#chunky notebook

[the-dream-of-a-common-language]

some pages from my notebook from september 2019 to august 2020

[blackholecreations]

CHUNKY NOTEBOOK

I've had a few art blocks lately, I do get those a lot, but not with this frequency...so, to get rid of it, I made a sketchbook with the whole purpose of it being that I have to go all out on it!

"Chunky notebook" page 3:

Deka

[nufflesdoodles]

Awee!! This is so cute!! Absolutely cooked with this one 💛

Did another page for my notebook :D

Leshy very heavily inspired by https://www.instagram.com/very_tired_child/ wonderful fanart!!

[swisslerr]

GOSHJH I FOUND THIS BRUSH AND NOW ITS MY FAV🙏🙏

His cerebro helmet

[the-cartman-that-is-silly]

☆CARTMAN CORE☆

[mostly-paper-kind]

I love using the rings system because it lets me stick things in without actually glueing anything onto pages, but also it doesn't work for me as a notebook.

[st4rbwrry]

𝒜𝑀 𝐼 𝐵𝒜𝐵𝒴?

✧｡˚ a shy nympho camgirl seeks a partner to help her film content on a dating app. soon, meeting up with a handsome man who's willing to do anything for the pretty girl he chats with.

𝒲𝒜𝑅𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢𝒮 𓇼 14k. pwp, lowercase intended, age gap ꒰ toji is 36, reader is 24 ꒱ submissive reader, pleasure!dom toji, bondage ꒰ belt ꒱, check ins, heavy praise, overstimulation, aftercare, unprotected, videography, oral ꒰ f + m ꒱ , squirting + kreaming, spanking, choking, hair pulling, mild degradation, intimacy on high, toji is intimidating, manhandling, masturbation, daddy kink srry not srry, pet names ꒰ baby, girl, pretty, sweetheart, angel ꒱ minors aren't welcomed! reblogs & comments are appreciated!

౨ৎ — ꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡�� 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 ꒱: this took me so long to finish y'all but im super proud of it. one of my favorite works so far so i hope y’all enjoy. ♡

you hold your notebook in your hands, a bright pink color with numerous doodles sketched onto its cover, your pen on the back of your ear as you slowly cross off a list of things you needed to buy while browsing on your laptop. your room is quiet aside from the soft sound of music playing from your stereo, beyoncé’s cowboy carter album playing from start to finish while you slumped into your soft pink duvet hiding beneath a white canopy slip. the air is crisp how you like, a fresh, chunky strawberry is chewed between teeth, and your skin is freshly scrubbed and moisturized, only covered in a matcha green two piece short and tank set. a laptop sits on your thighs as you cross your legs, twirling your left calf as you bury your back into your mountain of plushies.

this was frustrating. you never realized how hard this would be to find someone to fuck, let alone film content with. you’d made a profile on hinge a week prior to now, and most of the matches weren’t close to peaking your interest. most of the men seemed like creeps, some too old . . . giving very much grim reaper. and others, too young, freshly adults at that. you think you’ve made yourself appealing enough. cute profile with full faced pictures, personality traits, daily interests even . . . but it somehow didn’t attract those you truly wanted.

as your sticker covered macbook’s motherboard screamed for air, warm on your thighs and now sliding on your tummy the further you leaned back. . . you were growing tired. huffing and puffing from literal exhaustion. am i wasting my time? should i just go out and find people like in the movies? but this generation made it so hard to even physically connect anymore. what happened to people running into each other at a coffee shop, a book store, a park? sharing interests and going on dates. granted, what you were looking for was strictly work related. you wouldn’t dare stare a stranger in the eye you bumped into at the farmers market and ask, “hey, wanna fuck me for content?” it’d be tasteless. you have self respect. others may think differently considering your side quests to fund the unfathomable reality of adulthood on top of just being a girl.

“this fucking sucks,” you groan to yourself, thumb aching from how quickly you hit the big ‘x’ on the bottom left corner of your phone screen.

maybe it was time to call it a night. you had an early shift at the salon, about five clients to be exact, booking either re-twists, goddess braids, or a wig install. so you had to save your hand strength. sighing, you shut off your laptop and set it aside on your nightstand, disconnecting the music from your phone before getting up to cut off the light. your fluffy cat that laid on the edge of your bed shooting her head up in alarm, ready to follow at any adventure you pursued.

“relax, mommy’s not going anywhere,” you smile assuredly, knee dipping into the bed as you lean over to smooch her on her tiny head, pointy ears tickling your cheek as you watch her tail sway. “good night, sweet — oh, fuck! i forgot to feed you. i’m so sorry baby.”

the alert in your tone has the black cat stand in attention, cursing to yourself as you slip on your heart printed slippers and make your way towards the kitchen, your studio apartment being on one level making this task easier. you listen to her tiny paws thud on the floor after she jumps off the bed in a hurry, dashing in front of you, damn near tripping you.

“oh my god, you’re so extra,” you shake your head, but couldn’t help but laugh. she meows at you violently, as if you hadn’t fed her in two weeks. rolling your eyes, you reach for her bowl off the floor to clean before opening a fresh can of fancy feast, using one of her plastic spoons to arrange her dinner.

whilst she awaits, you can’t help but glare at the screen of your phone as it suddenly dings, forgetting to turn off your ringer. hovering over it to activate your face i.d, it immediately opens the hinge app, reloading the page to see a new match. the air you inhaled suddenly catches in your throat as you stare wide eyed at your screen, the man in your view is just what you’ve been waiting for.

“oh, holy fuck,” comprehension wasn’t on your radar seeming as you lost the ability of the cat food in your hand, dropping it to the floor and flinching from the mess your fur baby began chowing on. sucking your teeth, you mutter, “goddamit. no, no. stop it.”

flailing your hand gently to get her to stop, you snatch the can and dump the remainder in the deep oval ceramic bowl. you try to ignore the rapid pounding of your heartbeat, unsure why it went so astray. maybe it’s because you’ve never seen a man so fucking fine. deadly fine, foul almost. as if it was such a disrespect to all beings. she’d cleaned up her own mess, so you take the time to grab your phone and lean against the sink to observe this man further. he had matched with you, of course, otherwise you wouldn’t have been so depressed a few minutes ago . . . unless you were waiting for him to like you back.

toji. it’s his name. simple, nice. he only has about three pictures, one of them a huge black cane corso with a gorgeous silky coat. it made sense given the vibe he was giving. dark, intimidating, sexy. jet black hair, slender smoke gray eyes, sharp jaw and a fascinating scar on the side of his mouth. another thing you noticed was how big he was. most of the clothing he wears sticks to his skin like glue. molding the outline of his muscles, the thickness in his arms, the heaviness in his thighs, the brick trail of his abdomen.

a certain feeling burns in your chest, and between your legs as you scroll to see the last image. he’s sitting on a beach chair, thighs spread in black cargo pants, matching tee, a yuengling beer in his hand and a cross dangling around his neck as he takes a sip of his beverage with a hungry look into the camera. it’s cocky, possessive, dominant. the dark brows above his eyes lowered with attentiveness. his shirt is half risen above his abdomen, and you can easily see the dark trail of hair leading into his crotch. it’s full there, clear as day. so it’s easy to tell he carries something serious.

fuck. “fuck,” you feel yourself growing hot, blowing out a breath of air before making your way back to your comfy bed to stare at him more. what a fucking man. honestly, you’d never seen someone so of your standard. exactly your type. before messaging him, you check his profile a bit deeper to make sure you’re not mistaken of anything. find some flaws, though profiles only express so much.

thirty-six, that makes you moan. that’s a twelve year age difference. though that only makes him hotter. not too old, nor young. he’s a . . . gynecologist.

“so he’s good with pussy,” you giggle to yourself. he makes a decent amount of money. he’s into fitness, clearly. cars, politics, sports. seemed like a pretty laid back man to you.

without even realizing, he had already messaged you, your heart dropping to your toes at his first response.

toji

i’ve seen you before.

you blink, fingers typing quickly.

you

mhm, where?

he takes a moment to reply, so you fiddle with your necklace out of anxiousness, laying on your stomach and swaying your feet.

toji

sounds a little embarrassing, but an adult website.

you

sounds about right. does that bother you?

toji

i wouldn’t have matched with you if it had.

you

so you’re saying if i wasn’t a porn streamer you wouldn’t even look my way?

those three dots prolong longer than you wanted, only making you aware he didn’t know what to say.

toji

i matched with you because i find you attractive. whether you want me in that way or not is up to you. i want you.

he’s straightforward. you can’t help but bite the tip of your acrylic, smiling like a stupid teenager, kicking your feet in the air. the attraction being mutual boosting your ego.

