#mobile widow

[the-blackest-spider]

This is me right now.

I'm in a state of limbo, sort of. I'm trying to figure out how to live life without having someone who needs 24/7 care as a part of it and not really having anything I need to have an escape from reality wise. It's an odd sort of struggle... I want to write, I still very much have muse and such, I think about the ooc and ic relationships I've cultivated here, more importantly those behind the characters who have been there when I've needed it the most even if they had no idea at the time.

I feel like I'm learning how to live each day all over again, and this is coming from someone who had one hell of a personal brush with death. I'm trying to finally take care of myself and learning how to do that...

Does that mean I'm never coming back here?

Truthfully I don't know...

I wish I did either way, but right now I'm figuring things out, and I don't know how long that is going to take. I wish I did, but it's one of those things that just you can't predict.

Also I have this really strong desire to have most everything fresh and new, as well as smaller and more simplified. I have no plans to remake Nat's blog, if I return to tumblr, it will be here, but I'm wanting something I can take wherever to do that with, so I need to figure that out, and get things (finances) back in order so I can (most importantly I need a new damn mattress, which kind of effects my being here too in a way).

I guess I'm realizing I need time... how much? I don't know and I really can't predict it or even ballpark it. In light of that, I completely 100% don't blame anyone for moving on, don't feel like you have to wait for me, if you do great, but I understand if you can't. I need to brush off Discord and whatnot, tho lately these days I seem to gravitate towards Facebook, which if we've talked a lot, you're more than welcome to ask for even if it's just to use their messenger deal. I'm also always ok Skype, though lately it's been questionable with reliability, but yeah...

I'm just stuck in figuring shit out limbo and wading through A LOT.

I hope everyone is doing good, and I'll make updates when I can, when I know fully what I'm doing besides the necessary basics of adult life aka sleeping, work and all that, with some exercise tossed in, since I am trying to take better care of the whole package here mental and physical, and I hope y'all are taking care of yourselves too as best you can.

[the-blackest-spider]

@poeticphoenix

[fireflysummers]

Another finished commission, featuring Grace from the mobile game Dragalia Lost. The completion of this piece is conveniently timed with the game's anniversary, which was yesterday (Sep 28).

The game was discontinued last year, so this is mostly an in memoriam tribute, for the commissioners favorite overpowered character.

Commissions are Open!

[paxesoterica]

[turojo]

Great news I'm asking a character question. If Turo had a preference for fanfiction what would it be?

“ .. Excuse me? ‘Fanfiction’? Is that a fad or meme of some sort? I’m not knowledgeable on social media tropes or what haves.”

Being terminally online but not knowing what the hell fanfiction or social media is. If he’s ever on the internet at all it’s to look at emails or document research papers, forums and journals.

But theoretically he’d probably be amused at every “pairing” he sees….

Cept the ones with Sada. He raises both brows at those with a grumble.

[gunlovingpacifist]

Here's some cool nature, survival of the fittest shit you don't see every day.

[clochanamarc]

no but all those insta reels where they're acting out the roles of like, children of superheroes or supervillains?? it's got me thinking abt how aisling devotes her role as a parent to making sure her foster kids never feel like they need to enter that role of heroism or villainy, but it's like. she's raising these kids in manhattan. they are at the epicentre of most extraterrestrial, mystical, magical, cosmic battles. their mother has the soul stone in her chest. and the idea of her trying so hard to give them the agency to make their own choices but also wanting to keep them safe from this very terrifying world they occupy??

and what a surreal difference is made when the child in question is hers and another person biologically? like, when another person is involved in the parenting choices, and how these things influence how the kids mature and grow into adults in a universe dominated by magic and power and heroes and villains??

[joyfulmagic]

Open Starter— Muse: Adelina — Verse: Crimson Pistol — Open to: anyone

“Everyone acts like I am trying to replace her. No, I just want to honor her memory,” Adelina snapped, “she’s irreplaceable and no one can fill her shoes.” Adelina ran her fingers through her ponytail before tightening it, then checking her boots to make sure they were properly laced up.

“If people stopped expecting me to be like the other widows, it’d be much appreciated,” she scoffed, holstering her main pistol on her waist and checking to see that her widow bites were fully charged.

[dominosohma]

Yall go see my friends. ❤️

[the-blackest-spider]

First of all, I apologize. I'm just getting to this now. To make a long story short, both my laptops that I have (my big one and the mini) are basically on their last legs, they've been well used but despite them being compatible I think Windows 11 is the culprit for it. So I need to get a new laptop, and that will take a bit of time because I wanna research before I invest in one and while I like the big screen I'm also considering I need something easy to take with me when I want to, but anyway that's some of the reason my ass hasn't been here, the other is my Mom is back in the hospital again, and we're not sure what is going to go on because everyone thought we had figured out how to keep her fluid retention off, buuuut apparently not and there's other stuff (she had kidney disease/failure and congestive heart failure) that has us all going basically day by day.

Annnd besides my Mom's health situation my Aunt and I are both having issues, and work is stressful...

Basically when it rain it fucking pours and it's flooding.

Anyway, I apologize that I've been so flaky lately because of stuff, and I miss writing with y'all and hope everyone is doing okay. ❤️

[wanderingandfound]

So on one hand rereading all this MCU fic does make me wanna finish, edit, and publish the fic I had so much inspiration for back in, oh, summer of 2016. On the other hand, it turns out I just completely forgot about some characters from AoS, which is fine because I don't need them in my fic, but like this is just reminding me of how I don't really wanna rewatch that show.

[yelenasdiary]

For the AU request, what about nervous Wanda asking Natasha to take R out just the two of them. Maybe they just go to the park or to a movie. R being 5 :)

Can't Say No

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Daughter! Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Wanda wants to get to know you a little more and asks your mom if she can take you out for the day. 

Comfort

Warnings: None | 2K

Translations: милый (darling), мед (honey), 

AC: Thank you for sending this! I love the idea; I hope you enjoy it! x

A Widow’s Sunshine Masterlist

"Do you want cheerios or porridge for breakfast?" Your mother asked with a soft smile as you took a seat at the small wooden table in the kitchen with your favorite stuffie sitting beside you, "uhm, porridge please!" You replied with a sweet smile that your mother loved so much. "Coming right up!" She said, reaching for the cupboard. You weren't much of a fuzzy child which was something Nat was a little thankful for, you'd eat most things, you loved your fruits and most of your vegetables, but you weren't too big on meat because you didn't like when it would get stuck in your teeth. 

While the porridge cooked in the microwave, your mom poured you a small cup of orange juice and placed it in front of you just as the microwave peeped. "Thank you, mommy" you said before you took a small sip of your drink. Your mother returned with your breakfast in hand, placing a kiss on the top of your head, "it's a little hot милый, we'll just give it a moment to cool, okay?" She said. You nodded, not too fussed. 

"What are doing today mommy?" You asked, looking up at her. 

"Well, baby, mommy has to go into work and do a little paperwork so I thought we could go to the park afterwards, how does that sound?" She replied, stirring your breakfast around. 

"Can Dory come?" You asked. Your favorite stuffie named after a character from one of your favorite movies. 

