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yueebby · 21 days ago

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𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 (𝐢) – 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

contents. period piece, forbidden love, ooc, angst (eventual comfort), yandere emperor!gojo, lovesick!gojo, servant!reader, obsessive behavior, lowkey unreliable narrator, time skips, 7.2k words of gojo unable to process his feelings

notes. sorry for leaving everyone hanging after the prologue (make sure to read or reread since it's been a hot minute!) TT but here it finally is!!!...not proofread soz :x

series masterlist | chapter 1/2

You haunt his dreams, he’s sure. Gojo never believed in superstitions or the supernatural despite what all those old geezers preached. That was until your figure started to appear every time he closed his eyes.

The familiar scene of you gets cloudier every time it appears in his dreams, but he knows it is still you. It’s nearly comical how even his subconscious knew of your everlasting beauty. Everytime, the same sequence replays: a grand celebration he had hosted in the palace in honor of a prosperous year of his reign. The two of you were overlooking the guests, seated at the head of the room.

You’re wearing court attire that was altered to fit solely you (it hugged your body in such ways that made Gojo’s head spin), fabrics and dyes all originating from foreign lands. In your hair sits beautiful hair ornaments, swinging with every movement you make.

However, Gojo knows it is not the materialistic items that make you beautiful, no, he knows that it was simply you.

“Has anyone told you how unnerving your eyes are?” You quietly comment, eyes still trained on the party in front of you. Satoru cracks a slight smile, not ashamed in the slightest that he was caught ogling you.

“I thought you said you loved them?” He blinks at you, attempting to lean closer to show off his blue orbs. “You’re starting to hurt my feelings, beloved.”

You purse your lips, subtly leaning away before he can initiate improper conduct. He does not take your action well, snaking an arm around you to firmly cage you in his hold. Normally, you would welcome his advances but you’d rather not be publically humiliated in front of the entire Imperial Court and all of the influential clanheads of Japan.

“Please have mercy on me, Your Grace,” You whisper, eyes flitting across the room, making sure there were no eyes on you. Luckily, everyone was too absorbed with the luxurious goods Gojo had imported for the occasion. It was the anniversary of his coronation, after all.

He makes a noise of disapproval, “Can’t. Must let these people know that you’re mine.” Gojo closes the gap between you and sniffs your neck, softly moaning at your scent. He knows that if the geezers looked up from their silver spoons they would have a heart attack at his public display of affection. Not that he cares. His unorthodox ways may make them livid, but Gojo knows they won’t do anything. He was going to pave the way for the Golden Age of Japan— with you by his side.

“Your Grace!” You giggle at the ticklish sensation left by his warm breath. Any attempts of shying away from him are fruitless.

“Don’t run away,” His other hand firmly places itself on your clothed thigh, restricting your movements. All of this is hidden by the table that sits in front of the two of you.

You’re looking at him with those shiny eyes of yours, silently pleading with him. “Can’t this wait until tonight?”

He huffs, “I have suffered enough today without your presence. Ijichi kept begging me to finalize the preparations, but who am I to care? My flower was too busy having fun without me.”

“You and your dramatics. I was only away to tend the gardens in the Consort’s Pavilion. Which, might I remind you, is fading by the moment because someone refuses for me to stay there.” You tut, picking up your chopsticks to eat the delectable fish placed in front of you.

Gojo’s stare never falters as he watches you pick up a small piece, eyes shining as if he were watching a spectacle. “You know I can’t sleep without you.”

“And I, you.” You pop the piece inside of your mouth, chewing happily at the flavor that fills your tongue. “You know, I–” You began, but were cut off by the sudden seizing of your throat.

The chopsticks in your hands clatter loudly with the porcelain they are dropped on.

Gojo's breath hitched, his eyes wide and trembling with horror as he watched you struggle for air. "My love?” he choked out, his voice cracking under the weight of rising panic.

Your hands immediately travel to your neck to alleviate the sudden burning feeling that blossomed in it.

“[Name]!” He shouts, large hands quickly rising to cup your cheeks. In a desperate attempt, he squeezes your cheeks to get you to spit it out.

"Poi–poison," Your voice was hoarse, your face losing its color by the second. Satoru was frozen with fear. “Don’t eat it…Satoru.” With those parting words, you lose consciousness.

“[Name]?” Satoru’s hoarse voice can’t stop repeating your name like a prayer, hands lightly tapping your cheek as if it was going to bring you back to life.

Gojo wanted to laugh. Even when you were dying, you worried about him. Not that it mattered. You weren’t going to die. He refused.

Sometime during your struggle the chatter had stopped, and all eyes were on you. Satoru looks up from you to bark orders to the guards he had placed around the room. They leave to summon the Imperial Physician while Gojo is left clinging onto your limp body, praying to the Heavens above that they will grant him one more miracle.

—

Back in his chambers, Gojo’s head pounds, but he’s not sure whether it was the speed he shot up from his bed or the dream itself. He feels hot, sweat running from his bare chest that heaves to bring oxygen to his quickly pumping heart. He’s nearly certain his chest is going to cave any second with the way it constricts with pain. It was like he was a geezer, he humors silently.

“Your Grace?” A delicate hand cups his cheek.

He follows the direction of the hand, eyes slowly trailing up the feminine body it belonged to, barely covered as a result of the thin silk nightgown that highlighted her natural curves. “Are you alright? It was only a nightmare.” She cradles his face, moving slowly in his vulnerable state.

Satoru breathes heavily, eyes widening as they travel from her breasts to her face, beautifully illuminated by the sparse moonlight leaking from the window. Her dark hair falls past her shoulders, obscuring some of his access to her skin. His beautiful mistress. He’s sure that she is whispering sweet nothings into his ear, but the images of his memory keep replaying in his mind, occupying it from functioning properly. ”Himiko, how did you–”

“I heard you and I couldn’t bear it.” Her finger softly caressed his flushed cheek, trying her best to ignore the bewildered look on her lover’s face.

THE PRESENT —

The journey to the Inner Palace was a blur. After a long goodbye, a horse drawn carriage was sent to the front of Yaga’s estate the very next morning. Your mind was elsewhere the entire time, too busy mulling over your past and now damned future.

That is why when the carriage comes to a complete stop in front of the servants’ quarters, you are startled to meet two awfully familiar faces.

The two are silent, eyes carefully watching you exit the carriage. The purple set of eyes steps forward first to take your bags from you.

“Ah thank you Mister—“ Your voice trails off, eyes looking up from the dark robes in front of you only to be surprised with a familiar face. “L-Lord Geto?”

His lips quirk up slightly upon recognition. “Welcome back, [Name].” Your heart throbs at his indifference from the last interaction you had. It is quickly concealed by the excitement in your voice when your eyes spot a comforting pair of eyes.

“And Kento?” You light up.

Suguru raises an eyebrow at your familiarity with the Imperial Chancellor. He knows he should be relieved that you held no malice towards himself and Nanami, knowing the struggle you were subjected to when banished. However, there was a foreboding feeling gnawing deep within his soul. Guilt? Fear? It was hard for Geto to put a finger on it.

Nanami simply nods in acknowledgment, but stays silent under Geto’s watchful gaze.

“[Name],” The black haired man starts. Your eyes return to his face. “I wanted to be the first to greet you here, but I suppose Lord Nanami must have had the same idea.” He chuckles lightly, but the mirth never makes it to his eyes. You don’t notice Lord Nanami stiffening up.

“To say I am flattered would be an understatement, Lord Geto.” You return the same sugarcoated pleasantries.

Geto must have noticed your unease, reminding you, “Please, there is no need to keep your guard up around me. I don’t bite.” His voice has a teasing lilt. It does little to soothe you.

“Can you blame me, Lord Geto?” Your eyes meet his purple ones that narrow at your allusion.

“I suppose not.” He hums. “Though I must tell you that the incident was out of my power. I must carry that burden everyday, so I implore you to forgive me, [Name].” He throws out your given name once again like you were familiar.

When you don’t respond, he continues, “I know, it is easier said than done.”

“You don’t say.” You bite your tongue as soon as the words leave your mouth. He fails to acknowledge how your last interaction was your banishment, served just by the man in front of you.

A sigh escapes Geto’s lips. "As a gesture of my accountability, I place myself entirely at your disposal. Simply name a favor, and it shall be fulfilled." You can’t detect anything but sincerity in his words, leaving you speechless. “Of course, it had to be within my power, but I shall grant you one request in return for your forgiveness.”

“I—” You were too shocked to form a thought. “I don’t know what to say.”

Suguru’s eyes crinkle, "Our last encounter may not have been pleasant, but I still consider you a dear friend, after all.”

“I am flattered to say the least that you had decided to grant me such honor,” you gape.

Geto shakes his head softly, “You shouldn’t hold me to such high regard. I could hardly bear the weight of your disfavor.”

“You know I don’t harbor any ill feelings towards what happened,” you say softly. It wasn’t Suguru’s decision what happened that night.

“I wouldn’t be able to live with myself otherwise,” the black haired man in front of you pushes. You relent. Perhaps you should just bite your tongue and accept the opportunity presented. “Please. Just think about it.”

You watch in silence as Geto turns around to walk away. His sudden offer leaves your mind racing. A man of his caliber, second to none but the emperor himself, would be able to grant any of your desires. Perhaps you should ask to import Western literature, tales of great fantasy— or, you could think bigger and ask to move back with your clan. Though you highly doubt he will entertain the latter, considering your indentured servitude to the Inner Palace.

Your racing thoughts are diverted when you hear someone clear their throat to capture your attention. You perk up when you realize that Lord Nanami was still here, and you have completely ignored his presence.

“I am just as surprised to see your immediate return to the palace.” Nanami adjusts the glasses on his face, sympathetic eyes never leaving you. You flush under his gaze. It was quite embarrassing knowing the entire palace probably had caught wind of your incident with the emperor.

A nervous chuckle escaped your lips.

“It wasn’t my intention,” you mumble. “But I suppose if fate has decided, there is not much I can do.”

“You truly believe that it was fate that brought you here?” Nanami asks, the hold he had on your arm tightening enough to catch your attention but not enough to hurt.

“I-” You begin, words failing to conjure. “I’m not sure.” You had thought that your banishment was fate, but now that you had been brought back, it felt like you were simply at the mercy of something cruel.

Nanami watches your eyes staring wistfully at the blue sky above, his own flickering to each of your features. He wonders if you know that your expressions gave you away. It’s more endearing than anything, from the flutter of your eyelashes, the wrinkle of your nose, to the furrow of your eyebrows. Only a blind man would deny the fact that you were easy to fall in love with. However, it would make a foolish man to dare to pursue you.

He’ll appreciate you and your charm from afar where his head may stay attached to his body.

The comfortable silence shared between the two of you is disrupted by a flock of handmaidens passing by. Nanami tenses his jaw when the voices become audible.

“Is it really her?”

“It’s said that she tried to sneak into the Emperor’s chambers.”

“Is that Lord Nanami? My, we must warn him about that whore that tried to seduce the emperor!”

“Poor Lady Himiko.”

Anger swells in your chest. Though you’re not sure what tale had managed to escape the servants’ quarters, but you pray that they may never reach the emperor’s ears. It was simply profane to the beloved consort, an offense that you know Gojo would never forgive you for. You can deal with nasty gossip, having previous experience, but you doubt you can handle being beheaded for conspiring against the emperor and his consort.

“I’m afraid no matter how much time has passed, the palace rumors seem to never die.” Nanami sighs, exhaustion evident in his gravelly voice. “I advise you to brace yourself. Within these coming days, the fire will only get hotter.” He doesn’t bother elaborating on his words, choosing to lead you to your new chambers.

“Thank you for the advice Nanami,” you exhale. “However, I am sure I’ll be able to manage on my own. After all, I’ve been doing it for quite some time.” The moment the solemn words leave your mouth his eyes soften. You quickly look away, flustered.

“I know you can, [Name]. I suppose my anxieties are misplaced, forgive me.” You can feel his stare bore into the side of your face. He sighs, “it is a habit that comes natural to me.” He worries for you. The words go unsaid, but you are able to decipher his double meaning.

Your heart flutters at his kind implications, eyes too shy to meet him once more. Instead, you choose to fix your gaze on the doors to the servants’ quarters. The blonde man beside you takes the liberty to open the doors to your new room.

At the sight in front of you, your heart lurches.

Before you stands a familiar head of white hair, standing tall with his back turned towards you. His head was tilted slightly, as if scrutinizing something unseen, before he slowly shook it. Then, with an unsettling calm, he turned to face you, his gaze heavy with unspoken intent.

“I’ll take her from here,” Gojo’s icy voice breaks the silence that had overtaken you and Nanami.

“Of course,” Nanami bows deeply. You turn to bid the man goodbye, but he leaves hurriedly without sparing you so much as a glance. You can’t help but furrow your eyebrows in confusion, eyes longingly watching your old friend walk away.

The moment the shoji doors close behind him, Gojo clears his throat.

“[Name],” he tests the waters, his movements deliberate as he takes a slow, tentative step toward you, the air between you thick with an unspoken tension.

“Your Majesty,” You respond shakily, retreating a step as your breath catches.

“Please,” Gojo mutters breathlessly, his voice trembling with unspoken desperation, his eyes pleading with an intensity that only deepens the pit in your stomach. He takes two deliberate strides forward, the gap between you vanishing as though drawn by an invisible force.

“No,” You shake your head, pain flashing across your face. You won’t let him waltz right into your life after carelessly tossing you away, not without consequence. It is to no surprise that words seem to go unheard to the man in front of you. His eyes glistened in the dim lighting, fixed intently on your face, tracing each feature with a quiet focus, as if he were trying to burn them into his memory.

The world seemed to stay still just for the two of you. But it only lasted for just a moment.

“I’m so sorry,” Gojo mutters, a strong hand flying to the back of your neck tugging you towards him for a searing kiss. The instant his lips crash against yours, he lets out a soft whimper, as though the very act consumes him. Despite the passage of time, your body responds instinctively, like it was always meant to be this way.

It felt like the only thing that mattered was the fact that he was right in front of you, your fast beating hearts making contact with the way he had your chest pressed to his. All while pushing you against his body, Gojo allows his hand to trail down your back, revisiting every valley that he had once memorized.

“Mph,” your traitorous hands find their way into his head of white hair. He smiles into the kiss upon hearing his name leave your mouth.

“Yes?” He leaves a wet kiss at the base of your throat, bending down to continue his frenzy.

“This isn’t right,” the words came out of your mouth in a whisper, as if you almost didn’t believe them yourself.

“You’re wrong.” He inhales deeply, attaching his mouth onto your collarbone, ”I was made solely for this.” A small whine leaves his mouth when you hesitantly try to push him off. He uses his innate strength to fight your attempts.

“May I ask something of you?”

A kiss was placed on your jawline. Another on the base of your throat.

“Anything,” he breathes.

“Do you..” Your voice falters. “Do you love her?” Like you loved me?

The trail of kisses come to a complete stop. For a second you fear you may have overstepped. The emperor’s silence was palpable. The only sound that filled your ears was the harsh thuds of your own heart.

“[Name]...” he slowly stands up to tower over you with his height. The distant look in his eyes forms a pit in your stomach.

“Answer me,” you whisper, the pit deepening.

“I am just a man,” he reasons. Your heart drops at his answer.

“You could not even take an oath of monogamy,” you spit. “You are nothing but a weak man.”

His eyes shoot up from their trance frantically. You fear that the lust he had been tempted with had worn off, and now you were left with nothing but wrath.

“I understand that I was nothing but a spoil of war, but you could have done me one last favor by allowing me to leave on my own accord. You did not have to cast me away,” your vision starts to waver with the tears that puddle in your eyes. “If I knew your heart had yearned for another I would have left.”

The set of blue eyes that stare at you are no longer the lively shade that you had grown to love. They have been replaced by an uncertain stormy grey. It was almost laughable. A man, so big, who had the world in the palm of his hand looked so small.

A cruel part in you enjoyed seeing the turmoil in his eyes after the events that had transpired.

“Had I known the tribulations I put you through, perhaps I would have put a second thought before choosing you.” Gojo exhales, pinching in between his eyebrows. “But I must assure you that you weren’t the only one suffering.” And for a moment you think you see lightning strike in those stormy irises of his.

Your eyes widen at his confession.

He lets out a deep sigh, “The head maid will be here any minute. I bid you farewell. I pray that with our next interaction, your heart learns to soften.”

Ever for dramatics, Gojo leaves before you can get the last word.

—

True to his word, the head maid soon comes to assign your duties. You’re not surprised at your new set of responsibilities: tending to the emperor’s garden, sweeping the floors to his chambers, and overseeing his meal preparations.

It is nothing out of your skill set, and you’re more than willing to accept your predicament rather than being burned alive for offending the emperor on numerous accounts. You suppose even Gojo was kind enough to spare you from that cruel fate. It almost softens your heart enough to decide to forgive him of his transgressions. Almost.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud clang of a pot. When you turn your head towards the direction of the sound, you’re met with the head maid’s stern gaze. Her eyes narrowed on the wooden spoon you had been mixing in the broth.

Ah. She wanted you to perform the mandatory poison test before serving the food to the emperor.

However, just as you bring the spoon to your lips, it is violently swatted from your hand, clattering to the floor. Your eyes sadly linger on the spilled broth before snapping to the culprit, your gaze filled with disbelief.

"There were strict orders to ensure that the task did not fall to you," the head maid, Ogami, declared sharply. The elderly woman, with silver hair neatly tied in a tight bun and skin etched with the marks of years spent in service, raised a wrinkled finger in your direction.

You blink, taken aback by her sudden reprimand, the sharpness in her gaze leaving you momentarily frozen. It didn’t make sense—there had been no mention of any such orders, no one had informed you of any changes. You open your mouth to speak, but the words catch in your throat, swallowed by the weight of her unyielding stare.

How strange.

Days pass by like a blur, your routine falling into place. When dawn arrives, you’re up to prepare the emperor’s garments for the day. Your mid-mornings grow even busier as the palace comes alive with activity. Whether mending torn hems or ensuring the ceremonial robes are free of imperfection, you move like a ghost through the corridors with hopes of going unnoticed. The emperor’s unusual antics, however, make it nearly impossible to slip by unnoticed. He seems to have a knack for drawing your attention. His antics often begin at ungodly hours, long before the sun graces the horizon, as he attempts to coax you into sharing the first meal of the day with him. You decline each time, yet his persistence never wavers, a boyish grin always accompanying his invitations. By the time the sun reaches its zenith, Gojo finally departs to attend to his imperial duties. It’s only then, in the quiet lull of his absence, that you find the chance to make real progress with your work.

“To say I am relieved because of your presence would be an understatement, [Name].” Nanami and you overlook the palace’s main courtyard.

You smile, hands filled with silks that needed washing, “I could say the same.” The emperor’s outrageous requests were driving you mad. Your mind flashes to earlier that week when he had insisted on hand feeding you honey! You wonder how he survived without a personal servant before you took the position.

“His Majesty is as eccentric as ever, I assume.” Nanami’s eyes crinkle.

You laugh, “You know him too well!”

“I didn’t have much choice,” he shakes his head, smile ghosting his lips. “We’ve known eachother since our youth.”

You perk up at the news, your curiosity piqued. The confusion must have been written all over your face, prompting Nanami to offer a quick clarification.

“It was brief, our time at the academy. But we were both under the instruction of Yaga,” he elaborates. Huh. What a small world, you think as Nanami paints an unexpected connection.

“I am struggling to imagine you and him studying under the ever serious Yaga,” you giggle.

“I was in the year below him. It was Lord Geto and Shoko who were first hand witnesses to his nature.” Nanami tells you.

You nearly dropped all of the emperor’s clothes, “Shoko?” The revelation that your own friend was acquainted with the emperor stopped you dead in your tracks. Had she known him personally all along? If so, she made no effort to reveal it. Instead, she appeared almost disgusted by him, though you had chalked it up to her disdain for the new ruling dynasty rather than a personal vendetta against the man himself.

“I am aware you were well acquainted with her in your time in the Outer Palace, no?” “Yes, but–” you pause, before eyes snapping back to Nanami. “How did you know?”

Nanami blinks, momentarily caught off guard. His eyes widen a fraction, and he opens his mouth as if to explain, but then falters, his words stumbling.

Before he can say anything, a soft, familiar voice drifts from behind you.

“[Name]!” A servant of Lady Himiko calls urgently, her voice laced with a sense of urgency. You turn to face her.

“Yes?”

“The emperor requests your presence in the ceremonial hall. He says it is of great importance and that you must make haste!” The girl exclaims, grabbing your only free arm and tugging you toward the hall.

You glance back at Nanami, your eyes silently promising him that this conversation is far from over. He gives a small nod, acknowledging your unspoken words as he bids you farewell.

“Ah, may I ask what the emperor requires of me?” you ask, trying to maintain some control over the situation.

“You’ll see,” she replies, her tone clipped. Without sparing you a glance, she pulls you forward with determination, clearly focused on her task.

Like a lamb heading toward slaughter, you find yourself helplessly being dragged through the grand doors of the ceremonial hall, your thoughts swirling with questions you can’t yet answer.

The expansive room was eerily empty, a stark contrast to its usual grandeur. The sunlight poured through the tall windows, casting long beams of light that danced across the polished floors, illuminating the intricate tapestries and the grand pillars that lined the hall. But your gaze soon shifted, focusing on the emperor’s seat at the very end of the room.

You had expected the usual scene: Gojo slouched in his throne-like chair, whiny and complaining about the mountain of paperwork he despised. But what greeted you instead was something far more unexpected.

A figure stood poised at the head of the room, commanding the space with an elegance that was undeniable. Anyone familiar with the court could recognize her signature choice of kimono—the rich plum silk embroidered with intricate gold patterns, delicate yet striking. Her hair, black as midnight and flowing like a river of silk, cascaded down her back in perfect waves, a stark contrast to her porcelain-like complexion.

It was Lady Himiko. Her beauty was legendary, whispered about among women across the nation, often compared to a living work of art. The rumors of her grace and poise weren’t exaggerated. Standing there, surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting, who remained perfectly still and attentive at her side.

Her eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, your breath was stolen. The stillness of the room was palpable, and you couldn’t help but wonder why she was here, in the emperor’s seat, with not a whisper of Gojo in sight.

“Ah, just the one I was looking for!” her eyes light up when she sees her servant return with you in her hand. The gleam in her eyes fill you with unease.

“Lady Himiko, it is an honor,” you bow.

“There’s no need for that! Please, stand.” She waves her slender fingers at you, or so it seems, but at her silent command, her ladies-in-waiting begin to move toward you.

You take a step back, instinctively using the emperor’s garments, still damp from your earlier washing, as a shield against their sudden movements. The soft rustling of fabric is almost deafening in the silence that follows.

Lady Himiko’s eyes narrow at the motion, her sharp gaze flicking to the garments you hold between you and her. A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays at the corners of her lips, but it does nothing to ease the tension thickening in the air.

“I understand the unspoken animosity between us,” she says, her voice smooth, but there's an edge to it that sets your nerves on edge. “I pray you will accept my humble apology.” She clasps her hands together, but her eyes remain calculating, never leaving yours.

Her words hang in the air, heavy with implication. “I had not expected the emperor to kindle such… passion for me so suddenly. It was neither of our intentions that fateful night we reunited after the days of our youth.” She shakes her head softly, laughing nervously. "How rude of me, I doubt you of all would want to hear about Satoru and I."

Your breath hitches, caught between surprise and a tightening knot of discomfort in your chest. The weight of her words presses down on you, and you struggle to maintain composure.

“I do apologize for bringing you here on such deceptive terms, but I had to get your attention somehow,” she continues. “As one who has been a former concubine, I wanted your counsel on how I should navigate this delicate matter.” If you didn’t know any better, you would say she was mocking you. But you knew Himiko wasn’t one you wanted to offend, so you bite your tongue.

Instead, you nod, steeling yourself against the discomfort crawling up your spine. “What is it that you need from me?” you ask, your voice betraying none of the wariness you feel.

Himiko’s ladies-in-waiting close in around you swiftly, subtly guiding your every step toward the emperor’s stand. The grand hall feels even larger as you’re led deeper into its heart, each step reverberating through the space.

At the end of the room stands Himiko, watching you approach with a distant gaze. The soft glow from the nearby windows catches on the polished surface of the wooden desk before her, where inkstones, brushes, and stacks of paper lie in disarray.