“i want you, daddy,” you joke to yourself.

you

i’m assuming you’ve read my bio. i’m looking for someone to film content with! if you’re down for it, we can meet in person and talk about it! i’m not really looking for a relationship. . . right now at least. ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

toji

of course, sweetheart. i’m free saturday’s and sunday’s. you don’t seem that far from me. let’s grab italian. my treat.

there’s something blunt and grown about him, you can practically feel his intimidation radiating through your fingertips. he seems just like the kind of man you knew would fuck you stupid. scream his name until the walls bled. until you’re trembling, and the sheets are off the bed, and his sweat is on your back so arched to the point where it’s painfully delicious. biting your lip, you had nothing else to lose. you needed his help, he’s offering lunch, you only live once.

you

you had me at italian. saturday at 2?

toji

saturday at 2. see you then, darling.

              𓇼

the nostalgic scent of blue magic hair grease fills the air of the salon, your fingers working tirelessly to intricate detail into the woman’s scalp you worked on. your last client of the day in fact. you couldn’t wait to clock out and grab a bowl from chipotle, thinking about it your entire shift. fingers entwining artfully as braiding hair flicks from angle to angle, you finish up the final knotless braid with a hard working sigh. you tried to remain optimistic after she’d taken her seat, unfortunately arriving an hour late to her appointment. said she had ‘issues’ with her boyfriend, smelling like weed and partially slurring her words when she came in. but you could care less when you were on a time crunch.

you hated when people wouldn’t respect the clearly listed rules on your account. so, for that, she’d be paying a late fee. after you applied moose and rosemary oil to her scalp, she’d pay you through apple pay and be on her way. you thank her, and when she’s out the door, you instantly turn to your friend and roll your eyes.

“you��re too damn nice for doing her hair. i would’ve told her ass to kick rocks after showing up that damn late,” amethyst speaks, crosslegged and shaking her head as she digs her fork into her chinease platter, filled to the brim with shrimp fried rice and popcorn chicken. the smell alone makes your tummy growl. “did she even tip you?”

“not at all,” you brush off, not even wanting to think about it anymore. “still got my money at the end of the day.“

“hey, you’ve been off the whole day, everything alright?” amethyst proceeds to question, and your shoulders slump as you halt from sweeping up hair off the floor.

aside from tireless appointments, you couldn’t get toji out of your mind, super impatient, even anxious for saturday to come. it’s two days away until you finally meet him. you’ve texted here and there, shared a few updates on life or spoke of relating passions and wanting desires. you had told him your occupation outside of being a camgirl, and how dissatisfied with it you’ve become. this field wasn’t for you anymore. the passion for it is dying, the clients grow irritable, and you just wanted to breathe. you feel like you’ve been working your whole life. in conclusion, since fifteen. started from an early age dealing with responsibilities due to financial constraints within your family. your mother raised you on her own, along with four other children. and being cursed with the older daughter syndrome, you developed faster than you wanted to. barely having time to live your life until you moved out. even then, it’s been all about work. you needed an island getaway.

“this week just burnt me out. i’m just glad it’s almost over,” you reply, not having the energy for a full conversation. she was a sweet girl, albeit very nosey. you try to keep events in your life private, gossip to a minimum.

“awe, bookie,” she pouts. “what’s your plan for tomorrow? me and the girls were gonna check out that new club ‘sin.’”

shaking your head, you disagree. “now you know i’m not big on clubs. have an art piece to work on anyways before the weekend comes. so i’ll be busy.”

amethyst nods. “well, alright then. i guess i’ll just see you whenever you get booked again.”

you don’t know why that felt like a backhanded response. you’re only here three times out of the week, and most of those days you see about five to six clients. everyone else had a bigger following on social media, meaning more attention, more money. you believe because you aren’t so passionate for this major, your ability to promote and put effort only shows in your adult entertainment career. since it’s where most of your income comes from as of four months ago.

“guess i’ll see you.”

after packing your ballerina pink telfar bag with all of your tools, you wave goodbye to everyone before making your way to your white honda civic, interior a vast splash of pink matching the two-piece skims set you wore. shorts since the weather is about seventy-five degrees today. buckling yourself in, your only agenda is to head to chipotle and then home. ordering your delectable signature bowl of barbacoa, fajita veggies, guacamole, pico de gallo, corn, sour cream, cheese, lettuce, and refusing to eat the bowl without their vinaigrette and a side of chips.

it’s around 9pm when you’re finally cleaned off from a hot shower, curly hair pushed back from your face with a hello kitty headband as you finish your skincare, sitting at your vanity while scandal plays in the background. you’d already eaten your food about an hour ago, even taking a thirty minute nap to regenerate for this art piece you needed to finish. in total, you had about three jobs; hair stylist, camgirl, ceramicist. you had an etsy profile where people bought cute little things of yours you liked to sculpt. tea pots, coquette flower pots, plates, heart cake jewelry boxes . . you name it. you had a few orders for mini miffy trinkets you had to ship out by saturday.

saturday. the warmth in your gut swarms at the thought of seeing that man. quite frankly, you’ve been unable to relieve your mind of him. he’s like a poison, hard to get rid of, but desperate to stay bonded with you. and you wanted nothing more than to be buried in his embrace; small and fucked out. since he’s been busy with work, and so have you, there hasn’t been much time to even call and chat. then again, you wanted to wait to see him in person. to feel that magnetism stronger than it already was. two days away and you’re anxious to even hear a hello.

while patting your toner into your face, you gaze through your mirror to see a scene playing from your show where fitz and olivia fight before they fuck for the hundredth time. the way he grabs her, speaks to her, caresses her and worships her. it has you thinking of toji instantly. the burn for him aching more than normal. practically feeling his eyes on you the way he stared into the camera in that one photo, long fingers clasped around the glass bottle, craving for that lock around your throat. wondering how tight he’d make it. would you be able to breathe? would he kiss air into your mouth to help you? tell you it’s okay, to feel it all, to take it all, to cum on his dick till you're milking him dry?

your thighs squeeze together from your imagination, staring at your reflection . . . and it’s all in your eyes. deep arousal, and the harsh clench you currently held your moisturizer in, close to grinding in your seat to ease the buzz of your clit. there’s only one solution for this, and you might as well make money off it. standing to your feet, you think not a second more before retrieving your laptop from your closet, setting it on your vanity desk and logging into the domain of prettyfuckbunnies.com. it seemed to be the main site for growth, given your eight thousand dedicated subscribers. you check yourself in the mirror once more before going live, rolling your chair back a few inches so they could see your entire frame. dressed in nothing but a small red slip dress.

angelbwrry is live!

your subscribers were notified well before others, hundreds of them swarming the chat within seconds. you were a new favorite, a prized star of the platform. admiration from both women and men. people who tipped you just for being pretty. others here for the obvious. applying gloss to your lips, you stare intensely into the camera, the character you play going into affect.

“hi,” you mutter quietly, slowly titling your head to the side as you bite your lip and sink lower into your seat, back arching. “i’m so fucking horny, and i just need someone to watch me fuck myself.”

the black kuromi chair you sat in begins to sway as you gently swing yourself side to side, eyes trained on the chat to witness them praise you, some comments degrading off the rip that you chose to ignore, others demanding you get on with it. for the most part, you tend to be discreet with sharing much about yourself. technically, you weren’t hiding much, your face easily accessible and probably even less hard to track. you’d always pray that there wasn’t a psycho willing to go that far just to find you. role playing was your forte. writing ideas for new personas to please them. and you had fun doing it. you’d never do something you weren’t in to for the satisfaction of others. never took private calls, or meets ups for obvious reasons.

but, you had to talk about him.

“i met this guy i can’t get outta my head,” the softness in your tone making dicks go erect and clits beat, the chat asking questions and growing fond of your way of interaction. “well, maybe not met. we’ve texted, and i meet him in a few days. possibly someone you’ll see on the channel. and . . .”

the tenseness in toji’s neck bothers him as he groans and leans back into his office’s chair, fork in one hand as he chews on his salad from sweetgreen a coworker grabbed for him, reading through emails his secretary confirmed appointments of, needing to add it into his schedule to be aware of what he can fit between. needing to run a few errands this weekend. the white doctors coat clings to his body, one foot raised to rest on the front of his desk, manspreading and jaw shifting as he finishes his food tiredly, knowing he wouldn’t eat a thing once he got home.