"Of course, милый" Natasha smiled right as her mobile began to buzz, placed your breakfast in front of you and reached for her back pocket. "Be careful baby, if it's too hot, give it a few more minutes, okay?" She said, you nodded but it was just right to eat. Natasha looked down at her phone, butterflies fluttered in her stomach when she read Wanda's name on her screen, and she wasted no more time before answering. 

"Wands, hi!" Your mother said in a sweet tone as she slowly wandered out of the kitchen, 

"Hey, sorry if I called too early" Wanda replied. 

"Don't stress, I just finished making Y/n breakfast, is everything okay?" 

"Everything is fine" Wanda replied and Nat was sure she could hear the soft smile through the phone, "I was just calling because you mentioned yesterday that you were gonna head into the compound today and catch up on some mission reports so I thought and of course if you're not okay with it, I completely understand but I was wondering, you could be okay if I took Y/n for the day? That way you can get as much work done as you need, and Y/n and I will get some time to get to know one another more. But like I said, it's completely fine if you're not okay with that, I just thought I'd ask" She added. 

"Actually, that would be really helpful, let me just ask Y/n" Natasha couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. Having you meet her partner was a big seat for Natasha and it meant the world to her to know that Wanda wasn't put off about the idea of Nat being a single parent and she loved knowing that Wanda wanted to get to know you more. 

Your mother came back into the kitchen and smiled softly at you, "мед, would you like to spend a few hours with Wanda today instead of coming to work with me?" She asked. 

You enjoyed Wanda's company, you liked her long hair and the funny faces she could pull, you nodded instantly with a growing smile, "yes please!!" You almost jumped out of your chair, making Natasha chuckle. 

"I'm not sure if you heard that but I have a very excited little girl who would love to spend the day with you" Nat said back to Wanda. 

"Well, I am glad! Tell her I am very excited too! Shall I come by and pick her up in an hour?" Wanda asked. 

"Sounds perfect to me, thank you detka, we'll see you soon" Nat replied before hanging up. 

An hour later and you were waiting by the front door of the small apartment you lived in with your mother, dressed and full of excitement for your day with Wanda. Your mom braided your hair just like she did hers, as requested by you of course. "She's here!! She's here!!" You called, jumping up and down when you heard a knock at the door. Your mom chuckled at your excitement and grabbed your backpack which had some snacks and your drink bottle in it before opening the door. 

Wanda smiled instantly when she saw just how excited you were, "Hi Wanda!" You greeted her with your stuffie, Dory, in your arms. "Good morning, Y/n and I believe that is Dory?" Wanda replied. You turned and looked up at your mother with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, "she knew Dory's name mommy!!" You said with shock. 

Both adults chuckled, "I told you, she can read minds" Natasha smiled. Of course you didn't think she was being serious. "Make sure you're a good girl for Wanda, okay?" Your mother kneeled in front of you and placed a kiss on your cheek, "I'll be the best mommy! So will Dory!" You smiled. 

Nat handed your backpack to Wanda and explained what was inside while you waited so patiently to spend the day with your new friend. You said goodbye to your mother and took Wanda by the hand before the two of you began to walk down the hall to the evaluator and out into the busy street. 

"Is there anything you would like to do today?" Wanda asked while the two of you walked hand in hand down the street to her car. "Mommy was going to take me to the park today" you said, but not too sure on what on earth you wanted to do besides that. 

"Well, how about we do to the movies and then after that we can have lunch in the park?" Wanda offered, your eyes lit up and your smile only grew bigger as you nodded. 

----

Wanda took you to see Shrek 2, she let you pick the movie, and it was a hard pick between Shark Tale or Shrek 2 but when you saw Puss in Boots on the cover, the choice was made. You enjoyed a small soda and shared some popcorn and giggles with Wanda throughout the movie. To Wanda's surprise, you weren't tired at all after the film, in fact it was almost as if you had more energy than before but then again, you are the Black Widow's daughter. 

After the movies, Wanda let you pick what the two of you would have for lunch. You picked the small pizza restaurant that was only a short walk from the cinema. Wanda brought you a slice of your pick and then it was off to the park. Of course, Wanda didn't let you run off to play until you had some of your pizza and some water but once you did, you were off making friends with many of the other children on the playground. 

"Wanda!" You said, running up to her while she sat watching you from the park bench, "can you please look after Dory?" You asked, face red from all the playing you had been doing, "I don't want her to get dirty" you added. 

"Of course, I can" Wanda smiled as you handed her your stuffie, "I will look after her with the best of care" she added with confidence. You thanked her and then it was off to play some more. 

When it was time to start heading home, Wanda noticed you playing in the bushes by yourself, she frowned slightly as she walked over to you with Dory in one hand and your backpack in another, "Y/n, is everything okay?" She asked, startling you. 

"Look, Wanda!" You said, pointing into the bushes. Just as Wanda kneeled down, a small black kitten popped out of the bushes, you giggled when the little kitten brushed up against you which brought relief to Wanda who wasn't sure what to expect at first. 

"Can I take her home to mommy, please?" You begged, catching Wanda off guard. 

"Oh, uhm, I'm n-"

"Pleaseeee" you begged and honestly, who was Wanda to say no too? 

"Well, alright, but we should get you both home before it gets too late, I'm sure your mom would like you to have a bath before dinner" Wanda smiled, reaching for her phone and texting Natasha right away, "just know, I tried to say no" she texted before the two of you started walking back to her car. 

----

Natasha could hear your little voice in the hall, which brought a smile to her lips as she opened the door to greet you but what she saw you in your arms made Wanda's text message make sense. "Hi мед, who is this?" Your mother asked as you smiled at her. 

"A kitty I found at the park, Wanda said I could bring her home" you replied honestly. The small kitten took Natasha by surprise, you had already fallen in love with the little animal that she quickly noticed how Wanda tried to say no.

"I tried" Wanda whispered. 

"Can we keep her mommy, please?" You begged, placing the kitten on the floor. 

"мед, we don't know where this kitten has been, we would need to take it to the vet first" your mother replied, "she was in the bushes" you said back, not letting any excuses pass by, "please mommy, I will let you name her!" You offered. Wanda tried to hide the smirk that tugged at her lips, you were most definitely Natasha's daughter, that's for sure. 

There was a moment of silence, your mother unsure how to tackle this but on one hand, she didn't see the harm in allowing you to have your first pet. "How about you go wash your hands and I'll have a think about it, and we can talk more about it after dinner" your mother offered and just to win your mother over, you did exactly what she asked. 

Wanda stayed for dinner, the three of you enjoying some lasagna while you fed tiny pieces of mince to the little kitten, both Nat and Wanda noticed how the kitten didn't seem to leave your side, even when you came home and placed her on the floor, she was by your feet which to Wanda is more of a sign but to Nat it was going to be harder to tell you that you couldn't keep the animal. 

"Look mommy, she has the same eyes as Wanda" you pointed out after dinner, now your mother definitely couldn't say no. Wanda chuckled, "that is pretty cool" she said but your mom just smiled softly as she placed the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. 

When the time came for Wanda to go home, you didn't want her to go but it was almost your bedtime and Wanda promised to come see you again another day. "Thank you for all the fun today!" You smiled before giving Wanda a hug, "you are more than welcome, thank you for the fun" she replied.