You pause, your gaze falling upon the desk, and that’s when you notice the manuscript she’s pointing to. Her perfectly filed nails trace the edges of the paper with deliberate slowness. Though you cannot read the characters from this distance, the emblems that adorn the papers are unmistakable. They belong to some of the most powerful clans in the empire, each one a mark of authority and influence.

As your eyes skim across the paper Himiko’s hand rests on, the characters seem to leap off the page in a rush of realization. It’s a proposal– one written by the notorious Zenin clan. You can almost feel the air grow heavy as you piece it together. The words speak of demands for more autonomy—an increase in their power, more control over the lands they already possess. And you know, instinctively, that if this were to pass, everything Gojo has fought for, everything he’s struggled to protect, would crumble into dust. His fight against the rigid clan-based hierarchy would be for naught.

For a moment, your mind reels. This is no mere conversation or request for guidance. This is a game of power, one where you’re being used as a pawn. Her eyes lock with yours, and the air between you thickens with unspoken understanding. She must’ve taken you for a mere tool to execute her own plans.

But you’re no fool, and that realization comes like a slap to the face. You straighten your posture, eyes hardening as the weight of the situation settles in.

“These seals...” Your voice falters as you stare at the emblems, your hand hovering over the manuscript as though touching it might implicate you further. The weight of the realization crashes down on you like a cold wave. You look up at Himiko, bewildered, your heart pounding in your chest. Meddling with state affairs, let alone tampering with the emperor’s documents was a crime punishable by death.

“Does the emperor know about this?” you demand, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and indignation. “This—this could be considered treason!”

“Careful with your words,” she says softly, her tone calm. “It is not treason when it is for the betterment of the empire.”

Your mouth opens as if to respond, but no sound escapes.

“The emperor has always held you in high regard,” Himiko says with a wistful sigh, her eyes narrowing on your figure. “I’ve no doubt he would find it impossible to refuse any command spoken by you.”

Her cryptic words linger in the air, their implications sinking into you. You’re left reeling, unsure of whether her remark is meant as flattery or a thinly veiled mockery of your banishment.

She scoffs, her delicate façade cracking as her tone turns venomous. “The emperor may not know, but I see right through you. Seducing him to claim yourself as some spoil of war and twisting his mind to lead our nation to ruin—it’s sickening. Truly, a shame the assassination attempt failed.” Her words lash out like a whip, her civil mask shattering entirely.

You gasp, her implications cutting deep even as your heart hardens against the venom. Had she known–?

“Perhaps that is what the entire Court believes of me,” you manage, your voice trembling yet steady enough to carry your conviction. Months of whispered rumors and vicious gossip had thickened your skin, and you refused to crumble under her scrutiny. “But I will not allow you to sully the emperor’s reputation.”

As much as you detested Gojo, your disdain for the corrupt elders burned hotter. They had plotted your downfall, attempted to take your life, and now sought to undermine everything Gojo was fighting to build. You could not allow them to gain any more power in the Court than they already held.

Himiko’s lips curl into a cold, triumphant smile as she picks up an inkstone and brush from the emperor’s desk. “As his Honored Consort and future Empress I command you to hold this for me while I pave the way for a greater future.” Her words are laced with mockery as she extends the inkstone toward you.

You recoil instinctively, shaking your head. “No. I refuse—” Your rejection is firm, your voice sharper than you expected, as you pull away, clutching the emperor’s garments protectively against your chest.

The next few moments unravel in slow motion, as though fate itself had decided to humiliate you. Himiko’s gasp pierces the air as your sudden movement causes the inkstone to slip, spilling its dark, viscous contents over her elaborate kimono. The silk, undoubtedly crafted from the finest threads in Japan, drinks in the stain, the deep black spreading like a wound across the fabric.

“My lady!” Her servants rush to her side, their collective cries of alarm startle you. They push you aside as they fuss over her, their movements frantic as they attempt to salvage her now-ruined garment.

You stumble back, staring in disbelief at the disaster you’d unwittingly caused. “I—I am truly sorry—” you begin, but your words falter under the weight of the situation.

“What is going on here?”

The booming voice echoes through the hall like thunder, freezing everyone in place. You whip your head toward the source, your pulse quickening as your eyes land on the figure now standing in the doorway. The emperor himself, Gojo, commands the room with his presence, his expression a mixture of confusion and rising fury as he takes in the scene before him. By his side stands the owner of the voice, an elder, with an expression carved with barely restrained anger piercing through you.

Himiko lets out a sharp cry, her voice trembling with a convincing mix of distress and indignation. Gojo reacts instantly, rushing by her side, his features hardening with concern.

“I found her forging His Majesty’s signature,” Himiko exclaims, her voice wavering just enough to sound genuine. “When I tried to intervene, she lashed out and attacked me.” She trembles as she buries her head against the emperor’s chest.

It hits you—the full realization of her calculated scheme. This was her plan all along.

“I-I didn’t!” you stammer, your voice raw with desperation. “That wasn’t what happened at all– she was the one tampering with imperial documents. I tried to stop her!”

Gojo’s piercing blue eyes snap to yours, cutting off your explanation. His gaze, once warm and teasing, now burns with unrestrained fury. The bile rises in your throat as you see it. Anger, disdain, and worst of all, disbelief.

“Himiko,” he murmurs, his arms tightening protectively around her trembling form. Her soft sniffling only adds to the spectacle.

“To be caught tampering with imperial records is one thing,” Gojo finally says, his voice icy and cutting, “but to stoop so low as to accuse Lady Himiko? Was this an act out of jealousy? Spite? How pathetic. This is beneath even you, [Name].”

You feel your knees weaken, the tears you’ve fought to hold back beginning to pool in your eyes. “Please, you have to believe me,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of his words.

His expression darkens further, the light in his sky-blue eyes replaced by thunderclouds. “Why would I believe you?” he sneers, his tone laced with contempt.

A single tear escapes down your cheek, followed by another, and then another, until you can no longer stop them. The dam of your resolve breaks, shattered by his cruel dismissal.

“Why?” Your voice trembles, breaking as the tears come freely now. “Why don’t you believe me?”

Gojo’s lips curl into a bitter smile. “Don’t make me laugh,” he says coldly. “How could I ever believe in one as base as you?”

His words cut deeper than any blade, piercing through the walls you’d built to protect yourself. You’d convinced yourself you were immune to his indifference, but the searing pain in your chest proves otherwise.

“Leave,” he commands, his voice sharp and final. “Do not look back. Your very presence stirs nothing but disdain within me.”

You stagger back, his words striking harder than any physical blow. He might as well have drawn his sword and ended it here. The infamous tales you had heard about Gojo were once glorious images that were painted of your beloved. You had never thought you would be on the other end of his blade.

Without a word, you turn and run, your vision blurred with tears. The emperor’s garments slip from your hands, forgotten in your haste to escape the suffocating anguish. You don’t look back, even as the echoes of his disgust chase you out of the hall.

If there was one undeniable truth that Geto Suguru knew, it was that his best friend, Gojo Satoru could be an utter fool. Perhaps it was the inevitable result of a youth stolen too soon, replaced by the crushing weight of an empire resting on his shoulders. The brilliance that made Gojo a formidable emperor rendered him hopelessly inept when it came to navigating the labyrinth of his own emotions.

And as his closest confidant, bound by loyalty and friendship, Geto Suguru couldn’t help but feel the urge to shake some sense into him—to force him to confront what he stubbornly refused to see.

That is why, when your trembling form hurries across the courtyard, tears streaming down your face, Geto Suguru can’t help but halt you in your steps.

“I’m leaving.” you declare, your voice raw, your eyes red and swollen. The words, so resolute despite your trembling tone, catch him off guard.

“What?” he asks, his brows knitting together in confusion.

“My favor,” you say firmly, though your voice wavers. “I want to leave this place.”

For a moment, Geto says nothing, his sharp mind scrambling to process the abruptness of your request. Then he shakes his head, his expression softening. “You know I can’t do that.”

Your incredulous gaze snaps up to meet him. “So you lied to me?”

“No, not at all,” he says quickly, holding up his hands. “I meant—I can grant you time off. But as someone under the emperor’s direct supervision, I can’t allow you to leave permanently. What I can do is give you one lunar cycle away from court.”

You hesitate, weighing his offer before giving a sharp nod. “I’ll take it. Just let me leave,” you reply, sniffling.

Geto watches you for a moment longer, his chest tightening at the sight of your despair. “I’ll make the arrangements right away,” he says gently. “I’m sorry we seem to meet only under such terrible circumstances.”

“I’m sorry too,” you murmur, your tone hollow.

He hesitates, searching for the right words to offer some semblance of comfort. “Whatever he did, I’m sure—”

“I don’t care,” you cut him off, your voice colder now. “He made his disgust for me perfectly clear.” You march past him, your steps resolute despite the trembling in your shoulders. “Thank you for understanding, though I must beg you to keep this between us. Who knows what might happen to either of us if he finds out.”

Geto exhales slowly, his composure steady but his mind racing. Just what, exactly, had his best friend done this time? Gojo’s antics always seemed to leave Geto cleaning up the aftermath, but this—this was something else entirely.

Just as he promised, there is a carriage waiting for you outside of the servants’ quarters. With heavy bags in hand and an even heavier heart, you make your way toward it, each step weighted with reluctant resolve. The irony of the moment doesn’t escape you, a sense of déjà vu washing over you, as though life had played this scene out countless times before.

You turn sharply, your bleary eyes meeting the calm, hazel gaze of someone you hadn’t expected to see.

“Nanami?” you breathe, disbelief coloring your tone.

He inclines his head in a polite nod. “Forgive the intrusion, but I insist on accompanying you,” he says, his voice as composed as ever. “The roads beyond the palace can be dangerous, especially for someone traveling alone.”

For a moment, you simply stare, caught between gratitude and confusion. The warmth in your chest battles against the ache that lingers from your earlier ordeal. “And what of the emperor?” you ask, forcing a faint smile. “Would he not throw a fit in your absence?”

Nanami lets out a quiet, mirthless laugh, the sound more bitter than amused. “Perhaps,” he admits, adjusting the luggage in his hands with ease. “But he was never one to share, was he?”

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#it is finally done!!#ive prayed for days like these #kt.writes.·:*¨༺#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojou satoru x you #jjk x reader #yandere!gojo satoru #royal!au #jjk angst #gojo angst #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #emperor!gojo

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screampied · 8 months ago

Text

‘ THAT [ GIRL ] IS MINE ! ,

ᡴꪫ sum. university still majorly sucks, and spring break is practically over. time to say goodbye to your dad’s best friend, but before you do—you have a jarring confession to make, and it’s definitely not those three words.

wc. 6.4k

warnings. fem! reader, dad's best friend! toji, age gap (reader is over twenty), booty call, unprotected, size kink, praise, fıngering, cunnılingus (toji eating it from the back), degredation, dumbification, toji's very whipped for you, overstim, squırting.

an. this is the last chapter WOOOOO. thank you to everyone who read dbf! toji. may he return somedayy

girl, are you fucking stupid?

a simple question you couldn’t answer as if your life depended on it. if only you knew the deep consequences you’d face by having some careless fun on spring break. oh, but it’s just a one time thing, it’s just a little fling that won’t mean anything once april’s over. you continue to keep reminding yourself that every time you were with him. toji fushiguro—your father’s sleazy best friend, the guy who was about eight years older than your twenty-two year old self, the guy who was shameless, the guy who literally fingered you underneath the table during dinner, same said guy who makes you clean off his fingers with your tongue like the good obedient girl you were.

maybe you are fucking stupid,

spring break was coming to its inevitable end, meaning it’d be the end of your little fling with mr. fushiguro. oh and you did get caught, your father knows— but let’s not focus on that part, let’s focus on the part on how you were questioning yourself. was this love or just a game? surely it couldn’t be love, ew. toji himself said that he can’t stand relationships. you yourself was too busy with being a studious university student to even consider a significant other. so… what exactly was this peculiar feeling? a good description was a weird stir in your stomach, especially whenever he’s lay his eyes on you. alas, maybe instead of love, the feeling was entirely different.

you know what they say about karma though, it always catches up to you in the long run. oops..?

it was about three thirty in the morning. you were tossing and turning in your sleep. birds could just about be heard outside your window, chirping and chirping away. with an exaggerated sigh, you stare into the beige drywall that coats against your ceiling for a long, long time. no matter how much you tried to delay the inevitable—you had to get up, you just had to get it off your chest.

you should probably not keep this yourself..

but you pondered deeply at what his reaction might be— would he feel the same way, or would he hate you and turn a cold eye … ?

just thinking about it for such a long duration of a time made your stomach churn. at the same time though, whenever you thought about toji for too long . . that happened. you’d get aroused, having your pretty little panties in a twist.

you still question just how your father and him even met. a guy like toji isn’t really a guy you’d stumble across everyday. he mentioned to you on how he was gambling at boat races—you believed that, but still, you always did wanna know more about him.

toji was a very private man though, nothing wrong with that.

you couldn’t help but be a little curious about the man you’ve been screwing with for the past thirteen days now. thirteen days felt more like thirteen long consecutive weeks. like most, your break was supposed to only last five days to a week. it only ended up getting extended because of some kind of altercation at your campus. albeit, you didn’t ever want it to end,

but all good things do come to an end, right?

reaching for your phone, you decide to text him— you didn’t exactly expect a reply despite it being so late but still, you unlock your phone before scrolling for his contact..

< 69 Toji Fushiguro 🎥 >

Today 3:27 AM

hi toji.

u up?

• • •

Yea. Just woke up actually. Why?

lol no reason, i can’t sleep.

i miss u and i need to tell you smth

Oh?

Fuck I miss ya too, girl.

Come over then. you still got my location?

yeah be there in a bit xx

Read 3:29

locking your phone again, you take a quick thorough six minute shower. toji missed you just as much as you missed him— it’s been about a day or two or three that’s passed, of course you two wouldn’t be able to see each other every day.

it was mostly every other day. with spring break coming to a crashing depressing end, this would all be the end of your little spring season fling.

damn.

the drive to toji’s apartment was about maybe nine minutes from you. not exactly far, you’d have him come over to yours but you forgot that your father was literally next door to you. he’s already aware of what was taken place at his own home but again, let’s not focus on that part of the story.

at least not yet.. or ever,

you threw on a simple ample outfit, one of your oversized university hoodies and some leggings. something homely, something comfortable.

the weather was actually pretty decent, a bit humid but not exactly too cold either.

once you arrive at toji’s surprisingly well kept apartment, he met up with you at the door with that same smug grin. “….hey,” is all he says, eyes staring down your body for a while. you take the chance to ogle at him too. even with it being the middle of the night, he still looked handsome. with dark black hair of his a bit ruffled, toji had on nothing but obsidian black colored shorts and a white tee. his muscles, you always did feen over his mammoth-like jacked muscles. he was so toned— a lot taller than you, the epitome of what a real man was. “how was the drive? drive okay?”

“it was okay,” you mutter, stepping into his apartment. he’s holding a half empty can of cheap off brand booze, locking the door behind you as you take in the scenery. you feel a bit of butterflies rummage throughout your tummy as he slings an arm around you. it was like each time you’d meet with him again, he’d get more and more affectionate towards you. facing him, you had a cute abashed smile. “you look sleepy. did i wake you?”

“nah,” he firmly shakes his head, placing his empty can aside. toji takes off the thin coat you wore over your hoodie before hanging it up on the nearby rack for you. “i was ‘bout ‘ta get ready for work but then ya texted me.”

work.

toji never did tell you what he does for a living.

your eyebrows slightly raise. “wha— why? i can wait, just go to work.”

“dollface, really. it’s fine,” he chuckles, his voice a rough low. he leads you towards his bedroom, the bed wasn’t made up although it smelled a lot like him in here. a cheap musk of cologne fills through your nose as you sit down on his bed beside him. toji stretches, the veins in his forearms exposing ever so slightly and it’s so hot. “besides, didn’t feel like clockin’ in anyway. still gotta finish my taxes.”

“oh,” you mumble, completely lost in his gaze as he continues to speak. toji notices you staring and he smirks.

playfully, he pokes at your forehead, a teasing flick with two fingers to snap you out of whatever trance you were in. “. . soooooooo,” toji hums in a raspy pitched tone. his fingers that went against your skin was abnormally warm. “what did you wanna talk ‘ta me about?”

right, that..

suddenly, you felt your thighs squeeze together. toji’s staring at you, awaiting for a response and whilst you smother your glossed lips together, you rub the back of your neck. “oh, it can wait. it’s not that important,” damn, if looks could kill, you’d be screwed. dark green irises focus on your lips, then your eyes before back towards your pursed up lips. toji was quite familiar with your awkward body language, you lean up close to him before dragging a finger down his chest. so sensually, “like i said though, i missed you toji. i go back home tomorrow.”

“you’re lying, doll,” he whispers, letting your finger run down the middle part of his chest. a few bristles of chest hair pokes through his white tank before he raises a brow. “but fine,” and he grabs you to sit right on his lap. instinctively, your arms wrap around his broad neck. the closer you got, the more you got a good whiff of him. his cologne was so strong, it made you dizzy. “i missed ya more. and that’s right, y’er spring break’s ‘bout to end,” and you almost moan at feeling his clammy hands squeeze against your thighs. “excited to go back?”

“no,” you grumble, a grouse hiding underneath your tone. he slyly smiles, a thumb skimming against your skin. “i don’t wanna leave yet.”

“well girl then jus’ stay,” he rolls his eyes, forever a sassy, sassy man. “and, i find it kinda amusing. the whole point of your spring break was to visit your father ‘n you basically spent it all with me,” and his eyes run down your body, pulling you up close to kiss the outside of your neck. “ain’t complainin’ though.”

you pout, he had a point. “i can’t stay, my campus is like five hours away,” and you moan a bit from the softness of his lips meeting against your tender skin. “maybe.. you could visit me though.”

“eh. we’ll see.”

moments pass before you find yourself making out with toji. it lasts for a good while, ten precise minutes exactly. his hands free-for-all all over your body, the warmth of his hot breath goes against yours. the bitter taste of rich booze lingers on his breath, it’s chemically and it almost burns, yet it’s addictive. toji’s taste alone was addictive. you moan, feeling him ghost a big hand between your thighs to locate your arising heat. your leggings could only conceal your arousal for so long. his eyes were barely open, half-lidded as another hand travels up your hoodie. stubby fingers of his drag against your skin in such a way that you couldn’t help but grind against his lap.

toji grunts, deepening the passionate kiss—his tongue was so sweet, occasionally sucking against yours. perhaps he did miss you more than you missed him. with his head slightly cocked back to a certain angle, you start to hear and feel your own breaths shudder.

everything was going so fast yet slow, he parts his lips a bit further before you feel a hand of his reach all the way down between your legs. after a while of mashing teeth and sucking against tongues together, he pulls away. “y’er still as nasty as i remember. walkin’ around with no fuckin’ panties, huh?”

“nasty for you,” you whine, feeling his rough hands tug all over your body. swiftly, a hand snakes underneath your thighs. he runs a single thumb down your soaked slit and he guffaws. with a sly grin, he leans in to kiss more against your neck. so tender, he knew all the right spots to make you whimper out and squirm. his balmy hot breath resuming to collide against your skin made you bite your lip, an arm still throwing around his neck. “you don’t like me wearing panties anyway.”

“well yeah,” he sneers, his touch going further against your pre-soaked clit. you were already a bit drenched and he hums. “i steal them from ya regardless. my ‘lil souvenir. besides, what’s the point of wearin’ those things when y’er always this fuckin’ soaked.”

you moan, feeling him insert a single finger inside. his fingers were always so thick, stretching you out probably even better than his dick ever could. almost as if your entrance was elastic with how good it stretches. it’s his middle finger, then it sporadically turns into two— two thickset fingers prodding inside your slick heat.

you coat his digits so well with your syrupy arousal, he glances at you with a simper as you clamp around them both at once. “you get more nastier for me every time,” he murmurs, slowly swirling his fingers inside you. you’re clinging onto his neck tightly, feeling that strain in your lungs drag out as you pant. “drivin’ around this wet, girl i ‘oughta spank ya.”

“do it then.”

he glares at you before you gasp. toji lightly shoves you into the bed and you flop down, uttering out a soft ‘oof.’ landing on the sound mounds of your chest, he yanks down your leggings fully before meanly kissing the right cheek of your ass with his palm. “do it then,” he mocks you, pitching his naturally gruff tone to your own. “shut the fuck up,” and the sting feels good, his fingers were now out of you and again, you pout. clamping around nothing now, you were quite really just arched over his bare knee. “have ya been touchin’ y’erself lately? tell me.”

“no,” you lie, and that earns another spank— you moan out, the feeling of his palm was so hot at first touch. quite literally, the sting made you twinge before you grip onto his bulky thighs. “haven’t touched myself, swear.”

“oh bye, don’t bullshit me, sweetheart,” toji mutters, and you’re just dangling over his knee.

occasionally, the coolish air against his room would waft right against your skin. “known ya for a good what, two weeks? i can tell y’er lying,” and the way his voice pitches— it’s so rough, gravelly.

the baritone in his voice never fails to make you wet, so deep. you didn’t really know a good way to describe toji’s voice, all you knew was that it was raspy as hell. heavily and utterly raspy to the point where even him whispering against your ear was enough to have you drenched. “don’t like ya touchin’ her when ‘m not around,” he clicks his tongue, caressing your bare stinging ass. you’re panting, aching for him to just hurry up, to do something. toji cackles, noticing from how impatient you were simply from your body language. “aw. am i talkin’ too much for the pretty girl? you bein’ over my knee not enough to satisfy ya?”

you sigh, wriggling your ass a bit and he spanks it again just to watch the recoil bounce against your skin.

“t— tojiiii. just fuck me already.” you grumble, you didn’t really care how whiny you sounded.

it was late at night and you were horny. that was for sure pretty much all you knew. besides, despite it being about two to three days since you last saw him, yeah.. maybe that wasn’t even long of an absence— but you did kind of miss toji.

more importantly, you missed his little friend between his legs.

“i’ll fuck ya when i wanna,” he gruffs. you whine once he sprawls your legs open a bit more. toji stares at your ass, spreading them to see your sloppy cunt opening for him. a sweet little meet and greet. so wet, you’re still laid over his lap before he leans down. “shh. listen to her,” is all he says. whilst he’s inching his face closer, two exact seconds later you feel toji’s saliva trickle into your pulsating entrance. oh. he spat on your pussy, he was quite direct with it too. he then gathers a long stringy wad of gossamer-like spit before spitting it right between your swollen folds. you bite your lip hard, forgetting how much of a nasty man he was. “yeah she’s missed the fuck outta me.”

toji was purely fluent in pussy talk. it was common for him. he’d always refuse to your cunt as ‘she’ as if she had a name or something.

no shame, shameless— toji brings a thumb towards your clit, rubbing against it just so you could hear the squelches you made yourself.

“you used a toy, baby?” he hums, sliding his tongue against his lips, against the scar that slants against his skin oh-so-sexily..

“y-yeah,” you whimper, the coldness of his saliva making you shudder within his hold. your breathing became more rapid as you tighten the hold on his legs. “magic wand. i jus’ wanted to try it.”

“tch… magic fuckin’ wand,” he snarls, actually sounding quite offended.

continuing to drag and skim his fat thumb down your slit, you mewl out. you’re effortlessly soaking his single slender digit with such sheeny amounts of your sweet. “bet ya didn’t even know what the fuck you were doin.’ how long it take ‘ta make you finish?”

you’re panting now, trying to recall your lewd moments with your sweet beloved hitachi, it was expensive too.

you bought it from some shady link online, one of your friends recommended it to you so you shrugged it off, saying why not. besides, you hardly ever have time to play with yourself anyway. even more now that you had toji.

“like … maybe thirty minutes.” you exhale deeply, the fast paced strokes of his fingers making your eyes almost roll back. so so good, all he was really doing was skimming his fingers against your sopping wet entrance— barely even doing anything, yet you were still a mess.

toji chuckles, making you get off his lap before laying you face first on the mattress. he grabs your waist, pulling your ass upward to stick out before he gets up close for a nice direct view. “aw. thirty minutes? thirty minutes when it can only take me five with my tongue?”