“goodnight doctor fushiguro! get some rest tonight, yeah?” a body comes to view of his secretary; a woman with glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, a chunky face and beautiful red hair. she waves enthusiastically.

toji smiles, the older woman trying her best not to swoon. he’s young enough to be her son. “good night, miss thorn. thank you for today. you get home safe and enjoy your trip. i wanna hear all about it when you’re back.”

“you know you’re the first person i’m running to tell!” she chirps, toji chuckling. “i left my keys on the main desk. don’t forget or else you’ll have to break open the drawer for your patients files.”

“i’ll be sure to remember.”

twenty minutes pass and toji’s cutting off lights to his small facility and locking up. twirling the keys on his long finger, starting up the sleek black maserati ghibli gt sitting in the parking lot from his key. a black patent leather messenger bag hanging from his shoulder, doctors coat discarded and now attired in his usual black tee with matching slacks. setting it beside him in the passengers seat, he gets a ding! from his cellphone, resting his shoulders in his seat before checking what it was, perhaps it was miss thorn, she tends to leave things behind.

angelbwrry is going live!

toji raises a brow from the notification, checking the sapphire bulova watch on his wrist for the time. 9:54pm. why were you up so late? forgetting people have other schedules, he’s so used to being asleep around this time, much more having to be done today the only reason he was still in the office way past the hour it closed. part of him grows inquisitive, wondering if he should invade your privacy or what not. though, he’s not new to your escapades. he’s seen every inch of your body, memorizing it quite literally. he’s not ashamed to say you’ve gotten him off a few times these past months. he feels like he knows you on a deeper level now, so itching for that perverted behavior would be indecent to both of you. especially if he’s seeing you in two days . . . for a conversation about what you do and his potential participation.

nothing wrong with just watching, right?

as the engine to his car hums, toji finds himself in a devious act, clicking onto your feed and finding you displayed in your feminine bedroom. the videos on mute momentarily before he’s going full screen and turning his phone sideways. there you were, small and standing tall as the slip that barely clung to your body arose the more you moved. hips wide, thighs full, nipples taut and tits defying gravity. the strap on your right shoulder falls elegantly, your hair hoisted up by a claw clip and your brown skin radiating glow. the man openly groans from the sight, knowing you smelt so good.

“wait, i have an idea!” the cute tone of your voice blares through his phone, a smirk painting his stern features as he watches you scramble for something in your room, your slip riding up your ass. the hourglass shape of your body, to the pudge of your tummy . . he’s enamored.

he, and a thousand other people watch curiously as you lift the seven foot mirror that previously leaned against your closet door and position it on the floor at the edge of your bed. then, you’re digging into your bottom drawer for something else, toji catching a brief glance at the chat raving and thirsting from the view of your perky ass peaking out, a tiny birth mark under the left one. the cellulite in your legs that squish together from size, the stretch marks leading from beneath your ass cheeks down to the backs of your knees. so fucking soft.

“ta-da!” you wave the object in your hand courageously, an evil grin on your face as you show the crowd your confetti designed dildo, the brow on toji’s face raising. he almost wants to chuckle. you’re so silly, he thinks. watching you dance your way back towards the mirror where you hum a tune to yourself, swaying your ass in the air for dramatics before plunging your toy onto the center of the mirror so it sticks, watching it spring for attention.

“gonna pretend this is him, ‘till then. can’t wait any longer,” your hands slowly drift up your thighs to show your audience your bare pussy, hiding between those luscious thighs of yours. he wanted to suffocate his face there badly. what you say almost goes over his head. pretend who’s what?

toji ignores the flow of comments filling the chat, degrading you to some degree which he briefly clenches his jaw from, feeling somewhat protective. others praising you, acting like your cash pigs. pathetic, he thinks. he sees one comment in particular that makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

prinxxxspeach

aren’t you seeing him saturday? call him now to come help you girl!!

don’t fucking call me, angel. i’ll nut in my pants right now if i hear you say my name. he’s slightly amused that you spoke of him. is that why you went live so late? thinking about him? so pent up, and impatient, you had to just fuck it out your system? he’d fuck you a lot better than that lousy toy you had, that’s for sure.

you giggle from the comment, contacts still in your sockets so you can read what people are saying from afar.

“he can wait for me. he’s making me wait,” it’s like an old film camera flipping to the next scene, or maybe his mind had gone blank from your response because now, now you’re sinking your tiny pussy onto your toy after coating it with lube, the reflection of your cunt for all to see in the mirror. watching as this toy splits you apart, pretty folds swallowing it deep as you balance yourself on the tips of your toes. fully sitting and rolling your hips to adjust, your mouth falls wide and a whimper escapes.

“nng, s’so deep,” that voice of yours is going to get you in trouble. the broken moans you release as you lift your hips to grind and bounce, face falling forward to look at yourself, seeing someone other than yourself. your imagination begins to run wild, and you forget a cameras watching you, dainty fingers caressing the mirror before laying your palm flat, as if you’re choking him. biting your lip, you occupy your other hand by molding at your chest.

you uphold your balance well, clapping your ass down against the mirror now coated with your slick, pussy squelching ridiculously loud aside from your weak moans and desperate whimpers.

“fuuck,” your breath hikes, sounds broken and almost pleading, eyes rolling back as you collapse to your knees and lazily rock back on your idea of a dick. by this point, toji’s eyes are malicious, and his dick is hard in his slacks. shifting in his seat uncomfortably from what you’ve done.

“lemme see your face,” toji whispers in the air, the heat rushing to his cheeks. the things you do to him truly fascinating.

“g’na cuum, mmph daddy!” a high pitched squeal you let out stuns him, your hips shifting back and forth hurriedly. the flesh of your ass moving like water, and he’s in a trance. daddy? what the fuck are you doing to him? he wonders if you knew he was going to purposely join your live. already talking about him gave it away.

“c’mon, angel. show me,” the blood swells in his cock rapidly, tip damn near dripping with precum, unable to help but palm his heavy hand with it, humming and widening his legs.

“too-jii,” it’s faint the words you falter, a pathetic whimper followed by drool covered lips and a cute squeak. your body trembles from the depth of your orgasm, riding out your high and giggling cutely to yourself. to others, the words were inaudible. but to him, he knew exactly what the fuck you said.

the way you smile at yourself in the mirror, as if you’re looking at his fucked out face, you slowly upturn your head to bring it back to the livestream, a drunken, and dangerous grin on your face. never in his years of life had a woman made him gulp. to fear for what you’d do to him. how bad you’d break him, make him go fucking crazy. yearn for your pussy on his mouth.

you were fucking ethereal.

              𓇼

of-fucking-course you’d be running late. you were supposed to meet toji at two and it’s two thirty. the location of c’est moi exactly twenty five minutes away from where you lived. you were close to the downtown area, not fond of parking down there but you’d drive faster than an uber can. you made sure to make toji aware of your lateness so he’s not getting the idea that you stood him up. never. not after the other day. you don’t know what happened, but your mind took over your body and you couldn’t help yourself. you only pray he didn’t see it, not expecting him to. it’s embarrassing now that you think back on it.

you manage to make it out of the house twenty minutes after, throwing on a simple white pleated cami dress with a ruffled hem, ruched bust, and pairing of olive green sandals that had tea rose shaded orchids clipped onto the forefront. a teri cherry printed coach bag tight on your shoulder after you sped sixty miles per hour towards the restaurant, finding parking and hurriedly making your way inside.

“hi, reservations for fushiguro. i’m extremely late,” as you approach the host, you make out the sight of the man you were here to see outside instantly. sitting alone sipping a cup of coffee. his side profile all you can see, that deep scar carved into the side of his mouth, his veiny hands big as he clutches the mug . . and your throat clogs up.

he’s fucking . . . big. fuck being nervous before, this made you want to run and hide and never show your face. he’s practically hunching over the table, making it appear smaller than it actually is. his hair is midnight black, his broad shoulders and muscles suffocating the sleek gucci button up he wore, a few undone, eyes studying his cellphone, awaiting your call. one thing about being a doctor, he’s learned to be patient. understanding your alarm forgot to go off, or rather you slept through it . . seemingly growing to become impatient. he needed to see your face now.

“right this way.”

your feet follow blindly behind the hostess, trying your best not to trip over your own feet, heart beating drastically against your ribcage. your palms are sweaty, feeling the warm breeze of spring air hit your skin as the hostess leads you outside to the table where toji resides. he sees you before you see him, the sun beaming on your skin not nearly as hot as your cheeks suddenly became when finally making eye contact. your right hand picks at the ends of your dress anxiously, toji taking a stand to welcome you like a gentleman. it’s like slow fucking motion the closer you approach him, and when you’re inches apart, you can see the stillness on his face. he doesn’t smile, his face is almost unreadable. not sure if he’s upset with you for being late, or he’s just not one for emotions.

