering between you like smoke, impossible to clear. You didn’t press him. You’d learned by now that he wasn’t the type to offer up pieces of himself freely. He kept his pain buried deep, beneath layers of charm and bravado, but in the quiet moments—when the walls came down—you could feel it.

The silence stretched, heavy but not empty. You studied his face, the hard lines of his jaw, the faint shadow of stubble, the way his lips pressed into a thin line like he was holding back words he didn’t trust himself to say. His eyes, always so sharp and clear, seemed distant, as if he wasn’t in the room with you anymore but somewhere else entirely.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you said softly, your fingers still resting against his hand. “But you don’t have to carry it alone, either.”

His gaze snapped back to you then, sharp and searching, like he was trying to decide whether you meant it.

“Some things aren’t worth sharing,” he said after a long moment, his tone guarded but not unkind. “They don’t make anything better.”

“Maybe not,” you said carefully, leaning back slightly to give him space. “But sometimes saying it out loud makes it hurt a little less.”

He laughed softly, but it wasn’t a laugh meant to comfort—it was bitter, self-deprecating, the sound of someone who didn’t believe a word you’d said.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Then tell me,” you challenged, your voice steady even as your heart pounded. “Show me.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, his expression a mix of disbelief and something darker—fear, maybe, or anger. For a moment, you thought he might snap, might push you away entirely. But instead, he let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging under the weight of whatever he was holding.

“I’ve done things,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “Things I can’t take back. Things I don’t want to take back because… because I thought I deserved them.”

The confession hit you like a punch to the chest, but you didn’t flinch. You stayed where you were, your hand still resting on his, grounding him in a way you hoped was enough.

He looked down, his jaw tight, his voice rough as he continued. “You want to know where these scars came from? Fine. Some are bar fights. Most of them are from being too drunk to care what happened to me. Or too angry to stop swinging when I should’ve walked away.” He paused, his eyes flicking back to yours. “And some of them are from people who thought I deserved worse.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t speak. This wasn’t the time to offer reassurances he wouldn’t believe. This was the time to let him speak, to let the floodgates open.

“I wasn’t a good person, darlin’,” he said, his voice breaking just slightly. “I was reckless. Selfish. I burned bridges with everyone who ever gave a damn about me, because it was easier to burn them than to admit I needed them.”

He let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You look at me like I’m someone worth saving, but you don’t know what you’re saving me from. And I don’t know if I want you to.”

Your hand tightened on his instinctively, and he looked at you like he was waiting for you to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you leaned forward, your voice quiet but firm.

“You’re not that person anymore, Bucky.”

His laugh was bitter, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “And what makes you so sure?”

“Because I know you,” you said, your words steady even as your chest ached with the weight of what he’d shared. “I know the man you are now. The man who stands up when he’d rather run. The man who cares about the people in his life even when he’s scared he’ll lose them. The man who looks at me like… like I’m more than just another person passing through his life.”

His breath hitched, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart pound. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he murmured, his voice low and broken.

“Don’t I?” you replied, leaning closer, your hand still on his. “You think I don’t see the cracks in you? The scars you’re trying to hide? I see them, Bucky. I see you. And I’m still here.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his chest rising and falling with the force of his emotions. And then, slowly, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

“Maybe not,” you said softly, leaning into his touch. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

Pink

Not everything was heavy. There were moments of lightness, too—moments when the weight he carried seemed to lift, revealing the boy he must’ve been before life carved him into the man he’d become.

Like the time you convinced him to teach you how to ride his motorcycle.

“This is a terrible idea,” he said, his hands firm on your shoulders as you perched awkwardly on the seat. His jacket was slung over the handlebars, leaving him in a worn t-shirt that clung to his frame in the afternoon heat.

“You’re just saying that because you’re scared I’ll be better at it than you,” you teased, glancing over your shoulder with a grin.

He rolled his eyes, though the corners of his mouth twitched. “No, I’m saying it because I like this bike, and I’d rather not see it flipped into a ditch.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” you said, sticking your tongue out at him before turning your attention back to the bike. “Just tell me what to do.”

“Fine,” he relented, stepping around to stand beside you, one hand resting on the handlebar. “First rule: don’t panic. Second rule: listen to me.”

“Was that not the first rule?”

He smirked. “It’s the first and second rule. You like to improvise, and I’m not interested in seeing where that gets us today.”

You weren’t good at it—not at first. Your balance was all wrong, your movements jerky as you tried to adjust to the unfamiliar weight of the bike beneath you. The engine purred, vibrating against your thighs as you gripped the handlebars too tightly.

“Loosen up,” Bucky said, his voice even as he kept one hand on the back of the seat to steady you. “You’re not wrestling it into submission.”

“Easy for you to say!” you snapped, your voice high-pitched with nerves as the bike wobbled forward.

His laugh was low and infuriatingly calm. “Relax, you’re not going to die. I’ve got you.”

“You better,” you muttered, biting your lip as you tried to focus on his instructions.

By the time you’d tipped the bike over for the second time—mercifully without actually crashing—your cheeks were flushed, half from embarrassment and half from the adrenaline coursing through you.

“Alright, maybe this was a terrible idea,” you admitted, throwing him an exasperated look as you struggled to right the bike again.

He was already laughing, the sound deep and unrestrained as he grabbed the handlebars to help. “Told you,” he said, grinning wide enough to show his teeth.

“Don’t gloat,” you shot back, but your own laughter bubbled up before you could stop it.

By the time you got the hang of it—coasting in a slow, wobbly circle while he watched from a few feet away, arms crossed and smirking like he was witnessing a miracle—you were both laughing so hard you could barely breathe.

“Look at me!” you shouted, your voice triumphant. “I’m doing it!”

“Don’t get cocky,” he warned, though his tone was light. “You’re still going about five miles an hour.”

“That’s five more miles an hour than you thought I’d manage,” you called back, steering carefully toward him.

When you finally stopped, dismounting with all the grace of a baby giraffe, you stumbled into his arms, laughing uncontrollably.

“Okay, okay,” you gasped, your forehead resting against his chest as you tried to catch your breath. “Maybe you’re the expert.”

“Told you,” he said, his laugh rumbling against your ear. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, holding you steady as your knees threatened to buckle.

“You know,” you said, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, “you’re kind of a good teacher. Strict, but effective.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he replied, though there was a softness in his eyes that made your heart flip.

In those moments, you forgot about the shadows lurking at the edges of your relationship. You forgot about the way he sometimes disappeared into his own head, shutting you out without warning. You forgot about the way doubt sometimes crept in, whispering that you’d never be enough to pull him out of the darkness he carried.

In those moments, it was just him and you. His laughter, his warmth, the way he looked at you like you were the brightest thing in his world.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” he said suddenly, his tone light but his gaze lingering on you a moment too long.

“So i've been told,” you replied, smirking “But here you are”

His lips quirked into a faint smile, but something flickered in his expression—something unspoken but undeniable. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Here I am.”

Black

Bucky’s past was a shadow that followed him everywhere, slipping into the quiet moments between you, seeping into the cracks of your conversations, and weighing down the lightness you fought so hard to hold onto. He never told you the full story, but you’d pieced together enough to know it was dark, messy, and full of mistakes he couldn’t forgive himself for.

He’d let pieces of it slip, in fragments so small they barely felt like enough to build a picture. The late nights when he’d sit on the edge of the bed, his back to you, head in his hands as he tried to keep his breathing even. The scars on his knuckles, his ribs, the faint burn marks along his forearms he never wanted to explain.

“Old life,” he’d say when you pushed, the words clipped, like the conversation was over before it began.

But you could see the weight of it in his eyes, the way they clouded when you asked too many questions, or the way his jaw tightened when you pressed him about the motorcycle gathering dust in the corner of the garage.

One night, tangled together in bed, you felt the words leave your lips before you could stop them.

“Why don’t you let yourself be happy?”

You hadn’t meant it to sound so accusatory, but it hung heavy in the air between you. He was staring at the ceiling, the dim light casting shadows across his face, and for a moment, you weren’t sure he’d heard you.

Then, quietly, he answered. “I don’t deserve it.”

The simplicity of it made your chest ache. You shifted closer, your hand sliding over his chest to rest just above his heart. His pulse was steady beneath your fingertips, but his breathing was shallow.

“Who gets to decide that?” you whispered.

He didn’t answer.

The silence that followed was louder than anything he could’ve said. You felt his walls build themselves back up in real time, felt the distance between you grow even though he was right there. And that was the moment you realized just how fragile this thing between you really was.

You were falling for him—deeply, recklessly—but you couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how hard you tried, you’d never be able to love away the pain he carried.

It was a few days later when he finally said something. You were sitting on the back steps of the house, the two of you sharing a beer in comfortable silence, the late summer heat clinging to the air.

“I used to be part of something,” he started, his voice low, almost like he was speaking to himself.

You turned to him, careful not to interrupt.

He stared straight ahead, his eyes fixed on the horizon as if the past was painted somewhere in the fading streaks of the sunset. His hands fidgeted with the beer bottle, his thumb running along the condensation like it was the only thing grounding him to the moment.

“A gang of sorts,” he finally said, the words clipped, sharp, like they physically hurt to say out loud. “We didn’t call it that. We thought we were a brotherhood, a club at best. Thought we were something… loyal. But it wasn’t like that.”

Your breath caught, but you stayed silent, knowing this was fragile ground you were treading on.

“We rode together. Lived for the thrill of it. For the noise, the chaos, the speed.” He paused, his lips pressing into a thin line. “But it was never just that. It was fights. Deals. Smuggling. You name it, we probably did it—or looked the other way while it was happening.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “And I was all in. I thought I’d found a family. I thought… it meant something.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and you reached for his hand instinctively, your fingers brushing his. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t look at you either.

“What changed?” you asked softly.

His jaw clenched, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. “I did. Or maybe I just woke up. Started seeing it for what it really was—a way to hurt people. A way to run from everything I didn’t want to face. And when I finally decided I couldn’t be part of it anymore…”

He trailed off, his knuckles tightening around the beer bottle.

“What happened?”

He turned to you then, his eyes heavy with something you couldn’t quite name—regret, anger, fear. “They don’t let you just walk away from something like that. Not without consequences.”

“They came after you?” you guessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“They tried,” he said, his tone flat. “It got messy. People got hurt, people died, good people died…. And I left everything behind. My bike, my crew, the only life I’d known up to that point. I’ve been running ever since.”

His words hung in the humid air, and you struggled to process everything he was laying bare.

“Bucky…”

He shook his head, cutting you off. “Don’t. Don’t try to make it sound better than it was. I don’t deserve that.”

You wanted to argue, to tell him that everyone deserved a second chance, that whatever he’d done, it didn’t define who he was now. But you knew he wouldn’t hear it. Not yet.

Instead, you squeezed his hand, your thumb brushing over the scarred skin of his knuckles. “You don’t have to keep running,” you said, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat.

He let out a humorless laugh, his shoulders slumping. “You think it’s that easy? That I can just… stop?”

“I think it’s a start,” you said. “And I think you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

That night, after the sun had dipped below the horizon and the two of you had gone inside, you lay awake beside him, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing.

You wondered about the things he hadn’t told you—the names, the faces, the details he still kept locked away. You could feel them pressing down on him, weighing him down like chains he didn’t know how to break.

And yet, despite everything, you felt hope. Because he’d told you something. He’d opened a door, even if only a crack.

But in the days that followed, the weight of his confession seemed to grow heavier. You noticed the way his eyes darted to the shadows when the two of you walked down the street, the way his body tensed every time a motorcycle engine roared in the distance.

As you sat together in the living room, the sound of distant thunder rolling through the open window, you decided to ask the question that had been burning in the back of your mind.

“Do you think they’ll come for you?”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze was fixed on the window, his expression unreadable. Finally, he exhaled, leaning back against the couch. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “Maybe. Probably.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of his words sinking in. “What would you do?”

“Whatever I have to,” he said, his voice firm, his jaw set.

The finality in his tone sent a chill down your spine. “You don’t have to face it alone, Bucky.”

He turned to you, his eyes softening just enough to let you see the fear buried beneath the bravado. “You don’t understand. If they find me, it won’t just be me they’ll go after.”

For a moment, the air between you was thick with everything left unsaid. Then he reached for your hand, his grip strong but trembling. “I don’t want you to get hurt, I cant have you get hurt”

“I know,” you said softly. “But I’m not walking away.”

RED

It was late, the kind of quiet that made the world feel smaller, as though the two of you were the only people left in it. The rain had come and gone, leaving the air cool and clean, and the faint scent of damp earth drifted through the open window.

Bucky sat on the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, an old book balanced on his knee. You were curled up beside him, your feet tucked under his thigh, a mug of tea cradled in your hands. It was a simple moment, unremarkable in its stillness, but it felt significant in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

You watched him over the rim of your mug, his brow furrowed as he read, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His hair was tousled from the way he kept running his fingers through it, and the soft lamplight cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw.

“What?” he asked suddenly, his eyes flicking to yours.

You blinked, realizing you’d been caught staring. “Nothing,” you said quickly, though the warmth rising in your cheeks gave you away.

He closed the book, his lips curving into a lopsided grin. “That didn’t look like ‘nothing.’”

You rolled your eyes, setting your mug down on the coffee table. “Maybe I just like looking at you.”

His grin faltered, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. He reached out, his hand finding yours where it rested on the couch cushion. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, slow and deliberate.

“Careful,” he murmured, his voice low. “You keep saying things like that, and I might start believing them.”

The words were on the tip of your tongue before you even realized they were there. They spilled out quietly, almost like they’d slipped past your defenses on their own.

“I love you.”

The room seemed to freeze, the words hanging in the air between you. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited for his response.

Bucky’s hand stilled against yours, his eyes widening slightly as he looked at you. “What did you say?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing. “I love you,” you repeated, more firmly this time.

His breath hitched, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away. But then he shifted closer, his hand cupping your cheek as he studied your face like he was trying to memorize every detail.

“You mean that?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

You nodded, your hand covering his where it rested on your cheek. “I mean it, Bucky.. I love you.”

For a second, he didn’t say anything. His thumb brushed against your cheekbone, his touch warm and steady, and you could see the emotions flickering behind his eyes—fear, disbelief, hope.

Then, finally, he exhaled, his lips curving into the faintest smile. “I love you too,” he said, the words soft but sure, like they’d been waiting inside him all along.

You felt your chest tighten, the weight of his confession hitting you like a wave. You leaned into his touch, your forehead resting against his as a quiet laugh escaped you.

“Why do you sound so surprised?” you teased, though your voice was thick with emotion.

“Because I didn’t think I’d ever get to say it,” he admitted, his voice raw.

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your fingers tangling with his. “Well, you do,” you said firmly. “You do.”

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you as he buried his face in your hair. You could feel his heart pounding against your own, his breathing shaky as he held you like he was afraid to let go.

“I love you,” he murmured again, the words muffled against your skin.

Black

The cracks in your relationship with Bucky had always been there, faint at first, like hairline fractures in glass. But over time, those fractures deepened, spreading until the entire structure seemed ready to shatter. You both saw it coming. Neither of you stopped it.

The end wasn’t sudden—it was a slow, excruciating unraveling. It started with the silences, the way Bucky’s gaze lingered on the horizon instead of you. Then came the arguments, sharp and biting, words flung like weapons that left wounds neither of you could heal. And finally, the moment when everything fell apart.

The air between you was thick, suffocating, as you stood across from Bucky in the dim light of your apartment. Outside, the sun was setting, the sky painted in hues of crimson and gold, like a warning, like a fire.

“You don’t get it, do you?” you snapped, your voice trembling with frustration. “I can’t keep doing this, Bucky. I can’t keep wondering if you’re going to disappear every time things get hard.”

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his jaw tight. “I’m not disappearing.” His voice was low, but there was an edge to it, the tension in his frame barely restrained.

“Then what do you call it?” You stepped closer, your chest heaving with the weight of everything you’d been holding back. “The nights you don’t come home? The way you shut me out? How am I supposed to love you when you won’t even let me in?”

His eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, you thought you saw something crack in his expression. But then he looked away, and the wall went back up. “You knew what you were getting into,” he muttered, the words like a punch to your chest.

“That’s not fair,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I didn’t know it would feel like this. Like I’m constantly fighting to hold onto you while you’re halfway out the door.”

“I’m trying!” he shot back, his voice rising for the first time. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his frustration boiling over. “Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I don’t hate myself for dragging you into my mess?”

“I didn’t ask for perfect, Bucky,” you said, your voice shaking. “I just wanted you. But you can’t even give me that, can you?”

The tension snapped like a breaking wire. He turned sharply, his movements abrupt, knocking a glass from the counter. It hit the floor and shattered, the sound ringing out like a gunshot in the suffocating silence.

You both froze, staring at the pieces scattered across the floor. The sharp edges glinted in the fading light, and you couldn’t help but think how perfectly they mirrored the state of your heart.

“I can’t do this,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t keep trying to fix something that doesn’t wanna be fixed.”

His head snapped up, his eyes wide and almost panicked. “Baby, don’t—”

But you held up a hand, cutting him off. “No. You don’t get to keep doing this. You don’t get to keep tearing me apart just because you’re scared.”

You turned away from him, walking to the window where the last rays of the sun bled across the sky. The red hues painted the room, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch forever. You felt his presence behind you, silent and heavy, but he didn’t move closer.

“Do you even love me?” you asked, your voice trembling.

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer. Then, quietly, he said, “More than anything.”

You closed your eyes, a single tear slipping down your cheek. “Then why does it feel like I’m the only one fighting for us?”

When you finally turned to face him, the sight of him nearly broke you. His shoulders were slumped, his expression a mixture of pain and regret. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.

“I think you need to leave,” you said softly, the words tasting like ash on your tongue.

“No,” he said quickly, his voice thick with emotion. He took a step toward you, but you shook your head.

“Bucky, please,” you said, your voice breaking. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

He stopped, his hands clenching at his sides. For a long moment, the two of you just stared at each other, the weight of everything left unsaid hanging heavy in the air.

“Loving you is the best and worst thing i've ever done,” you whispered finally, the words cutting through the silence.

He flinched, the pain in his eyes unmistakable. But he didn’t argue. He didn’t beg. Instead, he stepped back, his red leather jacket catching the dying light like embers.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely audible.

And then he turned and walked away.