“f-fuckkk.” you start to babble, his warm breath fanning all against your exposed cunt.

it cools against your skin, sending each nerve that resides inside of your entrance to spiral uncontrollably. toji had you arched all over, arched over like some slut.

to be fair, if the shoe fits you might as well wear it.

“dunno if ya deserve to be eaten out,” he speaks in a low undertone. your dilated pupils roll way back at his simple touch.

he teasingly brings his tongue towards your pussy, it’s retting, sloppily so. toji drags two fingers and you eagerly coat his digits with such salaciously, lewd arousal. “mhm. look at that, fuckin’ drenched. my favorite waterpark,” and he spits against your folds once more before snickering darkly. “jus’ thinkin’ you used those useless hands on this pretty pussy makes me ill.”

oh, you’re about to lose it..

he was stalling, more talking and less eating.

instead, it should have been vice versa.

you’re a mover, writhing in his lap, still hunched over with a cute arch before he spanks your ass.

“little girl, cut that shit out,” he grunts and abruptly, you feel the coldness of his flat tongue finally lap against your pussy.

immensely, your mouth forms into an ‘o’. if it was anything toji fushiguro knew how to do well, it was that he knew how to eat.

he ate you out like it was the end of the fucking world, as if your pussy was the only food remaining left in stock.

you gnaw on your bottom lip further, gasping once he wastes no time to dig in.

. . slow slow sluuuurps,

he makes sure you hear how wet you were on his mouth. just downright filthy, his tongue lays itself flat before he nibbles all against your throbbing clit.

“o-oh my god, toji, hngh,” you’d babble out in pathetic sweet sobs. with his tongue scrapping against your entrance, creating suction with his mouth had you stupid.

as your maw dramatically drops, he’s eating you from the back. there’s a concise dull moment where he pauses. with big two rough hands, he spreads your ass open fully. “f-fuuuck.” you moan, feeling him blow his warm breath all against your puffed folds.

from behind, you hear his sexy low titter before he resumes—yet this time, he lolls his pink tongue all the way out, so fucking long..

and as he does, he licks from the very bottom of your cunt until he’s reaching near your puckering hole— he’s never acknowledged that spot before, your ass.

your eyes widen, a clamoring gasp exits from your lips before he spits against it, lathering his tongue everywhere. he likes it wet, more importantly though, he likes it nasty.

“arch that back more for me, bend girl, bend,” he coos in a muffled tone— purely speaking with his mouth full. his stubble tickles against your pussy and your back voluntarily moves itself forward. a curve, he found it so appealing,

so . . amusing.

“there mphm we go baby, good girl. keep that head on the bed. ‘m fuckin’ starved.”

you’re clinging tight onto one of toji’s satin covered pillows, feeling his tongue roam everywhere. it knew no bounds. your heart starts to race at a more rapid speed the second he sneakily dips his tongue back into your needy clit.

he passionately sucks against the clitoral hood before using a hand to smack your ass every single time you squirm.

after about probably the nth time of his lewd escapades with his tongue, he starts to prod his calloused fingertips near your entrance once more. his fingers featuring his tongue, oh you were really no match.

“imgonnacumimgonnacumimgonna—”

“mhm, bet ya are,” he rasps, a deep chuckle dragging out of his throat.

the way your body responds to him was so cute. “keep that ass up ‘n y’er face down,” he orders, earning another vicious smack on the rear from him. you’re moaning, feeling yourself start to spasm. toji occasionally breaks his lips away to kiss near your ankle, your thighs, anywhere but your cunt and he knows how much you hated that.

the teasing— he’d purposely stop just to move his lips elsewhere, watching you fidget in such obscene anticipation. “don’t fuckin’ cum yet.”

“but—”

“but shit. you heard me,” he groans, bringing his mouth back towards between your legs. you whine, feeling him roll out his tongue before slurping up such a good amount of your syrupy taste.

with your toes curling, stomach seizing, you couldn’t stop shaking.

so damn good, his buttony nose rubs against your folds and it tickles for a split second. the stimulation has your mind going for a loop, you even slip your hands underneath your sweatshirt just to touch on your sensitive perky nipples. “wait for me. hold it, yeah.”

but of course, you didn’t listen,

your body had other plans.

it was inevitable, your orgasm ignored toji anyway, you’re ponderously throbbing.

the pulse between your thighs only grow more briskly before you realize you’re drooling all over his bedsheets.

oh, the feeling felt so delicious, your jaw remains open and you feel so much pressure. so much, his tongue still grazes against your slit before you shriek out, gasping for whatever air was left. it was quick, very very quick.

it’s speed..

it’s tempo was like lightning speed—a bolt that flashes within a blink of an eye, concentric circles steadily building up within your lower abdomen pooling up with heat before it just snaps,

you came.

“o-oh fuck, f-fuuuck, toji,”

suddenly, the room grows quiet. you knew toji didn’t like for you to finish early—especially finishing after he tells you to wait, but oh well.

you couldn’t help it, and the orgasm he just gave you was so good, mouth watering. with weak legs that could barely stand up it’s on own, you inhale a single sharp breath before you’re flipped over quickly.

“the fuck did i just tell you?”

“s-sorry,” you giggle, sprawled all on his bed. your eyes immediately meet the gaze of his shorts, they were half on. he’s got a bulge going on, a hard one at that. his black boxers briefly stick out and it’s so attractive—you catch a glimpse of his happy trail from his tank top that was pulled up just a bit, exposing a bit of his skin. sharp v-line, slim snatched waist.

slut..

god, he was so jacked. the more you stare at his sculptured body, the more you fantasized about how he could just toss you around the—

“oh, is somethin’ funny to you?” he utters lowly, and his tone— he sounds ticked off, he’s barely even raising his tone, projecting it but you still hear the slight rasp to it. you just got even more soaked. “was gonna let ya ride me but i don’t wanna stare at a brat right now.”

“h-huh?” you reply, and then your face was met against the plush mattress again.

you lewdly mewl out a whimper once he spanks your ass, a hand grabbing onto your hip.

“don’t act like ya can’t here me, girl. bring that ass up a bit more,” and you gasp, feeling him drag your hips a bit closer towards his slim waist. “yeah.” he breathes, having a gentle yet firm grip on you.

rough coarse fingertips glide up against your own hips as you feel him take a second to align himself. fuck, you missed this.

you missed him.

in the midst of toji already pulling down his shorts and boxers— he then grabs ahold of his thick cock, giving it a few solid strokes.

he was so hard, leaky tip glistening with pre that he wished he made you lick the top off.

but it was far too late, he just wanted to be inside, just as much as you wanted him inside. the crown of his cock was so fat, even with toji being slow to ease himself inside, he’s still practically splitting you open.

“shit, i missed this,” he grunts in a hoarse tone whilst he’s going inside you.

“f-fuck,” you bawl up the creamy white sheets into your fists.

you almost forgot just how big he was, despite it only being a good three days without feeling him stretch you out.

toji groans, feeling the subtle tightness of your walls adjust to him like always— it usually lasts a second or two. he’s furthering himself in, already about to bottom out.

he’s already niiice and snug. a perfect fit,

every. single. time.

toji rarely does doggy with you because he prefers staring at your face— solely to make fun of your little facial expressions. but whenever you were bent over for him on all fours, it was simply an experience you never wanted to end. “oh fuck m-me,” you croak, feeling him yank harshly against the hood of your hoodie. you bump back against him and that’s when he unhurriedly starts to create an unkempt, sloppy pace.

it was rhythmic, he starts off slow before strenuously pounding into you.

churning up your sweet savory insides like butter, you clamp around him so good that it makes his abs tense up. “mhm,” he tugs tighter against the fabric that was thrown over you from the torso up. dark eyes of his flicker toward your ass, each time he moves, your ass moves.

in full compatibility, the sheer skin slaps was brutal. your head was spinning like a merri-go-‘round, strained inhales pulling your heaving lungs every few milliseconds. “. . girl,” toji groans, and you moan once he gives your ass a spank again for probably the umpteenth time today. his voice, every syllable he drags out in that deep hoarsely voice of his had you so soaked. “fuck back against me, c’mon. ‘s a two way street, baby.”

“y-you’re so fuckin’ big though,” you whine, pawing into the soft cushions of his comforter.

“awww,” he utters in a faux, sympathetic tone.

he leans against you, so close to where he’s basically in prone bone— no more doggy.

he’s so deep that the tip of his dick prods all against your secluded g-spot. toji’s hefty weight hovers against your bare ass and you moan melodically. “i’m big, yeah?” and a colossal, veiny hand of his wraps around your throat. gentle, barely any pressure but a good amount to make you whine again. “but y’er doin’ so good, was jus’ about to praise you but you don’t want praises, huh,” and you’re falling in love time and time again with his sensual yet reckless rhythm. the way the bed rocks and shakes in harmony, you’re at a lost of words.

speechless, breathless, every -less word by this point.

he was hitting you so deep, every angle.

so thorough,

his hips were sharp— your moans grow louder the moment he gets right up against you, a hand gripping into your hair rigidly. mercilessly, a hand lightly digs into your scalp as he’s holding your head up. toji’s damn near balls deep now, making sure you feel every consecutive thrust. “some nerve, textin’ me at three am just to fuck this sloppy cunt,” and his hot breath fans against your neck. you whine once you feel his tongue slide against your sensitive collarbone. so deep—you were sure he’s just jackhammering his cock into you by this point. each movement was pivotal, he was precise with the way his hips snapped against you. whiplash got you good, you’re currently just a babbling mess listening to his crude words. “but i bet ‘s more than that, yeah? you wanted to tell me somethin’ so just tell me.”

“n-not yet,” a sweet moan dies out your throat.

toji rolls his eyes— this girl, he’s thinking in his head. you were testing his patience, a stubborn little thing. one of the many things he’s liked about you. “fuck, h-harder toji. harder.”

“sloooow? i can do slow,” he replies in a deriding tone, and his deep thrusts turn into satirical unserious, slow pumps. you whine, he lets go of your hair and you just plop down on your chest. he knew what you wanted, he knew how you liked to be fucked, and yet he was just being a tease.

toji fucking fushiguro for you.

he’s always been rough with you, treating you like nothing more than a mere rag doll at times. there’s been sweet affectionate moments too, rarely, but it has its moments.

toji’s infatuation with you only grows, the more he spends time with you the more he even starts to question himself.

you’ve got him whipped.. precisely with your pussy, yes, but whipped in another way completely. he didn’t know how to describe it, mainly because it was nothing to describe,

indescribable.

he couldn’t put anything to words—especially whenever he was deep in your guts, mashing your cunt around with his cock like homemade dough. kneading it with his tip,

stretch, mold, ply, repeat..

he’s doing all that with his dick. he sucks his teeth, a tsk escapes from his mouth before he spanks your ass— bringing you right back to reality.

“fuckin’ gonna milk the shit out of me,” he groans, his hips all sloppy and vigorous.

toji’s so close to you that by now, he brings a foot up to press against the back of your neck. you gasp, really feeling just how deep he was inside your cunt.

the wool of his sock presses against your neck as your face was smushed against the satiny sheets. “mhm, that’s it girl, take it. take that shit. milk my fuckin’ cock, fuuuck.”

his groans get louder, you’re so wet it’s ludicrously sloshing against him and you’re all doe-eyed and dumb.

emphasis on dumb, not a single thought was embedded into your brain.

as his hips keenly buck against you, you’re breathing shallowly, trying to keep a good momentum against him before you whine.

you were close again, yet this time— something else was approaching,

something more . . provocative.

your legs shake and shake, your jaw aches from how much your teeth is shattering amongst each other before you feel him grab onto your wrist.

he pins it behind your back whilst he’s still fucking you raw.

broad, clammy hands of his roam down your voluptuous body, taking in to snag a feel of your curves, your pretty physique, everything..

beads of sweat droplets start to race down the sides of toji’s naturally dark brows— he huffs and puffs, the girth of his dick only stretching out inside of you even further.

you’re a babbling mess, the arch in your back was so cute that it makes him throb. you feel the throb that lingers from his dick, it pulsates at such a meteoric pace that it has you pulsing in response.

“where do ya want it,” he grumbles with a soft vexing pout on his lips. toji was trying his best to maintain composure—but he was flustered, the more he leers down your back, down your pretty structured spine, the more he’s starting to adapt this unexplainable feeling. “best fuckin’ tell m—”

“inside,” you purr out, your voice all strained and a raucous from the immense amounts of moans that left your throat. “i-inside, wanna feel you again, ‘n again, ‘again..”

toji snickers, swiping a tongue against his lips before he slows himself down for you to adjust.

you’re preparing to finish with him— he coos right up against your ear, sticking two fingers in your mouth. “finish with me, princess. ‘m givin’ you this one chance,” and he deepens his voice all the way down, balls so deep inside that you feel a faint gape stretch you whole.

you’re compressing him down tight with your gummy walls before you feel the slimy friction of pure sweat sticking against your own skin. “you gonna be a good girl ‘n cum on my cock? or a bad girl who’s not even listenin’ to a damn thing ‘m saying.. ?”

“c-cum, toji, mphm,” you choke out a sweet desperate wail, feeling one of his bulky arms wrap around your torso. “wanna cum.”

as you spoke, your words were merely muffled from his thick digits shoving inside of your sloppy, needy mouth. his warmth, once it skids against your skin, it never ever leaves.

you think you’re about to cum but instead, you gush out.

violently, electricity courses through your veins. vibration after vibration pulses throughout your body and you’re hysterical,

it’s so abrupt, so intense..

you’re squirting, coating his dick with your honeydew arousal from the base down.

he chuckles at your body’s initial response, how you’re finding it impossible to stay still. you’re clenching around his shaft still, mouth all open, eyes wide as big as restaurant saucers.

swooning, you’re swooning from his length and that’s when you whimper once he groans right in your ear.

the raspiness, it’s got you drenched— drenched like a faucet, the sensation was beyond pleasurable.

toji ends up following seconds after, it hits him harder. like a truck, it comes at full speed before you’re met with such absurd milky ropes of his seed. it shoots out quick, but it’s thick. you get quiet, hearing the sloshing spurts trickle its way inside of you. “f-fuck,” he stutters, a shaky breath following as he slides his fingers out of your mouth. a trailing glimmering cobweb of your own spit drags from his two fingers as he’s dumping knots and knots of cum into your sweet, starving cunt. “saved so much f’r you, feel it deep ‘n y’er womb, doll?”

“y-yes.” you swallow, a multitude of moans emit from you before he slowly pulls out.

oh, the sight of it all. one of toji’s favorite parts was to simply gawk at the mess he created, taking in the mess he made you.

a messy girl.

the messiest, your chest feels tight and you’re heaving.

he licks his lips, staring at your ass with hazy eyes. his own cum oozes out of your hole and he just wants to lick it, plug it back into you and give you another thick load.

that’ll come soon enough— as much as he had stamina equivalent to a near stallion, he needed a little break. his chest felt like it was about to explode.

“fuck,” he collapses against his side of the bed, reaching towards his thigh to scratch it.

as if on instinct, you crawl towards him, an arm wraps around you and he pulls you closer. your head presses against his chest. you hear his rapid heart beat and he murmurs out a husky, “good girl,” and he leans in to kiss the crown of your head. “gimme a minute though. ‘m not as young as i used to be, y’know.”

you giggle, a simper stretching across your face as the time passes.

instantaneously, it gets quiet for a moment before you suddenly remember why you even came here . . for one last time.

“toji,” you utter, attempting to catch your breath.

you were still heaving with lungs full of build up oxygen, panting a bit before he glances down at you with that unreadable, naturally stern expression.

a hand of yours strums down his pecs seductively, playing with the curly chest hair that remains stuck against his skin. “i’ll um . . tell you what i wanted to say earlier.”

“let me go first.”

with your eyebrows slightly furrowing, you glance up at him and he stares up at the ceiling before back at you. “about a week back, at y’er dad’s place, i told ya i loved you,” and his breath hitches for a moment— even saying something as sentimental as that made him cringe.

you figure he was being serious though because his sudden eye contact never left yours. “you never gave me an answer back.”

“. . . oh,” you sheepishly say, remembering the exact encounter he was referring to. you then lean up to toji, gingerly planting your lips against the right side of his mouth where his tender scar resides. “you didn’t hear me? i said i love you too, toji.”

his chest feels all warm and mushy, you love him?

“you do?” he replies, being taken aback. this entire situation was messy as is, but again, they do say the heart knows what it wants.

you nod, repeating yourself before pulling him into a quick three second kiss. “i love you, toji.”

. . .

. . . is what he thought you was gonna say.

far from it actually, you’re sat in the passenger seat of toji’s car before you lightly tap him on the shoulder. he’s parked, slouched back against his seat before he snaps out of his erotic phantasm. he was dropping you off back home,

oh right.

home.

“toji? did you even hear a word i just said?”

“huh? yeah, you said you loved me too.”

“no … i didn’t. what?” you scrunch up your face, the most perplexed expression of all.

that was nothing you said, with a sheepish expression, you mutter out the words he’d never thought he’d hear you say. “toji, i said i’m pregnant.”

. .

happy spring fucking break.

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mamaflaire · 6 months ago

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Look at the goof

I coloured him :3 these are all the Ozzie's from my fanfics/AUs! I love him in every form, he's one of the most layered characters ever written!! I adore him!!! You can find my AUs on ao3!! <3

#mama flaire reblogs #I actually started reading A Study in Roja yesterday!#its so good oh my GOD #I am currently on chapter 14 #its such a good story and I love how you portray Thrax and Ozzy #I love how you keep to their original characters but with your own spin #I cannot wait to finish it #I'll probably finish it today #but I absolutely adore the way you write those two #with ozzy being a very competitive young adult who finds himself wanting to prove every adult who ever doubted him wrong #and Thrax is a professor by circumstance but seems to actually care about his students (especially Ozzy)#It also tackles a few very serious topics and I adore that #like the “Not All Viruses” thing #I love how it portrays people who are different than the rest trying to fight for the same rights as the rest and to not be misunderstood #to me I kind of took it like ex-criminals fighting to prove that they aren't a threat anymore #it reminded me of how my dad actually struggled to get jobs and such while I was growing up #and since I was his kid at school teachers would treat me differently #so I really related to and adored that aspect #because I related to how growing up I was treated differently because I was both hispanic and the kid of an ex-criminal #so thank you so much #osmosis jones #throzzy #digital art #ozzy and thrax #ozzy and drix #ao3 fanfic #writers on tumblr #osmosis jones thrax #ozzy jones #ozzy x thrax

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navybrat817 · 5 months ago

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Give Me One More

Pairing: Soft!Dark Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You don't need Bucky. He's going to prove you wrong. Over and over and over...

Word Count: Over 3.7k

Warnings: DUBCON to be safe, explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (f. receiving), overstimulation, masturbation, established and slightly toxic relationship, pet names, possessive behavior, family drama, betrayal, threats (not against reader), loose backstory, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a bit mean, okay?).

A/N: I spoke about prisoner!Bucky ages back and I couldn't let this go. Especially not when I'm looking at that beautiful edit by the more beautiful @nixakimbo! ❤️Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own (but thanks to @whisperlullaby for discussing this man with me!). Divider by the talented @saradika. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You pushed the curtain aside to look out the bedroom window, the clouds dark and thick in the sky. Your home used to be your safe haven, a place of comfort, and all you wanted to do now was escape from your prison of sorts. Not the kind of place your boyfriend, Bucky, spent time in. The bars that kept you in couldn't be seen by the naked eye.

“Can't stay in there all day,” Bucky said from the hall, his deep voice reminding you that you weren't alone.

You’d never be alone again.

“Yes, I can,” you called back. You had been in your bedroom for well over an hour since you snapped at him and left him alone in the living room. If staying in there meant avoiding him, you were fine with that.

You half expected him to stomp down the hall, but he only said, “You’re being a fucking brat.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks as anger flowed through you. “Leave me alone, asshole!” You shouted, feeling every bit like the brat he said you were.

You weren’t sure what set you off today. It could've been because you were still angry that Bucky used you. How long did it take for an empire to fall? In your case, six months.

Half a year ago, Bucky Barnes bumped into you at your favorite coffee shop. Literally. He was large, built like a powerhouse, but his grip that kept you from falling was so gentle. One look in his cerulean eyes and you were a goner. He easily charmed his way into your life and bed. He treated you like a princess, better than any boyfriend before, and you naively believed it was fate that brought you together.

You should’ve known it wasn't the beginning of a happy new chapter in your story. It was a clock winding down to your doom. More specifically, your father’s doom. Because Bucky wanted to destroy the man who helped land him in jail.

The White Wolf, a nickname for Bucky you recently learned about, wasn't a good man. Far from it and far from being a reformed criminal. He took it personally that your dad got him put behind bars for a short time. So he tore his life apart. Took his job away. Urged his friends to abandon or turn on him. Got him put in jail. Bucky even rubbed it in his face that he fucked his daughter. All in six months.

It would almost be impressive if you weren't the one living with the aftermath.

Had your dad known exactly who you were seeing, he may have tried to stop you.

“Asshole,” you muttered.

What Bucky didn't plan on was falling for you or so he said. You were, apparently, his chance at happiness. Because of that, he wouldn't let you go. And he expected you to just forgive him and move forward.

How could you forgive him?

He promised he’d hunt you down if you tried to leave him. You naturally tried and didn't get very far. The sick part was how much you enjoyed him chasing after you and bringing you back. After he fucked you where he found you.

As if he read your mind, he called out, “I know you're frustrated. Bet if you sit on my cock you'll feel better.”

Your cheeks flamed, your panties damp. Damn him for still arousing you with so little words. “Go fuck yourself.”

That actually wasn't a bad idea. He was right. You were frustrated and itching to get out of your own skin. Maybe if you got yourself off, you’d feel a little better. Not happy, but better.

“I don't need him,” you said.

That was what you told yourself as you stripped down and got on the bed. But as you ran your hands along your breasts, gasping as you moved one hand lower, it didn't feel right. The normal fire within you didn't burn. Didn't even a flicker. A raw ache instead outweighed the pleasure you tried to give yourself.

“Damn it,” you muttered.

You heard Bucky’s dark chuckle from the doorway and made the mistake of looking his way. You weren't sure how long he'd been standing there, but his cock was free from the confines of his pants and he lost his shirt at some point, too. He didn't attempt to hide the array of scars and tattoos that littered his torso. Ones you traced with your fingers and tongue more times than you could count. Back when you weren't a pawn in his game.

But if you really were a pawn, why did he have your name tattooed over his chest?

“Looks like you need a hand,” he said, brushing back his long hair as his eyes moved along your body from head to toe.

You ignored your racing heart as you said through your teeth, “Go away.”

He tore your life apart like a tornado, leaving destruction where there was once calm and beauty. Instead of letting you pick up the pieces, he continued to wreck everything around you. He broke you, too, but you were also the only thing he put back together.

The smirk he gave you was one you used to adore. “What’s wrong, princess? Still mad at me?”

You scoffed. Was he serious? “Yes, I’m fucking mad at you.”

“Still mad about the past? Or is it because you can't get out of your own head long enough to make yourself come?” He taunted, slowly stroking his thick cock. “Did you ever actually get yourself off before me? Or did you not know what an orgasm was until I gave you one?”

You watched with a lustful gaze as his hand moved up and down, your eyes not leaving the sight as you desperately tried to get some sort of relief. “I had plenty before you showed up,” you hissed, sliding a finger into your tight hole.

“You know, all you have to do is admit that I'm right: That I've ruined you and all you can think about is how good it feels when I'm fucking you. Admit it and I’ll get you off.”

Pushing another finger inside yourself, you refused to admit that he was telling the truth. Nothing felt as good as he did. And that was the problem, wasn't it? You shouldn't want or need him. Not after everything he had done to your family.

He groaned as he watched your fingers sink in. “You're so pathetic laying there. My pretty little slut wants to prove the impossible. Just wants to prove that she doesn't need me when we both know that's a fucking lie,” he grunted as his cock twitched, making you clench in want despite your anger at his words. “Better hurry up and say it. Otherwise I'm going to come all over you and you're going to be left begging to come and not get off at all.”

You whined as a tear fell from your eye. “You're an asshole. The lowest of the low.”

He chuckled as he brushed his thumb along the tip, watching as your eyes followed the motion. “Now you're just trying to hurt my feelings and that's mean, princess. That isn't you. I'm the mean one in this relationship.”

