#I'm fucking determined that he's playing this song

[you-would-turn-it-off-halfway]

[socialmediasocrates]

the competing desires to make comprehensive posts about my idiot children and to just keep rambling into the void are strong ones lemme tell you

[prettyboykatsuki]

objects in the mirror | j. togame

✮ tags ; afab!reader + fem!reader, reader is so painfully dense / naive, ambiguous relationships, friends to ???, somewhat unrelieved sexual tension, sex toys, guided masturbation kinda, kissing, groping, nipples play, squirting, dialogue heavy, vaguely post canon, petnames (kame-chan and jo-chan for togame, baby for reader) 18+

✮ wc ; 6.4k (you have got to be fucking with me)

✮ a/n ; the one fic i wont be mad if you ask for part two on lolol. title from a mac miller song (my favorite mac miller song) that reminds me of a lot of characters but i felt really fit this fic.

go listen to it. his best track. also this like... mega got away from me. togame sorry for blueballing you.

✮ synopsis ; your only goal is to have a half-way decent orgasm. togame, as your best friend, is determined to help you reach it.

"So," Togame leans back into your bed. "You bought a vibrator and... can't use it? Because you keep psyching yourself out?"

"Yeah," You sigh with your head hung low. "Paid good money for it and it's collecting dust in my drawer. I'm miserable."

Togame smiles a little from where he's laid across the width of your bed, back propped up against the wall slightly with his legs hanging off one edge. You kick his side lightly as he fails to contain his amusement.

"Do you enjoy seeing me suffer, huh? You take amusement in my pain, you bastard?"

"Pfft," He snickers, turning a little to face you better. "It's kinda hard not too. Just seems..."

"You think it's stupid," You frown. He scratches his jaw.

"I wouldn't say that. A little silly but—"

"Which is another word for stupid," You point out. He shakes his head.

"The connotations different. Stupid would mean I'm insulting you. I don't think it's stupid. Ridiculous, maybe." And then he laughs to himself like a jackass. "No... I take it back. It's definitely ridiculous."

"You asshole. I should kick you out of my house."

He smiles knowingly, lazy and bemused. "You're not gonna,"

Smug bastard. You groan in defeat. "But I should."

He doesn't reply, brushing you off as easy as ever. "Sorry. Just not sure what exactly you want me to do with that information."

You throw your hands up in the air. "I dunno? Fucking help me. Offer solutions. Use whats left of your brain after getting the shit beat out of you as a teenager. Something."

"Now who's being an asshole." He quips. You frown.

"I'm sorry," You say easily. Togame smiles softly though you miss it while you're looking away. "But...ugh."

"Got such a way with words." He hums sarcastically before sobering a touch. He's scrolling through his phone not entirely paying attenion. "I don't really get why you're askin' me. Don't you have better candidates for this conversation?"

You give him a long-suffering look. "No. Unfortunately I live here, so the answer is not really. I can't talk to Kotoha or Tsubaki about this. We talk about guys and stuff but it's usually pretty PG."

"So I'm your stand in for a girl best friend?"

You tilt your head. "Huh? No. You're just my best friend. I would bitch to you about this either way."

He stares at you for a long while before scrubbing a hand down his face. You can't understand his sudden reaction, watching in confusion as he takes a deep breath.

"Right. Right, I'm your best friend." Togame mutters mostly to himself, sighing before going back to his usual demeanor. He rubs his under his eye. "Really dunno what you're asking for. You can whine however much you want, though."

"I'm not whining," You pause before sighing again. "Okay. Maybe I am whining, like, a little. But you would too if you were me, okay? I want to..." You make a face, the words suddenly feeling clumsy on your lips. You're not even doing anything and you're getting all weird about it. "I just wanna...cum."

Togame pauses. He sits up, sort of suddenly after that and finally has the decency to take off his boots. He scoots to the edge of the bed with his feet on the floor to do it, and you can't see his face when he speaks again. You don't think twice about it.

"Have you not? Like... ever?"

"Huh? No, I have but it's not really satisfying. It doesn't scratch the itch for me, you know? That's what the toy was for."

Togame takes another minute or two of silence as he takes off his boots. You wonder if it always takes him so long to take them off. Seems inconvenient.

He goes back to laying down, leaning on the wall with his legs spread out. "What kinda toy is it anyway?

"Oh, it's—" You stop in the middle of your sentence, brow furrowing. "Wait. Should I be telling you this?"

"Are you suddenly gaining self-awareness? Little late for that." He smiles.

"That's true," You reply, relaxing again with your arms crossed. "Nothing complicated. A rabbit vibrator, but the kinda expensive ones."

"How much?"

"Twelve-thousand yen. I got it on sale too,"

"No wonder you're so peeved you can't use it," Togame comments evenly. "A lot of money to be collecting dust. You even take it out the box?"

You deflate all over again. "Yeah. Charged it. Cleaned it too. But I put it back."

"Lemme see,"

"Huh? Oh, okay. Sure."

You don't bother asking why Togame wants to see your sex toy. It doesn't occur to you that there'd be any reasons outside of plain curiosity which you can understand. Togame dated a girl long-term so he knows some things, but you figure any girl with a decent boyfriend wouldn't need to make the same use of toys as you do. It'd make sense he's never seen one up close and personal.

You scoot to the edge of the bed and lean slightly as you open the side drawer and pull the toy out where it sits in nice, cardboard package. You pass it off to Togame before sitting back comfortably against your headboard.

He sits the box in his lap and stares at it for a long while.

You wonder if this is weird.

It doesn't bother you much either way, but it it is...

Odd, just how long Togame stares at it. He undoes the top of the folded box, pulling it back to reveal the soft, baby blue vibrator. It's six inches long and curved, with a soft rubber attachment to stimulate your clit and angle for your g-spot at the same time. Made with a high quality velveteen silicone. It has a lot of settings, and does the sort of rumbly vibrations you know feel good as opposed to the mechanical buzz of cheaper kinds.

Completely unused, Togame holds in his hands for a while, grabbing it by the ends. He doesn't touch it in a way that's weird. More like he assesses it. Measures it. You don't know for what though.

"It's cute."

"Huh?"

"The vibrator, I mean." Togame comments, putting it back in the box. His expression is unreadable. Something simmers under the surface of his neutral face but you can't place what exactly. "It's a cute color and the little pointed part here is cute."

You place a hand on your chest and close your eyes in sincerity. "Thank you. I also think I have excellent aesthetic taste."

Another pause. Brief but not.

"Do you want help using it?"

"Wha—"

"The vibrator," Togame clarifies before you get through the rest of your sentence. "Do you want me to help you use it?"

Your mind blanks. Your mouth moves faster than you can.

"...In what way?"

Togame remains steady. "Getting you comfortable and putting in you. As far as solutions go, it's the best I've got."

...Huh?

"Wouldn't that be awkward for you?"

"Is it awkward for you?" Togame replies back.

You stop to consider the question then shake your head.

"I mean...It's you. I trust you and I'm grateful but this..." You furrow your brow and look towards him. "Can you really do something like that with me? Just to help me?"

"Yeah." He replies. The words come so easily to him you're startled. Was he always this casual? You guess in a way but still. It's surprising. "It's the most direct route to solve your problem, I think. Once you've done it once with someone else, you'll definitely be able to do it alone right?"

You reason about this and find it's a somewhat optimal solution. You can't figure out the exact source of your unease about all of it, though it's there. You can't figure out Togame either. You appreciate how much he seems to want to help you but it doesn't make your worries go away.

You frown a little deeper.

"You're thinking about it too hard." Togame interjects. His tone is warm and easy.

"You're not thinking about it hard enough," You respond back. "What are you trying to do anyway? To help."

"Scratch the itch for you. Just think of it like that."

"Does that do anything for you?"

He dodges the question. "Don't worry about me. I'm offering. Promise it's fine."

You frown with your legs crossed, staring at the empty space of the bed. "...I g-guess it's fine? I can't think of a reason to say no."

"You don't mind doing this with me? Or is it because you're okay with anyone?"

You shake your head.

"What are you saying? Of course it's because you're the one asking. I trust you."

He smiles genuinely at that, eyes closed in what seems like relief. "I just wanted to make sure."

Togame opens his eyes again and casts them your way. Your breathing feels shallow under the weighted glance. He sits up a little more and shrugs his jacket off his shoulders, placing it on the pillow next to you. He feels broader without the layer of fabric over his torso, white shirt stretching over his frame as he sits on the bed on his knees.

"Lay down. Get comfortable."

You nod, adjusting the pillows and things and trying not to feel self-conscious or get cold feet. It speaks to your desperation that you're taking this help so willingly and from your long time best friend no less. In the back of your head, you do feel a little strange.

Togame is just being a good friend, that's what you tell yourself. You believe it too.

He hovers above you first. You tilt your head to look at him, the short gap of space between you feeling particularly small while also being miles wide. Your stomach flutters as Togame's eyes fix on your lips.

He leans forward and presses his mouth to yours. It's chaste. You wonder if you look even half as surprised as you feel.

"What was that for?"

"Breaking the ice."

You mumble. "Oh..."

Togame kisses you again that time, and then one more time before speaking up. "You're so naive."

"Huh? No I'm not,"

He brushes you off again that time before sitting up again. He sits between your legs where you have them spread. You have no idea what he's thinking or why he's doing this.

Unlike most people, you usually do have a good read on what Togame is feeling. He's upfront most of the time, despite his posturing seeming wishy-washy. It's a little weird to feel so out of bounds around him, like he purposely has his guard up. You wonder if that guard is for you, or for him. Is he uncomfortable somehow? Is he trying not to hurt your feelings by not being interested? You're not really expecting that.

But if that were the case, there's no reason he would help you this way.

Before you get too entranced in your thoughts, Togame snaps you out of them.

"How do you normally do this?"

You blink and look up.

"Do what?"

"Get off," Togame answers. Your eyes meet and you find yourself wanting to look away. "You said it was unsatisfying so I thought it'd be better if we started there,"

"Uhm," You feel embarrassed trying to talk about this. You're not sure why. It's not something you'd feel self-conscious outside this specific context but Togame just seems more... intense then usual. Like he's being serious about your silly problem. "D-depends? Sometimes I watch porn or listen to audios or read. Not always."

"Got it. How do you touch yourself then?"

He looks expectant. You turn your head to look away from him. The minutes tick by.

"Uhm... just rubbing my c-clit usually. I have uhm, other toys I'll use sometimes too but I need to touch my clit to get off." You wonder if these are too many details. Togame is listening to it so carefully. "Uhm. If i-its too sensitive I'll touch over my clothes too. Sometimes I cum like that."

His face shifts. It lingers long enough for you to notice but not enough for you to process what it was. He's back to his usual self so quickly you wonder if you've made the entire thing up.

"Right. I think I know what your problem is,"

You feel a little relieved at that. "Really?"

He pauses before smiling a little with a friendly nod that reminds you of how you were when you were kids, a face that's unexpectedly kind. "Really."

You look at him expectantly.

"I think you're not building up to it enough." Togame comments, smoothly. You blink at him. "You're a girl, you know? Can't jump straight into it, you need to stimulate yourself more first and relax. You're so focused on cumming it backfires. I'll help you."

"How...?"

"I'll help you relax and help you figure out what you like. Don't think about it too hard and focus on feeling good."

"You really don't have to do this for me," You mumble. He smiles at you.

"C'mon. You just said I was your best friend right? I don't mind, so chill out and let me help."

"Okay," You nod, bright eyed. "Okay....thank you."

He makes a face at you before nodding. "Uh-huh. Of course."

Togame hovers above you with lazy smile. You close your eyes on instinct as you feel your lips press together. His lips are softer than you thought they'd be. A hand cups the back of your neck and brings you closer to him. The weight of his body makes you self-conscious about his proximity. You can smell the scent of his skin, feel his presence surround you as he kisses you soft to start.

The shift in the air surrounding you is gradual in a way that reminds you so much of Togame. He's not intense at the beginning, never is really is - but then his hand goes to hold your knees and pull your legs up. His tongue slips against the closed seam of your lips until they part, until he touches yours and you have to reconfigure how you breathe. He's so good at kissing you it makes you wonder if he's kissed you before and you can't remember. But then it feels good and you're reminded—

If it felt this good there's no way you would've forgotten it.

When you pull away for air to breathe, or start to stumble through a question on how this is helping - Togame shuts you up. It takes it happening twice for you realize it's deliberate. Every time he kisses you a little deeper, and the last time he slips his tongue in so far you'd think he's trying to eat you whole.

You're wet. You're unsure if you're allowed to feel guilty about it, or if you're even meant too. Anyone would be turned on getting kissed like this. You're really unsure about all of this but you're fine because it's Togame. There's no way he'd do anything bad to you or for you.

He's over protective in general, though he's rarely frank about it.

(If you were any less clueless, you'd would know that most times Togame is doing his best to protect from himself. Most times, he feels like the biggest danger to you)

Togame pulls away from your lips when you moan a little. You feel embarrassed at the state your left in and how he looks at you. Picking you apart in his mind but not with ill intent. Like he wants to know every thread of your want.

Again, you think he's going to tease you. Light but still teasing.

"Does that feel good?"

It's a serious question. It stuns you. Just a little. His hand on the back of neck feels hot. You notice the way his thumb caresses your nape and try not to stutter.

"Uh..y-yeah." You reply, trying not to look stupid. "I like kissing. Uhm. In general."

He doesn't react to that, nods in a way you find curt in comparison to how passionately he was kissing you just moments ago. "It'll help you relax." And then, a little softly. "If you want to kiss again and we're not already, ask."

An odd request but you acquiesce with another soft noise.

"Do you feel a little warmed up?"

His eyes are so strangely shaded in this light. You open your mouth to the awkward confession. "Oh... nn. I'm... y-yeah. I'm wet already."

"From kissing?"

You give him a sheepish look. Togame responds with another kiss that makes you feel like you're being driven into a corner. This one is hot and heavy, doesn't build up but starts with an almost oppressive air. He nips at you, teeth tugging at your lips and licking in earnest to your mouth. Long and deep until your brain feels melty, your thoughts swimming and clouded. Longing for touch and release. Arousal threads through the fibers of your muscles, makes you feel wound up tight - a serpents coil. You clench your thighs on instinct at the worsening wetness.

Your mouth feels swollen and bitten when you pull away again and Togame looks a little more like you're used to him looking. An underlying sense of smug self-satisfactions on his face as he looks down at you, not outweighed by his genuine ease.

A look on his face like he likes your company. You find him comforting in how easy it is to see.

"Is it okay to touch you in other places?"

"Uhm. Anywhere above the belt is fine, I think."

"Makes sense,"

He leans up and slides both hands underneath your hoodie. You're not really prepared for... this. You don't know if you can call it sex or not but whatever it is, you weren't intending for it to happening.

"You're not wearing a shirt," His hands feel so big on your waist. Big and calloused, split skin scarred over from fighting. "A bra?"

"A sports bra."

"Right."

He slides your hoodie up over your torso until it's bare and takes your sports bra along with it in one go. Your tits fall from them with a soft swish with how quick he does it, the light bounce making your skin grown hot. Togame hovers above you as he eyes them, palms just underneath but not touching.

"Stop looking so hard."

He brushes past that. "They're nice."

"Shut up," You say for the first time. Togame smiles slightly.

"Not a nice way to talk to someone who's helping you," He says sarcastically. You pout but refuse to apologize. He remains unbothered then goes back to being alarmingly serious. "Do you play with them?"

"H-huh? When I masturbate? Not really. I've never thought too."

"Why's that?"

You shrug. "The guys I dated used to touch them but it mostly felt weird, not good. Never thought of trying on my own."

He gives you a looking asking for permission. You nod. This really does not feel normal but the arousal clouding your brain is a lot louder than your sense of shame.

Togame's hands slide up your sides until he's cupping the roundness of your chest. His thumbs hover against hardened nipples, constrained in the touch. It's different than how other guys have done it for you. He's paying attention to that bit most, and he's going about it softly. Pushing the hardened bud with a light flick that sends a jolt of shock through your body.

He's quick to notice your reaction, green eyes flickering up before doing it again. You squirm, stretching your legs and shifting as another tick of arousal goes through your whole body. Your clit is starting to throb so much it hurts. If it were you, you would've started touching yourself a long while ago. As soon as you felt yourself get wet.

Togame is taking his time, though. And you're feeling it so much it's a little shameful for you. He does it again, touching your nipples - both side at the same time. Your body is pushing for more.

You've managed to keep the noise down but you're pushed over your usual limits. A moan spills from your lips as you push up into his touch. "That's good, huh? Just needed it a little softer and more focused."

You try not to be any more embarrassing. Wouldn't anyone feel weird over this?

He's the most important person in your entire life, and he's seeing you like this. Not judging you, just remaining even and consistent. Teasing you but not enough to make you upset. He's being so careful. Is this the kind of boyfriend he is? You think that must make him popular, so then... why does it never work out? He's never dated anyone longer than a year.

But he's being so sweet to you despite not dating. He's always kind but this is different. You can't imagine who would see this part of him and break up.

You try not to think about any of this but the only other thing you can focus on is him rubbing your nipples and how nice it feels. The moan of his name is pitchy, sounds foreign to your own ears with how high and broken it is.

"Kame-chan," Your voice is warbly when you ask. You just want to stop thinking. "Kiss?"

He pauses. You think he's going to deny you at first.

"Fuck. That ain't fair, you know?"

You don't know what he means, but he complies and kisses you open mouthed as he plays with your tits. Rubs and flicks them just the way you like. It feels so good. You've never felt anything like it before. Your tummy flutters, honeyed lust dripping down your inner thighs.

Your body moves on it's own, your hands carding through his hair as arousal starts to pool. Your panties feels soaked and sticky, through the fabric. You shift again trying to relieve the feeling, brain scrambled by Togame's touch.

You're so horny you can't make sense of anything. Your body is a relentless echo of your wants and needs - demanding attention. His attention, specifically. Need curls up in your chest.

Between kisses you confess this to Togame, who you trust now more than ever despite feeling so incredibly vulnerable. How could you not go with it when he's taking such good care of you?

"Wanna cum so bad," You mutter, sloppy between kisses. Togame takes in a deep breath as he pulls away.

"You think you're worked up enough for it?"

You see through him instantly even in your haze. "Don't be mean to me, you jerk."

"Caught me, huh? Okay, okay. How do you normally do this?"

"Do what?"

"Fuck yourself with something,."

The words send heat sparking against your spine. You tuck your face against his jacket where it's laying besides you and huff. It smells like him. "Ngh. Usually finger myself a little first."

"Got a good idea then." He hums. The sound of his voice, low and smooth, makes you feel comforted. "I'll lay next to you and help keep you distracted while you open yourself up, yeah? Nothing below the belt 'n all. And when you're already I'll put in for you and turn it on."

You sniff. "Okay."

He smiles at you, pulling his hands and body away from you before laying besides you instead. He lets you rest your head against his arm and shoulders - sneaking the rest of his arm around and underneath you, squeezing one of your tits. He presses your body into him and gropes around the bed for the box with your toy, grabbing it from inside before shoving it away.

Up close, you can feel his muscles even better than you could. You wonder how someone so relaxed could be this built but try not to let it burden your brain. He smells so nice. Did he always? You feel too horny to remember, but you like it.

You can feel him glancing down at you, amused.

"Comfy?" Togame's voice vibrates through your whole body.

"Uh-huh."

"If you turn your head towards me I can kiss you and touch you. Keep your mind occupied a bit."

"Oh. That makes sense."

"It does right? Go ahead and start."

You think you should tell him not to watch. Keeps his eyes for himself. But the focus of his gaze makes you burn so much hotter you don't bother. He's already seen so much, anyway.

You shimmy out of your sweat pants until they're down at your ankles revealing your panties. Baby blue printed boyshorts, fabric soaked until they look a nearly new navy shade. You feel his laughter less than you hear it, turning your head to glare at him. He smiles a little at you.

"Those are cute too," Togame comments. You can hear his voice so clearly like this you think you'll collapse if you pay too much attention to it. "Too bad you made 'em all messy."

You swallow a sound, too horny to protest. He stops you before you can take your panties off.

"Didn't you say you normally touch over the fabric when you're sensitive? Do that."

"But—"

"Just trust me," He promises. He kisses your hair. Your heart thuds when he does it. It's an innocent gesture. "It'll make it more satisfying, okay?"

Your shaky as you spread yourself a little wider and slip your hand down between your legs. All the desire you're holding starts to unwind as your middle finger slides over the soaked seam of your cotton panties. They're cuter than normal, printed with florals and lace trimmed. Absolutely drenched in your arousal. You rub a small circle into your clit and your whole body breaks out into shivers, your eyes fluttering closed at the sensation.

You could cum like this. Just from this. But you want something more, something better so you force yourself to go slow.

"It's messy," Togame hums, nonchalant. "You get easier than I thought you would. Are you going slow so you don't cum right away?"

"Don't point it out, aah,"

"You should cum if you want too," Togame suggests.

"No," You whine. "Wanna cum with the toy."

"Wanna cum with a cock inside you, ya mean? A silicone one but still. Not enough to just touch yourself, you need something more, is that it?"

He says the words so casually, so lightly. Almost friedly despite how filthy they are. There's no malice in them.

Spoken like high praise or affection. The kind you'd show a kitten,.

"Kame—"

"Didn't know your had such a need pussy. No wonder it's hard to cum all by yourself, huh?"

"Stop being mean," You gasp. "I'll cum,"

He laughs at that. It's genuine and bright.

"Too much for ya, huh? S'okay. Take these off now. Finger yourself. Make sure you get all that mess you made so we can use on your toy. It'll hurt if it's dry going in."

You feel blindsided by just how much Togame is talking. He's been so quiet, so brief and unreadable. He feels like his usual self too much, to your complete detriment. His voice is teasing, yet warm and sweet. He smells good and he's pressing you all against his chest. Your fingers tremble as you slide your panties down to your ankles same as before. You end up shimmying the rest of your clothes off.

You're so aroused it's easy to get the first finger in. Your hole twitches, the entrance pleasurable as slowly ease your middle finger down to knuckle. You til your head towards Togame as you get adjusted to the intrusion easily from how wet you are, pouting your lips. He gives into the kiss right away, warm tongue and soft lips familiar to you now. You ease yourself into the pace of his kiss, whimpering into his mouth as you slowly open yourself on second finger.

"I want it so bad," You mumble. He laughs against your mouth.

"I can tell. Can barely string a sentence together. You want to cum huh?"

"Uh-huh."

"What a naughty pussy. You're trembling from just fingering yourself. Won't you cum right away if I put in you at once? I'll have to go slowly," Togame explains. He speaks the filth so naturally. "Take my time so you're stretched nicely and not scared anymore. I'll turn the vibrator on after it's already inside so you can't run away from it. You can cum to your hearts content, then."

"I'm still scared," You admit. You're just so horny you're unsure of what else to do. He leans down to kiss you again, nose brushing against yours intimately.

"Don't be scared. Just focus on stretching so you're not so tight. I'll praise you if you take it in easily."

Your voice gives once you manage to get a third in. Togame doesn't stop kissing you, barely giving you enough air to breathe. He plays with your chest with his free hand, and holds the toy with the other.

A string of spit connects you. Your thighs are aching, body burning hot as you look at him directly.

"Wanna cum," You slur your words, speaking in short sentences. Togame grins a little.

"Take your fingers out and show them to me."

Your stomach flips but you comply with the request. Your face burns from how soaked they are.

"Good. Rub them on the toy now. Get it as sticky as you can."

Your heart is pounding is loud in your ears as you clumsily coat your new toy with your own mess. You watch it gain a fresh shine, baby blue turning reflective as you push it against and between your fingers until all of it's coated as best you can.

"That's it, good. Spread your legs now. Gonna put it in. Want me to kiss you?"

You nod sheepishly and close your eyes. Togame laughs warmly before kissing you again.

Your whole body throbs in anticipation for it. A muscular forearm and hand slip between your legs as you spread yourself open, your feet flat on the bed for easier access. Togame forces his tongue into your open mouth, kissing you wet and hard as he tweaks your nipples. You feel pleasantly suffocated from the pressure before gasping into his mouth.

The swollen silicone head of your toy stretches your pussy more than you thought it would. You've never had a toy with angles so the sensations are all new. You can feel it so well inside of you, you can barely keep your composure long enough to stop moaning as just the tip slides in. Togame swallows each noise from your mouth. His kisses feel almost ferocious now when they were so composed before, free hand cupping your jaw from one side.

He fucks it in slowly, rocking the toy by its handle slowly until you get used to it - giving you moments between to adjust. You can feel it bottom out inside of you, the head pressing so precise on your swollen gspot you could cum from bucking your hips. Your sensitivity is over the top. Every touch and and tease and bump makes your cunt clench and throb.

The blunt end of the rubber attachment presses against your needy little clit. Togame moves the toy a little, fucking you with it slightly again. Barely. It still nearly makes you cum.

You feel like he's edging you. Anymore than this, you think you'll go crazy.

"Kame-chan." Your voice is beyond wrecked, throat as one of your hands reaches to cling desperately to his short sleeves. You fist it, teary. "Jo, turn it on please. Make me cum. Wanna cum so bad, 'm so close, please, please. C'mon."

"Turning it on, baby. Easy."

The word baby makes your body melt.

A slight click sounds as Togame turns on the vibrator.

Your whole body lurches at the sudden change. Togame pins you with his own, keeps his hands steady and the toy inside of you without skipping a beat. The soft whirr of the first setting completely unravels you. It feels like every nerve in your body is being pulled apart, electricity through a frayed copper wire. The muscles in your body aching with anticipation after so many dissatisfying orgasms clench tight as your body prepares itself for something so vast your mind can't process it at all. Your hands fist at your sides, clutching the sheets as you get close to cumming.

You're thrashing from the sensation. It's so much, too much - you've never felt anything like it before. You feel full and euphoric and your head is spinning. It feels so good it terrifies you, makes you clench up hard in how unbearably unrelenting it is. There's no pace, no where to escape from. The vibrations are strong but not overwhelming to the point you can't feel them.

You're so senstive all over your body and it's touching you in two places.

Your spine starts to curl into an arch, hips stuttering and twisting as you feel it rushing over your consciousness. Fuck, you've wanted this for so long. It's exactly the high you've been chasing after on your own for so many months it's making your brain feel like like mush. Animal instinct forces your hips up, bucking against Togame's hand where he holds the toy. You're fucking yourself on it. You can hear him laugh as he moves to meet you ruts.

You feel like you're losing your fucking mind.

"G-gonna—fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! I can't, I can't, I can't. Feels so good, Ican't."

He leans in and gets close to your ear, tongue caressing the lobe before biting it soft.

"Yes you can. You want it so bad don't you? Wanna cum all over this cock so bad you've been aching for it. I know you want it, I can see it. Look how much your moving your hips." His voice is shaking, hands flicking your nipples messy and harsh as he speaks. "Look what a mess you're making. You're leaking everywhere. You want it badly right? Don't think about it and cum. Cum as much as you want. Cum for me,"

The last words are the ones to snap the thread inside of you.

Your brain bluescreens as your body seizes before finally, finally giving you the orgasm you've been chasing. You smash your lips against Togame's as your spine arches off the bed, thrashing in place. Something in you undoes - and you feel a wet rush spray from between your legs at the same time your orgasm hits. Your mind feels completely and utterly blanked. Your body is in total rapture, uncontrollable pleasure fucking your brain until you're stupid and slack jawed. It feels so good, so so good. You didn't know anything could ever feel that good in your life. It's scary.

You feel like you could get addicted. Your high rides out for much longer than ever before. In between sloppy kisses, you say the same words over and over and over. Togame grips you close to him as you do.

"Jo," You mutter. "Thank you, thank you, thank you—feels so fffucking good, fuck. I can't, I can't. Off, off. 's too much, I'll pee."

Instead of turning it off, he turns the vibration up by one. Your eyes fly open as you gasp, words rushed. Panicked.

"I can't," You swear, looking at him for mercy. His face is flushed. "I can't, Jo-chan, I'll cum again, I'll—"

"Cum." He says, demands - voice rougher than you've heard it all night. "I know you can. Cum,"

On demand practically, your legs seize up and you cum again a second time in near succession. You feel so fucking incredible you think you're going to die.

"Fuck!"

You squirt again, body nearly giving out as more short spurts soak your sheets and mattress. Your pussy is pulsing in the after math, trembling and clenching so violently. You whine loudly as Togame stops the vibration and pulls the toy out, shivering as it catches on your tight hole before coming out of it with a soft pop.

Your legs are twitching.

Even though Togame has no more reason to kiss you he does. And even though you're well past the point of needing to kiss him back, you do more affectionately than any time prior.

"You made me feel so good it's freaking me out." You admit, shaking uncontrollably.

Togame pauses before breaking out into genuine laughter. He kisses your head, arm wrapping around your shoulders until you're hugged against him.

"You were so sexy like that."

You blink at him, face flushed.

"Sexy?"

"I was really hard seeing you cum," He says, casually looking down. "I didn't know you could be cute and ask for kisses. You're usually more—"

You put a hand over his mouth.

"Whatever you're gonna say shut up,"

He just smiles, cheek against your hair. "I'm glad you got to feel good."

"What about you?" You mumble, feeling your heart pick up just asking. "Are you still hard? I feel like I should pay you back somehow,"

He looks at you seriously. "Do you know what you're implying?"

You fold a little but nod anyway. "Yeah."

"Do you really? The monk thing is a joke, you know. If you offer something like that, I won't be able to stop."

"It's fine," You say confidently before adding, much quieter. "I r-really want to do... it with you."

Togame pauses before kissing you deeply. Your whole body feels molded to him now.

"Damn it." He looks down at you, black hair sticking to his skin. You wanna feel his undercut with your hands in his hair. "You know this ain't normal between friends, right?"

"Uhm, yeah? I figured."

"Don't go around getting help from anyone."

You shake your head. "It's only 'cause it's you."

He scrubs a hand over his face and laughs. "You don't need to stir me up anymore. I'm already hard enough. Can't keep my composure at all."

You tilt your head in confusion. Togame just sighs.

"Don't worry about it." He says, shaking his head. "How soon can I get my thanks?"

Your eyes widen as you clench again. "Uhm. Now, if you want it."

He grins a little lazy, eyes swimming with adoration.

"I do," He hums, laying back as you get up from where you've been laying. "Come over here and let me touch you properly then."

"Is that what you really want?"

You climb ontop of him, bare naked almost as your hoodie falls back down over your torse. Togame slides the fabric up and gives you a meaningful look.

"More than anything,"

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

hiii <33

first i want to say that i absolutely ADORE your page on here, your writing is just wow, perfection!! i really liked your sirius story (even tho i strayed off a bit and started liking rabastan too ahahahah-) it's amazing omg

and i was wondering would you be up for writing for barty? anything with him honestly lol, but if you don't have any ideas feel free to ignore this!

SAY LESSSSSSS (I've been dying for someone to request Barty or rosekiller pls send all the requests). Also! so glad you enjoyed that fic! (I played myself and kinda fell for Rab too 😬)

I Wanna Be Yours | BCJ

feat. Barty Crouch Jr. x blackcat!reader

SUMMARY: Barty is determined to win your affection, but due to his larger-than-life personality and your aloof nature, you find it difficult to trust his intentions.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, pov switches once, a little angst and a little fluff, blackcat!reader, artist!Barty, only soft for each other, mentions of drinking and drug use, strong language, sort of insecure!reader, Barty is a giant simp

AN: i'm having my scene music renaissance, and something about that era is so Barty-coded. I have a few other songs that suit him in my mind, but I'd love to hear any ideas you guys might have!

masterlist

“Honestly, I don't know what Slughorn’s problem is. If I want to make a love potion that makes Xeno hard for four days, I can—”

“Four days and I would die of deprivation,” Xenophilius chuckled, his arm draped over Pandora's shoulders.

“Sure, but what a way to go.”

You walked beside them, half-listening to their sugar-dipped conversation, equal parts disgusted and deeply jealous. You'd never admit it, but you so badly wanted what your best friend had. Devotion, affection, complete and total acceptance. But you walked through life like a spring-loaded trap, biting the fingers off anyone that dared come close.

“Should we grab dinner before heading to the library? I'm starved,” Pandora said, turning her attention to you.

“Sure, it's probably quiet this early anyways—”

“Going to dinner, are we?” Evan bound up between Xeno and Pandora, throwing his arms over their shoulders. “I'm fucking ravenous.”

Two arms looped around your waist, hauling you back into a solid chest. The familiar scent of clove cigarettes and paint enveloped you, as if you needed any clues to know exactly who had the audacity to handle you so boldy.

“As am I,” Barty purred against the shell of your ear.

You wriggled in his hold, slapping at his forearms until he released you. “Not in the mood, Junior,” you warned, ignoring the way your stomach flipped when you met his dark eyes, eyeliner smudged along his lashes.

“Aw, don't be cross, gorgeous. You looked like you needed a hug,” he teased, falling into step between you and Pandora, slowing his natural gait considerably. He snatched your books from your arms, ignoring your protest and cradling them against his chest. He was dressed in a white dress shirt and a Slytherin vest, his tie loose and sleeves pushed up, hand-poked tattoos sprawling and dark against his forearms.

“I'm fairly certain she needs a hug as much as she needs your dumbass in her space,” Pandora said, rolling her eyes. “Which is not at all.”

“Oh, she needs me.” Barty grinned. “She just doesn't know it yet.”

“Give it a rest, Crouch,” Xeno cut in. “Keep pushing her and you'll end up on the bottom of the Black Lake.”

“Oh, how exciting! How will you do it, treasure? Stabbing? Maiming? Choking? Oh Merlin’s fuck, please say choking—”

“Maiming sounds about right,” you bit, attempting to get your books back, but he was far too tall, holding them way above your head. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of jumping for it, and crossed your arms over your chest with a huff.

“You can maim me whenever you like,” he said, a cheeky smirk on his stupid, handsome face. “Will you do it now if I ask nicely?”

You ignored him, looking forward again.

Barty Crouch Jr. loved nothing more than fucking with you, finding the gaps in your armor and trying to pry them open. But no matter how attractive you found him, because saints was he attractive, or how endearing he could be in the in-between moments, you refused to play his game.

You would not be made a fool of, not like every other person he set his sights on and got bored with a week later.

“So are we eating or what?” Evan asked, walking backwards at the front of the group. Any student unfortunate enough to be in his path quickly scurried out of it, cowed by the Slytherin's reputation for retaliation.

You watched them shrink away from Barty too, who clearly got some sick sense of pleasure from it. He even bared his teeth at a Gryffindor that veered to close to you, flipping your bodies around so he was on the outside and you were next to Pandora again.

“I'm actually going to head back to the dorm,” you said, slowing so you fell out of line with them. “See you later?” You said to Pandora, who gave you a tight frown.

“Are you sure?” She asked, tilting her head like an avian.

“Yeah, you guys enjoy,” you said, pretending you didn't see the disappointment flash across Barty’s face as you turned on your heel, letting the opposite flow of students sweep you up and away from your friends.

The truth was, Barty scared the shit out of you. He was everything you weren't: outgoing, bold, rebellious, and just charming enough to get himself out of whatever mess he and Evan made. And for whatever reason, he was obsessed with pushing your buttons. And he did, with infuriating efficiency.

Pandora insisted it was all in good fun, that he was harmless, but you knew better. You saw the way he manipulated others to get what he wanted, the way he masked his calculation with charisma.

Barty Crouch Jr. was far from harmless, and even if he had his friends fooled, he would not fool you.

Barty's POV

Barty watched your head bob away through the crowded corridor, your books still heavy in his arms and guilt gnawing a hole in his chest.

Why couldn't he just fucking control himself? He felt like a noxious ball of energy, filling whatever available space he could, unable to contain his own impulses, a slave to his own existence.

He just wanted you so badly. You occupied every part of his mind, owned every thump of his wretched, ruined heart. He was irrevocably, intrinsically yours, but you couldn't stand him, and it was largely his own damn fault.

Because he was broken. Couldn't hold a normal conversation. Couldn't flirt in a way that wasn't deeply vulnerable, or obscene and intense. For Merlin’s sake, he'd begged you to choke him just now.

You were a fix he couldn't get, so he was suffering withdrawals from a drug he never had. He was going mad with it, the desperation for your attention. He would do anything to hear you say his name, to occupy an ounce of space in that beautiful brain, even if meant looking like an idiot. Like a psycho.

It was worth it just to have you look.

After dinner, the four of them returned to the Slytherin common room, Barty still carrying your books with a wrapped bundle on top. Every step towards your shared dorm with Pandora made his heart beat faster, a nervous sweat collecting along his spine.

Nothing made him nervous like you did.

Barty walked into the room last, his eyes immediately drifting towards your bed even though he tried to resist. You were curled up against a pile of pillows, surrounded by parchment and open books, your quill scribbling furiously across the page in your lap.

You glanced up when they entered, meeting his eyes for a split second, low-lidded and disinterested, per usual, and turned your attention back to your work.

The dismissal itched like a bug under his skin, his blood going hot and tingly. He needed you to look at him again.

He set your books on your desk and kicked off his shoes, flopping onto your bed before he really thought about it. It was softer than his, covered with quilts and pillows, and he noticed a little stuffed cat tucked away under your covers. He could smell you all around him, so sweet and warm, and whatever rationality he had left dissolved into goo.

“Who invited you?” You snapped, shoving at his shoulder with little success. A swell of affection at your pitiful attempt made his heart beat quicken, you were just so fucking cute.

He set the paper bundle on your chest. “Thought you might be hungry, sweetness,” he said, hugging one of your pillows to his chest.

Merlin, you were so beautiful when you glared at him like that. He filed the image away for later, mentally sifting through his paint collection for the perfect shade to match your pout.

You looked a bit perplexed at the package, almost angry, and his anxiety returned, fighting through the haze caused by your proximity. “You brought me food?”

He nodded, biting back ‘and dessert too’. He wanted you to actually eat the food, not throw it at his head.

Hesitantly, you unfolded the bundle, as if he'd given you something rotten, or was pulling a prank. It made his lungs squeeze with guilt. He was shitty to a lot of people, most people. But not to you, never you.

Your brow softened with relief when you realized it was just a sandwich, before quickly furrowing again. He wanted to smooth it with his lips, kiss you until it never creased with worry again.

“I'm not hungry,” you said, setting the bag on the side table. A twinge of hurt stabbed between his ribs, but didn't let his smile falter. He knew that's what you would say. And he also knew you would eat it later, when no one was around to see you accept a small gesture of kindness.

That was good enough for him.

You slid out of your bed, leaving his side cold, and he stretched out against your sheets, wallowing in your residual warmth like a niffler in a pile of gold.

The others chatted around you, Xeno lighting up a joint by the cracked window, but you sat down at your desk, turning back to your work and tuning them out.

Barty sighed, letting his eyes flutter closed so he could pretend he was wrapped in you body instead of your sheets, his nose buried into your hair instead of your pillow.

Reader's POV

You and Pandora walked arm in arm into the library, chatting about the idiots in your Transfiguration class. You were headed to your usual spot at the back of library, a collection of over stuffed chairs by a stained glass window overlooking the Forbidden Forest, and stopped short when you saw Regulus, Evan, and Barty already there.

Barty was reclined in the window, his long legs propped up against the other side, a sketchbook in his lap, quill between his teeth.

“Excuse the hell out of me,” Pandora said, startling them all from their abnormal quiet.

Barty's head snapped up, his eyes immediately landing on you, and he about fell out of the window.

“What? Like you own this table?” Evan drawled, not looking up from his book,his expensive loafers propped up on the table.

“Yes,” Pandora shot back, dropping down beside him and pulling out her books with clear agitation. "So if you're staying, keep your mouth shut."

Evan mimed zipping his lips and crossed his heart. Barty just turned back to his sketchbook instead of sauntering over to you with some cheeky quip on his tongue.