“hi,” the hairs on your skin stand from the deep baritone of his voice, visibly swallowing as you stare up at him, height difference making you dizzy.

“hi,” you blink like an innocent doe. he’s hovering over you and the waiter whom sets the menu down on the table, his chest almost touching you as he comes around to pull your chair out for you to sit, finally getting so close to the point where he could breathe in your sweet perfume, the peony and white musk scent has him forcing down a groan. he’s staring intently at your backside, dark hair going to the middle of your back in wild curls, a bit frizzy due to the humidity outside.

“can i get you anything to drink, miss?” the waiter addresses you, politely waiting for toji to move out the way.

why is your entire body on fire? no man has ever had this affect on you. his aura exudes something sinister, overtly masculine even. “u-um, yes please. can i just have a frozen sangria?”

“of course, i’ll be back with that while you decide on your meal.”

“thanks,” you smile sweetly, trying your very best to avoid complete eye contact. once the two of you are alone, you build up the courage to look at him again. he’s seated once more, leaning back into his chair with a left arm resting over the back of the chair with his legs comfortably spread. he liked to do that a lot. his eyes are low, head adjusted somewhat to the left as he observes you.

“good to finally see you,” he’s the first to speak, again. that fucking voice of his; raspy and dominant. how are you supposed to carry out a conversation without folding?

“y-yeah,” you clear your throat, sitting up straight after shyly clamping your hands between your legs and trying to hide like a porcupine. “i want to apologize again for running late. out of all days my phone decides to not ring my alarm. i rushed here as soon as possible. i hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

his lips began to rise into a soft smile, and that eases your nerves. no one would notice you’d rush to get ready. so naturally pretty with your face glowing from rose water and petroleum jelly, hair brushed out, lashes only curled with mascara, lips lined with black liner and smothered with gloss while your prescription glasses sit on the bridge of your nose. too cute.

“sweetheart, no need for the sorry’s. i understand.”

he’s not mad, thank fuck. “kay,” you smile back, tucking pieces of flown hair behind your ear. “did you order yet?”

“was waiting on you,” he replied. “though i kind of lost my appetite. i’m craving something . . . else. so, order anything you’d like.”

that was surely a double meaning. now, you’re not so sure if you had an appetite anymore. you couldn’t bare to eat in front of this man right now. when the waiter came back with your drink, you downed half of it, toji chuckling from your anxiousness. you needed the liquid courage before uttering another word towards the man who watched you with motive, intention. the intimidation brewing from his body is corrupting you. you order a simple caesar salad, nothing too fancy.

“oh! i printed out the document we have to go over.”

toji’s eyes trail to your hands that reach for your purse, acrylic nails painted a peony pink pulling out your notebook stuffed with an arrangement of papers as well as a pen. “guess we can call it like an nda, affidavit . . whatever. i’m sure you’re aware of the obvious on why. um, we can discuss boundaries within the bedroom . . . things we will or will not condone. a safe word is a must. if you don’t feel comfortable showing your face i’d blur it out, but given i do livestreams most of the time that’ll be impossible. so i’d suggest a mask, which i’m actually in to so if that’s something you’re willing to do . . “

toji nods as you continue to ramble, carefully analyzing everything you say, though, his mind begins to drift elsewhere. he still couldn’t get that damn livestream out of his mind. killing himself these past two days just thinking about how fucked out he needed you to be, buried deep and crying underneath him. the cute expressions on your face when you moaned his name so publicly, as if you dared him to see. how desperately you fucked yourself on that pathetic toy of yours from the very thought of him. your whines, the illicit way you stared at your reflection in the mirror beneath your sculpture of a body you rolled seductively. he shifts in his seat, attempting to conceal the stirring of hunger within him as you continue to talk. he doesn’t need a fucking contract. he’d fuck you good and wouldn’t tell a soul.

his expression is firm yet tinged with a hint of something different this time . . anticipation. “why do you film content?”

the unwavering intensity in his gaze causes you to cut your sentence short, mouth forming an ‘o’ as you ponder on his question. was he even listening? “wha—what do you mean?”

toji chuckles. “i mean, why do you film? is it your main source of income? do you enjoy submitting to hundreds of people? does it make you feel confident, make you feel good? why?”

that should’ve been something you prepared yourself to answer. most of the guys you filmed content with didn’t have personal answers to ask, nor did they care. they were simply there to have a good time and go about their lives. you came into this situation thinking that’s what toji wanted as well. now you’re getting a gut feeling it’s more than that. or maybe you’re just an over-thinker. the whole point of making an account on hinge was to find better people to connect with for work, but most of them never got the job done, and you were tired of faking an orgasm and boosting a man’s ego. something about this one though, you can feel that he’s willing to worship you.

“well, i actually have three jobs. hairstylist during the day, which i’m growing to lose passion for. i’m good with pottery so i make little things and sell them. and then as for filming content . . . it’s fast money. the economy is shit right now. minimum wage jobs aren’t cutting it. rent prices are horrifying. i want to fund a new life for myself. to travel more, and just be a girl.”

toji smiles, admiring you.

“bali has been on my mind as a place to reside. it’s always been a dream of mine to be somewhere tropical. less breathing in polluted air and eating foods they pump full of hormones. mexico and puerto rico are also on the list. i really need to dip my feet in some sand or something. i don’t know. it’s also kind of sexually liberating to be in my own bubble and enjoy myself in that way. i do it for no one but myself.”

toji sits up in his seat, taking a piece of ciabatta and smearing softened butter onto the breadpicked up a slice of bread and smeared some butter onto it. “i think that moving to a place like that is a good idea. there’s a lot of bullshit in the world that’s hard to run away from. if you feel like it’s what’s best for your mental and emotional being, then go for it. you seem like you’ve worked real hard your entire life. you deserve a break.”

the heat in your cheeks rise as he leans himself closer, guiding the bread to your lips, waiting for you to take a bite. you smile softly, sitting up a bit in your chair before taking a bite. toji watches intensely as you moan from the taste.

“isn’t it much better when it’s given by someone else?”

“yeah, it’s good. real good,” you swallow, licking your lips to rid the breadcrumbs, reaching for your glass of wine to take another sip. “i have most of my savings in tact, so my plan is to be out of here by next year.”

the unadulterated pull between the two of you threatens to consume him as he stares at you, his body almost painfully yearning for your touch, your taste, your everything. toji can no longer resist. he reaches out and gently cups your chin, his fingers gently yet firmly tilting your face up to meet his smoldering gaze when you dared to look away. “how ‘bout you take me with you.“

the entire scene switches, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, filled with a raw mixture of lust and vulnerability makes you fall shamelessly into his trance. you feel your heart patter against your chest, scanning his entire face with small indications of panic, and excitement. you’ve been dying for his touch all week. you pray he’s as good as he looks.

“what’s the catch?” you breathe inordinately.

toji smirks. “we get fake married or something and change our identities.”

you shake your head at his joke. “i need to see a ring first, mister.”

“mhm, you look like a marquise kinda girl,” he tongues his cheek, in deep thought. “go to bali. i pay, you enjoy life.”

pairs of lips are mere inches away, toji ghosting his softly amongst your own, yours parting to follow. you feel like you’re in space, the feeling extraterrestrial. surrounded by depths of nothingness with only the two of you existing.

“i. . no, i can’t let you do that,” you shake your head dismissively.

“you deserve it.”

“you don’t know me.”

“good. that’ll be the perfect occasion for us to spend more time together,” he concludes, softly pecking your lips to coax you into giving him what he needed. you’re stunned, unsure what to say, or to think. so, he doesn’t make you think.

“fuckin’ kiss me,” his voice drops to a husky whisper, filled with a raw mixture of desire and vulnerability, eyes flickering from the plumpness of your lips to your eyes. “can’t wait any fucking longer.”

the heat of his breath mingles with yours as his lips brush against your own in a hungry, fiery kiss. his mouth devours yours with an intensity that borders on primal, each movement filled with a desperate need to taste and consume everything you have to offer. his tongue slips past your parted lips, eagerly exploring the depths of your mouth as if seeking to memorize every inch of you.

you were drawn in fully now and you didn’t think you’d be able to pull away even if you wanted.

within the moment of your passionate kiss, as toji’s rough hand trailed to grasp your throat, your waiter begins to approach with your salad, eyes widening as he noticed how deeply, and somewhat aggressively your make out session was. practically swallowing each others faces. deciding to mind his business and turn the other way. he’d come back in a few minutes. toji breaks the kiss abruptly, his eyes gleaming with a hint of reluctance.