Your fingers froze as you narrowed your eyes. “Relationship? Don't you mean your prisoner?”

Your breath caught in your throat when he smirked, something darker than before. “You think you're a prisoner? You have no fucking idea. I’ve been to prison. This is a fucking walk in the park,” he said, pouring more salt in the open wound when he added, “And your dad knows all about prison now, doesn't he?”

You choked on your next breath. “How dare-”

“Relationship, prisoner, my girl. You're still fucking mine,” he snarled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “And I'm still right. So just say it. Tell me you need my cock and I'll get you off. Fuck that pretty pussy so good you cry for me. Won't even make you apologize for repeatedly calling me an asshole.”

“I wish I never met you,” you blurted out.

Guilt churned in your stomach at the hurt in his eyes. Why did you still care after what he did? Why did he matter to you? “You don't mean that,” he whispered before he blinked, ice in his gaze. “You’re just being a fucking brat.”

You let out a small scream of frustration when you removed your fingers and reached for your side drawer where you kept your vibrator. If Bucky was going to keep being an asshole who wouldn't get you off, your toy would. But he didn't let you get very far. Not when he was on you in a flash, throwing the toy far behind him and pinning your wrists above your head.

His breathing was almost as heavy as yours.

“Oh no, princess. You're so confident you can come without me then that must mean you don't need any help at all coming,” he smirked, gripping your wrists tighter as you squirmed beneath him. You didn't dare look down when his cock brushed against your skin. “It's cute that you think you're stronger than I am. That sexual frustration must really be fucking with your head. I can fix that.”

“You're fucking sick. I don't… I… I don't need you,” you said, not having to see your eyes to know your pupils were blown with lust. Your tongue darted out to lick bottom lip before your gaze settled on his, challenging. “You need me more than I need you. What was it you said? That I was the best pussy you ever had? And you’d be happy to keep your cock in me all day every day?”

“Just like my cock is the best you ever had.”

You opened your legs a bit more when he clenched his jaw. “And you don't want to finish on me. You want to be in me. If it were any other guy, he'd-”

He growled when he grabbed your chin. It was a reminder of just how strong he was and how he could hurt you if he wanted to. “There are no other guys. Do you fucking hear me?”

It was your turn to smirk. Bucky was a lot of things, but he never strayed. Not once. He would forever be faithful. “You sure about that? Maybe I can't relax right now, but if you won't fuck me I’m sure I can find someone who-”

He flipped you on your stomach and gripped the back of your neck before you could finish that statement. “If you think I wouldn’t kill any guy who touches you, you’re out of your fucking mind. Keep pushing me, sweetheart. See what happens.”

You bit back a moan at the gravel in his voice as you turned your head to the side, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. It was dangerous to poke the bear, but you were past the point of caring. Especially when fury looked beautiful on him. “What's wrong, Bucky? Don't like the taste of your own medicine?”

He leaned down, his breath harsh against your ear. “I prefer the taste of your pussy. Always so good for me. You wanna hear that I need you? Fine. I fucking need you,” he rasped, biting at your earlobe. “Happy?”

“And that you’re sorry?”

“For hurting you? Yes,” he whispered, nosing along your neck. “Never meant to hurt you.”

You shuddered, almost delirious from needing to come. And the fact that he admitted that he needed you. That he was sorry for hurting you. But you weren't ready to play nice. “I'll be happier when you finally decide to fuck me, but you're just a fucking asshole, aren't you?”

He let out a slow breath. “Yeah, I'm a fucking asshole.” He nipped your earlobe roughly again in retaliation before settling between your legs and teasingly brushing the tip of his cock along your folds. “And I'll fuck you when you say you need me, too.”

You tried to push back to take him in, but he kept a firm hold on your hips. You tried to wiggle out of it, but it only brought you frustration as you groaned. “If you're really going to make me say it, don't hold your breath. You can't threaten me, Bucky. You're all talk. And guess what?” You said, smiling sweetly. “I can find another guy to fuck me better than you can.”

You couldn’t see the thunderous look in his eyes, but you heard the low and menacing chuckle in his throat. It sent chills down your spine. Maybe you pushed too far this time, but you didn’t care. He deserved it and worse.

“You're trying to piss me off and I want you to remember that you pushed me to this,” he said more to himself than you before sheathing you in one hard thrust, your mouth falling open in a cry at his sudden intrusion. “Hope you enjoy the bed since you won't even be able to walk out of this room.”

You stared at the wall, your eyes unseeing as Bucky tore you apart. Seconds passed. Minutes. Hours. The sound of his grunts from behind you filled your ears, along with the brutal slap of skin-on-skin. Your body burned, the overwhelming stretch from his cock making you lose sense of yourself. You told yourself he’d finish fucking you soon, but that felt like ages ago.

You also told yourself there was no way you’d have another orgasm, but he proved you wrong. Climax after climax, your release practically flooded around him. At this rate, you really wouldn't be able to get out of bed.

“Bucky,” you gasped, trying to grip the sheets for purchase as he pulled out and slammed back into you. “Please…”

You were boneless, exhausted, and he just kept going. “Oh, no, princess. You wanted to get off.”

Tears of ecstasy streamed down your cheeks, whimpering when you felt yourself on the cusp of another orgasm. How was that possible? How many had he given you? “Bucky, I…” you moaned as you clenched around his cock again.

He cooed, a taunting sound when you choked on a sob. “So good, but I want another.”

“I don't… ” Your eyes rolled back, your head spinning. “I can't.”

You’d seriously lost count at that point how many times you’d come. And your whimper didn't stop Bucky from mockingly cooing again. “Aww, you don't think you can? My poor little fuck doll can still talk which means she hasn't had enough yet. This pussy is so fucking wet for me, so swollen,” he taunted, reaching underneath you and flicking your overstimulated clit as a choked moan escaped you, your walls tightening around him once again. “See? Your greedy little cunt can't get enough of me.”

Why did your body need him so badly? “I can't…” you whined as he licked one of your tears away, seemingly unbothered by the sheen of sweat on your face.

“You think anyone else can do this? Work your body up like this over and over again?” He grunted against your cheek. Your eyes squeezed shut at his harsh panting, his pace not slowing. “All you had to do was say that you need me. But no. You just had to be a fucking brat.”

You practically wailed as you teetered on the edge of another orgasm. “I-I need you. Just you, Bucky,” you said. At least, you thought you said it. You had a tough time stringing any thoughts together with his cock splitting you open.

But his thrusts don’t slow. They were just as relentless as before. “Oh, no. You had your chance to say it,” he snarled, leaning up to pull your hips back against his. “And my pussy is telling me all I need to know. So just lay there and give me another.”

The pleasure bordered on the edge of pain as a sob escaped. There was no possible way you could come again. As much as you thought you couldn’t take it, your body tensed. You still craved him and wanted to give him one more. So you did. You shattered. It was almost too easy that he managed to pull another orgasm from your pliable body.

Or maybe you were just easy for him.

Bucky smacked your ass hard enough to make you cry out, his hand kneading the flesh with a delighted groan. “Fuck, each one is better than the last, princess. You want me to fill you up huh? You wanna feel me dripping from you?” He chuckled darkly, finally slowing down as you let out another sob. He shushed you before he put a hand on the back of your neck and kept you down. “I’m gonna fill you up and you’re gonna take it. Then, I'm gonna lick you clean until I'm satisfied.”

“No…”

He gave you one more smack for good measure when you made a sound of protest. “C'mon, princess. Beg for me to fill you up. If you can talk.”

You didn’t know if you could. You were practically a drooling mess as he drove in as deep as he can go. “Pl… Pl… Bu…” you tried to moan, another tear falling as he shushed you again.

“Got you cockdrunk, didn't I? Need to be pumped full? Then let me give you every. Fucking. Drop.”

A tired moan came out when he filled you up, giving a few slow thrusts as he finished. Your body trembled beneath him, a whiplash of chills and heat. You barely registered him pulling out before he flipped you onto your back. Glassy and unfocused eyes. Makeup smeared all your face. Tears stains on your cheeks. You must’ve looked quite the sight.

He relished in ruining you.

And the beautiful bastard didn’t even look like he broke a sweat.

“Should I call you a dog? You’re drooling, princess,” he smirked. You didn’t have it in you to argue as his eyes drifted down to your pussy. It was still twitching and leaking with your mixed release. He licked his lips as he slid down your body more to fully take in the sight. “And you look good enough to eat, so I think that's just what I'll do.”

“What…” you gasped. He couldn't. Not after all that.

You whimpered as you tried to push him away with a tired hand, but he grabbed your wrists with a tsk. “No, no, no, sweetheart. You keep your hands to yourself. I told you I wasn't done with you and it's rude to keep a man from his meal.”

You were still floating from the multiple orgasms he gave you when he took his first lick. Your shivers picked up again and he groaned at your taste before diving in. Any strength you had to try to push him away depleted immediately, even with how sensitive your walls felt. You couldn't stop him.

You’d never be able to stop him.

After a minute, your eyes widened when you felt him build you up again. “No,” you moaned, but the sight of him between your legs, eating you like he was starving, was too much.

He just hummed against you. "Give. Me. One. More.”

Your back arched when his lips latched onto your clit, forcing the orgasm from your worn out body. You weren’t sure if you made a sound, but you trembled as your release went on for what seemed like forever. Bucky’s tongue lapped it all up, humming before he sat back and looked at your wrecked form again. He made a show of licking the shine from his lips and looked just as proud as ruining you with his tongue the way he did with his cock.

“If you ever try to threaten me with another man or refuse to admit you want me again, I'll make sure to tie you to this bed for a week and refuse to let you come even if you beg for it. And I shouldn’t have to mention what else I can do. Do you understand?”

You trembled, knowing exactly what Bucky was capable of. While he never laid a hand on you to inflict pain, you knew the damage he did to others. Like the bodies buried and cold in the ground because of him. Not to mention the connections he still had at the prison. All he had to do was say the word and that would be the true end of your dad.

With unfocused and teary eyes, you gave him a nod. “Yes, Sir,” you whispered.

“Now tell me you love me and that you’re sorry,” he ordered.

A tear slid from the corner of your eye. “…Love you. I’m sorry.”

His smile was tender and for a second you forgot about everything else. “That’s my good girl,” he praised, your heart betraying you like your body did when he kissed your lips. “And I love you, too.”

You whined as he left your line of sight, but he came back almost right away to sit beside you, the bed dipping under his weight. “Drink it, princess,” he urged, his voice gentler than before he helped you take a sip of water. He even smiled again when he wiped another tear of yours away. “We can go back to the way it was before, you know. When you were blissfully unaware and we just quickly fell in love.”

The pain in your heart came and went as your breathing evened. You wished you could go back to innocent movie nights and meals. To waking up beside him with a smile on your face. To making love so passionate that you believed you were made for each other. There was no changing anything or going back. You could only move forward with him by your side.

Bucky sighed when you didn't say anything. “I know I’m a piece of shit, but I won't stop loving you. And I think you learned your lesson.”

You blinked a little as you took another sip, on the verge of passing out.

“You’re mine and I’m never letting you go,” he whispered, brushing the gentlest of kisses against the top of your head. “Don’t you ever fucking forget that.”

So... I know he isn't all good, but I had fun writing this and I hope you lovelies enjoyed it! Would love to hear your thoughts and maybe I'll expand on this? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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soaps-mohawk · 11 months ago

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 7 : Sweet Strawberry

Summary: You're not a soldier, you're just an omega. You shouldn't have to remind them of that, yet you find yourself needing to. Price makes it up to you in the best way possible.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, angst, panic, fluff, suggestive content, terrible flirting

A/N: Not entirely happy with it but it's done and I can move on from this one. I struggled so much with this chapter omg. Also, I just wanted to make it clear that I am not from the UK, I've never been to the UK, I'm simply going off of prior knowledge and what Google can tell me. So, if there's any inaccuracies, I am so sorry.

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You’re expecting the knock when it comes. You’d been standing in front of your door for almost five minutes, and you get it open almost before he’s finished, hand still raised. He gives no sign that betrays his surprise, if he feels any at all, instead he simply looks you over before turning on his heel and marching towards the door.

You close your door behind you, slipping down the hallway after him. It’s raining again, though you had prepared for that, flipping the hood of your jacket up as you hurry after Ghost. He threatens to disappear in the darkness of morning, slipping between the street lamps like a specter. It’s not often you get to see the true danger in them, the threats that they pose, the things that make them good at their job. You can imagine how many on his opposing side have been caught unawares by the way he seems to flow with the darkness around him.

You are significantly less graceful and quiet, feet slapping the wet pavement as you speed walk to keep up with the giant alpha. You can almost imagine the look on his face as you plod along behind him. If your lives depended on your silence at this moment, well, it wouldn’t entirely have been your fault. If he didn’t walk so fucking fast...

He’s at least courteous enough to hold the door open for you, though perhaps that was simply something that was deeply ingrained in him. Manners that become unconscious practice, even when you despise the person you’re with. He leads you down the hall towards the practice room again, unlocking it and flipping on the lights. He empties his pockets and removes his shoes and sweatshirt, before moving to one of the punching bags.

You can already predict what your lesson today will entail. Your knuckles have almost completely healed since your little fit a week ago. You quickly strip off your jacket and toe off your wet shoes, moving to join him without having to be told.

“Do you know how to wrap your hands?” He asks, holding out two rolls of hand wraps.

“No.” You shake your head. It’s not entirely true. They had shown you once while you were with the CIA, but that had been weeks ago and you’re sure you’ve forgotten the right way to do it. Even if you tried, he’d likely sigh and do it himself anyway.

He lets out a breath, pocketing one of the wraps before grabbing your right wrist. His hands are just as rough as you remember them being the day you punched Corporal Allen, calluses dragging against your skin as he meticulously wraps the fabric around your fingers. You watch him, trying to memorize how to do it in hopes that maybe, eventually, you’ll surprise him and manage it yourself.

He finishes your hands quickly before wrapping his own. You flex your hands, trying to get used to the feeling of the wraps. They’re not too tight, shockingly. You had half expected him to choke your fingers until they’re purple just because. But, you also know Price will be looking for any mark or sign of injury as soon as he sees you at breakfast. The thought of him laying into Ghost for even a bruise as your stomach twisting, and not in a bad way.

“Make a fist.” Ghost says, crossing his arms as he stands in front of you.

You stare at his bulging muscles for a second too long, quickly curling your fingers as your face warms.

He takes hold of your hand, inspecting your fist. “Not bad.”

“I did grow up with brothers.” You murmur.

“Did they ever hit you?” He asks as he turns you to face the boxing bag.

“Only playfully.” You say, missing the subtle edge to his voice. “Dad would have caved their heads in if they ever tried.”

You can’t see the way he’s staring at you as he stands slightly behind you, but you can feel his gaze as it lingers for just a second longer than you expected it to. You’re not sure if maybe he doesn’t believe you, or maybe he knows there’s more to the story. You’ve hardly spoken about your family since your arrival, but they seemed to accept the fact that they haven’t been your family for years now as a valid reason.

“Get into your fighting stance.” He finally says, moving around you as you take the stance you had perfected last training session. “Good.” He says, looking you over. “Now throw a punch at the bag.”

You squeeze your fists, imagining Corporal Allen’s face on the bag before you throw a punch, barely managing to move the bag.

“Punches like that are what will get you hurt.” Ghost says, extending your arm. “You can throw your weight, which is good. That’s why you were able to throw Allen off his feet. You’re asking for a broken arm, though. Keep your arm flat and facing downwards through the entire punch. Aim with the knuckles and twist your lower body for support.”

He throws a punch at the bag, the sound of his fist hitting it loud, and you watch the bag swing back and forth violently. He could probably punch through you if he wanted to. Your pitiful punch wouldn’t even stun him.

He stops the bag from swinging, having you throw repeated punches at it. He fixes your form and technique as you go, teaching you different kinds of punches. Your arms quickly get tired, and you know you’re going to be sore again. Maybe you should take up some weight lifting or something. You could ask Soap to help you.

You go until your arms feel like they're going to fall off, your shoulders burning. “I can't anymore.” You whine, breathing heavily from the exertion of throwing punches for 30 minutes.

“You have to learn to push through the pain.” He says, looming over you. “You think in a fight, everyone will just stop because your arms are tired? Or you're a little sore?”

He has a point.

You take half a step back as he invades your space, leaning down close to you. “If they're out for blood, they won't even stop even as you're bleeding out in front of them.” His eyes are dark, biting into you, speaking volumes of his knowledge and experience. You wonder how many times he's been in that situation, how many times he's had to fight quite literally for his life. He steps away from you, moving towards the center of the mat. “Come on. I'll teach you some combinations.”

You don't want to follow him. You want to curl up in a corner and nap for the next four hours. You don't doubt he'll find a way to force you, though, so you move to the center of the mat with a sigh.

He teaches you different combinations, working through them over and over. You're sloppy, mixing up which punch is which, which move means what. It only gets worse as you get more and more tired, but Ghost is relentless.

Finally after almost an hour and a half of training, he calls it. Your legs are shaking and you can barely lift your arms to unravel the wraps from around your hands. You sink onto the floor, laying out flat on the padding as you try to catch your breath.

“Come on.” Ghost says, lacing up his shoes. “You'll have time to shower before breakfast if we get back now.”

“Wait. Just gimme a minute.” You breathe, not even sure you have the willpower to get up from the floor, much less the muscle power.

He lets out a sigh before approaching you, bending down to slip his hands under your arms. “On your feet, soldier.”

He lifts you easily, far too easily. Your legs shake, nearly giving out as you're forced onto them. You pout, ignoring the ache in your bones as you're forced upright.

“‘M not a soldier.” You murmur.

“In here with me, you are. You want to learn to fight, you get treated just like everyone else I've taught.” He says, glowering down at you. “Now get your shoes on and let's go.”

Your brows pull into a frown, but you do as he says, slipping your shoes back on and your jacket. You had hoped perhaps he would have a little mercy, given your status and inexperience, but it seems you're not even being awarded that. You know part of it is his revenge for you invading his protective circle around Soap, for kissing Soap in front of him.

The frown doesn't leave your face as you follow him back to the barracks, having to almost run to keep up with him.

“You look tired.”

“I am. I had training with Ghost again this morning.”

“How is that going?”

“It's hard.” You admit, sinking back in your chair. “He's hard on me. He sees me as a soldier, not an omega.”

“Have you brought this up to him?” Dr. Keller asks, crossing her feet as she relaxes on the couch across from you.

You nod. “Yeah. He said I have to push through it, because if I wind up in a real fight, they won't go easy on me.”

“Well, I can’t say he’s wrong about that. But, that’s still no excuse.” Dr. Keller tilts her head at you. “You could bring it up to Captain Price. He is your pack alpha, and he’s also Lieutenant Riley’s. I don’t doubt he’d bring it up to him on your behalf.”

He would, but you don’t really want to stir the pot in that way. The last thing you need to do is become a tattle-tail. It’s quiet between you for a few moments, Dr. Keller shuffling her papers as you mark a clear end to that conversation.

“How did you do on your assignment? I see you’re wearing a different sweatshirt this morning.” She says, eyeing you.

You’re wearing Price’s sweatshirt, the one he gifted you. You’ve been wearing it almost every day, his scent still clinging to the fabric. Your face warms as she stares at you, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, but...I didn’t ask for this one. Price gave it to me after I told him about where my other one came from. I uh...I kissed Soap. And Gaz.”

“Oh?” Her brows raise, and she writes something down on the paper. Your face warms even more as you watch her pen move with every letter. You can only imagine what she’s putting down. “Is that something you wanted? I know we talked briefly about it last time.” She says.

You nod. “Yes. I did want it. I...I also...kneeled...with Price...Did a couple times actually...”

Dr. Keller’s mouth opens in surprise, her eyes shining as she looks at you. “You did? That’s huge! That’s an incredible development! Did you initiate, or did he?”

“I did.” You say bashfully, sinking back further into the chair. “Both times.”

Dr. Keller smiles at you, looking almost proud. “This is a big step in the right direction. How did it go? Were you able to relax?”

You nod. “Yeah. It was nice. He was...gentle. He did it right.”

“Good. How did you do coming down from it? I know it can be intense and difficult for some omegas.” She asks.

You shrug. “Fine. I felt it a bit the morning after, but it wasn’t too bad. I fell asleep on him both times.”

“Oh?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Did you stay with him?”

You shake your head. “No, Gaz took me to my room both times.”

“Good. That’s good practice, for when your heat comes. Shows how much trust they have in each other.”

You hadn’t really thought of that. There was a lot of trust involved in omega’s heats. Omegas have to trust their alphas to take care of them while they’re blind with insatiable need, but both alpha and omega have to trust a beta to keep them alive. Your heat will trigger Price’s rut and make him lose control for a while, and it will be up to Gaz to keep you both fed and hydrated. He’ll be the one to help you both afterwards as well.

“Have you started nesting yet?” Dr. Keller asks.

You shake your head. “No. Don’t feel any drive to either.”

Dr. Keller hums as she writes something down. “Well, it has only been two weeks. Though, perhaps if you can manage to ask for some things to make your space more comfortable, that might help ease you into it.”

You chew on your lip, tugging at the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You know she’s right. Until you’re comfortable and feel safe enough, you won’t feel the drive to nest. You’ll need to nest before your heat arrives. Otherwise, it’ll cause issues for both you and Price.

“When...when should I be worried?” You ask.

“Hmm...” Dr. Keller looks at her calendar. “If you’re not feeling any sort of drive to nest by our next appointment, then I’d say we may need to consider using some exercises to help jump start it.”

“Exercises?” You ask warily.

“All easy things.” She reassures you. “Things like scent introductions, tactile explorations, and some bonding exercises might be helpful as well.” She writes something down on a sticky note. “I’ll explain everything in detail and you’ll get to choose whether you want to do any of it or not. No one’s going to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, alright?”

Tears prick your eyes at her words, and you furiously blink them back. It’s a little late for that kind of sentiment. Your presence here alone was thanks to a long line of people forcing you to do things you’re not comfortable with. It was easy to get lost in the excitement and the emotions of bonding with a pack, easy to forget that you would never have chosen this place had you ever been given the option to choose.

You would have gone far from the military, far from this kind of life. It’s your duty to bond with an alpha, but what if you don’t want to? What if it’s all a front, and as soon as you’re claimed the curtains rise and suddenly everything is different? What if Price isn’t as kind as you’ve come to believe him? Just one squeeze too tightly around the back of your neck while you’re kneeling and everything would change.

How easily he could take everything from you.

“You want to talk about what’s going on in your head right now?” Dr. Keller asks, breaking the silence between you two.

You hadn’t even noticed you’d been staring off into space, lost in your thoughts. Of course she knows something’s changed. She’s spent years learning the ins and outs of omegas and all the secrets you can only imagine. She’s probably just as in tune with subtle changes as the four well trained soldiers that make up your new pack. Maybe even more in tune with them.

You shake your head, keeping your gaze on the floor.

“Remember nothing shared in this room leaves this room. It’ll always only be between us.” She says softly.

You’re panicking. You can feel the pressure rising within you. You’re like a grenade and someone is about to pull the pin. You’re afraid you’ll spill everything to her, afraid you’ll let out things you’ve successfully kept buried for years and years. Things you’ve left behind, things you’ve had to move on from. Things you can’t afford to let out now.

“I’d like to be done now.” You silently curse the way your voice shakes.

Dr. Keller’s brows pull into a frown but she nods. “Okay.” She slips her papers into her notebook before standing. “Let me grab my keys.”

You stand as she moves to her desk, grabbing her keys from the drawer. She leads you from her office, thankfully staying quiet as you walk through the rain towards the barracks. You’re still panicking, the turmoil inside you probably projecting the sour scent across the entire courtyard but you don’t care. You can’t.

“Remember, if you ever need anything, I’m usually in my office.” Dr. Keller says as she drops you off at the door.

You feel guilty as you hurry to your room, shoes squeaking on the tile. You feel bad for cutting the appointment off early, you feel bad for feeling the way you do. Later you’ll be grateful for Dr. Keller respecting your boundaries and not pushing, for following through with her promise and letting you be in control of the appointment.

Right now you don’t care. Right now you can’t care. You’re too lost in your turmoil, the bitter scent of your distress seeping out from under the locked door.

“...can ye talk tae me, hen? Let me know yer alright?”