"милый, how about you and Liho go get ready for bed and I'll be in to read to you in a few minutes?" Your mother smiled softly at you as your eyes widened, "we can keep her?" You asked, earning yourself a nod from your mom. "Thank you, mommy!!" You hugged her tightly before running off to your room with little Liho running shortly behind. With you distracted by your new little friend, Natasha was able to show Wanda just how much she really appreciated her help today, kissing her deeply, something she had waited all day to do. 

"Promise me on thing" Natasha said, her hands placed on Wanda's hips. 

"Depends" Wanda bit her bottom lip making Nat lightly chuckle, "next time you and my daughter hang out, no more pets" Nat replied (not so) jokingly. 

"Hey, if you couldn't even say no, how do you think I'm supposed too? Besides, it got me a little extra date so I'm not complaining" Wanda replied with a playful wink. "Great, now I have two people I can't say no too" Nat rolled her eyes playfully before giving Wanda one last kiss for the night.

Taglist: @koinsss | @liloandstitchstan | @marcia-maximoff | @skittlebum | @katethewritersblog | @taliiiaasteria | @nova-kyle | @daddipantherr | @riyaexee | @sgm616 | 

If you want to be on the taglist for this series, please see the masterlist. It's linked at the top of this post.

[hungee-boy]

Our House is Unsafe, Help Us Gain a New Start

Do NOT tag as #d*nation, #m*tual aid, #p*ypal, #c*shapp, etc.

My name is Ross and I'm the oldest child of my family, with whom I currently live with. Our household consists of me, my widowed mother, and my three younger siblings, the youngest being 16. My dad died suddenly in his sleep November of 2021 and since then we have struggled pretty much every day to keep ourselves alive and housed.

Our house, my childhood home, is a 3 bedroom mobile home built in 1990 and for as long as I can remember, it has always been hoarded and falling apart. Over the past few years, we've made significant progress in reducing the hoard and giving us space to live in, but still this is a 30+ year mobile home that is damaged beyond our capability to repair.

Problems that exist currently in our house include:

No working HVAC

Half of the house has no power

Weakened floors due to water and pet damage

Outdoor siding rotting due to plant growth and water damage

Major leaks in the covered porch's roof, causing immense water damage and mold growth

Drywall, ceiling, and flooring damage (our entire kitchen's floor is just plywood now due to damage)

So many other issues that I've honestly lost track

We, of course, originally planned to slowly fix whatever issues had come up, but our plans changed when we came across a deal to purchase a brand new 5 bedroom mobile home for a discounted price. Not only does a new house such as this give us a safe, secure, and clean place to live, but the additional rooms ensure that all of us have our own bedroom and that we have more space to live and work. Currently, me, my mom, and my sister all share the master bedroom, so obviously the concept of all of us having our own privacy is leading us to make this decision more.

Right now, we currently have $2,000 put towards the down payment for the new house, out of a $9,000 down payment. We are able to make payments early and we expected to be able to put money down every month, until my mom's job fucked her over and didn't schedule her for 6 weeks. This greatly put us behind not just on payments for the new house, but also bills and getting my mom's car insured and registered, as it's now a year overdue for both.

I'll do anything for this chance, anything if it means that my family and I can finally have a home we deserve, a home my dad would've wanted for us.

I'm desperate, we're all desperate, for a chance to live normally for the first time in our lives. Living in squalor is all I've known and the opportunity to escape it is honestly the only thing keeping me going right now.

I don't know what I'd do if I'm forced to live in this shithole another year, let alone for the rest of my life. So, please, if you have the means I'd forever be grateful if you donate. If you can't donate, then please share this. It would mean everything to me.

Links:

[PP] [CA]

Thank you if you read this, thank you if you share, and thank you so so much if you donate.

[joyfulmagic]

“I am not here to make friends, I’m here widow to widow seeking aid,” Arina told Yelena bluntly. “Friends get you killed, family? Even worse,” she scoffed. She didn’t appear much older than Yelena, yet was from one of the first generations of attempts at making Widows. Before Dreykov as even in the picture.

“Your sister is a hero, and I think you’ll want to help me when you hear what I have to say about this mission,” Arina added, looking down in mourning over the Black Widow.

“They’re trying to revive the Red Room — not sure who they are yet — but I plan to intercept and make it something truly good and meant to help genuinely abandoned young people,” Arina explained, tossing a Manila envelope with the details of what she knew in it.

open starter: yelena open to m/f/nb

"Just because you knew my sister doesn't mean that we have to be friends."

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 4

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 2.3k

Note : thank you for all the love for this series. Please let me know if I’ve missed tags because I’m currently doing it on mobile and I’m not used to it!

Series Masterlist

“Porcelain Smile”

Monday, the next week.

"We can take today slow," Bucky said, as if reading your thoughts. "No pressure, alright?"

It was your first visit, and a mixture of fear and excitement knotted in your stomach. Maybe this would help… maybe it would bring something back.

You nodded, grateful for his patience. He’d been so sweet all week, giving you space even though it was clear he’d been hurting too.

After a while, you get out of bed. As you make your way to the living room, you’re greeted by a familiar face. 

A former widow you could’ve sworn you’ve only seen in newspapers.

Yelena Belova was leaning against the kitchen counter, her eyes lighting up the moment she saw you.

"There she is," Yelena said with a hesitant grin, though there wasa softness in her voice. 

You smiled weakly, feeling both comforted and awkward. Yelena walked over, pulling you into a hug without hesitation. When Yelena hugged you, her arms wrapped tight around your shoulders, you felt safe for a moment—until the smell of her perfume hit you. It was too familiar, too personal, and suddenly you couldn’t breathe. 

She let go, stepping back with a smile, but you could only manage a weak nod in return. You had no idea what to say to a person who clearly loved you when you didn’t know if you loved her back.

"Don’t worry, you’ll remember soon," she murmured into your ear, though the words sound like more of a hope than a certainty.

Tuesday.

Scott Lang and Hope Van Dyne stopped by today. 

Scott was his usual self—at least that was what Bucky said—casually confident, cracking jokes the moment he stepped into the room like he was on stage at a comedy club, performing just for you. His humour was a welcome distraction, even though the memories he dredged up were cloudy at best.

“Hey, remember when we accidentally got you stuck in the quantum realm?” Scott said with a wide grin, nudging Hope as if the memory was a shared inside joke. 

He laughed at the absurdity of it, but when you shook your head with a soft, apologetic smile, his grin faltered just a bit— enough for you to notice.

“Right,” he stumbled, “That’s alright! we’ll make new memories”

Hope, ever the more grounded of the two, caught the slight shift in his tone and gently jabbed his side with her elbow. 

She turned to you, her eyes soft and sincere, her presence was calming in a way that let you breathe just a little easier. 

“We’re just glad you’re here,” she said gently. She didn’t try to fill the silence with more words, didn’t push for you to remember or laugh at the right moments. 

Scott shot you a thumbs up, his grin slowly returning as Hope rolled her eyes.

“Hey, at least I didn’t try to shrink the furniture this time,” Scott joked, trying once more. And this time, you found yourself smiling—just a little. A new memory, however small, was already in the making.

Wednesday.

Clint Barton dropped by this afternoon, a lopsided smile on his face and a pie in his hands, the warm scent of cinnamon and baked apples filled the room even before he walked in the door. 