A prickle of uncertainty climbed your neck. Perhaps you really had upset him about that sandwich. You wish you hadn't said you were hungry as soon as it came out of your mouth, but you were too proud to apologize. You were so stunned by the gesture, so overwhelmed by his body pressed against you, his warmth mixing with yours, that you clammed up. Shut him down.

But even now, you couldn't bring yourself to approach him and apologize. Thank him. So, you sat down beside Regulus, the only other member of the group you found tolerable most of the time, and he greeted you with a dip of his chin.

You pulled out your work, determined to pretend Barty wasn't there at all.

Of course, you failed. Your eye kept wandering back to him, his sharp jaw silhouetted by the light, his pierced brow furrowed in concentration as his hand moved across the page, silver rings adorning ink stained fingers. He was dressed down today, jeans and Slytherin sweater, the collar of his shirt underneath it crooked.

After an hour or so of quiet, he dozed off, his head lolled against the window, quill dangling loosely in his fingers. Barty did that a lot, slept in unusual places at unusual times when the quiet dragged on a little too long. Evan mentioned once that Barty struggled to sleep at night, insomnia or something, and even the draughts Madam Pomfry made him only worked sometimes.

Unable to quell your curiosity, you got up to retrieve another book, brushing past him and sparing a glance down at his sketchbook. Your own face stared back at you, framed with rough sketches of your hands, your eyes, the bow of your lips.

Your heart gave a painful lurch, a burst of affection making your bones soften, and you nearly stumbled over the carpet, catching yourself on the bookshelf at the last second.

You hurried down another row, praying none of your friends saw you, and braced yourself against the shelf.

Did Barty like you? Like, actually like you? You couldn't fathom it. It didn't make sense. You weren't kind to him, or outgoing, or special. He was all of those things and more, the most fascinating, maddening, all-consuming person you'd ever met in your life.

Surely, he didn't see all of those things in you? But why would he draw you if he didn't see something of interest? Something he liked?

Fuck, you couldn't breathe in this stuffy library. You needed air.

You steeled yourself and walked back to the table, collecting your things.

“Something wrong, y/n?” Regulus asked, always too perceptive, and Barty stirred, picking his head up from the wall to peer at you through drowsy eyes.

“Nothing, I—”

Barty slid off the window and you lost your train of thought, heat scorching your cheeks. “Rushing off to hang out with your more interesting friends?” Barty asked, his voice a little gruff from his brief nap.

“More interesting friends? Not at Hogwarts,” Evan chuckled. “We're as interesting as it gets.”

“If you're bored, babygirl, all you had to was say so,” Barty hummed, striding up to you.

You placed a hand on his sternum to stop him from coming any closer, ignoring the flare of heat that accompanied the contact. “You were asleep five seconds ago,” you argued.

“Asleep and dreaming of all the ways I could keep you entertained.” He grinned, wicked and sharp, and the simmering heat spread to your lower belly, your heart beating fast.

“What are you, a fucking court jester?” You bit, unable to stop your arm bending as he pushed closer, the smell of ink and his cologne making your mouth water.

“I'm whatever you want me to be,” he flirted, and Regulus and Pandora groaned in unison.

“Will you leave her the fuck alone?” Regulus snapped, tugging Barty back by a belt loop. “She's not interested in your act, Junior.”

“Act?” Barty quirked a brow. “I’m dead serious.”

“Don't talk about his brother that way!” Evan shouted, far too excited to make the over-used joke once again, and you rolled your eyes. Apparently, the rare quiet time had come to an end.

“I don't give a fuck about his brother!”

“I don't give a fuck about you!”

“Oh, so you're a bitch and a liar?”

“I'm not a bitch, you cunt!”

“I'll see you guys at the party later,” you said, using their bickering as your window of escape. You all but fled the library, desperate for some fresh air and clarity.

If Barty sincerely liked you…did that change anything? Was there a way to know for sure how he felt? You didn't even know how you felt, not really. You'd never let yourself really consider it for fear of inevitable disappointment.

Sure, you found him attractive, everyone did. And yes, despite yourself you thought he was funny and sweet, in his own, odd way. And he was especially sweet to you. He never brought your other friends food, or waited for them after class, or snuggled in their beds. Well, besides Evan.

He didn't really touch anyone else either. But if you were close enough, as he often ensured you were, he was touching you whenever he could. Knocked together knees in the Great Hall, leaning on you during class no matter how many times you shoved him off, throwing his arms over your shoulder when it was cold, wrapping his pinky around yours in a particularly crowded hall.

Yes, his words were often obnoxious and bordering on insane, but his actions…his actions were sincere, thoughtful, almost tender.

Was that the real Barty?

Maybe you had been fooled just like everyone else into thinking he was nothing more than a joker, a rowdy troublemaker, when the reality was so much deeper.

Had you been all wrong about him?

By the time you and Pandora left your dorm room to join the party, the common room was a madhouse. Green lights flashed in time with the thumping bass, bodies dancing and mingling in every available spot on the dancefloor, a haze of smoke and glitter over their heads.

You were wearing a black mini dress and heels, held together by string and a prayer. Your hair hung in loose waves down your back, your eyeliner sharp and lips painted. You knew you looked good, lethal in the best way, but all you could think about was Barty's reaction.

Would he like it? Hate it? Or even worse, not even notice?

Together, you and Pandora moved through the crowd towards your friends usual place at the far side of the common room.

Of course, you spotted Barty first. He was leaning against the bar, dressed in all black, tailored trousers and a sleeveless undershirt. Apparently he ditched his actual shirt before you arrived in favor of displaying his countless tattoos, most of them done by his own hand. His hair was dark with pomade and pushed off of his face, glitter clinging to the sweat along his lean chest and shoulders.

He looked like a wet fucking dream.

Xeno let out a low whistle when you and Pandora stepped out from the crowd, drawing Barty's attention from Evan and Dorcas.

His jaw dropped instantly and with a dramatic flourish, he pretended to faint into Evan's arms, clutching at his heart. Despite yourself, you giggled, and Pandora shot you a surprised look through a gap in her boyfriends embrace.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Barty gasped, sliding out of Evan's arms and onto his knees. “Look at—baby, look at you!”

You flushed under the attention, your blood heating as it raced through your veins, but you just rolled your eyes at him, a new confidence blooming in your chest. He loved it.

You strode over to the bar, closing his mouth with a finger, and leaned against the counter. “Firewhisky?” You asked the student bartending, and they stared back at you, dumbstruck, before rushing to collect your drink.

Barty leaned against your legs, his cheek against your thigh. “What are you doing to me?” He whined up at you, feeding into your surge of confidence.

You pushed his head away, tugging at the roots of his hair before releasing him, and he groaned, a low, panty-melting sound. “I'm not doing anything. You're just insufferable,” you chastised, accepting your drink.

“And you're beautiful,” he said, sounding almost reverent, and you nearly choked on your drink.

“Fuck off and drool on someone else, yeah?” You snapped, overwhelmed by his candor, even though it was exactly what you thought you wanted.

Fuck, you didn't know what you wanted. And even when you did, it seemed your subconscious wasn't always in agreement. You had wanted him to drool over you. He was literally on his knees, but some broken part of your brain couldn’t accept it. So you pushed him away.

“C’mon, you simpering mutt,” Evan said, hauling Barty up. “I think I saw a kegger over there.”

Barty started to protest, but Evan and Regulus dragged him away.

“You should have some mercy,” Xeno said, leaning on the bar beside you.

“Oh?” You raised a brow at him, taking a sip of whisky.

“Poor prick is besotted,” Dorcas supplied.

“He's full of shit,” you bit, that panicky feeling crawling up your spine.

Pandora shook her head, and your eyes widened. “It's true, I’ve never seen him so fucked up over someone before.”

“He's not the obsessive type. Not when it comes to dating, at least. He loses interest as often as he changes his underwear. But he's been stuck on you for months,” Dorcas said.

“Yeah, he usually obsesses over like quill tips, and arson—”

“You guys are serious?” You asked, cutting off Xeno. “You think he actually likes me?”

They all stare at you, dumbfounded.

“You can't tell?” Pandora asked, grabbing your face and shaking you. “Babe, he's absolutely gone for you.”

“Like, gone gone,” Dorcas added.

“But it's Barty, I mean—he’s never serious—”

“Exactly, that's what makes it so obvious!” Pandora cried, exasperated. “I thought you knew!”

“Why would you think that!” You shouted back.

“Because he says it constantly!” Your friends yell in unison.

“He was on his knees, y/n. Like literally on his knees,” Xeno said, shaking his head. “It doesn't get much more devoted than that.”

Devoted. It clicked then, the signs you'd been brushing off, refusing to see clearly because of your own veil of distrust. Because you didn’t allow yourself to accept the truth out of fear. Barty had been showing you for months how he felt, and not just in his words, in his actions. Bringing you food when you were hungry, walking you from class to class, meeting your barbs and verbal lashes with a smile.

He’d been wearing his heart on his sleeve this entire time, and all you’d done is punish him for it.

Oh, fuck. How could you be so blind?

You set your drink on the bar and pushed through your friends, ignoring their calls as you forced your way through the crowd, searching for Barty in the sea of green. You found him standing with Evan and few other members of the Quidditch team, cheering while a fifth year shotgunned a dandelion draught.

“Barty!” You shouted over the roar, grabbing his wrist.

He turned, his eyes widening in surprise. “Y/n? Are you alr—where are we going?”

You dragged him into a shadowed alcove, slightly hidden from the party. Your heart was pounding in your ears, tears already burning behind your eyes. “Be honest with me,” you said, forcing yourself to hold his gaze.

“Always,” he said automatically, brow heavy with uncertainty.

“How do you feel about me?” You asked.

Understanding dawned, and Barty's expression melted into something painfully soft, painfully sincere. “I just wanna be yours.”

The admission stole the air from your lungs, made your heart freeze in place. "M-mine?"

“Yours,” he breathed, his hands finding your waist, grip tight as desperation filled his eyes. “Please, let me be yours.” He lowered to his knees again, his head by your navel. “I promise—I promise I’ll be good, if you’ll just give me a chance too—”

You leaned down and grabbed the silver chain around his throat like a collar, dragging his mouth to yours in a fervid, frantic kiss. He surged upwards, lifting you into the air and crushing you between his body and the wall, forcing air out of your lungs. You wrapped your legs around his narrow hips as his tongue pried open your mouth, desperate to taste you. Desire pumped through you, scalding hot and more potent than the whisky, making your head spin, your skin tingle.

You tugged at his hair, drawing him closer, and he whimpered low in his throat. Your cunt clenched at the sound, your thoughts turning singular: make him beg. Your tongue traced his lips, tasting beer and cigarette smoke, and you sucked his lower lip between your teeth, biting hard before soothing it with your tongue.

His hips canted up into your core, his hands moving down to squeeze your ass beneath your dress and grind your core against him. You gasped, breaking the kiss for a moment, and he seized the opportunity to pillage your mouth again, licking at your teeth and the roof of your mouth.

“Your dorm,” you panted, yanking his head back by the roots of his hair.

He didn’t hesitate, throwing you up and over his shoulder in a startling feat of strength.

“Barty!” you squealed, giggling and slapping at his back while he carried you to the stairs, his hand keeping your dress in place so you didn’t flash anyone. He couldn’t have made it any more obvious what was happening, and you found that you didn’t care. If you were going to be with Barty, you were going to have to get used to being loved out loud.

“Look at her ass again, see what happens!” You heard him bark, his voice a rumble through his ribcage, and you rolled your eyes, smiling to yourself as he carried you up the stairs.

A moment later, you were being tossed roughly onto his bed, the door slamming shut with a muttered alohomora. Barty crawled up your body, his dark eyes flashing with a feral hunger that made your pussy purr, and he dove into your neck with his teeth and tongue, making you gasp and arch into his body, your whole body alight with pleasure.

“Easy, baby,” you cooed, petting his hair to try and settle his frantic affection. Poor thing couldn’t seem to control himself, so worked up he was rutting against your thigh. “I’m not going anywhere, darling, relax.”

He whined into your neck, clutching at the fat of your lovehandles. “Need you so bad,” he groaned. “M’sorry, can’t help myself.”

You rolled over him, straddling his hips with yours. “I know, love. Just sit still and be good for me, yeah?”

He nodded vigorously, watching you kiss down his body with heavy-lidded eyes. You pushed up the hem of his undershirt, licking a stripe between the valley of his abdomen muscles, admiring the tattoos you’d only gotten glimpses of.

“So pretty, Bat,” you purred, and felt his cock twitch against your chest, his head falling back against the pillows. “Been wanting me this whole time?”

“Yes, so badly—fuck, treasure, please—” he moaned when you grazed your teeth along his hipbone, sucking the skin into your mouth to leave a mark. His hand tangled in your hair, rings cool against your scalp, and you released his skin with a pop, admiring the plum-colored bruise left behind. “I’m getting that tattooed,” he panted, dragging a thumb over your spit slick lips. “Swear to Salazar.”

You giggled, shifting further down to undo his trousers and finding that he apparently skipped boxers. His cock sprung out to slap against this stomach, rigid and flushed, a bead of pearly precum dripping down to his navel. Gently, you traced a finger over the protruding veins along his shaft, admiring him.

Barty hissed through his teeth, his muscles tensing to keep still.

“Good boy,” you praised, wrapping your hand loosely around him, pumping once, twice without any real pressure. He was long and slightly curved, gorgeous, and you couldn’t resist dragging your tongue up the root of him, feeling the velvety texture against your lips.

“Fucking shit, you’re going to kill me.” His fingers tightened in your hair as you lapped at the head, savoring the salty taste of him.

You looked up at him through your lashes, his head thrown back, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths, every muscle flexed tight. Fighting for his life to hold still.

“Baby,” he whined when you stopped, picking up his head to look down at you.

“Say your mine,” you ordered, hovering just over his cock, holding his wild-eyed gaze.

“I’m yours. I’m so fucking yours.”

You smiled and wrapped your lips around him, swallowing down as much of him as you could manage and he cried out, rough and breathless with relief. You bobbed up and down on his length, tongue pressing against the root of his cock and using your hand to stroke what you couldn’t reach, and you watched his soul leave his body.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he chanted, using your hair to lift and lower you a little faster, his control starting to falter as you pulled him apart. “Bloody hell, you’re way too good at this. What the fuck—oh saints. Your mouth feels like fucking heaven.”

You hummed in response, letting him push you further down, gagging on his length before he released you and you pulled off of him to catch your breath, a trail of drool connecting your lips and his head.

Barty groaned. “Never mind, I’m getting that tattooed. Right on my fucking forehead so every time I look in the mirror—”

You climbed back up his body and draped yourself over him, silencing him with a sloppy kiss, his tongue laving across your lips to taste himself. “Do you ever stop talking?” you teased, kissing the corner of his mouth, his cheekbone, his temple.

In a quick movement, he flipped you beneath him. “There’s one sure-fire way to shut me up,” he purred against your ear before kissing and licking down your neck and chest. Every pass of his lips was electric, a bolt of pleasure straight your weeping pussy, swollen against your panties and desperate for attention. “This dress,” he murmured, tracing the swell of your breast with his tongue. “Wear it for anyone in particular?”

“I wanted to see your reaction,” you admitted, gasping when his big hand came up to knead your tit, fingertips still a little stained from sketching. His rings were harsh against your skin, and you arched into him, relishing in his greedy touch.

“Sent me to my knees, sweetheart. Damn near killed me.” He pulled the top of you dress down, your tits spilling free, and he took one pert nipple into his mouth, lashing it with his tongue while he teased the other with his hand.

You keened, hands flying into his shaggy hair. Every pull of his mouth went straight to your cunt, making your hips buck against his thigh. He shifted to press his leg harder against you, letting you chase your pleasure, and hummed in approval against your chest.

The friction was amazing, buzzy heat spilling under your skin and making you moan and cling tighter to him, trembling with unspent energy. “Fuck, Barty—please.” You weren’t sure what you were begging for, but he seemed to understand you perfectly.

“Say your mine, treasure,” he said, biting at the side of your breast, and you yelped.

“Yes, Barty! All yours! Just please—”

He pushed two fingers into your mouth, silencing you while he shifted down your body. Without warning, he buried his face between your legs, licking and sucking at your pussy through your panties with an eagerness that made your eyes cross, your teeth sink down on his digits.

“So fucking sweet, baby. Melting like sugar f’me.” He yanked your panties down your legs and returned to his feasting, laving his long tongue through you before sucking hard at you clit. He slipped his fingers from your mouth, needing both hands to spread you open for his consumption.

Your mind was wiped clean, erased completely by all-consuming bliss as he practically mauled your pussy, vicious in his pursuit of your pleasure. His tongue fucked into you, the slurping loud and lewd, while he massaged your clit with his thumb. You dug your nails into his sheets, trying to stifle your screams into his pillow.

"So responsive, baby. Ready for more?" He asked, easing his middle finger inside of your clenching channel, curling against the gooey spot behind your pelvic bone that made you melt into the mattress. Adding a second finger, he started nursing your clit again, letting his dexterous artist’s fingers coax you open.

Once you were moaning, loose and languid against the mattress, he ramped back up, working your g-spot like it stole something from him he was hellbent on getting back. He dragged his teeth against your clit, soothing the flare of pain with his tongue, and you felt yourself draw tight, teetering on the edge of oblivion.

“Barty—oh God, I’m going to come—oh fuck, oh fuck!” You lifted almost completely off the bed as your orgasm slammed into you, ripping through sinnew and bone to consume your heart, devour you entirely.

Barty slowed his ministrations, dragging his tongue through your spasming pussy with long, lush licks, his hold tight on your thighs when you started to inch away from him, your body twitching and shaking as you came down from your high.

“That’s my treasure, so fucking gorgeous when you come for me,” he hummed, smiling against your skin, and nuzzled his nose against your clit while he withdrew his fingers, making you jump and whine. “Not so mean now, are you, sweetness?”

You shook your head, trembling and weak, completely boneless beneath him.

"So soft for me, hm?" He dragged you down the bed, throwing one of your calves over his shoulder while he swiped the head of his cock through your messy slit. “Better hold onto something, darling. You've got me at the end of my leash.”

You wrapped your hands around the bars of his headboard and he grinned, a wicked slash across his handsome face.

“Fuck, I knew you were perfect for me.” He notched his cock at your entrance and with a smooth roll of his hips, buried himself to the hilt. You both cried out, the fullness, the stretch more intense than anything you’d felt before. “I was fucking made for you, baby,” he groaned, dragging his hips back before snapping them forward, your pussy fluttering around him.

“Fuck, B, feels so good,” you mewled, rocking your hips to meet his thrust for thrust, the bed creaking loudly beneath you.

He used his hold on your elevated leg to lift your hips off the bed, ratcheting up to a punishing pace, making you scream and thrash on the bed while he fucked you with every ounce of desperation and determination he’d harbored over the last few months. His teeth sunk into your calf, hard enough to send a bolt of pain down your leg and make you cry out, heightening the pleasure radiating from your core until you were teetering on the edge again, every graze of his cockhead against your cervix winding you tighter, higher—

“Shit, baby, I’m gonna come soon,” he grunted, his thrusts growing sloppy, erratic and rough, and you could only nod. “Can feel it, tres. C’mon, babygirl, come with me. Please, need to feel you come around me, m’dying for it, please, please—”

You came with a scream, your vision whiting out as sunlight blazed through you, eviscerating every ounce of tension, trepidation, fear, and leaving you a beacon of light, nothing but giddy, delirious stardust.

“Fuck, yes, that’s it—fuck!” Barty came a heartbeat after you, the swelling and throbbing of his cock as he painted your inside white prolonging your release, wringing every drop of pleasure from you until you both collapsed onto the bed, chests heaving and sticky with sweat, the glitter from his skin decorating yours.

You reached for him, trembling and raw, and he gathered you into his chest, kissing your cheeks and forehead with a dizzying gentleness. “Barty,” you breathed, hands curling against his chest, too overwhelmed with feeling to say anything else.

“I’m yours,” he whispered, cradling your face to bring your gaze to his. “I’m yours.”

You nodded, leaning forward to kiss him, taste him again, letting the warmth of his body, the heavy beat of his heart, ground you in the reality of this moment. Barty was yours, and you were his. And you were safe. He wanted you despite your attitude, your armor, your callousness. He wanted you exactly as you were, more than happy to lay in the shadows with you, or draw you out into his light to dance.

“And I’m yours,” you breathed against his lips, and he smiled.

“I'll be right back,” he murmured, pressing a delicate kiss to your head before flying out of bed and wrenching open the door, his cock barely stuffed back into his pants. “SHE’S FUCKING MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNEEEEEEE!” He screamed down the stairs to the party.

A chorus of cheers rang out, reaching you from the common room. You buried your face into his pillow, laughter bubbling up despite the embarrassment scorching your cheeks.

Barty whirled around, a maniac’s grin on his face, and he dove back into bed, determined to stake his claim as many times as possible before sunrise.

Thank you for reading!

[foxgirlmoth]

Thinking about Coheed and Cambria's Afterman double album again

[brummiereader]

Binding Love (Part One/ Dark!Tommy)

Summary: After a morning of negotiations between lawyers, the day goes wasted when Tommy takes it upon himself to interfere in court proceedings. With your muddled intentions made clear, and your husband's declarations of love forcefully made known, a blazing row erupts between you both in the bustling streets of Birmingham. Will you ever be free from your husband's restraints? Do you even want to be?

Warnings: Dark!Tommy, language, violence, psychological mind games, controlling behaviour, toxic relationship, manipulative behaviour, psychological abuse, mutual pining, angst.

Word Count: 5K

Authors Note: For the purpose of depicting the manipulative behaviour of Tommy in the first part of this chapter, I've taken it upon myself to have radios become a common feature in cars before they were. We'll pick back up from the first scene again in the last chapter. The song playing on the car radio is called "Release Me" by Engelbert Humperdinck.

[Masterlist] [Trailer] [Main Masterlist]

" Please release me, let me go. For I don't love you, anymore..." the sound of your husband's humming voice accompanied by the taunting song and a sharp turn of the cars rumbling wheels on the gritted ground, jolted you from the daze your tired body had drifted into.

"Tommy...Tommy!" you began to frantically cry into the darkness, faced once again with the horrors sleep had dulled for you. A slither of light beaming through a crack in the rear headlights, the salty air of sand and kelp your only comfort to stop your racing heart from plunging you into complete obscurity.

"Tommy please! I'm...I'm sorry! I was scared...you were scaring me!" Your stifled breath wept with desperation as you begged for mercy before panic took over, and you succumbed to the tight enclosure.

Losing track of the countless halting stops, the speeding turns as Tommy's foot pressed down onto the pedal with determination. You had given up on trying to route your husband's destination and fallen into a weary haze of slumber. But with Tommy's clear attempt to awaken you, and bless his lonely thoughts with the beauty of your strangled cries, he had also awoken the searing panic within you once again.

How many hours had it been...fuck, how many hours had it been?! How much air was left?!, your frightened mind scrambled to make sense of the amount of time that had passed through the music loudly confusing any tangible answer you could come to.

" I can't breathe...Oh my god, I...I can't breathe!" your chest heaved in a frenzy, relenting to the alarming situation you had distanced yourself from as your hands searched to ground your body before you let what was left of your sanity slip into the terror your husband was hellbent on inflicting on you.

" Tommy! I...I can't breathe!" your hand flew to your chest as adrenaline coursed through the blood pumping furiously throughout your body. Every muscle reacting in a torturous plea for you to flee the inescapable.

" Maybe you should stop screaming, sweetheart" Tommy's voice rose above the music as a wicked smirk etched on the corner of his curling lips. His arm resting casually on the open window with a lit cigarette perched between his fingers as one would on a leisurely Sunday drive in the country.

" You bastard!" you snapped forgetting yourself, throwing the warranted insult his way as a low chuckle obnoxiously echoed back to you in response.

" And to think I put a cushion in there for you" he teased, if only to spur on the enticing game of cat and mouse he had become the sole player of.

" Don't say I don't do anything nice for you, eh?" a slither of irritation seethed at the end of his tongue for the chaos he blamed you for. For the cascade of selfish decisions you had made he blamed on the day's events.

How could you have done this to him, after all...no. After everything he'd lovingly done for you to keep you away from those that wanted to ruin what you shared.

" I hate you...I fucking hate you! I never loved you Tommy, just like your fucking song! I don't love you! Are you listening?! " your screams continued as you thrashed your limbs against the walls. Desperately trying to garner a reaction out of him as your lungs heaved for the stolen air, panic had snatched from them.

And a reaction you got, but one you'd be thankful to not have witnessed when Tommy shifted in his seat, loosening the collar of his shirt from the restricting pang of anger bobbing in his throat. His jaw clenching into a grating sound of teeth grinding on top of one another as the blue of his eyes eclipsed with a foreboding shade of coal at the lies you had spoken to scorch him. Lies he knew were only said to fool yourself into believing, rather than succumbing to the truth that your doting husband was, and always would be, the only man you would ever love.

You were just...tired. A knock to the head would make anyone confused, Tommy told the distasteful burn that had settled on his chest as the calloused pads of his fingers turned the volume up to drown out any more unwarranted admissions that would have him act out on the sting you had pierced him with.

"I'm warning you, eh? You hear me? One more fucking word Y/N, I dare you!" Tommy's voice loudly ordered with a shuddering tone of control as his eyes narrowed in on the road in front of him. His leather gloves snapping with a crisp creak under his curling fingers as they tightly grasped around the steering wheel. Tethering on the idea of stopping the car to an abrupt halt and dealing with you by hand.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, your trembling bottom lip steadied itself from any further statements you'd be a fool to make as the toying melody lulled your weeping body back into hopelessness. Your eyes drifting to the narrow rays of the sun fading with each passing minute.

Hovering your fingers over the dusting of light, you began to quietly mouth the tormenting lyrics of the song Tommy had chosen to accompany your long drive into the unknown as you let your body sink into itself.

Feeling a strangled cry build in your throat, one last frustrated thrash of your elbow against the side of the car boot had a flash of light searing into the darkness, causing your head to turn from the glaring brightness of the outside world now beaming into your enclosure.

" Shit, shit..." your head turned in a panic to see the back headlight gone, your pent-up hopelessness now your saviour.

Whipping your head back to the sound of your husband's toying lips whistling in tune to the song, your heart pounded rapidly against your chest as you waited for him to acknowledge his taillight skimming across the road. But when no reaction came, you tempted fate and slipped your arm through the open gap, frantically waving your hand in hopes somebody would see.

Hearing the rumbling sound of a car approaching, you pushed your arm further through the shards of glass as you desperately tried to alert its drivers' attention.

" No, no, no..." you cried, pulling away to see the car disappear into the fading sun, hurtling all despair back to you in a strangled muffle of cries.

Readying yourself for the burning sting once again, you pushed your bloody hand back into the sharp teeth of your only escape, forcing it through until your shoulder met the door of your prison one last time.

And that's when you felt it. The lock that had kept you captive for countless hours in the dark.

In for a penny, in for a..., your teeth bit down onto your wobbling bottom lip, dried with a layer of blood from the dripping gash on your forehead.

Steadying your heavy breaths from backing out, you pushed your thumb down onto the chrome button, committing to your escape and the horrors you would face if your husband caught you.

With a subtle click, the door effortlessly popped open as you pulled yourself up with shaky hands, throwing the weight of your body out onto the road without care to any car approaching or injury you'd likely sustain as Tommy's foot slammed on the breaks to a screeching halt.

" Now just where do you think you're going..." Tommy's eyes narrowed, the rolled cylinder of tobacco resting between his plump lips puffing a cloud of smoke with each quiet breathy observation as he flicked the wing mirror with his finger to see the reflection of you scrambling to your feet.

" Help! Somebody!" You screamed in horror as you ran barefoot along the gritted ground. Only a thin slip covering your modesty, Tommy hadn't given you a chance to conceal with his unexpected appearance that morning.

"Shit" Tommy huffed throwing the door open, discarding the burnt cigarette from his mouth as he bolted after your sprinting feet.

" C'mon darling, don't make a scene!" you heard his gravelly voice call after you as you dared to look back to see him chasing towards you with a malicious smile of amusement toying on the corners of his lips.

With no sign of life but the two of you on the long winding road, you took your chances in the bushy hedgerow, heading down the dangerous coastal path with screams of terror as Tommy stayed hot on your heels behind you.

But your frantic escape and pleas for help would go unheard among the thrashing sound of waves, leaving only the echos of the melody coming from Tommy's abandoned car in the middle of the lone country road, and the ticking of its blinkers counting the moments down until he caught you.

"Please release me, let me go. For I don't love you anymore. To waste our lives would be a sin..."

One month earlier...

"Shit, I'm sorry. I don't..I don't have any change" your cheeks reddened with embarrassment as your fingers fumbled with the small, empty purse. Not a single shilling nestled within its velvety padding. Not a single penny to your name.

"My husband wi..." you stopped yourself, feeling a fool to have even referred to him as such, that you were going to rely on him to settle your fare, knowing full well he'd find enjoyment paying on your behalf with the proceedings set to take place in a moment's time.

" S'alright, Mrs Shelby. On the house" the taxi driver nodded to you in the rear mirror with a bushy bearded smile. For he was not foolish enough to follow in suit with your slipping tongue and make the wife of the leader of the Peaky Blinders pay a sum so trivial it could see him costing a finger his profession deemed vital.

" Thank you, Jeffery. But after today I'll no longer be, Mrs Shelby" you stated, opening the car door to a gust of autumn air nipping at your cheeks, your heels stepping onto the cobbled street, that paved your way to the grand building where a judge would decide on your future.

Strutting into the towering structure, you held your head high as your heels loudly echoed along the marble floors. But as you pushed through the heavy court doors, your mustered confidence took a sudden blow when the room turned to face you and the man that would reside over your divorce proceedings, scolded you like a child in front of a class of their peers.

" You're late, Mrs Shelby" he looked past the rims of his glasses as your pace slowed in a desperate attempt to muffle your poor choice of shoes and the unwarranted attention it garnered.

"I'm sorry your honor" you apologised, shamed in front of everyone as you hurried past the set of blue eyes following your every step. His piercing stare roaming over your body from head to toe, to every curve your fitted dress accentuated. His head leaning into your musky perfume filled with notes of amber and vanilla that drifted past him in a gentle greeting as you took your seat next to your solicitor. The intoxicating smell enough to cause a breathy exhale of repressed want from his throat. Tommy.

Feeling the intent stare of your husband boring into your heated cheek, you whipped your head up from the documents between your painted nails to see Tommy leant back in his chair, admiring your choice of outfit from between the men of law that separated you. Why did he have to look at you that way? He was doing it on fucking purpose.

Snapping your eyes away, a screeching sound of a chair scraped along the floor, followed by the heavy footsteps of your husband approaching.

" Darling" he greeted, taking the opportunity to approach you and the tray of refreshments stood feet from your desk as the fumbling Judge lay out your weighty file in front of him with the help of his assistant.

"Tommy" you replied, eyes fixed on the documents in front of you, trying your upmost to shield yourself from the pull of his daily dose of sweet-talking.

Scoffing a chuckle, Tommy raised the glass tumbler of water to his grinning lips. Amused by the cold shoulder you were adamant on giving him.

"Quite the entrance. Was that little show all for me..." You suddenly felt the heat of his body next to you, his distinct cologne of tobacco intertwined with whiskey and soot filling your senses. "...eh?" he perched himself on the edge of your desk as he leant into your ear, his fiery breath sending a ripple of goosebumps down your neck as the beginnings of a cocky smile curled against your skin.

" No" you firmly stated, feeling the remaining surges of embarrassment making laps in your stomach as you raised your eyes to see the smug smirk of enjoyment plastered across his face. Did you do it for him? Were you still seeking his attention, his approval after all this time, after everything that had happened?

" You sure, sweetheart?" his brows knitted together, mischief twinkling in the corners of his creased eyes as his hand reached under the table, roaming under your dress until his fingers met the clasps of your garter and unclipped one.

"Hmm, such a tease" he chuckled to himself, feeling the sting of your hand slapping his fingers away. Toying with your emotions and the agreed boundaries he was unwilling to follow once again.

Whether it be to purposely play with you or sheer refusal to admit he was the one that had pushed you to this point. Tommy didn't care. For your husband would never abide by anyone, let alone follow life's rules that weren't from the beat of his own drum.

" Be seated everyone" the Judge ordered, bringing your racing heart down to a manageable speed as Tommy scooted off the wooden table onto two feet, adjusting his suit before reluctantly playing along to the six-month temper tantrum he believed you was having.

As the dreary morning of papers being sent back and forth between lawyers, of decisions over the custody of your shared child continued. Tommy made it his sole mission to find an issue with every suggestion raised. Addressing only you throughout the entire ordeal as his generously paid lawyer, buried his head in his hands with frustration.

" Mr Shelby" the Judge's voice rose above Tommy's interruptions as he wiped the bead of sweat that had settled on his temple. A huff of defeat in response to the insult that he, a man of his position, couldn't keep his courtroom and its sole troublemaker under control.

" Two Sundays out of the month, Y/N? I won't allow it, understood? Sunday is family time and we'll spend it together, whether you like it or not" Tommy rolled his shoulders, straightening the lapels of his suit jacket as the Judge desperately tried to bring order to the room.

"Why don't we go back home and end this fucking circus, eh? I'll make love to you, we'll take Elsie out for an afternoon with the horses..." Tommy trailed off into a tangent of things he'd rather be doing than sitting in the stuffy room he was currently forced to be in with a wigged man telling him what he could and couldn't do with his family.

"Mr Shelby, I beseech you" the Judge removed his glasses, peering at your husband's lawyer to keep control of his client.

" You really want to do this, eh? To our daughter? Y/N? Y/N?!" the last of Tommy's patience quickly evaporated as you snapped your head away from his bellowing voice to the window beside you, tears spilling over your cheeks.

" Mr Shelby!" The magistrate slammed his hammer down onto its wooden pillow as an exasperated sigh at the tiresome morning loudly left his throat.

Ignoring the resonating boom of the wooden hammer, Tommy rested his arm on the back of his lawyer's chair as he leaned in. Whispering his orders into his ear as his scorching stare stayed fixed on you.

Daring to challenge the piercing pair of eyes burning into you, you raised your head as your husband's lawyer approached the bench with his orders.

Gaze drifting up from his clenched fists, you were met with nothing but anger. Anger at your refusal to bring an end to the whole charade, for your unwillingness to let him back into your martial bed over a paddy he believed would fizzle out within a week's time. How had things gotten to this point? Or more precisely, what had your dear husband done to push you to this point?

" Proceedings are postponed until further notice" the Judge's damning words shocked you out of your husband's hold on your every thought as your eyes darted to your lawyer.

" All rise" the portly guard beside him announced as those present dispersed from the room, leaving you with darting eyes scanning the empty rows of chairs until they settled on Tommy, and the satisfied smirk he was maliciously sending your way.

"What did you do? Tommy! What did you do?!" you shouted, storming over to him as he rose from his seat. Unbothered by your fit of rage and the role he played in its sudden appearance.

"You're so angry all the time, darling" he replied, dismissing your questions as his hands snaked over your waist, playfully pouting down at your widening eyes as if the entire ordeal was nothing but a small spat between a married couple.

"You might wanna get that checked love, can't be good for you, now can it?" He continued to rile you up after getting his way as you pushed him off you, feeling fooled by your lawyers guarantee that not even your husband could bring a halt to court proceedings after the lengthy battle you had already fought to get this point.

Tears settling between your lashes, you shook your head in disbelief at another delay to your freedom as you ran from the courtroom and your husband calling your name.

" Y/N!" Tommy's voice bellowed into the chilly blue sky as he followed after your hurried steps down to the bustling main road of Birmingham's town center.

"Hey!" He grabbed hold of your hips, spinning you around to face him and the tears streaming down your reddened cheeks.

"Hey..." he hushed your cries as you clutched your arms around your body from the bitter breeze of winter slowly rolling in.

"Here" he pulled his black overcoat from his shoulders, wrapping it around your trembling body, you shrugged off the moment it's warmth enveloped you.

No matter what he did, you wouldn't let him in. Why wouldn't you fucking let him back in?!, Tommy thought to himself, throwing his coat on the hood of his car. Oblivious or rather, ignorant to how he had toyed with you moments earlier.

" Why are you doing this, Tommy? We agreed to this. You agreed to this!" a sigh of defeat had your head turning in frustration to the cobbled ground below you. A stream of tears following in tow.

"Forced my hand more like" his huffy response snapped back as he fished in his suit jacket for a cigarette.

Eyes cast down, Tommy's stare darted between your tear-ridden cheeks and the morning dash of men and women hurrying to their places of work as you both stood in silence.

"Hey, look at me" he cupped your chin, turning your head to face him as he shuffled from foot to foot with a breathy exhale. "We'll deal with this in private, alright?" his brows raised, only to be welcomed with your rolling eyes of skepticism on what the word private actually meant to your husband whose idea of a fair deal was only if he was the one making all the deciding factors.

"Y/N?" he waited on your answer, softly brushing a lock of hair from your cheek when his eyes caught the sight of a police car sat guzzling gas on the opposite side of the road, and the prick inside he'd learnt had been hounding you for months on the whereabouts of his colleague.

Jaw tightening, Tommy watched as the detective gave a two-finger salute before turning the wheels of his car into the road and driving off with a pleased smirk. A clear provocation to rile up the notorious gangster on a day he knew Tommy's reputable temper could see him snap given the right push, in the right direction.

" Y/N?" his attention flew back to you as he cupped your cheeks in his hands. " I don't want this" he held your gaze as the end of his cigarette sizzled inches from your cold cheeks.

" I love you" his stare intensified as he wet his lips, his hands reinforcing his words with a stern shake to your face. " I can't lose you. If you want me to change...fuck, I'll change, alright?"

" For god's sake Tommy, that's not...not what I want from you" You felt a surge of disappointment plummet to the bottom of your stomach at the empty promises you had heard countless times before. Hoping that for once, just once, he'd say something that could reassure you enough to put a stop to the yearning you had to reconcile without a shit load of regret following shortly after it.

"I was just keeping you safe, darling" his hands dropped to your arms, tenderly rubbing them within his palms.

" Is that what you want me to do? Pull back my men? Is that what this is all about, eh?" He continued with his refusal to acknowledge the lengths he'd gone to keep control over every waking moment of your day.

" You've given up on us, haven't you?" Tommy huffed at your silence and the reaction it had on his grating need to have your undivided attention at all times.

"Just know this is all on you, eh? Our daughters' parent's separated because of you. Great fucking example you're showing her, darling. Well done" Tommy shook his head, viscously switching his mood back to his bitter brooding over your lack of response, and the expected answer you were unwilling to give.

Your silence being enough to make clear where you stood on the matter, you turned to leave as his hurtful words settled in your chest. Burrowing down to your heart, to the pang of guilt you felt for the stress you was putting your six-year-old daughter through.

"Where are you going?" He stopped you from taking another step as he grabbed hold of your arm.

" Into town" you attempted to shrug off his grip as you watched the barrage of questions form behind his eyes.

" You need some money?" He slipped his burning cigarette between his lips as he pulled out a bundle of cash, flicking through the notes.

" No" you huffed, folding your arms away from him as a wave of embarrassment that you didn't have the money for a taxi fare, let alone a trip into town without your husband giving you your weekly pocket money, scorched you with humiliation.

" Why not?" Tommy's brow furrowed as he threw his cigarette to the ground. " Y/N, why not?" His question turned into an urgent demand to know what had you needing to walk into the city for something he could get one of his men to fetch for you.

Fuck sake, you sighed to yourself, feeling the familiar tone of interrogation seeping though his questions. You just wanted space, space away from the house you still found yourself sharing with him, from the constant reminder of happy memories spent together, from him, from him and his fucking need to know your whereabouts every hour of every second of the day.