You stood there long after he was gone, staring at the shattered glass on the floor, the red hues of the sunset fading into the gray of twilight. The silence in the room was deafening, and the absence of him felt like a physical ache, a hollow space where your heart had been.

You wanted to scream, to cry, to rage against the unfairness of it all. But all you could do was sink to the floor, your knees pulling to your chest as you clutched the scarf around your neck—the same red scarf you’d worn the night you met him.

The memory of him lingered, vivid and unrelenting, like a fire that refused to be extinguished. And as the last light disappeared, leaving the room bathed in shadows, you realized that some scars never really fade.

Loving him had been a blaze of color, bright and beautiful and all-consuming. But now, all that was left was the ash.

Dark Grey

Years later, you would still catch yourself tracing the edges of your life, searching for the faint marks Bucky had left on it. They were everywhere—small, quiet reminders that had become part of you. A fleeting song lyric. A warm breeze on a rainy day. The streak of red in a sunset that made your breath hitch.

Not all loves were meant to last forever. You knew that now. But the ones that didn’t stay still had the power to change you. Some were fleeting, like sparks that burn brightly before fading, but even when the fire dies, it leaves a mark. A scar. A memory. A piece of yourself you couldn’t reclaim.

And Bucky had left you with all three.

You moved on in the ways that mattered. You built a life filled with steady, small joys—the kind of life you never would have imagined in those tumultuous days with him. There was laughter and comfort, new love and old friends, and yet, there was always that quiet space inside you that belonged to him.

Because loving Bucky had been unforgettable. It had been red—vivid, bold, and impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t just the good that stayed with you, though. It was the ache, too—the lingering hollow of his absence that sometimes felt like it echoed in your chest.

You remembered the way his hand had felt in yours, steady and warm, even when everything around you felt like it was unraveling. The way his voice, low and rough, could calm you and set you alight in the same breath.

And you remembered the way he looked at you—like you were something he wanted to hold onto but didn’t know how to keep. Like he was terrified of you slipping away, even as he kept his distance.

You didn’t regret loving him. How could you? Even with the heartbreak, the unanswered questions, the nights spent missing him so fiercely you thought it might tear you apart, Bucky had given you something no one else had.

He’d made you feel alive.

One night, as you wandered home after a late dinner with friends, the city felt unusually quiet. The streets were slick with rain, the glow of streetlights reflecting off the pavement in golden pools. You’d tucked your red scarf tighter around your neck, the fabric trailing behind you as the cool wind nipped at your cheeks.

And then you felt it—him.

It wasn’t something you could explain. It wasn’t logical or rooted in reason. It was a pull, a magnetic force that had always drawn you to him, no matter how far apart you’d been.

You stopped mid-step, your eyes scanning the crowded street. At first, it felt silly—just your mind playing tricks on you again, filling strangers’ faces with memories of him. But then you saw him.

Across the street, standing near the entrance to a dimly lit diner, was a figure you’d know anywhere. The dark hair. The broad shoulders. The familiar slouch of someone trying not to be noticed but failing anyway.

Your breath caught. For a moment, the world narrowed to just him, the sound of your heartbeat thundering in your ears.

You hesitated, your feet frozen to the pavement. And then, as if sensing you, he turned.

His eyes found yours across the distance, and the breath you’d been holding escaped in a sharp gasp. It was him. It wasn’t a trick of the light, wasn’t your imagination conjuring his ghost again.

It was Bucky.

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. His hair was shorter now, his stubble heavier, but his eyes were the same—piercing, sharp, filled with something you couldn’t name.

He took a step toward you, and for a moment, you thought he might cross the street. But instead, he stopped just at the edge of the curb.

“Red suits you,” he said, his voice low and familiar, carrying over the noise of the city.

The words hit you like a tidal wave, dragging you under. Red suits you. He’d said it to you once before, years ago, as he wrapped your scarf around your neck on a bitterly cold night, pulling you close to kiss you before the wind could steal the moment.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. What could you say?

But he didn’t wait for you to answer. With one last lingering look, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, slipping away as easily as he always had.

You stood there for what felt like hours, staring at the spot where he’d been, your heart racing and your mind spinning. You didn’t know why he’d been there, why he’d said what he had, or why he’d left again so quickly.

But as the rain began to fall again, you smiled, your hand instinctively reaching up to tug your scarf tighter.

Some loves weren’t meant to last forever.

But some burned too brightly to ever truly fade.

And as you turned and walked into the night, the rain soaking your hair and your scarf trailing behind you, you couldn’t help but feel like you were exactly where you were meant to be—haunted, alive, and forever marked by him.

Because loving Bucky had been red. And somehow, you knew, that story wasn’t finished yet.

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86espresso · 5 hours ago

Text

dancing is a dangerous game ⋆.˚ ★—ONE

(au masterlist)

SUM ; he did not 🙅‍♀️ wrap it before he tapped it

WARNINGS ; finding out that you’re pregnant, whole lot of awkward talking bc that’s what I’m best at 👍, mostly humor, zegras is jobless, fluff, oc character (readers bsf), kissing? allusions to sex, drinking, anxiety

NOTES ; first fic we ball 🙂‍↕️

WC ; 2.3k

“Your place, or mine?”

Your place or mine?

Your place or mine.

Jack Hughes wishes he was cool enough to say it the way his older brother did, but unfortunately, he was not that gifted. Matter of Quinn being more articulate and approachable.

The only times Jack actually got some was when a girl approached him, or when they were done with the whole third date thing.

Tonight, he decided he would telepathically flirt with you by staring across the room. To him, this is the most effective form of flirting. You’d have to catch his eyes eventually.

Your hair was wild, eyeliner smudged and lipstick blotted, the thrill and the alcohol had you dancing and singing and acting lively, he immediately needed to know you better.

Judging by your energy and the way you sang along to every single song made him believe you might be a fun person to hang out with outside of having you in his bed.

God, he’s already formed a false version of you in his head.

Jack winced, feeling Trevor’s razor of an elbow poking at his rib.

“Literally just talk to her, bro.”

Jack stood there blinking and watched as Trevor switched out their drinks, giving him the stronger one out of the two. He covered his rib before Trevor could bruise it again.

“Christ, don’t do that. I can’t just go up to her and talk. Look at her.”

Trevor looked. He didn’t really see much besides a pretty girl getting shitfaced. He just shrugged and made Jack chug the strong drink, ordering two more for him to push him further.

The rest of was bits and pieces in Jack’s memory. He did, indeed, get as shitfaced as you. He remembers you coming over after noticing his gaze, resting your head on his shoulder (he nearly shat his pants), taking a sip out of his shot glass boldly and telling him that you liked it. That may have been a life altering experience for him; he thanked whichever god he pleased enough to deserve this.

The alcohol messed up his memory a bit; but he remembers your lips on his neck in the cab, his lips on your hipbones, and the warmth of your body close to his right before he drifted to sleep.

And now, it’s morning. He’s cold, alone, heavily disoriented, and doesn’t know his own name.

He realized he doesn’t know your name either, and came to the disappointing realization that you hadn’t even left a note with your number before making your departure. With a frown, he realized he would probably never see you again.

[•••]

“There again? I thought you’d give up by now, buddy.”

Jack knew that Trevor knew that he was borderline desperate to meet you again, but it still made him indignant; he did not need to call him out.

“I just think it’s a fun place, Z. Doesn’t mean I’m going there for someone specifically.” He busied himself with the chips aisle, looking for the one weird flavor he’d been wanting. He could feel Trevor’s eye roll at the back of his head.

Yes, it’s been two goddamn months since that night.

Yes, he’s been suspiciously frequenting the bar since then.

No, there is no correlation between those events and you.

Trevor opened his mouth again, but that’s when they heard two voices arguing in the aisle next to him. Jack turned around and raised a brow at Trevor, a silent invitation to eavesdrop. He, of course, took the bait.

Now, when Trevor and Jack say they hate drama, they mean they hate being involved in it. Other people’s drama, however? They’re watching like hawks.

“Winnie, I don’t want to hear about it anymore.” Female. Familiar.

“But it’s only fair.” Female. Unfamiliar. “It’s that man’s fault his condom was too big either way! Plus, if he’s the fath—”

“The condom was too small of anything—”

At that moment, Jack moved a little too close to the rack of salsa dip, and rattled it hard, loudly enough for the ladies to pause their conversation. He cussed under his breath, hoping they would assume he just got there. He tried to ignore Trevor’s attempt at stifling his laugh.

“Excuse me? Are you alright?” You turn around the corner, and of course: It’s you, and Jack is elated.

He looks genuinely happy. You look like you just watched someone get skinned alive.

You immediately turn around, trying (and failing) to pretend like you didn’t see him. “Oh my god—Winnie, this is the guy. Save me.” You whisper desperately, watching Jack quickly fix the salsa dips in the corner of your eye before he turns to you fully.

“You—uh.” The words just won’t come out.

Trevor tried to save him. “Hi, im Trevor.” He sticks out his hand which you take. “You must be my one night stand-in law.” He grins.

Your eyes shift between him and Jack. “You’ve slept with him too?”

His hand goes limp in yours as Winnie graciously snorts with laughter. Luckily, that catches Trevor’s attention and he moves to greet her.

Jack decided, in that moment, that he just short circuited seeing you in sweatpants and a hood covering your head with strands of hair peeking out to frame your bare face. A contrast to when he first saw.

“Well, h-how have you been?” You ask awkwardly, wishing you could drop dead right about now.

“Pretty good. Yourself?” He leans gently against the shelf and crosses his arms, looking down at you with a small smile.

“Oh, I’ve been alright.” You laugh weekly and bring your hand up to rub your tired eyes; sleep was a privilege nowadays. You were about to indicate that you had to leave before stopping short at Winnie glaring holes in the side your face, knowing that your chances of escaping were gone and she wouldn’t let down until you told him. Winnie smiled warmly and turned to Jack, sticking her hand out.

“You must be Drew.”

“Jack.” He furrowed his eyebrows, shaking her hand. “That actually sounds nothing like Drew—”

“Oh, fuck, don’t worry about it, it was just a random name we ran with.” You laugh again, fiddling with the boxes in your hands.

Jack desperately wanted to say something like ‘you’ve talked about me?’ but it was clear that you were trying to avoid him like the plague, so he refrained from ruining his chances to talk to you any further.

Winnie whispered something to Trevor which made his eyes comically widen, then they pretended to busy themselves with the shelves of chocolates.

“You look nice.” Jack smiled, you really did look pretty. Tired, probably a little sick, but pretty. “Like, glowing-”

“Jesus, please, not a glow.” You groan, putting your face in your hands. Jack’s gaze drops to the boxes you were holding.

“What are those?”

Your breath caught in your throat. Him noticing was the final nail to the coffin. It made your situation real-er than ever.

With a supportive glance from Winnie, and a deep inhale, you look at Jack again. Into those pretty, azure eyes that drew you to him in the first place.

“Pregnancy tests?” You say meekly, though it sounded more like you were asking. You hated how weak it sounded. “Look I don’t even know if I even am pregnant—”

The salsa dip rack shook again as Jack held on to it. “Oh—”

“Listen, look,” you move closer to him, “you can literally never see me or the kid, if it exists, ever again. I’m financially stable and I have lots of friends here that support me, so—”

“Wait, you’re sure it’s mine?” His voice felt like an echo to himself.

“Uh—yeah. That’s part of the reason I left, I’ve never exactly done one-time things. And I only knew you for that one night, so I kind of panicked. Being with a stranger.” You fumble with the boxes again, your anxiety peeking because even though you shouldn’t care, his lack of response was stressful.

He seemed to notice that, because next thing he was putting both of his hands on your shoulders. It was weird but made you feel a little calmer.

“Hey—it’s not like I’m upset with you or anything, okay? I—uh, think you—we should first make sure you are pregnant.” He loosens his hold a bit and steps closer. “And if you plan on keeping it, I want to be there. For you and the kid, I mean. Stick around, y’know? I can’t imagine life without my dad.”

His sentiment made you heavily emotional; this was kind of intimate for people who barely knew each other, but intimacy is how you ended up here anyway.

You sniffle, nodding. You weren’t exactly sick, but you weren’t feeling your best.

Jack felt his heart go soft and he hugged you, enveloping you in much needed warmth. When you wrapped your arms around him, you caught Winnie’s eye over his shoulder and were sure of a few things;

One, If you were having a baby, you’re keeping it. You’re still young, but you’ve always wanted to be a young mother, even if it was with a father you knew better. Your support system was very fortunately intact, even without Jack.

And two, you were sure that Jack would keep his promise of ‘sticking around’.

[•••]

“So, like, what do you do?” Jack’s head snapped up to meet Winnie’s sharp gaze.

The four of them had just walked into your apartment and you locked yourself in the bathroom with the tests. Winnie and Trevor hit it off immediately but she was still skeptic of Jack.

“Hm?”

“Your job? Wait, don’t tell me you don’t—”

“I have a job.” Jack rolled his eyes “I play.” He replied shortly, his head still spinning.

“Play? Fuck does that mean? Like poker, the guitar, or what?” Winnie squinted her eyes. “If I catch anything weird about you, you’re out.” Jack didn’t miss the way Trevor grinned stupidly at her.

“I play hockey. Professionally. Just 20 minutes away, in Jersey.” Jack huffed, he didn’t like the added stress of appealing to your best friend.

“Hm. Interesting, can’t say I’ve ever heard of you, Drew—”

“Jack—”

“Hold on.” She typed something on her phone and turned it to him. “Is this you?” It is Jack’s instagram profile, so he nods. She scrolls through his following and quirks a brow, “your following looks like you just graduated from a private, all-girls high school.”

Jack doesn’t even know what to say to that, much less what it means, so he just stays quiet before the bathroom door unlocks.

“Winnie, 3 minute timer, please,” you say, drying your hands on a towel, eyeing the five tests lined up on the counter face down. You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the anxiety crawl back up your spine.

You let yourself relax at Jack’s soothing back rubs, and observe quietly for a moment while he scowled at whatever Winnie and Trevor were making fun of him for. His jawline is just barely peppered with stubble and he smells really nice. You can see why he was the choice that night.

Jack is quick to look back at you, having to tilt his head slightly downwards as he catches the expression on your face.

“It’s going to okay,” he mouths.

And when you flipped over every test to see that you had a real life shit-machine growing inside of you, you believed him.

[•••]

Jack got off the phone with his mother with a small breath of relief. The hundreds of insecurities that initially made their way through his head were overshadowed by a feeling of happiness; his mother was quick to assure him that it won’t be that difficult to figure it out.

Winnie was kneeling in front of you on the couch, trying to be comforting. Or something like that.

“Kill that thing.”

“Winnie, what the hell?”

“Babe, you have work! You have other things to do! And—” she lowered her voice, “—Drew might not be around that much to help.” She straightened again. “If you really want to keep it then it’s up to you, though.” She added softly.

You appreciated Winnie’s outlook on your situation, but that wasn’t what you needed because you were really, genuinely, sure you were keeping the kid.

“For the third time, it’s Jack. Why—?”

“I’m sorry, she’s just like that.” You speak up, finding the small frown on Jack’s face rather endearing. “What—uh, what did your mom say?”

“She wants to meet you. She’s happy.”

“That’s really sweet.” You say with a yawn, exhausted from the days events. Jack’s mother seems nice, but you were too tired to feel scared of her at the moment.

Jack notices that you were tired and nudged Trevor so they leave, but not before everyone exchanged numbers.

[•••]

The next available weekend Jack’s mom could come over was in two weeks. Which meant he had to keep the little secret from everyone around him. Well, except Trevor.

Jack could feel himself already growing protective of his..son? daughter? Still, it was just insane to him that he was going to have a child. His own child.

He can handle the scrutiny, but he was afraid for you and how you would have to deal with all of the outside pressure.

He shrugged off the thoughts, chugged the rest of his beer, and decided to just sleep on it.

Waking up after a good rest, Jack realized he was more excited than anything. Who cares what people say? He’s always wanted kids and off the top of his head, he doesn’t know anyone better than you that he would have them with.

He’ll just have to be really impressive and devoted to gain your trust.

And that’s what he was going to do.

#dancing is a dangerous game au 🪷#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes smut #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x y/n

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psycheandmind · 2 days ago

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"How do I assume?"

"How to assume" is one of the simplest yet most misunderstood things when it comes to manifestation. People try to overcomplicate it, turning it into some big process with rules and steps, but honestly, it’s way more natural than that. You already assume things all the time, whether you realize it or not. You assume that when you wake up, your feet will touch the ground, that your phone will work, that your favorite coffee shop will have your usual drink. All day long, you’re assuming the reality of things.

Manifestation is the same thing—just assume it’s already done. It’s not about waiting, it’s not about waiting for the universe to show you something. No, no, no—it’s all in your head. The moment you assume something is true, it becomes true for you. You don’t need to figure out how it will come, because that’s not the point. The point is that it already exists, and by assuming it, you align with that version of reality.

When you're thinking to yourself, instead of focusing on wanting the iPhone or dog, you would naturally start assuming you already have them.

So, how TO assume:

Well how do you usually think? i usually talk to myself.

What do want? i want a new iPhone.

Now just like you usually think tell yourself you already have that iPhone: "omg wow I have my new iPhone hmm what wallpaper should I use? oh I have to pick a case for it now! I cant wait to show my friends my new iPhone!"

ANOTHER EXAMPLE:

How do u think? I visualise scenarios.

What do u want? a dog.

Now like you usually think, assume that u already have that dog: *visualising a cute puppy licking my hands and wiggling its tail. watching it play with a toy I bought it. imagining me petting it and laughing*

So, when you think about “how to assume,” remember it’s as simple as talking to yourself/imagining like it's real. "Oh, my new iPhone is so shiny and perfect," or "My dog is always so excited to see me." That’s how you assume. It’s not some grand process. It’s just you choosing what reality you’re in and sticking with it. Period.

You DON'T have to overthink it. You don’t have to wonder if it’s working. If you’re assuming it, it’s done. The more natural you make it, the easier it becomes. No need to analyze, no need to second-guess. It’s simple: decide, assume and done.

#law of assumption #loassumption #loa success #manifestation #manifesting #master manifestor #neville goddard #self concept #loa tumblr #reality shifting #sammy ingram #loass post #loassblog #loassblr #loass states #loablr

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carlossreaders · 3 days ago

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WIP WEDNESDAY

“I wish I could have met nonna,” Isabel says softly, the two of their children having been told many stories of how wonderful a lady Gwyneth Morgan was. “Me too,” Elias declares, hands on his hips.