The flaky golden crust shimmered slightly in the light, and your stomach gave a quiet grumble in response.

As soon as you took a bite, you slumped back on the couch and hummed, satisfied. It was perfect. 

The sweetness wasn’t overpowering, the spices were just right, You couldn't help but take another bite. 

“Laura baked it for you," Clint said with a casual shrug, as if bringing over perfect pies was an everyday thing.

And maybe it was. Maybe you just didn’t remember.

He lingered in Bucky’s apartment for a while, longer than you thought he would

“You know," he said after a pause, "if you ever want to talk, or just need someone to listen... I’m around." There was no rush to his words, no pressure, just a simple offer.

Thursday. 

Rhodey and Happy dropped by on Thursday, their presence steady and comforting. They didn’t say much about the memory loss, but somehow their casual banter helped ease the tension in the room.

Rhodey leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "You still remember how to fight, right?" he teased, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Happy chuckled from the other side of the room, finishing off a sandwich. "And drive. You better still remember how to drive. You’re not the kind of Avenger who has access to flying suits."

You smiled, even though you weren’t certain. "I think so," you said softly.

Rhodey nodded. "If you ever need a laugh, we’ve got plenty of embarrassing stories about you."

"Yeah," Happy chimed in, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Like that time at Clint’s old apartment. You remember that?"

You shook your head, laughing. "Do I want to remember?"

"Maybe not," Rhodey said, exchanging a knowing look with Happy. "But trust me, it was a good time."

Friday.

And then there was Bruce Banner. His visit was calming, his presence measured and kind. As he approached, squeezing in the low-ish ceiling of Bucky’s apartment, he gave you a small, reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

“It’s going to take time,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, almost clinical in its precision. “But you’ll adjust. And the most important thing to remember is—” he paused, meeting your eyes, “we’re all here for you.”

Saturday.

It had been two weeks since you first arrived at Bucky’s apartment, two weeks since your life had spiralled into uncertainty.

More than two weeks now since the mission that went wrong. 

In that short span of time, the unfamiliar walls around that belonged to Bucky had started to feel strangely like home. The corners of his space, once sparse and distinctly his, had now woven pieces of you into their strands—a small bracelet Bucky brought from your apartment to fiddle on when your anxious laid the bathroom sink, a mug he designated to you sitting half-full on the coffee table, a pair of slippers you didn’t know you had was lined up next to his by the door. Even the necessary things were a sweet reminder that you were welcome here— your toothbrush set next to his, the extra towels draped behind the door.

These were everything Bucky had picked up from your apartment to bring here. 

It wasn’t much, but these little fragments of your life had started to make his apartment feel like a haven—a sanctuary. A place where you could at least try to slowly untangle the web of intricacies that had made its way into your life.

You might never untangle them fully, but at least you weren’t alone.

He had sensed your hesitation early on, of course. Bucky wasn’t one to miss even the subtlest of signs. He studied the way your shoulders tensed when you crossed this threshold of his home. He saw uncertainty in your eyes as you set your keys down (he had made a copy for you last week). 

You’d tried to talk yourself out of this reliance, tried to convince yourself that staying longer would be too much for him, too invasive. But each time he brought you more things from your place, you couldn’t help but feel he was gently insisting you to stay, as if this was his silent way of reminding you that you were exactly where he wanted you to be.

That evening, as you both sat nestled together on the couch, a familiar warmth blossomed in your chest, one that you have been getting more and more of over the last week or so. The soft glow from the single lamp bathed the room in golden hues, casting soft shadows that danced in rhythm with the flicker of the TV. 

You were both wrapped in a cosy blanket, watching a movie that neither of you could focus on. The sound of distant traffic outside mixed with the gentle hum of the film. 

You glanced over at him, his face half-illuminated by the artificial lighting. You saw the way his gaze seemed to soften when it fell on you. The corner of his mouth lifted in the smallest smile as he reached over, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. It was such a simple gesture, but the tenderness in it made your heart flip in a way you hadn’t expected it to

It was then that he spoke, as if he could sense the unease beneath your soft exhales. As if he could sense the doubt that maybe you were taking up too much of his space, too much of his time. 

“You never wanted me to be alone,” he said, “I’m just doing the same for you.”

You felt the sincerity in his words settle over you. The way he looked at you, not a single doubt or flinch in his eyes, so gently—it was as if he was trying to make you understand that there was no place he’d rather be than right here, with you, and he hoped that you felt that way, too.

For the first time in weeks, you let yourself on him, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. You rested your head on his shoulder, letting his steady presence ease the ache in your chest, if only a little. And in that small, fragile moment, you found a sliver of peace.

Saturday, the next week.

Before you knew it, another week had blurred into nothingness, each day slipping away like sand through your fingers. The visits had become a regular rhythm, a parade of familiar faces that felt both comforting and unsettling. They arrived with smiles and stories, eager to reignite the memories you couldn’t quite grasp, the moments that felt just out of reach.

You thought this week would be different. Maybe the warmth of their voices would spark something—a flicker of recognition, a flash of the last four years of your life. They shared tales of laughter, love, and loss, hoping to draw you back into their world. 

Each narrative should’ve woven together like threads of connection, moments you should remember. Instead, they felt like echoes in an empty room.

“Remember when we...” they would begin, their eyes bright with anticipation. But all you could do was smile weakly, nodding along.

It wasn’t long before you felt the weight of their expectations pressing down on you. People kept implying that you would eventually remember, that the fog would lift.

Deep down, you felt the truth settle like a knot in your heart.

But you won’t. 

It’s not coming back. 

You knew it.

Even the doctors had delivered their verdict with grim professionalism just earlier today, their words lingering like a bitter aftertaste. "It would take a miracle," they had said with a mix of sympathy and resignation.

They had pitied you. 

You sat in the guest room for a while, the faint sounds of Bucky cooking dinner drifting in from the kitchen. He was taking care of you, doing his best to help.

How do you even begin to tell him it’s not coming back?

Sunday.

That evening, his apartment felt quieter than ever.

Bucky sat beside you on the couch, his hand resting gently on your knee as you both watched. The sun sunk below the horizon through the window. 

You take a deep breath, trying to push the words past the lump in your throat. "Bucky, I..." Your voice faltered.

Bucky’s fingers tightened around the handle of his mug, his knuckles turning white for a brief moment. You watched him closely, noting the way he tensed whenever you mentioned the past, as if he were bracing for a blow you couldn’t deliver.

"I don’t think it’s ever coming back."

The admission hangs in the air, the verdict final. You've been trying to push that thought away for days, clinging to the hope that things would somehow snap back into place, that your mind would unlock the memories of the last four years. 

Deep down, you knew that’s not going to happen. And now, saying it out loud makes it feel real. Permanent.

Tears stung your eyes. Your voice started cracking as you continued, "I feel like everyone has been waiting for me, and I’m just letting everyone down."

Bucky pulled you closer, his strong arms wrapping around you protectively. At first, the tears came slow, unwilling, as if your body was fighting against it. 

Then, after a shaky breath, the sobs ripped through you before you could stop them, your body folding in on itself.

Bucky’s arms were around you in an instant, holding you so tightly it almost hurt. You clung to him, but he didn’t flinch. His grip only tightened, his voice a low murmur in your ear, promising you were safe even as the world around you crumbled.