"You have someone else paying for this outing into town, is that why you don't need my money, eh? Tommy's paranoia started to turn it's ugly head into an onslaught of never-ending questions.

"Going on another fucking date, hm? Like you did with that pig" his grip tightened, releasing his pent-up anger out on your reddening arms as he glared at you with eyes burning with enough fury to heat your face.

" It's was a friendly dinner..." You sighed with frustration at his inability to stop himself before he pushed you further away with words intended to hurt.

" You meeting someone, Y/N? You fucking somebody, eh?" His voice rose, letting go of the little self-restraint he still possessed as he abruptly pulled you into his body.

" Why you doing this to me, hm?" His voice suddenly softened into desperate pleas anyone would think was an end to his anger. But his tight hold on your body as his cheek pressed against yours, the sound of his gritted teeth grinding together against your ear, enough to tell you otherwise that his fury was seconds away from bubbling over.

" Tommy stop...enough!" You managed to push him away as you turned to leave, refusing to withstand another second of the man that had replaced your once doting husband.

" You won't get rid of me that easily, darling! I won't let it happen!" His voice bellowed into the soot filled air, garnering the attention of those within ear shot. "You marry a Shelby, you stay married! You hear me?! You stay, fucking married!"

" Fuck!" His hands slammed against the door of his car as his lawyer nervously approached, announcing his presence with the clearing of his throat.

" What?!" Tommy's head snapped back to the fumbling man with a file of papers requiring his attention.

" See that those get lost" Tommy's demeanor quickly simmered, keeping the only document that held any interest before piling the rest into the arms of his lawyer.

Sinking into the driver's seat, his true intentions, written in the words of his solicitor, found their way into the glove box as one of his men slid into the passenger's side.

" What's the plan boss?'" the peaked soldier questioned, his voice drowning out into a distant muffle of unintelligible words as Tommy's eyes followed you walking along the cobbled path. His fingers hovering over the ignition, ready to leave when you turned back to look at him with locks of hair dancing in front of your eyes, cheeks rosy red from the chill that had settled over the foggy city. The sight twisting an unbearable urge within him to have you walk back to him, to have you back in his arms.

Were you coming back to him?, Tommy waited, a breath of anticipation catching in his throat as you stood from afar before the ends of your dress turned with a gust of wind, pushing you around the corner out of sight.

" Boss?" The peaky asked, waiting for his orders as his hand rested on the handle of the door.

" Follow her"

" Fuck..." you stifled the steady flow of tears trickling down your cheeks as you darted into a narrow bricked path behind a row of shops. A face as famous as yours was, and would always be a topic of conversation, even more so with a set of tears covering it.

How had it come to this? Was it after the birth of your daughter? No, no, before then? When you was dating?", you plagued yourself with the same frequency of questions your husband tired you with.

No matter how many questions your weary thoughts tormented you with, the truth was, you couldn't pinpoint when your marriage fell apart. It had happened slowly, small changes gone unnoticed. And then, in true Tommy fashion, accelerated to a point where the ignored had become glaringly obvious.

Yet still, wrenching pangs of yearning had you feeling like you couldn't live without him as long sleepless nights dragged on. The heat of his body absent from under the sheets of your martial bed. He was all you had ever known. And he knew it. He knew it.

"You'll pay privy to his crimes when I finally get him, Mrs Shelby. You and your daughter" a voice snatched you from the beckoning memories of your husband's arm wrapped tightly around your waist.

" Leave me alone" your eyes snapped up as you blinked your tears away, pulling yourself from the detective that had tracked you down for a second time that week.

" You're making a mistake" he caught your arm, forcing you to face his insistent inquiries into your husband.

"For the last time, I don't know anything. Now let me go" you echoed the countless responses you had already given.

One dinner had landed you not only at the brunt end of Tommy's raging anger, that you had dared to entertain someone of the opposite sex that was neither blood nor bound to you by marriage, but the watchful eye of your date's colleague, adamant on finding what he believed would be his partner's dead body, murdered at the hands of your husband after a fit of jealousy.

" I can offer you protection, away from him. All you have to do..." He slipped his details into your hand before you abruptly put an end to his concerns for your safety.

" I said, leave me alone" you pulled his hand off you, tired of being man-handled, of being expected to appease every living fucking creature of the opposite sex.

"You'll be next, Mrs Shelby. Mark my words!" He shouted to you as you drifted back into the bustling streets, his words leaving a harrowing sense of dread tightening around your throat as you shoved his card within the warmth of your pocket.

" Tommy doesn't share his toys!" The last of his warnings rang back to you as you leaned against a lonely lamp post, steadying the weight of your body against its metal frame when the world you were trying to flee from appeared in the corner of your eyes in the form of a peaked cap soldier watching from afar.

In sickness and in health, until death do us part. Would you ever be free from the binding love that had chained you together? Or would fate echo the words of your shared vows spoken on your wedding day?

Next Part

Tag list: @peakyswritings @justrainandcoffee @garrison-girl-08 @meadows5 @lavender-haze-01

@strangeobsessed @ttae-yong @lemonwithstupidity @lindsay00000 @mischievouslittlecreature

@jbrownta @lau219

[sugarlywhispers]

a.n; SMUT, oral sex (fem receiving), izuku is pussy-drunk because we know no other izuku than the one who LOVES eating pussy. lol i had an izuku itch that needed to be scratched so here it is *wink wink*<3

You and Midoriya Izuku have been friends for a long time now. He's such a good friend, always attentive, kind, funny and respectful. Yet he becomes cheeky, flirty and sometimes sarcastic when there's more trust in your friendship.

Friendship. It's just friendship. You have to remind yourself of that everyday. Push your stupid little –strenuously huge– crush on him very deep inside and lock it away. He's fucking Number One, Pro Hero Deku. How could you not have a fucking crush on him?

Still, when he gave you the opportunity to be friends, you didn't doubt it. You dug your feelings very deep and just accepted what he gave you; a funny, sincere friendship that you honestly didn't want to ruin. Especially because Izuku was also very intentional in watering this friendship with you.

It got to a point where you even slept in each other's places with complete normalcy sometimes. He had clothes in your closet for when that happened, and vice-versa. Izuku even talked to you about the dates he went on, and so did you.

He even held your head after a hard night out with friends, where you found the guy you were in a “relationship” with snogging another girl. Too much alcohol trying to bury what you have witnessed and an ugly date with the toilet as you threw up. Izuku held your hair back and caressed your back with patience and care that early morning. Even dried your tears and hugged you through the feelings. No, you didn't love the guy, but you could have if he hadn't been a fucker.

No one would ever fit into the standard Izuku had made you build around men. But you had to try and find, considering that the main standard was not interested in you that way, and would never be.

It's exactly why, here you are. Waiting in your car after texting said man “oi!, i'm here!”, after he expressed that he has had an awful week and was so stressed he could throw a train towards the sky, up to the atmosphere. Holy fuck. The imagery made you laugh at the moment, but also sent a shiver down your spine at his tone because damn, he was so frustrated and angry. So, you didn't doubt it. Told him to get ready, that you would pick him up in 20 minutes to take him out.

There was no other intention other than pamper him, help him distract his mind from all the troubles that stressed him. Like a friend would.

It had been a lovely night, filled with lots of laughter, jokes and accomplished smiles that felt too normal by then.

You suddenly feel his eyes on you, his body directing his attention towards you as you ride the car, softly mumbling to a well known song that it's playing.

“What?” You ask a moment later, stopping right in front of Izuku's building and looking back at him.

“I just realized… You took me out to dinner. We had ice-cream as dessert and even some cocktails after. You drove and paid for it all. And now you took me back home…”

You snort, “And? What's the problem with that?”

You are a bit confused, especially because he's talking looking dead serious, like he has come to a realization that makes him even imagine in his head whatever it is that he is thinking. Jesus, even his eyes look so determined and shiny it makes you feel weirdly nervous.

But of course, you were not expecting at all what he said next.

“Do I have to suck you off?”

You look directly into each other's eyes for a full minute. Death silent. Song playing in the background. A car passes, its light making Izuku's face become clearer and exposed for the second it took until it drove away. Both your breathing suddenly heard loud inside your car. 

And then you both laugh your hearts out. Almost to the point of crying.

It's so ridiculously funny. The way Izuku asked it was so sure and ready for it and also keeping a serious tone. This type of humor with him has become so funny and comfortable to portray, you can't help but to answer back, “I mean… if you want to.”

You obviously mean it as a joke. It's not the first time you joke with double meaning in your words. It has become normal by now between you two.

Yet Izuku suddenly stops laughing. Again looking dead serious as you slowly come back from your laughter. You clean a small tear that threatens to fall from your left eye as you look at him. His expression is... alert, attentive; eyes are on you, shining, waiting, excited. And as time passes, you realize with a quiet and small gasp; he wants to suck you off.

Next thing you know, you’re sprawled over Izuku’s big and expensive couch, your jeans and panties thrown around somewhere in his living room. Legs open, exposed, as Izukus delves into the taste of your cunt. Both his hands, callous and a bit raspy due to his injuries and in contrast to your soft skin, hold you down by the waist as his mouth doesn’t even separate a millimeter from its place, tongue dancing all around your very wet pussy. 

His eyes are closed and he lets a few grunts here and there that travel up in your body and make you shiver in pleasure, followed by a tongue movement that makes you roll your eyes back. He's fucking enjoying having you like this.

Finally.

[sorrowsofsilence]

liminal • n.s

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x fem!reader (oneshot)

Words: 7.5k

Warnings: Angst, Part Smut 18+ (fem!receiving), mean!noah, fixing(ish) an unhealthy relationship, alcohol / cigarettes

Prompt: he hates you. yet, he hates that he’s so obsessed with you.

Authors note: This is something I slowly worked on throughout my Taiwan practicum. I had planned for a hot sexy one-shot and instead, it turned out like this lmao (I think, despite how much fun I had, I was feeling angsty and sad) sooooo, here's this. Not my finest work IMO but it is something, to get the writing brain sparked again :-:

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THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

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Noah’s eyes narrowed, dark brown slits fixated on the smile planted on your face as the stranger next to you leaned into your ear.

You let out a laugh that echoed across the room, causing the brunette to become even more irritated. He leaned against the wall, refusing to look away from you.

He furrowed his brows as he placed a cigarette between his lips and took a drag, inhaling the smoke with a grimace, and a hand suddenly clapped him on the back, causing him to double over and cough.

Annoyed, he turned to see Folio with a drunken smile on his face like a jester, "You know, for someone who claims to despise her, you sure do stare at her a lot."

Noah let out a bitter laugh at his friend's comment, only briefly glancing at the drummer before returning his attention to you.

As you laughed again and leaned closer to the stranger, tilting your head with interest, Noah felt sick.

"Fuck off," he spat, taking another drag of his cigarette.

Folio chuckled beside him and swayed unsteadily, "I'm just saying, your actions show otherwise."

Noah scoffed and blew smoke through his teeth as he shook his head, "I want nothing to do with her. She's annoying." But deep down, he knew it was a lie.

In reality, he was obsessed with you. Every thought in his mind was consumed by thoughts of you. The coffee he had this morning? Your favorite kind. The movie he watched on the bus? One you had mentioned loving before. The song he couldn't stop listening to? The one that was playing when you two first met, over a year ago now.

Yet despite all this, you never showed any interest in him. In fact, you seemed to avoid him whenever possible.

And he knew he was the reason why.

Pulling his gaze from you, he flicked the cigarette away and tried to focus on the grungy bar wall before him- anything but your laughter. He hated the way it echoed through his mind, drowning out everything else around him. He hated how his heart stuttered when the sound reached his ears.

"You're pathetic, Noah," Folio slurred beside him, leaning heavily against the wall. He held an empty beer bottle loosely in his hand.

This comment should have provoked anger like most of Folio's words did, but he knew it was true.

“She’s done nothing to you, yet you treat her like shit.”

The brunette laughed bitterly, exhaling a plume of smoke before tossing the cigarette into the ashtray.

"Did I ask for your input, Folio?" Noah retorted, his voice laced with poisonous acidity, "No, I don't believe I did."

Pushing off the wall, he sidestepped Folio's swaying attempt to stop him and marched towards the bar in a few determined strides.

"Noah!" Folio called after him in a drunken daze, but Noah ignored him, instead focusing on blocking out the laughter ringing through the room.

And yet, even as he reached the bar and leaned against it, ordering another drink with an irritated grunt, Noah couldn't stop himself from darting one more glance in your direction. You were still chatting and laughing as if there weren't a care in the world.

Swirling the drink in hand, an acidic taste of bitter resentment washed over him as he gulped. He slammed back shots after shots, each stinging swallow seemed to fade away into insignificance when compared to the pain of seeing you so carefree and unattainable.

As his vision began to blur around the edges and his sense of balance teetered on the edge, Noah lost count.

He felt the familiar sting of alcohol in his throat and welcomed it, hoping that every shot he took would help him forget—but every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face. He was stuck in an endless loop of self-loathing, alcohol, and you.

Noah’s hand trembled as he raised the shot glass for yet another round; the liquid sploshed over the rim, dribbling down his fist - it was the first sign of his escalating intoxication. He squinted at the mirrored wall before him, trying to form coherent words to order yet another round.

Then, he saw you or rather, your reflection. You had abandoned your comfortable spot next to the stranger and were now making your way towards him, pushing through the clusters of bodies in a determined fashion. Panic boiled with the alcohol in his veins. He quickly turned away from the mirror, pretending to study something at the end of the bar.

"Noah,” you stopped right beside him, and for a moment he thought he could smell you amidst the stench of alcohol, body sweat, and stale smoke. Your perfume was a faint note wafting through it all - a sweet scent that clashed with his surroundings and hurtled him even further into his spiral of self-loathing.

He didn't turn to face you, but he could sense your uneasy presence.

"Noah," you began again, this time softer, feeling the hostile coldness radiating from him.

"You’re drunk," you stated matter-of-factly, reaching out and pulling the shot glass from his alcohol-slicked hand. Overhead music thumped against his eardrums and he swallowed roughly, his jaw clenching as he finally turned to face you. Your expression was softer than he anticipated; sympathy and worry replacing the joy-filled laughter that had resonated within each corner of the bar minutes before.

"You don’t know what you’re talking about," He retorted bitterly, veering his attention away from your accusing gaze and towards his empty shot glass instead. He moved forward to reach for it once more but you were quicker, sliding the glass out of his reach and signalling to the bartender.

"No more for him tonight," you instructed, your voice steady but he could detect an underlying note of concern as your gaze alternated between him and the burly man behind the bar.

"Mind your own fucking business," he seethed, feeling a pang of anger ricocheting off his skull. Swiping his arm across the counter, Noah managed to snag another shot glass filled to the brim before throwing it back and wincing at the harsh liquid burning down his throat.

He could feel your disapproving stare on him; it was both satisfying and infuriating.

"Noah…" Your voice was pleading now. It was so unlike you, so gentle and empathetic that he nearly choked on his anguish.

"Didn’t you hear me?" He chastised bitterly, slamming the empty glass onto the counter, "Or are you just as deaf as you are ignorant?"

You winced, quickly replacing the dejection with a scowl. Yet, instead of responding, you merely sighed and reached into your pocket, pulling out a small wad of cash and tossing it onto the counter. Without another word, you grabbed his arm, your grip surprisingly firm in comparison to your soft voice.

He didn't resist you as you dragged him away from the bar and through the throng of loud, drunken patrons.

The cool outside air hit him when you pushed open the exit door, clearing his foggy mind a little. He pulled his arm from your grip and staggered away, leaning against the brick wall for support.

"Why do you care?" he spat angrily, turning his bleary gaze to you. Your eyes held that same softness he had seen at the bar, now accompanied by a sad frown.

He scowled, disgusted by the fabricated pity radiating off you.

"I don't," You replied in annoyance, before letting out a soft sigh, "I just couldn't stand watching you become another wasted drunk in that bar. And your photoshoots tomorrow so you’ll look like shit if you don’t stop.”

"It's my life, isn't it?" He spat back, his words slurred and barely intelligible.

He pushed away from the wall, trying to reestablish some distance between the two of you, “I don’t need you acting as my manager. I pay Matt for a reason.”

“It is your life,” You conceded, straightening up to your full height, “But as your photographer, I’m looking out for you.”

“Just as my photographer, huh?”

He echoed your words in a low voice, with cold mockery. But deep down, they stung. The silence that stretched between you two was filled with the noises of the city: far-off laughter, screeching tires, and the hollow echo of a lonely siren. He pushed his tangled locks out of his eyes and stared at you, a challenge in his gaze.

For a moment your eyes wavered, flickering over to him as if you were about to say something more. But you quickly turned away and gave a vague nod.

"Just as your photographer, Noah," you confirmed, your voice steady but he could see that your lips tightened.

His heart roared its protest but he gave you a dismissive wave.

“Fantastic,” he spat back with as much sarcasm he could muster, "Don't push yourself too hard for my sake."

"I won't," you shot back, shrugging off his bitterness as easily as if it were an old jacket. You turned away then, leaving him to stew in silence under the harsh glare of the streetlamp.

He watched your retreating figure with a burning intensity, all his regret and anger pooling into a bitter pit in his stomach. As he saw you disappear round the corner, he felt a pang of longing. Regret.

For once, he wished for you to look back, or better - to stay. But you didn't.

You never did.

Feeling a chill settling on him, Noah slid down onto the grimy pavement, pulling out the pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He lit one up slowly as if taking his time would somehow delay the sting of reality. The smoke curled upwards, disappearing into the cool night air — ephemeral, just like what was left of his dignity.

With a heavy sigh, Noah pulled the cigarette from his lips, gazing at the glowing ember as if it held the answers to his misery. Each puff was a silent, disgusting prayer vibrating out into the universe, swallowed up by the sky that never listened to his pleas.

Suddenly, he started laughing—a low, humourless sound that resonated off the empty street. How pathetic was he, hoping for answers in a goddamn cigarette ember?

The night was quiet, unresponsive to his breakdown. It was as cold and uncaring as he always thought you were, as indifferent as you proved yourself tonight.

As distant as the love he craved but never found reciprocated—that was how he felt about you.

But then footsteps echoed off the brick, getting closer and closer to him.

And suddenly you were there, clutching onto Noah’s jacket with a firm grip.

"Forgot your damn jacket, asshole," you muttered irritably, flinging the piece of clothing at him.

His reflexes weren't quick enough, so instead of catching the jacket, it ended up draped across his lap. In the silence that stretched, he thought he saw a flicker of hesitation in your eyes...or maybe it was pity.

He took another drag of the cigarette, then spat onto the ground before flicking the remaining butt onto the concrete.

"If you hate the taste, why do you keep smoking?"

"Why do you keep asking pointless fucking questions?" Noah snapped back, giving you a piercing stare.

“Why are you always such a fucking asshole?” You sighed, brows furrowing in anger. You knew now was not the time to ask questions but the word vomit spewed forth anyways.

"Maybe because you're always so fucking annoying," Noah countered venomously, his words carrying a warning of a fit of anger quick to unravel.

"Stop avoiding the question!" You exclaimed, looking frustrated, “You’ve been acting this way since we met! I’m sick and fucking tired of being treated like complete shit by you.”

"Great," He replied sarcastically, forcing himself to his feet, "Quit then. I didn't ask you to stick around."

The finality of his words echoed in the silence between them. They stung like hell, tearing through the icy air and hitting you like a train. There was no room for negotiation; it was a clear ultimatum.

"I…" You started, your voice barely even a whisper. The hurt was evident on your face but you quickly masked it with a hardened exterior.

“Maybe I will,” You shot back, meeting his gaze head-on.

You took a step back, distancing yourself from him. A wave of vulnerability washed over you but you kept your stance firm and determined, refusing to allow him to see your weakness. The dimly lit street blurred your vision, painting Noah inside thick shadows. But there in the gloom, you could still make out that cocky grin he always wore when he got under your skin.

"So quit!" he retorted with a shrug, crossing his arms over his chest.

His nonchalance hung in the air between you like a brutal slap to your face.

You tugged at your sleeves nervously and took one last look at him. The cold street light painted harsh shadows onto his callous features; the skin under his eyes looked darker than usual. For a moment, despite all his bravado and cruelty, you almost felt sorry for him.

"Fine," You finally uttered, each word like poison on your tongue. The venom in your voice surprised even yourself, but there was no turning back now, "I'm done. Fuck you, Noah."

Then you turned, just like before and walked away.

Only this time, something in Noah cracked. A stark realization that felt like an invisible punch straight to his gut - he was the only one responsible for pushing you away.

"No," He murmured hesitantly at first, watching your retreating as every step you took sent a flare of panic through his system.

"No!" This time his voice resonated through the empty street. The echo bounced off the barren walls as if mocking him in his misery. He stood up, chest heaving in drunken contemplation.

"No!" He shouted again, racing off after you through the maze of alleyways. The cool night air bit at his face, tugging at his hair and clothes in a desperate attempt to slow him down.

He didn't know why it mattered now. Why, when he'd already pushed you far beyond your limits, and vilified himself beyond redemption, he still felt a desperate need to make things right.

Or maybe, Noah realized as he sprinted full tilt towards the receding echo of your footsteps, it was because, despite everything, he cared. He cared more than he'd allowed himself to admit.

"Wait!" He shouted out hoarsely, pumping his legs as fast as they would carry him until finally, your silhouette came into view once more. You froze mid-step as if contemplating turning around or keep walking.

Seeing you hesitate gave him that glimmer of hope which fuelled his final sprint till he was standing in front of you, panting heavily from the exertion. His sharp eyes studied your figure in the dim lighting of a distant street lamp, his gaze intense and desperate.

“You were supposed to keep walking,” Noah rasped out after he managed to collect enough breath, his mind fighting his body as he stepped closer toward you.

“Why?” you asked, crossing your arms defensively across your chest, stepping backwards.

“Because…” His voice trailed off as he struggled to put his chaotic feelings into words. He looked away for a moment, gathering himself.

When he finally met your gaze again, there was an uncharacteristic vulnerability that had crept into his voice, “Because I can’t keep pushing you away.”

You blinked at him, processing his words. There was a long stretch of silence between you two as the cool nocturnal breeze gently rustled.

“And why is that? You’d have trouble sleeping at night without someone to torment?” The sarcasm in your voice was thick, but it hinted at something more - a sliver of hurt seeping through the cracks of your anger.

Noah shook his head, running a hand through his tangled hair, "You don’t get it, do you?" He growled, frustration edging into his voice.

"Get what?" You shot back, your gaze unwavering.

Noah shouted before turning away from you, pacing a couple of steps back and forth, “I just can’t stand the thought of you not being here. I need you.”

That revelation hung heavy in the air, wrapping around the both of you like a shroud. He needed you. After all that was said and done, that was his bare truth. His earlier bravado was nowhere to be found, just raw honesty.

You stared at him – really stared at him – for the first time in what felt like an eternity, taking in the sight of Noah: unkempt, haggard and vulnerable. It wasn't a sight you were used to seeing and it unsettled you.

"You need me," The words seemed absurd as they fell from your lips, incredulous.

A bitter laugh rose to your throat but died before it could pass your lips, "If you need me, you've got a fucked-up way of showing it."

"I told you," Noah snapped, agitation seeping into his tone, "I'm an asshole."

"An asshole that 'needs me'," you retorted with a roll of your eyes, “You’re messing with me.”

"No," Noah insisted, his gaze levelling with yours, "I'm not messing with you."

A moment's silence intercepted as he let the gravity of his admission sink in. The air between you was tense and fraught with a slew of complex emotions – shared longing, regret and frustration.

"Do you even understand what you're saying?" Your words echoed through the bare passageways, shattering the very core of silence lurking around them.

"I think so," he admitted hesitantly, "Believe it or not, I do."

"You 'think so'?" You repeated, frustration evident in your tone.

"No. Actually," Noah corrected himself, taking an unsteady step towards you; an abrupt hesitation weighing down his tangled words.

His eyes were pleading now, "I know so."

The sincerity in his voice took you by surprise; you squinted at him through the semi-darkness.

“You’ve treated me like absolute shit since we’ve met Noah. One year of you being rude, selfish, and just straight-up mean! And why? All because you want me?” You tried not to laugh, shaking your head as if to dismiss this absurd idea.

But why did your stomach flutter

"I don't get it either," Noah responded sharply, completely off balance with the turmoil of the conversation. He ran a hand through his hair once more, "I can't explain half the shit I do or say to you.”

You crossed your arms again as if shielding yourself from his words. But when you spoke, your voice was surprisingly soft and devoid of its usual flippant defence, "Then maybe you should try harder."

A silence fell between you two again, ringing loudly in your ears. You stared at each other for a while, a silent battleground where words were weapons and silence was an uncertain truce.

Slowly, hesitantly, Noah took a step toward you. His dark eyes bore into yours, the moonlight reflecting off them with an almost eerie intensity. For a moment, in that silent exchange, you saw him stripped of all his defences, vulnerable and bare.

“Yeah. I will try harder. Because the truth is, you drive me fucking nuts,” He whispered, standing inches from you now. His breath brushed your forehead as you stared up at him, hands hesitant to push against his chest.

But you did just that, feeling his racing heart beneath the cloth.

"You have consumed my mind. And there's nothing I can do about it. Even if I wanted to," Noah went on, his voice cracking with the brutal honesty of his confession.

Your eyes flitted up to meet- the sinking October sea radiant in the dark. “You do a brilliant job at hiding it,” you said, the venom in your words tainted by doubt.

Noah laughed again, but there was no mirth in his eyes; only a raw, shared pain and understanding that transcended your mutual resentment.

“I suppose,” he said, taking another step closer as you involuntarily stepped back against the cold brick. Your hands still pushed against his chest but faltered as he stepped closer, holding you against the wall.

Inexorably drawn to you despite your resistance – or perhaps because of it – Noah found himself looming over you, one arm braced against the wall next to your head boxing you in. The immediate proximity made every breath you drew quiver.

"Let me go," you warned, your eyes brimming with defiance and a hint of fear, your hands pushing him away without conviction. But Noah didn't move. He just hung there, inches away from you, a look of palpable desperation on his face.

"I can't..." Noah whispered, sounding more to himself than to you. His gaze flickered to your lips for a fleeting moment before locking with your startled eyes once more. It was in this moment that you saw him - truly saw him for the first time.

Behind the hostile exterior was a man who grappled with complexities just as you did. His struggle was reflected in his piercing gaze – both harshly real and terrifyingly vulnerable at the same time.

"Coward," you spat, voice trembling along with your heart. His stubborn refusal to move stirred a maelstrom inside of you. But even as the word floated between the two of you, your hands had stilled on his chest and somewhat relaxed, betraying your seemingly confident exterior.

"Maybe," he admitted, his gaze remaining deeply locked with yours. His hand came up, fingers brushing against your cheek in an unnerving tenderness that felt almost alien coming from him, "Or maybe I'm just scared."

"Scared of what?" You scoffed, trying - and failing - to keep the quiver out of your voice.

"Of losing you," He whispered honestly, dropping the hard shell built around him. The rawness in his tone was enough to catalyze the slow crumbling of walls around both your hearts.

His confession hung between you.

"You've never had me to begin with," you managed to retort eventually, your voice barely audible.

"And that is what scares me," Noah's response was immediate and sincere, "If I push you away first, you can’t hurt me."

"Your logic is flawed, Noah," you snorted, although the harshness lacked the conviction needed to drive him away.

Noah winced as if your words had physically struck him, "Isn't it?" he mockingly retorted, but his levity was inadequate to mask the vulnerability seeping through.

"You have no guarantee that I would hurt you," you countered stubbornly, "And even if I did..." you paused, suddenly uncertain. The idea that you could cause him pain was oddly upsetting.

"And even if you did?" Noah prodded gently.

"You'd survive," you finished reluctantly. Your gaze dropped from his face, focusing at some abstract point on his broad chest.

“It’s not about surviving. It’s about not understanding why it’s you that I want so badly. I don’t know how to handle this... intensity. I have never felt this way for anyone else before," His voice was barely audible, echoing the vulnerable tremor that had crept into his tone.

A moment of silence ensued as you absorbed the gravity of his confession. Noah's gaze remained locked on your face, watching as emotions flickered like ephemeral flames in your wide eyes. Somewhere between disbelief, anger and overwhelming sadness, you drowned in a frustration tinged with regret.

"Reducing me to an object of fear does not justify your cruel actions, Noah," you whispered, holding his gaze. Your hands clenched at your sides, urging every single nerve ending to maintain resistance against the man leaning dangerously close to you.

"Is that what this is?" Noah's features hardened at your accusation. Eyes narrowing, lips pressed into a thin line again. "Fear?"

"What else could it possibly be?" You shot back acerbically, jerking away from his touch - but he quickly caught your wrist, not in a punishing grasp but with an almost desperate hold.

“More than fear,” His voice barely a whisper, his eyes hollow, “It’s despair. It’s knowing that I would never be good enough for you - that you'll find someone who is.”

You stiffened at his words, unable to respond or look away from his penetrating gaze. You remembered every slight, every curt word he’d fired your way, wondering now if they were born of this terror he talked about.

"Noah," you murmured, feeling suddenly weak. He watched your every breath, waiting, his eyes searching yours for a sign of understanding.

“I hate feeling this way," he confessed with an overwhelming gravity in his tone. "It’s like...” Noah exhaled heavily as if the admission was physically draining him. "Like I'm in the middle of a lake... And just when I think I'm about to drown... I see you on shore, standing there... watching."

Your heart ached at his words, but you kept your expression neutral, aware that any break in semblance could send him retreating back into his shell.

For a while, an uncomfortable silence stretched between you two, broken only by the distant howl of the wind.

“Noah,” you said, meeting his gaze with newfound determination, “I can’t be held responsible for your fears.”

You could see him flinch, even though he tried to hide it, his gaze faltering from yours. “No… you’re right. You can’t. I’m to blame for letting this get out of hand.”

As you were about to sigh, Noah pressed his forehead against yours. The scent of stale cigarettes and alcohol filled your senses, and somehow, it was comforting.

“I need you,” he whispered, closing his eyes briefly before staring into your own.

You whispered his name as his lips brushed against yours; but you pushed his chest, turning your head away.

“You’re drunk.”

Your words snapped back to him, causing his shoulders to falter as he then clung to your body. Engulfing you into his chest, you wrapped your arms around him, your own chest heaving with the confession that lingered between you.

You’ve always found him irritably attractive. Even through his asshole demeanour, you wanted him to.

But not now. Not while he stood there, vulnerable.

“Let’s get back to the bus.”

+++++

Things weren’t the same now, and the rest of the crew noticed.

The next morning Noah’s head pounded as he laid in his bunk. A symphony of aches in his body reminded him of the previous night's raw conversation with you. His mouth felt like a sandbox, grains of regret cramped on his tongue.

“What the hell happened last night?” a dishevelled Ruffilo slid from the bunk above Noah. His voice pierced through the pounding in Noah's head like a well-aimed knife.

Noah grunted, shielding his eyes from the intrusive morning light streaming from an open window.

“Don’t remember,” he muttered, his voice raspy from sleep and too much alcohol.

Nicholas scoffed, tugging on a t-shirt crumpled on the floor, "You expect anybody to believe that?"

“Not my problem,” Noah grumbled, rolling over to ignore further questioning.

The remainder of their ride was spent in an unusual silence disrupted intermittently by the rumble of the bus over bumpy roads and occasional small talks among band members.

Your mutual avoidance turned noticeable. You were unusually still, almost as if your vivacious spark had been snuffed out, an unusual calm that gave away your internal storm. Similarly, Noah wore an impenetrable outer shell, venturing out only for a smoke or a swig from his water bottle.

There was a thick blanket of tension cast over the bus, which twitched and palpitated with each stolen glance between you two. It was like everyone aboard the bus could quite literally feel the static charge crackling in the air.

"Is something wrong?" Jolly finally broke the silence, oblivious to the undercurrent. His loud question rang through the silent bus, making everyone flinch at the sudden noise.

Nothing was said for a moment as all eyes turned to you, then Noah. You wrapped your arms tighter around your body, staring out at the road unfurling before you. "Nothing's wrong," came your curt reply.

Jolly was about to retort when a sharp glare from Nicholas stopped him in his tracks.

As soon as the studio came into view from the window, you stood up quickly, packing up your camera into your bag, “I’ll meet you inside. Don’t forget your outfits.”

You didn’t wait for the bus to fully stop before jumping out, bag slung over your shoulder and cap shielding your eyes. You dashed towards the studio without a backward glance, leaving the rest behind in dazed silence.

As the dust settled, Noah watched you disappear into the distance, your retreating figure growing fainter with each passing moment till all he was left with was an overwhelming emptiness and the scent of you lingering in the air.

“Gonna go after her?” Ruffilo finally broke Noah’s trance, pulling him back to reality.

Noah glanced back at him. There was a strange glint in his eyes. He shook his head, his stoic expression not revealing what he truly felt. “Not now, Nick. Just...not now.” His voice betrayed him, a single shard of vulnerability slipping through his walls of defence.

“Very well,” Ruffilo finally conceded, albeit reluctantly.

With that, Noah found himself standing alone as others headed inside. His grip tightened on the strap of his backpack before he followed in, dreading your gaze.

He didn’t fear losing you anymore- he knew he was never yours to lose. But what haunted him was the constant pain in your eyes, caused by him.

The photoshoot continued swiftly as you guided the boys into various poses. Adjusting their hair and shirts, you hesitantly brushed Noah’s bangs away from his face.

He stiffened at your touch, his anxious gaze darting to meet yours. You wanted to reassure him, tell him you weren't disgusted by him, but your pride got in the way. Your hand pulled away, leaving an invisible trail of tension on his forehead.

The shoot dragged on, and despite their best efforts to act normal and keep the mood light, the crew could feel the tension between you two. Noah was quieter than he'd ever been, and his eyes followed you around the room. The glances he sent you were just a shadow of his usual provocative smirks.

The other guys in the band tried to fill the void left by Noah's silence with lame jokes and exaggerated laughter. You appreciated their efforts, but it wasn't enough to completely wash away the sour taste that Noah's confession had left.

"Time for solos," You announced tiredly, nodding at the boys to change outfits. The portraits went relatively quickly until you reached Noah.

“You guys don’t need to stay,” You nodded at Jolly, who whispered a quiet ‘thank god’ under his breath.

Once you were alone, the studio seemed much larger than it was before. The high ceiling echoed back Noah’s steps as he approached the designated section for the photoshoot.

“Stand there,” You ordered, pointing to a spot against a rustic backdrop that you had prepared earlier. You could see him swallow nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing conspicuously.

You shifted your focus back to your camera, busying yourself with the various settings. You couldn't deny, though, that your mind was filled with thoughts of him.

Just as you brought the camera up to your eye, Noah cleared his throat. "I just wanted to say..." He began awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

Your heart thumped loudly in your ears as you lowered the camera to look at him. His eyes were wary, but determined as they met yours.

“I’m sorry," he finally muttered.

You remained silent, studying him through the lens of your camera. He looked different somehow - less of the bold, arrogant frontman and more of a man carrying the weight of his actions.

"Thanks for saying that, but it's not enough," you replied, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions within you. The charged stillness settled over both of you again like a shroud

Noah winced at your words, regret sharpening the usually soft curves of his face. As you snapped photos of him, capturing every painful oscillation of emotion on his hardened features, the air between you two thickened further.

“Fix your tie,” You mumbled, nodding at him as his hands fumbled with the fabric.

"There's nothing I can say, is there?" Noah said, his tone jittery as his hands fell to the sides.

Your heart clenched at his question. You wanted so desperately to reassure him, to let him know that things could be fixed, but doing so felt unfair - both to you and to him.

"Right now... No," you whispered finally, your voice barely audible. You sighed annoyed at his inability to fix the fabric, and strutted towards him, pulling the tie to the side gently.

You were inches from his body as you reached up, hands around his neck to fix the tie.

His body stiffened and he barely seemed to breathe, but he didn't move away or protest. For all his bluster and bravado, there was an inexplicably endearing quality to Noah in those moments of vulnerability.

Just as you were about done, your fingers grazed against his collarbone beneath his shirt. A sudden realization hit you; despite being so close physically, and emotionally you two were miles apart.

"There." You stepped back and met his eyes again, parrying the intensity of his gaze with your own cool neutrality.

“Thank you," he said, his voice barely a whisper. Yet you couldn’t let yourself back away just yet, “If there’s nothing I can say, can I show you?”

Your breath hitched as his eyes bore into yours, hands slowly reaching up to grip either side of your hip.

“Show me what?” You breathed, staring at his fixated gaze that now danced between your eyes and lips.

“Show you how much I care for you, deep down.”

His words hung in the air like a sharp winter wind, chilling you to the bone. But before you could reply, he dipped his head down, capturing your lips in a kiss. It was filled with desperation, whispering about his buried feelings in a way words never could.

You froze but didn’t pull back, his grip on your waist tightened, holding you with intense need.

His kiss was apologetic, passionate, and a plea for another chance all wrapped up in one. You found yourself surprised by how desperately you wanted to believe him, how badly you wanted this to be the answer

Instead of pulling away, you reached up, holding the collar of his shirt with clenched fists. You kissed him back, allowing your lips to move in sync with newfound heartache as he moulded into your body.

The surge of electricity that ran through your veins was enough to make your heart race. Noah's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer to his firm body. He wanted to make this right, he wanted to show you that his apology was sincere.

His touch was tender but firm, filled with a longing that spoke volumes more than his heated whispers ever could. His lips on yours felt like a desperate plea for forgiveness and comprehension; it was harrowingly sweet

As the heat between both of you simmered down, your lips parted from his slowly. Your breaths mingled in the silence of the studio, his forehead gently resting against yours as neither of you made an effort to pull away.

"Noah," you murmured, hesitating before scrambling to find the words that had been replaced by a strange echo of warmth spreading through you

He only responded by taking the camera off of your neck, placing it gently on the ground as he took your hips again, pushing you backwards toward the couch.

He stopped only a few inches away from the worn leather, brown eyes meeting yours. He was searching your gaze for guidance, for a sign you had not rejected his overtures. Even in the hushed inevitability of the moment, it seemed Noah was capable of respecting your boundaries. It was a level of sensitivity you hadn't expected from him; from the man who had just recently been a source of anguish.

He must have found whatever reassurance he'd been seeking because he guided you back until the back of your knees collided with the low couch. You fell onto its cushions rather gracelessly, Noah following you closely. The firm press of his body against yours lulled the protests stirring at the back of your mind.

His lips found yours again, their warmth seeping through your defences as though they were melting snow. And, despite his desperately shaking hands, Noah somehow managed to be delicate with you – cautious even. His movements were slow and measured, as though he was etching a memory onto his mind – this moment, you, everything about this.

His hand journeyed the curve of your waist, and the small of your back, exploring your body with an intimacy that reflected his longing. It pondered hesitantly at the hem of your shirt, a silent request seeking permission. You nodded slightly against his kiss – affirmation and surrender.

Noah's fingers crept under your shirt, pressing into the small of your back with an intensity that quickened your breath. You gasped at the contact of skin on skin; it felt like fire, burning through your inhibitions and reservations.

In the wake of that touch, you found yourself reciprocating; fingers tracing his broad shoulders before venturing down to his toned arms, all the way to the base of his spine. As if driven by instinct, you pulled him closer to you.

His hand found its way to your cheek, sweeping away a loose strand of hair as he broke the kiss and looked at you with a vulnerability that made your heart flutter.

"I’ll be different this time forward, I swear," he murmured, his eyes riddled with hope and fear, "I'll make it right.

His declaration sent a jolt of hope coursing through your veins, and you found yourself reaching up to gently stroke his cheek. It wasn’t often you saw him like this - so raw, so open. The sight of him, so beautifully vulnerable under your touch, stole your breath away.

"I don't just want different Noah," you replied softly, fingers brushing against his jawline, "I want better. I need better."