“God, she couldn’t wait to be a grandma. Right after papa and I got married she was asking when we would have kids, which was a sensitive subject at first because we hadn’t made a decision on whether we wanted any or not. I wish she was here to see me now, with two of the most spectacular children on the planet. I’m so lucky,” there is emotion tied in TK’s voice as he talks of his mother.

“We both are,” Carlos says, looking at the three people around him with what his children would call ‘heart eyes’. He feels so grateful to have them, and he hopes they feel the same about him, and if they don’t, he will work damn hard to make them feel that way.

we’re at 42k words!! 😉

no pressure tags! @lutavero @heartstringsduet @goodways @paperstorm @lightningboltreader @strandnreyes @reyesstrand @bonheur-cafe @alrightbuckaroo @welcometololaland @rmd-writes @liminalmemories21 @orchidscript @three-drink-amy @honeybee-taskforce @theghostofashton @pimento-playing-hopscotch @herefortarlos @sapphic--kiwi @emsprovisions @ironheartwriter @tellmegoodbye @the-126-family @captain-gillian @butchreyes @whatsintheboxmh @chicgeekgirl89 @carlos-in-glasses @eclectic-sassycoweyes @lemonlyman-dotcom @freneticfloetry @never-blooms @bonheur-cafe @decafdingo @corsage @nisbanisba @henrygrass @nancys-braids @irispurpurea @everlastingday @carlos-tk @pameluke @orchidscript @literateowl @thisbuildinghasfeelings

#911 lone star #911 ls #tk strand #tarlos #carlos reyes #tarlos fic #kynz fic #writers on ao3 #writers on tumblr #tarlos with kids #kid fic #fanfic #fan fiction #wip wednesday

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dadbodbuck · 2 days ago

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wip wednesday

tagged by @sleepywinchesters and @firehose118! this is a bit from a commissioned piece i'm doing for @autumnknight where buck and tommy get high and talk about the things they didn't talk about while they were together

Evan passes Tommy the glass of water sitting on his coffee table and waits for Tommy to take a drink. “I don’t think I’ll ever really understand why you did that. But I get it. Maddie used to do the same thing. When I dropped out of college—the second time, and it was community college, so you can imagine how thrilled my parents were about that—I made a plan to leave with her and start over. Go anywhere but Hershey, together. And she agreed at first, and then… nothing. She left me with the keys to her car a note about how she couldn’t do it. And now I know it’s because her piece of shit husband was a piece of shit, but at the time…” “It was like she just dropped you out of nowhere?” Tommy figures, a creeping realization clawing up his stomach. It makes him feel kind of sick. “That’s been the story of my life,” Evan laughs sardonically, passing the joint back to Tommy, “People leave me, and it hurts, and I never know why, and that hurts worse.”

tagging anyone who sees this and wants to participate!

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cuntressgoingdigital · 2 days ago

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RUNAWAY | abby anderson x reader

free palestine! click this link for more info

synopsis: you and abby are in a mutually destructive situationship. after everything you put each other through, you both always find you way back to one another.

notes: gonna be sooo honest, this isn't going to be everyone's cup of tea and that's okay! heed the content warnings. this is a super angsty catharsis piece.

cw: 18+ content MDNI, reader referred to as a girl, alcohol ment., top! abby, mutually toxic relationship, no happy ending, honestly neither of y'all are good people

word count: 1k

all you could do was sigh when you read the text that popped up on your phone.

can i see you tn?

it was 2AM, you and your friends were on the way back home from the club. you had texted abby hours ago. you always did this after drinking. not because your judgment was impaired, instead you wanted to be able to blame your actions on the alcohol. you would’ve texted her completely sober. you often did.

“what are you staring at on your phone?” your friend tried to snap you out of it, but nothing would stop you. your friends learned to stop trying.

the text interaction was instigated by you, around 8PM, after one sip of a cocktail your friend had made for you.

fuck you abby

who is this new girl?

what happened to all the shit you said last week?

she had posted a picture with some pretty redhead on her arm, her face buried in the crook of abby’s neck. she always did this. she knew it would make you mad.

and you always took the bait.

now it was 3AM, your friends had left you for the night, and abby was knocking on your door. you had sobered up in the last hour or so. your mind was clear. all of your actions were your own.

immediately abby leaned in for an embrace, prompting you to practically leap back.

“who the fuck is she?” there was an undeniable venom in your voice. you didn’t have time for pleasantries.

abby moved past you, crossing the threshold into your apartment. “she’s one of manny’s exes. we’re still cool so me and nora had dinner with her. that’s it.”

cue the inevitable repetitive screaming match that you two would end up in once every few weeks. the walls were thin and you knew your neighbors could hear. luckily, they minded their business.

“abby it’s like you don’t give a fuck about my feelings! all week you're texting me ‘i miss you’, ‘you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel this way’. what happened to that?”

you couldn’t ever stay mad at her. you used the same playbook she did. after a couple weeks of not talking, a post on social media would lure her back in. an “accidental”

i had so much fun with you last night <3

that was immediately unsent. it was a song and dance that both of you were perpetually stuck in. after this long, it felt like you couldn’t leave the dancefloor now.

for the record, abby wasn’t lying. it was just dinner. nothing else. it was clear the girl wanted her. hugging her for just a moment too long, getting a little too handsy when they went to the club together, the frequent requests for one on one hangouts.

abby wasn’t anywhere near interested.

she didn’t want any of the girls she would entertain for a week, sometimes a month (never longer). she couldn’t fuck them without thinking of you. without missing you. one too many times when a girl was between her legs she had accidentally uttered your name.

that’s why every argument resulted in the pure bliss of hate filled make up sex. whoever was on the receiving end of the accusations would placate the other with ‘they dont mean anything’, ‘i just miss you so fucking much’, ‘i wanna be with you’.

that night when you’re face down in the mattress, back arched, her strap buried impossibly deep inside you, you forget everything. the reasons you hate her. why you would never work. she takes you by the chin and pulls you up, back flush against her chest, fucking up into you while she whispered in your ear.

“fuck, you look so good like that. my pretty girl.”

you would always be her’s.

“such a fucking slut. only running back to me when you need to be fucked back into your place, yeah?” she hoped that wasn’t true. she wants to hear you say that it isn’t true.

“i love you, abby.” was all you could manage to say between thrusts.

abby starts thrusting with a fervor. her hands were gripping your hips so tight you feared they might bruise. she knows your body so well that she can tell when you’re about to cum. you’d dig your nails into her arms, gasping for air, whimpering her name.

“i love you too, baby girl.”

that was all it took for the floodgates to open.

neither of you had lied. you both loved each other more than anything in the world. you said it during arguments, over dinner, at the end of a phone call, and most often during sex.

if it came down to it, you would die for one another.

the orgasm was so intense it brought tears to your eyes. abby could fuck you for hours, and she often did, especially when you were mad at her. tonight was one of those nights. by the time the sun had fully risen in the sky you were both sweaty, sore, and exhausted.

you spent the next few weeks together. she had a key to your apartment that you hadn’t taken back after any of your fallouts. after work, you would find her at home, making your favorites for dinner. she came and went as she pleased, but you knew she’d be back. such was the nature of your relationship.

when it’s good, it’s amazing. when it’s bad, it’s miserable. the good never lasted long. your record best was a little more than two months. then, one of you would get antsy, terrified of the ‘what are we?’ conversation.

after being away from each other, the monotony of peace set in. one of you would find a way to snake back in.

you were mutually destroying each other. you knew that. abby knew that. a happy ending wasn’t likely for either of you.

but, that was okay.

she was familiar. this was easier. you had to leave or live with it.

and here you were, laying in her arms, pressing kisses against her chest and collarbones, while she whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #nisa writes #honestly i love writing fics with no happy ending #divider by cafekitsune

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iloveelvisss · 1 day ago

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Hiiiii!!! If you have time, I would like to request a fic of cowboy!Elvis X shy!reader.

Now, this one can be a little blurb or a whole fic, I do not mind, whatever makes you comfortable girliee 🫶

Where reader is entering a bar(could be in modern times) from being on the road for 6 hours straight moving to a new house in another state and when she's walking around shyly, trying to be as small as possible, Elvis notices her and immediately becomes obsessed with her and decides to go flirt?

Kinda random but I think that would be so cute🤭

Take all the time you need!❤️

Awww, ofccc!!! Love this just like I love talking to you about our man💓. Hope I can do you justice with this!!!

Cute lil’ cowboy (Elvis fic)

Pairing: cowboy!Elvis x shy!Reader

Summary: While driving to your new home, you stop in at a small town bar, just wanting a break from the long trip. You catch the eye of a certain local cowboy and he tries his hand at opening you up.

Warnings/triggers: None, I don’t think. Mostly just fluff💓

At this point, you sort of wished you’d said no to the job offer. All it was, was a secretary position for some big company, and you thought now that you’d been on the road for six whole hours, that your old job was much better. And your old apartment was quite comfortable (it wasn’t, you just wanted another thing to complain about on this torturous car trip).

So as you pulled into the next town, you park your car outside a quaint little bar. The town is small, and it’s quite obvious, but you desperately need a break from this awful drive, so you get out anyways.

But your introverted self regrets it as you enter the bar, and the little bell on the door alerts every patron of your out-of-place presence. Every single pair of eyes zero in on you, and you suddenly feel as though you can’t breathe. You’ve always been shy— your mother always tried to get you out of such a habit. But in situations like being in a bar in a town you’ve never been before, with people that look like they’re judging your every move, you lose your ability to speak— or look up from the floor.

Unbeknownst to you, one particular pair of eyes can’t look away, even after everyone else has went back to minding their own business. Elvis just thinks you’re absolutely gorgeous. The way you so obviously feel uncomfortable is just adorable to him. He wants to talk to you— no needs to talk to you. He wants to know who’s under the cute little shy cover. You intrigue him in a way no other passing-through woman has.

He saunters over to you, and he’s keen on the way your eyes widen— it makes him smile. He tips his hat as he sits beside you. “Hi there. Ain’t seen ya before, what’s yer name, darlin’?” He makes sure to pile on the charm, putting on his most attractive smile.

And then there’s a large amount of time where he just gets to watch you sputter and act like a child that can’t speak yet. But all the while he’s smiling, finding your shyness endearing.

Finally, after what feels like an agonizingly long time, you sigh and find your words, “I- I’m… I’m Y/N. S’ nice to meet you,” you smile cutely and awkwardly stick out your hand, to which he presses a soft kiss to. “Aw, well that’s a pretty name for pretty lil’ thing like you. My name is Elvis,” he sets your hand down and then stuns you with piercing eye contact— his eyes are absolutely beautiful, so blue and electric. “Now, what brings ya in here?”

You look around before attempting to maintain eye contact again. “Needed a break from my road trip. I’m moving for a job.” You smile back at him and he swears it almost makes him drop dead. He nods along, “I see, I see. So ya wanna ‘nother drink, darlin’? S’ on me.”

It’s about then that you backtrack on your earlier thoughts, and are actually quite grateful you stopped in here. You also find yourself wondering what his pretty lips would be like to kiss. He seems to notice because a small smirk shows up on said lips. You shake yourself from your trance, “U- um, yes. Yeah, that’d be great, thank you so much.” You stumble over your words, embarrassed you’d been caught staring. He notices your blush, but it only makes him smirk even more.

He nods and asks the bartender, who you now know is Albert, for two beers. And then for the next thirty minutes, he pulls out all the tricks to get you out of your shell— it works. You’re giggling and talking and having an amazing time by the time you finish your beer.

You look up from a giggling fit to his eyes piercing into you with an expression you can quite place. All you know is that it sends butterflies flying through your belly. “What…?”

Your tone is nervous, thinking maybe he’s lost interest or something, or that your laugh has made him question himself— you’ve always been a chronic overthinker. But he makes you gasp as he reaches up and pushes some of your hair behind your ear.

His voice is gentle and sweet— reverent, “I wanna kiss ya. Would ya like that, honey?”

Your breath leaves you and you just stare at him with wide eyes for at least two minutes. He starts to pull away, second-guessing himself, as you begin nodding. He then smiles dazzlingly.

It seems like the world stops as he leans in. His lips feel plush and oh so amazing as they press against yours. You respond almost immediately, and fireworks shoot off.

When he pulls back, he’s already grinning. “How ‘bout ya jus’ get back on the road in the mornin’? My house makes for a great hotel.”

You find yourself giggling yet again as you nod, “I think that’s a great idea. Thank you, Elvis.”

I’ve come to the realization that I just don’t like any of my writing and I’m my biggest critic, but I wanted to get this out like I promised. Much love to all of you lovies, and I hope you might enjoy anyway?😋🤠 (also Happy Thanksgiving to everyone who celebrates).

Tags: @queenstarlight @jhoneybees (lmk if you wanna be added)

#elvisaaronpresley #elvis presley #elvis fic #vintage #70s #elvis fans #elvis the pelvis #elvis x reader #elvis x y/n #fanfic #70s elvis #60s elvis #50s elvis #elvis fandom #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfiction #fanfiction #elvis the king

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scarletwinterxx · 12 hours ago

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benefit of friends - kim mingyu imagine

god really made this man to be the most perfect one😭 how to get your own kim mingyu (asking for a friend) lol anyways hope you like this one!

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

(pic not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You’ve always been good at compartmentalizing.

Work is work. Fun is fun. Feelings? Well, they’re like those receipts stuffed into your wallet... you’ll deal with them later.

Your arrangement with Mingyu, your ridiculously handsome coworker-turned-“friend-with-benefits,” was supposed to fall neatly into the “fun” category.

No strings, no expectations, no messy emotions.

But tonight, at the company dinner, you’re beginning to realize that neatly labeled boxes have a way of getting jumbled when Mingyu’s around.

The restaurant is buzzing with chatter, glasses clinking, and the hum of soft music in the background. His deep, warm laugh carries over the noise, drawing glances from everyone at your table. He’s always been effortlessly charming, with his broad shoulders, that perfect smile, and a sense of humor that’s impossible to resist.

And right now, someone else seems to have noticed.

A junior marketing associate, her name slips your mind, but she’s all bright eyes and flirty giggles. She's leaning just a little too close to him. Her hand grazes his arm as she laughs at something he said, and you swear you see her fingers linger there for a moment longer than necessary.

Your chest tightens, and you quickly take a sip of your wine, hoping the bitterness will drown the unfamiliar feeling clawing its way up your throat.

Jealousy.

It’s ridiculous, really. You and Mingyu aren’t together.

You’ve both made it clear: this is casual. Easy. No messy emotions, remember?

So why does it bother you so much when he leans in to whisper something to her, his grin widening as she laughs again?

“Are you okay?” a colleague asks, pulling you out of your spiral.

“Yeah, fine,” you reply, forcing a smile.

But your eyes can’t help darting back to Mingyu.

Later, as the group begins to thin out, people leaving one by one, you make your way to the bar for another drink.

You need something. Anything to steady your nerves. You’re swirling your glass idly when you feel someone slide onto the stool beside you.

“You’ve been awfully quiet tonight,” Mingyu says, his voice low and teasing.

You don’t turn to look at him immediately. “I’m just tired,” you lie.

“Hmm,” he hums, leaning a little closer. You can feel the warmth radiating off him, and it makes your heart race.

“Tired? Or… distracted?”

That gets your attention. You glance at him, and he’s watching you with that playful glint in his eye, like he already knows exactly what’s on your mind.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, feigning indifference.

“Oh, don’t you?” He grins, and it’s infuriatingly attractive. “You’ve been glaring daggers at poor Mina all night.”

So that’s her name. Mina.

“I wasn’t glaring,” you snap, a little too defensively.

He laughs softly, leaning even closer until his shoulder brushes yours. “You were. And, for the record, it was kind of cute.”

“I wasn’t jealous, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Really?” His voice drops, and suddenly the air between you feels charged. “Because it looked a lot like jealousy to me.”

You turn to face him fully, ready to argue, but the words catch in your throat when you see the way he’s looking at you—intense, his eyes flicking briefly to your lips before meeting yours again.

“Mingyu,” you start, but your voice comes out softer than you intended.

“Relax,” he says, smirking. “I wasn’t interested in her, anyway.”

Your heart stumbles over itself, and you hate how much that admission makes your pulse race. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, turning back to your drink.

“Maybe,” he says, his voice warm and teasing, “but you like me anyway.”

The car ride home is quieter than usual. Mingyu insisted on sharing a ride, though you suspect it’s less about convenience and more about prolonging the teasing

As the car pulls up to your apartment, you hesitate for a moment. You should say goodnight and leave it at that.

But when Mingyu’s hand brushes yours as he moves to open the door, your resolve wavers.

“Want to come up?” you ask, your voice casual, though your heart is anything but.

He smiles knowingly. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Your apartment feels smaller with Mingyu in it. The tension that’s been simmering all night seems to boil over as he follows you inside, his eyes lingering on you in a way that makes your stomach flip.

“You know,” he says, his tone teasing but softer now, “if you’re going to get jealous every time someone flirts with me, we might have to renegotiate this whole ‘just friends’ thing.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you say again, though even you don’t believe it this time.

“Sure,” he says, stepping closer. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, but before you can come up with a retort, his hand cups your cheek, and suddenly you forget how to speak.

“Mingyu,” you whisper, but he cuts you off with a kiss—soft at first, almost tentative, before it deepens. His other hand finds your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.

You don’t remember moving, but somehow you end up against the kitchen counter, his lips trailing down your neck as your hands tangle in his hair.

“You’re impossible,” you murmur, though it comes out more like a sigh.

“And yet,” he says, his breath warm against your skin, “you keep me around.”

His lips find yours again, and this time there’s no teasing, no games, just the kind of intensity that leaves you breathless and wondering how you ever thought you could keep this casual.

Later, as you lie tangled together on your couch, his arm draped lazily over your waist, you realize your carefully labeled boxes have completely unraveled.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re okay with that.

It starts at a casual get-together with some of your friends. Mingyu wasn’t supposed to come. You invited him half-jokingly, figuring he’d have better things to do on a Friday night. But to your surprise, he’d shown up, effortlessly sliding into the group as if he’d always been part of it.

And now, you wish he hadn’t.

Not because you’re upset he’s here.

Far from it.

Mingyu has a way of making everything more fun. It’s just that you’re too aware of him, standing across the room, his eyes flicking to you every few seconds like he’s keeping tabs on you.