“damn this table,” he mutters, his gaze shifting towards the barrier separating the two of you. his breathing is ragged, body practically trembling with pent-up need. even so, he manages to pull himself together enough to maintain some semblance of composure.

he’s left you breathless, feeling something in your chest you’d never felt before, this attraction for him otherworldly. your lips are pouted, hands bawled into little fists levitating in front of your chest, as if you were begging for him to come back. when he begins to rise to his feet, you wonder where he’s going, eyes coming into immediate contact at the bulge growing tight in his jeans. you swallow, shifting your gaze up to the tall man that hovers over you possessively.

“go home, send me the address. i gotta handle a few business calls then i’ll be there at eleven.”

you hadn’t noticed the way your teeth sunk into your lower lip as you give him those damn puppy eyes, as if you’re so fascinated by him, almost scared of him to leave right now. toji grabs the pen resting between your little pink book, signing his signature on the indicated line on the bottom of the page for your gratification. after, he’s fishing for the brown leather wallet in his pocket to place down a hundred dollar bill on the table to cover the tab and the waiters tip. then, he leans down, lips gently brushing against your forehead in a tender kiss that sends a shiver down your spine. he lingers just a moment longer, as if reluctant to let go.

“see you later, angel.”

finally, and with that, he steps back, his eyes lingering on your form for a moment before he turns and walks away, the sound of his heavy footsteps echoes in your ears, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a lingering sense of anticipation for the evening to come. starstruck entirely.

𓇼

a rush of arousal burned within you like wildfire as you lay in your empty bed, yearning for the man who's been gone for only a few hours now. caressing your collarbone while chewing on your lip, your phone rests in your palm, excitement brewing for twenty minutes now ever since he texted you to let you know he was on the way. a black baby doll is adorned on your soft skin. ruffle lace details at the neckline and hem with a satin waistband tie at the back into a cute bow. matching mesh g-string panty, and floral patterns along the bust and hip area.

you took the time to curl your hair, reminding yourself to actually put your contacts in this time. also keeping makeup to a minimum with just mascara, a bit of blush, and some strawberry chapstick. skin moisturized in baby oil and spritzed with miss dior. . . waiting. the camera’s set up across from your bed, trying to distract yourself by engaging in conversation with your viewers. the comments were raging about how impatient they were to see something, but how did they think you felt? you could barely walk out of that restaurant without feeling your legs shake.

he intimidated you beyond measure, and god knows what he’s going to do to you when he gets here. it’s a fear and form of greed you’d never felt before.

“my fucking hands are shaking,” you giggle anxiously, smiling to yourself and shaking your hands before dramatically breathing out.

as you waited, you did little things to keep your buyers entertained, showing your ass every now and then as you cleaned your room like a cute maid. call it foreplay. sitting on your knees now become uncomfortable, so you aim for lowering to your tummy and stretching your arms ahead of you, ass raised up. as soon as you get comfortable, your head pops up from the sound of heavy footsteps surrounding the small area of your home. it’s him. you’d hope, leaving the door unlocked so it’d be easier for him to enter.

“oh, fuck—y’all,” the anxiety is even worse now, mentally preparing yourself with steady breaths and shoving your face into the bed to scream happily. the emotions are bipolar. “he’s coming up.”

toji steps closer to your slightly cracked open door, pushing it open wide to see you. his demeanor nothing short of serious when he gets a good look at you, hearing you yap at your camcorder with his hands stuffed into his jean pockets. he rests his right shoulder against the frame of the door, staring at you, admiring. his boots hit along the floor the closer he gets to you, and that cute ass you had perched up. the lights in your room are dimly lit, citrus candles spread around and led lights from your vanity illuminating the area. the vibe is nice, he likes it. like he likes you.

you continue to speak to your livestream and pretend he wasn’t there, trying to ignore your heartbeat picking up. the tension is in the air. you tried to steady your breathing as you continue to ramble about nonsense; animal crossing, sims you wanted to recreate and purposely wicked whim them. anything to distract yourself from the sparks shivering through your body. you prod the inside of your cheek trying to bite back a grin when you finally feel his hands on your hips, eyes watching the chat go wild from the brooding man behind you. what makes it all the more hot is that he hasn’t spoken a word, feeling like an intruder. stalking, waiting.

“so yeah, i’m thinking about dying my hair red. i feel like my face is kinda full to have a silk press so i’ll look . . off? maybe p-pin ‘urls,” a wave of pleasure shocks through you when you feel him press the outline of his dick against your cunt, dragging you back to air-fuck you once or twice. a few times. for the tease of it. his fingertips lightly flowing along the curves and contours of your body, your hips being the most sensitive. gasping and twitching from the feel, the thong you wore barely shielding how wet you were.

your breath became heavier, and you found it harder to continue speaking. you felt like moans would slip out of if you continued to react to his touch, the heat between you two rising. you were drawn fully into him. the reaction from him gave you a confidence boost, a slick smile showing on your face. while his body speaks of his own growing need, he remains a silent observer, his intense gaze watching as you maintain, or try, your playful conversation with the camera.

“i gotta admit something,” you smile into your hair that falls angelically around the frame of your face. his form, silhouetted behind you, takes on an ominous yet seductive presence. even though he remains hidden from view, his yearn is palpable, eyes locked on you as if he could consume you with a single glance.

“i fucked myself thinking of him,” a jolt of electricity runs down toji’s spine as he recollects the image. a low, involuntary groan escapes his throat as his grip on you tightens. “those of you who don’t remember. it was really, really good.”

that’s the final trigger. in seconds, a rough palm strikes the flesh of your ass, causing the cutest squeak to emit from you. toji’s wrapping his other fist around the softness of your hair and pulling you back to his hard chest. his cologne is strong, enrapturing even. your hand reaches beside you to catch his wrist in your grip, feeling the coldness of his expensive watch while he’s busy locking your jaw still and pressing his lips beneath your ear.

“really?” the tone is condescending, and as you nod frantically, pushing your ass back to feel him more, all you can hear is the unraveling of his belt. slowly removing it, the sound of the leather rubbing against the buckle and his pants. the anticipation fills you at an alarming pace. “i knew that, angel.”

how? wait, did he fucking watch the live you made that night? your legs nearly go weak at the possibility, sheer embarrassment consuming you. he wasn’t meant to see that. yeah, you told him about it. but him seeing that, then having lunch with you like nothing happened is crazy work. he noticed you’re frozen, chuckling darkly behind you.

“relax, doll. i can pretend i didn’t, ‘n you can show me all over again.”

he grabs your wrists, pining them behind your back with a rush of power fueling him, crossed hands sitting on your ass.

“this okay, baby?” he scans the side of your face for approval, using the smooth leather to bond them together. you hum, lips bitten and nodding obediently.

the look on your face in the camera is so worth the thousands of views from people who were just as desperate as he was to see you submit. your hands wriggle to touch him, laying your head on his shoulder and biting your lip as his teeth graze from your shoulder, to your collarbone, and your neck. your body’s completely on fire, and he makes it worse when he gently shoves you forward to fall on your face, back arched and ass high for his view, and theirs.

toji stared down at you as you remained there, fully surrendering yourself for the taking. his larger body leans over yours, fingers grabbing your chin to force your mouth to open. toji brushes his lips along yours, your desperate mouth sinking into him, feeling that same spark you felt earlier during lunch in your chest. he deepened the kiss to give you what you wanted, easily reading you, his tongue ravaging your mouth with his waist grinding into the shape of your ass. the kiss is so wet it has you mewling like a cat in heat, losing your breath.

“give me a safe word, hm?” toji sucks on his lower lip, the arousal in his eyes ruining you. a heavy hand rubs circles on your ass before hitting it again, another cute sound leaving that pretty mouth you had.

brushing your cheek along your bed set, dark curls dancing around your face and a pout on your lips, you whimper, “strawberry.”

“mhm,” your stomach flips when you felt his hand drift between your inner thigh, toji’s tongue skidding over your lips the same time his fingers apply pressure to your clit, rubbing in circles after he pulls your panties to the side, your babydoll resting pretty on top of the rolls on your back. your fists are balled tightly in your restraints, widening your mouth to suck on his tongue before giving him a deep kiss. the image on your face is pure dizziness. acting like your fucked dumb while barely being fucked. he couldn’t wait to see you crumble.

you squirm under his touch, breath growing short and shaky, toji maintaining eye contact with you dangerously. he’s big on it, and it makes you shy, yet brave enough to endure it.