The soft voice coming through the closed door pulls you out from your burrow under the thin blanket. You blink blearily at your phone, trying to see the time. It’s just a little past the normal time you go to lunch with them. How long have they been knocking on the door?

“Come on, lass.” Soap’s voice comes through the door again. “I dinnae want tae have tae kick in the door.”

You force yourself out from under the blanket, pocketing your phone before quickly moving to your door. You throw it open, Soap’s eyes immediately scanning you as you rub tiredly at your eyes. You don’t doubt he’d kick in your door if he felt he had to.

“Sorry,” You yawn. “I was asleep.”

His eyebrows raise as he stares down at you. “Ye were asleep? Ye weren’t kidding about bein’ a heavy sleeper.” He leads you from the barracks, crossing the courtyard towards the mess.

“One time, when I was about two or three, my dad took us to some demonstration on base.” You say as you begin walking to the mess with him. “I fell asleep about halfway through and slept through a howitzer going off.”

Soap lets out a laugh so loud it echoes in the courtyard. “Ye slept through a howitzer?”

You nod. “Yup. My dad never let me live it down. I heard it all the time. ‘You’ll have to try hard to wake her, she slept through a howitzer once.’”

Soap chuckles, leading you into the mess. “Ye are a deep sleeper.”

You shrug. “I did say so. My phone will wake me up though. Alarms, calls.”

“I’ll keep tha’ in mind.” He says as he guides you through the line, making your tray for you.

You sit between Price and Gaz as usual, feeling a bit on edge still despite your nap after your appointment. You hadn’t gotten to sleep for very long, not nearly long enough to clear your head completely. You know they can tell, Gaz slowly shifting closer and closer to you, Price’s gaze flickering to you out of the corner of his eye every so often. Even Ghost’s eyes pass over you every so often as they sweep across the mess.

You wonder if he feels responsible.

You hope he does.

Soap walks you back to the barracks after lunch and you spend the afternoon burrowed under your blanket again. You’re exhausted and sore after a long morning of training and your appointment. You wish you could sink back into sleep, let the emotions pass without you having to feel them, but you’re too awake now. Too aware of them as they prickle in the back of your mind.

Dinner passes without incident, but you can’t ignore the feelings still stirring within you. You feel agitated and on edge, not even pacing your room helping you. You let out a breath before you put your slippers on, slipping out of your door. You make your way down the hallway, turning right instead of left like you would if you were heading for the rec room. The door is cracked open and you pause just before you reach it, suddenly feeling nervous. You shouldn’t really. There was no reason to be nervous, yet you can’t help the urge in the back of your mind to turn tail and race back down the hallway to the safety of your room.

“You can come in, unless you’d prefer standing in the hallway all evening.” A voice calls from inside the office.

Your face warms a bit at getting caught, but he could probably hear you coming down the hallway. He could probably smell you too.

You push open the door, slipping inside before closing it behind you. Price stares at you from his desk as you stand there, shifting nervously on your feet. You feel agitated, on edge still. You’re worked up, and you don’t quite know why.

“Everything alright?” Price asks, likely picking up on your nervous energy.

Yes. You want to say, but then you’d have to come up with a reason as to why you sought him out, why you feel so worked up. You could just kneel for him. It’s what you should do, let yourself be eased into a peaceful state of mind. Let him take care of you.

“I don’t know.”

The words are hardly more than a whisper, your voice trembling just as much as you are. Your chest feels tight, your breaths becoming shallow. You're not sure when he got up, when he even moved. His scent wraps around you, warmth encompassing your being as your face is pushed against his chest.

“I need you to breathe for me.” Price says, pressing your ear against his chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heart, the air flowing in and out of his lungs.

You close your eyes, trying to match your breaths to his. It's hard, your body fighting your attempt to regulate it. You close your eyes, focusing on the soft fabric of Price's shirt against your cheek, the warmth of his hand on your head as he keeps you pinned against his chest. It's not constricting or suffocating. It's grounding, keeping you from drowning in your own thoughts.

He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to as he holds you there, letting you calm down. You begin to slowly relax, your arms wrapping around his waist, fingers gripping the back of his shirt.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” He murmurs, lips brushing the top of your head.

“I don’t know.” You whisper, still clinging to his shirt. “I’m just...I feel off. Ghost was being hard on me this morning and then I got upset during my appointment and I’ve just felt on edge all day and I can’t relax because I can’t get comfortable!”

Price tightens his grip around you just slightly. “What do you mean?”

You huff out a breath, squeezing your eyes closed so the tears don’t escape as the words leave you in a flood before you can stop them. “The blankets aren’t soft enough and the pillows are too thin and it’s too dark and I’m tired of smelling like bland soap!”

Price hums quietly, squeezing you gently as a tear slides down your cheek. “Then we should do something to fix that.”

“But I shouldn’t need it!” You cry, trying to push away from him, but he keeps you tight against his chest. “I’m supposed to be a good omega and adapt and learn to be comfortable where I am.”

“That might be what you were taught,” He says, letting you push away from his chest, but he wraps his hands around your arms, keeping you in front of him. “But things don’t have to be that way. We should have taken care of something like this sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t even think of it. You shouldn’t have had to ask for it.”

You blink up at him, genuinely surprised by his words. “I...what?”

“We all have our own little comforts that we keep. Soap sleeps with a stuffed bear. Don’t tell him I told you that.”

A small smile tugs at your lips at the mental image of Soap snuggling up with a teddy bear.

“You deserve some comfort too.” He says, squeezing your arms.

“But, it’s not...regulation.” You say.

“Doesn’t have to be.” He says. “You’re not a soldier. Even then, the only ones going in there are us. The only thing I can’t approve of is painting the walls. Unfortunately the prison grey has to stay.”

You can’t help but laugh, wiping the tear from your cheek. “I suppose that’s alright. Just...as long as it’s not as dark and maybe a soft blanket or something. That’s really all I need.”

He hums, staring down at you. You can’t quite figure out the look on his face, something shining in his eyes. “We’ll get it figured out.” He says, squeezing your arms again.

“Get some shoes on. We’re going on a trip.”

You look up from your book, staring at Price as he stands in the rec room. He’s dressed in civilian clothes, arms crossed as he stares down at you on the couch. You mark your place in your book, pushing yourself up to sit. It’s a Saturday afternoon, and unlike last week they had the day off, which means you do as well.

“Are you going to make me hike through the woods for two hours again, sir?” You ask, pushing yourself up to stand.

“No. We’re going into town.” He says.

You blink at him. You haven’t been off base since you arrived, and you figured you probably wouldn’t be getting that opportunity any time soon. “Can I ask why, sir?”

“We’ve got some shopping to do.” He says simply, turning and leaving the rec room.

You stand there shocked for a moment before you’re following after him, slipping into your room to put comfortable shoes on and grab your phone and a jacket. You don’t even have a wallet to carry around to make yourself feel better.

Price is waiting by the door for you, a car parked outside. You’re slow to approach him, suddenly feeling a mix of emotions. He’s doing this for you. He’d really taken your conversation last night to heart and now he’s going to go spend money on you that he doesn’t need to.

“What’s that look for sweetheart?” He asks, standing in front of the door.

“You don’t have to do this.” You say, staring up at him. He seems so tall like this, so...imposing.

“Course I do.” He says, his gaze softening just slightly. “Should have done it sooner. You deserve to be comfortable too.” He says, turning to open the door.

You follow him out, climbing into the car when he opens the door for you. He gets in the driver’s seat, the car rumbling to life. He drives to the front gate, passing off two ID cards to the guards. He passes one to you when the guard hands them back, the gate in front of you opening.

“That’s your ID card. Gets you on and off base.” He explains as he drives away from the gate. “I doubt you’ll be leaving on your own, but just in case.”

“Thank you, sir.” You say, slipping the card under your phone case for the time being.

He glances at you, a small smile on his lips. “You can call me John, if you'd like. You don't need to be formal when we're in private.”

“Yes, sir.” You make a face, biting your lip at your automatic response. “Sorry. Old habits.”

“From the institute?” He asks.

You shake your head. “My dad, actually. He was a firm believer in respecting authority figures. All ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ by the time we were old enough to know the difference.”

“Sounds like my father.” He says, staring out at the road ahead. “Old grizzled military man.”

“Do you still have contact with him?” You ask curiously. You don’t know much of anything about their families, their backgrounds.

“Not really. Beyond holidays, neither of us really make an effort to talk to the other. After mum passed, there wasn’t much to talk about.” He says.

“She was the glue.” You say, watching the trees pass by the car.

“Yeah.” He huffs out a laugh. “As betas usually are.”

“Do you have any siblings?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you. You know next to nothing about them, while they likely know your entire life story.

“No,” He shakes his head. “Just me. You have a lot of siblings.”

You nod. “Seven at the time I left for the institute. Could be more now.”

“They never tried to keep contact with you?” He asks.

“Nope.” You turn to look out the window. “The institute didn’t really encourage it either, because we were being prepared to join new packs. That’s hard to do when you still have bonds with your old ones. I think they might have forcibly ended some. I know there were some omegas that tried to keep contact, but it became less and less until eventually it just stopped.”

Price’s hands tighten around the steering wheel just slightly. You wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been paying attention. Silence settles in the car as he drives, farmlands passing until the houses start getting closer and closer together. You stare at the buildings as he drives through town, a blend of historical and modern.

“It’s beautiful here.” You say, watching people and cars pass by.

“I suppose so.” He says, glancing at you. “I grew up in this area.”

You turn to look at him. “You did? I didn’t know that. Then again, I don’t know much about any of you.”

“You can ask us, you know.” He says. “We don’t have to be that secretive with you. At least not about ourselves.”

He pulls into a parking lot, opening your door for you and helping you out of the car. You slip your hand into his, holding it as you cross the parking lot. You stare up at the store. ASDA. You’ve never heard of it before, though you suppose the stores would be different here too.

Price drops your hand to grab a cart, the store bustling with people. You hang onto the edge of the cart, staying close to Price’s side. “We’re here for you.” He says, guiding you through the aisles. “Get whatever you want.”

He’s led you to the homegoods section, your eyes widening at the entire aisle of blankets and bedding in front of you. You try to take it all in, but you feel a bit overwhelmed. There’s so many choices, so many options.

“Pick out as many as you want. Don’t worry about the price.” He says, before you can protest. “We get paid decently, but don’t have many chances to use it. Let me do this for you.”

You stare up into his eyes, the sincerity in them, before you nod, turning back to the wall of blankets before you. You study them, running your hand along them to find the softest ones, doing as he says and ignoring the price tags. You settle on a couple soft ones, grabbing a throw blanket as well that you can pack around to the rec room if you want to. He takes you to the pillow aisle, and you settle on a pair of fluffy pillows, as well as a couple decorative ones as well.

“Here.” He slips a big plush strawberry into your arms before you leave the aisle, your cheeks warming as you look at it. “Makes me think of you.”

You preen at his words, holding onto the strawberry as you make for the lamps and nightlights, settling on a cat shaped one that will sit on your desk and changes colors. You pick up a few other items before heading for the toiletries, finally setting the strawberry in the cart as you zero in on the soaps and body washes. You smell all the strawberry scented ones, trying to find the perfect one.

“Why strawberry?” Price asks as you put a strawberries and cream scented body wash in the cart.

“Compliments my scent.” You explain as he leads you to the shampoo and conditioner. “We had a scent specialist come to the institute one time as an activity. We all figured out what our scents smell like and what notes compliment them the best.”

An arm wraps around your waist before you can look at the shampoo, pulling you back against a broad chest. Price’s nose presses into your neck and he inhales deeply. He lets out a content hum, his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your neck. “I think you’re right.”

Your face burns hot as he presses a gentle kiss against the side of your neck before releasing you. You stand there for a moment, trying to calm the heat rushing through your body and focus on the shampoo. You hear him chuckle as you shuffle forward, your face still burning as you smell the shampoo bottles.

You settle on one, holding onto Price’s arm as you continue around the store, picking up a few other items and a couple for himself as well before heading to the checkout.

You hold on to Price’s arm as you leave the store, sticking close to him as he loads the bags into the trunk. You can feel the slight tension in his body, the way his eyes scan the parking lot every few seconds. You can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must be for him to relax, especially out in public. How fast his mind has to be running, how alert he is to everyone and everything. A threat could come out of nowhere, could come from anyone.

It must be exhausting.

“Hungry, sweetheart?” He asks as he buckles his seatbelt.

“Always.” You answer, leaning on the center console.

He smiles. “What are you in the mood for?”

You blink at him. Most of the restaurants you know probably don’t exist in England. “Fish and chips?” You offer, pulling up the one British food you’re confident in naming.

“Fish and chips it is.” He says, turning on the car.

“I have yet to have real fish and chips.” You say, settling into the passenger seat.

“Well, I know the perfect place.” He says, pulling out of the parking lot.

You don’t have to go far before he’s parking on the street and helping you out of the car. His hand settles on your lower back, guiding you down the street to a fish and chips shop.

It's too early for the dinner rush, the shop mostly empty and quiet. Price orders for you before guiding you to a table, and you let him sit facing the door and front window. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. They seem so relaxed on base, though you suppose that's the place they feel the most comfortable. You can't even imagine the kinds of things they've seen, the horrors they've been subjected to.

You don't want to think about the things they've done.

Your eyes snap downwards as Price's hand slides across the table, closing around yours. You don't want to think about the things he's done with those hands. The lives he's taken, the people he's tortured. Will he ever turn those hands on you?

They've given you no reason to fear them yet. They've all been kind, polite. Even Ghost hasn't truly given you a reason to fear him, despite his obvious disapproval and hard exterior.

You know nothing about them.

You've known them for just over two weeks. You can't possibly have any understanding of who they are, how they express their emotions. What if they get upset? What happens when they get angry? What if you anger them?

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you. Any of it.” Price says, drawing you from your worried thoughts. “I know you were taught to expect this, perhaps not this exact situation, but something like this. Being sent off to some strange alpha to join their pack, bonding with complete strangers. None of us were expecting this either. It’s been an adjustment in a lot of ways, but I want you to know that we’ll take care of you. You need anything, you tell us. You want anything, we’ll do our best to make it happen. We’ll keep you safe.” He lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I promise you that.”

You want to believe him. You really do. They haven’t given you any reason to not believe it.

It’s only been two weeks.

You continue to talk with him as you eat, making light conversation, getting to know him a bit more. Despite the trickling uncertainty in the back of your mind, it feels good. It feels like a date, something you had dreamed of before you presented, something you had imagined happening when you finally got old enough to start looking for potential mates and packs.

Of course, back then, you had thought you’d be an alpha.

It had been expected of you.

Price has his arm wrapped around you as you walk back to the car, his hand on your hip. It’s possessive almost, and it makes your stomach flutter. Price is the only one you haven’t kissed yet, well, besides Ghost, but you’re certain you’d wind up through a wall if you even thought of trying. It’s almost ironic that Price would be the last, considering he’s going to be the one claiming you, the one you spend your heat with.

You stare out the window as the buildings fade into farmlands again. The sun is setting, painting the world in oranges and reds. You still feel a bit warm from Price’s possessive hold on you, his teasing in the store. You can still feel the tickle of his beard on your skin, his lips pressing against your neck.

You jump when rough fingers trail down your arm, pulling it from where it had been resting in your lap.

“You were right.” Price says as he lifts your hand to his face, pressing his nose against your wrist and inhaling for a moment. “Strawberries are the strongest note in your scent.” He lowers your hand again, lacing your fingers together. “What’s got you all worked up over there.”

You stare at him, your face getting warm again. Of course he can smell it. You can smell the muskiness beginning to form around the edges of his scent. Desire. “You haven’t kissed me yet.” You say, moving his hand into your lap. “You're the only one that hasn't...well, besides Ghost.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh. “You sound disappointed.”

You untangle your fingers with his, letting his hand rest on your thigh. “What if I am?”

His fingers flex against your leg, the muskiness of his scent strengthening. “Then maybe we should fix that.”

The cocktail of scents in the car is intoxicating, and you feel bad for the poor beta soldier at the gate when Price rolls down the window to hand off your IDs.

Price is out of the car as soon as it's parked, moving around to your side to open the door. He pins you against the side of the car as soon as you're out, caging you in with his arms.

You stare up at him, head swimming with the musk laced in his scent. You can see his eyes shining in the light next to the door of the barracks. He looks like a hungry wolf, the back of your neck prickling with excitement.

He leans down, breath fanning your face as he gets closer and closer to you. You press yourself against him, hands gripping his shoulders as he presses his lips to yours. His lips are surprisingly soft, his beard tickling your face. He growls quietly against your lips, pushing you harder against the side of the car.

You let out a quiet sound in response, hands gripping his jacket. His hands slide from the car to your sides, sliding down to grip your hips. You can feel the muscle hidden beneath his jacket and shirt, the strength that he possesses. He may not be purebred like Ghost, but he’s still every inch an alpha.

You let out another quiet sound as he pulls away, pressing a caste kiss to the corner of your lips. “Bloody hell, now I know what those boys were on about.” He breathes, leaning his forehead against yours.

“They were talking about me?” You ask, pulling back slightly.

“Only good things.” Price grins, leaning down to kiss you again. “Sweet as sugar.” He breathes, kissing you again. “And just as addicting.” He pulls away from you, his hands resting on your waist. “We should get your stuff inside so you can get it all set up. Want me to fetch one of the boys to help?”

You bite your lip. “Or you could just do it.”

He stares down at you, something flashing across his face but you can’t quite make it out in the low light. “You’re sure?” His voice is quiet, taking on that soft tone it often does when he speaks to you.

“You’ll have to eventually.” You shrug. “Might as well start now.”

He leans down, kissing you again before pulling away, opening up the trunk. He grabs most of the bags, only leaving the pillows for you to grab before he leads the way into the barracks. You open your door, stepping in first before he follows. You dump your pillows on the bed, and he sets the rest of the bags on your desk.

“Blankets in the wash.” You say, digging them out of the bags, pulling the tags off.

“I’ll take them.” He says, fishing out his stuff from the bags before taking the blankets from you.

You switch out your pillows for the softer ones, organizing the decorative ones just the way you want. You squish the strawberry to your chest again, a smile forming on your face before you flop back onto the bed, sinking into the soft pillows. It’s almost perfect, you think.

“Comfortable?” Price’s voice rumbles in the doorway, a smile on his face as he stares at you.

“Much better.” You say, sitting up and placing the strawberry in its place.

The two of you finish taking everything out of the bags, decorating the rest of your room. The posters on the walls, and the nightlight on your desk. It feels far more homey already, and you know you’re going to sleep well tonight once the blankets are out of the wash.

“Thank you.” You say, looking up at Price. “This really means a lot.”

“All in a day’s work, love.” He says, pulling you into his arms again.

You lean against his chest, resting your head over his heart, listening to it beat steadily against your ear.

You wake up suddenly, yet you’re not quite sure why. There’s no one in your room, your new nightlight easily showing you that. Your mouth is dry, but there’s a line of wetness down your chin. You reach across your nightstand, your phone illuminating the time.

Just past one a.m.

You smack your lips, feeling thirsty after the excitement of the day. You’d forgotten to grab water when you left the rec room and you huff out a sigh. You don’t want to get up, but now that you’re aware you’re thirsty, there’s no stopping those thoughts.

You don’t even bother with slippers as you pad to the door, opening it up. You leave it cracked as you sleepily shuffle towards the rec room, the barracks almost dead quiet this late. You grab a bottle from the fridge, unscrewing the top before drinking a few gulps. It’s cold and tastes divine, soothing the dryness of your mouth. You screw the top back on, closing the fridge before heading back towards your room.

You turn the corner, still half asleep, nearly yelping as you slam into a chest. You stumble back a couple steps, staring up at the covered face looming over you. You gulp, holding the bottle to your chest.

“S-Sorry.” You stutter.

“You’re out of bed.” He says quietly, voice rumbling in the silence.

“Thirsty.” It’s all you can manage as you hold up the bottle.

He stares at you for a long moment, eyes flickering all over your face. His chest is heaving, almost as if he had been running before you ran into him. His hands are closed into fists at his sides, knuckles almost white with how tense he is. You think for a moment he might be mad, but you can’t catch any whiff of ozone in the air. Your nose prickles at the scent, but it’s not anger.

Your tired brain can’t make sense of it, yearning to sink back into the softness of your bed again. You slowly shuffle around him, taking cautious steps, waiting for him to reach out and stop you, but he doesn’t. He simply watches you go, standing there in the hallway as you slip back into your room, not moving until he hears the click of your lock slipping into place.

NEXT ->

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #poly 141 #task force 141 x reader #omegaverse #a/b/o #alpha/beta/omega dynamics

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allaboutthemoonlight · 8 months ago

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How to Build Self Discipline

Cultivating self-discipline is the way towards personal growth and achieving long-term goals. To me, it’s really all about making choices that honor your well-being and identity.

Understand that self-discipline is about self love and respect

It’s not about punishment or deprivation, but rather caring for yourself enough to make choices that align with your long-term well-being and goals.

You’re showing yourself the respect you deserve by honoring and committing to changes you want to make.

It’s all about recognizing your worth and having the motivation and courage to pursue what’s really best for you, even when it requires a lot of effort and decision-making.

Frame your identity in a way that includes discipline

How we act directly ties to our identities and how we believe we are. If you believe you’re a successful individual, you’ll live a life framed by confidence and determination. If you believe you’re someone who is lazy and unmotivated, you’ll struggle to find the drive to pursue your goals and aspirations.

Gaining discipline is all about acting as the person you believe you are and moving through life in a way that’s consistent with your determined identity. The key here is to try to imagine who you are at your highest self in a disciplined state of mind.

To start this, ask yourself these questions and slowly arrange your life in a way so there’s no distance between who you are now and your highest self:

What does your day look like

What do you eat

What do you wear

What does your week look like

What does your work day look like

What hobbies do you have

What’s your morning and night routine

Who are you surrounded by

What do you say yes and no to

Have systems in your life

I recently wrote a post about habits and mentioned the idea of systems versus goals. Here, I want to delve a bit deeper into that concept within the context of self-discipline.

To me, another way to truly live a disciplined life is to establish starting systems, something that will propel you past hurdles and reduce the friction that accompanies change.

Let’s say you want to improve your eating habits and cultivate discipline in consuming less sugar while incorporating more whole foods into your diet. You could begin by implementing a system of prepping healthy snacks or meals in advance at the start of each week, or however you see fit. By having these snacks readily available, you eliminate the need for decision-making, making it easier to adhere to your goal.

Anything that serves as a reminder or facilitates consistent action toward your desired outcome is a valuable system in your life.

Be okay with not doing something and embrace the mindset of small wins

This may seem paradoxical in the context of developing self-discipline, but being okay with not doing something is crucial. There are times in life when we need tough love and motivation, but there are also moments when compassion is the driving force that propels us forward.

When you don’t follow through with something, whether it’s going for a run or preparing a healthy dinner, it’s important to be okay with it. You don’t need to shame yourself or feel guilty for not taking action because that will only reinforce negative thought patterns, making it harder to create the change you desire.

Consider this: if you miss a planned run and spiral into self-criticism, you’re more likely to avoid running altogether. However, if you approach the situation with understanding and compassion, you’ll be more inclined to try again next time.

This is where small daily victories come into play. Sometimes, all we need is one small step forward to develop a new habit and maintain consistency. Whatever you're striving to improve or change, if it feels daunting, tell yourself, "Just for today, I'll do a 15-minute workout instead of the full hour," or "Just for today, I'll read 5 pages instead of the entire chapter," and celebrate these as small victories. Doing so not only helps you establish new habits but also allows you to acknowledge the progress you've made and the trust you've built within yourself.

—Luna

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punkshort · 3 months ago

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Swept Away | Chapter 10: Turn the Tide

Pairing: sugardaddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: A devastating discovery leads you back into Joel's arms. But do you both have what it takes to make it work?

Chapter Warnings: language, sugar baby/daddy dynamics, mountains of angst, miscarriage (discussions and descriptions included, not terribly graphic, blood is mentioned, please skip if this is triggering for you), hurt/comfort, fluff, brief mention of vomit, anxiety, reader has long-ish hair, smut (18+ MDNI), fingering, protected piv sex, secrets are revealed and explain some underlying anxieties/trust issues

WC: 16.6K

Series Masterlist

One Month Later

"Jesus Christ, this place is doing a number on my allergies," Celine whined when she opened your apartment door to find you curled up on your couch with a heating pad. She looked around the room and shook her head, dropping her purse and keys on your floor because every single flat surface was being taken up by flowers. Flowers Joel had been sending you every fucking day since he dropped you off. "How can you stand it in here?"