You’re talking to a guy.

what was his name again? Jae? Jin? Mingyu thought to hinself.

The guy has clearly been angling for your attention all night but you don’t notice. You’re oblivious to the way he leans a little too close when he speaks or the way his hand brushes yours unnecessarily as you reach for your drink.

Mingyu notices, though.

From his spot by the makeshift bar, he’s gripping his glass a little too tightly, his jaw clenched as he watches the scene unfold. He tells himself it’s fine—you’re not his, and he has no right to feel this way. But when Jae-or-whatever laughs a little too loud at something you’ve said, leaning in like he’s about to touch you, something snaps.

Before he knows it, he’s crossing the room.

“Hey,” Mingyu says, his voice smooth but laced with an edge as he steps between you and Jason, casually sliding his arm around your waist. “Didn’t realize you’d made a new friend.”

“Mingyu? What are you doing?” You blink up at him, surprised

“Just thought I’d check in,” he says, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. His gaze shifts to Jason, who suddenly looks less sure of himself. “Who’s this?”

Jason clears his throat. “Uh, I’m Joon. We were just talking.”

“Talking, huh?” Mingyu says, his smile sharp. “That’s nice. But I think she’s good here.”

“Mingyu—” you start, but he’s already steering you away, his hand firm on your lower back.

You glance back at Joon, who’s standing there awkwardly, but Mingyu doesn’t let you linger. He leads you out onto the balcony, where the cool night air hits your skin.

“What the hell was that?” you ask, spinning to face him.

“What was that?” he counters, his voice low and tense. “That guy was all over you.”

“He was not!” you protest. “We were just talking.”

“You’re so oblivious sometimes, you know that? He wasn’t just talking, he was hitting on you.”

You cross your arms, irritation bubbling up. “And what if he was? It’s not like you get to decide who I talk to.”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then he steps closer, the tension between you crackling like electricity.

“Maybe I don’t,” he says quietly, his voice dangerously calm. “But I didn’t like it.”

Your breath catches. His proximity, the intensity in his gaze—it’s overwhelming

“Why do you even care?” you ask, though your voice is softer now, less sure. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, and suddenly the world feels smaller, like it’s just the two of you on that balcony.

“You really don’t know, do you?”

Your heart pounds as he leans in, his forehead resting against yours

“I care,” he murmurs, his voice rough with something that feels too big to name, “because you’re mine.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and undeniable.

“Mingyu—”

He cuts you off with a kiss, his lips crashing against yours with a desperation that leaves you breathless. It’s not soft or tentative like before—it’s possessive, claiming, as if he’s trying to prove something to both of you.

You don’t resist. Instead, you pull him closer, your fingers fisting in the fabric of his shirt as his hands slide to your waist, gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

When you finally break apart, both of you breathing hard, he rests his forehead against yours again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know we said no feelings. No strings. But I can’t help it. I can’t stand the thought of anyone else having you.”

Your chest tightens, and for once, you don’t push him away. Instead, you reach up to trace the line of his jaw, your touch soft.

“You’re an idiot,” you say, but there’s no heat in your words. “But I guess you're my idiot.”

His smile is equal parts relief and triumph. “Damn right I am”

Back inside, the party continues without you, but neither of you cares. You end up in your apartment again, the tension between you finally boiling over.

This time, there’s no hesitation, no teasing. Just the two of you giving in to what’s been building for weeks. His hands are everywhere, mapping every inch of your skin like he’s memorizing you, and when you pull him down onto the couch, he follows without question.

“Say it again,” he murmurs against your neck, his voice rough and low as his lips trail downward.

“Say what?” you manage, your breath hitching as his hands slide under your shirt.

“That you’re mine,” he says, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. There’s something vulnerable in his gaze, hidden beneath all the confidence.

You cup his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “I’m yours,” you whisper, and the way his expression softens makes your heart ache.

“Good,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “Because I’m yours too.”

And this time, when he kisses you, it feels like a promise.

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yukitoopretty4yhuu · 5 hours ago

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JJK (jujutsu kaisen) HEAD-CANNONS !!!

| well, hello. Welcome to my world ! (pretty cringe, but whatever) Today I thought of some head-cannons about JJK characters. I thought long and hard on this, so I hope this gets to other people ! Not all of these are from my imagination. Some of these are from tiktokers i weally like (like trin and erika. I hope you guys know them T_T) but anyways, I’ll try to make more of these when I have time. Anyways, enough of me talking, let’s get started ! |

note: this is my first time making something like this. Let me know if you have any tips for me ! (^^)

TM (things mentioned) & WARNINGS: dating, smoking mentioned in suguru’s, guns mentioned in toji’s, mentions of killing in sukuna, mentions of family members dying in sukuna, mentions of irl crimes in toji & sukuna’s, drinking mentioned, getting drunk mentioned, roblox game “da hood” mentioned, one night stand/hook ups mentioned in toji, sukuna, and suguru’s, pregnancy mentioned in sukuna’s, cheating mentioned in suguru’s, satoru not being loyal head-cannon, spoilers in nanami’s and a little bit in toji’s, homeless & stank mentioned in toji’s, road rage mentioned in toji’s, disrespect mentioned in sukuna’s.

• Satoru Gojo:

• Hmm. Have you ever thought how Gojo would be if he had a phone? Yes. He’s the type to use emojis a-lot. He’s also a type to use them face icons like ( ˘ω˘ ). I feel like it’s so him. :3

• Gojo is NEVER serious. Though, He can be very serious. If you see THE Satoru Gojo mad or with a serious face, you KNOW it’s serious. (You see how Satoru was mostly in a cutesy and non-serious mode throughout the show unless it was something really serious? That’s why I thought of this head cannon.)

• Gojo is definitely not the type of person to be loyal. He can pull anybody for his unique features, and for his stunning look. Any girl be coming at him, and he knows exactly how to entertain them. If you actually dated THE Satoru Gojo, you would definitely be jealous with all of the girls coming up to him, and how he interacts with them.

• Gojo is the type to be the yapper in the friend group. He would yap about anything I feel like. I feel like while he yaps his butt off to Suguru AND Nanami, Suguru would often question, “what is he on about?” And as you know, Nanami would be tired of him yapping. I guarantee you.

• Gojo is definitely a kpop Stan. He’s a girl group listener. He’s the type to be a true Stan or iz*one. He would absolutely LOVE YENA. Her songs are written with a glitter pen with a puff ball at the top. Nemo-Nemo, Sugar, Smiley, and more are more likely to be his favorites. He loves songs that are written with a glittery pen with a nice poof ball at the top. Me too, Satoru, me too.

• His style? Hm. Idk. I think he would wear a Barbie like style. Pink, white, yeah. Or, something more cutesy. A cutesy style would fit him :3

• If Gojo drank alcohol, and if he got drunk, he’s a crazy drunk. He would yap about so many things, sometimes it don’t even make sense. If your at a karaoke, drunk or not, he’s singing. It will be literal gibberish if he’s drunk.

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• Suguru Geto:

• Ive been waiting for this one. I thought about these alot, so prepare ( ◠‿◠ )

• Suguru is the type of person to LOVE music (like me hehe) I feel like he would listen to rock n roll of whatever you call it, or just music bands. ( like weezer, or maybe mother mother. Maybe also tv girl. He would probably choose one of them bands. :3) and if he wants to listen to any k-rock bands, it would probably be xdinary heros. (A k-rock band under jyp entertainment.)

• Baggy clothes are definitely his thing. Especially with his long luxurious black hair out and down, beautiful. His style in this world would definitely be grunge, or harajuku I think how you spell it. (I said both because I searched up both of them on Pinterest and the same photos popped up. I got so confused so I just chose both.)

• He is the type of person to smoke. When he’s mad or something, “I need a smoke break” or if he needs/wants to smoke, “I need a smoke break.”. When he’s with a friend, he’ll ask if they smoke, and if they do and if they want to smoke at the moment, he will give them a lighter, and maybe a cigarette. (Only if they forgot their lighter and need one.)

• He is definitely the type to manspread. (Basically when they sit with their legs open, and sometimes they slouch.) or, he sits with his elbows on his knees.

• Hes the type to be in a “friends with benefits” trope. He can get touchy and clingy, even though you guys are just friends. Even if you have a boyfriend, does he look like he care? No. He tends to get jealous of your boyfriend too. In the end, (hopefully) you break up with your boyfriend for something like he cheated on you or something serious like that, and you vent to Suguru about it, and then BOOM. You guys are dating <3 (based on a fanfic I read. I reblogged it a while ago and I forgot the creators user.)

• He’s definitely the type to play an instrument. Either an electric guitar, or a regular guitar. He can also be the type to play the drums. Imagine how attractive he’ll look while drumming with a band, on stage, with his long black luxurious hair down, and with some sweat on his face. Automatically my dream man.

• He’s definitely the type to have TATTOOS AND PIERCINGS😍 nose piercings and ear piercings are definitely his thing. Maybe even eyebrow piercings. Imagine how he would look with tattoos and piercings + a muscular body.

• small note: he’s not the type to have a billion of piercings. (just a exaggeration.) he would think there’s no need. He’ll probably have double of triple piercings on his ears (including that big circle piercing he has. I don’t know what it’s called.)

•He’s the type to drive with one hand on the steering wheel, and his other arm on the arm rest. (If he has a girlfriend in the passenger seat, his hand will be on her thigh, or sometimes gently petting your hair.)

• This one is from my friend : Geto would call you a monkey and see that it hurt you feelings, then he would console you with a hug and kisses

• small note: this one is actually so cutesy awwwwww

• Suguru is also the guy to drink. I feel like he would handle it well. If he gets drunk, then he will definitely text some random stuff to people. You will definitely see a message like this, “hryzzz hie sre ypu dpinh” and you know Suguru is drunk. That man knows how to spell, so it will be obvious when he’s drunk. Sometimes, if he has a girlfriend he would try to text them “o muss ypu” but unfortunately, they accidentally texted their ex.

• side note: ouch.

• Suguru can really just take your girl, or just take you away from your man, even if he doesn’t try to. If your cheating on your man, and you hook up with him, yeah your definitely going to get addicted to doing the boombayah with him, and then your going to end up dating Suguru. Cheated on your ex boyfriend with him or not, he is still loyal to you, and you better be loyal to him back.

• side note: don’t even ask why I thought of this.

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• Kento Nanami :

• I wish they had the yellow color, but they don’t. 🥲

• Hm. Nanami is the sweetest man in jujutsu kaisen I feel like. Every time I watch moms look at Kento Nanami, they are always falling in love with him. I don’t blame them.

• Nanami is definitely a foodie. He’s not really the type to eat unhealthy food like fried food and fast food. He’s a type to be a more fancy foodie. Restaurants are definitely his thing. The fancy restaurants with foods that are the most hardest name to pronounce, I feel like he would somehow know how to pronounce them. When I try to pronounce them, I’m speaking a whole different language at that point. It’s too hard T.T

•He is the type to ADORE time with you. Things such as movie nights, or date nights, his favorite thing. His date ideas either be restaurant nights, walks around the city, or sometimes going to the movies.

• His style is more basic, but fancy. His colors are any shade of brown, not orangish brown though, white, sometimes gray, and black. His style is like academia. Light or dark academia, it fits him.

• He’s the type to be on that mewing streak, and hitting the gym every other day. Did y’all see his jawline and body in season 2? It’s like bro had a glow up. (He was always fine.) He’s also the type to use that one toy where it’s like a ball, but you bite it to strengthen your jawline. I hope y’all know what I’m talking about😭 (I saw an add on it on TikTok, I forgot what it was called.)

• small note: he’s definitely the type to mew everywhere, and everyday😭. He’s been mewing until he died in season two ._.

• He is the type to help old people cross the street, and help people with groceries like carrying them into their car. If he’s feeling generous enough, he’s also the type to pay for their groceries if they don’t have enough money for it. He is also the type of person to stand up for women and men, but mainly women. He definitely believes the rule, “men don’t hit women”

• He’s the type to listen to classical music, or jazz on the radio. He’s not really the type to listen to artists like nowadays. If he’s feels like it, he’ll listen to music like flowers by miley cyrus I think her name is, or that one song that goes like “someone put me on the double shot of whiskey”. Other than that, he’s the type to listen to classical and jazz music. Maybe opera too… opera is beautiful and calm. Hehe.

• small note: and, he’s the type to marry me. Heh.😋

• He’s also the type to handle alcohol well. The only time he will get drunk is if he’s in the comfort of his home. If he’s out drinking in public, he will be careful enough to drink 1 or 2 glasses of any alcohol. Even if Gojo convinced him to drink more, you are NOT catching that man drunk in public.

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• Kamo Choso :

• Hmm… I didn’t think of this one alot. Him and Suguru give off the same vibe to me kind of… so some of it might be the same from his.

• Choso has two sides. Cutesy, and kawaii, and horror and scary. Like art the clown. He gives off the cute vibes (sometimes…) and then he gets a little scary and horror. Also like Russian roulette. Cute song, but meaning is crazy.

• He’s definitely the type to have a creepy pasta phase before. He’s also the type to love scary games and horror movies. Five nights at Freddy’s, sonic exe, creepy pasta, ect is his stuff.

• small note: sonic exe used to be in my old childhood. I was scared of it because of the music, but it prepared me to not be scared of the horror movies now. I’m still scared of terrifier and art the clown though.

• His music taste is similar to Sugurus, but his is more…. Heavy metal. Xdinary heros, baby metal, mother mother, Sleeping with Sirens (especially a trophy father’s trophy son) is his stuff. If he feels like it, he’s the type to listen to enhypens songs like fatal trouble, given taken, and criminal love.

• His style? Grunge, or what people would call “emo” like scene, and goth. Mostly goth though, especially with the make up and stuff and the outfits, and the hairstyles, it would fit him.

• On his cutesy side, he’s definitely clingy. He enjoys being the little spoon. Especially while you play with his hair, 💋. He’s also the type to lay his head on your chest, or stomach. He would be so cute ;3

• small note: his theme song for his cutesy side would be “yachin ga hanbun?!” which is one of nana’s osts. :3

• Emojis are also his thing. He’s not the type to fit everybody else’s use of emoji. Instead of “😭” when they laugh, it’s “😅” and “😂” for him. He is also not the type of person to use short cuts when he types. Like for example, instead of “idk” he says “I don’t know” instead of “wayd” he says “what are you doing.” I mean, he was born in a different generation, he’s 150 years old😧

• hmmm…. I feel like choso isn’t the type to drink. If he was the type to drink, he would definitely get drunk easily.

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• Toji Fushiguro :

• I was waiting for this one, heh.😼 half of these are habits that I’ll do. We’re both broke after all, and I feel like we can bond if I was his age. (BROKIESSSSSSS)

• Toji is the type to road rage. Like literally. If you sit at a green light for 2 seconds, you hear loud beeping behind you. Like dang the light just turned green😭

side note: • but if you do that to him, he would either yell at you, or if he’s really mad, he’ll grab his gun, pull down his window, and shoot at you. And I promise you, bro does NOT miss.

• While he drives, he’s definitely the type to listen to that rap music. Some of it is sooooo bad, some of it is actually good. Lil mabu, sexy redd, ddosama and his friends who are also rappers I think (idk bro😭) is his type of music that you would hear BLASTING every time toji drove past you. (Before y’all start with the broke comments, shiu probably gave bro his check , and he used it for a car. He’s still homeless and stinky though.)

• If toji has a house, he’s the type to live in da hood. There will always be shootings where he live (he’s the reason for it) peoples money missing (he took your money) and music ALWAYS blasting (which is mostly from his house.)

• if toji finds the right lover, he’s the type to literally change. Suddenly, he’s caring, he’s clingy, and he’s alot nicer to you.

• small note: if somebody hurts you or do anything to you, your never seeing them again.

• Toji is the type to be a BIG curser. It can be around kids, or parents, or even random strangers in public, he’s cursing any chance he gets.

• He’s a different version of the spare change dude on TikTok. (Y’all remember him) begging people for money walking by.

• if you tell toji to do the “give me my money” trend, I guarantee you after the video, he’ll be like “where my money” like erm, it was a trend.

• I hear this so much times every time I read a fanfic of him. Nicknames like “doll” “sweets” or “pretty little thing” is definitely what he’s calling you. Dating or not, stranger or not, he’s calling you that. (If he feels like it.) if you make him mad, he’s definitely calling you woman.

• invite this man to a part with alcohol, he is definitely coming and drinking. Sometimes he would get drunk, sometimes he wouldn’t. Can he handle alcohol? Hmmmm… yes.

• Every party you invite this man to, he is ALWAYS leaving with a one night stand. After they hook up, he’s leaving her on the hotel bed, and he is OUT.

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last one :

• Ryomen Sukuna :

• Sukuna is a big and grumpy man. I’ve been thinking about this alot, so let’s get into it !

• Sukuna definitely has the “I do NOT give a flip” mindset. You see the last item of something in the store, you go and grab it, it’s gone. You look to your left, and you see ryomen sukuna having the exact same item in your hand. “Erm, I was ge”- “I do not care.” oh. He then walks away with the item.

• Sukuna does NOT know the word “permission.” He’s the type to make you his slave or girlfriend without even asking you. Like dang (＾ｰ^)

• You are NOT catching bro calling you cute names like “sweetheart” “doll” not even “love” no. You’re getting “woman” or “human” or, maybe just your name if he even knows your name.

• if he actually loves you, he’s really possessive. Somebody looks at you too hard? Gone. Somebody tries to hit you up? Gone. Somebody cat calls you? Gone. Somebody gets a little too close to you? You guessed it. Gone.

• He’s the type to hide what he actually wants. If he wants to cuddle with you, he is not telling you that. If he wants to kiss you, he is NOT telling you that. Even such a tough man is a little shy at some things.

• He is over 1000 years old, he is from the ancient times. So, he does NOT know how to do things in this century. He doesn’t know how to work a phone. It’s not like he gives a crap about that.

• Trust me. He does NOT have a soft heart. He’s cold hearted. Very cold hearted. You tell him your mom died? He’s bursting out in laughter. Oh no! Your boyfriend broke up with you? He’s bursting out in laughter.

• Is he loyal? Hm. If your not who he reallllyyyyyyy wants, then no. Does he care? No.

• Have you ever seen them tiktok lives where they all take turns roasting eachother? Sukuna would COOK at that. Everybody would be flabbergasted.