He rested his chin on top of your head, rocking you ever so slightly, trying to soothe the ache inside you. 

"You don’t owe anyone anything.” His voice was soft, steady.

You bury your face deeper into his chest, the fabric of his shirt damp with your tears. "But I feel like I’ve lost something important."

Bucky tightened his grip on you, his heart breaking. He held back his thoughts, not telling you that part of him was glad you didn’t remember. 

An ache that had been building for two weeks appeared again in his chest— relief mixed with shame. He hated himself for even thinking that way, but he couldn’t deny that the clean slate, this second chance, felt like a small mercy settling in the middle of all this dust. 

But he couldn’t tell you that. He only held you closer, whispering reassurances you deserved to hear.

-to be continued…

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@one-lengthiness36

@chimchoom @waitingformysandman

[ohnococo]

How To Fight | MMA Fighter!Toji x Physical Therapist!Reader

You love your job as a Physical Therapist, and would rather avoid any complications. Unfortunately MMA Fighter Toji Fushiguro has taken a liking to you. Despite your better judgement, you've taken a liking to him too.

✧ wc: 6.3k

✧ notes: A song fic taking place in the MMA AU. The song lyrics referenced are from How To Fight by Eartheater

✧ warnings: eventual angst, mma!au, no curse au, widowed Toji, divorced Toji, single dad Toji, fem bodied reader, pronouns used (she/her), pet names (sweetheart), flirting, unwanted advances, pussy referred to as 'she', physical therapist reader, recurring injury, injury recovery, vaginal sex, cumshot

i've tasted metals of my own blood, and learned to like it

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

It was against everything you stood for to be happy to see a client again, given your line of work, but Toji was different. Against your better judgement, he had somehow managed to work his way into your mind, burrowing past that steely wall of professionalism you kept up at all times with those in your care. You were determined to never let him know that, though.

“Well, Toji, I would prefer it if you didn’t keep getting yourself injured.”

He breezes right past that. “Just let me take you out, it’ll be a lot nicer than pushing me around and cracking my joints.”

It was a simplification bordering on misunderstanding your work, as if you were some chiropractor, but you know he’s only saying it to get you shoving him around with that tinge of annoyance he feeds right into your veins. You try not to give in, because you’re always trying not to give in to Toji, really. Then he’s resisting, just enough to make you really have to work to guide him in the stretch you want him to do, and he’s managed to get you right where he wants you yet again. You tug at his hips, guiding him into movements he should be familiar with by now.

“Just let me do my job.”

You had no intention of accepting his advances, whether they were in the form of invitations to dinner, sparkling bedroom eyes, or flirtatious comments that would have had you kicking anyone else right out of your office. Not Toji, though. With him, you just find yourself slowly allowing him to speak to you more and more familiarly.

The corner of his mouth lifts smugly just as he’s turning away, taking his gaze off of you directly to watch you in the mirror along the wall next to the mat you were standing on. He allows you to move him for a moment, only offering light resistance now, as if you could truly make him do anything he didn’t want to, then continues the twisting motion on his own. You watch his body carefully, avoiding eye contact because you already know those green eyes are fixed on your face, trying to coax you into giving him the smallest inch to turn into a mile.

“If you want your hands on me you don’t gotta use your job as an excuse.”

You ignore him outright, drowning out any potentially untoward thoughts with a strengthened focus on your work. As always, it works, and you note on your assessment forms that his hip mobility was normal. You knew it would be, that Toji knew how to throw his punches properly, but you’re always thorough with your checklist whether it was for the reasons Toji accused you of or not.

“Stand against the wall.”

He lets out a whistle, hands up as he does, “Gonna frisk me?”

“I’m gonna refer you to Yaga so you can get wrung out like a wet rag if you don’t do what I tell you.”

“Ooh, that doesn’t sound too bad, actually.”

“Toji.”

He chuckles as he settles into the position he already knows you want him in, doing lunges with the wall as a marker for how deep to press forward as you watch his ankle and knee movements.

“All good there.” You tap his back, nodding as you make your notes while he stands in wait.

“Okay, upper body.”

You know this is where he’ll need the work, as usual, and you’re quick to go through your checks with the right shoulder, moving onto his problem area. You already knew from his post-fight medical, but are happy to find, as you watch his movements as he lifts and rotates his arm, that it’s no more serious than the last time.

“Left shoulder…” you say aloud as you note it.

He looks annoyed, at himself rather than at you, “Always is.”

It makes you feel bad for him, in a way. He wasn’t really reckless in the ring. He knew his body too well and was too calculated with how he approached his fights. Unfortunately, it was simply a recurring injury, as shoulder issues often were. Something that was always going to pop back up sooner or later, but with the way Toji took so many fights even as he neared his forties it seemed to be “sooner” more and more often.

As you rotate his arm, feeling where he tenses and softening your movements, you share a little of your optimism with him - couched in realism, of course.

“Don’t look so sad. It’s similar to the last one, so it shouldn’t be too long before we have you out there in the ring living your best life.”

He laughs at that, sounding a little dryer than his usual flirty chuckle, “I’m not living my best life in there.”

You glance up at him while you continue your assessment, brows raising in muted interest before he continues.

“Put it this way, I like it because I like the money. I don’t love fighting.” He thinks on it a little more before adding, “I do love finishing fights, though.”

To you, there was little difference between those two things, but then you weren’t the one doing the fighting so you accept his feelings on the matter. “That’s fair. I think it’s kind of rare to really love your job.”

As you firmly grasp his bicep, lifting his arm outwards, he flexes for just a moment, grin returning to its usual wolfish state, “Bet you love your job though. Groping men all day.”

You release his arm, letting it fall for only a moment, but catching it as soon as he winces, “I’d love it a lot more if you let me do it without those kinds of comments.”

“Ehh,” he tilts his head, brows raising in disbelief at your continued assertions that you didn’t get any sort of satisfaction out of this (and you didn’t… until him). “I think you get something out of them.”

You ignore him again, returning to your desk to note your recommendations. “Four to six weeks of sessions, as usual.” You look up at him then, indirectly threatening him to behave, “Four will probably do though.”

It shouldn’t have been a threat, getting him back up to snuff as efficiently as possible, but it had become one by now with Toji. It was a joke, of course. Toji would feign being hurt by the thought of it, but was always happy to be able to accept his next fight as soon as possible.

But sometimes it didn’t feel like a joke. Sometimes you did want a little more time basking in his flirtations. Toji Fushiguro had unfortunately grown on you and it often left you feeling ashamed. His reputation precedes him. He’d even been married when he first came into your office, and here you were worrying about missing those butterflies in your stomach at his little reminders that he is completely fixated on you.

When you find yourself smiling a little too widely at him, or even thinking about him outside of your sessions, you have to remind yourself that there was nothing actually there. It was just what he was like with anyone that caught his eye, even if it was only ever you he was assigned to once you’d started working there.

The why of it all wasn’t a mystery in the beginning. He was a relentless flirt that, based on how cagey some of your coworkers were about hearing he would be in your care, had apparently enjoyed his time with many of them before you. You didn’t mess around about your job, though. You loved your work, and you loved the convenience of this position, so you’d decided that you absolutely would not be added to his list of conquests.