His eyes hardened for a moment - not in anger, but in determination. His arms pulled you closer to him as if he was afraid you'd disappear. You let out a giggle at his quaint possessiveness and pressed your forehead against his.

“Better...” he murmured, committing the word to memory. His hand slipped from your waist to capture yours, weaving his fingers through yours so naturally that it took your breath away. His grip was steady and warm, a promise of what was to come. He kissed down your jaw, to the bottom of your ear. Following down the skin of your neck he stopped, just above your collarbone with a gentle bite and kiss.

“I can do better,” he vowed, “You deserve better.”

You peered down at him beneath thick lashes, seeing a flicker of the man you once knew.

There was no guarantee that he could deliver on his promises or that you'd be strong enough to withstand the hurt if he didn't, but in this instance, under the lights of your shared studio, you didn’t care.

You needed him.

“Prove it,” you replied, causing Noah’s cheeks to burn with desire as he lifted your shirt over your head, kissing down the skin towards your jeans.

"Noah," you breathed, squirming against his touch.

His hands trembling slightly, and Noah undid the button of your jeans, drawing them down your legs.

“Look at me,” he whispered, forcing himself to still as he levelled his gaze with yours. You saw flashes of insecurity flicker in the depths of his eyes before they were smothered by resolve, "I mean it, I'll be better."

Taking a deep breath, you squeezed his hand as if to anchor him—and yourself—in this moment.

"Show me," you dared again. Your voice sounded stronger than you felt, braver than you thought possible. And when he reverently kissed a path upward from your navel—each touch a promise and a plea—you realized that this was not just about words and apologies, this was about actions.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as he peppered soft kisses along your bare skin, every brush of his lips sending sparks skittering across your body. The intimacy was powerful, overwhelming in its tenderness.

Noah stopped at your ribcage, locking eyes with you as he observed the rise and fall of your chest, his breath hitching in awe at the vulnerabilities you were sharing. In the silence of the room, his thumb drew invisible circles at the dip of your hip bone, soothing and tranquil amid burning desires.

In contrast to Noah's tenderness was the fierce desire reflected in your eyes - it mirrored his hunger, stirring a fire within him he thought had been extinguished. Swallowing down his nerves, he continued to trail kisses up your torso, each one laced with an affection that was as profound as it was raw.

A hushed "Wait," escaped your mouth, catching him off guard. Seeing uncertainty cloud his eyes, you squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"This doesn't mean everything is forgiven, Noah. It means I'm giving you a chance."

The sombre tones of your voice sparked a flicker of something in his eyes—scared but hopeful.

"I know," he whispered, brushing your hair away gently from your face. "And thank you...for giving me this chance."

You nodded and reached up to trace a finger along his jawline, pulling him back closer to you. Your lips met once again in a dance familiar yet new; a single affirmation of trust and longing that extinguished any lingering hesitation.

His breath fanned along the fabric that coated your desire, leaving you nervous as his eyes devoured you.

Yet you nodded, allowing him to pull the fabric to the side, and gently glide a finger between the folds.

Your hips withered at his touch, fighting the urge to rut upward against his fingers in desperation for more.

"Noah," you whispered again, echoing through the silent studio.

The soft plea tugged at something in his chest. He was as eager as you, but he knew something like this had to be savoured. With that in mind, he deepened his ministrations, taking slow strokes, tormenting you with an agonizingly measured pace with his fingers that left you gasping for breath.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured against your skin while his fingers continued their dance, pushing in and out of your body.

Your fingers clung onto his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as his movements drove you to the edge. Yet there was still a resistance within you, a pull back from the precipice of surrender.

Seeing your turmoil reflected in your tightly shut eyes and furrowed eyebrows, Noah paused before latching his mouth against you, flicking his tongue in long, delicate stripes.

The sudden pleasure of his mouth made you arch your back with a sharp gasp, every lingering hint of resistance crumbling under the litany of sensations flooding your body. Your fingers tangled even more desperately in his hair, encouraging him, pleading without words.

His moans vibrated against your skin, and you dared to watch as he enjoyed every taste you offered him.

The sight caused you to shudder, allowing your body to release and shake around his mouth as you held him in place with your hand, fingers gripping along his scalp.

His whispered praises and adorations mingled with your own gasping cries; an unfinished symphony of pleasure and connection. You called his name, a plea and a prayer laced with ecstasy that reverberated through the studio.

Breathing heavily, you held him still as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. Noah's teasing stopped his soft touch now providing comfort as he rode out the aftershocks with you.

When your trembling subsided, you carefully released him, moving your hand away from his head. He slowly kissed up your body, each one a silent thank you left in its wake until you found yourself locking eyes with Noah again

You sensed the eagerness in him, yet also restrained. He stared at you warily as if asking for permission, and while nervous butterflies fluttered in your stomach, you nodded.

"I can show you the world if you’ll let me,” He said softly, a promise twining itself around each word. His breath was hot against your skin, causing a shiver to run down your spine, exacerbating the butterflies in your belly into starlings.

"Show me," you whispered again, finally allowing yourself to fall, to let go of every single thread of resistance you'd clung to with desperation- ready to be pulled deeper into liminal space.

tags:

@xxkittenkissesxx @deathblacksmoke @nyxisnotok @anameunmusical @sitkowski

@sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @thefallennightmare

@whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking @veronicaphoenix @calleyx13 @tosoundlessdarkistare

@somewhere-diamond @auratheopossumwitch @blackveilomens @skulliecadaver-blog @silentglassbreak

@darkmxgician @sprokat @thatchickwiththecamera @xserenax-13 @fadingangelwisp

@philomenie @into-the-grey @amelia-acero @rumoured-whispers @anything-more-than-human @blacksoul-2 @sweetwombatpizza

@fuck-me-muke @ferduttini @lacy1986

[mysteria157]

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Black Fem Reader

CW: Profanity, Light Angst, Alcohol Consumption, Explicit Sexual Content, Missionary, Cowgirl, Fingering, Fingersucking, Cunnilingus, Slight Dom Reader (not much), Car Sex, Bathroom Sex

WC: ~16k (It's long so get some snacks)

Summary: 

Maybe you're single for a reason. You’re too outspoken and mean to men, too demanding with your expectations, and you refuse to settle for less. For the ones who aren't worth the air they breathe, you chew them up and spit them out. You savor the taste so you know what to avoid the next time.

So when he looks down at you with that devilish smirk and calls you 'Princess', you're determined to prove that Toji Fushiguro is no exception.

Notes: Hello! This is my first fic with Toji and I'm nervous to get it out here. The setting of this fic and the elements I incorporated connect a lot with my own childhood and the memories (not the interactions in this fic) that I had at family cookouts and get-togethers. Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated! Happy reading!

Dividers: @royallaesthetics @eloquentmoon

Masterlist | Ao3 | Twitter | **Sequel**

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

“Can I get you a drink, princess?”

When you meet Toji Fushiguro for the first time, it’s on the fourth of July at your uncle’s house. It’s a big get-together at a two-story house located in the countryside. Every year he opens up his spacious home for a gathering of your extended family to bring excessive amounts of alcohol, play old school rap and R&B too loudly, devour delicious fucking food, and set off fireworks that have been collected since the beginning of the year. 

Your uncle has already made a home by the grill and taken control of the speakers after one of your younger cousins attempted to play something ‘a little too racy’ for his tastes. You’re pretty sure it was an Ice Cube song from the 90s that your uncle hates but is too proud to admit, so he lectures your cousin about ‘what young folks should be listening to’ instead. 

The smell of hamburgers and ribs has been teasing your nose for the past hour, and your hunger is borderline unbearable with each sniff. You avoid the allure of the long table of food because if you look, you’ll be three plates in before the meat is done. There’s coleslaw, baked beans, greens, and macaroni and cheese. Your favorite aunt also brought her potato salad and you know she’s going to make yellow cake with chocolate frosting fresh before the fireworks. You love it so much and you were deprived of it last year when you were called in to work at the last minute. You will get some today.

The backyard is expansive and well-maintained, and your cousins and aunts have already laid their claim on swanky cushions of the nice patio furniture. 

The one cousin you’re closest to in age and personality sits next to you on a large blanket a few yards away from the rising volume of your extended family. You were able to get a good ten minutes of conversation from her before her fiancé showed up and made a home inside of her mouth.

Your family normally has something to say about PDA—a stupid quip about acting ‘too grown’ even though you are both knocking on the door of thirty. But she doesn’t care—just like you, that’s why you like her so much even though her fiancé is sucking on her face like it’s his last day on Earth.

Shiu Kong is nice—gentle in his own way and carries himself with a bored air that seems to pull your cousin in. He’s enamored with her, practically folds in on himself when she’s around, and worships the ground she walks on. They’ve been together for a few years and you’ve never had a problem with him.

But that just might change today because he’s brought along a friend who has already ignited a flame of arousal and annoyance deep within your belly. From the moment Toji Fushiguro stepped into the backyard with Shiu, your family was transfixed. Your aunts can’t stop ogling, and your uncles and male cousins try to jokingly size him up.

“Oh honey why don’t you sit down, don’t be shy. Lemme get you something to drink.”

“That’s not steroids? It’s gotta be. Don’t play.”

“How much you bench?”

It’s annoying. So fucking annoying but you can’t help but agree. He’s a little older—maybe early thirties—but dangerously attractive.

Raven hair that reaches his ears, looks unbelievably soft and falls over emerald green eyes. A grey shirt hugs him too fucking deliciously for your comfort and dark jeans hug an ass that’s too fucking juicy. He’s a big man—a burly man and unfortunately, that’s how you like them.

Big, burly like a bear, respectful, and capable of making you feel small and protected but also valuing and worshipping you as a woman. Unfortunately, such men are hard to come by because you tend to intimidate them. You don’t tolerate disrespect in any form and quickly put men in their place if they try to undermine, belittle, or confuse protection with control. You know what you want, and you refuse to settle for less. 

They can’t stand it.

And right now, you can’t stand Toji. As he looks down at you with a well-worn smirk on his face, a smirk that suggests he has plenty of experience in situations like this, your irritation grows. He’s a smooth talker, confident in almost everything he says. His voice is deep, but melodic in a strangely feminine way that makes his words slide like silk down your back, and the minute you heard it, your thighs threatened to rub together. 

Definitely a smooth talker. But the nickname you don’t care for. 

Princess.

Like you’re a dainty little thing who will bat her eyelashes and call him Daddy. It makes your walls of self-defense rise even higher, and the gentle smile you had given Shiu when he first said hello moments ago transforms into the beginnings of a frown. 

Without hesitation, you rise to your feet, plant your wedges firm into the grass, and turn away from them before muttering, “I’m good.”

Toji simply shrugs; a gesture that annoys you even more because he doesn’t offer any other reaction that satisfies you. He settles into your previously vacated spot, leaning back on his hands. The jacket on his shoulders falls open and the sight of his shirt hugging his muscles is too much for you.

You inwardly curse as your eyes wander over his physique. Thick pectorals that you could easily rub your face against and make a pillow for yourself to sleep on stretch the fabric in a way that you’re sure it’ll rip. Abdominals tease just below the surface of his shirt that clings to him like a second skin. You want to lick between each one, press your teeth into the hard skin to make him wince and beg as you count each one.

Four, six, eight? 

Fuck.

You don’t show how you want to straighten your spine against the chill of being caught staring. That smirk is on his face again, tugging at the corner of his mouth. There’s a scar on the right side that slashes vertically over his top and bottom lip and you dislike the arousal that begins to boil between your legs from the sight. You wonder how he got it. If it was a fight, did he win? The thought of him wrestling another man to the floor and taking a cut to the face in the process shouldn’t arouse you, but god it does. 

His eyes make you think of moss as you watch them slide up your body, and it almost feels like invisible hands caressing you. They’re large and pale, littered with scars along the knuckles as they glide up your exposed chocolate legs, dip between your inner thighs, and caress the curves of your hips.

“See something you like?” 

He’s ogling you but has the nerve to try and put you on the spot? You have enough self-control to let logic worm through the rising lust inside of you. You sneer down at him, sharp enough for Shiu to visibly pale and your cousin to giggle at.

“To be honest, I don’t really see much.”

You don’t give him a chance to retort and you pretend not to hear the soft hum of nonchalance he throws back. You walk away from them, turning just in time to shield the way your eyes widen at the feel of your face and neck prickling with heat.

The moment you close the bathroom door inside your uncle’s house, the breath trapped within your lungs escapes in a rush. You press your forehead against the wood and the coolness of it offers only little relief to the burning of your skin. 

You turn your head and press your cheek against the wood so the cold surface can slide along your cheek as you open your eyes to take in your reflection.

Of course, Toji would ogle you. You’re confident enough to know your beauty.

A red sundress that hugs your curves, stops at your mid-thighs. Knotless braids with curled ends are piled on top of your head in a loose bun with a few strands that spill along your hairline.

You’re good-looking. But you’ve been out of practice with a man for a long time. Your last relationship ended when you caught him balls-deep in your coworker. You’re too shy to pursue a one-night stand and not detached enough for a situationship. 

However, you could risk it all for Toji and you hate that you’re entertaining the thought. You hate that you’re imagining him barging into the bathroom, bending you over the counter, and taking you from behind with his large hand digging into the small of your back and whispering how much of a good girl you are as you beg him to cum.

God, get yourself together.

To calm yourself down, you find solace in your uncle’s quiet kitchen. There’s only one person occupying it, your favorite aunt, who is heavily pregnant and working on the yellow cake that you’ve been thinking about all day. You use the opportunity to distract yourself and take over for her, shooing her away to relax in the backyard. 

You crack an egg against the off-white countertop, fractures splitting up the sides before spilling its contents into the silver mixing bowl in front of you. A self-deprecating thought slithers in your ears, and whispers loudly with wicked intention. 

Toji wouldn’t want a woman like you.

You’re too outspoken and mean to men, too demanding with your expectations. It pushes them all away, and although you normally take pride in keeping away those who aren’t worth your time, it can get lonely. 

To see your ex actively cheating on you was icing on a cake that was slowly cooking in an oven of your own self-doubt. You have standards, and while your friends consider you the voice of reason in their misfortunes with men, most members of your family think you’re too picky. You’re too much work, ‘you think you know everything’. 

“Men will always have a wandering eye, it’s up to you to keep them in check, girl.”

“Honey, I love you, but the more you pick apart a man, the less he will want to be around you.”

“They love it when you cook for them, girl. Take care of your man and keep him fed and you’ll keep him forever.”

Bullshit.

It’s bullshit to take care of a man in the same way his own mother does. It’s bullshit to lose all sense of self and independence, to wait on a man when he gives you less than nothing in return—when he can hardly give you the bare minimum. You don’t mind cooking for a man who takes care of you, who loves and values you, who would never hold you back and would encourage you when you can hardly encourage yourself.

But all the good ones are in relationships now, married with a few kids, and in your resolve to stay strong and weed out the bad to find the good, it’s left you a little bitter.

Most black families are old school, and yours is no exception. They hold ‘for better or worse’ a little too close to their heart. They cling to an ideal that a man runs the household down to the basics in a way that makes you uneasy and in your defense, you snap when you’re backed into a corner.

You love them, you truly do, but they probably will never understand just how aware you are of the world and how little you are willing to put up with the problematic things that others consider normal.

Your ex was great at first. But he got comfortable. And when he got comfortable, he got lazy, a little too controlling, and a little too frustrated when you asked for certain things in the bedroom. The only person who knows about your breakup is your mother, who had the gall to be out of the country for work, leaving you to fend for yourself for today. 

You watch as the batter spills on each side of your wooden spoon, parting and then falling back together like sand. In your reverie, you don’t notice a few of your relatives who have now entered the kitchen and are roaming through the fridge. You can hear one of your least favorite aunts—the bitchy one—playfully joking with someone, and whatever drivel comes out of her mouth makes that person laugh. It’s deep and suave enough to make a tingle of electricity stutter down your spine because you know it’s him.

Refusing to look in their direction, you continue mixing the batter until the lumps disappear.

“You been hiding in this kitchen for awhile now,” your aunt begins, Atlanta accent the most grating it’s ever been as she turns her gaze toward you. “You’re normally a little more talkative when your man is here. He not coming?”

There is not a trace of genuine concern in her tone. You and her bicker often; she presses your buttons and then gets mad when you press back. Your ex’s infidelity is ammunition you don’t want to give her, but being caught in a lie is something she would only treasure more to use against you later. 

You clear your throat and turn the spoon in the batter once, then twice before answering without looking her way.

“No, he actually came inside of my coworker a few weeks ago. So we split up.”

You can feel the noise before you hear it—a characteristic and sharp ‘mmm’ that seems to be ingrained in your family’s DNA. It makes your grip tighten on the wooden spoon, and you scrape along the bottom of the bowl until it screeches on the metal.

“You gotta watch out for this one, Toji. She’s always been an outspoken one. Too good for ‘em all and likes to be a little mean to her men.”

You scrape harder and then turn to her, a sickly sweet smile plastered on your face. 

“You’re right. The fact that I won’t settle for someone who will get bored with me after a few years makes me way too good for them. Should have turned the other cheek just like you did with your last husband. Or…was it the one before him?”

You catch the way Toji pulls his lips in to bite down on them, scar twitching as he fights to hold in a snicker.

Your aunt glares at you, purses her lips, and turns them to the side before pulling in a noise that has been passed down for generations. Her mother and her mother’s mother used the very same tactic to strike fear and insignificance in their children when they talked back. It’s a sucking of air between her teeth and the sound makes years of discipline from your own mother flash in your mind like you’re in the trenches of war. 

You know she wants to say something, and you can taste the ‘you always got something to say’ in the air before Toji slides from his perch against the counter and places a hand on your aunt’s shoulder.

“Let’s get you a drink, huh? Didn’t you say you wanted me to try the beer you brought in?” She throws you a knowing glare before letting Toji lead her away; because if there is one thing that will distract her from showing out, it’s letting a good-looking man touch her.

The shaking in your hands helps you sift in the dry ingredients—a mix of sugar, flour, and baking soda—into the batter. The breaths through your nostrils are heavy and thick with anger, and the corners of your eyes sting with heat. You whip the batter harder than necessary, your aunt’s words replaying in your mind like a broken record.

Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry. Don’t—

The sight of a can of hard seltzer pressing onto the counter in front of you makes the ramblings in your mind stop. Familiar long fingers unfurl from the can and slide on the counter, their fingertips touching the edges of your mixing bowl in an effort to get to you.

“I would have given you a bottle of beer. But I had a feeling you might bash it over your aunt’s head.” He’s not wrong, and in your frustrated state, you consider his defense admirable. “I like a fight, but I’m a guest and the food looks good.” 

Your grip on the spoon loosens slightly as Toji leans casually against the refrigerator, arms crossed over bulging biceps that stretch the short sleeves of his shirt. His jacket is now gone, and you can’t help but notice the veins in his forearms that protrude, tempting you to lick against them.

It takes the sheer will to tear your eyes away and focus on pouring the batter into the bundt cake mold, observing as it fills the intricate crevices. 

“So he cheated? Most men are pigs.”

“But not you, huh?” you can’t help but retort, shaking the mold to disperse the air pockets that bubble on the surface.

In your peripheral, he shrugs. “I know what I like in a woman and once I get what I want, it makes no sense to look somewhere else unless she wants me gone. I’m a man…but I’m a loyal man.”

When you meet his emerald gaze, you can see a hint of pain and vulnerability that unsettles you, tilts you back on your heels from the force of his honesty. You reach for the can of seltzer and take a long swig to give yourself time to get your thoughts in order. The carbonation is sweet and fizzles along the sides of your tongue and down your throat. 

“So what is it you like in a woman, Toji?”

It’s a question that probably should have been left untouched, but your curiosity overpowers your restraint. You don’t want to go back outside, because if your aunt is still feeling particularly petty, she will say something that will only make you leave. And you don’t feel like letting your family win today. 

Toji’s strong gaze certainly isn’t helping. Those invisible hands slide along the crevices and dips of your body, stroking the small of your back before pressing featherlight against the back of your neck. The hairs rise in response, your skin prickling with gooseflesh. 

Unexpectedly, he pushes off the refrigerator and walks closer to you, and you’re too shocked to back away. Despite his imposing stature, you know he won’t harm you. There’s something about him that’s warm and inviting, soft and tender even though his exterior is hard lines and muscle. The two of you are now mere inches apart, and the air feels thin as if you’ve reached the summit of a mountain and struggle to breathe due to the change in altitude. 

Jet black locks graze against a rough cheek, the tips kissing the raised scar on the side of his mouth. Up close you can see his features more closely. His eyes are sharp and intense with deep green between his lids as if hiding a pearl in an oyster. Thin eyebrows make him look more serious and cutting and you’re swallowing back drool because your nose picks up a faint whiff of woodsy amber emitting from his body. It smells cheap—he’s put together in the most basic sense—but it still smells…good.

“I like a woman who knows what she’s about. Independent and doesn’t fuck around. Smart and pretty with curves I can grab and squeeze. Someone with some sass and isn’t afraid to put anyone in their place.”

He steps closer and your lungs heave in a desperate attempt to pull in air. The brush of the wall against your back makes you stutter out your exhale and you press your palms flat against the cool surface to keep you grounded.

“I like a woman with nice creamy brown skin that smells a little like the cake she’s baking…” Through the sea of delirium, you distantly realize that he’s describing you. “The red dress definitely is a bonus.”

That familiar smirk pulls against his lips again and your heart is thundering in your chest. You would be surprised if he couldn’t see it thumping erratically beneath the skin between what’s exposed of your cleavage. 

But this is just another trick in their book to get you in their bed. Or in the bathroom. Or over the kitchen counter.

And as much as you want to, you can’t give in. Because you’ll hate yourself tomorrow.

So you tilt your chin up at him and narrow your eyes at his amused expression. 

“Describing me in place of your ‘ideal woman’? That’s boring. Go use it on my bitchy aunt, she’s got fillers in her ass so that’s more curves for you to ‘grab and squeeze’ when she throws herself on you after the Hennessey kicks in.”

Toji’s eyes widen slightly before a harsh laugh barks from his mouth. It’s surprisingly nice on your ears and rattles the drums inside in a way that you don’t dislike. He pulls away from you, giving you a few more inches of space and the altitude in the air seems to level out enough for you to take an inconspicuous deep breath. 

“Nah, nothing against fillers, but I’m more of a natural man myself,” he admits.

“Cellulite and stretch marks?” you ask with a lift of a brow, teasing but…mildly curious.

You watch as that smile slowly slides on his face, teeth glittering and eyebrows raising. He looks like he’s hit the jackpot. 

“The whole package, princess.”

Biting the inside of your cheek to suppress a smile, you push down the lingering arousal in your stomach, refusing to let it simmer. He’s funny and you appreciate a man who loves the raw and often overlooked intricacies of a woman.

His response is disorienting, throwing you off balance, and you’re unsure of what to do next. Your usual response is to talk back, to take delight in a man fumbling when his own cards have been turned against him. But you can’t think of anything right now. 

You move around him to place the bundt cake mold into the oven, setting a timer with the plastic buttons above the stove. Snatching the seltzer from the counter, you lean back against the oven, putting a considerable distance between the two of you to think. 

Toji mimics your movements, retreating to the fridge to relax against it, folding his arms across his chest, and god he still takes up the room. Even though you’re further away, it still seems like you can smell the cologne as if it’s sitting right on the skin below your nose.

“Do your moves always work on women?” you ask before taking a good swig of your seltzer.

He shrugs in response and turns around to dig a beer from the fridge. You don’t bother to hold back the urge to leer at him. You want to grab his ass, listen to him squeal in surprise, and blush in embarrassment when you squeeze. The thought of digging your fingers into the skin of it as he fucks you nice and slow makes your mind short circuit, a computer rebooting and making a loud noise before frying out indefinitely.

“On the rare occasion that I happen to use them, yes they always work. But…obviously not on you.”

“I’m not easy to win over. You need to be worth my time.” Your eyes flicker up to his face before he turns around to face you.

He takes a swig of his beer and you watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs with each swallow. The column of his throat is long and pale and you want to slide your tongue along the side to taste the saltiness of his skin.

“What’s it going to take?”

His interest in you is admirable, and a small part of you is giddy with the attention. But you’re nervous to give him an inch when most are quick to take a mile.

“I have a name so stop calling me princess. I’m not a royal, so unless you’re offering me land, money, or power, I don’t want to hear it.”

He barks out another laugh, his thick chest shaking and eyes closing as he throws his head back. You despise how good it sounds and you’re reminded of these moments when men seem so beautiful and wonderful before the ugliest parts of them are visible.

“What else?” he inquires, still chuckling as he takes another long sip.

“If you’re expecting sex from me, think again. I don’t do one-night stands or friends with benefits. It’s messy and I just don’t have the strength for it.”

He seems to consider your remark as if he has no choice but to weigh your stipulation before signing a contract. Then he smirks that devilish smirk that makes your cunt pulse between your thighs when you know damn well it shouldn’t. You cannot be this turned on by this man.

“Not even if I have a big dick?” he teases.

He’s annoying and you’re mildly disgusted but still willing to banter with him, so you grimace and roll your eyes. “What, you want me to take a look first before I make up my mind?”

He full-on grins, the fucker. “If that’s what it takes.”

But in true fashion, you bounce back with your own quip. “Public indecency is a crime and I also don’t like to look at cock until after I’ve eaten something. It’s nauseating.”

Laughter erupts from him once again, loud and boisterous that it seems to shake the oven against your back. He probably thinks you’re joking. But you’re not. Dick already looks alien. Looking at dick on purpose without any sense of arousal is pathological behavior. 

Your heart flips in your chest when he pushes off the refrigerator again, taking a swig of his beer as he saunters to you and the sight is criminal. Your fingers dig just slightly into the metal can in your hands, a faint pop emanating from it. 

“What are you bothering me for anyway,” you can’t help but ask, frustration coating your words as you frown more at yourself than at Toji. “I have so many other cousins here who are single and would love to get their hands on you.”

At first, he doesn’t respond, and in the silence, you struggle to take a full breath again. You don’t like that he’s so close to you, but you also love the way he smells and the way he looks at you as if you’re someone and not something to fucking eat. You’re a fucking mess. 

His head tilts slightly, and his hair follows the movement, brushing against his cheeks as his eyes take you in instead of scrutinizing you. 

The air feels thin again, and you ready yourself to leave when your pregnant aunt suddenly barges back into the kitchen and stops short at the scene. Toji takes a slow step back, not really bothering to fumble at being so close to you. You’re sure he doesn’t really care.

She’s your favorite for a reason because she understands. She’s not dismissive and mean and she simply smiles knowingly at you both before gesturing with her head towards the backdoor.

“Time to eat. Honey, why don’t you show Toji what’s what before your uncles steal everything.”

***

He stays close to you when you both make it outside, and you do your best to ignore your bitchy aunt’s gaze from her perch in one of the patio chairs. The spread of food makes your mouth water and you waste no time grabbing a plate for yourself and absentmindedly handing Toji one as well.

“I’ve never had some of this before,” he admits, and his voice is a little apprehensive from next to you as he takes everything in. It makes sense, this is probably his first cookout…his first black cookout at least. Strangely, you’re proud to be the one to guide him along.

“What is this?” he asks, pointing to the heavy helping of greens and ham hocks on his plate minutes later. You’re both at a small table alone and away from the noise.

“Collard greens…it’s a cabbage that’s cooked in a pot for a few hours with spices and broth. The ham hocks give it flavor, cook it before you add the greens so the meat falls off the bone better.” 

You bite your lip to keep from laughing as Toji gives them a wayward glance, an arch of a thin brow that makes his features more handsome than they should be, and then he takes a tentative bite before moaning sinfully in appreciation. The vertebrae of your spine lock in place, stiff with a sudden chill at the noise as you picture it slipping from his lips while you ride him until the hinges fall off. 

You take your own bite to stop anything stupid from coming out of your mouth.

You figure he has to eat to accommodate for his size but to see it in action is something else entirely. He finishes two plates in fifteen minutes and as he makes his way to get another serving, your bitch of an aunt speaks up from across the lawn.

“Why don’t you get up and get him another plate?”

Why don’t you shut the fuck up?

You grip the plastic fork in your hand tightly, digging into your diminishing potato salad and swallowing the vile that you want to throw her way. 

Make your man a plate before you make yours, get him a drink, get him another helping so he doesn’t have to, keep him fed.

Maybe this is why you’re single. You want to scream. You want—

“Don’t listen to her. You’re still eating, don’t move,” he levels, and you don’t miss the hint of irritation in his own voice as he gets up. “The same seltzer as before?” he asks, pointing to your drink that you didn’t realize was empty.

“I—”, you fumble before clearing your throat. “I like the strawberry one…if there’s any left.”

He shoots a wink your way and your body ignites with heat.

Your cousin worms her way over when Toji disappears, and you try your best to ignore the sly look on her face.

“Defending your honor from our bitchy aunt? My, my, the perfect recipe for your feminist heart.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you growl, shoving the last of the potato salad in your mouth. 

“He’s Shiu’s best friend. Moved here from Japan a few months ago and is living in the same city as you. It could be fate? You want his number?”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap again, feeling exasperated but knowing that unless Shiu is here to stop her, she will talk until she’s tired or you’re swinging at her.

She giggles, undeterred and gearing up for more. “He’s single too. And you’ve got all our other cousins mad as hell because he won’t leave you alone.” You don’t reply, because you’re mildly intrigued and impressed with yourself. It’s nice to have the attention from someone so attractive; it’s just figuring out if he’s genuine that’s the headache. “When the music gets louder tonight…or when the fireworks go off, take him upstairs and fuck him on—”

“Didn’t I say—fuck you.”

She guffaws, loud and unabashed and it pulls a smile from the side of your mouth. You know she doesn’t mean it, you know that at gatherings like these, you’re the black sheep and she just wants you to enjoy yourself.

“Seriously though, cousin. Shiu doesn’t keep many around, but they’ve been friends since they were kids. That’s a good sign right?”

There’s some merit to it, but you still want to be careful.

And Toji Fushiguro makes it hard for you to be careful because he wants you around him all the time and is unashamed to show it. 

Later in the night when the music is booming old school hip hop that your uncle won’t shut up about (he’s drunk), your other uncles—and a few cousins they will definitely con—have a table already bustling with spades. At first, you’re unsure how they convinced Toji to join, but he’s partnered with one of your cousins who has no clue about the game, and you realize they just want Toji to lose so they can feel good.  

Feeling curious, you pretend to bring Toji a beer. He’s frowning down at the cards, irritated with his lips curled into a small scowl and your cousin is trying to act like he knows what to do, but his stupidity is palpable even from where you stand.

You offer him a beer and ignore the fact that the one on the table is still full. When he looks up at you, his sharp eyes hold you like a vice, frustration evaporating quickly before opportunity takes its place.

“Help me.” He doesn’t bother to hide the confusion in his voice and you can’t help the way your stomach flips. 

One of your uncle’s snickers. “She doesn’t know how to play.” You do. “But she can try.”

You’re so annoyed, and you want to snap at him but Toji is pulling you closer to him with a muscular arm before you can. You’re in his lap before you know it, sitting precariously on a thick thigh with your back pressed against a broad chest and you can’t breathe again. The fluctuating altitudes are making you lightheaded.

Any other time and you wouldn’t hesitate to turn around and knock a man’s teeth in for grabbing you. But against your better judgment, you relax into Toji instead. His cheap cologne smells way too fucking good, he’s so big and warm against your body and your throat is drying up like you’ve taken a big breath in the middle of the Sahara.

“Don’t grab me like that,” you can’t help but grumble, only mildly put off.

“I improvised.” It’s a feeble excuse wrapped around a heavenly chuckle in your ear and you pray to whoever is listening, mentally offering up a sacrificial lamb, anything to ensure you don’t drip all over his thigh. “Now help me win.”

You do. Three times. He's adamant about winning and you're sure he has a gambling problem. And if your legs go a little numb from sitting on his thigh or if you lean into the way his outside hand slides to hold the curve of your waist, you don’t complain about it.

***

“You don’t dance?” Toji asks an hour later, joining you on the blanket that you occupied when you first arrived. It’s almost sunset, and the orange of the sky covers half of the backyard as your family revels in their merriment.

You shrug at Toji’s question, gazing at members of your family who are dancing in the yard. One of your loudest uncles is boasting about the music as he teaches one of your cousins dance steps. That used to be you so many years ago, and the moves are like muscle memory as you watch them. One of your aunts takes over the stereo, beginning what will surely be an hour of reminding everyone of the greatest hits. 

You suddenly realize that it’s just you and Toji on the blanket. Your cousin and Shiu are off god knows where, and given her penchant for being a rebellious freak, she’s probably riding him on your uncle’s bed. The thought makes you shudder.

“Are you cold?” he probes, pulling you out of your thoughts.

It is cooler now, but that’s not why you were shivering. You’re ready to tell him no, to start shaking your head even as you watch him pull his own jacket off to place it over your shoulders. His hands smooth over your shoulders and down your arms as if securing it closer to your skin and your blood boils beneath your cheeks. Your skin isn’t light enough to show when you’re blushing, but you’re burning with nervousness.

“Stop being so nice to me,” you hiss instinctively, regretting the words as soon as they leave your mouth. The surprise is evident on his face and you immediately feel guilty. “I’m—I’ll only be mean to you in return.”

For the first time of the night, he looks angry. His eyebrows dip, the scar on his cheek twists with the harsh frown on his lips and he gives a severe ‘tch’ that makes you gape at him. “Why because you’re mean to men?” he snaps, impatient and free of any tease. 

It raises your hackles instantly, and you’re talking back before you know it. “Exactly. So why don’t you take a hint and stop trying to get into my pants—”

You feel a rough finger on the side of your cheek turn you further towards him, preventing you from looking at anything else.

“You just don’t like bullshit. Stop acting up and let me be nice to you.” 

For once, you don’t have anything to say even though your hand is twitching with the urge to slap the words from his mouth. You want to. It’s easy for you to fight back and push them away, you’re good at it. But you can’t fight the way his gaze seems to calm you down against your better judgment.

You pull your face from his hold and roll your shoulders, sliding out of his sharp gaze and turning back to your lively family. One of your cousins is arguing about why the Cowboys didn’t make it into the playoffs, and now everyone has something to say.

You pull in a deep breath, scolding yourself to relax just a little. He hasn’t been so bad, and you’re not one to make things intentionally difficult if a man is honestly trying. You’re still apprehensive about his intentions…but he is trying without being a beast. So you exhale your frustrations into the July air, calm down so your heart can steady its frantic pounding from the lingering scent of his cologne, and dig your fingers into your uncle’s well-kept grass.

“Fine. If I let you be nice to me…what would be the next thing you would say?”

You can’t look at him, but you feel his eyes on your body as you pluck a few blades of grass from the soil. The strands slide against the pads of your fingertips, rough and threatening to cut, before fluttering in the breeze when you release them. 

He’s grabbing you again, tenderly but possessively, sliding you into his embrace so your back is to his muscular chest, his chin rests on the side of your temple and his arms wrap around your waist. Your heart is back to leaping in your chest, pumping loud and fast in your ears, drowning out the music and arguing as if you’re underwater.

“How about you tell me about your family?” he suggests, voice unmuffled through the thickness of your hearing.

It’s a random ask, as if he wants to impress them, as if you’ve been dating for a long period of time and he wants to be prepared to meet them for the first time. The thought doesn’t leave a bad taste in your mouth, even though you know it would never be a reality anyway. You don’t know if he’s just joking and frankly, the feel of him against you is warmer than his jacket on your shoulders and you don’t want to leave.

So, if it means he can stay put, you give in. You tell him about your aunts, uncles, and cousins—where they are from and what they do. You share your traditions when you all get together and the small intricacies you all share. It’s incredibly personal…maybe even too intimate. But he listens, and hums to let you know he’s paying attention, and asks you questions as you talk.

Eventually, his cheek rests on the crown of your head against your braids and you surprisingly don’t mind at all. When you notice his arms wrapped around you, you get a better view of the scars on his arms and fingers, and there is a rising urge to ask how he got each one.

“So she’s been married twice?” his voice is low in your ear so you can only hear him in the noisy backyard. His breath smells faintly of the beer he finished an hour ago, and it slides along the skin of your neck hot and thick. You resist the urge to cant your neck to the side to give his breath more room to roam.

You nod. “She got the fillers after the first husband. Those brought in the second husband. Then he left her for some girl in Cali.”

“Cali?’ he questions, confused.

You snort softly. “California.” You elbow him and the bone slides against hard muscle. Dammit. “You don’t know your states?”

“I’m foreign, not stupid.” The laugh that bubbles from your chest is sharp and you can’t help the smile that pulls against your cheeks from it. “I know my states!” He sounds truly annoyed and for some reason that makes you laugh harder. “Florida, Kansas—”

“I’m not asking you to prove yourself!” you sputter around a giggle, shaking in his embrace. But he’s not listening.

“Montana, New York…there’s another one…the big one.”

You gawk, turning just a little to crane your head up at him. He looks down at you with an embarrassed expression, his cheeks a little rosy even though his lips are flickering with the urge to laugh. 

“I beg your finest pardon…the big one?”

The side of his face twists in the nastiest way, and he’s angry at being questioned. “Don’t—it’s the one down below!”

“In relation to what?”

His eyes narrow, emerald barely noticeable between thick lashes. You can sense his hold on you tightening slightly, his chest stutters in a huff and you realize with rising glee that he’s pouting. Normally you would revel in this…but—

“Texas,” you find yourself speaking up at him, voice soft and gentle on the edges. “The big one down below is Texas.”

He simply hums, his chest vibrating against your back, but his gaze is smoldering, taking you in and dipping down to your lips before flickering back up your eyes. You’re too hot now, his jacket against your skin too suffocating, your heart beating too fast against your ribcage.

You hate just how rebellious you like to be. “What, you gonna kiss me?”

The challenge is fleeting across his features and he leans down so quickly that you don’t have time to react. Your stomach flips with irritation at the implication that he would take from you without asking, and suddenly, you no longer want him touching you.

“I wouldn’t take it without asking,” he whispers in the small space between you both as if reading your thoughts. The tips of his raven locks brush against your cheek, there’s a slight kink in your neck from how you are looking up at him, but he’s so close that you don’t care. One of his hands skims up from your waist, caressing the curve of your ribs, and his thumb teasingly runs along the underside of your clothed breast. His touch is reactive in you, and you angle your body further into his actions. His gaze remains locked on yours, absorbing your very being without doing a thing and you’re fighting to stay in control.

“So can I?” he asks, voice deep with temptation. “Kiss you?”

You swallow the bucket of drool that has somehow pooled in the back of your throat in seconds. The thumping of your heart no longer fills your ears, replaced now by a deafening ringing, spurred by your growing desire as you open your mouth to respond. 

“I…depends…are you any good?”

He nonchalantly shrugs, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as his scarred lips twist into a smirk. He’s completely calm and you can tell if you told him no, he would leave it alone entirely. But he’s enjoying this, you can see it all over his face.

“Jury’s still out.”

You don’t trust yourself to say ‘yes’. Some part of you feels like if it comes out of your mouth, it will sound too desperate and you want to stay in control as much as you can. But, you could give yourself this. You’ve earned it. Just one kiss and then you could hide away until the fireworks and then use the noise as a cover to leave. After all, he’s hot. He’s been so nice and honest and the warning siren in your mind has long faded.

You deserve a reward.

So you nod, stiffly but enough for him to notice, and the air seems to thin out again when he leans in a little more.

“Toji!” one of your uncles calls out, severing through the heavy cloud of lust between you both like a knife. You recoil from his touch, his touch now only making you itchy, and you pull from his embrace so that his arms unravel and his jacket slides off your shoulders. The cooler air is freezing this time against your skin. “Come help me with the fireworks, would you?”