• small note: nobody can clock sukunas tea. (well, maybe if you bring up his true true form which is a pou.)

• He can definitely handle alcohol. 2 giant bottles, and he’s still sober. He’ll definitely make fun of you for getting drunk after a couple of glasses.

• hook ups? Yes. He’s not as crazy as toji though. He’ll probably focus on 1-3 girls. He might get you pregnant, but that man does NOT care. Sad, but true.

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hehehe guys I’m done. I spent the whole afternoon on this. My hands are sweating… but yeah. Thank you for reading !

(remember. Some of this is inspired by trin and erika on TikTok, and the rest is mostly made up in my head.)

I might make more head-cannons like the jujutsu students, and WOMEN😍 let me stop acting gay. But anyways, try to look forward to them guys ! Byeeeee

😋🎀🎻💝🦢🪞

random note: I used to play in orchestra, now I play in the band since my school doesn’t do orchestra no more. I miss orchestra so much, and my clarinet keeps screeching😒

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antizenin · 8 hours ago

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𑁤 VISCERAL CHOKEHOLD ⋮ HIGURUMA HIROMI

no one ever thought you would make it this far, and maybe you wouldn’t have withought higuruma’s help.

( fic demographics. ) jujutsu kaisen, higuruma hiromi, dark content & sexually mature | minors, ageless & blank blogs : do not interact & 16.3k words !

➛ law professor!higuruma hiromi & law student!reader, professor & student relationship, insecure!reader, power imbalance, large age gap, toxic and verbally abusive relationship, dubious consent (manipulation), dacryphilia, blowjob, minor finger sucking, hardcore degredation, face slaping, rough sex, choking, unprotected sex, featuring hitman!fushiguro toji, private investigator!nanami, and lawyer!shiu kong as your father, alluded character death, etc.

( dedication. ) this is for my babes @murderofravens requesting this piece. it's still my favorite piece so far !

When people talk about your father, they speak nothing but praises, saying how he’s such a beast in court. They glorify his name and how he's gotten the innocent to roam freely on the streets again. They praise him on his judgment, bringing justice to the right people and condemning the guilty in the process. His voice would boom in court as he swayed the jury’s mind, his deep and commanding tone something that had people right under his thumb. He had great relationships with the judges and made plenty of enemies with lawyers who secretly sought to be like him. When women heard his name, they were scampering in hopes to get a moment alone with him.

He often found himself perched at the bar, sitting on a stool as he leaned against the counter where the bartender would pass him a glass of sake. It was a little celebration ritual that he had whenever he won a case, which was quite often. He grabs his pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his brown suit jacket, lighting one up as the butt of it would sizzle and red sparks would light up ablaze. He’d buy a drink for himself and the man he just set free, this one being Toji Fushiguro.

“I don’t think I could thank you enough,” the man with a scarred lip smiles, taking the glass of bourbon and barely putting it to his lips. He appreciated the courtesy, but he didn’t really enjoy drinking. Didn’t find pleasure in it. Shiu could see that, noticing how the glass always rested in his hands and when he did bring it to his lips, it stayed at the same level.

“Then don’t,” he chuckled, downing his glass in one go. “Bourbon not your cup of tea? You ordered it.”

“Yeah, I did,” Toji shrugged. “Didn’t want to make you feel bad to be the only one drinking.”

“Well, I still am,” Shiu chuckles. The rest of the night goes without much conversation. Shiu drowns out the stress of today’s case, letting it dissipate with shots of whatever liqueur he was craving next and the buzz of nicotine blackening his lungs. He loved the scene a bar could give him, a chance to people-watch strangers and get their life story just from how they spend their time. His favorite person to watch was a woman around his age, always here around the same time he was, just like clockwork.

At first, he thought she was one of those women that liked to flock around him after learning that he was a well-established lawyer. However, he doesn’t quite think so. Her eyes would flicker to him every so often and they always seemed shy— not the one anyone would try to feign. She’d grow easily flustered, but never unmoving. Neither of them had taken the first step at approaching each other, only enjoying the lingering gaze when the other thought they weren’t looking.

“For some hot shot in the courtroom, you seem pretty pathetic right now,” Toji chuckles, finally taking a swig of the bourbon in his hand. He found the scene grotesque, watching his lawyer that was so domineering in the courtroom get all shy for a woman. Watching the both of them eye-fuck each other made him nauseaus. “Just go up to her.”

“Mmm,” Shiu shuffles on the stool, eyes trailing back to the stunning woman. He’s always talked himself out of it, even now. “It doesn’t seem like the right moment.”

Toji can’t help but chuckle at that, eyes flickering from Shiu to the woman. “Right now seems like the perfect moment actually.”

However, Shiu remains still, belligerent on his choices. Considering the lengths that Shiu went to ensure that Toji didn’t land himself in jail, it seemed fair that the lad try to do him a favor in helping his lawyer land the woman of his dreams, even if it’ll only be for the night. The grazing of the chair legs against the wooden floor calls for Shiu’s attention as Toji stands up. “If you don’t, then I will. She seems to be my type as well.”

“What?” Shiu’s quick to his feet, watching how Toji sauntered over to the beauty herself. There’s no stopping the taller man, seeing how he approaches her and is quick to strike up conversation. Her eyes light up talking to Toji, and Shiu’s about to lose hope believing that the man had swept the woman off of her feet. He takes his seat back at the stool, back facing the two of them when he hears feet approaching him. He feels like he’s back in his teens again, shying away from what he wants.

“Did you come back to gloat?” he asks, beckoning the bartender over for another glass. A soft and feminine chuckle calls for his attention, that glum feeling quickly reverting to disbelief. The fine dime herself standing right before him as she’s fidgeting with the bangles around her wrist. She’s prettier up close, her curly hair out and sporting an afro as it rises in volume. Beautiful skin that the blue lights don't do justice to her skin tone. Her lips shine under the light when she smiles, lined in a shade or two darker than her complexion underneath the gloss.

She’s nervous, he can tell, but she bats her eyelashes cutely as she tilts her head to the side. “No, actually I came to see if you’d like to have a drink with me.”

Shiu has come to learn that her name’s (Y/M), a foreigner from America visiting Japan for vacation, but considering moving here permanently, trying to see if she could possibly qualify to teach English. (Y/M) learns that Shiu is a lawyer who’s contemplating on opening up his own law firm at some point, and that she’s managed to captivate the eyes of someone who could potentially financially secure her for the rest of her life if she’s willing to go on a couple of dates with him to see where this will lead. Toji’s long forgotten by now, but Shiu makes a mental note to thank the bastard when he gets the chance. Toji has found his way out the door shortly after his exchange with the woman, sure that Shiu’s got the bill covered.

Shiu brings (Y/M) to his house not too long after. Hands roaming her body as her moans make his body melt into hers. It was an unforgettable night and it created a lasting future, where Shiu never planned to start his legacy so soon. However, with (Y/M)’s announcement that she’s pregnant brings him nothing but joy the moment it falls from her beautiful lips. He reassures her that she’ll never have to worry about a thing. And he’s made sure to keep his promise for the most part, rarely being her source of stress despite the amount of disagreements they’ve had. He is always trying to appease her in every way possible. It seems like the uncontrollable slowing the both of them down, one of them being you.

Shiu always wanted children, a legacy to carry out his name with someone he loves. While he never anticipated having a child so soon within the relationship that’s barely started, he was more than ecstatic to have you, much to (Y/M)’s surprise. Shiu had ensured that her stay in Japan became permanent, buying a ring to decorate her left ring finger and marrying (Y/M) as soon as possible. He made her pregnancy a breeze, hiring a helper inside his home to aid with the household duties. When (Y/M) finally went into labor, Shiu made sure that she had time for herself during postpartum, not enjoying how she’d curl up in a ball and cry her eyes out in his chest, believing that she’d be a horrible parent.

The issue wasn’t that you were a difficult child to take care of. No, you were easy, and maybe that was the issue itself. You were too easy. A saint and the apple of both of your parents’ eyes. The problem came when you were older and there wasn’t anything particularly… extraordinary about you. You didn’t have anything that really captivated anyone’s eye— no talent, no hobby that you found yourself hyper fixated in, nothing that called a spark within you. You were average in your studies to say the least. Shiu made sure to hire tutors whenever you were struggling with a certain subject. You didn’t really care for afterschool clubs or anything involving sports— you didn’t like to sweat, yuck. No, you just enjoyed mundane and locking yourself inside of your room despite both of your parents’ persistence in spending time with you.

When people spoke about Shiu Kong, it was all praise and glory. However, when they spoke about his daughter, his only child, they hesitated to come up with the right words to say. One finger on their lips as they pondered how to sound polite. You were just average. There was nothing special about you and because of that, no one saw the potential that you could possibly have.

Unfortunately, they never took the time to realize how their constant scrutinizing would impact you. How when they whispered about you, you would take notice of their quick glances immediately. How their smiles never met their eyes when they spoke to you and their compliments were fake, their pitch a bit too high to sound authentic when you showed them something you were doing. You hated it and wished that one day, someone would tell you what they thought right in front of your face with confidence. But, that day has yet to come.

It brings you to shame that your parents can’t even be truthful to you. How they spoke to you so lovingly for years about how you had such a bright future ahead of you, but behind closed doors, they sounded concerned for your future.

When Shiu and your mother believed that you were sound asleep, having tucked you in and told you goodnight already, they were downstairs doing their habitual night time ritual. Sitting at the dining table, they’re next to each other with a glass of red wine in front of them. Shiu swirls it as he looks inside the bulbous glass, watching it swivel around at his motions. His wife was sitting next to him as she had yet to touch her glass. Something was plaguing her mind and he knew that he had to pry it out of her with a simple question. “What’s on your mind, honey?”

Finally does she let out the heavy sigh that’s been residing heavily on her chest, forcing her down into a slump. Her posture straightens from what you can see, peeking from just around the corner. You’ve gotten better at this, seeing how they’ve yet to catch you in a heartbeat. “I’m worried about her, Shiu.”

“About what exactly?” He knows exactly what, but he always found it better when (Y/M) spoke out her thoughts, said everything from the depths of her soul. When she couldn’t find the right words, he’d help her scour for them.

“About her future,” (Y/M) sighs, afraid to admit this. “She’s not a very bright child.”

At that, your eyes widen as you let out a gasp. You had to cover your mouth in fear that they heard you, but they’re so immersed with each other, it leaves you in the clear. Your heart starts racing as your feet move involuntarily. Your steps manage to remain gentle as you climb them back and head back to your room. Unbeknownst to them that their daughter had overheard their conversation, Shiu and (Y/M) keep talking. Shiu’s head tilting in concern at the confession as he frowns. “What do you mean by that? (Y/N)’s a very…”

(Y/M) gives Shiu a knowing look, proving her point. “See? You can’t even finish your sentence.”

“Yes, but our child isn’t a dunce,” Shiu scolds. “Sure, her reports don’t reflect positive grades from time to time, but she gets the help she needs.”

“And what happens when she can’t get that assistance, hm?” (Y/M) retorts. “What happens when she takes her exams and they don’t positively reflect on her homework scores and project reports, then what?”

“You’re being ridiculous, (Y/M),” Shiu raises his voice, setting the wine glass down at his wife’s ridiculing of their daughter. “She’s only eight years old, and she’s not dumb. She just has a hard time grasping certain concepts. It’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”

“Yes, but what about everything else?” (Y/M) rebuttals. “She doesn’t partake in the activities and events other kids want to participate in. She doesn’t show interest in any clubs or sports. All she does is lock herself up in the room all day when she gets the chance! She doesn’t even want to eat dinner with us!”

“Yes because her mother is calling her dumb behind her back!”

You’ve never witnessed or heard your parents argue, even on that same night. You immediately shut the doors and climbed back underneath the covers when you were back in your bedroom, the pillows clogging your ears and silencing everything as you sobbed yourself to sleep. The next morning your dad was nowhere to be seen, having left for work early because he couldn’t stand to be in the same vicinity as his wife.

(Y/M) felt worse as the day went by. Shiu always made sure that the weekends were reserved for family time and for him to willingly head to work, she knew she was in the wrong. Looking over at you, it didn’t make it any better. Especially when your fork clinked against the plate as you finished your food, carrying the empty dish to the sink as the silence of both you and your mother ate at you. “Where’s daddy?”

She took your plate, turning on the water to rinse it off. “At work.”

“He’s never at work on the weekends,” you note, stating the obvious. Your mother could only sighed, “There’s a first to everything, my dear.”

From that point forward, you always tried to put in a little more effort. You took up clubs and activities that you found interesting, committing to them for the entirety of your childhood all the way to graduating high school. Though, nothing really changed as you never found anything that sparked joy within you.

You’ve found that out of your two parents, you found yourself a true daddy’s girl, enjoying his company the most. Even if the two of you would just watch crappy television shows in silence. It brought you comfort. So, when it was time for you to choose what you wanted to major in, you had finally decided on something— that you’d follow in your father’s footsteps.

The topic of college became more frequent once you hit high school. (Y/M) and Shiu would always ask you what you wanted to do, or what you were thinking about doing, but you always shrugged and said that you were undecided. Your father always kept such a nonchalant gaze before looking back at his phone, but you’d always see that annoying glint in your mother’s eyes. (Un)fortunately for her, in junior year, you finally made a choice.

“I think I’m interested in pursuing law.” You said it so nonchalantly that it caught both of your parents off guard, having them stop in their tracks. You— you want to pursue law?

When Shiu said he wanted a child to carry out his legacy, he didn’t specifically mean that they had to follow in his exact footsteps. He meant he wanted a legacy where those who descend after him all end up in a decent position. Frankly, he didn’t think you were cut out for law. You didn’t have the personality for it. You weren’t timid, but you were quiet and you never really raised your voice for anything. You had to be someone domineering in the courtroom and he didn’t see you as one. However, that didn’t mean it was too late for you.

(Y/M) didn’t see your potential. She had made that very clear all those years ago, and people always feigned brightness when it came to you. However, if you were serious about this, he’d help you every step of the way and help you where you needed to go. (Y/M) wore an incredulous look all over her face, standing in disbelief as she choked on her words, wanting to talk you out of it. However, Shiu beat her to it.

“Okay,” he spoke, reciprocating the same nonchalance you sported. “Do you have any idea which university you want to attend?”

With your father’s eyes on you now, granting you the attention you never thought you’d get, you grow shy as you squirm in place. “I was thinking about Kyoto University.”

“Ah, you wanna follow in your old man’s footsteps, I see,” he winks at you, chuckling as he straightens his posture. “Well, you work on what you need to do to apply, I’ll sort out everything else.”

“Mhm,” you hum before trotting back up the stairs. When you’re finally gone, (Y/M) finally breaks the silence.

“Shiu, you can’t be serious,” she chastises her husband for entertaining you. (Y/M) had come to accept who you are, that you’re just an average girl and that perhaps you didn’t need to make it as big as her husband is. However, for you to pursue law? It sounded ridiculous. There was no way you’d be able to survive such strenuous studies, especially in one of the top schools for law. They had a rigorous law program.

“Oh, I am,” Shiu sits up. “If she says she wants to pursue law, then let her.”

“Aren’t you afraid that she’ll crash and burn?” (Y/M) hates how he’s been so monotone about everything. How he doesn’t even seem to be concerned for your well being. How is he so willing for you to just make a decision that seems so abrupt? Just a couple of weeks ago, you were still indecisive and today you just got up and decided that you want to become a lawyer? (Y/M) shakes her head, dropping what she’s doing as she rests her elbows down on the kitchen counter, shutting her eyes. “I can’t believe you're entertaining this.”

“You can’t believe I’m entertaining what?” Shiu cocks up an eyebrow. “You can’t believe I’m supporting our child’s endeavors? Weren’t you the one worried for her future?”

“You’re not even listening to me!” (Y/M) groans. “I’m glad that she’s made up her mind, but law? Shiu, don’t be ridiculous, you know she wouldn’t last over a month in those classes.”

“I bet she’ll last the entire year,” Shiu challenges. “And even if she doesn’t, we’ll support whatever she does next.”

“Yeah, until your bank account is drained, then what will we do?” She mutters, scoffing.

Shiu’s fist bangs against the table, frightening (Y/M) and making her jump. He points at her, a harsh glare in his eyes as his dark pupils stare back at hers. “Y’know, I love you, (Y/M). I do, really and truly. But I don’t like the person you’ve become. Fix it before we’re no more.”

—

Shiu would go through the greatest depths of hell for you. He’s come to learn this the moment he finds himself on the phone, contacting the board of admissions in regards to you. And people would question his faith for you, ask him if he really thinks you wouldn't be able to get in on your own, but he only wants to secure a spot for you. You said you wanted to go to Kyoto University, so he’ll make sure you get into it. It’s not that hard when you're an alumni who still makes monetary contributions.

It takes nothing, but a few phone calls to have everything settled. Yet, you still work on your college essays, having your father read them over for you before getting the okay. Considering the growth you’ve had over the years, Shiu can’t say he’s too concerned about you. It’s not like you never tried, using the resources he’s given you each time you needed assistance with your work. Despite your aloof attitude, you have drive. And it makes him feel ashamed that your mother can’t see that within you.

When you get the letter from Kyoto University, you’re running to your dad first. Meeting him at his law firm and asking him. Never have you voluntarily come to the firm, but when his secretary is telling him that his daughter is waiting for him outside of his office, there’s a spark of joy ignited in him. Within your eyes, there’s glee and excitement as you jump into his arms, telling him that you got accepted. His arms wrapped around you as you jumped into his arms, letting him spin you around in this moment of celebration. A genuine smile on your face as you come to terms with your decision, ready to put in the work in getting what you want.

That summer when you graduate, you put away your plans of leisure to spend most of your days in the office. You had packed breakfast, lunch and dinner, your dad taking extraneous hours at work. You also have your laptop and a notebook with you, wanting to gather as much information from your father as well as having to complete summer assignments for your upcoming courses. He’s proud of you, seeing you go the extra mile and taking it seriously.

Your mother’s also seeing how you’re taking this seriously, finally convinced of your choices. She starts waking up with the both of you, preparing your meals and sneaking in extra snacks inside your lunch. Your relationship with your mother has always been something rocky, where the two of you could never truly see each other eye-to-eye. You never felt like her daughter, only someone she scrutinized under a spectacle as she tried creating you in her own image. And you never made her feel like a mother, not accepting her affection and never seeking out her comfort.