At first keeping that professional level of disinterest was easy. It had seemed so obvious that he’d move on and request another PT work with him after the first of his recurring injuries led to several sessions worth of you rejecting his advances. That wasn’t the case, though. Maybe that was exactly why he kept coming to you and only you. The challenge.

And it was a challenge, for the both of you. You were intent on giving him nothing, and he was intent at making that as hard as possible for you without even really trying. By the third time he’s booked in for several sessions with you for post-fight recovery, you find yourself actually letting your guard down around him, if only a little. You might have even missed him.

i've gone under the knife of love, dissected every vein and vessel

Another week, another therapy session, another attempt to keep your composure, even with how relentless Toji is.

“How long are you gonna keep making me ask before you let me take you to dinner?”

You shoot him a look. The answer should be never, followed by asserting quite bluntly that you don’t sleep with clients, since he wasn’t exactly being subtle. That’s what the answer used to be, at least. It’s not quite that direct now, though. “How long are you going to keep getting yourself injured and winding up here?”

He puts his hand to his heart, feigning pain, “Listen, if I didn’t have a bum shoulder I wouldn’t get to come and be your favourite client.”

“I wouldn’t say favourite.”

He lifts his head from your massage table, flashing you a winning smile and the closest to puppy dog eyes a man like Toji could muster. “Cutest?”

“I wouldn’t say that either.”

He closes his eyes, relaxing onto your table as you move and massage his shoulder firmly, “Whatever you say, sweetheart…”

Toji really did enjoy testing you. Especially with his favourite little pet name for you. Sweetheart. ’Even though you’re not too sweet to me’ he’d said with a little pout, entirely undercut by his hungry eyes. You used to shoot him looks that could have killed a man on the spot in some other universe. Now you don’t look at him at all when he says it, it feels too risky. It feels like something in your eyes will give you away.

You throw out another of the many threats Toji knows are baseless by now, said as many times and with as little conviction as most of your defences against him. “You’re lucky I don’t kick you out.”

He peeks at you through barely opened eyes, as you stretch his arm outward, “That's what I’m saying, you’ve got a soft spot for me.”

That’s your final signal to put your proverbial work hat on a little more snugly as you push down, and he taps his fingers against you, indicating his limit for this particular stretch. He understands you’re truly done with the conversation as you pat his side and step back.

“Alright, time for strengthening exercises.”

This was the part he always got bored with. You weren’t touching him now, not after the first time to demonstrate what you wanted from him. You weren’t naive enough to believe him when he kept feigning a need for more hands-on guidance as he goes through the recommended motions. A man doesn’t get to the point of looking like Toji without knowing how to lift weights - especially not the small ones you had him on just to slowly get his strength back in his shoulder.

Even then, lying on the floor, raising a little 5 pound weight with his healing arm while you stand above him watching closely, he’s still ready to run his mouth.

“I like this.”

“It feels alright?”

“The weight is fine, but I like having you standing over me like that.”

You give him nothing, pursing your lips as you put the tip of your shoes between his arm and the ground, “Keep your arm up, don’t bring it down too far.”

Ignoring his comments is the best you can do sometimes. Even if it gets harder with every session as you start to actually look forward to it deep down. Even if it becomes your only defence until you’re spending a good chunk of these sessions in a near haze, trying to force as much emotional distance as possible once his flirting starts up.

His comments were uncalled for, and so was the way it made you feel. You were far from the type to be desperate for the attention of a man like him, and the way your body responded to him only pissed you off the more it excited you. All you can do, or all you’re willing to do, is shut it down, and remember that you have a job to do.

—

After three more sessions of this you’ve convinced yourself that you’re more than ready to discharge him and hopefully enjoy a peaceful several months without the risk of seeing his face again. The fact that it never used to take convincing to enjoy having the walking talking complication out of your life is something you aren’t willing to address.

“You’re gonna miss me, aren’t you?”

“Don’t start, Toji.”

You know you can’t really tell him what to do, unfortunately.

“You don’t have to if you-“

“That’s right, I don’t have to miss you, and I won’t. Hopefully you don’t go getting yourself injured again so you can come and bother me more.”

Your tone has him sucking in air through his teeth and grimacing a little.

“I don’t exactly like getting injured.” He looks away as he speaks and it’s strange not having his eyes on you like you were some sort of prey to be carefully observed. “I couldn’t even help my son move into his dorm. Cage fighter dad that can’t even lift a fucking box. It pisses me off.”

He shrugs, eyes back on you, lit up anew, “But at least I get to see your pretty face, huh?”

As much as you don’t enjoy Toji’s comments, you like these little glimpses of something else even less. Because he does talk to you. About his day, about little things that pop in his head when he’s bored of flirting for seconds at a time. And it makes it much harder not to get a little too attached when he isn’t just being a simple womaniser.

It sometimes makes you feel like Toji thinks you’re some sort of therapist - when he’s not relentlessly trying to get you into his bed. And you know that’s what all of his flirting is, of course.

Because his reputation precedes him. Yes, he’ll take someone out. Yes, they’ll have a good time. Yes, they’ll fuck. Except in your case you aren’t a part time receptionist or ring girl that might be able to avoid awkward situations with him during the nothing that comes after all of that. And you aren’t willing to mess up the good thing you have with your job, even though some of your coworkers seemed to be.

What wasn't mentioned to you as part of his reputation, was the little breadcrumbs of who he was beneath the charm and muscle. It’s known he was a prodigy in his sport. It’s known he retired young to be a family man. And it’s known he came back, 5 years later, newly widowed.

He doesn’t talk about his first wife much, because why would he? Any brief mentions of her are with an undying warmth and love that undercuts his reputation as a heartbreaker. She’s special. The mother of his child, his first love. The former is stated, the latter is obvious. Nothing short of that would melt that hardened mask of indifference.

His second wife, he doesn’t speak about at all. You only know of her because he mentions a step-daughter, and because when he’d flirted with you from the very first time he’d entered your care your eyes had locked onto the ring on his finger with contempt for how little it apparently meant. By the time you see him next, nearly half a year and another injury later, he isn’t wearing the ring anymore.

Something in you feels flattered when you ask Toji about how his son was finding college in front of a coworker who had been here much longer than you, and they’re shocked as they say they didn’t know he had kids. Then, you’re left even more annoyed at him for giving you more complications to maintaining a necessary level of professional distance in your job.

Small talk shouldn’t feel so heavy.

Helping people recover shouldn’t make you have to deal with these thoughts.

i know how to fight, how to fuck, how to die, how to resurrect my pride

When you give in, it’s in the worst way. He doesn’t even take you to dinner, you don’t give him a chance to. It’s his fourth time in your care, this time for an ankle injury. Something basic, something much more simple to deal with than his recurring problem. Something that will get him out of your hair in no time.

He isn’t simple to deal with though, telling you about the dogs his son adopted, how he never really got how people got so attached to animals growing up, but now he gets it. He’s got you comfortable, not even thinking about how your guard is down, nor about how you even smile at him as he shows you a picture of his son, buried under two masses of fluff and begrudgingly smiling at the camera.

“God, Toji, you really just have a little twin there, don’t you?”

He laughs, looking at the picture of his son, before setting his phone aside on the mat. “Nah, there’s a lot of his mom in there.”