"I can't," you muttered, staring listlessly at the television while she opened up the windows as far as they would go. "Been meaning to look into places where I could donate them but I'm in the middle of the worst period of my fucking life."

"Yeah, I can see that," she replied before collapsing in a huff on the other end of your couch. Her eyes skimmed your coffee table, filled with pain killers, water and tea before she asked, "Have you eaten?"

You nodded and pointed to the empty bowl under the table. "I heated up some soup."

"Maybe you should call your doctor, are your periods usually this bad?" she asked before picking up the dirty dishes and heading to your sink.

"No," you groaned, rolling onto your back with a wince. "I'm on the pill. They're usually a breeze."

"Then you should definitely call," she said over her shoulder. "Can't hurt to get checked out."

"Yeah? With what health insurance?" you countered angrily as you forced yourself to sit up.

"Still no luck finding a job?"

You shook your head then sneezed, scowling at the roses nearby like it was their fault.

"Then use some of the fifty fucking thousand dollars he gave you and see a goddamn doctor!" she exclaimed after drying your bowl and putting it away. "I know you don't want to use it but it doesn't matter, he won't know either way."

Fifty grand. He had wired you fifty grand instead of twenty. You spent a week going back and forth with your bank, making them reject the funds over and over until you finally caved because you couldn't stand to waste any more time on the phone with them over it. You had decided you would donate it like he suggested, but you never figured out where. Between that and all the flowers he kept sending, you couldn't decide if you should be flattered or pissed off.

On that particular day, with your uterus trying to extract itself from your body, you chose to be pissed off.

As if on cue, your buzzer rang and you could have screamed at the top of your lungs, already knowing who it was. Celine got to the intercom first and pressed the button.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, it's Jim, got today's flowers."

You grabbed a pillow and screamed into it, deciding to give into your urge.

"Alright, buzzing you up."

You heard her press the other button and hold it a few seconds before unlocking your door and leaving it cracked.

"He's in love with you," she said matter-of-factly from the door.

"I'm going to fucking kill him," you replied, making her laugh.

A light tap on the door came a few minutes later and Celine pushed it open to greet Jim, an older man with a white beard that reminded you of Santa, before she signed for the flowers.

"Jim, don't you have someone you could give these to instead?" you asked from the couch. He shook his head and grinned before handing over the vase of peonies, dahlias and roses.

"You know I can't do that."

You made a face and collapsed into the back of your couch.

"Maybe if you just call him, it'll end," Jim offered, "although I don't mind. You're keeping the shop afloat at this point," he joked.

"That's exactly what he wants," you replied. He shrugged and gave you a wave with a see you tomorrow, then disappeared down the hall. Celine closed the door and looked around the room for a clear spot before giving up and setting them on the ground.

"Maybe flower guy was right. Maybe you should call him."

"He's just used to getting his way. He can pull this shit with anyone else but I'm not gonna give in," you told her while simultaneously picking up your phone, fingers tapping angrily at your screen. She grinned and found her spot back on the couch.

"What are you doing?"

"Texting Joel and telling him to knock it the fuck off," you growled.

Celine tipped her head back and laughed. "Same thing! You're talking to him! You're giving him exactly what he wants."

"Okay, so I'm not perfect! What else is new?" you snapped after shooting off a text to Joel that said stop with the fucking flowers, I mean it.

Before Celine could reply, your phone vibrated in your lap.

Does this mean you're willing to see me? Or should I switch to chocolate?

You frowned and Celine knowingly tilted her head to the side.

"Girl. Come on. Hear him out. Maybe if you just meet up once and let him talk, he'll stop. I've never seen a guy text back as quickly as him, and he's got an actual successful business to run! Do you have a magic pussy or something, what the hell did you do to this guy?"

You cracked a smile for the first time in days. You didn't go into much detail with her since you came back. She knew you slept together and she knew he broke your heart, but everything else remained a mystery. And because she knew you would tell her in your own time, she never asked.

"I just think he's not used to hearing the word no," you told her, ignoring his text and setting your phone down on your coffee table.

"Or he's madly in love with you and doesn't know how to handle it," she countered with a raised eyebrow.

You opened your mouth to object, to remind her for the fourth time that Joel didn't fall in love with anyone, when a sharp pain shot through your legs and you doubled over with a deep groan. Celine lunged forward to rub your upper back, her smile long gone when she saw how you badly you were struggling.

"That's it. I'm calling your doctor," she said, snatching your phone from the table to scroll through your contacts.

You took a deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth, not bothering to stop her when she dialed the phone.

You sat on the exam table, a loud and irritating white piece of paper separating your thighs from the padding as your doctor sat before you, gently explaining what was happening while a low ringing began to echo in your head.

Miscarriage... hCG levels... four or five weeks... bleeding will end soon.

You just sat there in complete shock, a dumbstruck look on your face as she continued to explain it was nothing you did or didn't do, that it's extremely common, that you would likely go on to have a perfectly healthy pregnancy if you wanted. Then she said your name softly and your eyes refocused onto her bright blue ones behind her wire rimmed glasses.

"Do you have any questions?" she asked with a comforting hand on your knee.

Those glasses didn't suit her face at all, they were too round. Why didn't anyone ever tell her?

"Uh," you croaked before clearing your throat. "I'm... I'm on the pill. How did this happen?"

"It's ninety nine percent effective but it's lower if you skip days or forget to take them at the same time. Did that happen last month at all?"

Last month. When you were on the island with Joel. It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Um, well, I was in Fiji last month," you began, fingers twisting anxiously in your lap. You still only had a pink paper gown to cover you after your exam. You felt so exposed and raw that your skin hurt.

"Did you account for the time change?" she asked. Your eyes fluttered shut and you dropped your chin to your chest.

"No." How stupid. Why didn't that occur to you? "I might have forgotten a day here and there, too. There was one weekend we were away and I forgot-" you stopped yourself and pinched the bridge of your nose. "Doesn't matter, I guess."

She patted your knee again and gave it a little squeeze.

"It's alright, you're going to be okay," she assured you. You nodded and swallowed thickly before looking back up.

"I know. I just... I thought if this ever happened..." you trailed off as you struggled to find the right words. "I thought I'd feel..." you couldn't finish your sentence but she seemed to understand anyway.

"It's completely normal. You didn't even know until it was already over. You're probably just in shock, it's a lot to take in," she said before kicking off the floor so her stool would roll over to the wall that held various pamphlets. She plucked a few from the hard plastic holders and held them out to you. "These will help explain more of what you're going through, but if you have any questions or if you're finding you need a little extra help to get through this, please give the office a call. We have a twenty four hour service, they'll connect me with you, day or night."

You thanked her softly and stared blankly at the pamphlets while she gathered her things before slipping out of the room, giving you some privacy to get dressed.

It was surreal, driving back home, burdened with this brand new knowledge, this thing you had no idea how to process. Shouldn't you be sad? Shouldn't you grieve the loss in some way? Maybe your doctor was right. Maybe you were in shock.

As you walked up to your building, a familiar olive green truck rumbled up to the curb, tapping out a light beep in greeting and shaking you out of your funk.

"Oh, hey," you said, smiling weakly at Jim when he jumped out with a wave.

"Good timing," he replied before climbing into the back of the truck to hand you a teddy bear with a little rose pinned to its chest. "He's switching it up," Jim said, smile falling when he saw the look on your face. "Hey, everything okay?"

You nodded quickly and reached for the pen to scribble your name. "Yeah, sorry, just tired."

He pressed his lips into a thin line before taking the pen back and giving you one last look.

"Well, get some rest, yeah? Need some help getting up to your place?"

"No, thank you, I'm good," you told him sincerely, then gave him a little wave before heading up the stairs to your building. He called out his usual see you tomorrow and you forced a smile before disappearing inside.

You supposed it was good you hadn't found a job yet. At least you could waste away in your bed until this strange feeling passed and you could process everything.

After you changed back into comfortable clothes with the plan to find some shitty movie to zone out to, you heard your doorbell buzz. With a confused frown, you shuffled back out into the living room, wondering who it could be. Jim had already dropped off Joel's daily gift and Celine had a key.

For one stupid, foolish moment you thought it might be Joel. Like he had somehow, from across the city and with absolutely no knowledge as to what was going on, found out about the miscarriage and came to scoop you into his arms and tell you everything would be okay.

The mere thought caused tears to sting your eyes and you quickly blinked them away, chalking it up to hormonal changes and the emotional morning.

"Yes?" you called weakly through the speaker.

A man's voice replied with your name posed as a question, followed by got a delivery here for you.

You buzzed him in and curiously craned your neck out into your hall, chewing your lower lip until the elevator dinged and a man dressed in an all brown uniform emerged carrying a large, flat, square package.

When he approached, he confirmed your name again before handing you something to sign, which you did blindly as your focus was still on the box at his feet.

"Where's it from?" you asked, stepping to the side so he could set it against your wall.

"Uh..." he trailed off, distracted momentarily by all the flowers, and then squinted at the paper you just signed. "Fiji Islands. That's pretty rad. Hope it's a vacation," he joked before tucking the clipboard under his arm and exiting back out into the hallway.

It took about ten seconds after he left for you to realize what it was, yet you still shakily opened the box, your palm cupping your mouth when the bubble wrap fell to the floor and Ellie's painting sat before you. You crumpled to the ground and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the memories of pink seashells and stolen kisses and warm brown eyes and whispers of my girl. But it was staring you in the face. The painting that spoke to you before you even understood what it was saying, the painting Joel bought for you without a second thought, before you slept together, before it all fell apart.

Hot tears trickled down your face when you fumbled for your phone, your thumb hovering over the call button next to his name.

Just do it. Just call him. You wanted to hear his voice. You wanted him to hold you close and tell you it wasn't your fault. You wanted him to stay with you until the blood and the agony passed and everything from the past few hours became a horrible, distant memory.

Perhaps the shock was beginning to wear off.

At the last second, you scrolled up and tapped Celine's name instead. When she heard the broken sound of your voice, she dropped what she was doing to rush over, not even asking for details until you had stopped crying on her shoulder. You told her about your appointment. About the painting. About the seashells. About Brooks. About everything until your voice was raw and your face felt swollen and hot from crying.

She tucked you into bed and laid curled up next to you. She softly told you about her own miscarriage she had when she was nineteen. She told you the pain would go away, that the void inside would eventually fill again. But halfway through some movie she had found that mostly served as background noise, she turned to you and said the words you needed to hear. Like you were waiting for someone else's permission to give in.

"You gotta tell him, babe."

You couldn't even remember how you got there, standing in front of his hotel five days later, body now mostly recovered and fueled by caffeine from the shop three blocks away. It felt like you were drawn to him, like you weren't even making your own decisions, telling yourself you were just going to take a short walk to enjoy the weather and clear your head after downing an iced coffee.

Certainly if you had known you would have been walking through the doors of his lobby, giving the same man from that first day in the same pristine black suit a nervous smile before making your way across the room, sneakers squeaking on the floor as you walked, you would have prepared a little better.

It was quiet. The concierge looked bored and tapped her pen on a pad of paper, chin resting in her fist as she pretended to work. Elevator cars silently whirred up and down on both sides of you, the glass walls allowing you a sneak peek at guests going up to their rooms.

You cleared your throat when you approached reception, your mouth opening to give them your name when a man's surprised voice said it for you.

Swiveling around, you locked eyes with a dark haired man wearing thick rimmed glasses and a black bow tie over his tight fitting white shirt and tailored pants. You gave him a small smile, but your confusion must have been obvious because he blinked and shook his head before stepping forward and offering you his hand.

"I'm Liam," he began, "Joel's assistant."

"Oh!" you exclaimed, shaking his hand while the gears slowly turned in your head. "Oh, so you're the one who bought all the clothes and stuff."

Liam grinned and nodded, dropping your hand so he could wrap both arms around the pad-folio pressed to his chest.

"I had pictures to work with when I was choosing colors. You know, so I could best compliment your hair and skin tone. I hope you liked everything."

"Yes! Oh, yes, everything was beautiful, thank you so much," you said hurriedly, then lowered your voice when you realized you were echoing. "Uh, is he in?"

Liam's shoulders sagged and he rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Yes, thank god," he breathed, waving you over to an elevator and pressing the button. "I was afraid you were just here picking something up. I'm so glad you want to see him, he's been -"

You frowned when Liam seemed to realize he was saying too much and he cut himself off, lips pursing as he stared at the unopened elevator.

"What?"

Liam shook his head and shrugged right when the doors slid open. He beckoned for you to enter first before following, pressing the pad of his finger into a scanner and tapping a button. Only when the doors shut did he turn back to you.

"He's been worse than usual. I think he's upset about whatever happened," he explained, then waved his hands in the air and added, "I mean, he didn't tell me anything, but I'm assuming something happened because he's picking out flowers every single morning and asking me to have them delivered."

"He's been picking them out?" you repeated.

Liam just nodded. "It's none of my business, but he's never had me do this for anyone before. And I've worked for him for ten years," he said dramatically, raising his thick eyebrows at you knowingly.

"Oh," you said softly, dropping your gaze to the floor.

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open, leading you out into the same hallway you walked down over two months ago when you first met. Butterflies instantly bloomed in your stomach as you followed behind Liam, keeping your gaze low while you tried to regulate your breathing. You had no idea how you were going to tell him, no rehearsed speech, nothing.

"He's in a meeting right now, but it'll be over in," Liam glanced at his watch, "twenty minutes. I'll take you to his office and let him know you're here when he's done."

You nodded and turned the corner, Joel's office already in view when you walked by the executive conference room. It looked the same as it did in your memory, the wall that bordered the hallway made of glass and inside, a long table with high back leather chairs. Only this time, people were inside having what appeared to be a very important meeting. Men and women in suits filled the table. Papers, mugs of coffee and laptops were scattered everywhere. The flat screen televisions projected extremely big numbers connected to various cities, presumably the locations of The Parador, but what made you stumble was seeing Joel at the head of the table.

His black tie was loosened around his neck, suit coat draped over the back of his chair as he stared at the screen, then his phone, gaze bouncing back and forth while next to him, a sweaty looking man gripping a laptop with one flat, shaky hand, spoke about the numbers.

You unconsciously slowed, unable to tear your eyes away when Joel stood up. His gaze was pinned to something on his phone, which now rested on the table. He was still listening to the man on his left but the more he spoke, the angrier Joel looked. You saw his nostrils flare and his jaw set while he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, the irritation rolling off his tight shoulders until he finally snapped.

Their voices were muffled, but you probably wouldn't have been able to understand what they were talking about, anyway. Joel's brows were knit together, lips curled into a sneer as he spoke loudly enough to the group for you to hear the deep timber of his voice from where you stood in the hall.

Liam didn't say a word, allowing you to come to a standstill and watch Joel with a sly smirk from a few feet away.

You couldn't explain the feeling you had as you watched him, never before seeing him at work with your own two eyes. You knew he was important, obviously, but there was just something about the way he commanded the room, the way full grown men practically cowered when he began to pace around, his finger pointing at the sweaty man and then the screen. It made your heart race and your lips part as your breathing grew shallow, like you were in a trance.

And then Joel spun around, his eyes locking on yours through the glass like he suddenly sensed your presence, and the room went silent. His back instantly straightened and his brows relaxed and then a moment later he was storming towards the glass door.

"Joel?" you heard one of the men at the table call out when the door flung open.

"We're done, meeting's over," he tossed back over his shoulder. If you could have looked away from him, you would have seen the relieved look on all their faces as they began to hastily gather their things.

He stalked up to you, slowing to a stop when he was a couple feet away, then scanned you up and down, like he couldn't believe his eyes.

Neither of you spoke. You just stared at one another, hearts thundering wildly in your chests.

"Hey," he finally breathed, afraid if he spoke any louder he might scare you off.

"Hi," you replied timidly. Your gaze flickered around to Liam, to other people pretending to work within earshot, and to the people filing out of the conference room before meeting his eye again.

He finally snapped out of it and held out an arm, ushering you towards the direction of his office.

"C'mon," was all he said, and you quickly scurried down the hall with Joel hot on your heels.

"Can I get you anything? Coffee, water, tea?" Liam called. You could hear the smile in his voice before you turned around and said, "Water would be nice."

"I got water in here," Joel said gruffly, his hand gently grazing your lower back. He turned around to Liam and said, "No interruptions," before closing the door behind you both.

You looked around his office, everything just how you remembered it. Massive mahogany desk, dark green couch and chair near the well stocked bar, the entire room surrounded by bookshelves, awards, and various decor items, but no picture frames. How didn't you notice that before?

"Have a seat," Joel said, sliding past to get you ice water from the bar. You sunk down into the green couch, feeling just as nervous as the last time you were there.

"Thank you," you said when he placed the glass on a coaster. He nodded and seemed to take a moment before deciding to sit in the chair, giving you your space.

"I'm glad you came," he said, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. Your eyes dropped to your shoes. Your dirty sneakers pressing into his expensive carpet and your frayed jeans... you couldn't even remember the last time they were washed.

"Yeah," you replied, voice sounding nothing like your own. You reached for your water and took a sip before carefully setting it down, fearful of even one drop landing on the rug or table. "I'm sorry. You were in a meeting, I would have waited."

"Fuck 'em," he said, and your eyes rose to find his. God, they looked so soft and kind, the way the sunlight hit them took your breath away. "Would rather talk to you than any of 'em," he added with a little smile.

"I got the painting," you told him. "It's beautiful, thank you," you added warmly, then frowned a bit when he excitedly stood to hurry behind his desk.

"That reminds me, I got somethin' else for you."

"Oh, Joel, please don't tell me it's more flowers," you begged, and he laughed lightly before bringing over a small black shopping bag. There was a designer label stamped on the side and you frowned.

"It ain't that - just open it," he insisted, handing you the bag before sitting back down on the edge of his seat.

Hesitantly, you peered inside, and what awaited you tore your heart in two.

"Joel..."

He smiled. He couldn't help himself.

"Was gonna leave it by your door or somethin' later," he said, his brown eyes sparkling as you lifted one of many pink seashells out of the bag to get a closer look.

"When did you -"

"Had to go back for a couple days and sign some paperwork," he explained. Your eyebrows pulled together and tears welled in your eyes as you stared down at the beautiful seashells he had collected, all for you.

"Thank you," you whispered, gingerly setting it back into the bag and placing it at your feet.

"You're welcome," he replied, his soft tone matching yours.

Alright. It was now or never.

You took a deep breath, rubbing your palms anxiously over the tops of your thighs, but before you could get a word out, he spoke again.

"I wanna tell you everythin'," he said. All the air left your lungs and you swallowed tightly. "I mean it. I'll tell you everythin', and not 'cause you want me to, 'cause I want to. I've been doin' alotta thinkin', and -"

"Joel," you interrupted. He scratched his eyebrow with his thumb and shook his head.

"Just hear me out."

"No, Joel, I need to tell you something," you said. He must have heard something change in your voice because he stopped talking. He searched your face for any indication of what was to come, but of course came up empty.

"Okay," he said slowly. He watched your fingers fidget nervously in your lap and suddenly you couldn't make eye contact with him anymore.

"I don't really know how to say this," you began.

Oh fuck, you've met someone else, was his first thought.

"I, uh," then you squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your lips into a tight line and panic seized his throat.

Something was wrong.

"It's okay," he said soothingly. He tried to inch forward but if he moved any more he would fall off the damn chair. "Go ahead, darlin'. What's goin' on?"

One single tear slid down your cheek and he swore he stopped breathing when you said the words I had a miscarriage.

"What?" he whispered, pain and confusion clouding his face.

You opened your eyes and forced yourself to look at him.

"I had a miscarriage and I just thought you had a right to know."

Your voice trembled and cracked as you forced the words out and he couldn't hold back any longer. He stood and rushed to your side, just like you always knew he would, just like you wanted. He enveloped you in his arms and pressed his lips against the top of your head. He rocked you back and forth, strong arms curled around your midsection, and you melted. You melted into him and didn't even try to fight it. For the past week, hell, for the past month, it was all you wanted.

"When?" he choked out. You circled your arms around him and your legs were suddenly pulled across his lap. He smelled so good, like that cologne you never could identify but was so distinctly him. You dragged in a deep breath, unaware of the tears streaming down your cheeks.

"About a week ago."

Joel's grip around you tightened.

"You shoulda called me, baby. I woulda been there."

"I know," you sniffled. You rubbed the back of your hand under your nose and tried to breathe deep. "I know. But I didn't know it even happened until I went to the doctor."

You told him the whole story. Told him how you thought it was a bad period, how Celine called your doctor, how she explained what likely happened and that it was your own stupid fucking fault for messing up your pill.

"It ain't your fault," he told you, his voice reverberating in his chest. You closed your eyes and leaned into him, fingers grappling at the fabric of his shirt.

"You're not mad?" you whimpered.

"Baby, please," he begged, "'Course I ain't mad. Don't go carryin' this 'round. Don't carry that guilt. If it was meant to be, it would be, alright?"

Your tears flowed, then, unstoppable as they barreled down your cheeks. Your sobs could probably be heard from the other side of the door but you didn't care. Joel continued to hold you, cradle you, and hum soothingly against the top of your head until your tears slowed and your breath grew ragged.

"Are you okay?" he asked after you quieted down. His hand was flat against your back, rubbing wide circles as you continued to cling to him.

"Yeah, I think so," you said truthfully. "I just didn't expect it and then with the hormone change, it all kind of hit me at once, you know?"

"Yeah," he answered, "yeah, I get it. Is there anythin' I can do? Anythin' you need?"

You shook your head, biting down hard on your lip so you didn't say I just need you.

It seemed as though maybe he read your mind, or maybe he really had been giving things alot of thought because the next thing he said was, "I wanna do this right."

You felt the next wave of tears coming so you burrowed further into him, pressing your face against his neck, breathing him in and letting him slowly put you back together with each comforting stroke of his hand.

"Lemme do this right, sweetheart, please. Tell me how to fix it."

You didn't have the answer. Your eyes were dry and burning from all the tears you had just spilled and you felt completely drained. Every muscle in your body felt weak and useless, the last thing you wanted to do was think.

You continued to sit in silence, the only sound coming from the gold mantle clock slowly ticking away the seconds and some very faint murmuring when groups of people would walk by Joel's office. You closed your eyes, encased in his warmth, and let your mind drift back to everything that went wrong, wondering how you would do things differently if you could go back in time. Then you remembered something Joel had said on the plane and your eyes snapped open.

"What if we started over?"

His thumb, which was drawing slow, comforting circles over your arm, paused.

"You'd - yeah," he agreed, sounding a little breathless, "yeah, I think that's a good idea."

You sat up, untangling yourself from him so you could sit properly on the couch. You pulled your legs from his lap and tucked them underneath you before sticking out your hand and reintroducing yourself with a shaky smile.

He gave you a little grin before taking your hand in his, eyes glistening when he said, "Joel Miller."

It was impossible to keep the smile from your face when you heard the buzzer, followed by Joel's deep voice letting you know he was there to pick you up for your date.

Your "first" date.

With a skip in your step, you trotted to the elevator, tapped your foot impatiently all the way down, and practically ran out into the lobby with excitement. You caught yourself at the last second, making sure you looked more collected and cool than you really felt before pushing open the front doors.

And there he stood, in all his glory, at the bottom of your building's stone steps. His hands were in the pockets of his expensive black suit, and he grinned when he saw you for the first time, a stark contrast from the last time you each stood in those spots.

"You look beautiful," he murmured when you got closer, eyes dropping appreciatively to take in the light blue floral dress you chose, then bent over to plant a kiss on your cheek. The way his scruff tickled your skin had a wave of goosebumps flashing over your arms, making you shiver.

"Thank you," you said, scooting into the backseat of his car when he held the door open for you.

"Hi, Richie."

"Hey, honey," he replied with a smile and wink in the review mirror.

Joel rounded the back of the car and slipped in beside you, then gave Richie a nod to start driving.

"Wait, where are we going?" you asked as you buckled your seatbelt.

"Got a reservation at this French restaurant that just opened up. Supposed to be impossible to get in but, well..." he smirked a little and shrugged, letting his sentence trail off.