(Y/M) remembers how when you first started your period, you’d rather talk to your father about it. You cried in his lap about the boy who told everyone in the class that you were bleeding out of your vagina. Shiu tried pushing you to confide in your mother, but you refused and forced him to go shopping for menstrual products. (Y/M) had to write down a list of specific products for Shiu to pick up while going to the store with you. Your mother never had thought about the way she treated you until seeing you going to work with your father. She never truly considered how you felt, and though she felt like it was too late, she was trying to put in more effort in showing you that she truly did love you.

When the summer was over and it was move-in day, (Y/M) and Shiu both took time off to send you off, helping you bring in your belongings and sort everything out just how you wanted. And when it came time for them to leave, Shiu held onto you, afraid to let go. You chuckled, trying to pry your father off of you. “You’re acting like you’ll never see me again.”

“We might not,” Shiu sniffled, hiding his face in your shirt in an attempt to wipe away his tears. You squirmed in his hold until he finally let go of you, seeing how red his eyes were. It wasn’t like you weren’t going to miss your parents, you would. However, it just hasn’t settled in yet.

(Y/M) stood behind you both awkwardly as your father gave you words of encouragement, having you promise him that if you needed any help, you’d contact him — even if it’s to get away with murder. She finally intervenes when she sees that her husband won’t pry away from you anytime soon. “(Y/N), can I talk to you for a second— privately?”

“Yeah, okay.” With a cock of your eyebrow, you nod hesitantly as you step away from your father and head out of the room. She’s fidgeting with her hands, eyes failing to meet yours. She takes a deep breath, sucking in her tears.

“I want to—” Your mother chokes up, voice trailing off before she’s clearing her voice. “Y’know what, nevermind. Just know that I’m going to make it up to you. I love you, baby, and I’m very proud of you.”

You don’t know what she means with ‘I’m going to make it up to you,’ but you accept her hug. You accept the tight grip she wraps around your body, finally finding comfort in her touch. Even if it’s just for the moment.

College is freeing to a certain extent. No longer under the scrutiny and judgment of family and around strangers, you feel like you’re open to do whatever you want. Legally an adult, where you no longer need the consent of your parents to partake in things that they’d show their concerns over. You can make the wrong choices and come to regret it later without any berating, and you can make a schedule that best works for you.

You made the right decision on selecting your classes early, having an ideal schedule— Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays. With Mondays and Fridays off, it gave you time to study and catch up on things that you might’ve fallen behind on. Four classes within the semester, one of them being a fast-paced class that only lasted eight weeks. Two classes on Tuesday, one on Wednesday and Thursday. It seemed like something you’d be able to manage.

However, some people didn’t share your same ideologies, not planning ahead as you sit in front of those people right now— and it was more so a person. You were sitting with three other incoming freshmen, Itadori Yuuji, Kugisaki Nobara, and Fushiguro Megumi. Of the three, Nobara was the only one in the law program with you. Yuuji was undecided and Megumi was majoring in Biochemistry. The boy with the puppy dog eyes and salmon-toned hair seemed like an angel from the time you’ve spoken to them since they’ve decided to adopt you in their little crew, but not very wise when it came to decision making. Now, you’re watching him struggle to find good classes to take as all the professors left seem to have low ratings. Megumi has his face down in his phone, ignoring Nobara’s snickers at Yuuji’s stupidity, well accustomed to their banters.

“We told you to sign up for classes early,” Nobara points out. “Hell, we even set up a date where we could do it together, so we’d have days that we can spend together.”

“Yeah, but you know I couldn’t make that day,” Yuuji pouts.

“But when we tried rescheduling, you were hellbent on us not waiting up for you.” Yuuji sighs, knowing that Nobara’s right. Groaning, he can only accept defeat as he scrolls and tries to make a schedule for himself that’s someone appeasing. “Just tell me what days you guys will be free.”

It gives you some solace that you won’t be completely alone, having Nobara in some of your classes providing you a sense of relief as you can both study alongside each other when the time comes. None of your high school friends had applied to Kyoto and some of the students from your old school who were attending weren’t people in your major or you weren’t too fond of. It makes that first day of classes more bearable the moment you step foot in it, finding a seat not too far from the front but not immediately in the back. You set your bag on the seat to the right of you, saving it for your newfound friend when she finally makes it in.

Higuruma Hiromi— you vaguely remember the name as you could swear that he was a colleague of your father. When you had chosen him as a professor, the thought never crossed your mind until now that you’re sitting inside the lecture room and waiting for his arrival. You’re amongst five other students who’ve arrived early as they’re putting out their laptops, textbooks and a manila folder. What’s the manila folder for— Shit! You immediately slump back in your chair, eyes shutting as you hold your breath. You had completely forgotten to print out the summer assignment as it was instructed for you to do. You had it saved on a USB drive, but you don’t know if this one little slip up will be easily dismissed. So much for starting off your classes strong.

Just in that moment does Nobara walk in, spotting you in a flash and climbing up the steps to greet you. You lift up your bag, not before dropping it in front of you and wailing at your stupid mistake. Taking a seat as she unpacks her stuff, Nobara knits her eyebrows together, something evidently wrong with you. “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot to print out the summer assignment,” you groan, simultaneously as you hear a bunch of keys jingling and a set of heavy shoes clunking on the marble tiles. Lifting your head up, you can vividly remember him now. Short and dark brown hair that always looks stringy. He always looked tired or bored whenever you saw him in your youth, his small brown pupils that never gave you a look of emotion whenever you were around. He’d always give you a weak ‘hello’ out of politeness before his attention was fixated back on your father, talking about God knows what.

Now you’re taking closer notice of him. Average height and a slender build as he walks towards his desk, letting out a heavy sigh that has all the students silent. It’s still not time for classes to start, plenty of students starting to trickle in from behind. You always thought he was paler, but there’s a tint in his skin. He dresses professionally, wearing a typical black suit and tie with a sunflower pin on his left shoulder to signify his previous status as an attorney.

From what you can remember about Higuruma, he was a fierce attorney just like your father and he only fought for those who were wrongfully accused. Him and your father sat along the same boat of men that were greatly admired in the courtroom. You don’t remember hearing that he retired from being a lawyer and your father never mentioned him working here. You wondered if the two had some sort of falling out. You thought the two were close friends.

“Don’t worry,” Nobara tries assuring you. “I’m pretty sure he’ll understand. You did do it.”

When class is ready to start, the room is packed with over one hundred students. People are still shuffling to take their belongings out of their bags as Higuruma is getting the projector up and running, giving the students just a little bit more time before lecture begins. You have your laptop open with your textbook set to the side as well as a spiral notebook and a pencil pouch. While Nobara’s words had given you some sort of comfort, sure that he would be understanding, it still didn’t take away that nagging sensation in your chest.

He cleared his throat, finally taking a stand and adjusting his suit jacket. His voice remained calm, yet it boomed and called the attention of everyone from the mic pinned to the jacket. “Good morning, everyone! And welcome to JGVT1101, the History of the Japanese Government.

“My name is Professor Higuruma and please address me as such,” he continues. “This will be one of your first classes with me, but surely not your last as you will be stuck with me throughout your years enrolled within the law program. I will not dive deep about my personal life, just know that I used to be a lawyer and attended this very same university when I was around your age.

“I will not lie to you and say that each and every one of you will make it to be a lawyer, but I will say that in order to pass my class it is vital that you do everything I say and complete assignments how I expect them to. Starting with the summer assignment, everyone passes them up.”

You feel uneasy as everyone else seems to have their assignments printed out, even Nobara as she hands it to the person on her left as they all pile up into one stack at the front. You’re fidgeting with the bracelets on your hand, pulling at the elastic as you try to bring yourself to focus on anything else but it.

“I will have the class syllabus going around,” he further announced. “Please make sure to take one and keep it somewhere safe. It has all the assignments listed down and when they’re expected to be turned in.”

The class goes by smoothly until it’s close to the end, where Higuruma sets you guys up with a partner and assigns you to discuss one of the questions viewed on the screen. Perched at his desk, he’s checking off those who have turned in their assignment, seeing that only a few students haven’t had their names marked off. He looks through the list, noticing your name— your last name specifically. Kong. He hasn’t seen that name in a while.

“Kong (Y/N),” he calls your name, pulling the mic hooked to his jacket closer. It makes your head pop in his direction, looking him clearly in his eyes. You’ve grown a lot since the last time he’s seen you. When was that? When you were a little over twelve? He can’t quite remember, but you’ve surely grown. Features more womanly and grown in. At one point you favored your mother, then Shiu the next. Now, you’re a fine mixture of the two— though whenever he did look at you, your eyes vividly came from your father. “Can you explain to me why your paper hasn’t been submitted?”

“Oh, um…” You can feel your heart stuck inside your throat, eyes deviating away from his as you're not sure what to say. You know what to say, but did he really have to call you out in front of the entire class? “I forgot to print it out, but—”

He comes to stand, the swivel chair sliding backwards as he does, cutting your excuse short. “And this class is an example of what I don’t want. How can you expect to get anywhere in life if you show up the first day unprepared?”

“Is that really necessary?” Nobara leans into you with the scrunch of her eyebrows. “He didn’t have to call you out in front of the classroom. I’m pretty sure there’s at least one student who didn’t even complete it at all.”

“Miss Kong, if this is going to be typical behavior from you, I suggest you drop out of my class immediately.”

People around you start to chatter, some siding with the professor and some ridiculing him for calling you out like that. Nonetheless, you grow flustered as you feel all eyes on you. He’s right. If you had just remembered to print out the assignment beforehand, you wouldn’t be in this damn predicament, getting condemned before everyone. You’re only grateful that he doesn’t call your name out for the rest of the class. Only until he’s finally dismissing you all, the name he’s already set for you ringing through the air once more. “Miss Kong, please stay behind. I’d like to have a word with you.”

You can only respond with a meek ‘okay’ as everyone’s trailing outside the door. Nobara hesitates to leave you alone, but you dismiss her and assure her that you’ll be fine. You don’t know what he could possibly want from you. He’s already said what he needed during class. However, you’ll take this opportunity in hopes to plead a little bit of extra time. You just needed to print it out.

Everyone trickles out quickly, leaving the enormous room just for the two of you as you shuffle in his direction, stopping not too short of his desk. He doesn’t say anything for a second, stacking the manila folders into a neat pile and setting them inside of a cart. He clears his throat, eyes flickering to yours before they go back on the task at hand. “Do you think that a judge would accept an unprepared lawyer?”

“No,” you immediately answer, your voice low and dry.

“Then why do you think that I should accept your late paper, hm?” He pauses, expecting a response.

“Um…”

“A lawyer must always be prepared with a rebuttal,” Higuruma holds his head high. “No stuttering, um’s and uh’s in the courtroom. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Hig— Yes, Professor.”

At your slip up, Higuruma pauses. Glancing up at you with a raised eyebrow as he lets out an exasperated sigh. “How’s your father been? It’s been a while since I’ve last spoken to him.”

“He’s fine,” you shrug. “For the most part. He’s—”

“He won’t be fine if his daughter ends up a failure,” he remarks, setting the last of his stuff inside the cart, pulling up the handle as he throws you a stern look. His eyes squinting low as if daring you to challenge him. However, your mouth’s gone dry as you’re speechless.

“I— I can have it for you in the next hour.”

“Try thirty minutes,” he rebuttals. “Anything later won’t be accepted. You’re dismissed.”

You don’t hesitate to spin on your heel, hurrying out of the class. You’re practically running out, throwing the door and letting it slam shut on the way out. Higuruma chuckles, watching you rush out of the lecture hall as he finally pulls out the cart along with him. He’ll give you the courtesy of adding ten extra minutes, but seeing the determination written all over your face the moment he gave you extra time, he’s ready to bed that the thirty will be enough.

Unlike you, Higuruma remembered you clearly as the day when he saw your name on his roster. He didn’t believe it at first, wondering if your name was a common one. Surely, Shiu would’ve called him and informed him that his daughter had decided to pursue law at the same college both of them attended in their younger years. However, since Higuruma had called it quits, he hadn’t heard from Shiu since.

He never planned on retiring from being a lawyer so soon. No, there was still so much fire in him that yearned to be back on the playing field, but after his last case. He thought it was best to call it quits, the scar residing on his chest being enough motivation to do so. Days that he spent in the hospital recovering as his mother cried over his wounded body. She had warned him about his strong pursuit for justice, to be careful of what he was doing or he’d anger the wrong set of people. He knew that was the case, that being a lawyer wasn’t always the safest career. However, he was passionate about it and couldn’t let it up because the unjust wanted to live freely. Shiu could let them run around freely, but not him.

Maybe that’s why he hasn’t contacted him after all these years. Maybe there’s guilt residing on his chest after all this time. Higuruma always suspected Shiu’s involvement in his accident, but he could never find enough evidence for it. It led to Higuruma giving up his one man search forcing himself to forgive the man. He couldn’t bear the stress of being angry and having a vengeful spirit. However, seeing you really provoked that anger that he thought was long gone.

Were you to end up like your father? Higuruma highly doubted it. You were a frail little thing, and he won’t apologize when he says he agreed with your mom. Shiu had called him up one night when they were still friends, confided in him and told him that his wife didn’t believe in you. Didn’t believe that you’d make it far in life.

He’s met you and had a few conversations with you. You were only a child, yes, but the typical child would have an answer on standby when asked what they wanted to be when they grow up. You? You only shrugged your shoulders and didn’t say anything more. He was sure that you’d find a place where you’re wanted— needed— but in law?

Higuruma scoffed to himself. Law did not need another Kong.

—

“How dare he?” Nobara stabbed at her lunch in anger, the chopsticks ferociously dividing the apple into two pieces in one go. She seemed to be angrier than you about the entire ordeal despite the fact that you told her he had given you a second chance and you managed not to mess it up this time. “I had talked to a few other students and they had said they didn’t submit it, so why did he come after you? I hate a hardass that’s so unfair. How did he even call himself a lawyer?”

You didn’t want to voice your speculations. And you didn’t want to voice that you knew him outside of your classes. You didn’t want her perspective on you to shift, liking how the girl was ready to take up for you. Her bottom lip jutted out in anger, an adorable pout settling on her features as she shoved the piece of fruit in her mouth.

Megumi sat beside Nobara, for once, interested in the conversation. “I don’t know, that’s weird. I would report him to the Dean.”

You scrunch your eyebrows in between your lunch, still chewing your food. “It was just the first day of classes,” you fan off the situation. “Maybe my name was the first option and he just wanted to make an example to set the tone for the rest of the semester.”

You hadn’t told them every aspect of what happened when he had called you to stay behind. That would reveal too much and surely set Nobara off in flames, seeing how red her face is with anger right now. You were really hoping that this would be a one time occurrence as you didn’t want to have a professor with whatever personal vendetta they had against you. Higuruma was vile and cruel with his words, where they felt completely unnecessary and targeted. However, you pushed your intuition back, not wanting to start the very first year of college off on a bad note.

“Maybe,” Megumi shrugs. “But you don’t want it to turn into some big thing. Just be careful, okay?”

Later that night, your mom calls you. Picking up the phone, you hold it to your ears as your voice is low. Your roommate had already fallen asleep while you were up, starting ahead on your class readings. “Hey, mom. It’s late, why’re you still up?”

“I should ask you the same,” your mom’s voice sounds. “Don’t tell me you’ve already started studying? Have the professors already started teaching?”

“Yeah, they have,” you chuckled. “Plus, I want to stay on top of things.”

“I just wanted to call in and check on you!” She sounds happy on the other line, and you can’t help but notice the silence in the background. From the moment you got here and they had to leave, whenever your mom initiated a phone call, your dad was always next to her. “Hope you’re settling in well.”

“I am,” you sigh. “Is dad not with you right now?”

“No,” your mom yawns. You can hear the ruffling of the bed sheets move as she’s climbing into bed. “He’s working late tonight.”

“Oh, well,” you start, Higuruma coming to mind. “Mom, do you remember Higuruma?”

There’s a long pause on the other line. Your mom’s heart rating picking up a beat as she hadn’t heard that name in a long while. You have to call out her name again to snap her outside of whatever trance that she was under. “Oh, sorry, dear. Yeah, I remember him. He used to be one of your dad’s closest colleagues. Why?”

“He’s a professor at Kyoto University,” you inform her. “I actually have him for one of my classes.”

“He is?” Your mom’s attention has been called, sitting up in the bed as she’s wide awake. “He hasn’t bothered you by any chance, has he?”

Her question catches you off guard, making you wonder if your mother or your dad have set people to watch over you on campus. More so, your father. How could you possibly know if Higuruma was bothering you within less than twenty four hours? However, you try to play it cool, ready to deny her concerns. “No, I was just wondering… We haven’t seen him in a while and I wanted to know why he never visited anymore?”

Your mother loses her guard for a moment, becoming candid with you— er, giving you half the truth. “Oh, well, after his accident, Higuruma decided to quit law. And we tried reaching out, but we never heard from him again.”

“Accident?”

“Yeah,” your mom hums. “Some guys didn’t like their sentence and once they were let out, they came after him. Scared Higuruma shirtless, I guess, so he decided to switch career paths.”

“Oh,” you gasped. “I never knew that.”

“You were really young at the time,” Mom says. “We didn’t want you to burden you with something like that.”

Shortly after, you and your mom are bidding each other good night before hanging up the phone. You’re left speechless at the newfound information that it leaves you unfocused. Shutting off your laptop and closing your textbook, you set it aside and crawl underneath the covers. Your mom, on the other hand, still sits up in the king-sized bed, pondering on what she should do next. Never did she think that Shiu’s past would come back to haunt them.

They made sure to cut all ties with the man, their plan working as the man resigned from his position as an attorney and they never heard from him again. It was planned so meticulously that to this day, Shiu and her aren’t sure whether or not Higuruma had detected it was them. Maybe he had an inkling, but if the man really wanted to go with his gut, they’d soon end up on the floor.

She didn’t want to burden her husband with the past, but was it really safe that their daughter’s in the hands of a man that they had bad blood with? Scrolling through her contacts before Shiu’s name popped up, her thumb hovered over the call button ready to click it. You said you were fine though, that he hadn’t done anything to bother you in any type of way. So, maybe she should trust your word. Shutting her eyes, (Y/M) throws the phone down on the bed, her face in her hands as she lets out a huff. “Fuck me.”