You smile, patting his shoulder in a rare touch outside of professional reasons, “That’s nice.”

He lies back on the mat, out of your reach, “You’re nice, for once.”

You get back to work, wrapping your hands around his ankle and bending his foot slowly. “I’m nice to people who aren’t constantly trying to get into my pants.”

“Hey, who said I was trying to do that? I’m just trying to take you out.” He sits up and leans onto his elbows, “but if that’s the kind of thing you’re interested in…”

“I’m interested in doing my job. I don’t mind talking to you when you relax with the inappropriate comments.”

“I’ve gotta prove myself to you before you’ll let me take you out, got it.”

“Is that what I said, Toji?”

Toji shrugs, fully relaxing back onto his elbows, and you pull on his foot gently. “That’s what I heard.”

You shoot him a look that you hope can put fear into the heart of even him. Instead, it only seems to inspire other emotions as he forms his scarred lips into a pout that misses the mark of garnering pity for his plight as a man rejected yet again, though you’re certain Toji knows exactly what he’s doing when he makes faces like that. Even with his lips puckered and sticking out slightly, even with his brows fashioned into a worried frown, his eyes telegraph exactly what he’s thinking about.

It crumbles your resolve, leaving you looking away first as you let out a sigh you hope comes across as frustration instead of weakness. You readjust your position squatting down next to him on the mat, trying to get a feel for the flexibility of his ankle before you start guiding him through putting some of his weight onto it as he straightens the other leg and lifts his hips off the mat before settling back down.

He’s quiet then, for much longer than you were used to, and you take the silence as an opportunity to work in peace as you rotate his foot again. When you look back up at him it has your heart beating a little faster than it should be. His teeth press lightly at his lower lip, his eyelids are only half open, and his brow quirks as if just your look had the same effect as having said something dirty.

“What is it now?”

You expect him to make some comment about your hands on his body, how they were lingering even now. He makes you wait for it though, tilting his head from one side to the other as he looks you up and down, smiling like he has a secret he’s debating keeping.

Another sigh falls from your lips, filled with actual frustration this time, and when he sits up it feels like he’s towering over you in a way you simply could not overcome, despite being able to easily stand and remove yourself from the pull of his gaze. The way he peers at you, even more intense than usual, has the back of your neck tingling and you’re forced to swallow hard even with the fear that something as simple as that would give you away.

His gaze softens, dipping back into something cooler, as if he’s backing away from an animal signalling that an approach would not be treated kindly. He takes a deep breath, and you don’t even notice you’re following suit until you both exhale at the same time.

It’s as if he’s settling whatever that moment was with just a look, deciding not to make the final jump to cross that imaginary line, and it puts you at ease enough that his words are like a punch to the gut.

“You’re pretending you don’t like it, but your neck is doing that thing.”

“What? What are you talking about?” You’re blowing it, far too defensive even though you truly aren’t actually sure what he means.

“Here.” He brings a hand to your neck, tracing a finger down the length of it, stopping just above your collarbones. “You always tense riiiiight there.”

He pulls his hand back, settling it on his thigh, and you let out the breath you’d been holding from the moment his hands were coming towards you. It makes you realise you’d been so focused on controlling everything you did or said that you’d been clenching yourself like a fist every time his words, or actions, left you melting inside. It also makes you realise that was the first time he’d put his hands on you in a way entirely unrelated to your work since he shook your hand the day you’d met.

You’re horrified at having been found out. You’re even more horrified as you realise you hadn’t really been hiding anything anyway. It’s left you with no clue how to respond, and you suddenly feel so aware of your every movement, unable to decipher how to behave when your little act had been so, so obvious to him from the start.

“Look, if you really want me to stop, I’ll st-“ he pauses, looking up as he thinks, scrunching his nose and tilting his head as if he’s weighing options. “Well, I’ll try to stop. I can’t make any promises…”

He’s pausing again, thinking again, looking you up and down as he licks his lips, before he crosses his legs, pulling his ankle out of your grasp and resting his elbows on his thighs as he leans forward. It forces you to react, as if on instinct, and lean back off of your feet to seat yourself with knees raised and acting as a final barrier between the two of you. He lets you keep that distance you’d gained, but brings a hand to hover over your knee so closely that you’re not sure if he’s touched you yet or if it’s just the heat radiating off of him setting your nerves on fire.

You can’t even bring your eyes away from his to check, and realise that you wouldn’t exactly want to move further away whether his touch was real or imagined. His gaze has you locked in place just as much as your own head as you find yourself thoroughly buried in your own pit of uncertainty as everything moves too fast for your mind to catch up.

“You don’t want me to stop though, do you sweetheart?”

His eyes, the heat of him, his low words digging through that pit in your stomach to reach for your core, it all has you feeling too lightheaded to be able to think at all. You can barely even feel yourself shaking your head, body much more honest than you had been willing to be all this time.

“Thought so.”

He leans in, brushing his nose back and forth against yours, smiling with the cute gesture, then that grin spreads wider as you tilt your head, your eyes fluttering closed as you wait for him to just kiss you. He doesn’t, waiting long enough that you’re forced to open your eyes and confront the sight of that hungry face yet again, and this time his gaze has you outright clenching.

“Big girls don’t get what they want by acting all shy, do they?”

It’s too much, you feel humiliated, you feel sick, you feel like you’ll pass out if he keeps working you up without even putting his hands on you properly.

“Kiss me. If you wanna.”

You don’t know who you are, needing to be told what to do like this. You question who you are again, as you follow orders in a way you never would have before you’d been called out like this and press your lips to his, letting out a breath that’s shaky enough to have you revealing just how desperate you were. When you start to wonder who you are for the third time, for kissing a client, at work no less, you drown out that thought by parting your lips against his.

He responds with softly parted lips of his own, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into him as he slots his mouth against yours. You wait for his tongue, flitting the tip of yours against his lower lip, and when it does not come you’re clinging to his shirt, bunching it at his shoulders. You’re forced to hold onto those broad shoulders properly when he lies back and his hands on your waist bring you with him to settle you on top of him - wordlessly reiterating that you would need to pull yourself together and set the pace here.

It’s your final push, as you straddle him with hands braced against his chest and slide your tongue into his mouth. Feeling the body you’d had your hands on far too many times, this time beneath you and with your ability to lie to yourself about the effect it has on you stripped away, has you salivating. You set all shame aside for this moment as you grind down against him, indulging in the feel of his stiffening cock beneath layers of thin fabric.

That tense feeling threatens to return, prickling at the back of your neck as he laughs into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and guiding your movements against him with strong hands on your hips. It’s gone again as he lifts his hips gently, using your weight against you as you only press harder onto him. You squeeze at his pecs, groaning into his mouth as you finally goad him into kissing you back with the same intensity you were now pouring into him, and it’s as delightfully invasive as you’d tried your hardest not to imagine it would be time and time again. It sends a tremble through your thighs, the wetness pooling in your panties all too obvious to you as all of your hidden desperation pulses through you straight from your pussy.

You forget yourself while kissing him like this, unaware of how long you’ve been on top of him, unaware of how you were moaning outright with just the friction between you, unaware of anything but feeling and tasting and touching as much of Toji as you could.