“you hear yourself, girl?” toji hisses, pecking your lips hard, his fingers coated with your slick the more he rubbed. you whine, arching your ass even closer to his hand. “you’re so needy for me, it’s cute.”

it’s ridiculous that you can’t even speak, him turning you into nothing but a whiny, whimpering sub. “you’re desperate for my touch, for my tongue.” he whispered, his voice growing even rougher as his own need grew.

“mmm, yes. need it so bad,” you pout, mouth gaping after he spanks your clit lightly. “fuck, please eat it, baby.”

“i will good girl.”

he didn’t hesitate for another second, sliding behind you with one knee pressed into the bed and his big hands holding you still, spreading your cheeks further apart and cussing under his breath from how fucking cute your pussy was. fat, and glistening in your juices, clit hiding between your folds giving him something to search for. “g’na fuckin’ kill me, angel. pretty fuckin’ pussy you got.”

you scoot up as much as you can, hands still bound behind your back, wanting to cry from the inability to move, but loving that he had you at his mercy. his hair covers his eyes and he’s submerged into you, pressing his mouth to your pussy in a sweet kiss, like he’s knocking politely, before running his thick, long tongue over you slowly. a groan resounded devilishly, toji lapping at your dripping clit, tongue hot and your toes can do nothing but curl.

he’s slow and deliberate, enjoying the sounds and reactions he was getting out of you as you writhed and quivered under his ministrations. your pussy and his mouth makes up the loudest voice in the room, so fucking sweet and wet he’s salivating over you. spanking you, taking his time to devour you as he swallows your cunt whole, tongue gliding from your clit all the way to your hole. occasionally dipping his tongue into you to fuck you like that. your eyes cross, a broken cry making him lose it.

“keep bouncing that ass back, baby. fuck, fuck my face, angel,” he’s hitting you again, and you can’t take it, shifting your thighs to roll your ass back onto his gorgeous face. you’re panting like an animal, jaw dropping as he keeps his mouth on your clit, sucking it hard and groaning into your cunt, the vibrations traveling up your spine.

“oh . . god, oooh god,” the gasp in your throat became high pitched, toji licking you faster when he sees you giving your utmost effort. continuing his onslaught on your sensitive clit, swollen and satiating his taste buds. his fingers dug into your thighs, lowering himself completely to sit on his knees before you, rocking you back on his face as he eats it, unrelenting. sucking, licking, slurping, drowning his tongue inside of you . . . damn, it’s fucking good.

“c-cumming,” he can barely hear you as you stuff your face into the bed, toji’s head bouncing as you settle your feet on his shoulders and rock back on his face even quicker, groaning. “don’t stop, don’t s-stop, babyyy.”

“mhm hmm,” he’s moaning into your pussy, kissing and tonguing you down until you finally burst, your hands in their constraint balling into fists, getting the chance to latch onto his black hair once he pushes you flat on your stomach to bury his face completely between your ass and thighs. “let it out, baby.”

his chin glistened from your juices, toji groaning the rougher you tugged at his scalp, dick jumping in his jeans he needed to unravel soon. when you cum, you do this thing where you squeal and gasp at once, and he swears it’s the cutest thing he’s ever fucking heard. lifting his face, he licks his lips proudly, wiping his chin and patting your ass to watch it shake in his palm. you were a lovely display beneath him, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of ownership over you.

he reached down and traced a finger along the length of your trembling leg, his dominant presence still overwhelming. he brings his hand to the back of your neck which you arched into his touch, his eyes darkening at your silent plea. “you want more?”

“nn, yea,” a breathless giggle falls from you, toji dragging you to sit at your knees by the grip on your neck and around your chest with his forearm, back hitting his chest again, and your eyes come into contact with the camera, almost forgetting it was there.

“show them what i did to your pussy, angel. let them see how perfect you are,” toji whispers, tapping at your knees to help you sit on your behind.

“okay,” the words are small again, because that’s how he makes you feel. once you sit, you raise your knees to your chest, toji lifting your babydoll to show your soft tummy and the pink lights from your vanity mirror glowing on the angles and curves of your body. you look like the finest art.

it’s liberating seeing yourself like this, a sense of relief washing over you when he begins to unloose the belt, humming elatedly and arching into him, your periwinkle painted toes twinkling in the air playfully. toji laughs at you, your hand coming to your cunt to cover it out of fake shyness, rolling to lay on your side and giggling to yourself. you really did know how to play a role, or maybe you’re just naturally silly.

toji unfastened his button before drifting his zipper down, thick thighs spread and arms bulky as he kept them in fists into the bed, tilting his head in your direction as he sat beside you, body taking up half the bed. you sit on your knees next to him, your hands running across his stomach and lifting up his shirt, toji licking his lips when your nails delicately scratch at his hips. you moan when his hand comes into contact with your hair, your nails digging into the broadness of his thigh.

as he guided your head down, you could feel the heat coming off of his body. you could smell the unique scent of masculinity wafting off of him. the feeling of his fingers running through your hair sent tingles down your spine, his touch tender and affectionate despite his dominating demeanor. your chest fluttered when his thumb touched your lower lip, your breath stuttering and your body quivering, a heat rising in your core all over. you felt the need for him grow stronger, pulling your lip downward. he shifted his fingers and tilted your chin up further, exposing your throat and neck to him. then he leans over, his free hand coming up to cup the back of your head as his mouth latches onto your neck. pressing light kisses along the sensitive skin, his tongue grazing out and your skin pricks with fire.

“can’t stop tasting you,” he grunts, his lips and tongue on your throat licking hard, driving you insane with need. his hand holding the back of your neck in a possessive manner, keeping you in place as his mouth explored your sensitive skin.

“toji. .” your voice is weak, feeling your inner thighs drown in a puddle of your arousal. “wanna suck it.”

“i’m sorry, what was that?” he hums.

“don’t tease,” you roll your eyes and pout.

“mhm,” he lets out a little grunt as his eyes rake over you, his breath catching slightly as he stares at you. he runs his hand down to your waist, gripping fervently. “so pretty,” he murmurs.

“thank you,” you whisper, feeling a strong rush of affection for him. “you’re so handsome,” you say, your voice low and tender.

“g’na give it a good kiss, baby? real good?” he hisses, your hand pulling at his jeans to sit lower on his sharp hips, letting his dick free and watching it with a watered mouth as it sat against his tummy. heavy, thick, two veins protruding on either side. you fucking knew he was big. bless your intuition.

“yes, want it,” you plead.

a low growl escaped his throat. “show me you want it then,” he purrs, his eyes growing darker with desire and his grip on your hip tightening.

the salivation in your mouth gave you just what you needed to do the job, widening your mouth to accommodate his size, drooling over his dick as you pull him in as deep as you could to start. half of him enclosed by the warmth of your mouth and instantly toji moans from the feel, your cheek sucking in while you guide your head up and down, keeping your hands to yourself, one on his thigh for balance. your eyes are closed to focus, humming and dragging your mouth slow to make him feel it all. toji catches himself knocking his head back, pulling the sheets between his fingertips and scrunching his brows together, stomach caving in.

he can hear you slurp and suck at him needily, moaning around him and riding the air with your ass, spit gliding down to the base of his dick as your tongue sticks out to drag along the under of his shaft, bobbing your head and licking at him. something about giving him head in specific felt intoxicating. maybe it’s the sounds he makes; guttural yet whiny. the desperation begs to tug at his throat, shifting his hips blindly and cussing under his breath. eventually, his fingers find their way back to your scalp, toji sitting up and entangling both hands into your hair, face curated in pleasure with eyes wired shut and a gaped jaw.

“shit, ꒰♡꒱. that’s fuckin’ good, doll,” toji grunts, your moans around him encompassing him to briefly detangle a hand to spank against your ass in clear indulgence. “damn.”

your hand couldn’t help but travel to touch him, wrapping your hand around the base of his dick to stroke your hand according to the pace your mouth drags. that gravitational wave in his abdomen hit, a deep ‘your suckin’ it so good’ fleeing from his mouth followed by another harsh spank and a steady tug at your scalp to push you down only enough to follow your rhythm. when he hits the back of your throat, you force yourself to hold him there for a few seconds, purposely constricting your throat to hear him moan for you again, and again. his sounds addicting.

toji chuckles from how good you’re doing, raising your head to breathe before swallowing only the tip while stroking the remainder, your salvia being enough lubricant to quickly move your wrist. twisting and tugging while keeping it mostly on the head of his cock, the sensitive spot your toy to play with as you give teasing kitty licks, two hands covering him now.

picking your head up momentarily, you stare into his eyes with your siren ones, low and dangerous. pulling at his dick while you bite your lips before kissing him, mewling when he shoves his tongue into your mouth, pulling your body closer by your ass, the other grabbing the side of your face he practically swallowed into his own. the kiss is feverish, something straight out of a movie. he’s highly infatuated with you, tasting himself off of you with the mixture of yourself. toji sucks on your lower lip, and you find yourself positioning your thigh over his to sit and grind on his leg. you had enough of the foreplay, you needed him to fuck you.