"Uh, I was actually thinking of something else."

Joel gave you a curious look. "Like what?"

"Like... maybe getting pizza at Sal's and then catching the 9:45 showing of Shadow Strike?" you offered with a cheesy smile. Joel laughed, eyes crinkling as he tipped his head back. Seeing him so relaxed and happy was truly a sight to behold.

"Anythin' you want," he replied, then leaned forward. "Hear that, Richie?"

"Yes, sir."

Joel patted the headrest twice and sat back, brown eyes dancing when they found you again.

"Hole in the wall pizza joint and a movie theater? I'm gonna regret wearin' these shoes, ain't I?"

You looked down at the shiny, black leather and giggled.

"How much were they?"

"Seven hundred."

"Oh, yeah, you'll definitely regret it."

The floors at Sal's left little to be desired, for sure, but the pizza was undeniably the best in town. One bite had Joel forgetting all about the stained laminate flooring.

"Right?" you asked excitedly when his eyebrows raised in surprise.

He only nodded, his mouth full until he swallowed and said, "Didn't think there was any decent pizza out here. Reminds me of New York pizza," before taking another large bite.

You giggled and leaned across the high top table to grab the shaker of parmesan cheese.

"I'll have to take your word for it, I've never been."

"You've never been to New York?" he echoed incredulously, and you shook you head as you took another bite. Joel gave you a fake look of disappointment before saying, "I'll have to take you with me next time."

"Do you go often?" you asked, tucking away the idea of traveling again with Joel for later.

"Yeah, 'sides the hotel out here, New York's my biggest source of revenue."

"For now, right?" you countered. He grinned and wiped the corner of his mouth with a thin paper napkin.

"We're a long ways off from openin' in Fiji, but, yeah, that one's projected to make the most."

You nodded, both falling into a comfortable silence while you finished your food.

"Alright," Joel said after balling up his napkins and tossing them onto his greasy paper plate. "Where're you from?"

You laughed and felt your cheeks warm when you replied, "You already know that."

"It's our first date," he reminded you with an adorable smile. His forearms were crossed and resting on the tabletop. He leaned forward like he was sharing a secret, completely oblivious to the looks he was getting when other customers saw him in his sharp, black suit, completely out of place for the setting.

"Okay, I'll play," you decided, leaning forward to mimic his posture. "I'm from Tennessee."

"And what brought you all the way out here?"

You laughed and said, "College."

"You lose your accent or did you never have one?" he asked.

"Uh, I might've had a small accent when I first moved, but I'm afraid it's long gone now. Not like yours," you pointed out.

When you first met, Joel refused to share anything about himself. You were delighted to find out that had changed.

"Grew up in Texas. Whenever I feel it fadin', I know it's time to go back for a visit," he joked, watching your eyes light up when he freely shared something about himself.

"W-where in Texas?" you stammered. You were still unsure of how much he was willing to share, so you figured you would keep your questions to a minimum. But once again, he shocked you.

"Austin. Parents are still out there somewhere. Little brother, too, pretty sure."

"Oh," you replied softly. You grew nervous at the mention of his brother, remembering how the last time he was brought up didn't go so well, so you chose to leave the topic alone and instead focused on his parents.

"Are you close with your mom and dad?"

Joel shrugged, appearing calm on the outside but he could feel his heart pumping faster and his foot began to tap anxiously. If it weren't for the noisy, sticky floor giving him away, you may not have noticed, but you did.

He was nervous, but he was still trying.

You reached out to gently squeeze his arm, making him smile.

"We don't have to," you whispered. We can go slow, it's okay.

"Not as close as I used to be," he said, ignoring the out you gave and allowing the words to tumble out of him all at once. "Y'know how families are. Stupid fights 'n all that."

You nodded vigorously in agreement. "Same with me. Well, I never got along great with my parents. I was always looking for a reason to leave. I applied to schools as far away from home as possible, then me and my best friend both got into UC and it was a no brainer."

Joel looked relieved when you pulled the focus back onto yourself. His shoulders relaxed a bit and he leaned forward.

"The friend you were tellin' me 'bout?" he asked, letting you fill in the rest of the sentence. The one who called the doctor.

"Celine," you offered, "yeah. We've been friends forever."

On the way back to his car, you told him a story from when you and Celine were in high school. Back when you were underage and dumb and drank too much at a house party to impress a boy and you ended up vomiting into some boxwoods while Celine held your hair back.

"The neighbor boy?" Joel guessed.

"You remembered," you said, sounding impressed. He gave you a knowing look, lips pulling into half a smirk, like he were saying of course I remembered.

"Well, yeah. The very same," you confirmed with a deep breath. You fidgeted with the skirt of your dress, trying to hide the sudden wave of shyness that washed over you. Even though you had history, that night somehow really did feel like a first date.

Joel took your hand when you stepped out of the car and he led you into the movie theater, only letting you go when he needed both hands to pay for your tickets.

"I had my first kiss in a movie theater," Joel said as he stood in line beside you for popcorn. You tilted your head to look at him, excited once again he was sharing something personal about himself.

"What movie was it?"

"Indiana Jones," he replied without hesitation. Then you laughed when he added, "I was so nervous the whole time, barely saw a minute of it. Kept psychin' myself up to make a move and couldn't think 'bout anythin' else."

"I can't imagine you nervous," you teased, then right before the clerk called you up to the counter, you locked eyes.

"You make me nervous all the time."

You blinked, stunned by his sudden vulnerability, and then a second later he was at the counter ordering.

"C'mon, don't wanna miss the beginning," he said as he handed you your drink and motioned towards the theaters, completely unperturbed.

When you picked the movie, you figured a standard action flick would be pretty safe. You steered clear of anything romantic, not wanting to inadvertently draw parallels to your own relationship, and you even avoided horror because you had a tendency to cling to the person you're with out of fear. Yet somehow you still found yourself inching closer to him.

At first, you crossed your legs and your foot grazed his knee. Purely accidental. You even apologized and shifted a bit to create more space. But then you kept leaning on the armrest between you and your head tilted to rest between both seats. You wanted to blame it on the fact that he held the popcorn bucket, but he was kind enough to move it closer so you wouldn't have to reach so far.

Around the halfway point of the movie, his hand found your knee. If you recalled correctly, it was during one of the rare funny parts of the movie and you both had leaned forward to laugh. His hand grabbed you for support and just kind of... stayed there.

After that, you had trouble following the plot.

"Wait... who is he again?" you whispered. Joel's fingers flexed on your knee when he leaned over and you were eternally grateful the dark room hid how flustered it made you.

"The marine? He's the brother from earlier."

"Oh, right," you replied, and you must not have sounded very convincing because he gave you a look and you giggled, slapping your palm over your mouth when the people a couple rows ahead of you turned around.

Joel grinned and remained where he was instead of straightening back up.

A few more minutes went by. You pretended to watch the movie but he was too distracting, being that close. Your gaze kept drifting off the screen and down to his hand, then from his hand up to his face, admiring the way the light from the film played across his perfect side profile.

He felt your eyes on him and he turned his head, still smiling when he asked, "You alright?"

"Mhmm," you hummed with a vigorous nod. Then you found yourself leaning a little closer and his gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips, then back to your eyes again.

It wasn't your fault. He looked so ridiculous and handsome in his expensive suit eating buttery popcorn in an old movie theater. You simply couldn't help yourself. You both inched forward at the same time and gently pressed your lips together. At first, it was timid and sweet and sent a spark down your spine. It felt so nice to kiss him again after so long and after everything that happened, you easily lost yourself in him.

Too easily.

By the time the credits rolled and the dim lights slowly turned back on, you had both hands buried in his hair and his tongue halfway down your throat. When you realized that people could see you, you hurriedly pulled apart at the exact same time. Joel's hand, which had once been on your knee and had since traveled up the skirt of your dress, gave your thigh a little squeeze before begrudgingly untangling himself from you.

"Maybe we should go," you said, giving him a shy glance after fixing yourself up a bit.

"Yeah, just... gimme a minute," he replied, his eyes rolling to stare at the ceiling as he took a few deep, focused breaths. The theater was almost empty and you were about to ask what was wrong when you noticed the bulge in his pants. Heat flooded your face and you looked away to hide your laughter, but he caught you.

"Oh, you think it's funny?" he asked. He tried to sound serious but he couldn't keep the smile from his face.

"A little," you admitted when you looked back at him. He grinned and finally stood up with a groan, tugging his suit coat closed before reaching for your hand.

"I'll remember that," he warned as he led you down the steps and back out into the lobby.

Once you were settled in his car with Richie driving through the dark, quiet streets back towards your apartment, you turned to Joel and asked, "Better than Indiana Jones?"

"Oh, no contest, baby," he murmured with a sly smile.

You giggled and let his fingers thread through yours on top of the seat. Your cheeks ached from how much you laughed and smiled that night. Admittedly, you had your doubts you would be able to really start over after everything that happened, but things felt so different now. In large part, that had to do with Joel and how much he was trying. He pushed himself to open up to you a little bit, despite his uneasiness, and he had no problem agreeing to a normal first date at the last minute.

He was really trying, and he was doing it for you.

"I got it, Richie," Joel said when the car pulled up to your curb and the driver had moved to unbuckle his belt. He gave Joel a nod in the review mirror and stayed put as Joel swung his door open to step outside. Then his eyes shifted to yours and he smiled.

"Have a good night, honey."

"Thanks, Richie, you too," you said warmly just as Joel opened your door.

He held out his hand and you took it, steadying yourself to stand, and gave him a grateful smile right when he pushed the door shut. Wrapping your arms around the crook of his elbow, he led you up the steps to the front door of your building, only letting you go to search for your keys.

"Well, thank you," you said, sounding a little more breathless than you intended, but Joel seemed to like it because his brown eyes sparkled and his mouth twitched when he heard the desire laced in your voice. "I had a great time."

"Me, too," he murmured as he casually leaned against the doorframe, playfully cocking his head to the side as he sized you up and down. "Y'know, I've never seen your place," he said innocently, but when your jaw dropped in mock offense and you gave his shoulder a gentle push, he threw his head back and laughed.

"Excuse me, I don't put out on the first date," you joked, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

"No, 'course not. Was just pointin' out a fact, is all," Joel replied with a matching grin of his own.

"Oh, is that all?" you echoed, leaning forward and wrapping his tie around your fist, then giving it a gentle tug so he would meet you halfway.

"Yeah," he whispered right before your mouths found each other once again. You could still taste the salt and butter from the popcorn on his lips as he crowded you against the door, both his hands flying up to cup each side of your face, cradling it gently while his lips massaged yours. There was just something about him that always had you melting into a puddle at his feet, and that evening was no exception. You had to tear yourself away with a soft laugh before you broke your rule and invited him upstairs.

"Can we do this again?" he asked as you slid your key into the door. You pushed it open and stepped inside, turning back to face him.

"I would love that."

Joel grinned and promised he would call before you waved goodnight and disappeared into the lobby.

When your elevator opened up on your floor, you hurried to your apartment, exhausted but giddy with excitement at how perfect the date went. You flicked on your lights and locked your door before kicking your heels off and throwing your purse onto the couch, but not before digging out your phone to taken with you as you got changed and ready for bed.

You had just finished brushing your teeth, not ten minutes after he left, when your phone rang. Your heart fluttered in your chest when you saw his name, and you slipped between your bedsheets before answering.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

You could hear the road noise in the background when you asked, "Did you forget something?"

"Nope. Just said I would call."

You laughed and pulled your blankets up around your chin.

"I thought that meant maybe tomorrow."

"Miss you, didn't wanna wait," he answered immediately. You bit your lower lip and even though he couldn't see you, you pressed your palm over your cheeks when you felt them grow hot.

"I miss you, too," you whispered.

After a beat of silence where you were each smiling like fools for no one to see, he spoke again.

"What do you wanna do for our next date?"

"Hmm," you tapped your chin thoughtfully for a moment. "How about you pick the next one since I picked this one? We can take turns."

You heard his deep chuckle on the other end and you grinned.

"I like it. You're on."

You figured Joel would pick something a little fancier than you, but you weren't expecting him to propose a date to the opera for your fourth date. It was a far cry from the shitty little dive bar around the corner that had a really fun trivia night you dragged him to a few days before.

Joel! I don't have anything to wear to the opera!

I kept all your clothes. I'll have Liam drop off some things before EOD.

Before you even had a chance to process the fact Joel had kept everything from your trip to Fiji and what that could possibly mean, your phone pinged with another text.

Told you you should've kept them

You grinned and shook your head.

And I told *you* I don't have the room

When are you gonna let me see this tiny apartment of yours?

You glanced around your living room, the space was cozy but definitely not spacious. It was hard to even imagine Joel there. Would he even like it? He was definitely used to a very different lifestyle than you. You were nervously chewing your nail, lost in thought, when your phone pinged again.

Sorry, not trying to pressure you, that's not what I meant

Shit, you took too long to answer and had him second guessing himself.

I know lol I was just reading an email - sorry

It wasn't entirely untrue. Your laptop sat open on your coffee table, your email program sitting before you.

Any luck on the job front?

No... not yet. Fortunately I have a handsome benefactor paying my rent for the next two months ;)

Your handsome benefactor would really like it if you let him help you find a job, baby

You rolled your eyes and sighed before typing out, don't you have a company to run?

I can do two things at once

You laughed to yourself and leaned back into your couch, staring at your phone longingly.

Since your first date with Joel, you had spoken every single day, approximately two weeks. What surprised you the most was the constant stream of texts he sent you throughout the day. You saw how he was in Fiji, you knew he was busy and had meetings and calls around the clock. How on earth he managed to do both still astounded you.

Because he was really trying, a little voice in the back of your head piped up.

He really did seem like a completely different man from the one you first met. Traces of him were still there: he hadn't yet come clean about his daughter or brother, but every time you saw each other, he made a point of sharing something new about himself. He told you a handful of stories from when he was younger, living in Texas. He told you his brother was a contractor but that was the only thing you knew about him. And that was okay. You wanted him to tell you about himself on his own terms, without feeling pressured, and that was exactly what he was doing.

Well I need to shower and figure out what to do with my hair for tonight. Unfortunately my phone's not waterproof so I guess I'll just see you later?

Looking forward to it - I'll let you know when to expect Liam

Like he promised, Liam arrived around four in the afternoon with an armful of dresses draped over one arm and a bag of shoes in the other.

"Oh, god, here - lemme help you," you said when you saw how much he was carrying from the elevator. He shot you a relieved smile when you grabbed a few things from his arms and helped him inside your apartment. He took one quick glance around and said, "Cute," before laying the dresses out on your couch and unzipping the bags.

"Alright. I brought a few pieces I thought would work best. You're free to do whatever, of course, but I would recommend the Chanel dress with the Valentino shoes."

Your eyes darted around at the items suddenly taking up all of the space in your living room and tried not to look completely out of your depth, but he must have been able to tell because he snatched up both items and handed them to you.

"Oh, thanks," you told him. The Chanel dress was a slinky black number you never had a chance to wear on the island, and the shoes were strappy heels you thought you wore once to a dinner with Zoe.

"Have you seen La Traviata before?" Liam asked. You chuckled and shook your head.

"I've never even been to the opera before."

Liam smiled and clapped his hands together gleefully. "Oh, you'll have such a great time! This is a great one to see. Especially from the box. You'll be able to see everything and won't have to dodge horrible hairdos or top hats."

"B-box? Joel's got box seats?" you stammered. He laughed and began to open a small toiletry bag filled with jewelry.

"Of course he does."

Liam held up a few necklaces before settling on a thin chain of diamonds and setting it aside. He then dug out matching earrings and a bracelet while he asked, "What are you planning to do with your hair?"

You had washed and dried it but otherwise, you hadn't gotten further than that.

"Uh, just wear it down, I guess."

Liam straightened up and gave you a once over. "Want some help?"

Relief flooded your veins and you quickly nodded. "Do you mind?"

He smiled and shook his head before flapping his hands, ushering you towards your bathroom.

"Not at all. Let's see what you're working with."

"Jesus, you look beautiful," Joel murmured for the fourth time since he picked you up. He had one arm wrapped tightly around your middle, pulling you close to his side as you weaved through the lobby of the opera house. You owed it all to Liam. He was a lifesaver. He picked out your outfit and helped curl your hair where you couldn't reach it, keeping you distracted while he told you about his boyfriend's parents and their lavish home in Malibu.

"Thank you," you replied softly, looking him up and down in his sharp, black tuxedo before reminding him how good he looked, too.

"You wanna get a drink before it starts? We got 'bout ten minutes," he said, looking quickly at his watch before catching your eye.

"Uh, no, thanks. I'm good," you replied, looking past him to admire the ornate architecture. "Do you come to the opera often?"

"Not as much as I like," he told you while leading you towards a flight of carpeted stairs in the corner of the room. "Don't usually have many dates," he added with a little smirk. You smiled back, heart fluttering a little in your chest at how relaxed and happy he seemed.

He had been so good about opening up lately, you decided to test the waters and see how he would react.

"When was your last relationship?"

He faltered for just a quick moment when he reached out to pull back the red velvet curtain that led to your box seats, but he recovered nicely.

"You mean a real relationship?" he asked, and you nodded. He pulled out your chair and you swept the skirt of your dress underneath you before sitting down and thanking him.

"Well, that woulda been with Sarah's mom."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and you twisted in your seat to look at him. He was fixing his suit coat, looking down as his fingers nervously fidgeted with the buttons while he spoke.

"Was a long time ago. Sarah's fifteen now," he added, clearing his throat before locking eyes with you.

You swallowed and nodded before forcing yourself to reply, trying not to look too eager to hear more.

"That's a long time."

"Explains why I'm so rusty," he joked, cracking a little smile which you quickly reciprocated.

"You're not as rusty as you think," you teased. "I've been having a really great time the past couple weeks."

His smile softened and he instinctively found your hand, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles.

"Me, too," he murmured, dark eyes sparkling in the dim lighting from the chandeliers hanging over the auditorium.

His hand rarely left yours the entire three hours. The brief moments where the audience was expected to clap were the only exception, and then his hand immediately fell to yours once again. There was something so sweet and tender about the gesture, it made your chest squeeze and had you wishing you could curl into his side and wrap yourself around him.

What was wonderful was he didn't expect anything from you in these two short weeks, but then again, he never really did. Not in the way you were thinking, anyway. But that particular evening, you couldn't stop yourself from thinking about it. It might have been the heart-wrenchingly beautiful arias, or his thick fingers laced between yours, or how fucking good he looked in his tux, but whatever it was, it was driving you crazy. During the final hour of the performance, you were trying not to squirm in your seat too much and distract him because it truly was a beautiful opera, and you enjoyed it much more than you expected, but your close proximity and constant contact had your body reacting in ways that were not appropriate for the setting.

Even in the car on the way back to your apartment, you struggled to carry on a simple fucking conversation with him, allowing Joel to do most of the talking as he described his favorite parts while your eyes subtly darted between him and Richie, wishing more than ever that Joel would use that goddamn partition you knew the car had but he never seemed to utilize.

The three dates you've had before all ended the same way. Richie had figured out by now that Joel preferred to open your door himself, so he remained seated after giving you a quick good night over his shoulder while Joel slid out of the car to walk you up. He would kiss you, tell you what a fun time he had, maybe offer up a suggestion for your next date and probably give you a flirty little joke or comment before kissing you one last time with the promise to call.

This time, you only let him get to the first kiss before you whispered against his lips, "Do you want to come up and finally see my apartment?"

He pulled back like he had been electrocuted and you stifled a giggle at the serious look on his face. You could practically see the gears in his head turning as he tried to formulate a response.

"Or, you know, you could see it another time if you're tired," you added, hiding your smirk when you turned to unlock your front door.

"N-no, that's - y'sure?" he asked from over your shoulder. You pushed open the door and took one step inside before turning back around. Dragging your gaze up and down his body, you looked him dead in the eye when you said, "Absolutely."

Joel waved Richie off when you turned to drag him into your building, praying the ancient elevator wouldn't take forever like it normally did. You were in luck: it opened right away for once, and you quickly stepped inside before repeatedly jabbing the button for your floor. Joel chuckled behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist when the doors closed.

"That excited to show me your place, hm?" he murmured, his lips brushing over your bare shoulder. You leaned back into his chest, head lolling to the side and eyelids fluttering when his prickly mustache tickled your neck.

"Mhmm," you hummed, then bravely added, "especially my bedroom."

He groaned and gently bit at the skin behind your ear, teeth grazing over a tender spot, making you shudder.

"C'mon," you muttered once the doors slid open, grabbing his hand and hauling him down the hall towards your apartment. When you turned the corner, your eyes widened in surprise when you almost ran into your neighbor.

"Oh! Mrs. Adams! Hi... s-sorry," you stammered at the elderly woman wrapped in her robe with her tiny white dog cradled in her arms.

"Ma'am," Joel said with a friendly nod.

She said your name in greeting, then gave Joel a suspicious look over her shoulder before disappearing inside your abandoned elevator. You giggled and knocked your door open with your hip, pulling him inside and locking the door while flicking on your lights.

With one hand on your lower back, he looked around your meager apartment, standing in the middle of your living room slash kitchen in his tuxedo looking more out of place than you could have ever imagined, but it didn't bother you. Turned out, you liked seeing him in your space. You wanted to have memories of him sitting on your couch or eating at your table or taking a shower in your bathroom.

"I like it," he said, eyes still darting around to take in every little thing. Then he spotted some framed photographs on your entertainment center and he took a step forward.

"Can we look at those later?" you asked, tugging him back. He grinned and nodded before cupping your jaw and placing a tender kiss against your lips.

"You got somethin' else in mind?" he teased, but you just nodded earnestly and began to tug at his tie. He chuckled and watched you yank it from around his neck, dropping it on your floor before beginning to undo his buttons.

His hands fell to your sides, running up and down and plucking at the slinky fabric of your dress while you undid half the buttons of his crisp white shirt. Pleased to find he wasn't wearing an undershirt, you lunged forward and started to leave a trail of wet kisses leading from the center of his chest all the way up to the corner of his mouth.

"Missed you," he breathed, letting his eyes fall closed while you worked on sucking a bruise into his neck. Your fingers worked faster now, tugging the shirt from his dress pants and fumbling with the remaining buttons.

"Me, too," you whispered, lips still nipping at his skin, tongue darting out to press against his pulse. His shirt finally fell open and your nails lightly dragged down his chest when you added, "Need you. Please, Joel... kiss me."

You didn't need to ask twice.

His mouth collided with yours, all messy and urgent, and he began to walk you backwards towards the open door of your bedroom. He deftly worked the zipper on the back of your dress, pulling it down as he walked, mouth still seared across yours.

When you stepped through the threshold, your heels transitioning from hardwood to carpet, you blindly flung a hand out and flicked a light switch. In the corner of your room, a floor lamp turned on, casting you both in a soft glow when Joel finally pushed you down onto your bed.

His eyes, dark and filled with desire, dragged up and down your body while he unbuttoned his cuffs and shrugged off his shirt. Your dress was unzipped but still hung from your shoulders as you watched him slowly work his belt with bated breath.

"I like your room," he told you, tone casual like he wasn't taking off his pants and palming his cock through his boxers.

"Thanks," you laughed as you began to squirm out of your dress. He grinned and grabbed a heel in each hand before sliding them off and tossing them into a corner. "I can't imagine the kind of bedroom you have. Probably as big as the entire floor of this building."

"You'll have to come over and see," Joel said, eyes glued to your dress when it slid to the floor. He knelt on the edge of your mattress, old bed squeaking under his weight, then fell forward to hover above you.

He traced a finger along your jaw, mesmerized for a moment as he admired you up close. When he heard your breathing stutter under the scrutiny, his gaze flickered up to yours and he pinched your chin.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "For everythin'. For every time I pushed you away 'n every time I made you cry."

The sudden shift in mood stunned you for a second and he took the opportunity to press his lips firmly against yours, tethering you together for just a moment before pulling away.

"Thank you for givin' me another chance," he whispered, closing his eyes and nudging his nose gently against yours. "I won't fuck this up again, baby, I promise."

"You better fucking not," you sniffled, then wrapped your arms loosely around his neck to pull him into another deep kiss so he wouldn't see your eyes grow watery.