However, sleep riddles her mind before she can truly think about it. Forgetting her phone, she reaches for the night lamp, pulling at the metal string until she hears that click and the light goes off. When her head hits the pillow, she’s out like a light and the next day. She forgets all about her conversation with you.

—

You thought it would end there, but Higuruma found pleasure in your torment. Where he’s no longer calling you out in front of one hundred students, but writing snide notes in your assignments, overanalyzing everything that you do down to your vocabulary and grammar. When he asks you to stay back behind class, it’s to further chastise and criticize you for every tiny mistake that you make.

It makes you lose sleep as you’ve hours past midnight studying, the small lamp over-shining your textbooks as your upperclassman roommate, Maki Zenin, watches you with concern. Oftentimes, she’s warning you, telling you to get rest and buying you little treats to get through the day because she knows you haven’t slept. It’s become such a concern that when Nobara stops by, she tells her what’s been going on.

It’s the middle of first semester and you’re trying to complete work that’s due towards the end, trying to stay on top of all of your classes, but especially his. Maki couldn’t take it anymore, letting in the younger girl the moment she heard her knock and letting her crash through the dorm room. You don’t even notice as you’re nose deep into your assignments, an impending migraine resting on your head. Nobara snatches the textbook, throwing it to Maki’s side of the room in a rush.

“Hey! I need that!”

“No, you don’t!” Nobara immediately barks back. “(Y/N), have you ever eaten anything?”

You hesitate to answer, so you decide not to at all. Since she took your textbook, you reach for your laptop, but she proves to be even faster. Handling it gently, she shuts the screen and clutches it to her chest as her shoulders drop and tilts her head to the side. “You need to quit it, (Y/N). Not eating properly, no sleep? What’s this all about because you and I share the majority of our classes together and the work isn’t as strenuous as you’re making it seem?”

You wouldn’t cave in and confide in Nobara about your worries, failing to meet her eyes. However, she had an inkling that she knew what— or whom— had provoked you to this point. “Is it Professor Higuruma?”

You had never been a good liar apparently, always getting caught in them when you were younger, but you muster up a roll in your eyes as you scoff. “No,” it sounded so convincing that it killed the girl’s suspicion. “I just wanted to get ahead of my work and make sure I’m understanding the material.”

“Well, understanding the material won’t do you any good if you drop dead from exhaustion.” Nobara sets the laptop down on your nightstand, picking up your spiral notebooks and setting them on top of it as she scoots herself on the bed, kicking off her shoes. “We’re going to sleep.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you watch as she pulls your folded blanket from the corner of your bed and unravels it. When she tells you to move over, you do so unconsciously making space for her. “We?”

“Yes, we,” Nobara confirms. “Since you won’t listen to Maki to the point she had to stop me on the way to classes to have a mini-intervention with you, I’m going to make sure that you actually fall asleep. Now, come snuggle up. I heard cuddling helps.”

It does. You and Nobara fall asleep in each other’s hold. It was so cute to witness that Maki had taken a few pictures herself, making sure to send them to you when you wake up. Luckily for you, the next day was Friday, so you didn’t have any classes. You managed to sleep in just fine, but Nobara on the other hand? She forgot that she had a ten a.m. class and was nearly late. She had to run there in her clothes from before and the purse she had brought with her. You felt guilty for making her late, keeping her there for so long because of the mess you put on yourself. You didn’t need to put in this extra work to prove yourself. You were doing just fine in all of your classes, including Higuruma’s. So why were you doing all of this?

You tried to take the day off, to rest and rejuvenate your mind, body and soul. However, you felt an itch inside of you. An itch that berated you for the studying you’ve missed for being so lackadaisical— that time you had allotted for it now down the drain. You reached for your textbook again and opened back your laptop, ignoring the sting in your eyes as you grabbed your notebook and pen. Right back in that loop you’ve put yourself in.

(Y/N),

Please meet me in my office on Sunday, October 13, 2024. Two p.m. sharp.

Professor Higuruma

Higuruma always prided himself in being a just man, but he knew what he was doing to you wasn’t fair. You had potential in you after all, it seemed. You turned in decent work that didn’t make him want to gag, where it was better than a quarter than the other kids. You were putting in the work surely, always trying to correct the mistakes and errors he had highlighted in red. It seemed like you were seeking his validation through the desperation and lengths you were willing to take. He didn’t need to see it and you didn’t need to say a word, it’s in all of your work. And he can’t help, but boast to himself that he’s managed to tear you down with just using a sentence or two within his “constructive” criticism. He sends the email without a second thought, the corner of his lip twitching upwards in doing so.

You see the notification on your smart watch, an email from Professor Higuruma. You reach for your phone, swiping at the notification to open and unlocking your phone. Reading anything from him brings a spike of anxiety running down your spine, especially given the fact he wants to see outside of school hours. You don’t think about it too deeply to notice its suspicion in his request, simply replying to confirm that you will be there and playing right into the devil’s hand.

When you meet with Higuruma, his door is open. Sitting in his seat, he doesn’t look up from his work. He’s slouched forward, small brown pupils that always look exhausted as they flicker to you finally. He fixes his posture, straightening the white buttoned down shirt he’s wearing as he motions you to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

From there, he takes you in. You’re not wearing anything fancy, a t-shirt and jeans shorts that he’d deem too short. When you sit, the fat of your thighs join together and make Higuruma come to terms with just how much you’ve blossomed into a beautiful young woman in his absence. He should be disgusted by how it makes him feel, rumbling something deep inside him. He wants you to feel bad for it.

“I see you couldn’t even be bothered to put on something decent,” he comments, clicking out of a tab to lean in the swivel chair. He folds his hands together, clicking his tongue on the brim of his mouth and giving you another once over. “Who’s going to take you seriously if you can’t even come to a meeting with your professor in appropriate attire?”

This guise of preparing you for the real world, for becoming a lawyer— it’s all too easy and you’re all too gullible. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware that this was something really important or not—”

“It’s not,” he retorts, getting up from his seat, he brings himself in front of you, towering over you in a show of dominance. His hands stuffed inside the pockets of his dress pants as he leans against the edge of his desk, putting one leg over his knee. “But, you expect anyone to take you seriously dressed the way you are? Stand up.”

You don’t hesitate, standing up quickly and meeting Higuruma at eye level. He stands tall, a few inches taller than you. He’s taking a risk putting his hand on you, but considering that you’ve let him speak to you like this, he’s willing to test the waters and see. Gentle fingers that take your chin in his hand, forcing you to look directly into his eyes. He can see every flaw within you, every mark and blemish on your skin. Yet, it doesn’t deter the way his cock stirs inside his pants.

“Your father was a good lawyer— still is one— but you…” He tsks, voice getting raspy and deeper as his fingers trail down your neck to your clavicle. Pretty smooth skin is all he feels until he’s down to the hem of your shirt. He stops, trying to make his mind up. However, he’s feeling daring today. “I don’t know if you’ll even make it through the rest of your undergrad years. The work you’ve been handing in— mediocre, at best.”

He’s done more than invade your personal space, invading boundaries and crossing lines that should never be crossed as a professor and you as his student. You should tell him to stop, but the shiver down your spine does the opposite of what you want, making you inch closer to him as your breath hitches. You can feel him— his chest pressing against your chest and something pressing against your stomach. You’re praying that it’s his belt buckle, but you feel a faint stir letting you know it’s something else. His hands travel your body, stopping to graze and draw the shape of your breast.

“But— But you’ve been giving me good grades.” You knit your eyebrows together in confusion, your grades reflecting one thing but his words another.

“Yes,” he agrees before his rebuttal. “But good grades won't make you far as a lawyer. Don’t you want to be just like your daddy? Taking charge of whatever case you’re assigned that no one dares question you?”

His question makes sense, making you think about it. You want to make your father proud, and Higuruma was a man that used to stand right on your father’s level. If anyone could show you the ropes and help you other than your father, it would be him. You nod, “yes.”

“Then, you have to do everything I say,” Higuruma says. “Would you do anything I told you to?”

You take a minute to process, daring to look away before his hands are back on your face, harshly cupping your jaw and forcing you to keep eye contact before he’s repeating his question. “Would you do anything I told you to?”

“Yes,” you finally respond. After all, you’ve been doing it so willingly before. Higuruma grins, appeased with your response as he slowly nods. His grip on you loosening before finally letting go.

“Good,” he hums. “You’re to meet with me every Saturday at two p.m. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you say just above a whisper. His back is to you as he’s gathering all of his stuff. You spend a moment right there, unsure of what you should do next until he’s glancing behind him. He chuckles to himself inwardly. You’re so easy. Were you always this compliant with your parents? “You’re dismissed.”

The next time you speak with your parents, it’s in person. You’ve been listening to Nobara a bit more, taking breaks when needed. Though, Higuruma always stood in the back of your mind berating you. Somehow, he’s gotten ahold of your personal number, sending you messages and reminders that you must be studying and always aiming high if you want to be one of the best lawyers in Japan. His voice, it’s always lingering and berating you for moments of leisure like this. However, your mom and dad had been badgering you to come home and visit them as you’ve been slowly losing contact with them because of your extraneous schedule.

At the front door, you punch in the code before you hear the click of it opening. When it swings open, you’re immediately comforted by your mom’s cooking. The mouth watering aroma of a home cooked meal puts you in a trance as your feet make a bee line straight for the kitchen. Your mom’s standing behind the stove with her back to you as she hasn’t detected your arrival. In the pot is a meal that reminds her of home, something she made for you often as a child and still to this day.

A simple graze of her shoulder is enough to make her jump, a high-pitched scream coming from her lips before she’s spinning around and making the hot oil splatter against you and causing the both of you to scream. She slaps your shoulder when she finally calms down, grunting in annoyance. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“I didn’t mean to,” you can only retort, grabbing the kitchen towel to wipe off the cooling oil as your nerves settle down. When the both of you are in a calmer state, your mom pulls you into a hug.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you!” she coos, pulling away to take you in. “I didn’t expect you to come in until a bit later— are those eye bags? Have you not been sleeping properly?”

You fan away her hands that try to reach out and touch them. You groan, not feeling like talking about the subject matter. “Don’t worry about it. Where’s dad?”

The devil himself responds with, “he’s right here.” You can hear the rough shuffle of his feet pattering down the steps. “What was going on earlier? I heard screaming.”

From the small towel over his head and the wet t-shirt, it’s evident that he just came out of the shower. Your mom props a hand on her hip, side-eying you. “Oh, nothing. Just your daughter scaring her dear old mother to death.”

“It was an accident,” you roll your eyes. “I just touched her shoulder and she jumped.”

Shiu chuckles, making it to the kitchen and pulling you in for a hug. “(Y/N), you have to be careful. You know how jumpy your mother can get.”

The rest of the evening goes on smoothly as your mother finally calls you and your father over for dinner. Three plates prepared, your mother sets them down on the table as you’ve had the silverware and glasses set from before. You lean to give your mother a kiss on the cheek before sliding in your seat. “Thank you, mom.”

“Yes,” Shiu agrees. “Thank you, dear.”

“Mhm,” she chirps, finally setting down her own plate and sitting around the table next to your father. Her eyes are vibrant as she scans the area, happy to have her two prized-possessions with her in the same room again. “Shiu, can you start with the prayer?”

Halfway through your plate, your father looks over at you curiously. The bags underneath your eyes and your occasional yawns— it reminds him of his years in college. But, you’ve barely called and reached out to him as he was hoping. It made him concerned. Were you too scared to ask him for help even though he had blatantly told you he’d help you in any way, shape or form? “How have your classes been? Surely, they’re not stressing you out as much yet.”

“Oh, they’re stressing me out,” you snort. “But… nothing I can’t manage.”

“You’re not struggling with any of them, are you?” Shiu asks. “You haven’t reached out to me at all. Are you sure everything’s fine?”

“Yeah,” you reassure your father with a nod. “I’m passing all of my classes currently. And I have one of my professors offering me help outside of class hours to help me out.”

“Oh, really?” Shiu raises his eyebrows, leaning back in his chair. “Which one? I might know them.”

“You do,” you confirm. “You remember Higuruma, right? He’s a professor now, but I’m sure mom already told you about it. He’s offered to help me out with studying.”

Shiu stops eating, resting his fork gently against the plate as he knits his eyebrows together and looks at you, intaking this vital piece of information. He then glances at his wife, wondering how she could’ve forgotten to inform him of it. His wife fails to meet his eyes, forcing him to look back at you. He can’t help but repeat himself, “Oh, really?”

You nod, not noticing the scrunch of your father’s eyebrows and how heavy the atmosphere has turned. He tilts his head in curiosity, wondering the safety of his child within his old friend’s hands. “And you say he’s offered to tutor you?”

You hum in confirmation. “Yeah—”

“Honey,” Shiu stops himself, thinking about what he’s to say next. He doesn’t want to alarm you about the matter, and he’s not too sure himself if Higuruma will be a liability. The way you say it with confidence, not an ounce of fear in your mind. Is his old friend truly looking out for you for the greater good? Does he want to take this chance? “I’m not too sure about that.”

“Shiu,” your mom reaches for her husband’s hand, dissuading him from saying anything more. At the way your parents look at each other, it calls for your attention, finally aware of the suffocating tension lingering in the air.

“Why? Is something the matter?” you ask. “Mom told me about what happened to him, and he seems fine now—”

Shiu shoots his wife a glare, a simple action that speaks so many words. “Don’t worry about it, honey. It’s nothing you need to fret about.”

Your father stands up, his plate unfinished, but he’s decided that he’s had enough. “I’ll do the dishes, baby.”

He bends down to his wife's ear, planting a kiss against her temple before whispering, “we’ll talk about this later.”

—

Higuruma can prove himself to be a gentleman with you, in instances such as now where he has you on your knees, standing right in front of you with the door to his office locked. He’s got himself pressed up against you, his erection touching your face and forcing you to feel him. You decided to listen to him, wearing something more business casual in a button-up blouse and pencil skirt that had Maki questioning your whereabouts. You never did end up telling her just where you were going, heading straight through the door.

He’s caressing your face, pushing away at your braids. He had undone your ponytail, pulling the clip away to see how it fell past your shoulders. You’re a pretty sight to see like this, so obedient and following every word he says. The lights in his office are dim, but they illuminate against you. It’s as though your skin is glowing, dazzling beautifully as he’s got your cheek pressed against his erection and rubbing himself against you.

Even in proper attire, you manage to make it so sexually appealing. His eyes squinting down in disdain as he tuts out a sigh. “You just can’t seem to do anything right. I guess you’ll be one of those lawyers that sleep their way around to get what they want, huh?”

You shake your head in disagreement, making Higuruma laugh. “Oh, but yes. I’ve got you on your knees right now, looking like whore, so I believe it’s safe to assume what you’re destined for— C’mon and undo my pants for me.”

You should’ve expected it the first time you had come in for your study session, that first Saturday, he did nothing but graze his hands all over your body as he tested you on the material. Who were the most important people in the Japanese dynasty during the Heian era? When did it come to fall? He would ask you all while his hand was on your thigh, inching up and between your legs to cup your heat. You would falter and stammer on your words, feeling his hot touch embedding itself into your skin. Whenever you came close to saying a word, he’d apply pressure and glide his finger down your covered heat.

You were ashamed of yourself. Of wanting this, not telling your parents the full truth, not telling your friends either. Nobara was no longer suspicious, though Higuruma was nowhere near being one of her favorite professors, but she backed off and was no longer checking up on you as she frequently did at one point. But maybe she got tired of your lies and no one longer deemed it her concern.

However, the lust discarded all of that said shame, enjoying the way this older man makes you feel at the swipe of a finger and how his degrading words have created you into someone you could no longer recognize. You could only guess that you weren’t moving fast enough for his liking, feeling his hand come up to grip your jaw roughly and pulling you closer to him. “Aren’t you listening? Take off my pants and suck my cock like the filthy slut you are.”

Your hands tremble as the reach for the zipper of his dress pants, fingertips ghosting against his hard length. Your eyes move to flicker from him down to it, where you can feel that familiar feeling grow inside of you. That flutter deep inside your stomach as arousal pooled onto the center of your panties. You failed to wear a pair of protective shorts underneath, your legs squeezed tightly together as your juices seep through and stick to your inner thighs. Feeling that metal tab, pulling it down. You grow more daring by the second, hands moving to cup his length through the undergarment and fondle it.

You can see how his chest constricts, stopping his breath as he loses himself for a moment. But only for a moment does he shut his eyes, feeling the way your hand is gentle and causing more precum to leak from his tip, before he’s bunched up your hair together and forces you away. You try to contact the high-pitched screech that leaves from your lips. “Do you think you’re the one in charge?”

Tears prickle out from the corner of your eyes as you shake your head, your voice squeaking when you utter out, “no.”

“Then, what’d I tell you to do?” He asks.

“You told me to undo your pants.” Your heart’s beating fast, squinting your eyes as you feel the tears fall before they flutter back open to stare into Higuruma’s. For the first time, he looks so alive, and you take pride to know it’s because of you.

“Did I ask for anything more?”

“No,” you sob.

“Do I have to punish you?” Higuruma hums. “Give you a good spanking and leave that good pussy soaked?”

“No,” you croak. “Please, no.”

Gosh, he can’t help but revel in this. He has you begging. He hums some more, pondering over just what to do with you. “Maybe I will leave you all high and dry, but not before I get what I want. Since, you’re so incompetent and I have to do everything myself—” He tugs down his pants just far enough where it’s right above his knees and brings his underwear down along with it, his cock slapping against his abdomen. “—Hm, suck. Don’t use your hands. Keep them where they’re at.”

His shirt’s still on and hanging down loosely. He grips himself at the base, where it gives you a better peek up his shirt, where you can see the dark hairs of his happy trail travel to his cock. You see how’s sort of let go of himself, his pubic hair untamed. His grip on your hair is still strong, forcing your lips to touch the tip of his cock where pre stil leaks from him. The sticky translucent substance paints your lips with it. Slowly, your mouth opens and he takes the opportunity to make it wider, shoving his cock deep inside your mouth until you’re full of him.

He’s got a set of girth to him, making your mouth stretch open widely as his tip kisses the back of your throat. The mushroom-shaped head of him basking in the feeling of your mouth wrapped around him. Your mouth hollows around his length, trying to accustom yourself to the ache that’s already beginning to settle in. With one hand on your shoulder, Higuruma pushes you further down on your knees as he presses himself into your warmth. How your eyes water so beautifully as another set of tears become to showcase themselves. It causes him to groan, having a young thing like yourself in his grasp, all for him to use and take advantage of.