You don’t pay attention to his response, because you’re already up on your feet and making your way inside the house. Your body floods with the embarrassment and shame of being caught by your family…kissing a man that you’ve just met. You know you shouldn’t care…but it’s so easy for their behavior to rub off on you when you feel vulnerable.

***

Thankfully, no one is in the kitchen when you finally make it inside. The music dulls down when you close the backyard door and the ringing in your ears is now silent. 

You resolve to stay inside until the fireworks go off. No one is really paying attention to you anyway—most of them are drunk, others too absorbed in the music and gossip so it’s a perfect chance for you to duck away and show your face again next year.

Should you tell Toji goodbye?

No.

No, you hardly know the man. Just a few hours in good company and a kiss that almost happened that you probably would have let escalate. You probably would have let his tongue slide into your mouth. Probably would have let him pull you into one of the spare rooms, eat you out until you’re seeing stars, and then bend you over the edge of the bed to fuck you until he—

For fuck’s sake.

You yank open one of the kitchen cabinets in search of a glass. You need water because your body is piping hot. There’s a sheen of sweat on your neck beneath the layer of braids that fell when Toji laid his cheek on your head, and your hands are slick as they press into the counter to give you strength to peek into one of the lower shelves. Of course, the only one in the cabinet would be on the highest shelf. Of course, you’re too fucking short.

You climb onto the counter, knees digging into the off-white surface as you lift yourself up and peer into one of the higher shelves. You spot a glass, and you can have a heaping glass to cool yourself off enough to get you home. And then you can just use your vibrator once and go to sleep. Or twice. Or maybe a third time to get the thought of him out of your mind for the foreseeable future. 

Unbeknownst to you, he’s standing behind you. You didn’t even hear the back door open and close. But you catch a glimpse of a long, muscular arm reaching past your ear to grab the glass. You’re frozen, your fingers digging into the wooden shelf, unable to turn around and face him, even though you can feel his gaze hot on your skin.

Your plan is shattered, and you have no choice but to come up with an excuse to leave him. You’re combing through scenarios in your mind as you slowly slide down and perch yourself on the countertop, finally facing him. He places the glass on the counter, away from you, and closes the distance between you until the ridges of his clothed abs brush against your knees. His hands are searing against your skin as they rest on your knees and you watch his thumbs trace an obscure pattern with a touch that is featherlight. 

“Your uncle interrupted us,” Toji finally speaks, his voice carrying a hint of hopefulness despite his attempt to maintain a neutral expression. His gaze, so harsh and sharp, is alluring in its own way, tempting you to relax the steady clench of your thighs.

“It probably wasn’t a good idea anyway,” you chuckle, self-deprecation rising to the surface of your skin and prickling against the pores.

“Why not?”

Maybe because you would be too much for him and scare him away? Maybe the fear of being too demanding in bed, of not being able to stop once he kisses you, lingers in your thoughts, making the idea of having him only once and never again infuriating.

“I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want. I’ll get you water and let you sneak away when the fireworks go off because I know you want to…even though you shouldn’t give a fuck about what your family thinks…but I would really like that kiss.”

Analyzing his features, you take in the sincerity reflected in the moss-green of his eyes. It’s a last-ditch effort to make sure something else isn’t hiding there, and you find yourself coming up short.

Slowly, you part your legs for him to stand between. His hands slide up your thighs tantalizingly slow, leaving a trail of fire in their wake before pushing the fabric of your red sundress up to your waist. You try to ignore the way the cool air on your panties does little to quell the heat radiating from them. His hands wrap around your waist and a gasp heaves from your lips when he yanks you to him, your thighs brushing the sides of his thick waist. 

One of the hands on your waist trails up to the side of your neck, gently tilting your head up, so you can look fully at him as his thumb traces the skin of your bottom lip.

“You better make it good,” you challenge, hoping your faux annoyance can mask the anticipation building in your gut.

He sees right through it and simply hums before he leans down to finally seal his lips against yours. He’s a big man, an overwhelming man, and you feel it in his kiss as his lips take every ounce of breath you have in your lungs. He tastes like the pound yellow cake that everyone got to before you could and a hint of beer and it’s the perfect combination that you want more of. 

His hands are under your dress, brushing beneath your thighs for traction and pulling you impossibly closer to the point where you feel your clothed center brush against the zipper of his jeans. You dig your hands into the fabric of his shirt, twisting and silently commanding for him to give you more. You open your mouth to coax him and his tongue is wet and insistent against yours.

You can feel your resolve dissipating in the air, fizzling against the heat that radiates from your body and your self-control is walking on a tightrope, precariously and seconds away from falling. And once it’s gone, you’ll be a woman unhinged.

He yanks you to him again as if its not enough, harder this time with a growl in the back of his throat that makes you gasp into his mouth, then rolls his hips against yours and behind his zipper you feel him hard and bulging and angry and oh—

You pull away with a harsh breath, gasping for air and biting back a moan that gurgles in your throat when his mouth works its way down the skin of your neck. Your skin is sensitive, and it buzzes with the touch of his lips and invokes a fervent need so deep within you that you’re losing awareness of where you are. You’re lightheaded, brain in the fucking stratosphere and you have to lay down, you have to—

He’s guiding you onto your back before you can do it yourself and the cool counter is a balm against the skin of your exposed shoulders and back. He looms over you from his place between your legs, big and muscular and reeking of hunger. 

“Toji,” you try to speak into the air, stifling a whimper at the sight of him stretching out your leg to rest on his shoulder.

One of his large hands caresses the canvas of your calf before you watch his lips kiss your chocolate skin. His rough scar scratches against you in the most delightful way as his mouth kisses up your calf, bends your leg to get closer, and then resumes his touch on the inside of your thigh. His face should be melting with the amount of heat emitting from between your legs, but he must relish in the burn because the second his tongue slides thick and wet against your clothed cunt, you whimper pathetically into the air.

You have just enough common sense to break from the desire to be fucked thoroughly to whisper.

“Toji, we can’t,” you swallow against the dryness in your throat. “Someone could see.”

You can feel the impatience on his body in waves but he has to listen to you. If your family were to walk in here right now to see their niece or cousin being eaten out like a gourmet meal, the Earth would swallow you whole.

“Shit,” he hisses, pulling you into his arms and carrying you out of the kitchen. You don’t care enough to tell him where to go; you’re too hot, too wet in your panties, and your need is twisting at the base of your spine in the most irritating way, begging to be soothed. 

You hear the beginnings of fireworks being popped off in the backyard and your family is loud, thankfully so loud as Toji locks the door to the bathroom and drops you unceremoniously onto the counter. Though the metal of the faucet digs into the small of your back and you fall into the mirror as you clamber to get yourself in order, you can’t bring yourself to care. He’s on you again, all teeth and lips and sinful tongue in your mouth with equally sinful hands digging impatiently into the sides of your panties.

“Take them off,” you demand, practically whining and in less than a second you can only get one leg out before he’s sinking to his knees, eyes wild and shoulders heaving with untamed breaths. 

“God, you’re so fucking wet. So damn pretty,” he whispers in reverence, throwing your legs over his shoulders, and the compliment makes your cunt throb in anticipation.

You can’t be sure if he’s talking to you or himself. Before you can breathe to calm yourself, it’s catching in your throat, hitching against a moan as his tongue licks a long wet stripe up the slit of your dripping cunt. His tongue parts your folds as if it’s the sea, savoring your essence and then sucking your clit into his mouth like it’s the cherry on top and you love it, whine at the feel, eyes crossing and rolling into the back of your head at the exquisite feeling.

He pulls away for a moment, taking a deep breath as if to regain control, and kisses the inside of your thigh before sliding two fingers up your dripping center, collecting your slick before beginning to rub circles on your clit. He’s mesmerized, and you take a moment to marvel at just how little of his green eyes are visible to you, his pupils are dilated with hunger and focused on the way your cunt moves with his fingers.

“Your bitch of an ex ever eat you out?”

You really don’t want to think about him right now, and you also don’t like the thought of someone feeling like they need to prove themselves to you.

But there’s a big man between your thighs who wants to unwrap you like candy. So you shrug, panting softly as you speak, “Every now and then.”

Toji scoffs, eyes seeming to darken like a forest at night.

“Every now and then,” he parrots, voice incredulous as if he’s heard the most insane thing ever, like he can’t believe it.

He increases the pressure on your clit harshly, causing you to buck against him, yelping in satisfied shock when he flicks your sensitive bud hard with his tongue.

“I’ll make you feel good, princess. Don’t you worry.” 

The nickname doesn’t have the effect as before. No, this time you moan in response, your guts churning with satisfaction at the prospect of being worshiped.

Slowly the two fingers on your clit slide into you, testing the waters, gauging if you’re okay, and your jaw slackens at the feel of the stretch. Fingering is an art, an act that requires patience and skill. You have to know the right pace, when to curl, how to know a woman’s body to determine what she wants. It’s glorious when it’s done right. 

And god, does Toji do it right.

He’s thorough and fluid in his strokes, using the tempo of your moans to curl at just the right time and sucking and licking your clit like he’s ravenous and your head is falling back into the space between your shoulder blades, eyes wide with disbelief as you stare at the ceiling. 

The fireworks are consistent outside, popping off every second and it’s loud enough that you have the courage to voice how Toji is making you feel. 

“Every now and then,” he hisses again to himself, angry and curling his fingers a little harder. You jerk against him, whimpering like a fool when you feel his tongue flick your clit harder as a reward. “He’s so fucking stupid. You taste so good, it’s unbelievable.”

He’s curling more now, brushing against that spongy wall that zings heat to your belly. Your insides churn, a molten heat popping to splatter against the base of your spine, pleasure coaxing you to reach that precipice that will let you fall apart. 

Vaguely you hear him whispering words into the skin of your thighs that you can’t decipher, the thrumming in your ears too loud to hear anything else beyond the fireworks outside, your escalating moans, and the obscene sounds of him slurping you up. The muscles in your thighs begin to tighten, your fingers are sweaty as they slide against the cool marble of the bathroom counter, and you dig your wedges into the muscles of his back, white panties dangling off one ankle. He’s so good, so thorough and your breath is hitching, choking on a moan.

“There you go princess, cum all over my fingers. Get me nice and messy.”

His deep words are accompanied by a sharp bend of his fingers and you’re cumming with a shout, rejoicing in the hot pleasure that puddles along your bones. It’s abrupt and overwhelming, pulling a sharp current down your body that makes your back arch until it bumps into the sink behind you. He’s groaning from his place between your legs, still pumping his fingers and licking your clit to collect as much of your slick as he can.

By the time you look down at him, you’re still catching your breath, your thighs tremble from the sudden chill injected into your muscles. You catch Toji just in time to watch him begin to slip his two dripping fingers into his mouth, but you snatch his wrist, riding off the high of your orgasm to slip his digits into your mouth instead. Thin rings of green widen in surprise and you savor the way his cheeks darken as you swirl your tongue around his digits.

“You’re unreal,” he gulps when you pop his fingers out of your mouth.

You shrug, not willing to show him just how powerful you feel, and wrap your legs around his waist, panties still caught on the buckle of one of your wedges. 

“I’m letting you be nice to me, remember? So what’s next?”

With a harsh pull, he stumbles closer to you, his hands slamming against the marble counter on either side of your waist. His breath hitches as you hastily undo his belt, eyes widening as he takes in the way you leer up at him. 

“You got me a drink, defended my honor from my bitchy aunt, asked me about my family, ate my pussy…you wanna fuck me now?”

“I—” he starts, caught off guard by your forwardness.

“You want to bend me over this counter, make me look in the mirror while I take your cock? Smack my ass and make me beg for you to fill me up?”

“You’ve got a mouth on you,” Toji chokes on a nervous laugh, hissing when your fingers graze the sensitive skin above his belt. 

“Is that a problem?”

The hair of his happy trail is faint and dark just like the hair on his head, and your touch makes his stomach bunch in sensation. He shakes his head in response and you want to laugh so bad at the sight of him struggling to swallow. You haven’t done anything to the man, but he’s sensitive to your touch, and that makes the blood in your veins sing.

“If you’re letting me have you, you can have it however you want.”

Arousal hums to life between your legs, and you can’t help but be turned on at how much he’s giving you. You want him now and while the prospect of being fucked over the counter was what you had hoped, if your family comes in and hears you taking it like a champ, you’ll never show your face again.

So when the door to your truck’s backseat closes, you’re climbing back on his lap, relaxing further into him with the knowledge that you can be as noisy as you want. Your uncle has a seven-month supply of fireworks and land in the middle of nowhere, Hennessey, and classics booming from his sound system… it’s going to be loud for a very long time. 

You’re running on your own current of desire at this point, pawing at his shirt so he can finally yank it off his shoulders and you’re drooling. He’s glorious and you don’t hesitate to rub your hands down firm pectorals, between the abs on his torso, and along the musculature of his Adonis belt. He’s cut like a marble statue, something that takes a painstaking process to hammer and smooth over until the result is almost—

“Let me take you out,” he suddenly suggests, voice gravelly with want but insistent.

Huh?

You’re immediately puzzled, eyebrows dipping into a furrow as you try to decipher his words. His hair is wild, black strands splintering and bushy but still giving you a gateway to his eyes and you see that he’s completely serious.

“On…a date?” A lift of his thin eyebrow in reply and the reality of him actually showing interest flags dangerously against your desire to ride him into oblivion. “Just the dopamine talking, I’m sure,” you say, hoping to dismiss the idea. You hadn’t expected him to actually…want to take you out. You can’t think about that right now because your head is too thick with hunger to try and have a conversation.

He hums, low and dangerous, a hand brushing the skin above your clit and you’re reminded of just how wet you still are from his sloppy tongue minutes before. 

“You’re the only one here that’s cum, princess. I’m being serious.”

“It’ll pass,” you reply immediately, licking into his mouth to shut him up.

Thankfully he doesn’t try to interject because you don’t have time to talk right now—you don’t want to. You don’t know Toji, not well enough. While tonight has been one of the most relaxed evenings you’ve spent with a man in a long time, you’re unsure if he genuinely wants you or if he’s merely carried away by the thrill of being with a woman.

He tried to come onto you the minute he laid eyes on you, tried to kiss you after a few hours, and pocketed your panties even though you pretended to be oblivious. You just don’t know. If you had a pretty girl in your lap, you would probably say the same things. Ask her on a date, make her feel wanted so she’s more giving when you slide her panties off.

It’ll pass.

And that’s what you tell yourself when you feel his large hands palm your ass beneath your sundress. You are teeth against him, nipping his tongue, biting the skin of his jaw, the meat of his neck, and the sharp groan that you pull from him in response makes you drip like a bitch in heat against his jeans.

“Take off your pants,” you whisper to him sharply, turning around and leaning over the center console to fish a condom from inside. You had discovered them months ago, and they should have been more than enough for you to dump your ex then.

“Shit,” you hear Toji hiss from behind you before your ass stings from his slap against it. You yelp, jumping from the contact and you hope he can see your cunt pulse from between your thighs in response. “Hurry up, baby.” 

When you face him again, you freeze, eyes widening at the sight of his cock. As you take him in, he snatches the condom from your hand and unfurls it on his cock.

Surprisingly trimmed with dark hair, he’s thick—not enough to be painful—but enough to enjoy the stretch so you can ride him until he flatlines and enjoy the ache in your thighs in the morning. It’s perfect; pale with a red tip that leaks into the tip of the condom, a vein along the side that you can’t lick without tasting latex. It’s a shame.  

He throws you that devilish smirk, eyes twinkling in pride before he taps his thigh and beckons you like the best ride at the carnival.

“Hop on, princess.”

Your fingers grip the hair at his nape when you feel him inside of you. It’s a delicious stretch that you have to breathe through, and the feel of his hands affectionately stroking your back catches you off guard. You don’t hate it; in fact, you want to lean into it, but you don’t want to give him any ammunition for something you aren’t sure about. So you slide down to the hilt and listen to Toji curse sharply through the sudden heat of you before you start a steady rhythm that throws him off.

Within seconds, you increase your pace, riding him with an intensity that makes the air in your throat catch and drag along the sides. He’s got a satisfying curve to him that grazes those magical spots within you to make the grip on his nape tighten like a vice. Your head is foggy with an overpowering mist that makes your mouth loose and your inhibitions low.

“You feel so good,” he whispers, pulling you out of the delirium you were basking in to focus on him. His jaw is relaxed, hot air puffing from between an open mouth and onto the skin of your neck, a few strands of his hair stick to his forehead and the sides of his cheeks and there’s a slight furrow to his thin eyebrows as if he’s trying to concentrate.

You’re giddy with desire. “Let me guess,” you tease, lips brushing against his. “Am I tight?”

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation, eyelids hooded and upper cheeks darkening with a blush that spreads down his neck.

“Am I nice and hot?”

“Yes, fuck yes, baby.” 

It’s meant to tease, because every man that has ever slid inside of you in the past says the same shit, but to hear it from him brings a strange sense of satisfaction that you find yourself slanting your lips against his. He still tastes like the yellow cake that you never got, but the flavor is intertwined with the remnants of your essence that still lingers on his tongue that dances with yours. 

You plant your knees harder into the seat on each side of him, use your muscles to bear down and give you more control, and then you roll your hips, guiding him in and out in a tantalizing dance that elicits groans from him and makes him roll his head back against the headrest.

“Let me take you out,” he gasps into the air and you refuse to answer him—you can’t. It’s harder now to believe his sincerity because he’s delirious with lust. “Answer me.”

You growl softly and yank your hands from his hair to push down the straps of your sundress. You’re not wearing a bra, and he cusses like he just stubbed his toe as he watches your breasts spill free.

“Stop talking,” you whisper and yank his head forward, beckoning him to you and he catches on quickly, licking and sucking a nipple before pulling it into his mouth. The sensation makes you shudder, a gentle pleasure that your cunt appreciates and you pick up your pace on him again. “Stop asking me. Just let me fuck you.”

He bites down in retaliation to pull a squeak from you and licks over the sting in a half-assed apology. When you look down, his gaze is illuminated by the streetlights, a harsh glare that showcases his annoyance with your deflection, but his eyes droop when you squeeze around him in response.

You’re stuffed full of him, stretching along the sides, punching the air out of your throat with each bounce on his cock and your legs begin to burn with the build-up of exertion. Your nipples are wet and sensitive against his taste buds as he teases each peak into his hot mouth and it helps to mix that pot of pleasure in your stomach to life again. 

You can feel it, like a crescendo of waves crashing against a dock, but the waves are coming in quicker and more turbulent with every moan and cry that falls from your lips. You push him off of your chest, dig your fingers into his shoulders for more leverage so you can ride his cock like you have nothing left to lose.

His chest is blooming red, covered in a light sheen of sweat that dips between his pectorals and pools in his collarbones. Your bun of braids came loose when he was eating you out in the bathroom, and now some are heavy on your skin with sweat and plaster over your shoulders and between your sternum and you’re hot and sweaty and trying so hard to reign it in. 

He doesn’t buck up into you and you’re unsure if it’s due to laziness or the fact that he simply wants to watch you while he brings himself closer to climax. You hope it’s the latter. 

“Do you like this?” you pant into his mouth and nip his bottom lip. “You can tell me, you know. Be a good boy and tell me just how I’m making you feel.”

He groans and lands another smack to your ass that makes you gasp and arch further into him. It's the right amount of pain that makes your pussy pulse in response, the right amount of manhandling that can take you higher in a second.

“You’re a natural, princess. You ever ride him like this?”

You shake your head and he smacks your ass again, harder this time and digs his fingertips into the flesh to let the sting linger. It's so good, and you can't help the whine that you puff against his lips as he smirks up at you with a proud disposition.

“He couldn’t handle it. Probably why he cheated wasn’t it? You were too much for him. You know how you like it and he couldn’t deliver.” 

You don’t answer him, but he’s right. He’s so right. He couldn’t stand it when you took control, hated when you asked him to do something that didn’t result in him being dominant, hated when he couldn’t even eat pussy without you having to ask. 

The feel of his fingers on your clit makes you jump and you poke your fingers into his nape again and pick up your pace, panting and moaning like you’re running a marathon as the pleasure rocks inside of you like a pendulum. 

“Oh god. Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you whisper, stomach burning.

You’re fluttering around him—pulsing and clenching and gushing over the thickest cock you’ve ever had and it’s glorious, you’re in fucking heaven.

The streetlight shines faintly into your truck, painting half of Toji’s face. He’s beautiful; that same annoying flicker of desire that captivated you when his green eyes met yours hours ago glimmers thin and dilated.

There’s a ruggedness to him that exudes masculinity, but glimpses into the depths of his eyes reveal a tender vulnerability that makes you wonder how soft he could be if he allowed you to get close enough.

The thought makes your cunt tighten around him, your thighs tense and fill with lactic acid and his fingers on your clit are unceasing, rubbing in a precise rhythm that makes you hiccup on a moan of incredulity. The hand not occupied with your clit is reclined across the headrest behind him and it makes him look unbearably sexy.

“I’ve never had a woman ride me like this,” he whispers, and you smile into his mouth, your kiss messy as you swallow down his compliment. He yanks you away and breathes that same insufferable ask against your lips.

“Let me take you out.” He rubs your clit faster, using the way you tighten around him as a guide to your pleasure, and his hand leaves the headrest to dig into the meat of your ass. “One chance. One dinner. I’ll give you what you deserve, whatever you want, princess. I promise just—”

“Stop it,” you whine and fight the burning sensation in your eyes. You’re so close, so fucking close and the storm inside of you is out of control but he won’t stop fucking talking. Won’t stop being so damn nice even though his cock is rearranging your guts in the nastiest way. You grip his hair and pull him closer to you so there’s no space between you to breathe. “Stop talking. Stop asking. Make yourself useful and make me cum.”

Thankfully he does. He scowls up at you behind the curtain of his hair but pinches your clit and you squeal, rolling your hips, riding him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. The windows have already fogged up, the truck rocks with your movements, and you are consumed with a blissful incoherence that forces you to surrender and let your walls crumble.

Your thighs burn, your dress clings to your sweaty body, and the stimulation on your clit becomes almost unbearable as you whine with the need to cum. He hisses loudly into the car, bares his teeth for a second, and then his eyes roll before he’s slack-jawed and panting into stuffy air, a current of groans beneath.

“That’s it, Toji,” you gasp, voice strained as you teeter on the brink of an orgasm that threatens to overwhelm you. “Be nice to me just like you said and give me everything like the good boy you are.”

The hand not on your clit slips against the sweat on your hips, and you lick up the side of his neck, savoring the salt taste of his perspiration on his smooth skin, just in time to hear him. It’s faint and low, practically a whisper but he chants--

‘Fuck yes, fuck yes. So fucking good. Ride me, sweetheart.’

It’s tilted in a whine, pathetically desperate, but the sound of him does the trick because the flick of his fingers on your clit makes the biggest wave of pleasure crash over you.

You don’t get the chance to tell him you’re cumming, you simply yank his head back from the sudden force, tilt your head up to the ceiling and cum with an exhausted and wrung out ‘fuck!’ that you’re sure your uncle’s neighbors will hear a mile down the road. You’re dumbfounded with pleasure, dizzy with it and your belly is hot and simmering as you gasp and whimper at just how good it feels. 

He’s laying you back on the seat before you can catch your breath. You’re still coming down, still moaning to catch up but his large hands are under your knees and bending them towards your chest to chase his own orgasm. The edge of the seat digs into the crevice of your spine, and your hand flies out to smack against the back of the driver’s seat so you don’t fall but it slips with sweat, is hard to hold onto and you can hardly focus with everything that’s going on. 

His mouth is on you, stealing your breath that you still can’t control, swallowing your moans as he fucks you with a ferocity that pulls your soul from your body. He pulls away with a deep moan and stares down at you with a look that makes you anxious—like he wants to see you again, like he wants to come to another cookout with your rowdy family if it means he can bother you some more—like he really likes you. 

You know he’s going to try and say something that you may not be able to talk yourself out of, so you take the intense furrow in his eyebrows and the stuttering of his hips as a cue.

“You gonna cum?” you purr up at him, moaning weakly from the harsh thrusts that stroke you into overstimulation.

“Yes,” he answers without fail, eyes locked on yours. “Yes, I’m gonna cum. Fuck—”

Reaching up, you cup his cheek, unsure why but feeling an inexplicable need, and the words that fall from your lips help him across the finish line. 

“Cum inside me, Toji. Take what you want and fill me up.”

His eyes widen before they roll closed and he’s slamming against you three times hard and rough before the deepest moan you’ve ever heard slips past his lips. He pants heavily stuttering tiny thrusts into you as he comes down, the tips of his hair drip a few drops of sweat onto your neck before he lowers himself to rest on top of you. He’s too big for the seat and his knee digs into the floor of the truck to maintain his balance. His hot breath washes over your neck, slowly calming down, and in your daze, you realize that you’re holding onto his shoulders. 

The hard lines of Toji that you noted when you first saw him now feel gentle against you.

He rumbles your name into your neck and you’re cutting him off before the dopamine can speak for him. 

“We should get back inside before someone finally notices that we’ve been gone.” He abruptly lifts to look down at you, annoyance etched on his devastatingly handsome face. He wants to argue, you can taste it, but your fear wins. “My bitchy aunt has been at me all night, the last thing I need is her snooping.”

He’s quiet still, the edge of his lips curling into a dissatisfied frown. It stretches his scar in a way that takes away from the beauty of his face. Makes him look more alien and you have to pull your gaze from him. But he doesn’t argue like you think he would. He doesn’t speak or try to talk back or voice how annoyed he is.

He slowly pulls out of you and you immediately miss the feeling, ties off the condom, and pulls you up tenderly from the seat. Your skin is sticky and the truck reeks of sex. The high has worn off and all that remains is the overwhelming unease that rises like bile in the back of your throat. 

When you both are finally dressed and creeping out of the backseat, the cool air is a welcome feel to your overheated skin. It washes away your trepidation, if only for a moment. Toji looms over you, tall like a bear that you desperately want to sink your embrace back into, but he still doesn’t speak, and the crease of annoyance between his brows doesn’t leave. He should hold onto it. It will help him get over you. 

“Do you mind getting my purse from inside the house? I don’t want to go back inside just yet and I need to check my phone.”

Impatience emanates from his every pore, yet you can sense his anxiety as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. But he still doesn’t fight and makes his way back inside without a word.

You lied.

Your purse is in the front seat of your car—you threw it up there when you both snuck into the vehicle in the first place, but his attention was too busy trying to feel you up than pay attention to the satchel hanging off your shoulder. 

Once you see the front door close, you get into the front seat, start your car, and drive away without a second thought. Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly as the temptation to turn back tugs at you. 

It may not be right to leave without saying goodbye, and lying to him has left a bitter taste in your mouth. Your family is too occupied with the fireworks and each other’s company to really notice your absence anyway, and you’re sure they’ll have no problem trying to distract Toji when he realizes that you’re gone. 

The grip on the wheel doesn’t lessen, but you roll down the windows and let the evening July air wash away some of the sex that still lingers on the seats.

***

“So you did fuck him,” your cousin snickers over the speaker of your phone a week later. 

It’s a Saturday night and you’re knee-deep in your wash day routine. It took you all day to take out your braids and the clear shower cap on your head traps the deep conditioner inside. You wipe away some of the excess near your ear.

You have Chinese waiting to be delivered, and you’re ready to finish your routine so you can go to bed. Your eyes are glued to your television playing some sort of nature documentary but your attention is elsewhere, specifically on trying to worm your way out of this conversation with your cousin. She’s called you every single day since the 4th and she’s done nothing but make you feel guilty about your abrupt departure. 

As you expected, your family didn’t really notice your absence. But when Toji asked your cousin for your purse and then realized you had lied, he sulked in a lawn chair for the rest of the night before Shiu drove him home.

“Yes, I fucked him. So what?”

“Soooo do something about it. Fuck him again? He lives in the same city as you and is here indefinitely. Make a move—”

“It was a nice night, but he was already trying to flirt with me as soon as he saw me and I still entertained him and fucked him and—I shouldn’t have done that…I should have waited, maybe tested the waters more. He only tried to ask me out because he was horny as hell.”

She’s quiet on the other line, and you look up at the ceiling in exasperation because you can feel her annoying logic rev up before she fires away.

“So you’re just scared? Your ex cheated on you because he was a spineless pissy boy who slithered away because you didn’t take his shit. That’s not a reflection of you, at all. I know you like to have it all figured out before you make a decision, but not everything works out that way. Toji saw a fine ass black woman who talks her shit and he made a move. He’s a nice guy...a little rough around the edges, but truly…a nice guy. Someone for you.”

James Attenborough elegantly voices something about the cuttlefish on the screen while you try to contemplate what to say. She’s right. You hate that she’s right. It’s why you two are so close but still you retort in the best way you know how.

“Girl, fuck you.”

Her raucous laugh vibrates over the speaker in delight and you snort and roll your eyes when the doorbell cuts you off. The prospect of your Chinese food makes your mouth water and you’re rushing to the door.

Only it’s not your Chinese food at the doorstep, it’s Toji Fushiguro. Toji Fushiguro who is protected from the rain under the overhang of your apartment door with one hand in the pocket of his jacket and the other clutching a container. The annoyed look that you last saw on his face is gone, replaced by a neutral and bored look that seems natural for him, even though his eyes don’t convey that specific emotion. Those green eyes are reminiscent of your uncle’s well-maintained lawn as they look down at you with a nervous glint. 

“Toji,” you breathe in disbelief. “How did you get my address…”

Your cousin squawks on the other line and swallows a giggle. “I’m gonna go—”

“Your cousin finally gave it to me.,” he replies simply and gestures down to the phone in your tight grip. “I’ve been trying to get it since you fucking left.”

“Damn, thanks?!” she barks at him. “Lemme get out of here, I’m getting another call anyway. Bye!”

You’re going to kill her. Slowly. Painfully and maybe in front of Shiu to get a few tears out of him if you’re feeling particularly evil. 

You know she’s right about Toji, but you can’t do this. You shouldn’t have fucked him in the first place and you should have thought of a backup plan on the off chance that your cousin was going to be annoying and nosy as hell.

You ignore his intense and heavy gaze, shifting in discomfort, scratch the back of your neck, and blanch in horror when your fingers brush the edge of your shower cap. You’re wearing a large t-shirt, your feet are bare and your head is covered in a shower cap with deep conditioner leaking from the sides; a stark contrast from the calm and collected woman who snapped at him all day a week ago. Mortification washes over you in a heavy wave, drowning your mantra of not giving a fuck about a man’s opinion, and you step back to grab the door.

“Listen…I’m waiting for food and then I have to get ready for work in the morning. So you need—”

“You have time to spare then,” he cuts off and walks past you. You round on him, indignant in your gaze.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?! Get out, Toji!”

“You want me to leave? Hmm?” he asks, goading you like you don’t know if you’re sure.

You’re not sure, but—“Yes, goddammit! I shouldn’t have left but I don’t do this sort of thing! The moment you met me, you only wanted to get in my pants. And that makes you trying to ask me out while your cock is inside of me, a lot harder to believe!”

He firmly places the container in his hands on your kitchen counter, takes a deep breath to calm himself, and gives you a look that either makes you want to melt into him or slap it off his face.

“Listen—”

You’re on the defensive now, backed into a corner and ready to pull every card you have to just make him go away. “You here for a quick fuck then? Because you got me to let my guard down and because we had such a steamy time in the backseat of my truck, you thought, what? You could just show up and bend me over my couch?”

That flicker of irritation is back on his face and it crinkles the edges of his eyes, makes him look nasty and hostile.

“Fuck, will you stop—”

“Wanna have a little ‘situationship’ while you get acquainted with your new life here? Have me get nice and comfortable and as soon as I ask for something more, you’re jumping ship. Sounds like a good plan, doesn’t it?”

A sharp growl leaves his throat and he glares.

“Girl—” he starts and immediately stops, eyes wide as saucers at the venomous gaze that you shoot his way. There it is, a hint of a name to make you feel small and insignificant. It reminds you of your parents when you used to talk back and they slid the name to you in a warning to stop talking. You hate it and it stings that you have to hear it from him.

“Get out,” you bark, seething with a rage that brings a sting to your eyes. 

He throws up his hands in frustration, looming like a bear from his place in your kitchen. “Will you just stop it!”

“I said—”

“Oh my fucking god—I like you!” 

His admission catches you off guard, cutting through your anger, and you stare at him in astonishment. His face is red with embarrassment, eyes trained up at the ceiling as if asking the gods to give him patience. He takes a deep breath before meeting your gaze from across the kitchen.

“You don’t do this sort of thing?” he asks, gesturing between the two of you. You can’t find the words to respond, still too shocked, so you simply nod. 

“What sort of thing is that? Flirting with you because you looked like the sexiest little thing in that backyard and I wanted your attention?” He’s annoyed, deep voice razor sharp as he speaks, but you don’t miss the step he takes closer to you.

“Me trying to make you feel better because your family is judgmental? Teaching me about the food you like because I’m not from here?”

He’s closer now and the air is thin again just like that night a week ago.

“Helping me win that little card game?” It’s spades, but you’re too lightheaded with how close he is to correct him. “Telling me about your family? What sort of thing is that? Hmm? Tell me.” 

You don’t have a retort. You’re too stunned to speak even though you refuse to let the annoyed expression on your face vanish. You want to hold onto what little shreds of defiance you have left.

“You aren’t mean. You don’t tolerate bullshit, you don’t fuck around, and you put people in their place. You refuse to settle for less, and I already told you that’s what I like in a woman…And I like you.”

What do you even say? You never expected to see him again, and your mind is muddled as if you’re submerged in water. Your heart feels too big in your chest, your body too hot and sweaty and you’re nervous. He’s angry with his confession, almost annoyed and you’re beginning to realize that it is an emotion that’s second nature to him even if it’s not as intense as you think it is. 

“Is that right?” you can’t help but test him, lifting a brow. You have to crane your neck just a little to look up at him.

He scoffs, the crease in his eyebrows smooths out and the scar on his lips twitches. 

“Yea, that's fucking right. So…” he takes one more step closer and his body is brushing against yours. He smells mildly of toothpaste and bergamot from another brand of cheap cologne and the combination makes you weak in the knees. “Let me take you out.”

It’s the same demand that you’ve heard so many times now, but this time, it feels more serious, more meaningful with a hint of desperation. In the kitchen light, you can see just how silky his raven locks are and you grip your phone and the fabric of your t-shirt to resist the urge to run your hands through them. 

“I’m listening,” you jest with a practiced air.

That wicked smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth, scar adding a devilish flair to his features, and your stomach burns with the realization that he’s too cocky for his own good, and you’ve unfortunately grown to like it. 

“Shiu has tickets for something here called…football? He’s taking your cousin and has two extra tickets. Come with me and show me how to win.”

You can’t help the snort that leaves your mouth and your stomach flips at the genuine confusion on his face. “We don’t participate in the game. We watch it. But it’s fun.”

“All the more reason for you to come with me.”

“I…”

It’s a compelling argument, all of it is. And you want to, you really want to give this a shot and just be vulnerable for once. Because Toji seems like the kind of man who would let you be just who you are and would never make you feel lesser than about it. 

The feel of his large hands cupping your cheeks pulls you out of your thoughts, and he tilts your face up to meet his gaze. His eyes are mesmerizing, like the color of pine trees right before the sun sets and you feel yourself weakening completely.

“One date, princess.”

The deep timbre of his voice does little to help you and it’s worse because it’s just how he fucking talks. You’re not a royal, and you don’t have land, lots of money, or power, but you can tolerate ‘princess’ if it’s coming from his mouth. 

Just one date. You deserve it. You’ve earned the reward.

You wave away his hands from your face just so you can breathe a little easier. He chuckles but gives you your space, and makes his way to the door that you usher him towards. 

“Fine. Make sure you bring cash because it’s easier at the concession stands. I want a pretzel…and a hot dog.”

He snickers as he pulls his hood over his head, obscuring most of his face except for the ethereal glow of his eyes. His teeth shine from his bright smile and you roll your eyes in response before watching him open your door. 

“Toji?” you call, your voice softer…apprehensive.

He turns around to watch you shuffle to him, your feet and legs cold against the chill from the open door. You hand him your phone wordlessly and he takes the hint to insert his number. When he’s finished, you open your mouth to speak, lips shaping words that won’t come out—words you want to say. But you can’t. Not yet. Maybe one day.

For now, you throw him an annoyed eyebrow lift and grumble. “Parking is a real bitch, so pick me up early.”

You avert your gaze, frustrated at yourself for sounding so mean as usual. Because that’s just who you are. The bitter, mean—

A finger beneath your chin lifts your gaze to him and he kisses you full on the mouth, slow and reassuring, minty breath sliding into your mouth when he nips your bottom lip. The self-deprecating voice in your head finally quiets, smothered by a pillow held down by his scarred hands.

When he pulls away, that stupid smirk is on his face, but it’s not as teasing, and your heart does something weird in your chest that makes you swallow hard.

“Yes ma’am,” he replies finally to your demand.

You watch his eyes take in your form from head to toe before he kisses you quickly once more and ducks into the rain.

When you finally get your Chinese and place it on the counter to dig in, your eyes land on the container that was in Toji’s hands from earlier. 

You peek inside, and your heart does that weird thing again in your chest when you see a heaping slice of the yellow cake that you never got to have a week ago.

Thanks for reading! You can find the sequel here!

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

[sansaaaaaagirl]

BE MY BABY

Warnings: I actually did this for fun. I'm not a professional.

When I play the song, it's so that you open your fucking Spotify and vibrate like I did when I wrote it.

The bar buzzed with energy as another Saturday night stretched into early morning. It was 3:30 a.m., and the crowd hadn’t thinned much. You maneuvered effortlessly through the rush, pouring drinks and exchanging small talk with customers. Three years as a bartender in Monaco had taught you how to handle everything from impatient patrons to complicated cocktails. You loved the rhythm of it, the mix of chaos and artistry.

Yet tonight, as with every other night for the past seven months, your eyes drifted to a particular corner of the bar.

Charles Leclerc.

The name was one everyone in Monaco knew. A Formula 1 driver with Ferrari, he epitomized the glamour of the city’s elite. But his presence in this tucked-away, unassuming bar always puzzled you. Most of Monaco’s glitterati chose the flashy lounges along the waterfront. This place, hidden within a gallery and catering to locals, seemed out of character for someone like him.

Still, he came regularly, always polite, always composed. He usually sat with a small group of friends or occasionally alone, nursing a drink while observing the room. And though the two of you had exchanged only a handful of words, you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze often lingered on you.

"One Moscow Mule," his voice broke through your thoughts.

Snapping back to the present, you nodded, your hands moving with practiced ease as you prepared his drink. When you placed it in front of him, he looked at the glass for a moment, then up at you. His green eyes held yours just long enough to send a small shiver down your spine.

"Thanks," he said simply, his voice warm.

You offered a polite smile and turned to your next customer, determined not to overthink the exchange.

---

By the time your shift ended at 5 a.m., exhaustion had settled into your bones. The last patrons had trickled out, leaving behind an empty bar and the soft hum of the dishwasher. Following protocol, you exited through the back alley, welcoming the quiet streets after the night’s noise.

As you walked, the sound of footsteps behind you made your heart race. You turned quickly, ready to defend yourself, only to find Charles standing a few feet away.

"Jesus! You scared me!" you exclaimed, clutching your chest.

"Sorry," he said, though the amused curve of his lips suggested he wasn’t entirely repentant. "I couldn’t let you walk home alone."

"Are you drunk?" you asked, skepticism lacing your voice.

He chuckled softly. "Do I seem drunk?"

You narrowed your eyes, still unsure what to make of this unexpected encounter. "Why are you here?"

"Because I care," he said, his tone earnest. "It’s late, and it’s not safe for you to walk home alone."

"Monaco’s one of the safest places in the world," you replied. "And my apartment isn’t far."

"Still," he insisted, "let me walk you. Please."

There was something disarming about his sincerity, and though every instinct told you to say no, you found yourself nodding.