He’s aware though, aware of everything just as he always has been. How your thighs squeeze at his hips, the way your moans start sounding more like breathy little whines, how your tongue stops moving for seconds at a time against his. And it’s all he needs to keep this momentum going so quickly that everything but the two of you is an unintelligible blur.

“You gonna cum just like this?”

You don’t really want to answer it, and the look you give him as you try to keep him kissing you rather than talking has him chuckling, light and breathy against your skin.

“Sweetheart… if you’d just let me take you out from the beginning you wouldn’t be so pent up and begging for it…”

It takes more concentration than you have available to you right now to steady your voice. “I’m not begging.”

He takes in your face, biting at his lower lip as he slides two fingers into your mouth. He wiggles them around, sliding over your tongue, practically fucking your mouth with those thick fingers, knuckles catching at your tightened lips. “You aren’t…”

His fingers leave your mouth just as you were starting to actually enjoy the intrusion, and he slips his hands into your leggings, past your panties, stopping you from pressing down against his clothed cock like you had been as he circles your entrance slowly, “but she is.”

Then, his hand is gone, resecured on your hips, steadying your movements. “But you’re the boss here, not her. So if you don’t want it…”

“Come on, Toji.” You’re chastising him, even if you’re in no position to do so with your thighs tensing and your hips begging to keep moving against him.

He clicks his tongue against his teeth, “Like I said, you’re the boss. So I don’t move without orders.”

And he doesn’t. He doesn’t keep kissing you, even when you press your lips against his again, sighing out your frustration against his soft smile. He doesn’t release your hips to let you keep stoking your fire on his body. He doesn’t do anything but look up at you with a hungry glint in his eye, enjoying every moment it takes you to push your pride aside to ask him for exactly what you’ve wanted longer than you can admit to yourself.

“I want to cum.”

“Just you? Not a very good boss, huh…”

You groan, frustration with him reaching a fever pitch, “I want you to fuck me.”

He closes his eyes, smiling wide and letting your words wash over him. It’s music to his ears, and when he looks back up at you his pupils are blown and you know he’s done holding back. “All you had to do was ask, sweetheart.”

His arm is around your waist then, keeping you steady as rolls you over, settling himself between your thighs and you’re now looking up at him. You feel the tensing of his body, and come back to yourself enough to give him a concerned look.

He catches it, pressing a hand to your cheek and rubbing his thumb over your lips in an attempt to soothe those worries.

“Shh, don’t worry, I’ll be careful.” He shifts so he’s not putting weight onto his ankle, pulling at your shoes until they’re sliding off and hitting the ground. You lift your hips as you work your own leggings and underwear down, straightening your legs for him to remove them for you before he’s spreading you wide with hands on your inner thighs. He slides a hand towards your pussy, rubbing his thumb through your wetness and sucking air through his teeth at the way it slips around with ease.

“You really were gonna cum like that, weren’t you?”

You run your hands over your face, unwilling to endure any more teasing, “Just fuck me, Toji.”

He whistles, releasing your thighs and tugging the waistband of his shorts down just enough to release his cock, and you look up to his face, refusing to give him a reaction until he’s sliding inside you just as you’ve asked. He braces himself on one of his elbows, leaning over you and letting his cock hang heavily against your stomach. His hair tickles at your face as he kisses you again before requesting a final affirmation before following the orders you’d given.

“Want me to go slow?”

He really does wear your patience thin, enough that you answer without thinking, “No.”

“Okay…” he sounds doubtful, but continues on as he grips himself at the base and rubs the head of his cock through your wetness.

You squeeze at his sides, prompting him to look at you instead of at his own cock below. “Do not cum inside me.”

It’s stern enough to make Toji laugh, your voice sounding much more like your usual self for just a moment. “Don’t worry, I don’t want any more responsibilities.”

You don’t know if you trust Toji, but right now you don’t exactly trust yourself either. Especially not when having this man you’d spent ages closing yourself off to split you open on his cock in one merciless push has you wincing and taking it like it was exactly what you deserved for being so weak to him.

Toji pauses, balls deep, eyes clouded as he looks down at you. “I asked if you wanted me to go slow.”

It’s said with a hint of pity and a look that says ’you did this to yourself’, though he does stay still, kissing you again and removing your need to try and collect your thoughts enough to reassert that you knew your body, not him.

He doesn’t hold back for long though, and once you’re sighing into his mouth again, your tongue’s movements sloppy and unfocused, he starts moving his hips slowly. He starts with shallow thrusts, hips barely leaving yours. Then, as your body relaxes and your pussy accommodates him with a telltale squelch, he pulls out further, fucking you harder. Once your thighs are gripping at his hips he sits up, gathering more momentum in his thrusts at the slight change of angle.

He presses his hand to your abdomen, thumb making out a steady pace on your clit as his hips make angled thrusts that have his cock working at you with purpose. The moan it draws from you is punctuated with your eyes rolling, trying desperately to refocus on the face of the man above you. He bites at his lip, nodding and groaning at the feel of you tightening as he finds the movements that have your hands trying to grip at something below, but only meeting the dull squeak of your fingertips sliding against the mat. He leans back, reaching up to grab at the back of the collar of his shirt and tug it over his head, tossing it aside. He grasps both of your wrists firmly, pulling your hands up to rest against his stomach as he looks down at you with a challenge in his eyes.

“C’mon, touch me.” He smiles, wide and wicked, “Like you’ve always wanted to.”

You do just that, running your hands over his abs, grazing your thumb over his belly button, tracing your fingers along the prominent vein on his abdomen that leads down below to where the two of you are connected. Then, your hands travel back upwards, gripping at his pecs. His hand returns to press at you, thumb back to playing with your swollen clit, and having that touch back so suddenly has you squeezing Toji’s pecs hard, drawing a moan from him.

“There you go.” It adds even more enthusiasm to his thrusts, speed picking up as he leans over you, propping himself up on one hand as he digs deep to have you squeezing him again.

This time your touch is intentional as you squeeze at the flesh, a slight give present before you reach hardened muscle, and when you graze your nails over his nipples he’s shivering above you, bucking into you harder. The way he rubs at your clit is almost mechanical in its precise speed and pacing, a steady climb punctuated by those thrusts that stroke your insides in a way that makes your body tingle and your toes curl.

“That easy, huh?”

The audacity helps you lock eyes on him, if only for a moment, and while his smug smile builds a small fury at the back of your mind, your receive vindication in the flutter of his lashes and slight twitch of his upper lip as he tries to ignore the call of his tightening balls. It gives you what you need to dig deep, rocking your hips up into his thrusts, unearthing the orgasm just below the surface for the both of you.

You find yours first, putting your trust in Toji as you let go and bounce into him as it rips through you white hot and powerful enough to have you curling in on yourself, head buried against Toji’s chest and legs clamping him until his hips are pressed to yours. He pushes past even the strength of your legs and pulsing pussy, thrusting until you release him, lying back, and your head has barely hit the mat below before he’s pulling out.

“Fuck…” it’s hissed out as he sits up and jerks at his cock roughly, head falling back while his hips buck up and into his fist. His cum spatters down, first landing on your shirt until you tug it up, hopeless as the task was with your clothes already ruined, and take the rest of it onto your bare stomach.

He’s left panting, you’re left panting. He looks like he’s won at something, you feel like you’ve lost.