“The only thing you’re good for is to cry while you take cock,” Higuruma groans as he forces you off his length, watching you inhale deeply. He’s being kind by giving you this rest period, taking a moment to get your features like this memorized. How you already look a mess. “I can see it. You sprawled out on a judge’s desk, pleading with them to make you win. Legs wide open and your pussy begging to be fucked. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Bet you’re fucking soaked.”

Sheathing himself back inside of you, Higuruma groans. “‘M gonna fucking love this. Getting to use you just how I want and cum in that pretty mouth of yours.”

You can barely breathe through your nose with the force he’s using on you, pushing your head down so deep within him that what you can intake is his smell. His earthy cologne still lingering on him as well as his natural musk. Again, you should feel ashamed. You should feel ashamed for how your pussy trembles, your juices soaked to no salvation. You’re careful to go slowly, your hands going unnoticed when they travel in between your legs to cup yourself. You’ve imagined this plenty of times before from the moment you started these one-on-one tutoring sessions with him. You wondered what it would like to feel him, what his cock felt like inside of you— whether it was in your mouth or your pussy.

You wanted to know how it would feel stretching you out and how good he’d fuck you. Nights where you’d play with your pussy, hoping that Maki was fast asleep and didn’t hear the toy that was trapped in between your legs. You’d conceal your moans that dared to slip out, hips bucking as you were close. You’d picture it was Higuruma— your father’s old friend and now professor— making you feel this good. And when you came, you were too scared to make a move, falling asleep in your own mess and hoping that by the next morning, the stench of your release wasn’t as potent as it was in the moment.

Now that you’re below him and getting mouth-fucked by him, it makes you moan out as you stick your hand underneath your skirt, the fabric riding up and barely covering your ass. Fortunately for the both of you, the door is locked. However, if anyone were to come in right now, they’d see your ass on display with your hands right in between your legs and happily sucking off your professor, a man more than twice your age. It would be a pretty sight to behold, watching your pussy drool so selfishly as you play with your clit as Higuruma face fucks you.

His hand in your hair, a slight pain throbbing in the back of your head as he controls your movements altogether. Your head bobs up and down as you moan like a whore under him. He has to lean against the table every so often to get a hold of himself, seeing you like this makes him feel like he’s young again and can’t withhold himself. He pants and grunts, his chest rising and falling as his eyelids grow heavy. He sees the roll of your hips, finding that your hands have snaked in between to touch your pussy. He won’t stop you. No, instead, he chuckles as he rolls his hips into your mouth. “Fuck, you’re such a dirty little whore. Who am I kidding? You’ll amount to nothing the second I’m done with you. Look at you, touching yourself.”

He says it like it’s a sin, spitting it out with so much venom but inside you, his cock twitches. Resting his weight against the desk, he drags you along with him, making sure you never leave his length. He ignores the way you gag around his length, sputtering out in pain as you whine and mewl before his hips move faster. You have to catch air as quickly as possible with the amount of force he uses.

The sounds of blubbering and wet skin sounding from the two of you echoes inside the office. Your pussy clenches as you grind down into your hand, a finger snaking between your walls as you can slightly bounce against it and wishing that it was Higuruma’s cock instead. Your eyes shut tight as you let the tears seep down and dry onto your skin. Your high-pitched moans reverberating against your chest and to him, his arousal pooling into the back of your throat as he hits at your uvula repetitively. All throughout, your desperation to make it through the years pours out of you, greedily taking what Higuruma gives.

It feels like he’s the only person who’s told you the truth to your face. You’re not smart enough; you have no ambition; you’ll amount to nothing. It all pours into your head, your mother’s words, the feigned feelings from family and family friends as they ultimately agree with her. Someone’s finally said it to your face, and you’re coming to accept it. And through your desperation to prove them wrong, but never Higuruma, you’ll do whatever it takes to have them biting at their own words.

Spit pools from the corner of your lips, trickling down your chin as your head looks up at him with a look of determination set in your eyes. It piques his interest what’s made you snap, but doesn’t question it when he feels your tongue grazing the shaft as you finally put in some more effort. Your tongue tasting that vein than ran down underneath, making Higuruma take in a deep inhale. No longer does he have to force you down his length as you meet his thrusts with eagerness and his grip loosens.

“That’s right,” he breathes. “Fuck, be a proud whore and get me off.”

You feel like, after one hit, you’ve become addicted. Fingers stuffed inside your pussy as you multitask with getting him off as well as yourself. Your chest rises and falls and you can feel yourself so close, getting so close to hitting that brink. However, Higuruma stops you before you could, a set of words that have you wondering if sorcery is real. “Don’t you dare fucking cum. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop right now.”

And just the obedient girl you are, you stop with a whiny mewl. Simultaneously, Higuruma pulls out of you, leaving your mouth empty.

“Let me see your fingers,” but as he says so, he reaches for the hand tucked between your legs and brings it up in the air. Holding your hand by the wrist as he sees how your index and middle finger’s coated in your slick, making them glossy as a string hangs in the air.

“Clean them off,” he demands, shoving your hands in your face and near your lips. “Taste how much of a dirty slut you are.”

He watches as your lips wrap your fingers inside, making you taste yourself as you hum in delight. He lets go of your wrist, a firm grip around the base of his cock before he’s ejaculating. Wet and lubricated all thanks to you, he’s gripping the back of your neck and holding you still, making your head lean back. “Be a good girl and—”

You don’t let him finish, lulling your mouth open and sticking out your tongue. Shit, you’re fucking gorgeous like this, he can’t help but think to himself. Fucking his fist, he can feel himself getting closer. Holding you still with a visceral grip, his cock so close to his mouth, he feels himself twitching as that euphoric feeling returns and makes him feel young again. He spurts his seed inside your mouth, white shooting inside and some splattering on your face. You moan out without shame, opening your mouth wider as he continues to leak himself inside of you. “Fuuuck,” he breathes.

Falling from his high, Higuruma comes to his senses as he looks down at you. You haven’t cleaned yourself up, afraid to move. He bends down to pull up his pants, his cock softening as he makes his way over to his desk. Sitting back in his seat, he doesn’t make eye contact with you. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get yourself all cleaned up and get out of my office. We’ll see each other next Saturday.”

—

Being a private investigator means constantly being at discomfort. Well, that’s what it means for Nanami because as he captures each picture of you and Higuruma in such compromising positions, he grimaces. Hired by Shiu Kong, he’s known well throughout the world of law, but also in the underground where the darkness prowls freely. Ties that follow the Zenin clan, he’s a person who’s gone untouched and will continue on remaining so in this world of dirty politics. With every snap of the camera and in such an uncomfortable position, he’s not sure how to reveal to his boss what his daughter and ex-friend have been doing behind closed doors.

Your father decided to give Higuruma some grace— sort of. He hired Nanami to essentially watch over you, see where you go and watch Higuruma’s movements. He didn’t want the blonde to immediately report to him, to simply gather up all intel on the dark-haired bastard before making a sound decision. Maybe, just maybe, Shiu could trust you in the hands of Higuruma. Never did he expect your hands to be all around Higuruma.

Nanami made sure to select the most appropriate photos of the bunch he has of you and the former colleague, watching his boss open the manila folder and take it in— take it all in. A calm before the storm settling in as Shiu looks through each and every photo before he’s at the last one. Then, when he shuts the folder closed, he throws it across the room, all the photographs flying around haphazardly. “Why didn’t you show me any of this sooner?”

“You gave me strict orders not to, sir,” Nanami reminds him, fixing his spectacles. “You made me make sure of it.”

Shiu pinches the bridge of his nose. “One thing you need to know, there’s always a time where you must break the rules— AND NOW WAS ONE OF THEM!” The seat he was in is thrown backwards, now on the ground as he hovers menacingly over Nanami. He huffs and puffs, face reddening with anger.

“Shit,” he curses, hiding his hands in his face. He feels like he’s at the brink of tears. How stupid. How stupid of him to let his guard down. “What am I going to tell my wife? How am I going to explain to her that this—” he gestures towards the thrown down photos “—has been going on for months?”

He starts pacing around the room, hand tangling in his hair before throwing his head back and muttering, “I’m going to kill him.”

Reaching for his phone, Shiu skims through his contacts until he lands on the familiar name— Fushiguro.

—

Months have passed now as winter break draws near. You’ve just finished your final exam, now able to gain some peace as you walk alongside Nobara as the two of you head towards the courtroom. You roll your neck to stretch your body from hours of sitting and stressing. Nobara moans as she hears the crick of her muscles, “Oh, I’m so glad that that’s over with. I’m exhausted!”

“I just want to eat something, then pass out,” you grumble, hands shoved inside of your hoody as you follow alongside her. At the mention of food, her eyes light up as she spins on her heel, grabbing you by the shoulders. “Speaking of food, you wanna go get hibachi? There’s this restaurant not too far away from campus—”

At that moment, your phone vibrates in your pocket, a message from Higuruma popping on screen, but his caller ID underneath an entirely different name. His message is simple: 7:30 pm. Be there. “I’m sorry, Nobara, but I can’t. Something just came up.”

Nobara frowns, crossing her arms. You’ve been talking to some guy, you’ve admitted it, but you never go into complete detail. All Nobara knows is that once he texts, you’re ready to drop everything to run to him. Within her fair share of relationships, never has she been so compliant towards her man’s every request. “I don’t like this, (Y/N). You’re always dropping everything to see this guy and we never have time to hang out with each other anymore. It’s like, once I get you out of the books, something else steals you away from me.”

You frown, feeling guilty, but you can’t miss this. You always tell yourself that, not wanting to go receive any form of punishment from the older man. “I’m sorry, but—”

“That’s all you can say!” Nobara grows agitated, letting you go and turning her back on you. “Y’know what? Just… Just go.”

And you do, without further hesitation.

You body lies down underneath him so pliant, your body so willing to give and respond to him as your legs are wide open. Though it may be on your body, his pussy is displayed open for his sight only. How your folds glisten like porcelain and how you clench in desperation for him— for his cock to fill it up. Such a pretty and disgusting little thing you are, always coming back to be used how he wants and never objecting to a word he says. Never saying no.

He finds it pathetic. He finds you pathetic.

It’s pathetic how as time comes to pass, whenever you look at him, there’s a sense of need in your eyes. Your mind becomes distorted as you long for him by the second. How your mind has come to jumble up together to form these thoughts inside your head that he’d seek out a relationship further than this. How in the past, you’ve confessed to wanting more and while he tells you how pitiful you are, you always come back. You always come back, seemingly hoping and praying that someday he’ll give you what you want.

However, every time he looks into your eyes, he sees your damn father and he knows he can never give you more. Not just because of the restrictions, but because he doesn’t want to.

When you were waiting inside his house, giving you the spare key so that you could hurry inside and get out of the sight of possible nosey neighbors, you were so patient. Laying on his bed with your body sprawled out naked the moment he stepped through his bedroom door, gracing him with the presence of his living fleshlight that he’s come to use and abuse. He’s still got his clothes on, simply pulling down his pants and underwear for his cock to spring free and explore that tight pussy of yours.

How it always manages to snap back into place, making him have to stretch you out all over again baffles him. By the many times he’s fucked you, he should have it shaped to the exact size and measurements of his cock. He barely preps you, pushing the head of his cock at your entrance and listening to the way you writhe and whine underneath him in pain. Your eyes shutting as you cry like you always do. He grins maniacally as his hand comes to wrap around your neck, holding onto it and forcing your head deeper into the soft cushion of his pillow.

He silences you through the constriction of air, your cries now silent as he bottoms out inside of you. Your mewls cut short as you can no longer breathe, and the sting to your face always comes as a shock. With the steady rock of his hips, your pussy clenches around him and sucks him in tightly as you roll your hips languidly, feeling the oxygen return into your lungs.

Higuruma doesn’t want to admit that you have potential. Potential to be a good lawyer. Doesn’t want any guilt to consume him for how he’s made you feel, so fucks into you until your pussy’s all battered and molded back to accommodate him perfectly. You’ve done better than most of the students on your exams, both midterm and finals. You never needed much help from him, you never did. But while your score sits at the top, he has to remind you of your place. That you’ll always be beneath him.

“You think that a good score will carry you on for the rest of your life?” He leans down to grab your bottom lip with his teeth, biting down on the delicate skin as his grip around your neck tightens. He drills into your tight pussy, knowing that his brutal words always make it flutter. “You’ll get nowhere. You’ll always be eating the scum at the bottom of my shoe.”

He chuckles darkly, it echoing through the room as the wet sound of skin slapping against skin vibrates through the air. The stench of sex wafting through as your mixed arousals seep through. He leans down to your ears, nibbling against the skin. “But I’d bet you’d love that, too.”

He slaps you again, the headboard of his bed, hitting the wall repeatedly as the impact sounds through with everything. “Filthy fuckin’ whore.”

Deep in your mind, somewhere far deep within, it’s telling you— practically begging you— to find your way out. It’s asking you to dig yourself out of the trenches as it’s coming to suffocate you and swallow you whole, but you always push it back. Forcing yourself to accept Higuruma’s cruelty and furthermore, to enjoy it. The joy you felt when your exam grades were announced within a little over twelve hours, that sense of relief and pride that rang through your bones as you couldn’t help but tear up a little. A smile gracing your features as you tell yourself that you did it. And Higuruma’s voice infiltrates your mind shortly after to remind you that it’s because of him.

You mewl out, your breasts bouncing with each thrust of his hips as you make sure to meet him with every one of them. Your back arching off the bed as your nails dig into his dark sheets. Your mouth is open agape, crying out and moaning out his name like a mantra. Your juices coating his cock and escaping the tight crevices every chance it gets, slipping deep into the cracks of your ass as your sweet cunt drools for him.

His breath against your skin as he’s so close to your face, brown eyes watching your face twist and contort with pleasure. “Tell me how much of a whore you are.”

“I’m—I’m such a whore,” you manage to gasp, feeling his hands tighten once more. “S-such a filthy and nasty whore.”

“Yes, you are,” he grins wildly. “A dirty whore whose pussy loves older cock. Willing to get drilled by her professor. So, so nasty.”

“Are you…” you try to get your breathing under control. “Will you make me cum tonight?”

“I don’t know,” Higuruma hums, burying himself into you deeply as he stops all ministrations. “Do you think you deserve to cum tonight?”

“Yes,” you nod meekly. “Yes, I’ve been so good.”

“I decide if you’ve been good or not,” another sound of a slap infiltrating the air as Higuruma returns to the beatings of his cock against your walls. He’s an evil man, finding his fill within you as he’s fucked you of his load already, painting your insides white but deciding it’s not enough. When he feels that you’re close, he’ll stop and let your impending orgasm dissipate within the thin air as you whine and mewl in displeasure and beg him to let you have at least one release. It isn’t until he feels that coil in his stomach that he finally decides to be nice.

“Fine, but you’ve got to cum with me,” he says, capturing your lips with a kiss as he holds onto your neck. He swallows your lips in hunger as you gleefully reciprocate the action, kissing him with so much fervor and passion. It’s sloppy as your pussy pulsates, it screams of your essence as you milk the older man of his.

A milky white ring forming around his base as he continues fucking you, forcing the cum to drip out of your pussy as the drilling of his hips slow its rough and fast pace. Together, the both of you catch your breath as Higuruma finally pulls away. And for some reason, you thought tonight would be different, but when he climbs off of you to sit at the edge of the bed, you realize nothing’s changed as his voice rings out. Always the same thing, “Hurry up and get going. It’s getting late.”

At first, you always believed that it was his small show that he cared. It’s getting late, your delusions made you believe that he said that because the sky was darkening and he didn’t want you getting snatched away by the wonders of night. But every time he said it, he sounded emptier and emptier. There’s no meaning behind his words. So, you get dressed, calling yourself a lift for a few blocks down in the hopes of going undetected, never noticing the dark car that’s parked a few houses back, watching you leave.

Shiu lights himself a cigarette, letting out a big exhale when he opens the door the moment you’re no longer in sight. He hated to have prolonged this, but he had to play it smart. Now that colleges will be closing soon for the holidays, it was the perfect time. You had called a couple days prior, saying that you’d be home in two to three days at most. The last thing Shiu had Nanami do was tap your phone, where he saw all your conversations with Higuruma. The conversations the two of you shared were always short and sweet— just what Shiu needed. While you’re on break, Higuruma won’t message you and you’ll come to believe that he’s busy. It wouldn’t be the first he’d gone days without messaging you. You wouldn’t suspect a thing.

He felt disgust within himself, feeling like a failure of a father for letting this happen. He should’ve checked up on you more, should’ve persisted that you only sought him for help. Hell, he should’ve looked through your schedule the moment you got it, so he could’ve nipped it in the bud from then. A fool he is for putting faith in the school he used to attend. He is a fool for giving Higuruma the benefit of the doubt. However, this regret and pent up anger won’t subside the longer he mopes about it. Now that he knows and now that he’s here, something will finally be done about this.

“You sure you wanna witness this?” Toji asks the man, hopping out of his side as they both approach the house. The lawyer had always stayed on the sidelines, never wanting to get too involved in Toji’s lifestyle. Anyone could be watching and that itself was a liability. Though, with a son himself, Toji can’t say he blames the man. But, would the lawyer truly be able to handle the bloodshed? “It can get pretty nasty.”

“Nah, I need to,” Shiu takes a long drag from the cigarette. He can feel it pulsating inside of him. If Higuruma didn’t die tonight, someone else will. “Promised my wife I would.”

“Haha,” Toji chuckles, remembering the night the two of them met. He feels pride within himself for being such a good wingman. “Yeah.”

“That’s enough talking,” Shiu drops his cigarette, crushing it with the heel of his shoe, walking ahead of Toji. “This bastard needs to die.”

Sneaking in through the patio door, the two men walk in silence. The gun that’ll be used to kill the former lawyer tucked away in the back of Toji’s pants, him reaching out to pull it out of the confines. Shiu glances at the hitman, giving him a stern look. “It better not jam.”

“My baby?” he scoffs. “She’d never.”

Shiu rolls his eyes. “Anything goes wrong and your pay’s depleting.”

“We’ll talk about that if it comes to it.” They spot Higuruma in the bedroom. Clothes still on as he reaches for laptop in the cart. Shiu tuts as he opens the door, “Your clothes are still on? Good. At least you’ll die with some dignity.”

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