---

The walk was slow and quiet at first, the streets of Monaco bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. Charles walked beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket.

"So," he began, breaking the silence, "how did you end up working at that bar?"

You hesitated, unsure why you felt the need to share. "I moved here three years ago," you said eventually. "It was supposed to be temporary—a chance to start fresh after some… setbacks. But I ended up staying. The bar became a kind of home."

"Setbacks?" he prompted gently.

You glanced at him, debating how much to reveal. "Let’s just say life didn’t go as planned. I needed a change, and Monaco seemed like a good place to start over."

Charles nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I can understand that. People think my life is perfect, but… it’s not always easy."

"Really?" you asked, genuinely curious. "From the outside, it looks like you have it all."

He smiled faintly. "Appearances can be deceiving. The pressure, the expectations… sometimes it feels like I’m living for everyone else."

The vulnerability in his words surprised you. For the first time, he seemed less like the untouchable star and more like someone who understood struggle.

By the time you reached your building, the sky was beginning to lighten, streaks of pink and orange painting the horizon. You hesitated at the entrance, reluctant to end the conversation.

"Do you want to see the sunrise?" you asked on impulse.

Charles’s face lit up with a smile. "I’d like that."

---

The rooftop offered a stunning view of Monaco’s coastline, the first rays of sunlight glinting off the water. You sat side by side, knees drawn to your chest as the city woke around you.

"It’s beautiful," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Not as beautiful as this moment," Charles said softly.

You turned to find him watching you, his expression open and unguarded. Your breath hitched as he leaned closer, his hand brushing against yours.

"Is this okay?" he asked, his voice low.

You nodded, and he closed the distance, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was tender and unhurried. The world seemed to fade, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the soft glow of the rising sun.

When the kiss ended, he rested his forehead against yours, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Maybe I’ll have to come to your bar more often," he teased.

"Maybe you will," you replied, your cheeks flushing as the sun climbed higher, bathing Monaco—and your heart—in light.

---

Over the next few weeks, Charles became a more frequent visitor, not just to the bar but to your life. He’d sit at the counter, asking about your day, sharing stories from his races, and slowly weaving himself into your world.

What started as quiet companionship grew into something deeper—a connection built on late-night conversations, stolen moments, and a mutual understanding of what it meant to start over.

And as the days turned into months, you found that Monaco, once a place of escape, had become home in a way you never expected—because now, it wasn’t just a city. It was the place where you had found him.

[enkas-illusion]

The Worst Kept Secret

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

Rating: NSFW/Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Genre/Theme: Co-workers to lovers; non-sorcery au

Content warning: fluff but not too much, smut, oral (f & m receiving), piv sex, dom!Toji, sub!reader, overstimulation, unprotected sex, explicit sexual content, language, Toji has a filthy mouth.

Summary: Your colleague Toji only has eyes for you, despite having a reputation of sorts. Porn with a plot… or more like a build up.

Author's Note: Co-worker Toji is instantly attractive cause a) he’s not a bum and b) he’s Toji-fucking-Fushiguro – that’s all in my defence, your honour! This shit is nasty… no, I won’t explain myself (I'm pretty sure i was possessed while writing this). 

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one shot, please write to me and let me know your thoughts. I love reading whenever people have elaborate things to say T.T Thank you for reading! 

-Eren’s Birdie

Song Dedication: Talk by Hozier

“Rat!” you exclaim as you hold your phone up to display the word written boldly on the screen.

“Ummm…. It’s not a rat, it's not a patootie, it’s a ratatouille!” your coworker, Lisa, blurts out excitedly.

You both look at each other, trying your best to control before you burst out laughing. This goes on for about a minute till your bellies hurt and you’re wheezing. You quiet down as you wipe the tears forming in the corner of your eyes. 

“Why don’t I know that one?” your other coworker, Ema, mutters with furrowed eyebrows, confused at what could possibly be so funny about the sentence.

You’re too drunk to realise that sober you would not find it as funny as you do right now. But that’s what happens when you party a little too hard with your coworkers on a work trip and then hang around the hotel bar because nobody wants to go to bed even at 3am.

You look around at the handful of your coworkers, randomly occupying different spots at the bar, all too dazed and into their own conversations to pay attention to the stupid game that the three of you were currently playing – A word game your genius minds had developed, using a random word generator app and use it in a meme-able sentence.

“Oh god… next word. Feminism!” Lisa squeals, snatching your phone from you to generate the word for your turn.

“Fuck… I suddenly can’t think of anything,” you admit and giggle, trying hard to work your brain.

“Seriously…” 

“Wait, Wait… I need a few seconds,” you laugh, trying to save yourself. You look around and your eyes land on your office crush, Toji Fushiguro, sitting at the bar with your boss, Kento Nanami. 

You look back to your group with a determined look in your eyes, ready with your sentence. “I want him to do things to me that feminism wouldn’t agree with,” you giggle like a teenager, “hah! I’m a genius.”

However, your friends have fixated on something else entirely, ignoring your perfect answer, since their eyes follow your line of vision to the bar. “So, what’s the scene?” Ema looks back at you.

“It's your turn, next word–”

“Nah, we’re bored… this is far more interesting,” her eyebrows wiggle, as she scoots closer to you on the sofa. By the looks of it, Lisa has also forgotten about the game in a second. You realise you’ve dug this hole for yourself, yet you don’t mind sharing a drunk confession with your friends.

“Let’s head out for a smoke,” you get up from the sofa. Lisa is quick to grab her purse as both your friends spring up, hurrying to happily follow you out onto the secluded porch outside, ready for gossip.

As you light up your cigarette, Ema looks at you expectantly. Looking at her face makes you snort and you cough out the smoke before speaking, “Have some patience! Besides, there's nothing too juicy about this gossip.”

“Pleaseeee, literally everyone saw the way Toji was glaring at the man who asked you for a dance tonight… not gonna lie, he looked kinda hot when he got mad,” Lisa catches your lie as she fawns over Toji, something that has become a regular thing among the female coworkers at the company. 

“I know right? And I said no to the guy! What was he so pissed about anyway?” you protest.

“It's all because you agreed when the dude was like ‘at least let me buy you a drink sweetie’!” Ema imitates the stranger from the bar from hours ago.

“Hey! Who says no to free drinks?” you defend yourself.

“Okay, fair,” Lisa nods her head before realising, “aye, focus on the matter at hand! Why did you say no to the guy? He was cute.”

“Was he really though?” you retort.

“Yeah, like you’d notice anyone else when Toji's around… Please fuck him, I need some office drama!” Lisa snaps back before taking a long drag from her cigarette. 

“Yea right… I’m serious though,” you ponder between slow drags, “I doubt anything is going to happen between Toji and I.”

“Why not?!” Ema whines and you laugh at how it seems like they’re more desperate about this whole thing than you are.

“Need I remind you I literally just got out of a relationship? This is no time to be having stupid crushes. I need some alone time… besides you know how his reputation is. Sure, he flirts with me and I enjoy it a lot but I don't know,” you explain as if it’s an automated response stored in you.

“So what? Then just fuck him and get it over with. They say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone!” Lisa giggles, “Besidesss, I've heard he’s really good in bed… heard it from a mutual– uhhh, I don't really remember her name.”

“Oh wait, shit I remember that!” Ema squeals, almost dropping the cigarette from her hand in excitement, “But didn’t she also say that he basically ghosted her after? He just fucks around, I guess.”

“Hence the reputation… Men like Toji are the most charming kind. They know exactly what to say to get you to sleep with them but disappear when it comes to commitment,” Lisa ponders, staring into the distance.

“Exactly, everyone says that Toji doesn’t do relationships. And as horny and curious as I might be, I don’t just want us to fuck and leave it at that. It’d be way too awkward to have such a dynamic at the workplace,” you reason and they simply nod. There’s a beat of silence as all three of you smoke quietly.

“Still though… would it be so bad to just give it a shot? Simply see it as a one night stand and get it over with? If he’s that indifferent about it, I doubt it’d be awkward at work,” Lisa presses.

“I know right! I dont get why you’re thinking so much about it. At least the sex would be killer even if nothing else is assured,” Ema advises.

You take another big drag before dropping the bud to the ground and crushing it with your heel, “Hmmm… that’s true, I’ll think about it.”

“Think soon and try to seduce him in the three days we have here!” Lisa squeezes your shoulder encouragingly. 

“Yes! If you don’t want to, please allow me to! He looked so delicious yesterday,” Ema sighs and by the look on her face, you can tell she’s probably recalling memories of a shirtless Toji playing volleyball at the beach from yesterday. 

“Be my guest… but do it tomorrow, you’ve had a lot to drink tonight,” you snort.

“Please, drunk or sober, if there is one hook up I wouldn’t regret, it’d be him… after our boss of course,” Ema confesses.

“Yeah right. Either of us could still have a shot with Kento. Toji only flirts back with you,” Lisa looks at you with narrowed eyes.

You laugh before a sudden chill runs down your spine, and you cuss at the feeling, “Motherfucker– Should’ve gotten a coat. It's getting cold.”

Your coworkers eye each other mischievously before Lisa snickers, “Why don’t you ask loverboy to help you with it instead? That way you’d be warm inside out.”

“Oh yeah, great idea! Let me go back inside to find him–” you cut off when you see a figure walking outside towards your group.

You signal Ema, who has her back turned to the encroaching new presence, to shut up but it's too late as she fake moans, “Exactly… I’m sure he’d love to indulge you, he’d basically been eye-banging you all night, harder Toji, fuck yea–” 

“HEY TOJI! What’s up!” you’re basically shouting at the guy when he’s a few feet away, hoping to cover up and save yourself.

Maybe he senses your embarrassment, or maybe he didn’t hear her (hopefully) but he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead he greets the group and there’s an awfully awkward feeling in the air.

“Ladies,” he speaks coolly as he stands next to you, “Glad I found you here since boss man was looking for you two.” 

“Kento?!” Ema’s ears shoot up at his sentence as she exchanges a grin with Lisa. They rush ahead inside and as you are about to follow them, you feel a hand on your wrist holding you back. You turn to look at him with a confused frown.

“Where do you think you’re going? I was just getting rid of the two of them,” he smirks, making you look at his pillowy lips. 

When he catches you staring, you look down quickly, tugging a strand of your hair behind your ear nervously, “Oh… So, Kento wasn’t really looking for them?”

“Nope.”

“Oh… that’s– they’re gonna be disappointed,” you chuckle lightly as you fidget with your phone’s cover.

“Well, sucks for them, I guess,” he holds two fingers under your chin to make you look up at him, “You look pretty… you usually do, but even more so in that tiny dress.”

Your eyes grow wide at his confession as you feel the heat rush to your cheeks and you mutter a quiet ‘thank you’. You move to the front of the porch as you stare out at the vast night sky, partly to avoid feeling so mushy and partly because you feel the alcohol toying with your nerves. 

Another chill rushes down your spine and you’re pretty sure it makes you shiver visibly. As you mutter a quiet ‘fuck’, you feel him wrap his denim jacket around your shoulders. Your eyes widen at him in surprise.

“What? I’m a gentleman,” he teases, standing closer next to you. You laugh at this, turning to face him as you shake your head.

“Sure… a gentleman with a reputation,” you roll your eyes as you wrap your arms around your torso in an attempt to keep yourself warm. What you don’t realise is that this action further pushes your boobs together, causing Toji’s eyes to wander down briefly before he looks back into your eyes again.

“Aren’t you ever curious to know if I live up to that reputation?” he raises an eyebrow as he leans down closer to your face.

“Hmm, sure… if you were a stranger at a club and not someone who I had to see at work 9 hours a day, 5 days a week,” you roll your eyes at him as you bring up one hand to slowly run a finger down his shoulder to the outline of his bicep.

“Well, we see each other everyday anyway, so why not turn it into something we actively look forward to,” his fingers graze your jawline softly while his eyes shamelessly fixate on the dip of your cleavage, giving him a better view from the way he’s towering over you.

“As tempting as that is… I don’t do one night stands Toji–”

“Who said anything about just one night?” he interrupts and you tilt your head to the side in confusion, “I’m not stupid to approach someone I work with if I was simply looking for a quick fuck.”

“Oh… then please tell me what exactly you’re looking for?” you speak softly but it comes out more arrogantly than you’d like.

“You. I intend to fuck you more than once.” he’s direct yet his calm demeanour never wavers. 

You let out a nervous chuckle, “Look Toji… you’re hot, charming and oddly easy to get along with but I just got out of a relationship, it’s barely been two months–”

“I know… his loss for letting such a sweet thing go. Didn’t he initiate the break up? What a loser,” Toji laughs as his hand cups your face. 

You simply stare at him in bewilderment, you had no idea the news of your breakup had travelled even to the non-gossipers.

“Why me?” you ask, your curiosity getting the best of you.

“For starters, you’re hot. Two, I like it when we hang out outside of work, you put me at ease with your conversations. Three, I haven’t been able to hook up with anyone else for about a month since I found out about your ex… such a pretty girl should be cherished the way she deserves to be,” his fingers slide down to your collarbone, threatening to dip down even lower.

“Hmm… that’s a good enough pitch, so you want us to be fuck buddies? Exclusively?” you play with the collar of his shirt, entertaining the idea.

“Yeah, I’m not one to share,” his other hand comes up to brush his thumb against your bottom lip.

“Nothing serious?” you pout at him with fake disappointment.

“Not until the both of us feel like it,” he dips his thumb inside your mouth while his other hand snaked around your waist. You suck on his thumb as you stare into his eyes and he feels his blood rush straight to his cock.

“I can work with that,” you give him an innocent smile, “But let’s not be too obvious about it, I’d hate for our little arrangement to mess with our work life.”

“Perfect,” he smiles as he cups your jaw, staring at your lips while sliding his tongue over his lips to wet them instinctively.

Just as he’s about to lean down to kiss you, you pull back when you hear distant footsteps approaching. You see your two friends walking back towards you, talking among themselves.

“Hey, we couldn’t find Kento at the bar,” Ema mumbles.

“Really? He must’ve gone back to his room. Maybe ask him about it tomorrow,” Toji speaks innocently and you press your lips together to keep yourself from laughing.

You see Ema eyeing the jacket you’re wearing suspiciously and you suddenly take it off to hand it to Toji.

“Keep it. You’ll get cold again… return it tomorrow morning.” Toji speaks before you have a chance to give it back to him. You nod as you hold it closer to your chest.

“Alright then. Good night ladies,” he smiles politely before walking back inside. When your eyes shift from his diminishing silhouette to your two friends, they’re both staring at you with hopeful eyes.

“Nothing happened!” you exclaim and their faces drop.

“Fine, that’s it! I’m calling dibs, I’m gonna flirt with him,” Ema retorts. You simply chuckle and shrug, diverting your attention to your phone when it vibrates in your hand. You look at the notification and it’s a text from Toji.

Toji (Work):

Room no. 9010

Don’t leave me hanging, pretty

You lock your phone quickly as you look up again to force yourself to focus on the conversation.

“Could you not get the bottle from the cute bartender? We could’ve taken it to the room,” Ema sighs.

“No but I gave him my room number soooo…” Lisa giggles.

“Guys, I’m feeling a bit too drunk and tired to continue so I’m just gonna go to my room and sleep, okay?” you make up an excuse, hoping it seems believable. However, the girls are too drunk to analyse your lies and they simply pout and bid you ‘goodnight’ in a singsong voice, giving you a group hug.

You quickly make your way to the elevator and press the button to the ninth floor. And although you’re wearing his jacket again, you still feel your body shiver. You take a deep breath when you hear a ding, signalling your arrival. You walk out into the long passage quietly, skimming over the numbers till you spot his room, your heart feeling like it's about to fall out of your chest due to the thrill.

You knock on the door twice and fix your hair nervously. When no one answers, you unlock your phone to call him. You almost let out a scream when you hear the door unlock and he pulls you inside, catching you by surprise and making you stumble.

Before you have a chance to speak, Toji slams the door shut behind you, pushing your body against it before kissing you hungrily. You place your hands on his chest, creasing the fabric as you pull at it, humming into the kiss when his tongue shoves into your mouth. You close your eyes, the fluttering in your stomach making its way down to your core as his tongue plays with yours, making wet smooching sounds in the otherwise quiet room.

“I think you’ve misunderstood this. I’m simply here to return your jacket,” you tease, huffing as you catch your breath when your lips part. He smirks as he slides the jacket off your body till it pools near your feet before caging you against his body with his arms locking around your waist.

“Of course, this is me simply thanking you for returning it,” he moves one hand lower till it’s massaging the flesh of your thigh just below where the fabric of your dress ends.

“Oh, you’re welcome,” you give him another innocent smile as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull his head down for another kiss. 

His hands lift up your dress to your stomach before going back down to squeeze your ass. He deepens the kiss as he towers over you, making you arch your back, causing you to hook your arms around him to keep your balance.

When you break the kiss for another shallow breath, he moves to your jaw, biting and pulling your skin with his teeth as he makes his way down to your neck. You tilt your head to give him more access, letting out soft sighs as he leaves sloppy kisses all over the expanse of your neck.

While his left hand hooks around your waist to keep you steady, he brings his right hand over to your mound, pressing the sticky lace of your thong into your folds. When he feels how wet you are, he groans against your skin, biting it again.

He rubs over the fabric again and you moan out of frustration, he's so close yet there's a tiny barrier between. You try to grind against his hand, whining when he pulls away.

He gets down on his knees before you can complain and lifts your right leg over his shoulder, securing it in place. You lean your whole weight against the door, feeling like you'd fall if you didn’t have something solid to hold onto, so your hands make their way down to tug at his hair.

Toji hooks two fingers into the lace, pulling the fabric to the side to expose your puffy folds to him. He slowly slides two fingers over to separate them, your wetness coating the tips of his fingers immediately. 

“Knew you had a pretty cunt,” he murmurs as his eyes remain fixed on the way his fingers are working you. You let out a breathy moan, tightening your grip on his hair.

He brings his face closer to your core, peppering the entire area with soft kisses. You thrust forward into his face but it only makes him slap the inside of your right thigh harshly.

“Toji… please, stop teasin– ngh,” you plead but your words get caught in your throat when he licks a stripe up your cunt like it's a melting ice cream. He darts his tongue out to wiggle it over your clit and your legs feel as if they're about to snap and go limp.

“Toji– wait… I n-need to take off my heels,” you huff.

“No. They stay on,” is all he says before sliding two fingers into your hole with ease, and at the same time getting back to making out with your clit.

“Fuck– Toji please– ah,” your straight knee buckles forward as you yank at his hair some more to steady yourself. You let out an involuntary yelp when he lifts your other leg over his shoulder as well, burying his face into your pussy, hooking both his arms around your thighs. While this angle hits better, you feel a different kind of thrill about completely having given up control and trusting him not to drop you to the floor.

As you lean your head against the door, your hips rut further into his face and Toji doesn’t relent even for a second. As you hook your feet behind his neck, he brings his right hand down to your hole again, pushing three fingers in this time, meeting with a bit of resistance. The squelching sound of his fingers fucking your hole mixes with the sound of his lips sucking your clit.

“Feel s-so good,” you pant as your thighs twitch around his face. You shaky hands run through his hair weakly as you try to steady your ragged breathing. Each time Toji hits the right spot inside your walls, you moan out praises and encouragement for him to keep going.

He curls his fingers as he picks up the pace and it's brutal. You hold his hair so tight that you hear him hiss momentary before getting back to fucking you with his tongue.

You close your eyes shut as your hip involuntary thrusts forward, twitching uncontrollably as you come all over his fingers. You bite your tongue to control your moans, turning them into muffled whimpers instead. He pulls his hand out to hook it back around your thigh as his tongue starts lapping at your juices to lick you clean.

“Ngh– Toji, too much!” You squeal as you try to move your hips away from his touch but it causes him to poke his tongue out further over your sensitive skin.

“God– please, baby I can’t take it anymore,” you cry as your body jerks violently again. You hear him chuckle before kissing your clit one last time and pulling your legs off his shoulders and standing up again.

When you land on your feet, you're glad he’s holding your waist to keep you from crashing to the ground. He kisses you on your lips and you taste yourself on his tongue. It's enough to take your already intoxicated mind to a new level of high.

He slowly lets you go before stepping back to create distance as he hurriedly takes off his clothes and your eyes widen when you see the way his erect dick hangs low and heavy.

He grabs a condom from his wallet, tearing off the cover before sliding the rubber over his hung cock smoothly. The smug smile on his face grows wider when your eyes peel away from his dick to meet his gaze. You stare at him with a look of astonishment mixed with nervousness. 

“Toji… you're–” you whisper silently. Toji is blessed to say the least.

“It's okay, don't be scared, pretty. I'll make it fit perfectly,” he cooes as he closes the distance between your bodies.

You gulp when he pressed his hands on either side of you, caging you against the door. As he's kissing your shoulder, his hands move to your back to undo your zip. He struggles a bit, fiddling with the zip of your dress and you’re pretty sure you hear a rip when he grows impatient, tugging at the fabric harshly.

“Did you jus–”

“Shh… later,” he blurts out, not giving you a chance to complain as he pulls the dress down your body, unhooking your bra to yank it down. He quickly takes off your thong as well, leaving you exposed as you stand in front of him in only your heels.

“So much better than what I had imagined,” he stares at your naked figure hungrily and you pull him closer to kiss him once again, already missing the way his lips feel.

You wrap your hands around his torso to feel his muscular back with your fingers, growing wetter at how huge his body feels compared to yours. He pulls away to lean down, latching his mouth onto one of your nipples. 

You let out a satisfied hum and he repeats the action on your other nipple. Your eyebrows furrow as your back arches at the sensation and you weakly claw at his pecs.

“Fuck– I can't wait any longer… Just let me know if it hurts too much,” he groans as he scoots you up off the floor completely, hooking your knees over his elbows, opening you up wider as he readjusts his pelvis under you.

You bring a hand down to guide his tip to your entrance, sucking in a deep breath as you look down, anticipating his movement as he begins pushing his dick inside you. 

With your legs spread apart firmly, he presses his hips up, almost losing his shit at how tight you feel. You bring both of your hands up to hug them around his neck. You steady yourself, resting your cheek onto his shoulder briefly when you feel his movement come to a halt. You feel so full, there's a delicious ache in your lower belly.

“Shit– I'm gonna move now, okay?” he grunts. You simply nod your head as he grabs you by your sides to push your lower body away till only his tip is inside before pulling you in closer to fill you up again.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head while your mouth hangs open when Toji begins to slam you onto his hard length, repeating the motion over and over again as you let out broken cries of his name. When he picks up speed, your pussy flutters at the abnormal feeling, causing him to pounce into you harder.

“Oh god– nghh– Toji!” You cry into the crook of his neck.

“Mmh– look at me, let me see that pretty face,” he orders breathily. You pull away from his neck reluctantly, eyebrows still knitted as your lips stay fixed in a silent O shape.

“Look at how well you take my cock… ‘ts a perfect fit,” he hisses when your pussy squeezes him again at his words. You'd always thought that Toji would be the silent type, just like he was at the office, but seeing him spew such vile praises just adds more to the intensity of it all.

“Fuck– Toj–” you whimper as you rest your forehead against his.

‘Hmm? Yes, pretty? Cock got your tongue?” He laughs but it's strained. You tilt your head to kiss him on the lips and he shoves his tongue into your mouth to kiss you back hungrily. You moan into the kiss when he thrusts harder. In a swift motion he pulls away from the kiss, dropping your legs to the ground as he pulls out of you to turn you around.

He pulls your hips back to meet his, while pushing your face flush against the door to arch your back for him. He slides back into your hole in an instant, rutting into you from behind. Your hands press against the surface of the door while he grips onto your hips tighter to keep them from jerking forward due to the force.

You bring your left hand down to rub your clit, the pressure building up further as you get closer to your release. Toji leans forward to press his chest against your back, hooking his hand down to swat yours away. Instead, he replaces it with his fingers to toy with your clit and it feels so much better than your own dainty ones.

When your legs start to shiver as the pressure in your stomach builds up, Toji brings his other hand to intertwine his fingers with yours, pushing your chest further into the door.

With the way you're screaming his name, you're pretty sure anyone passing by outside can hear you. You wonder if that's the reason he's doing it, to show people just how good he's fucking you.

“Toji fuck– I'm coming– fuck!” You cry as your legs shake as you cum hard, threatening to give out, not being able to hold your weight. Despite wanting to finish himself, obsessed over how your pussy is sucking him in, he knows it'll be a bit too much for you to handle at the moment. So, he slows down as he secures one hand around your waist before pulling out completely. 

He turns you around till you're facing him, taking deep breaths to calm your breathing. He bends down to swing your body over his shoulder with ease as if you weigh nothing at all. He walks over to the bed before slamming you back down onto the soft mattress. 

He gives you another cocky smile, proud of how deliciously fucked you look. You recognize this look and just as he's about to lean forward to make his way to you on the mattress, you place one foot onto his chest as the heel digs into his skin.

“Time out… you’re too much,” you sigh and he lets out a snort.

“Better get used to it,” he smiles as he brings his hands up to take off your stiletto, tossing it on the floor before bringing your other leg up to take off the other pair. 

He holds both your feet firmly, pushing them into your torso till you're practically folded in half as he brings one hand down to rub your swollen clit.

“No,” you turn to the side to get out of the position before sitting up straight, looking at his still erect cock in front of you. You lean closer to him as your hand wraps around the length, “Let me make you feel good.”

You roll the condom down before discarding it to the side, leaning forward to kiss his tip, swirling your tongue around the angry swollen head before licking a strip up his shaft. When you open your mouth wide, he grabs his length to tap it on your tongue a few times before you wrap your lips around the thick head. You make eye contact with him as you take in more of him, letting your mouth adjust to his size slowly. He mutters a quiet ‘fuck’ while grabbing the back of your head to push it closer. You gag before you can even take his entire length in your mouth, tears slipping out the corners of your eyes.

“Yes, right there… such a pretty mouth. Come on, I know you can take some– ugh— more,” he grunts and you relax your mouth to deep-throat him.

As Toji lets out breathy cusses, you move a hand down to massage his balls. Your other hand moves between your legs to part your folds and rub soft circles. This doesn’t go unnoticed by the man and you see a mischievous smile creep up on his face.

“Let go, babe,” he smiles while firmly pulling at your hair. You move your head back and you can already feel your throat aching as it readjusts to the emptiness. You’re still stimulating his tip with kitten licks, lapping at the precum, all the while touching yourself desperately.

Toji grabs both of your wrists as he pushes you back up on the bed, climbing up before lying on his back. As you await his instructions, you’re confused when he signals you to sit on his face. You hesitantly straddle his chest but it all makes sense when he tells you to turn around. You giggle as the heat rushes to your cheeks as you lie face-down on top of him to sixty-nine him.

“Now, stop being so greedy and focus on sucking my dick,” he speaks as he pulls at your asscheeks to part them, parting your folds with his tongue. Your toes curl in as you lean down to take him in your mouth once again.

As you bob your head up and down, sucking his entire length, his groans vibrate against your pussy as he eats you out just as fervently.

You steady your hands on his thighs as the muscles flex and relax every time his tip kisses the back of your throat. You close your eyes to focus on your movement as it gets harder and harder with Toji slurping at your pussy ruthlessly.

When you bring your hands over to play with his balls, it has him unravelling quickly. After edging himself unintentionally the whole night, he can’t help but feel like this is the tipping point.

“Do you– mmh– mind swallowing?” His voice is strained. You shake your head no, not parting from his cock even for a second. His nails dig into the flesh of your ass as thoughts of you flood his mind.

He can’t help but feel his pride swell that he's the one who gets to ravage his seemingly innocent co-worker like this. As if it weren’t already hard enough, imagining the things he’d do to you when he saw you at the office – now he had actual memories in flesh to make it harder.

Two months ago, he wouldn’t have imagined you'd be going dumb over his dick this way. Your interactions had always been respectful, despite him flirting with you occasionally. It was only about a month ago that you took him by surprise when you give a witty reply,  flirting back with him.

Toji knew a thing or two about breakups, so when he subtly inquired and eavesdropped in conversations around the office, he heard your loudmouth friend talk about how sad it was that your ex had the audacity to dump you when you clearly were out of his league.

Sad indeed, Toji thought, wanting nothing more than to finally get to fuck his pretty colleague. But when you both were assigned on a project together about three weeks ago, the flirting had gotten out of hand and your talks were no longer just a few words exchanged out of courtesy. Toji knew he wasn't made for relationships but a part of him wanted to make you his and greedily keep you to him.

As he enjoys the way you’re sucking his dick with your pretty pussy fluttering under his touch, his desire to have you has only grown stronger.

He leans his head back when he feels himself shoot his load into your mouth, his dick twitching as he feels you lick and struggle to swallow him.

“Fucking hell–” he sighs, kneading the flesh of your ass lazily. When he feels the weight of your body lift up, he grabs your waist to pull your ass back to hover it over his face.

“Where do you think you're going?” He huffs and before you can answer, he's eating you out at a faster pace than before. You already feel overstimulated as is but when Toji pushes two fingers inside, it turns you into a blabbering mess.

You arch your back as you lean forward with your fingers denting the skin over his abdomen. You grind your hips to feel his tongue on your cunt. Your head hangs limply when you cum once again on his tongue and Toji continues to slurp at your juices.

You body twitches violently and you beg him to slow down. He chuckles as he licks you clean before placing a quick kiss over your folds, relaxing his grip to let you get off.

You roll over to the side till you're lying on your back, your chest heaving as you take deep breaths. You look down when you feel a hand on your shin. He smiles lazily at you as he caresses your skin. You smile back before closing your eyes to relax, but open them back again when you feel the mattress dip as the figure beside you shifts.

You find Toji caging you with his arms on either side of your head as he leans down to kiss your lips. You close your eyes, humming into the kiss. He dips his head down to give you another mark on your neck, bringing one hand down to play with your nipples.

“Let me rest!” you push his chest but it doesn't faze him at all.

“Okay fine,” he laughs, “I'm only going easy on you cause it's our first time.”

“Easy? You really live up to your reputation,” you stare at him in disbelief. This makes him laugh and it’s the first time you hear his real laughter and not the smug, cocky chuckles of usual. You grin when you feel a warm fuzzy feeling in your heart, maybe Toji Fushiguro has more to him than he lets on.

He creates some space between you when he gets off and before you can ask him what he's doing, he lifts you up in his arms to carry you to the bathroom. 

When he sits you down on the sink counter to run the hot water tap to fill up the tub, you giggle.

“What?” He walks back to you.

“Nothing… just… Now, I get why women apparently call you unforgettable,” you mumble, trying hard not to blush.

“I don't do this for them,” he shrugs. You roll your eyes at him, not believing his words.

He chuckles, “I'm serious! I don’t fuck around… much. It's not a communal dick.”

“Oh really? What have I done to deserve such special treatment?” You tease.

“If I want to keep seeing you, I have to make you want to see me again too,” he smiles, leaning closer till he’s standing between your parted legs, brushing a finger over your lips.

“I think you guaranteed that right after you made me come the first time,” you laugh.

“That easy? Why's that?”

You shake your head no and he raises an eyebrow, urging you to speak.

“Well… if you must know, I rarely came with my ex. He said he got tired quickly so often I'd finish myself off in the shower later,” you confess, feeling a bit embarrassed at admitting this to him.

“Damn. What a fucking loser,” Toji chuckles dryly as he lazily rubs soft circles on your inner thighs, “Well, I'm glad he sucked. It really was time for an upgrade.”

You laugh as you play with the hair on his nape. You wonder out loud, “Have you ever thought about anyone else from the office?”

“Like who? You’re the only one there who I’d get blue balls for,” he laughs.

“Seriously? Not even Ema or Lisa? They’re pretty hot,” you push.

“Not my type.”

“Hmm”

“Why do you ask?”

“Nothing… just…”

“They’re painfully obvious about their crush if that’s what you’re asking,” he lets out another dry chuckle as he brushes your loose strands to the side, “Well they won't bother from tomorrow.”

“Why's that?” your eyebrows furrow.

“Unless you have a top that covers your entire neck, they’re going to figure shit out instantly,” he smirks as he traces the light red/purple bruises on your neck. You twist to the side to look at your reflection in the mirror.

Your eyes widen as you gasp, “Toji! How am I going to cover these?”

“Maybe don't... it doesn’t matter if they find out– maybe that way the gossip will reach your loser ex and he’ll know just how well I take care of you,” he teases, nuzzling his nose into your neck.

“God, you’re obsessed,” you giggle as you slap his chest lightly.

“Hmm, maybe. Told you I'm not one to share… especially not when your pussy tastes so good,” he kisses down your body till his face is in front of your core again. 

“I never said yes to our little arrangement… I can always back out,” you tease but your breath hitches when he presses his tongue to your core once again.

“Hmm, maybe I need to try my best to convince you then,” he nibbles and you instinctively tangle your fingers into his hair, closing your eyes as you enjoy the way Toji fucks you with his tongue once again.

“Toji… the bathtub,” you sigh when you hear the water overflow. Toji pulls away, holding his hand out and pulling you to the bathtub. Once in, he closes the tap and turns you around till your back is flush against his chest. He kisses your shoulder from behind when you're nestled against his broad torso.

As you straddle his lap, you feel his boner poke your skin.

“Leave some for tomorrow,” you let out an exhausted chuckle.

“Ignore it…,” he speaks softly and you lean back, dropping your weight onto his chest. You close your eyes as you feel him rub and massage your skin with a soothing pressure all over.

You don’t realise you begin drifting into light sleep but blink a few times when your head jerks up, feeling his body shift underneath you. You lean forward to allow him some space and he gets out of the tub. You eye the way the water drips down his body, trickling over his toned back muscles before he grabs the towel to pat himself dry. His damp hair falls over his temple and you smile to yourself – you could definitely get used to this.

He holds his hand out to you and you take it as you get out of the tub. You undo the towel around his waist to dry your own body, feeling your skin prick due to the cold air after having spent a good few minutes in the hot tub.

Just as you’re about to wrap the towel around your torso, Toji tugs it out of your hand to drop it to the floor and instead lifts you up again to carry you out into the bedroom.

“Toji, I’m cold,” you hug your arms around his neck.

“I know… don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm,” he says as he lays you down on the bed, readjusting his position till he’s on top.

“I really think we should get some sleep,” you giggle when he kisses you cheek.

“This is how we build up your endurance… with more practice,” he leaves open mouthed kisses down your throat.

You laugh as you yank his hair to pull his face away from your skin. “Let me sleep! Good night.”

“You can sleep… I don’t mind,” he mumbles as his tongue teases one of your nipples, biting the hardened bud lightly.

“Toji! Behave!” you scold him in a not-so-convincing tone.

“If I had behaved, we wouldn’t be here,” he rolls his eyes as he gets back up to give you a long, lazy smooch till you’re both out of breath. When your lips part, he rolls to the side, collapsing on the bed next to you. 

He covers the thick blanket over your bodies before pulling you to his chest and kissing your shoulder with a soft ‘good night’. The act is surprising as you hadn’t really taken him for the cuddling type. You feel his boner stick out against your back once again and you laugh.

“Shh, this is all very new. Give me some time,” he teases, snaking his arm around your waist. You wrap your hand over his, letting yourself melt into his arms when he rubs soft circles over your belly. You involuntarily rub your ass against his hard on and he presses your stomach to still your movement.