“fuck me,” a whimper escapes, pressing your body down harder onto him, hand still stroking at him, that fucking voice of yours driving him mad. he doesn’t think he’ll last if you keep it up. “toji. . . toji.”

“stop begging,” he shuts it down quickly, the sound of his boots hitting the floor as he kicks them off exciting you. of course you couldn’t hide the smile, feening innocence as you pet at his jeans to help him remove them.

he's only in his black shirt now, your eyes following how his muscles swallowed the material, showcasing every sharp cut of his upper body. he made you dizzy, truly. that slit on the side of his mouth curving with his mouth as he smirks at you for getting lost in your cute little dream land.

“focus, love,” toji reels you back in, his hand on your lower back to arch your chest into his, dragging you to straddle him. if he could see the blush on your face he’d see that you were red as a tomato, his dick sitting right beneath you and you can’t help but shudder. “need you to lift your hips, help daddy out.”

“kay,” you nod like a damn bobble head, laying your hands on his shoulders and balancing yourself on your tippy toes, wrapping your arms around his neck for extra security. toji’s large arm his thrown around your waist to keep you locked to him, both of your body heat scorching.

he catches a hold of his dick, pumping it twice before he’s rubbing the fat tip against your drenched opening, collecting your flow before a soft gasp emits past your lips when you feel him gently enter, sinking you down carefully, little by little. the sensation from the stretch is . . like a fantasy. your foreheads are touching, breaths mingling as he removes his hand to balance the two of you on the bed, leaning back somewhat for your comfortability.

when you think he’s fully apart of you, that thought is knocked down the minute he utters, “c‘mon, girl. you gotta lot more to take.”

“oh my god,” the shock is out of, well, shock. he feels really good already, it’s gonna be hell if you handle any more. embedding your nails into his clothing, chin resting between the crook of his neck while you ground your ass back to make it easier for him to slip completely in. the two of you groan in sync, toji’s arm tightening around your waist from how tight you felt.

the more you rock, slow, steady, it fucks the both of you up. holding tightly onto one another while toji lets you take your time, the heavy breathing and hearts beating rapidly is fucking poetic. one might call this act making love. once you drop your ass entirely, that pressure in your sweet spot causes you to scream out softly, losing balance and sitting on your knees, holding onto him with an unexpected whine.

“shit, baby, you alright?” he’s immediately checking in on you, bringing you up and make eye contact, hands holding either side of your face and scanning for signs. pushing away the fact that you’re convulsing around his dick and trying his best not to fuck you hard. yet, at least.

again, you can’t even speak. your mouth is wide open, nodding and breathing heavily, shifting your hips and grind onto him, flexing your ass when you arch your back deeper before lifting halfway and slamming yourself down. toji chokes, face copying yours as he grips onto the sheets and places his arm back around you, helping you lift yourself.

“you feel . . really good, baby. stuffing me full,” you moan, toji grunting and yanking you up and down faster, losing his patience now. it blew out the fucking window the minute he slipped inside you. he fixates on the sound of your pussy sliding and swallowing his dick, the slick making his tongue water for the taste all over. you’re so fucking sweet it’s insane.

“yeah?” he lets out a low, guttural groan and grips your hips even harder, his breaths coming out in deep gasps. “fuck me like you fucked that toy, thinking of me.”

that makes you smile, that insecurity of him seeing that video earlier disappearing as you take both of your small hands and wrap them around his throat, using your weight to push his body so he falls onto his back, his hands cupping the curves under your ass cheeks. toji usually isn’t one for submission, but he’s been thinking for a while about trying new shit, and a pretty girl like you choking and fucking him was only the start. you see the look in his eyes, and you feel heat sweltering inside of you even more, relishing the fact that you are the one in control, applying more pressure to his neck, loving the way his breath hitches.

“you want me to fuck you just like that?” you lick your lips and grind teasingly, the dangerous swirl of your hips making his head sink further into the bed.

“want you to fuck me like that, angel. gimme a show.”

and you won’t deny his wish. positioning yourself back on the tips of your toes, his hands are smoothing underneath your thighs, clutching on either sides as you with his eyes going dark, his hips bucking. he can barely string a thought together, his mind completely consumed by the sensations you’re sending through him. your pussy takes it all while you pounce your body above him, rolling your waist each time you dip your ass down and meet his thighs.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts, his voice thick with pleasure, eyes never leaving yours before his voice rasps out, “keep going. fuck me for real. like you want it. it’s yours.”

you let out a strangled gasp, body jerking and mind almost slipping away, the pleasure he’s giving you overwhelming and consuming you completely. his hands on your body clench harder, the warmth from his body on yours killing you.

“just like that,” his hands move at their own possession now, slamming down on your ass repeatedly to bruise your skin, the hits vibrating straight to your clit and it’s making you drunk. your eyes scroll back into your skull, his appraisal driving you to work for it faster.

“t-toji, i’m so wet for you,” you gasp in shock from the slickness between you two. “look what you did to me. you slide in and out so easily.”

“f-fuck, doll. you’re killing me talkin’ like that,” he lets out a strangled gasp at your words, voice ragged and eyes filled with need. “you like it that much, baby?”

“y-yes!” a squeal sounds from you, bouncing heavier than before, your voice getting caught in your throat from the impact. you clutch any part of his skin you can grab, losing yourself in the way he fills you. ���i love your dick, baby. makes me feel prettier.”

hazy eyes filled with pleasure admire your features, fucked out already when he still has so much he wanted to do to you. give you what you deserve. a smirk tugs at his lips, sitting up and leaning in close, missing the skin contact. his voice low and rough as he says, “you look prettier when you’re sitting on my dick.”

“yeah,” you drunkenly nod. “s’mine.”

toji raises a brow with amusement. “it can be yours. when you cum on it real hard.”

wanting him even closer to you, you keep only one hand around his neck, placing the other on his forearm and pressing your chest to his entirely as you gyrate your hips and tease his neck, hovering over his skin with your mouth and teeth before you leave little love-bites on his skin. toji guides your hips in a circular motion, the simple switch up making you gasp and whine into his ear, hitting that spot repeatedly.

“god, baby,” you feel his guidance, his grip on your hips firm as he moves you. you ride against him, the friction on your clit making you whimper weakly, his deep voice in your ear making your body shake, feeling another orgasm develop. “i love it. s’fucking me so good.”

“see you movin’ just like you did for me on that mirror,” he wraps his hand around your neck, squeezing firmly. your eyes lock, yours clouded by arousal, his with an agenda. “fuckin’ yourself like that . . ima fuck you real bad for that,” toji hissed, swiping his tongue across his lower lip before aggressively smacking your ass. “i feel that fuckin’ pussy squeezing me tighter. if you’re g’na cum then do it on me. gush all on it.”

the more your body reacts to his praise, and sprinkles of degradation, the faster your orgasm approaches you, washing over you hard as your body spasmes from the intensity of it. your teeth sink into his shoulder as you scream, riding out your high, squeezing hard on his arms. toji kisses your temple, keeping you close as he falls back and lays on his side while turning you to face your camera you’d both forgotten about, still did.

“you did so well,” the kisses continue around your face while your brains on autopilot, his hand clasping around your neck as he presses his hot chest against your back. his kisses are so aggressive it makes you feel small and wanting to obey. you jump when he spanks you, moaning weakly into your shoulder with your arms halfway hanging off the bed.

toji goes lift your right leg to adjust himself behind you, dick achingly hard and covered in your juices, slipping back inside of you fully before angling your knee towards your tummy, keeping a hand locked under the bend of your knee, your skin smooth to the touch. you smell good too. everything about you besotted him. your hand touches his face, tugging it closer to the point where his nose smushed against your cheek, dark hair clouding your eyesight as his big frame overtakes yours.

“you’re gonna kill me,” you whisper, eyes focused on each other, a giggle creeping up.