"There's my girl," he chuckled at your sass when he broke away to pepper kisses along your jaw. My girl. Hearing those words shot a bolt of arousal through you and your hips began to subtly rock upwards, seeking out some friction to soothe the ache between your legs.

"Want me to take care of you?" he murmured into your skin. "Want me to make you feel good, baby?"

"Yeah," you whined, hips bucking upwards to chase his hand that dropped between your thighs, fingers teasing at your seam through your soaked panties. Then he hooked the fabric to the side, his mouth finding yours right when he slid two thick fingers inside you, swallowing down your gasp and groaning at the sharp bite of pain from your nails digging into his shoulders.

"Shit," you whispered when he began to plunge them in and out, curling and flexing his fingers inside your wet walls, soaked from the arousal building since you first saw him in his tuxedo when he picked you up.

Joel hummed, relishing in the familiar feel around him and trying to hold himself back from pulling his hand out from between your legs so he could bury his cock deep inside you, instead.

But he refused to be selfish. He said he wanted to take care of you, and he meant it. He meant it in every imaginable way.

All he wanted was you.

"So beautiful, y'know that?" he mumbled, mouth dragging over your jaw, teeth lightly nipping at your chin. "So warm 'n perfect, missed havin' you like this," he continued, lips twitching when he saw your eyes squeeze shut and mouth fall open when his fingertips brushed against that spot that had you reduced to a mumbling mess underneath him.

Joel could sense he had you right on the edge. He heard it in the way your breath came in staggered gasps and could feel it in the way your legs began to quake. He picked up the pace, breath puffing hot and fast from his nose, eyes locked on your face, eager to watch you fall apart for him after what felt like an eternity without you.

Then his face broke out into a cocky grin when the heel of his palm started to slap against your clit with each snap of his wrist. The noises you made for him were like music to his ears, a symphony of his name and more and don't stop and a litany of curses.

"Gonna come for me, darlin'? Gonna come 'n let me fuck this perfect little pussy?" he growled while biting gently at your earlobe. You whined and tipped your head back, pushing deep into your pillow as the pleasure mounted low in your belly, burning bright when it finally spilled over with a pathetic hoarse whimper. Joel groaned when your nails dragged down unexpectedly hard, leaving angry red trails over the skin of his back. Marks he would catch in the mirror on Monday and grin proudly at his reflection after he stepped out of his shower.

"Fuck, Joel," you panted, eyes fluttering open to gaze up at him. You looked so beautiful like that. All fucked out, hair a mess, skin hot, lips swollen. He dove down and pulled your lower lip between his teeth, gently tugging before letting it go and slipping his tongue into your eager mouth. His fingers had slowed to a stop inside you, but he could still feel your cunt pulsing with the aftershocks of your orgasm. It was a feeling he was very familiar with. A feeling he craved and now that he had it again, feared he may go insane if he didn't feel it around his painfully hard cock very soon.

As if you read his mind, you dragged your mouth away from his to whisper in his ear, "Fuck me, Joel," and he swore the edges of his vision blurred from just your request alone.

A high pitched moan slipped past your lips when he pulled his fingers out from between your legs. You rolled your head to the side, the sudden emptiness causing you to writhe in discomfort, but you wouldn't have to wait very long.

He reached around to unhook your strapless bra and tossed it onto your floor, like he was mad at it for keeping you from him. Then he made short work of your underwear, which you looked relieved to finally be rid of, before pulling down his boxers and freeing his throbbing cock. He caught your gaze drop and your teeth sunk into your lower lip before sitting up.

"I wanna suck it," you announced, but when you began to lean down, he grabbed your shoulders and hauled you up.

"Not tonight," he told you, and you whined a little as you reached down to stroke him. He groaned and tipped his head back, hips thrusting into your fist on their own accord.

"Please," you pleaded, lips puckering around his adam's apple. And you almost got him. He could hardly resist when you begged, especially with the promise of your warm, soft mouth wrapped around his cock, but he knew he wouldn't last long if he let you.

"Lemme fuck you, baby," he murmured when he gave you a gentle push. You flopped back onto your bed with a playful scowl, tits bouncing a little from the impact when he suddenly reached down to the floor to grab his pants. He pulled out a little foil wrapper and you frowned.

"We don't have to-"

"Just bein' extra careful, alright?" he told you, cutting you off as he rolled the condom on.

"I have an implant now. It won't be a problem like last time," you insisted, but he already tossed the wrapper to the ground and fell onto his elbows, hovering above you.

"Humor me," he said with a little smirk right before his hips pushed your thighs apart, wasting no time lining himself up with your entrance.

Normally, he would go slow. Normally, he would take his time and feed you his cock inch by inch, but on that particular evening, he was too desperate. With one deep grunt and rough thrust, he sheathed himself inside you in one go, making your jaw drop and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"Sorry," he gasped, forehead falling to your shoulder. He squeezed his eyes shut, the sensation of your pussy gripping him so perfectly sending him reeling. "Sorry," he repeated as the both of you struggled for air, "I didn't mean, I - fuck -" his hips began to move just a little bit and he whimpered when your fingers drifted up to get tangled in his hair.

"It's okay, keep going," you encouraged him, taking a deep breath and forcing your muscles to relax.

"Don't wanna hurt you but, fuck baby, I want you so goddamn bad."

"I know, it's okay, it doesn't hurt," you told him truthfully. His mouth was open, pressed against your chest with his exhale fanning across your skin, making you shiver. You wrapped your legs around his waist and tilted your hips with a gasp. "God, you're so deep," you moaned, nails scraping his scalp when he began to move a little more steadily.

"I know, baby, I know," he murmured, voice sounding strained. It was all too much and, somehow, not enough. You clung to him when his hips began to snap against you, jostling your entire body with each earth-shattering thrust. His groans and your whimpers getting lost in each others mouths. Tears stung your eyes when he whispered, "Think 'bout you all the time. Never stop thinkin' 'bout you." And he growled when you admitted the same.

Your shitty little bed frame screamed underneath you the more desperate Joel became, no doubt grabbing the attention of Mrs. Adams across the hall. His hands never stopped moving. They cupped your breast, the back of your neck, your ass, and then his fingers hooked under your knee, pulling your leg to open up your hips.

Your eyes flew open and you cried out at the intense angle, his cock splitting you in two but his kiss put you right back together again. One of his hands fell to grab your hip, his other arm bracing himself next to your head and it felt utterly overwhelming, being completely consumed by him, that you wanted to do the same. You tugged at his hair, nipped at his throat, wrapped your other leg even tighter around his middle.

If he was going to destroy you, you wanted to give it right back.

He appeared to enjoy it. He groaned and his lips curled into a smile when you tried to take a piece of him. It made him slam his hips into your harder, had him plunging his tongue into your mouth with an urgency that sent your back arching off the bed, pressing your bare chest against his.

"You like that?" he mumbled into your mouth, lips barely leaving yours to speak. "You like when I fuck you like this?"

"So - good -" you moaned, each word bookended by a snap of his hips.

"You like gettin' me all worked up? Like drivin' me fuckin' crazy?"

"Yeah, actually, I do," you breathed, smirking at the sound of his words passing through gritted teeth. His chin dropped and his teeth grazed your nipple a little harsher than you expected and you yelped, which melted into a giggle when you felt him smile against your skin.

You pulled your lower lip between your teeth and, with your lips still curved into a smile, reached down to grab his ass, giving it a firm squeeze while making sure to add a little pinch from your nails. It made him grunt, his hips changing their pace. What was rough, strong thrusts of his hips now faltered to deep strokes which he made sure to drive upwards so he could reach that spot inside you he knew would have you screaming his name.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out, and he chuckled darkly against your throat. "Fuck! Joel... keep - going," you gasped. Your hands were back to clawing at his shoulders while he drove into you over and over. His forehead prickled with sweat and he could feel his curls beginning to stick to his skin but he refused to let up because you were so close. Your slick walls were clenching around him, making him see stars, while you repeatedly whined his name. He smirked to himself, pleased he got exactly what he wanted. Your voice was already hoarse and he could only imagine what it would sound like in the morning, all raw and thick with sleep.

"You gonna come f'me, baby?" he asked, voice deep and gravelly in your ear. You nodded, mouth still hung open in a silent scream. "Then do it. C'mon, wanna feel you," he coaxed. "Wanna feel your tight little pussy milk this cock. Go on, lemme have it."

The ball of tension growing hotter and brighter at the base of your spine finally broke. Your back arched up again and your head flew back into the pillows as your orgasm rolled through your entire body, his name reduced to just a mere whimper on your lips, unable to give anything else. Your muscles weakened and you collapsed back into the bedding, your brain in a fog. Meanwhile, Joel reared back and dragged your hips onto his lap, pounding steadily into your used cunt, all frantic and delirious in his movements until he slammed into you one final time with a deep, prolonged groan.

Your eyes slid closed, but his mouth was back on yours in an instant. Soft, tender kisses pressed shakily against your lips, silence filling the room except for the quiet sound of your combined heavy breathing and your bed springs occasionally squealing when Joel shifted his weight.

"You good?" he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours with a deep breath. You nodded then winced when he withdrew his softening cock from between your legs. He propped himself up on his elbows and gazed down at you, searching your face very seriously for a moment. You opened your mouth to ask but the words died in your throat. Instead, you let him study you. Your eyes landed on the little wrinkles developing next to his eyes, the cute pout he made when he was deep in thought, the way his hair stood like a halo after your fingers pulled and tugged, rearranging the product that was combed through.

He kept looking at you, something happening behind his eyes, something meaningful. But just when you thought you were on the cusp of something, he blinked and cleared his throat, pushing himself upright.

"Lemme go clean up real quick," he said, glancing out into the hallway.

"Okay," you said quietly, watching as he sauntered naked through your room and disappeared into the bathroom. You could hear the sink running, then a minute later, the toilet flushing, and you suddenly felt cold. You reached for your blankets and slid underneath, and right when your mind was about to get carried away with self-doubt and too many questions, the door flung open and he stepped out with a determined look.

"I almost married Sarah's mom."

You sat up in bed, clutching the sheets to your chest with wide eyes. He was standing in your doorway, still naked except the condom was gone. His fingers fidgeted nervously at his sides and the romantic side of you found it poetic that he was fully naked and about to reveal something so personal, but you couldn't focus much on that.

"Why didn't you?"

Joel blinked.

"I thought I loved her, but I think it was just 'cause she was havin' my baby," he began. "I was thirty, just startin' to make a name for myself, made a huge fuckin' mistake and, I dunno, felt like I had to do the right thing."

"Thirty," you repeated, and he nodded. "Didn't you say that was when you built The Parador?"

He nodded again and finally moved from his spot in the doorway to join you on the bed.

"I was naive. I met her at this networkin' event with a bunch of other guys in the hospitality industry. She was just at the bar, all alone, wasn't even part of the event or a worker or nothin'. Shoulda been my first clue, but I was young and stupid."

"What do you mean?"

He pulled the blankets over his waist and leaned up against your headboard.

"I didn't know it, but she was goin' fishin' that night."

You tilted your head to the side, confusion written all over your face.

"She was lookin' to sink her claws into someone with money. She knew everyone at that event was somebody, so she cast her line and reeled one in."

Slowly, you began to connect the dots.

"She... she was using you for your money?"

Joel swallowed and nodded, his eyes darting around your face nervously.

"Did - you said the pregnancy was a mistake-"

"I don't know if she planned it, but it sure as hell felt that way after I found everythin' out. She was expectin' me to propose, thought she'd be set for life if she had my kid. Heard her on the phone one night with a friend who was doin' the same thing to someone else. Same night I came home early to surprise her after we found out we were havin' a girl."

"Oh, my god," you whispered in disbelief.

"It was wrong, I know it, but I was so fuckin' hurt," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I kicked her out. I know it wasn't Sarah's fault and I tried, I really fuckin' tried, but every time I saw her-" he pressed his lips into a thin line and dropped his gaze to the sheets. "Just reminded me of everythin', and I couldn't handle it."

"So... you don't have a relationship with her? Or with Sarah?" you asked. He shook his head but he kept his eyes shamefully fixed on his hands.

Suddenly, everything made sense. Joel's concern with Glenn and his emphasis on family, Tammy's vague insinuation on the yacht, Joel's inability to trust you, his resistance to opening up. It was all because he was afraid of being used again.

The fact he had never been in love sounded more like he had never allowed himself to fall in love.

But he was trusting you now. Something that was clearly very difficult for him to do while he sat in fear of judgement.

You scooted forward on the bed and tucked yourself into his side. You wrapped your arms around his middle and rested your chin on his chest, curling yourself around him, trying to make him feel safe. His heart fluttered anxiously under his skin, you could feel it, but he slowly picked up his own arms and coiled them around you protectively.

"I'm sorry, Joel."

"What- what're you sorry for?"

"For everything you went through. I'm sorry she broke your heart. I'm sorry you suffered for so long with this burden. I'm sorry you felt like you couldn't tell me before, but I promise you, I'm not judging you."

"I know," he replied, kissing the top of your head. You took another deep breath before speaking again.

"And I'm not after you for your money. I can understand now why you -"

"Sweetheart, I know," he said, cutting you off.

You frowned and looked up at him. "You do?"

He grinned and nudged his nose gently against yours.

"Yeah. Probably the only goddamn sugar baby in the world who didn't want money, so... yeah. I know."

You giggled and pulled away from his grip so you could look him in the eye.

"I mean, it's kind of ironic... you seeking out a woman to pay to be with you? Why would you-"

"'Cause I woulda rather had all our cards on the table and know up front it was just a business deal," he explained. "Didn't need someone sneakin' 'round behind my back tryin' to take advantage of me. Rather know from jump."

You felt your chest tighten a little at that, and you couldn't stop yourself from leaning forward, giving him a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. He pulled you over to straddle his lap and wrapped his arms around your waist, gazing up at you with stars in his eyes.

"But you wanted everythin' else except my money," he murmured. You shifted your eyes to the left and began to play with a curl above his ear, suddenly growing shy under his scrutiny. But he kept going.

"Always had a feelin', but didn't wanna believe it. Couldn't believe it, I suppose," he added, watching your eyes carefully as you continued to focus on his hair. "You never cared 'bout doin' anythin' extravagant on the island. Wanted to spend time with me at the beach, wanted to get food from a stand at the corner with our goddamn faces painted," he chuckled. You grinned and felt your cheeks grow hot.

"Then you left those envelopes," he said, and your eyes finally found his again. He let a heavy moment pass between you as you stared down at him. "Never even opened 'em. Gave you that first one the first night we were there. And you didn't open it."

You shook your head and a slow smile stretched across his face.

"Then with the hell you gave me and the bank 'bout the payment after we got back," he groaned, tilting his face to the ceiling like he was in agony.

"Fifty thousand was too fucking much!" you practically shouted, but he just laughed and pulled you closer.

"You actually fuckin' like me," he said in wonder. "Why would someone like you want anythin' to do with someone like me?"

You threw your head back and laughed, immediately recognizing your own words being parroted back to you.

"Because," you replied once your laughter waned, "you're a good man, despite what you may think. You care and you're sweet and you make me feel safe. You make me feel good about myself. You pay attention to things that mean something to me. You - I -" you cut yourself off with a quick shake of your head. "Yeah... I actually fucking like you," you finished with a slow smile.

He grinned and cupped the back of your neck, but before pulling you down for a kiss, he whispered, "How'd I get so lucky?"

The next morning, you awoke to an empty bed. If it weren't for the incessant ache between your legs and the soreness of your throat, you would have wondered if it was all a dream. You reached for the other side of the bed and felt the sheets cool under your fingertips.

It was Saturday. You didn't think he would have worked that day, but then again, it was Joel, so maybe he did. But would he really leave without saying goodbye? After you were so raw and vulnerable with each other the night before?

That was when you heard it. Faint humming and music turned on low coming from your kitchen.

Oh, now this you had to see.

When you rolled out of bed, you almost reached for your pajamas, but then you spotted his shirt neatly draped over your desk chair and you couldn't resist. You picked it up and slid your arms through, rumpling the fabric underneath your chin and taking a deep breath. It still smelled just like him. A mixture of deodorant, soap, cologne and hair products. A unique scent that was quickly becoming a favorite of yours.

You stepped out of your bedroom and peered into your kitchen, a smile pulling at your lips when you saw him pouring coffee for you both, wearing only his boxers with the sweet sounds of 80s ballads filling the air. You crossed your arms and leaned against the wall, gaze slowly gliding over the strong, broad muscles of his back until he turned around and froze.

"Was gonna make you somethin' to eat and then I remembered... I don't know how to cook."

You burst out laughing and Joel grinned when he handed you your coffee.

"But you figured out the coffee machine," you said, taking a tentative sip and giving him an impressed look.

"That thing's a piece of shit, I'm buyin' you a new one," he scolded.

You dropped your jaw and frowned.

"No, you will not. It's not in its prime, sure, but it makes the best coffee."

Joel chuckled and wrapped the hand not holding his coffee around your ribs. Taking a step forward and dropping his chin had him towering over you seductively.

"Y'look real good in my clothes," he murmured, lips brushing against your forehead with a low hum.

"Couldn't help myself," you admitted softly, "smells just like you."

He pulled back a bit to give you half a smile. "You like smellin' like me?"

"Mhmm," you said under your breath, then nuzzled your nose into his bare chest and took a deep breath. "But now you smell like me."

Joel groaned and dipped his head lower, slotting his lips hungrily against yours. When his tongue slipped past your lips, you giggled and pulled away.

"I need some coffee first," you teased. He just smirked while his fingertips rubbed his bottom lip, like he were chasing the ghost of your kiss. His soft brown eyes were glimmering, so happy and content in your little living room slash kitchen. His cheeks were slightly pink and you weren't sure you'd ever seen him smile so much before.

While you sipped your coffee, you began to crack some eggs in a frying pan while simultaneously tossing some bread in the toaster. Meanwhile, Joel was nosing curiously around your apartment, inspecting little trinkets that he didn't have the chance to look at the night before.

"Snowglobe from Disney?" Joel asked, holding it up from across the room. You looked over your shoulder with a grin.

"My aunt and uncle are obsessed with Disney. They get me Disney themed shit every year for Christmas."

Joel hummed and placed it down gently on the windowsill before spotting a vase filled with sand and seashells. He smiled as he approached, too worried he would break it to pick it up when he asked, "When'd you steal sand?"

He heard you laugh and he turned back around.

"The day we were at the beach together. I had a ziploc for my sunscreen so, you know," you said with a shrug while you flipped the eggs. Joel gave the vase one more look, smiling to himself when he saw the new pink seashells scattered throughout.

"Where are you gonna hang the painting?" he asked when he saw it leaning up against the wall next to your television.

"I don't know yet. Maybe next to the door. Or maybe behind the couch," you answered, focusing on buttering the toast and turning off the gas before the eggs burned. You jumped when you suddenly felt his hands sliding around your waist.

"Supposed to go above the bed," he reminded you. Tilting your head to look at him over your shoulder, you grinned.

"You remember everything, don't you?"

"Sure do," he replied, giving your ass a playful smack before picking up both plates of food. "Where do you wanna eat?"

You both sunk into your old couch and balanced your plates on your knees, shoveling in forkfuls of food in between explaining the story behind every little thing that caught his eye.

Then he spotted your picture frames again. He leaned forward to put his empty plate on your coffee table and stood, his hulking, mostly-still-naked frame captivating you for a moment as he picked up a photo to study it.

"Your folks?" he asked, tilting the frame towards you. You squinted and nodded from the couch. "Any siblings?"

The question came out soft as he angled it back towards him.

"Nope. Just me. I've always wanted a sister but Celine was a pretty good substitute," you smiled as he picked up a photo of you and Celine on New Years Eve.

"'S'nice," he murmured thoughtfully, taking one last look at the photo before putting it back. He pretended to study a photo of you and your grandparents from your graduation when he added, "Probably best you got to pick. My brother's been a pain in the ass since I was old enough to ride a bike."

You perked up at the mention of his brother, folding your legs underneath you and setting your plate down next to his.

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm," he hummed, still staring down at the picture. "Always usin' my shit and breakin' it. Buttin' in with me 'n my friends to do somethin' stupid. Got me in trouble more times than I can count with our Mama," he mused. He finally set the picture down and turned to look at you. "Then he got older. The fuck ups got more serious. Bailin' him outta jail every other weekend. Got a DUI one summer and had me haulin' his ass all over town."

Your eyebrows raised in surprise but you remained silent, just nodding your head and giving him your full attention, too afraid to spook him with any questions just yet.

"Then we grew up. I moved out here, six months later he follows, 'course," he said, sounded exasperated when he plopped down on the couch next to you. "Got a job at a hotel, 'fore you know it he's beggin' me for a job. Got 'em one workin' as a dishwasher in the restaurant inside the hotel but he fucked that up before I could blink an eye."

Before he even finished the story, you could sense where it was going.

"Finally, he finds his own way. Gets in with a construction company. And he did pretty good, too. I had my thing goin' on at the hotel. Learnin' from the manager 'n all that. By the time I was ready to renovate my first hotel, Tommy'd ended up owning his own company. It was small, but, hell... it was the best he ever got."

You chewed your lower lip anxiously, watching as his eyes slid over to your dusty television, staring at it blankly before he continued.

"So, I hired him. Hired his company to renovate part of the hotel. He even cut me a deal. Thought for once he'd finally pulled his head outta his ass and made somethin' of himself."

Joel fell silent for a few minutes, lost in thought while his fingers fidgeted nervously in his lap.

"Then what happened?" you whispered, worried if you had spoken any louder, it would have snapped him out of it and he would clam back up.

"Then... his company went under. He wasn't doin' shit by the book. Got caught payin' guys under the table and fuckin' up his taxes. And he had to start over."

You connected the dots even before he said, "He came to me lookin' for a loan. Lookin' to fix all his goddamn mistakes, like nothin' ever changed. And... I said no."

"And he never forgave you," you guessed. His eyes found yours and he nodded.

"Yeah. Never forgave me. Said I was turnin' my back on blood. Said he woulda done the same for me. But I just had fuckin' enough. I worked hard to get what I had. So, I refused and he had to move back to Texas. Last I heard he got a loan from our Pop and started a business down there."

You sat in silence for a moment, letting his story sink in with the only noise coming from horns blaring on the street below and your next door neighbor shouting at her husband to wake up for work.

"So... that's the brother story, huh?" you finally said, the corner of your mouth lifting when he met your eye and nodded. You shrugged and scooted closer to him on the couch. "That's not so bad. I understand why you did what you did."

"Had the whole situation goin' on with Sarah's mom at the time, too, but 'course he had no idea. Felt like he never asked me much 'bout my life unless he needed somethin'," he said solemnly.

You snuggled in close and lifted his arm to drape over your shoulders.

"It's never too late, you know," you told him softly. His thumb began to trace invisible circles over your shoulder.

"For what?"

"To make peace. With both of them," you replied. "If you wanted to, anyway. And if you ask me, it sounds like you want to."

"Oh, yeah? And how d'you know that?" Joel teased, pinching your arm and making you giggle.

"Because," you said, tilting your chin to look at him. "If you didn't want to, you wouldn't care so much. You wouldn't have kept all this a secret and you wouldn't think you're a bad person. But what do I know?" you said with a sigh before resting your head against his chest. "I'm just the sugar baby."

Joel's loud laugh echoed throughout your tiny apartment. You grinned when he grabbed your waist and pulled you onto his lap to face him, dark eyes sparkling as he gazed up at you.

"You ain't a sugar baby, and you know it."

"Then what am I?"

He cupped the back of your neck and brought your lips down to meet his in a gentle kiss.

"You're the woman I'm fallin' in love with," he whispered, voice trembling a little. You locked eyes, the surprise and excitement coursing through your veins causing you to smile so wide that it hurt.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he replied with a smile of his own. "Real goddamn inconvenient," he added, making you giggle and press another kiss against his mouth.

"Told you," you said breathlessly. "But we can take things slow, seeing as you're a newbie and all." Joel scoffed and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

The dam had finally broke. All the secrets and lies were revealed. For better or worse, you both put your hearts in each others hands and trusted that the other would keep it safe.

As if reading your mind, Joel's hand dropped to your chest. He flattened his palm over your rapidly beating heart while you played with the curls on the nape of his neck.

"This is real," he stated softly, voice a little thicker than before. He had a look on his face like he couldn't believe it, and you smiled.

"Yeah, it's real."

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