“Don’t do that if you want to sleep,” he warns and you giggle as you close your eyes, the tiredness of the whole day taking over your senses as you fall asleep in his arms.

~~~

You wake up when you hear your phone ring from a distant corner. You try to move Toji’s heavy arm to free yourself but he pulls you in even closer.

“My phone’s ringing,” you whisper as you turn your head to look at him. His eyes are still closed as he grumbles in a low voice, “Let it.”

You still manage to wiggle yourself out of his grasp and quietly walk towards where your phone was lying on the floor near the door. Toji stirs and sits up, his eyes following your naked form as you pick up the call.

“Did you die in there or something?”, you wince when you hear Ema’s voice on the other end.

“Open the door, we’ve been out here for, like, 5 minutes now,” Lisa’s voice is more distant.

When your brain registers what they’re talking about, you slap a hand over your mouth as you stare at Toji.

“Give me 5 minutes,” you mutter before hanging up, not giving them a chance to protest. Toji gets off the bed and walks towards you.

“Ema and Lisa… they’re outside my room… and I'm here,” you sigh as you pick up your garments off the floor.

“Told you there’s no point in hiding,” he says, tucking a loose strand behind your ear, “I’ll walk you to your room.”

You simply narrow your eyes at him with a ‘yeah, right’. He takes the dress from your hand.

“I’m not joking…” he holds the dress up in front of you and shrugs, “Besides, you’re gonna have to wear my clothes anyway.”

You see that the zip is broken with the fabric looking frayed where the zip ends – you had heard it right, he did rip your dress last night.

“I really liked that dress,” you pout but it’s far from a complaint. You know you cannot complain after a night like that.

“I liked it too… it gave me a really hard time the entire night,” he gives you a quick peck, far from apologetic, “I’ll get you one just like it.”

You simply blush at his words before pressing your hands on his chest, “Fineee, get me something to wear.”

He squeezes your ass once before walking away to his suitcase. You put on your thong and bra back on just as he returns with a t-shirt and sweatpants. You snatch them out of his hands and put them on quickly. 

He laughs at how baggy his sweats are, the compression t-shirt is still okay in comparison, “Guess it’s too big for you?”

You crinkle your nose, cringing at his joke as you secure the drawstring tightly to keep the pants from sliding down, “No, it’s not that big.”

“Is that so?”, he wraps his arms around your waist, caging you in, “Do I need to refresh your memory?”

“Toji! My friends are waiting!” you slap his chest and he laughs, leaning down to kiss you.

“Let them,” he moves his lips down to your jaw.

“No, let’s leave,” you wiggle your way out of his arms, shoving your phone in the pocket of his sweats before picking up your heels to carry them in one hand. He quickly puts on a different pair of sweatpants with an oversized t-shirt and sliders before grabbing his keycard. 

“Oh wait… I think my keycard is in your jacket from yesterday,” you turn around when you’re at the door to find him already rummaging through the pockets to retrieve it. You grin at him and he simply shrugs, “Told you, I’m a gentleman.”

You roll your eyes again as he opens the door and you quickly make your way to the elevator. Toji’s hand is resting on your lower back when the elevator dings and the doors open. 

You know there’s no point in hiding, yet you walk ahead of him as you notice your two friends standing outside your room. Before you have a chance to greet them, you hear Toji’s booming voice from behind, “Morning, ladies!”

You brace yourself for their reaction and it’s just as animated as you’d expected. They don't try to be subtle about it as they smirk at you while greeting the man in unison and you realise it's a lost cause trying to keep it a secret.

And it surely doesn’t help that Toji makes it a point to grab your jaw and kiss you goodbye in front of the two for no damn reason, as if it weren’t already obvious about what had transpired between you two. 

As he leaves, you smile at him, watching him walk away. The heat rushes to your cheek when you hear Ema fake a cough and you turn around to look at your friends. 

“Open the door ASAP! I wanna know everything,” Lisa squeals and you know your friends would not leave you alone until you went into heavy detail about the whole night.

~fin~

[laukoslovergirl]

Slim Pickins - Blurb

Pairing: Joey Daccord x Reader 

Warnings: my bad writing

Summary: doing a tik tok trend 

word count: 792

“Joeyyyyyyy” you call through the apartment. You drop your keys and bag at the table by the door before slipping out of your shoes. 

“In the bathroom baby” he hollers back. You smile knowing you timed your drive over from your apartment to his just right. Meaning he was just getting out of the shower after arriving home from practice. You had a mission for the day. There was a trend going around in tik tok to one of Sabrina Carpenter's new songs and you were determined to get him to do it with you. You were sure it wouldn’t take much convincing. He loved to do the dorky little things you asked him to. Bonus points because this one would show off all the work he continuously puts in on his body.  

“How was practice, love?” You ask, finding him in the bathroom. Towel around his waist you smile at him from the doorway. 

“It was good pretty easy today” he comes your way before stopping in front of you leaning over to place a kiss atop your head. 

“Ready for your game tomorrow night?” You ask wrapping your arms around his perfectly toned waist. You knew it was something he was proud of. The work he had put in for his body to look the way it does. He smiles that gorgeous smile of his 

“I’m always ready but grub’s starting tomorrow night” he gives you a small pout. You perk up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss. 

“Mmm thats a bummer” he shrugs, turning to head to his closet. “Sooo i had a thing i wanted to do with you” you flop onto the bed grabbing your phone from your pocket to pull up a video you had saved to show him. 

“What’s that?” He asked from inside the closet

“There’s this silly tik tok i wanted to make with you, you’d get to show off your muscles and be cute” you offer rolling onto your back as he walked out of the closet. Now clothed, he stopped in front of you running a hand through your hair” 

“Okay baby i’ll do it” 

You squealed springing up  from your spot on the bed. You grabbed his hand to pull him to the living room. 

“Okay it’s simple. I’m gonna cue you and you're gonna pick me up and set me on your shoulder” he nodded following along with what you were saying “would you like to see a demonstration?” 

“It seems fairly self explanatory he stated watching you bounce with excitement in front of him “but just to make sure i dint fuck it up yeah” 

You opened your phone pressing play on the video. As it played on you watched his expression. When it looped his eyes looked up to find yours. 

“Okay so i have a question before we do this?” He stated nodding towards your phone. 

“Do you want me to lift you by myself or do you want to jump? Because I can lift you no problem, I just gotta know what you’re comfortable with, pretty girl” he wrapped his arms around your waist lifting you off the ground and placing you on the kitchen counter. 

“I want you to do what you are comfortable with that wont put you at risk of hurting yourself” you state, lacing your arms around his neck.

He leans his head down to nuzzle into your neck. “Lifting it is” he mumbles into your skin. You hum in agreement knowing he’s made up his mind and won’t change not that you are complaining.  You stay like that for a few minutes wrapped up in each other as he presses soft kisses to your neck. He taps your hip three times. 

“Let's do this so we can go eat lunch. I'm starving” he says with a patient smile as he pulls away from you. Joey lifts you off the island, setting you back down on the ground. You get your phone set up and place him in frame before starting the countdown. Getting yourself into place he puts his hands on your hips. Your height difference is accentuated by the angle of the camera. You cue tapping on his hand and he lifts you onto his shoulder proud goofy smile in his face hand wrapped around your ankle to keep you steady. A simple display of affection and protection. Instead of keeping you up there for the whole video length he surprises you by pulling you down into a bridal carry and placing a kiss on your lips. You can’t help but giggle as you hear the video play in the background. You love this silly man and things he does to put a smile on your face. 

[withahappyrefrain]

Summary: After teasing and disobeying Bob, you get your well deserved punishment.

Warning: Choking (yes this is the bicep choking fic), dash of size kink, lots of sex, oral (both receiving), language, mean dom Bob bc I'm a whore

"Darlin'. Behave." His voice is low, gravely in your ear. His fingers gently squeeze the flesh on your hip. To others, it looks nothing out of the ordinary. Just Bob, whispering sweet nothings to his partner.

If only they knew.

You let out a confused hum, tilting your head up to face his. The smile on your face is innocent, unassuming. The same smile that Jake swears was the key to him figuring out that you were married to Bob, stating that y'all looked like 'you just stepped out of a movie musical from the fifties'.

You didn't wear long dresses and skirts because you felt a kinship to a particular decade.

Rather, the extra fabric made it easier to cover yourself while Bob fucked you in his truck. 

Which is exactly what you wanted to be doing right now instead of watching Jake and Bradley argue over a round of pool.

Usually wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing your back into his chest did the trick. Apparently watching two grown men argue was too distracting.

So you began to move your hips, subtly grinding your ass against his crotch. Bob simply squeezed the flesh of your hips, sending a subtle reminder back.

That just wouldn't do.

God, you had been aching for him all day. And yes, it was a bit greedy to still want him after he gave up arriving on time tonight in order to eat you out. Truly, you had hoped the act would be enough until you two returned home. 

But he just looked so good in his white T Shirt. Bob was always handsome, but you loved it when he dressed casually. The soft fabric of his shirt hugged his muscles that he didn't show very often. It seemed that people often forget that Bob had to stay physically fit for his job, that he also had to do two hundred push ups.

You never forgot.

"Just a little bit longer, then we'll go home. Kay?" Bob whispered before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

You nodded your head, despite being unsatisfied with his response. Stilling your body, it appeared that you understood his request.

Bob slung an arm around your shoulder, his hand near your breasts, but just out of reach. Your thighs clenched at the sight of his fingers, thinking about how earlier he had used them to make you come so hard your legs shook.

So your hips began their ministrations again. To onlookers, it looked as though you were simply swaying to the music playing from the old jukebox.

Bob knew the truth.

The grip he had on your hip tightened, his lips trailing from your forehead to your ear, "What did I just say?"

"I like this song," you stated, shrugging your shoulders. It was fun, seeing how far you could push him. Bob was pretty good at keeping up the facade, as if his cock wasn't growing erect underneath his jeans.

If things were up to you, his cock would be growing inside you while your back was pressed into the mattress.

Instead, you were still at the Hard Deck, Bob seemingly determined not to break.

"Y'know I'm gonna fuck you when we get home, right?" He whispered, pulling you closer to him, hoping the promise would be enough to satiate you. 

"I know," you said with a sweet smile. No one thought anything odd of your exchange because it looked like a normal conversation you and Bob were having. 

If only they knew. 

Your hand trailed up from his thigh to the back of his neck. His hair was soft, curling thanks to the hat he had on. That old trucker hat that he always wore when he wasn't in uniform. 

Bob let out a strangled grunt upon feeling you tug his hair. The sensation only lasted for a few seconds, your hand moving quickly back to his thigh. 

He was stunned, or so he appeared. 

His arm swiftly moved up your chest. Your eyes bulged upon feeling his bicep against your neck, restricting your airway. 

The action was brief, his bicep gone before anyone could see anything. But the sensation, how easy it was for him to choke you, how he didn't have to move his arm that much because the muscle was so big, remained in your brain, replaying over and over again, your thighs clenching. 

"That made you wet, didn't it?' He asked, chuckling. As if he just witnessed something amusing, rather than choking you in public. 

"Why don't you go check?" 

His stare burned into the back of your head. You didn't need to look, you knew his icy blue eyes were narrower, his nostrils flaring as he thought about what you just implied. 

"You heard me," you whispered, words smug. 

Bob's hand moved quickly. It wasn't a hard slap, but it made your eyes widened. Within seconds after slapping your face, that same hand was now gripping your chin, tilting it upwards so he could press a kiss to your lips. 

No one noticed. 

He had been so fast, that it looked like he was simply cupping your chin to kiss you. 

How sweet. 

No one noticed how his hand was trailing up your thighs, slipping under your skirt, moving towards the space in between your thighs. 

No one noticed how his eyes widened when his hand felt your soaked folds rather than cotton. 

“This whole night?” Bob asked. 

"Wanted to be ready for ya," was the only explanation you gave him. 

It was all you needed. 

Bob didn't let you get that far into the house. As soon as you reached the living room, your knees were on the carpet. The soft material brushed against your face as your legs were pried apart. 

"Ya think you're so big for that fucking stunt, don't you?" His hands were rough, grabbing your hips, pushing them towards his. 

A desperate moan fell from your lips upon feeling his clothed erection against your bare ass. 

"Should have fucked you right then and there. But you'd like that, wouldn't you?" You couldn't help but let out a needy whine upon hearing the sound of him unzipping his jeans.

"But you'd like that too much, wouldn’t ya?" His voice was sinful, low and gruff as he repeated himself, indicating he wanted a response. 

It took some time for Bob to be this comfortable around you. He didn't want to overstep any boundaries, and quite frankly, part of him was worried you wouldn't be into it. 

He was so wrong. 

For as much as you liked being in charge, there were times where you didn't want to make decisions, to think through every action. You wanted to be daring, to be reckless. 

Most of all, you wanted someone to reign you in, to call the shots. 

It worked out well, for Bob only had so much control in his daily life. He didn't call the shots, that was ultimately up to his pilot. He couldn't control what others did up in the air. 

But in this moment, he could control you. Could mold you to how he saw fit. He could make you cum over and over until your legs shook or edge you till tears ran down your face. 

He had options, choices. Something he reminded himself as he felt your bare cunt grinded itself against his denim covered crotch. 

His large hand found your ass, roughly grabbing your soft flesh, practically marveling at your curves. 

“Only want you Robby. Only you,” You pleaded, your voice music to Bob’s ears. 

“God, you’re so soft,” He murmured into your ear, his fingers finding their way to your soaked folds, “Want all of ya.”

You moaned as his fingers thrusted into you, finding that special spot with a precision and quickness that only Bob possessed. 

The sound of his name said in broken moans filled the air, mixing with the lewd sounds of your wetness as his fingers continued his ministrations, his thumb finding your clit. 

With anyone else, you’d be embarrassed by how desperate and loud you were. But god, his fingers were so thick and made you feel so fucking good. Bob knew your body like the back of his hand, every curve, every spot that drove you closer to the edge. 

And you’re so close, you need just a few more thrusts, a few more rough circles drawn on your clit and you would be seeing stars when you closed your eyes. 

But you didn’t deserve that. Not after what you just pulled. 

Which is why Bob responds to your tears and pleads when he pulls out with a harsh slap against your cunt. Pleasure laced pain courses through your body, your own fingers gripping the rug for purchase. 

“Don’t you dare. Turn around and show me how bad you want to come and maybe then I’ll think about it,” Bob ordered. His words caused your walls to clench around nothing. 

You maneuvered your body so that you were now looking up at him. His erection was straining against his clothes, his cock impossible to ignore. 

Quickly, your fingers found the buttons of his jeans, undoing them enough so you could easily pull down both his pants and boxers to his knees. 

Your mouth all but salivated at the sight of his cock, now resting against his abdomen. 

Bob had the prettiest cock you had ever seen. It was perfect, not too thick, curved ever so slightly, which allowed him to hit that spot with every thrust. 

You moaned as your lips touched the plush tip, tongue lapping up the precum that had formed. The vibrations sent shivers down Bob's spine, a deep grunt falling from his lips, his hands gripping your shoulders. 

He used his hands to gently guide your mouth further down his cock. Your cheeks hollowed out, trying to take in as much of him as you could. 

"Just like that sweetheart, f-fuck." Bob could maintain his composure thousands of feet up in the air, but as soon as your pretty mouth was wrapped around his cock, all bets were off. Your mouth was heaven and he loved how eager you were to show him you were able to take so much of him now. 

Drool began seeping down your chin as your head bobbed up and down, taking in as much as you comfortably could. 

His call sign never stood for baby on board. 

"Ya want me to come in your mouth? Or that pretty little pussy of yours?" His words made you want to rub your thighs together, an urge you were desperately fighting, not wanting to risk any more punishments. 

You looked up at Bob and he wished he could take a picture. Wide eyes and your mouth wrapped around his cock. You were beautiful and all his.

And boy, did Bob Floyd fucking love it. 

His fingers gripped your chin, guiding your head away from his cock, "I asked you a question darlin. You gonna give me an answer or do I need to teach you some manners again?" 

"I want you to come in my pussy. Please." 

Bob chuckled, "So polite for a dirty little girl. Turn around." 

And that was your punishment. He'll fuck you, he'll let you come, but you couldn't see him unless he let you. You couldn't kiss Bob unless he wanted to. 

He entered you swiftly, eliciting a near scream from you. 

"Robby!" 

No one had ever made you feel so good, so full before. Bob wasted no time, knowing you were prepared thanks to this afternoon. 

"Fuck, taking my cock s-so good, angel," his voice was shaky, his breath hot on your ear. Even if you were in trouble, he couldn't help but praise you. 

You tilted your head up, hoping he would act on pure instincts and kiss you. 

His lips ghosted over your face, cerulean eyes nearly all but closed as he reveled in the feeling of your warm cunt clenching around his cock. 

"S'big Robby, I-" 

"Shhh," he pressed his lips to your forehead, "You don't have to think. Just let me use that pretty little pussy of yours." 

He snaked an arm around your neck, tightening his grip so his bicep pressed against your throat. Now you had no choice but to look up at him. 

Broken, choked gasps filled your living room, swirling with the sounds of Bob's hips meeting yours. All you could do was take it, his cock repeatedly brushing against the spot that made your toes curl and your back arch in pleasure. 

Before you met Bob, you didn't think that spot even existed. 

"You gonna make a mess all over my cock? C'mon baby, you can do it," Bob flexed his bicep, further restricting your airflow. 

That one movement broke the dam. Your legs shook as white hot pleasure ran through your body. Bob, ever the doting husband, was quick to wrap an arm around your waist, holding you up while your orgasm took over your body. 

"Please don't stop," you're begging and you don't care. Every thrust prolongs your pleasure. All you can focus on, all you care about is your husband and how his cock is sending you to a pleasurable bliss. 

"S'pretty, want another one," Bob's chest was pressed against your back, his hand snaking to just above where you two connected. 

His fingers, calloused from years of work, felt heavenly on your clit. 

The pleasure was now rolling through you in waves. Each thrust, each swipe of your clit sent you reeling. If it weren't for the arm Bob and around your neck and collarbone, you weren't sure you'd be able to hold yourself up. 

"C'mon baby, so fucking pretty. Know you got another one in ya. Fuck, you feel so good. C-can't believe I get ya all to myself, love you s'much," his words were beginning to slur, as if he was drunk off of you. 

It was one of your favorite parts about having sex with Bob. When his words began to slur, when the only things he could intelligibly say were praises for you, the only thing he could focus on was you. 

Between Bob's praises and the circles his thumb was drawing on your clit, your eyes closed as pleasure took over your body again. You were screaming something, could feel your throat strain as you spoke. But what exactly it was, you couldn’t say. 

A large hand cradled the back of your head, the other maneuvering your legs so they were wrapped around a lithe waist.

When you opened your eyes, you found yourself lying on your bed, a pair of blue eyes staring back at you. 

"Hey darlin," Bob's voice was soft as his nose glided over your cheek, "Wanna keep going?" 

You weakly nodded, your hands reaching up to his hair. 

"Use your words darlin," Bob reminded, fucking his head down to press gentle kisses and nips across your neck. 

"Want," you whined, causing Bob to sink his teeth into your collarbone, "Want you to come inside me Robby! Please!" 

A low, guttural groan came from your husband, "Fuck, how did I get so lucky?" 

His mouth trailed down your body, leaving kisses all over. Your fingers flew to his shoulders when you felt his nose brush against your clit. 

"Robby, you said-" 

"I know," his breath was hot on your most intimate part, "But I just gotta taste ya first, okay?" 

Bob couldn't help it and you knew it too. Yes, he got to taste you earlier. He knew it was bad to be greedy, but your cunt was an exception. 

So he didn't feel bad when his tongue found your soaked folds, lapping up your arousal. It drove Bob wild, getting to taste you. He had to fight the urge to grind his hips against the comforter, wanting to come inside you. 

Your fingers were threading themselves in his sun kissed hair, needing something to hold onto as he groaned against your cunt. 

"S'good," Bob moaned, sending vibrations all along your body. Wanting to keep you ready for him, he thrusted a finger inside you. 

"Robby!" 

Bob simply smirked, knowing your walls could feel the cool, smooth metal of his wedding band. He continues making languid thrusts against that spongy spot, the one that he knows drives you wild, makes your legs shake. 

Besides, you were still being punished. You wanted to come so badly tonight, so Bob was going to make you come.

Over and over again. 

Your back arched as his tongue continued to lap at your clit, sensitivity surging through you. 

While your release came in a smaller wave this round, it was still intense. Your fingers gripped the soft strands of Bob's hair, hips jerking upwards in a shameless attempt to get more of Bob's mouth. 

"What's wrong? Thought ya wanted my cock darlin," Bob smirked when he pulled away. 

It was impressive how after five years he could still take you by surprise. You open your eyes, his words making you want to sit up. 

Instead, your husband's lips crashed onto yours, his large hands pushing you back down to the mattress. 

"Asked ya a question darlin. Gonna give me an answer?" 

Two could play the game. 

Your fingers gripped his hair, nails brushing against his scalp as you tugged on the locks, pulling his head back. 

"You gonna fuck me?" 

You could only place a few love bites on his neck before you were back on your knees, face against the pillow. 

"When did you get so bold?" The rural drawl laced his deep voice, his breath hot on your neck. 

"Since you stopped fucking me." That was the final straw. Bob quickly lined his cock to your entrance and thrusted in without a warning, sending you practically reeling. 

"Fuck Bob!" 

"That's what I'm trying t'do," he snarled, his hips quickly meeting yours. 

Any smartass comment died in your throat when Bob's bicep pressed against your neck. God, it was easy to forget how big and strong he was. He tried to hide it, tried to make himself small, make himself blend in by hunching over, by not taking up as much space. 

Which was why you loved it when he displayed his strength. He didn't have to flex much, if at all, to have the muscle against your throat, restricting your airway. 

"Can tell how much ya love that from the way you're clenching me so tight." 

You could only let out a strangled hum of agreement, too busy focused on how fucking full you felt every time he bottomed out. 

Bob knew you were getting close. He could tell by the way your breath quickened, your walls clenching around his cock, not wanting it to leave. 

Bob was also very close. Had been for quite a while. But he was raised to be a gentleman and you deserved to come several times before he did. 

His free hand trailed down to where you two connected. Just a little more attention to your clit and Bob would have you right where he desperately needed you. 

All you could do was take his cock, take in the scent of eucalyptus that surrounded him, mixed with the sweat that came from his hard work. 

"M'so close," you weakly groaned, fingers finding purchase in your comforter. 

"I know, just a little more. You can wait for me, I know ya can. Fuck I'm so lucky, married to ya. Ya gonna take it all too, aren't ya? Fuck, I love ya so fucking much." 

He released the grip he had on your throat, turning your head so he could capture your lips once more. 

That was what sent you reeling. That's what made you see galaxies when you closed your eyes. The only thing you could focus on was how good he felt, fucking you, coming inside of you, filling you up with everything he had. 

For what seemed like ages, you two were frozen in place, trying to catch your breath. 

"Darlin, I'm gonna pull out now, 'kay?" Bob finally said, gently pressing a handkerchief to where you two were connected. 

"Can we shower after this?" You mumbled. 

Bob pressed a kiss to your shoulder, "Course we can." 

"With the shower steamer?" 

Bob chuckled, "The rosemary one, right?" 

"Love ya Robby." 

"I love you too darlin'."

-------------------------------------------------------------

@lewmagoo @ohtobeleah @sometimesanalice @cumholland @chxosunbound @callsignspark @dissonannce @yanna-banana @lovinglyeternal @cherrycola27 @lostinthefandoms11 @rhettabbotts @sebsxphia @hangmanapologist @ryebecca @bobfloydsbabe @laracrofted @mothdruid @delopsia

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

im in love with your blog my god...its actually so stunning and i LOVE how you write ethan. like the other anon said, you're truly saving & feeding us <33 can i request fluffy sex with virgin ethan? maybe even a little subby, considering lack of experience. but he finally feels ready w the reader after a couple months of being together. they're taking every big step slow but ethans always initiating first im done & deceased

Thank you!!! you're so sweet, I hope you like it:)

Dark Side of Your Room - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

Virgin!Ethan Landry x Experienced!Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: Your boyfriend is ready to lose his virginity.

A/N: I tried to make this as realistic as I could when it comes to a guy losing his virginity haha. I'll probably do a part 2. I hope you guys like it! - HATED this, rewrote it:)

Fun Fact: a lot of my titles come from the song I'm listening to at the time I'm getting ready to post lol

When you met Ethan, he had this innocence that just kind of drew you in. You knew from the beginning that the two of you would end up together, even if he did struggle to make eye contact for the first couple weeks after meeting you. He soon gained some confidence, and finally asked you out on a date. The two of you have been together since then, and he’s recently started to show more interest in other things people in relationships do. You weren’t a virgin, but he was. You were okay with not sleeping together, and the last thing you ever wanted to do was pressure him into something he wasn’t ready for. After the last time he came to your house, and a simple kiss turned into him on top of you kissing your neck, you had a feeling that a conversation was coming soon.

“Hey, babe?” he asked, as he sat beside you on your bed doing homework.

“What’s up?” you asked, glancing over to see his cheeks a light shade of pink.

“I think I’m ready,” he said, looking down at the keyboard of his laptop, trying not to get flustered under your gaze/

“Think you’re ready, or know you’re ready?” you asked, a smirk playing on your lips.

“I know I’m ready,” he said, “but if you don’t want to have sex yet, I understand.”

"I want to," you said softly, his head snapping to look at you. His heart started to race as his anxiety creeped up from his lack of experience.

You closed you laptop, your assignments being the last thing on your mind as he leaned in to kiss you. The kiss was gentle...at first. He pushed you back on the bad, your mouth moving with his as you glided your tongue across his bottom lip. He let you deepen the kiss as you felt his erection pressing against you.

As he kissed you, his hands started to roam, for the first time. He almost wanted to pinch himself to see if he was dreaming. He squeezed one of your breasts, making you whimper. His head shot up, concerned that he hurt you.

“You okay?” he asked, his eyes wide as he looked over your face.

“Yes baby, it felt good,” you said, grabbing his face and pulling him back so your mouths reconnected.

He started to lift your shirt, running his hand across your stomach. His hand inched further up, massaging you over your bra. You wanted him to take his time, but you felt yourself getting more wet by the second.

“You can take my shirt off,” you mumbled against his lips.

“Okay,” he said, fully lift the material over your head.

His lips went to your neck, as you felt his hips start to grind against you. He gasped at the feeling, breathing heavy against your sensitive flesh. His hands snaked behind you as he struggled to unhook your bra. You giggled as you leaned up, the determination evident on his face that he wasn’t going to ask for help. After he got it unhooked and slid the straps down your arms, he looked at the newly exposed skin.

“Fuck,” he whispered, trailing his kisses down your neck and over to one of your nipples.

Your breath hitched in your throat at the feeling, as he reached his hand up to massage the other one he wasn’t already giving attention to. He sucked your nipple into his mouth, causing you to make a new sound he'd never heard before. He switched to the other side, before trailing kisses down your tummy. He wanted to take his time, but he didn't want to embarrass himself by cumming in his pants.

You intently watched him as his mouth moved lower, stopping at the top of your pants.

“Can I take these off of you?” he asked, pupils blown out in lust, paying that you'd say yes.

“Yes baby," you whimpered, your core throbbing as he undid the button and slid the zipper down.

He slowly dragged them down your legs, taking in every inch of newly exposed skin. He trailed kisses along your hips before moving down lower as kissing up your thighs. When he made it to your clothed pussy, he placed a kiss to it over your panties. He grabbed you by the hips, before sliding them down your legs to meet your pants on the floor.

“Can you walk me through this?” he asked, a hint of embarrassment in his tone.

“Yeah, babe," you said, grabbing his hand that was on your hip and leading it to where you needed him. "Rub your fingers right here." He started off slow, his fingers getting wet with your arousal.

"Move your fingers a little bit faster," you said, your breath hitching in your throat as two of his fingers circled around your sensitive clit. "Just like that, baby."

He was trying to fight the urge to taste you, not knowing if he'd do a good job. The last thing he wanted to do was stop all the pretty sounds coming out of your mouth. You could tell he was holding back, so you tried to encourage him.

"You can use your mouth if you want to." His eyes lit up, wasting no time to lean in and place a small lick to your clit.

“Oh fuck,” you whimpered, his eyes connecting with yours as he repeated the action.

The curls on his head were tickling your thighs as he started to lick faster, loving that he was making you feel good. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you started to praise him. "You're doing such a good job," you moaned, as he sucked your clit into his mouth.

"Baby," you whimpered, "Can you put one of your fingers inside of me?"

“Okay,” he said against your clit, the vibrations from his voice making your legs tremble.

He slid a finger inside of you with ease as his mouth moved against you. "Fuck, you're so wet and tight," he mumbled, watching your face as he slid it in and out of you. "Can I use two fingers?"

You nodded, as he added another finger. The feeling of him stretching you out had you craving more.

“Okay…fuck…curve them a little, like you’re telling someone to come to you,” you rushed out between moans.

When he started to hit that special spot inside of you, and latched his mouth back onto your clit, you felt your orgasm quickly building. You started to cry out from the pleasure you were feeling, which made him go faster. Your hips were moving against his hand as his tongue struggled to keep up. He put his free arm over your waist, holding you down. The power move made your pussy start to clinch around his fingers.

“Oh my god,” you cried out, the feeling of ecstasy washing over you. Your hands were shaking as they tangled in his hair. The groan he let out from your actions sending vibrations to your clit, making your orgasm more intense.

He started to pull his fingers out before you whimpered, "No baby, Don't stop!"

He worked you through your orgasm, his fingers sliding out of you when your walls stopped fluttering.

“Did you cum?” he asked, a huge smile on his face.

“Yes baby, fuck that felt so good,” you said, trying to catch your breath.

He was beaming, so proud of himself, as he walked over to his backpack to grab a condom. He took his pants off and started to crawl back on the bed before you stopped him.

“Boxers too, baby,” you smirked, as his cheeks started to turn red.

“I’m kind of self-conscious about my size,” he said, not wanting to make eye contact. But as your saw the outline of his hard cock, you knew he had nothing to be embarrassed about. You were questioning how it was going to fit in you.

You didn’t say anything as you crawled over to the edge of the bed in front of where he was standing, sliding his boxers down. He gasped at the feeling of his erection being freed, standing at attention right in front of your face.

“Fuck, baby,” you whispered, as you wrapped your hand around it. His eyes screwed shut the second you touched him, his salty precum leaking out of his tip.

“I need to be inside of you,” he said when your hand started to move. "I don't want to cum yet."

You nodded, wanting this experience to be exactly what he wanted. You laid back on the bed as he opened the condom, his hands shaking as he rolled it on.

"It's okay, baby," your sweet voice said, trying to ease his nerves.

He crawled back on top of you, your legs spreading as his hips met yours. He looked at you for a minute, his eyes full of sexual desire and love. You felt so special that he wanted to experience this with you.

"Hey," he mumbled, "I just want you to know how much I love you, and how much you mean to me."

Your heart melted at his words, "I love you too, baby."

When you felt his hand reach between the two of you, you whispered, "Please be slow. It'll hurt if you just shove it in."

"Okay baby," he said, slowly sliding in. "Oh shit," he whimpered, the tightness and warm feeling making it hard for him to think.

He stilled in you for a second after he was all the way in, before his eyes started to plead with yours. "Can I move?"

“Yes," you said, leaning up to peck his lips.

He slowly started to thrust, the feeling of his cock stretching out your pussy making you a moaning mess underneath of him within minutes. He groaned as he rocked his hips into yours, loving the way he felt inside of you. You couldn't stop watching him. The way his mouth fell open, the way the muscles in his arms flexed, the way his brows furrowed together.

"You're doing such a good job, baby," you praised, as his hips started to stutter. You knew he was close so you started to moan even louder, trying to push him over the edge.

"Fuck," he groaned, "I'm gonna cum." He filled the tip of the condom, but you could tell he was disappointed in himself.

He slid out of you, taking the condom off and throwing it in the trash. His head hung in shame as he refused to make eye contact with you.

"What's wrong, baby?" you asked, his face red with embarrassment finally turning to look at you.

"I didn't make you cum," he sighed, sitting down beside you in the bed. "I didn't want to cum before you."

"Baby, you made me cum earlier. It's not a big deal," you whispered, your fingertips rubbing against his arm. "We could always go for round two."

[junedenim]

2006

beneath the boardwalk, part 4 (series masterlist)

505

warnings: fluff, angst, smut, sobbing, etc.

word count: 11.1k

In a boring fashion, Alex and I spent the winter much like winters' past. Time froze in that corner of our world and lifetimes existed between the drive from Wakefield to High Green. Charlton Brook was experiencing an ice age but we'd still drive out to as close as we could get without getting out of my car. 

Alex would be stuffed in several layers of clothing and his hair was always messy but always fell in the right place. We'd make out and I'd mess it up more and it felt like nothing else existed outside of it.

Some unknown song would play quietly in the background (one time "When the Sun Goes Down" played and I refused to let Alex turn it off and he refused to kiss me during it so we sat in silence in the car listening to it) and we'd occupied ourselves with kissing, talking, and playing cards. 

We began a tournament in Gin Rummy over my school recess and his touring break. Said tournament has continued since then. We never established a number we were playing to and so we have decided that the winner will be determined in death, however morbid that is. I had the lead that winter but over the summer Alex would overtake me. I seem to do best in winter while Al dominates in summer. 

"Are we boring?" I asked him.

"Hmm?"

"We've grown old and boring. We're playing Gin Rummy in my car at 11 AM."

He chuckled. "We've always been this way, Janie. We used to sit in a room and write in silence. It was glorified old married couple."

I wanted to ask him if he thought we'd be an old married couple, instead, I asked, "How do you think we'd be as an old married couple?"

He shrugged and discarded an ace. "I don't think we'd be boring. Maybe settled. But we'd always have something interesting. Even if music fails and you give up on writing—which I'd never allow—I can't imagine us not being the intelligent fun couple. Maybe I'd be boring but you never."

"With all my neuroses?"

"Of course," he over-enthusiastically said. "But you're too interesting and funny to be boring."

"Same to you."

"Even if I was, I'll be the old guy who sits in the corner and doesn't say anything. You'll have to do all the talking for me."

I laughed. "I'm fine with that." We shared a smile and I knew I'd love him forever, even if we crashed and burned, he'd always be my first love. "You know the thing you said about being intelligent?"

"Yeah?"

"Clearly you aren't." I scooped up his discarded ace and put down my ace three-of-a-kind and then placed my last card face down. With a smug look, I said, "Gin."

He threw his head back after watching the whole scene. "Fuck. I knew I shouldn't have done that. I knew—I knew you had to have had the other aces. Fuck."

*

One afternoon, the snow was thick and we deemed it too heavy to drive around in, which conveniently meant Alex would likely stay the night. In my room, Alex and I sat around in our routine of playing cards and listening to the radio. I had the fuzzy socks he got me for Christmas, which might seem like a cheap Christmas gift (it was) but back in our tour bus summer I had mentioned it to him and he had clearly noted it. 

I was shuffling the deck of cards and he was rubbing my feet after I insisted the foot rub would help them warm up. The radio was soft and for the whole morning, the house had been quiet, which should have been the warning alarm.

A loud crash rang from downstairs followed by my parents' loud yelling. I rolled my eyes and fell backward onto my rug. "There goes a peaceful afternoon," I said.

"Do you want to sneak out of here?" He asked. Alex had never witnessed my parents' arguments; they were generally further apart as I grew up because they decided it was best if they never spent any time around each other but when they did occur they were long-winded and brutal.

"Where? It's freezing and it's not like we can walk down through the front door with them yelling there."

"We could go out through your window."

I laughed. "And fall to our death?"

"We might be alright in the snow."

"No, let's just hide out here."

He stood up and turned up the radio. "It's gotta help out a little."

"Thanks."

He hummed along to the song and I giggled. "What an inappropriate song for this moment," I quipped.

He chuckled but shook his head. "Nah, I think it works for us. You know, 'Until the poets run out of rhymes' and all that."

"You're getting all soft on me." I flicked his nose, bashful under his heavy gaze.

"I've always been soft."

"You're gonna do your best to keep me satisfied?"

He jumped up, tackling me down onto the floor. I shrieked to the floor. If he didn't kiss me you would have thought we were wrestling. "Baby I'm Yours" fading in the background as a knock sounded on the door.

Alex rolled off and I muttered an annoyed, "Jesus."

I stood and opened my bedroom door where, thankfully, Stacey stood on the other side. "I need a fallout shelter here," she said. I widened the door. She stepped in and sat on the edge of my bed. "You guys playing cards? God, you're lame."

Alex chuckled. Stacey and he hadn't hung out much but had always gotten along and had a laugh with one another. "You want to play with us?"

She shrugged. "Sure." As I continued shuffling the cards she reamed us out more, saying things like, "If I had a boyfriend we'd be making out all the time."

"Maybe that's why you don't have a boyfriend," I replied. Alex laughed into his elbow not wanting to anger Stacey.

"No!" She insisted. "All the guys at my school are duds."

"You're 14, everyone is supposed to be duds at 14," I told her as I dealt out the cards.

She fought back, ever snippy and snarky. I have no clue where she learned it from... "You had a boyfriend at 14."

"I wish I didn't." Owen Stenison, blonde-haired, brown eyes, and a breath that tasted like tuna.

"You had a boyfriend at 14?" Alex questioned. We didn't often dive into past relationships, likely because I had a much longer list than him. He had two girlfriends before me, neither super serious.

"Yeah, and it was like the hundredth guy she had been with," Stacey mocked.

"Shut up," I bite back.

She held her hands up defensively. "I'm not shaming."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, right."

"I'm jealous."

"Well, don't be, it wasn't very fun." Is it cheesy to say that I didn't know real love until Alex? Probably. So, I'll just say I hadn't ever had a proper relationship prior to Alex. I had never celebrated a Valentine's Day.

Stacey sighed, "Has to be more fun than being single."

"You're 14 this is the time to be single."

"Bullshit. That's hypocritical from someone in a relationship then and now."

"I wish I had waited."

"Load of shite."

I shrugged. "I don't know. It would've been nice for Alex to be my first boyfriend."

"How virgin pure of you. You're a secret prude."

Alex, watching the exchange from the sidelines, burst out laughing and I rolled my eyes. "Just pick up your cards."

*

The night before Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not was released, the band performed at The Leadmill. It was bittersweet, the end to a chapter of our lives that likely ended months ago but we knew things would be much different after that day. We'd also be separating yet again, which was no longer atypical.

I spent the concert with Alex's parents and while Stacey expressed a desire to be at the show, she elected to sleep over at a friend's house instead. In retrospect, it isn't shocking for me to consider the show with Penny and David as being fun but it was very unexpected at the time.

After the show when parents departed and drinks flowed, I found Alex outside the bar. He had a half-ashed cigarette in his hand and I questioned his sanity wearing only his hoodie in the Northern England January chill.

"Can I bum one?" I shouted down to him.

It took a moment for him to register it was me, a smile slowly spread across his face as I inched closer. "Depends. What do I get?"

I dug into his pocket, feeling his stomach through the cloth, and took the pack for myself. "My witty repartee."

"Well, in that case." He sparked his lighter and burned my end for me.

I leaned beside him on the wall. My head against the cold bricks. "What are you doing out here?"

He grinned down at his feet. "Cheesy to say I was waiting for you?"

I giggled with pleasure and shook my head. "I don't believe you." I blew my smoke out directly into his face.

Alex shook his head and pulled me into his, wrapping his arms around me and holding me so close I could have sworn we briefly had one body. My hands tucked under his jacket and my fingers fist in his shirt and he shivered from the chill of my hands.

"You want my jacket?" I joked.

He kissed my temple. "This tour is gonna suck without you."

"Liar."

"Well, I'll enjoy it." We both chuckled. "But it won't be the same."

"I should just quit school."

"You should," he facetiously agreed for a moment, looking down at me fondly. "No, you shouldn't do that because who am I going to brag about?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Brag about?"

"Yeah, I brag about you all the time."

I laughed. "It's not like I go to Oxford. What are you bragging about?"

He pulled back slightly to get a clearer look at me. "You have to stop undervaluing yourself so much. If you met yourself, you'd be your favourite person."

"You're my favourite person."

He gathered me up again, and kissed me, deepening it. It was messy, turned into brazen and shameless. I backed him against the wall, and the bass beat against his spine. 

*

At the end of February, the band played in London and attended the NME Awards. Alex brought me as his plus one. He wore an anorak over a long-sleeve blue shirt with jeans. I wore a black button-up with black jeans and black heeled boots. I didn't mean to come off as a gothy soul but I didn't have anything fancy and my mother has always told me black is classy. The rest of the band looked like they were dressed like they had to wait at the bus stop in the freezing cold for an hour. Everyone else was fancy-dressed compared to us as Alex would chastise in one of his speeches.

It was at Hammersmith Palais, a year before it was demolished. It was hard to get an appreciation for the building as everything was decked out in NME slogans and everyone was looking to get a piece of the band. For the first time, I was confronted with the question: "Are you his girlfriend?"

I swallowed my drink and nodded. I had a hard time wrapping my head around Alex no longer being my secret. In the coming months, this would grow into a bigger, uncontrollable thing where I would become forever known as "Alex Turner's girlfriend." In the beginning, there was pride in it that my boyfriend was successful and achieving height so long. Then, being referenced as that left me worried. I worried for my future where I would always be referred to in relation to him rather than an individual with a career. Later that night, the first paparazzi photo would be taken of us on the way to the after-party. I was nervous.

During the show, each time the band accepted their awards, totaling 3, we had progressively gotten drunker and drunker and drunker. It was free alcohol, who was gonna turn that down? Especially since the royalties check was still pending. Bob Geldof called Russell Brand a cunt, something that has only aged more gloriously. Ryan Jarman of The Cribs, who are from Wakefield, threw himself onto Kaiser Chiefs's table and had to have an ambulance called because he was bleeding profusely. 

Alex came and sat beside me after his last speech, in which he boasted that the band had no competition in the category of Best British Band. I called him "a cocky son of a bitch" and he kissed my cheek and got me another drink. We both got too drunk to remember the rest of it.

*

Alex convinced me to join them for the weekend in Paris where we saw none of Paris and I saw little of Alex. We talked very little. He was obsessively tired and I felt like a chosen accessory as he held my hand but made no move to involve me. 

I became annoyed with Alex as he napped and I sat by the window writing hate letters to him in my journal that he would never read. 

At night, I fought with Alex and he made little effort to engage in behavior with me. It enraged me more. I yelled about how he didn't care about me and he would blink for so long I thought he fell asleep. Then, he'd say, "Whatever, Janie. Nothing I say will change your mind."

It felt for the first time Alex was sick of me. I had tired him out and he was done trying to force something I would never allow him to change. I felt tired too. We were both exhausted. I slumped down on the bed, still red inside and out. I loved him so dearly and every move I made felt like the wrong one. I just wanted him around all the time and then the time he was exactly around I ruined it with shouting and dreaming up the fantastical things he did away from me.

I didn't know why I was so overcome with anger and I began to hate myself at night. I cried to Alex and he did his best to hold and comfort me but I think he was exhausted by the whole thing. I thought about going to therapy. Then, I woke in the morning and Alex was hogging the bathroom and I decided that I was right to be overwhelmingly angry. I decided I was right about a lot of things.

*

In March, I wandered around London for long spaces of time. Sometimes I was looking for something to do, but most of the time I was trying to pass the time. It was a form of meditation. I'd lie under trees in Regent's Park and count the leaves on each branch. My father had gifted me a red iPod Nano for Christmas and it was the first portable listening device I had other than my clunky portable CD player.

On these walks, I felt I was learning more about myself without thinking about myself. I lacked the ability to shut my brain off but I'd get so lost in the scenery and the music that I'd never think of how I was perceived lying in the grass pointing my finger up to the sky.

Walks calmed me during the day but it didn't often last into the evening. I didn't talk to Alex much. He was in America for most of March. I went clubbing with lasses from classes on weekends and smoked with Georgia and Robert on weekdays. 

Phone calls with Stacey were about the only thing that grounded me but they were of irregular occurrence. Alex wrote me an email halfway through the month that read:

Did MTV and Webster Hall. You'd love NY. I can picture you forcing me on walks through Central Park so I took one just for you. It would've been more fun with you but that's the case with everything. Didn't get to do much else so we'll have to come back. Whenever you want. See you in April.

I never responded to the email. It pissed me off too much because "whenever you want" wasn't the truth. I would never have him when I wanted and I wanted him all the time. I felt I might as well not have him at all. He signed off like I was some meaningless friend that he'd see the next time he was in town and I decided he might not want me at all either.

When April began I hadn't heard from Alex since the email. I tried to call him once but when that failed I decided it would be better for our relationship if I didn't reach out again. I would be mad either way, if he picked up I would be upset he didn't before and if he didn't I'd be convinced I'd never hear from him again. 

*

"I want to cut my hair," I told Alex. We stood outside Carling Academy. I smoked a cigarette and he watched me. I felt like a board was between us. We had only kissed once when we arrived and I didn't want to kiss him again, I only wanted to cry and I couldn't figure out why.

He had his hands in his pockets and he felt like snow to me. He floated down to me, soft on my skin, but cold to the touch, melting in my hands. He leaned his side against the wall and I suppose he was anxious about performing in twenty minutes but I didn't care much.

"I like your hair," Alex told me. His hair had grown longer and I thought he needed a haircut too because it looked like he had sideburns. He had a funny look to him, one that made him look like Alfalfa with a mad cowlick that wasn't intentional but he made no effort to tame it.

I took a puff and said, "I want to shave it all off."

He laughed. "You want to be Sinéad O'Connor." We avoided any serious topic and stayed on the mundane. I preferred that and we accepted that things would stay this way forever if we left it. Alex and I have always done well with the mundane. We didn't do too well with the serious.

I couldn't focus on him, so I smoked my cigarette instead and waited for him to say something. I was near the end of my smoke when he finally said something. "You know, we've got an EP coming out in about a week."

I refused to allow my face to show anything and stared at the floor because I knew he'd be able to see anything I felt when he looked into my eyes. "No, you didn't tell me."

"Yeah, I know."

"Why didn't you?"

"I don't know. It's just a stupid EP."

Before I'd say something different but everything had changed within months. "I guess." I put out my smoke and we went inside. He was gone the next day and he might as well have never even existed. He was gone into dust, with the wind.

I listened to the EP under the trees and wondered who "Fiona" of "Cigarette Smoke" fame was before I figured it must have been me. Nothing Alex could do was right because he had once again landed in the dilemma of whoever Fiona was—a random girl or me—I would've been offended. I listened to "Despair in the Departure Lounge" and decided not to listen to the rest in public.

The last line "What's happened to me?" rang through my ears the whole way home and I have never forgotten that twisting feeling in my gut that it felt like it would take forever for me to escape. We lost ourselves in our own microcosms; I in London and in my thoughts; He on a tour bus and in his music. It felt like the point of no return that was being unacknowledged.

*

I feared I was going crazy during my last month of school and I stopped attending class other than to do my exams. I had enough sense for that. I spent my money on cigarettes and forgot to eat most days and still to this day I couldn't tell you the exact reason why. I was likely in some form of depression but it felt too crazy to be depressed. I felt manic most of the time and wondered if my mother felt like this and we all ignored her. I wondered if my mother hated herself like I hated myself and I wondered if my mother ever thought about me as much as I thought about her.

I spent hours smoking outside my dormitory window, which was technically destruction of property to my university and they'd have grounds to kick me out for it but they never caught on, and even if they did I think I was too checked out at that time to care.

I felt like I was taking handfuls of painkillers but I felt too crazy to take anything so I never understood why I felt tired all the time. Robert stopped supplying me with Adderall so I was possibly withdrawing from it but it lasted too long to be that. I didn't stop smoking weed, which likely was not a good thing but it helped me go to bed and I had fun doing weed and I didn't have fun not doing weed. 

I would write in my journal while smoking out the window and I followed the belief that being a tortured artist leads to good work. Instead, it increased my chances of lung cancer and made me hate writing. Toward the end of May, I stopped writing and considered dropping out of school but the school year had finished and I knew my father would murder me if I didn't graduate. 

Alex arrived in May to play another show. I was supposed to meet him at the venue at 3 and instead arrived at 6 with no warning. I can't remember why I showed up late but I can't lie. There was probably no good reason.

There was nonsensical chatter before the show and Alex put up with my cold behavior until the end of the night when we were alone at my place.

After we had sex, I lay in the crook of his neck and thought about suffocating myself. I pressed my head so far into him that he yelped and asked me, "What are you doing?"

I softened my digging and thought that Alex no longer knew me. I don't know what was happening to me in those months but I was mad and didn't understand why he didn't see what I was doing to myself in those months.

"You never asked me about summer," I mumbled into his neck.

He closed his eyes and I felt like it was 2003 and I was begging him to kiss me again. He was so far removed from me and I feared I'd never have him in my grasp again. I held him tightly as he sighed. "We never talked about it."

"We never talk."

"I'm sorry." But it didn't sound like he was. He just sounded done.

"It's okay." I was more angry with him than I had ever been but I swallowed it like a dry pill.

"Are you going on your family trip?"

I was short with him. "Aruba."

"That'll be nice. For you and Stacey. I can see you by the water, drinking Piña Coladas." It comforted me that Alex pictured pretty things when all I was able to see was my inescapable rage. 

I thought about hooking up with a boy on vacation. One I had never met but one that would bring me out of this self-sacrificing funk. I choked my own spit when I thought about Alex. I wondered if he was just my human Band-Aid for the time. The way Joanie had kept me safe through secondary school, Claire had mended me through our first year of college, and Alex licked my wounds and said things were alright and sang me stupid songs and played cards with my sister while fires raged below but like Claire and Joanie and every boy Band-Aid I had before he would heal the previous wound before leaving with a chunk of me for the next one to fix. I cried then and he held me but I wondered how much longer he'd put up with this.

"It'll be fine, Janie." His hand stroked down my spine and he was oblivious to the terrible thoughts I was having, thinking he was consoling me over my family instead of him. "When will you be back?"

I sat up and he delicately wiped my cheek but had missed most of the wetness. I wiped my whole hand under my eye to dry the area. "Some time at the end of June. I can't remember."

"That's perfect." He smiled. "You can come to T in the Park and we're doing Oxegen so we'll be back in Ireland. I know how much you loved Ireland."

His touch felt foul on me. "I'm not your groupie."

My face had turned sour. "What's wrong?" Alex asked.

I tried to turn him away, insisting, "Nothing. I'm making a joke."

But he knew me too well. "No, you're not."

"I know when I'm making a joke and I'm making a joke," I mouthed at him.

But he was done. I had beaten up against him too many times for him to console anymore. "Whatever, Janie."

I scowled. "Well, fuck you." I was a ticking time bomb in those days. The slightest fire and I was going to blow.

Alex was oblivious, confused by the whole thing. I should take partial blame. I never opened up anymore. But he never asked anymore. He couldn't be bothered to give a shit anymore. Too much else on his mind to care about what was going on in mine. I only cared about what was going on in his. It was unhealthy consumption. He snapped, "What's wrong? What did I do to piss you off? You're crying and I'm comforting you and you're making digs at me."

I ripped my touch away from him. "You take everything so personal."

"I take everything so personal!" He sat up, showing frustration in talking with his hands. "Who the fuck are you then?"

I just stared at him.

He took a deep breath, rubbing his hair off his forehead. "I don't know what you want me to do. You seem to have an issue with everything I do."

I didn't accept his indolence. "Maybe everything you do is an issue. You ever thought of that?"

And he ripped off from there. "Do you have some bitch flip on?"

I got out of bed naked and made no mind to get my clothes on. I was too furious for clothes. "Fuck you. Calling me a bitch. You're a fucking joke. You're the biggest fucking asshole. You don't give a shit. You just care about yourself."

"Calm down, Janie—"

"Don't tell me to fucking calm down!"

"Okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Alright. Geez!"

I stood with my arms crossed over my boobs but made no move to cover my exposed cunt. I wanted him to see my naked body and for it to not be desirable. I wanted him to call me a cunt. I wanted him to do a lot of things. I wanted him to be here in the morning. Most of all, I wanted to be able to say things to him again.

We stood with our chest heaving and he stayed still in my bed and I stayed still, digging my left foot into my rug. "We'll be back for 2 weeks in July."

I didn't say anything and I wasn't sure if it was good enough but I got back into bed with him. Like everything else, we never talked about it.

*

I did end up sleeping with someone in Aruba. The worst part was I didn't regret it. I'm pretty sure Alex was doing the same thing on the road and sleeping with someone else based on a presumption that your boyfriend is doing the same is not a good method for a healthy relationship with either party, including yourself. But I didn't mainly do it off the presumption, I did it after those suggested piña coladas and a hot Dutch boy called me cute when I didn't feel it and it felt worth enough to sleep in his bed that night. I hadn't slept in Alex's bed in a long time.

In July, I went to Oxegen because Ireland is so beautiful and Alex is so beautiful and I didn't feel so beautiful so I hoped some of their beautiful would rub off and make me beautiful. I was just thinking about myself too much.

When Alex asked about Aruba I didn't mention the guy just like when I asked him about the tour he never mentioned a girl. If neither of us uttered it, it wouldn't be true.

My hair had grown longer. If I bent my head back I could feel it hit my butt. Alex's hair was longer and it curled out to the sides like Carole Brady. It felt like the coldest day of the year in July, pissing rain, and the sun nowhere in sight. We didn't do any exploring in Ireland like we did the year prior or in the years to come, not even the festival grounds as everything was too muddy, and walking around with Alex at festivals could be a tricky thing.

Before their set, we played Uno, a thing that has always calmed me, unlike regular card games where I feel pressed to bluff and prove how strategic I am. Uno got me laughing and I felt a little whole again even in all the rain, even if I felt my body was being torn limb for limb, I felt the torture was put on pause and the festival named Oxegen felt like the title fit.

After their set, where the rain stopped no one from chanting and moshing and I grew in amazement at the sight of all the people, we played more Uno. Halfway through the game, I tried to peek over at Alex's cards and he let me because he knew I wanted to win. He never placed the Draw 4 card down either. So, I kissed him that night. In a way that wasn't a greeting and wasn't an invitation for sex, just a loving kiss.

*

Of Alex's two weeks at home, I spent most of the time at his house. We ate dinner with his parents four times during the stay and spent hours on the riverbed at Charlton Dam. Alex would clump grass in his hand and dip his hands in the water to wipe off the dirt. I counted the leaves on the branches. I imagined a life where we had stayed in Yorkshire forever but I knew even in fantasy I wouldn't have been happy.

Alex brought his guitar one day and strummed on the strings until I fell asleep. When I woke he had fallen asleep beside me and I thought of living our lives in that grass forever like some version of Blue Lagoon without the cousin-fucking part. It seemed magical and looking over at him I was struck by his calmness. He had always been subdued but asleep he possessed a stillness that would steady oceans and stop the Earth from spinning on its axis but instead, he chose to sleep.

A little while later he woke up and strummed his guitar with an unknown tune and I wrote random sentences in my notebook. I wrote of the grass on my bare feet and the muttering Alex did under his breath and my mother's Bloody Marys. 

"I'm bored," he whined.

"You're frustrated." I could tell he was stuck on something, Alex rarely cited boredom.

He gestured to me, curling his fingers. "Gimme me something."

"Like what?"

"Gimme me one of your lines." He grabbed a hold of my notebook, something I usually shunned, but for some reason, I gave it over to him that day. "Her Bloody Mary must be lacking tabasco while she bites her lemon and thinks of when she used to be fun," he read aloud with a chuckle. "Scathing."

I took the notebook back. "Stop it," I warned him.

"No, I like it. I want more. Write me a song with me, Janie."

I rolled my eyes. "I suck at rhyming."

"Well, then you write and I'll rhyme."

So, I wrote crudely and crafted tales of lost adolescence that did not specifically pertain to my mother. I don't picture my mother and sex in the same sentence.

"Is that a mecca dauber or a betting pencil?" He burst into laughter, falling on his back, and rolling around. "Jesus, Janie, I'm stealing that."

"Yet another man taking credit for a woman's accomplishment."

"I'll give you the residuals."

"You will not be publishing this!" Fat chance. Nonetheless, at the time, he agreed to this.

The line is still the best thing I've ever written.

*

The band left for Australia and New Zealand at the end of July and Alex asked me if I would like to join but I turned him down for a reason I can't recall now. Many things happened in the summer of 2006 that I have blocked out and for the life of me, I can't remember. I used to hope that I would remember what happened but now I think my brain is doing me a favour. 

My maternal grandmother died the first week of August and I personally can't recall the trip to Sarasota, Florida, where she resided in her final years. Stacey has told me my mother cried the whole plane ride over in my arms and yelled at the flight attendant who tried to console her. My father flew in days later for the funeral and flew out the next day.

My mother wanted to remain in Sarasota for longer. She hadn't visited her mother in many years and the last time I saw my grandmother before her death I was 15. She had visited us in Wakefield, which she hated, and said it was shameful not to live in a metropolis like London. She spent her childhood working on farms and I heard loose stories of my grandfather being sent to a gulag. She didn't like the suburbs.

Then, she moved to Florida in her retirement. I had never been to Florida. 

I know my mother didn't like her mother very much but the reasons have never been told to me. I assume it's for many of the reasons I didn't get along with my mother but I also know my grandmother and mother experienced more tragedy in their lives than any human should ever endure. They were bonded for life through events that both never told and loved each other dearly but they didn't get along and they didn't like each other very much. I don't think they liked each other at all.

That week, we helped my mother and Aunt Daria clean out my grandmother's apartment. Harper helped the first couple of days before returning to England leaving most of the trip to be Stacy and me with my mother.

On the second Monday in August, my mother suddenly insisted we go to Miami. With little ability to resist our grieving mother, Stacey and I hopped into a car with my mother for 3 hours. I don't think my mother has ever been so calm. She laughed with us and told stories of her childhood and teenage years in Philadelphia and talked about her early life in Soviet Russia, something she never talked about. She asked Stacey about her friends and Stacey confessed to her worries about passing her A levels. My mother was comforting through it all, insisting that we would always be taken care of and Stacey, as the baby of the family, would always be her baby.

My mother then asked me about Alex. "How is he doing?"

"Fine." It was hard for me to figure out what to say. It was an unfamiliar thing to talk about anyone with my mother let alone my boyfriend. "Busy. The band's playing Sydney tomorrow. Or, I guess, today. I think they're 14 hours ahead of us."

My mother placed her palm on her chest and sighed, gushing, "God, I loved living in Sydney. I love all of Australia."

Stacey, unsafely unbuckled as we sped down I-75, leaned over the center console to ask my mother what she and I were both thinking, "When did you live in Australia?"

"Oh, for a short amount of time," she waxed sublimely. "Long before your father, must have been early 1973, I think. I remember coming from New York, which had been frozen over, and landing in sunny Sydney. We spent all day on the beach and drank for days with no care. " Does that mean she has care with her drinks now? "I learned how to surf. I was very adorable and darling. The Sydney Opera House opened while we were down there. Queen Elizabeth came down to open it and I remember watching from the crowd. The next year I was in London but I should have stayed longer. We should've."

"Who's we?" I asked.

She hesitated, I could tell. She gripped tightly onto the steering wheel and then sighed, releasing her hands. "My boyfriend at the time. He was this Australian hottie." I realized then that I had unintentionally written my mother's truth in "Fluorescent Adolescent." More worrisome, I feared I had written my future truth as thoughts of what-ifs regarding Alex were at an all-time high in spite of still being together. Although, it felt like we were barely together other than in writing.

"Mum!" Stacey whined. 

My mother ignored her plea. "I had my fun. I was very beloved. When we broke up I couldn't stand the city anymore. Then, I left for London with hopes of marrying into the Royal Family but alas I could've never been the people's princess."

"I didn't know you traveled much before dad."

She laughed. "That's all I did before your dad."

We stayed at a Holiday Inn and my mother never complained with the exception of the smell in the gym. We were quick to get out on the beach and my mother refused to go into the water but she sat in a chair and dipped her feet as she watched Stacey and I stumbled our way through the waves. Later, we all laid up on beach towels and gossiped about American celebrities and I thought of my mother on the beach in Sydney, which made me think of Alex lying on a beach towel in Sydney, which made me laugh.

Over dinner, for the first time in my life, I saw my mother reject a drink. Since I wasn't old enough to drink in the US, she said she wouldn't drink in the US, so instead we all drank pink lemonade.

That night, after Stacey went to bed, I snuck out to smoke a cigarette and call Alex. It would have been sometime around 2 PM there. He didn't pick up the first call so I decided to wait a few minutes before trying again.

My mother came out halfway through the cigarette and though I had never smoked in front of her, I'm sure she knew I did it. She asked for one and we sat in silence while she lit it. Stacey was no longer a buffer for us. 

She nodded toward my phone. "Calling Alex?"

"Yeah."

She exhaled the smoke and I felt the Miami humidity suffocating me. "The band must be doing pretty well if they're playing Australia."

"Yeah." 'Doing well' was a laughable statement but I didn't have much of an idea of what to say to my mother to explain how wrong this notion was.

"Are you two doing well?" She asked.

"Yeah." She stared at me and I could tell she wanted to know more and, for some reason, I felt implored to tell her like we were suddenly the Gilmore Girls or something. "As well as two 20-year-olds can do I suppose."

She chuckled and it felt funny for her to laugh at one of my jokes. "He seems fairly well-behaved for a 20-year-old boy."

"Yeah. He's great." She could tell what I was edging on and we sat in silence as she waited for me to spill. "But, he's so far, you know."

She shrugged. "That's what I like about your father. You'll be thankful for that kind of thing one day."

I felt a bitter and salty taste in my mouth. I don't like it when my mother talks this way.

She sighed. "I wish he'd stayed longer but I got my girls and that's good for me. If only Harper was here."

"What about Gary?"

My mother snorted. "Men are no fun in Miami. Gary would be shaming us for sunbathing." I laughed. It was an odd thing. "Are you mad Alex didn't come?"

I laughed at that idea too. "To Grandma's funeral, no. He's got a good excuse for not coming too."

"Does that annoy you?" My mother playing therapist of all people is laughable. I would have laughed at it then if she wasn't asking me what I wanted Alex to ask me.

I didn't dignify the question with an answer.

My mother tapped her cigarette on the bench's arm. "Why didn't you go with him this summer?" I stayed silent. "I would've let you go," she told me. 

"I know."

"I'm glad you were in Aruba. I'm glad you're here."

"Me too," I muttered. We listened to the cars drive by and if you focused for long enough you could hear the ocean waves. They coerced me to speak. "He didn't ask me to join. I didn't want to be the whiny girlfriend."

"So you're pouting with me instead?"

I sat up straight. "I'm not pouting."

"All you do is pout!" It was only a matter of time until she outburst. Just like me.

I didn't want to yell back at her. I didn't want to yell. It was 15 after midnight.

She offered her best solution. "Why don't you join him in Sydney?"

I rolled my eyes. "By the time I get to Sydney, he'll be in another town."

"Then, go to that town. It's young love, Jane, you're supposed to want to be near them. Why do you think I moved to Sydney?"

I shook my head.

"You don't want to hang out with Stacey and me that much. I know you can't stand me."

I feel bad that I didn't fight her on that. I have always loved my mother, even if she wasn't always worthy of that love.

"I'll buy you the ticket, darling." Darling was one of her dramatic words, she'd stretch it out syllable by syllable d-ar-lin-ggggg. It always felt elegant coming from her lips. "Miami doesn't suit your pale complexion anyway."

I laughed, she laughed, and then she dropped me off at Miami International Airport and I got on a plane to LA, which then took me to Tokyo.

*

I arrived in Tokyo a day before the band. I was too tired to do anything so I stayed at a capsule hotel at Haneda Airport after my flight and fell asleep almost instantly. I've never been able to sleep on flights and I think I slept longer in that capsule hotel than any other sleep in my life.

The band was coming from Osaka and I contacted Alex about my arrival but he never responded. Part of me felt like I was intruding but I thought of my mother's words and the delusions I had of Alex showing up in Sarasota prevented me from any great fear.

Alex told me earlier about the hotel they were staying at because he was excited about the advertised toilets that could open upon entry, play music, and give massages. I was creeped out by the whole thing. How can a toilet give you a massage?

I probably should have enjoyed more of Tokyo instead of waiting for the band's arrival in the hotel lobby but I liked my greeting idea too much to ruin it by seeing Sensō-ji, even if that monetarily would've been the better decision. I read The Year of Magical Thinking, my first Didion and a depressing choice for the plane ride over, but it felt right to read after a funeral.

He was dressed in an Adidas muscle shirt and was holding his duffel bag. I felt like a stalker, watching him from a distant couch. I had regret over Alex being uninformed of my arrival because these surprises made me nervous and left me with flushed cheeks and a pounding heart. 

I approached the band while they were waiting for the elevator. "Can I have your autograph?" I was really trying to play up the fangirl thing but it came off more embarrassing than I wanted.

I remember Matt was frightened and yelled out "Fuck!" which got him scolded by their manager and dirty looks from hotel patrons. Nick, who had only been in the band for about a month, looked confused. Jamie was the only one who looked normal, scrunching up his nose, and saying something whack. Alex just looked at me as if I were a ghost. I could see the wheels turn in his head as he tried to process what was in front of him.

"What? How? Huh?" He stuttered.

He hugged and kissed me, albeit awkwardly as he continued to look for answers. I gave them a short synopsis as we rode the elevator up. When we reached the fifth floor, we splintered off into our rooms with smart toilets.

Alex was sweet and possessive in his touch on me as he dropped his duffle bag and took me in his arms instead. The whole thing felt too romantic for two people who shunned hopeless ideas of kissing in the rain or cuddling in front of a fireplace but it was a precious and comforting thing as we finished and lay in a pile of consolement as I talked of my grandmother and the puzzle that was (and is) my mother.

He told me my mother was right, Sydney was real beautiful, and that he wished to take me there. I told him I was jealous that he was seeing the world without me. I insisted it to be a joke but he and I both knew that I was green-eyed over this fact but we both didn't acknowledge the fact that we were in Tokyo, seeing none of it because we both enjoyed seeing each other more than any city.

After their performance and a shower to get rid of all that sweat, Alex shook his hair like a wet dog. "Eek!" I squealed. "When are you going to cut your hair? You look like you got a mop attached to your head?"

"You don't like it shaggy?" He asked me as he pet it down.

I pushed a piece of his damp hair behind his ear, admiring his profile as he stared ahead at the bathroom mirror. "You just have to style it correctly."

"Do you want to cut it?" He offered. His eyes were hopeful and his trust in me felt unwavering. It made me smile and bubbles of bliss spread in my gut. There was never any doubt in me caring for him, just like I had no doubt he would always do right by me.

"With what? Do you have scissors?"

"I have my Swiss Army knife." I laughed but he grabbed the tool and flipped the small-scale scissors out of it, placing it in my hand.

"I'm not going to get much done with it," I told him as I stood behind him, combing his hair with my fingers.

"That's fine. Less for you to mess up."

I hit his shoulder and he chuckled with delight. I snipped a few ends off but not enough to make a significant difference. His hair had dried by the time I gave up. I offered the cutter to Alex. He was meticulous, knowing I was particular about these things. I had wanted my hair much shorter for a long time but it had to wait longer because he only snipped the deadends and kissed my temple. The whole thing felt like a holy ritual and I felt slightly creepy for keeping a piece of hair from it but it was more for the preservation of memory than to clone Alex or create a voodoo doll. It joined my trunk of trinkets. 

"I have something to give you." Alex searched through his bag, pushing things out of the way.

I spotted the white text popping off the black shirt. "Oh, my god, Alex," I laughed.

"Shit," he cursed, picking up the shirt. He shook his head at his ruined surprise. "I was going to do this whole romantic thing."

His precarious position of kneeling on one knee, looking up at me with the shirt in his hands led to a perplexed me. "By proposing?"

"Oh." He chuckled and stood up straight. Handing me the shirt that read I LOVE YOU WILL U MARRY ME. It had been graffitied on a Park Hill estate in Sheffield in 2001. I have held a deep love for the romanticism spread on the concrete bridge—something about its contrasting nature. "I found it in a shop in Auckland of all places."

I held the shirt up, examined the design, and then hugged the shirt to my chest. "Thank you. I love it. I'll wear it tomorrow."

*

I was woken up by Alex going to the bathroom early in the morning. He tried to be quiet but stubbed his toe on the way there. I stayed silent and while he was behind the bathroom door, I turned the bedside lamp on a low light.

In my vernal imagination, I pictured myself as being desirable. I wondered if I could be like those figures I saw in movies. Now, it sounds more of a porno than it is, but I hoped to be picturesque as opposed to X-rated. The kind of sophisticated class reserved for paintings of naked French girls where the demurity of women was dashed in pearls and bathed in light, shining effulgently. 

When I lied on my side, I felt capable of conveying this. Maybe it was the shade of lampshade light or how dark the rest of the room was, or the boy I was with. I felt like a siren, a vixen, a seductress. Alex came out rustled with sleep but he had awoken when his eyes landed on me.

We were curled—two parentheses. It couldn't have been long after we had finished like after the sexual release we had to have the emotional one. I have chosen to look back on what follows as poetic, especially with a song like 505. I suppose if I had never seen Alex again, I might view it as tragic. 

"We're flying to Austria tomorrow," he told me.

His arm curled around my waist and my heartbeat heightened at the fact he would have physical contact with me, intimate contact with me. "Okay."

"Do you want to come with me?" 

"School starts soon." I could have managed it if I truly wanted to but the difference was I didn't want to anymore because I had a feeling Alex would never be able to do that for me. Be where I wanted him to be. I couldn't blame him but I couldn't acquit him either.

"You think you'll make it to Reading & Leeds?" I hated how desperately hopeful he sounded. A quiver rang in his voice like we both knew what way the train was heading.

"Probably not. I'd like to be settled."

"We'll be done touring soon."

"And then what?"

"I don't know. Another album."

"Another tour."

"Yeah." He waited for a beat. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine." I turned into his chest, placed the crown on my head against the divet of his collarbone. "I don't know when I'll see you again and I don't like that."

"I don't either but we'll make it work," he assured. It just felt like a painful lie and I didn't want Alex to lie to me.

I cried, sobbed, wept into his chest and he held me as I shaked in a far more somber way than he had held me shaking earlier. For the first time, I said out loud, "I don't think I can."

I felt him swallow but he refused to say anything. When I looked up at him with blurry vision, his mouth was tightly closed and his eyes drifted far away. He was crying. I had never seen him cry before.

I wanted to care for him the way he cared for me. But I couldn't do that. It was easy then to know to let go. Alex didn't rebuff my admission with insistence that we could in fact make it work. He knew too.

We didn't say anything the rest of the night and when I left in the morning, we kissed and only said goodbye. It felt like too much to say anything else. I fear if he said something, a whisper of 'I love you,' I might have stayed and I knew, for us, I couldn't do that.

I left the shirt he gifted me in 505 and a week later, at the Lowlands Festival, he wore it onstage.

*

I stayed in a capsule hotel in Shinjuku City, near Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden. I felt like an aimless body in the days I stayed there. It was a scene out of Lost in Translation. I visited temples and shrines watching, among the tourists, those who believed. I was desperate for that faith. It had been ripped from me so young I didn't know how to have that unshaken faith in something. Alex had brought parts of it out but I was codependent and untrusting and untrustworthy and young. Not much felt right and now everything else felt wrong.

For those few days, I regretted my decision. I walked around wishing Alex was with me but when I returned to my capsule in the evening, I realized he wouldn't have been there even without our ending. 

On my last day, I took a train to Kamakura and stood before Kamakura Daibutsu, a giant Buddha statue. I wasn't suddenly changed, I wasn't radicalized, I didn't feel liberated, I didn't feel suppressed, I wasn't different. But I liked the feeling of being dwarfed by the figure, 13.35 metres, 93 tonnes. I could be crushed by it. I could climb it. 

I went inside it where scrawlings of graffiti had been etched. Some nonsense, some prayers. It's been there since 1252. I wonder how far back some of those writings went. I had thought about being somewhere for so long, so long after my time. But I couldn't think of anything to write therefore I would not change a thing there. 

I flew home the following day. Only a piece of me is left in Japan.

*

The leaves were turning burgundy and gold when I saw Alex again. I entered my final year of university with questionable standings but a determination to finish and obtain a job that I truly loved. I had begun renting a flat with Georgia in Tower Hamlets across from the cemetery park. The park had been heavily neglected, bombed during World War II, and had been overgrown with plants. It was open 24 hours so I would walk through it early in the morning when I was restless.

I got a text from him when I was there one morning, stuffed under a tree in the fog. He wrote that the band was in town, recording their next album, and—if I wanted—he would like for me to join them for drinks.

I never doubted saying yes. Alex was my friend first and I wanted him always to be my friend. He gave me the olive branch, I must accept it. I brought Georgia to be safe.

Alex and I hugged when I arrived and I sat on the opposite side of the booth from him. Georgia and I shared chips with Katie Downes, Jamie's new girlfriend. She was (and is) one of the cutest people I have ever known. It was easy to feel jealous of her; she was gorgeous and a glamour model, who usually would've been described as a sex kitten bombshell femme fatale with being a frequent cover girl of lad magazines, but she wore her hair with the front pieces pinned back with butterfly clips and licked ketchup off her fingers. It was impossible not to find her adorable when she cackled at one of my jokes.

I wore an engulfing hoodie and sweatpants with my fingers itching for a cigarette but I knew if I went outside Alex would come out and we'd be alone. We were both pretty quiet the whole night and I found myself longing for him to say something, angry at him for texting me, dangling himself in front of me. But then again I was too scared to speak too. I watched him watch my hand fidget on the table. I thought of that cigarette we could share. I laughed at Matt's joke instead. I'm not sure if it was the right decision.

We would remain in the same cities for most of December. Their next album was recorded in London but we didn't see much of each other through my choice. I worried that my rejection of these hangouts would come off as if I didn't want to be friends. I reassured him once over text, saying, I just need time. Busy. Busy was a half-truth, school was piling up but emotionally I'm not sure I was ready to laugh with Alex. I hung out with Matt some. It was like I never knew Alex. If we had never talked, if I wasn't mistaken to be named Jeanie and wasn't a nicotine addict. It was comforting to be close with Matt again. It was terrifying to feel like I never knew Alex.

Alex and me and London was exactly what I wanted for years. I wondered if he chose to record down there to be with me. If he had daydreams of coming home to a shared flat where, for once, we could be together together. Part of me indulged in these fantasies late at night before falling asleep. Other than that I didn't allow myself to think of what-ifs. I wrote instead of Japan and of Kamakura Daibutsu. My professor, Madeline Critchley, worked for Granta, a literary magazine, and told me to submit it. A few weeks later, it was selected to be featured. It was my first paid published work.

The issue came out months later, in the spring, but it felt wrong for Alex not to read it. I felt like a betrayal that would get back to him. I emailed him the piece and told myself to expect nothing in return from him. He delivered:

The way you write makes me feel as if I'm in front of the colossal Buddha. It always moves me. You have etched your graffiti on me. It'll stay there long after we're gone.

*

I stayed in London for most of my winter recess but returned home for Christmas. I hadn't told my family that Alex and I weren't together. My parents never asked and I pacified Stacey saying he was away for the holiday season, even if I knew he was back home too. The 30-minute drive between us never felt longer.

Harper and Greg had returned home too with their spouses. On Christmas Eve, Stacey and I made sugar cookies and my mother displayed store-bought gingerbread men. We settled on watching Bridget Jones's Diary while eating these cookies. My mother and sister joined us because of their deep love of Colin Firth and my brother-in-law joined us because of his deep love for my sister. We sat below the Christmas tree which was my mother's pride and joy during Christmas. She'd drink eggnog while she wrapped garland around the tree and herself.

20 minutes into the film my phone buzzed with a text from Alex, who was outside. I knew I couldn't get away for long with this rare occasion of family time. I slipped on my winter boots, not even bothering to tie the shoelaces, and hoped my hoodie would suffice against the freeze outside. 

Alex was outside the front door in a bulky winter coat that I imagine his mother had dressed him in. "Hi." He was quiet. Everything outside my house felt quiet with a pure landscape of ice and snow and nobody daring to go outside this late on Christmas Eve. 

"Hi." I was quiet too.

"I have this—a little thing," he said, fiddling in his pocket before taking out a Christmas cracker. It was red with little snowflakes on it and my favourite holiday tradition. "I thought we'd pull it together."

"Well, you know me and my competitive nature," I mused. 

We sat on my porch bench, cleared of snow. He took one end and I took the other and with one big yank, it popped. I looked down and he had the bigger half, all the favours inside. "I win," he cheered.

I smiled through the awkwardness as he pulled the paper crown out and settled the rest back on the bench. He unraveled the pink paper, looked down at it, and placed it on my head. I giggled. "Are you too scared to wear pink?"

He shrugged. "Suits you more than me." He picked up his half of the cracker and handed it to me. "Show me what else I got."

I poured the remains out, reading the card first. "What do you call forty rabbits hopping backwards?"

"What?"

"A receding hareline." 

He snorted at the terrible joke. "Hopefully I'll be fine." He patted down his hair.

"You got it cut," I noted. It was cleaned up and the most tamed I had ever seen his hair. It was combed down in the front, stopping before his eyebrows, cut around his ears, and shiny.

"Yeah," he nodded, "got my local barber and all."

I chuckled and looked at the trinket in my hand: a mini deck of cards. I held it up to him and he asked, "Shall we play gin rummy with them?" 

I want January back. I want the car ride. I want the songs. I want those stupid guitar picks I made him for his birthday. I want to be the fun intelligent couple. I want it all back. It's mine. "Why'd you come here?" I asked.

He seemed confronted by this question like he didn't think I would have the nerve to ask it. I fidgeted and opened and closed his mouth several times, thinking of words to say. "I don't know. I missed you."

I only managed to say, "Okay."

"We're back on tour in February. It's more formal this time. A proper tour. We'll have breaks and downtime and—"

"Alex," I stopped him. My head was shaking, unable to process the thought. I was looking down at my hands, cold and chipped, looking for warmth. I thought of December last year when he gave me his gloves and had no qualms about being left with cold hands. Everything in me felt cold now and he made no effort to warm me and I couldn't blame him for it.

I could feel his eyes on me but I couldn't look at him. It was easy to picture his face, mouth downturned and eyes begging for relief. "It's not enough, is it?"

My voicebox died. I couldn't move myself to say anything despite thinking everything. 

"Do you want to go for a drive?" He asked me.

My head kept shaking. I didn't want to ruin that for us.

He laughed wetly. I could tell he was crying and the only way to prevent himself from caving in was to chortle. "Last time you rejected a car ride from me we didn't speak for months. I don't want to do that."

With my head still shaking and my eyes on my hands, I finally said, "We'll always be friends."

It was silent for a while and I began to sing "Silent Night" in my head to prevent myself from sobbing. Alex shifted, pulling away from me, he turned his head. I looked up to only see the back of it. He cleared his throat, tapped his foot, and in avoidance of my gaze said, "I'm sorry."

"Me too."

His eyes finally landed on mine. They were red and every bone in me was guilt-ridden. "Don't be. It's my fault for making things harder. I didn't mean to do it but I did and then I ignored it for too long."

"We both did things wrong. Young and stupid."

"I should've stayed in Tokyo."

"You couldn't have—"

"I could've. If I fought for it. It was over by that point anyway, right? Even if I had stayed and we saw that giant Buddha, things were too far gone?"

It hurt but I nodded.

He exhaled.

"I have to go," I announced. I wiped the remaining tears. "We're watching Bridget Jones's Diary."

Alex nodded. We stood up together and I walked him over to his car. He turned back with a smile, despite the blur in his eyes. "Have fun watching Hugh Grant," he teased. "I'll kill him if I have to."

I laughed but it wounded more than it amused. He got into his car and I watched him wrap his hands around the steering wheel. I walked back to my front door and looked back and his car was still there. I forced a smile to qualify me for Miss America and waved. He grinned, the best he could to not look like Cheshire Cat, and waved. Then, I went back inside and he drove away.

*

a/n: i don't have much to say. i'm a little mixed on this but i'll just leave it at that.

[afewproblems]

Prompts!

50. “I need you to forgive me.”

OR

53. “I’m flirting with you.”

Whichever vibe you’re feeling ☺️ -steddierthings

Ahhh! Thank you for this @steddierthings this one got sad, even though I ended up going with 53. "I'm flirting with you."

"Eddie! Eddie, wait!" Steve calls after him, tearing down the hallway as Eddie makes a beeline for the front door, an angry flush staining his cheeks and neck.

Eddie ignores the urgency in Steve's voice as he grabs the door handle only to stumble as a pair of hands grasp his shoulders.

"Eddie please--"

"Just fuck off," Eddie snarls, whirling around to face him. Who the hell did he think he was, that Steve could say these things, do these things, without any consequences?

Steve flinches, raising his hands in surrender, but he holds his ground as he steps closer, expression determined.

"If you would just let me explain--"

Eddie laughs over Steve's words, a harsh mirthless sound, "explain what exactly?" 

It was one thing for Eddie to quietly pine from afar, to know in his heart of hearts that his feelings could never be returned. 

It was another to have them thrown in his face like this. 

"I know you told me a little about Ozzy that day, you know in the woods?" Steve says softly as he replaces the Tears for Fears cassette with another tape -this one with a handmade label on both sides. 

"And I know you like, uh, Metal and rock music," Steve continues, ignoring the pained snort Eddie makes from his position on the couch. 

It's another night, just the two of them. 

Robin left them about an hour ago to finish their movie, 'alone,' though why she said it that way, Eddie has no idea. 

"So I made this for you," Steve says, pressing play on the cassette player in the Harrington living room.

A mixture of synth and guitar pour out from the speakers as drums soon join them, snapping out a heavy rhythm as the singer starts, his voice a little higher than Eddie was expecting for the music.

'We are secrets to each other

Each one's life a novel

No-one else has read

"It's uh, Rush, do you know them?" Steve says in a near whisper as he walks back to where Eddie is sitting on the couch. He's playing with his fingers, picking at his thumbnail in the same way Robin does when she's nervous, but what the hell would Steve have to be nervous about right now, Eddie thinks to himself as Steve sits down with a shy smile. 

'Even joined in bonds of love

We're linked to one another

By such slender threads'

"I uh, thought you might like the guitar in it, it's not as like, present as some of their other songs though," Steve mumbles with a shrug as he continues looking at Eddie with soft eyes.

He's moving closer now, close enough that Eddie can feel the warmth of Steve's breath on his face, what the hell is he doing?

"Yeah, I've heard of them, they aren't really my thing," Eddie says nervously, inching backward, his eyes widen as Steve follows him, his eyes drop down to Eddie's mouth so quickly he nearly misses it.

'I think it's time for us to realize

The spaces in between

Leave room

For you and I to grow'

"Eddie," Steve whispers, his eyes flutter nearly closed, "can I, I really like you--"

No. He can't think about it again.

He can't think about the freckles he counted, dusting Steve's nose, the flecks of green and gold in his eyes just before they closed to reveal long brown lashes. 

The way his nose felt as it brushed Eddie's own just before he scrambled away across the couch, leaving Steve there with confusion and alarm painted across his face.

It would have been so easy to let himself have this, to go along with whatever prank Steve had obviously concocted. Even if it meant letting him shatter Eddie's heart, just so he could have the chance to feel those lips against his own just once.

"You got me King-Steve, let's all make fun of the freak right?" He scoffs and reaches behind himself for the door handle again.

"I'm flirting with you, Eds, I promise," Steve insists, moving closer into Eddie's space, he reaches for his shoulders again only for Eddie to turn the handle and evade Steve's hands as he steps over the threshold.

"Asshole," Eddie huffs as he makes his way back to his van, leaving Steve standing on his front step, watching mournfully as Eddie gets into the van and peels out of the driveway.

Part Two and Part Three