“not you,” he whispered back, rolling his waist back and forth, grinding deeper into you. the plush of your ass molding against his sharp hips. his lips brush on your neck as he kisses and nibbles at your sensitive skin. your hands roam over your body, touching and exploring every inch of yourself as his lips trail down your collarbone, darkly watching as your hand presses on your clit. “her.”

as he possessively holds you in place, he’s prepared you enough before he’s fucking you hard, knocking the wind from your throat completely. a hard gasp falls past your lips as toji slams his hips against your ass, knitting his brows together, squeezing his eyes shut while his mouth falls open. the utter silence both of your voices held at the moment was more powerful than the rough interaction of your skin. your eyes a ghost white as he pounds his dick into you hard. when a noise is made, it’s from equal parts, syncing your eager moans.

“ooh, fuck baby. you’re taking it,” he huskily whispers into your ear, his words punctuated by the way he continues to move into you. “sucking me so deep. m’not going nowhere.”

“to-ji,” his name is broken down by the harsh pounds he fucks you with, whining and moaning in his entrapment. your vision gone. “i love the way you fuck me. you fuck me so good.”

he fucks like he’s not letting up, his body pushing you deeper into the mattress, the grip around your neck remains tight, the feeling of his ownership only growing more intense. his body is hovering over yours now, digging deep as he can to fuck you real good, to make himself feel it all. your body remains to the side, only half twisted as he drops your leg and pushes his weight into you so your stomach is close to grazing the bed.

“s’too much, fuck . . i, i—” the words are caught in your throat from the overstimulation. breathing heavy, tears begin to fill your sockets, whining his name loudly in his face like you’d lost your mind for good this time. this pleasure was something you hadn’t felt in a long time. it’s everything you needed and more.

toji shushes you, kissing your nose as he grips your face, big hand almost covering it whole. “you like when daddy takes control? you like when he tells you what to do?”

toji will admit, you’ve got him fucking spent. it’s been a long time since he’s had a woman submit and cry under him, and you do all those things well. the gorgeous image on your face, to the salacious movement of your body. the softness of your skin and the equal relation of your voice. capturing and captivating him. you’d think he was on drugs the way he was talking. high off his ass from your pussy. his lips gently brush over your ear. your eyes flutter, his voice attacking your clit, and you swear it makes it gush even more, soaking the sheets underneath your ass. “when he makes you his? you like being my good girl, pretty?”

he knows you can’t speak anymore, but you’re still interactive with your body language. the slur of your nonexistent words to the way you try to roll your ass back to fuck him back . . but he’s got you trapped. even the tears falling down your face from overwhelming pleasure. he knows you’re okay, asking for a safe word prior for your protection. you’re a big girl, he knows you can handle it.

“nnng,” you can’t stop trembling, gasping for air and sobbing in his face. toji places his forehead on yours, looking into your eyes and nodding, cooing. you are fucked dumbed. toji hisses, hitting your ass and pausing momentarily to look between where you two collide, an ‘oh my god’ faltering out. he’s as gone as you are.

“you so fuckin’ creamy, girl,” toji drags out a frustrated hum, getting annoyed by how good your pussy is. you’re going to become a problem.

“please,” you don’t even know what you’re saying it for. do you need him to stop, do you want more, or are you just completely fucked out you’re saying anything that’s coming to your head? that butterfly feeling is back in your stomach, as well as a foreign one near your clit, knowing exactly what’s going to happen. “toji, m’ g’na c-cummm. oh my god, babyy.”

your hiccups and sobs only urge him to fuck you even harder, loving how the breath literally jumps out of your throat in shock.

“cryin’ on this dick. fuck, you got me going crazy,” he really doesn’t want to cum yet, he needed to fuck you in every way imaginable. but he knows you need a break, to breathe for sure. he wanted to edge himself so that when he finally came, it’d be the best fucking orgasm of his life. your moans are clawing at his soul, so filthy and dulcet. you’re making it really fucking difficult to obtain that.

toji finds himself slamming his palm over your mouth to bury them in a way, but you’re so damn loud it’s getting to him. ‘fuck fuck fuck’ he’s cussing repeatedly in a whispered hush as he fucks you as hard he possibly can. his hand doesn’t even work, because you’re consuming him wholly and the minute he feels that build up, he pulls out to cum and you’ve drenched the sheets as you squirt. an almost blood curdling scream surrounds the room, your body rapidly trembling as your mouth falls open in utter shock, gasping, whining, whimpering, moaning his fucking name while he moaned yours. toji nutting up the entire side of your body, wrist twisting as he holds you body still, mouth drawn open.

his hand reaches over to unclamp your legs, heavy hand rubbing your pussy to stimulate you further, your back arching and head sinking into your pillow, crying out. he watches your hand flail to grip his wrist as your wetness continues to spurt out of you like water.

“strawberry!” toji listens to you weep, choking on your cries and pleads. finally having enough.

“holy s-shit,” you’re laughing while also trying to catch your breath, not believing that just happened. he can tell by the shock in your face that you’ve never had it happen before, or that much.

“damn,” he laughs along with you, smacking your outer thigh before smashing his lips to yours in a deep kiss, gliding your tongues together while his hands massaged every part of your body after allowing you to lay on your back. caressing and soothing you to calm you down. “gonna grab a rag.”

you pout when he goes to stand, already missing the disconnect as you lay empty on your . . messy bed. absolutely disgusting you two, hawk puth! one things for sure, you can’t keep that wide ass smile off your face. he comes back into the room, one of your pink towels wrapped around his midsection covering up that demon of a dick he carried. toji smirks down at you, grabbing your ankle and tugging you down to the edge of the bed before he’s taking a warm rag that smelt of your dove beauty bar to wipe what he painted on you. you swallow your lower lip into your mouth, watching with hooded eyes as he drags the rag sensually along ever part of your skin. you flinch when it comes to contact with your cunt, toji kissing your inner thigh with a ‘sorry’. he admires the curves of your body even more, kissing your ankle adorned with a silver anklet after he finishes.

“how you feeling?” he asks.

“i’m more than perfect.”

he hums. “you’re something else.”

“i was good?” you ask seriously, batting your lashes shyly.

toji stares at you as if you’re deadass. “don’t do that. you know you were. you didn’t hear me? i fuck you deaf?”

that makes you roll your eyes, but not before giggling. “hate you.”

“you won’t after i tell you i got chinese in the kitchen,” he winks, the light in your eyes making his heart swell. “c’mon, sexy.”

you sit up, gasping. “i knew i fucking smelt that shit when you came in. i thought it was outside!”

“nah, i realized i didn’t eat shit at the restaurant earlier so i decided to get us both something. did you even eat your salad?”

“i did, had to after you dropped a whole hundred,” you shake your head. “how’d you know i liked chinese?”

toji blinks. “baby, we literally talked half of this week. for hours. i have good memory.”

that slip of a nickname outside of sex warmed your chest, burying your face in your hair to hide your shyness. “you’re right.”

“don’t hide now, i’ve seen it all,” he chuckles, tickling the bottom of your foot.

“oh, whatever!” you chuck one of your plushies at him, half of them had fallen to the floor. toji gets up to grab your robe he saw hanging on the bathroom door, draping it around you as you stood.

he kisses your forehead and you walk ahead of him into the kitchen, screeching when he hit and gripped your ass, the two of you forgetting about the livestream altogether as you warmed up the food, poured a glass of wine and reminisced about what just happened.

angelbwrry live : 1M viewers.

© 𝒮𝒯𝟦𝑅𝐵𝒲𝑅𝑅𝒴! all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life ♡ 

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 34 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Maverick makes time to have a conversation with Bradley, but you've already lost faith in him. Your words hurt him more than anything else could. 

Warnings: Angst, adult language, body image, DILF Roo, pregnancy, jealousy

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

When the mattress dipped and you felt the bedding shift around your legs, you opened your eyes to find Bradley climbing out of bed. The room was still dark, but his face was illuminated by his phone screen. The baby was thumping against your tender insides, making you wince, and your husband was playing around on his phone in the middle of the night. Or texting someone.

"What are you doing?" you croaked. Bradley's gaze snapped toward your face, and he leaned down to pull the covers to your shoulder.

"Uh, I need to head to base a little early," he whispered, tracing your cheek with his thumb. "To meet with Mav."

"What time is it?" you asked, rolling toward him to see his phone.

"Almost six," he replied, kissing your forehead as he tipped his screen away. "I love you. Try to get some more sleep."

You swallowed hard, rolling away from him as he started pulling his uniform from the closet. The rustle of fabric set your nerves on edge, and you squeezed your eyes shut as he got dressed. Maybe he thought you fell asleep again, because he didn't say another word before he left the room. But you were pretty sure you heard him stop in Rose's nursery before leaving the house.

Now you were wide awake and alone. Your phone told you it was 5:28 which was completely absurd. Neither you nor Bradley ever got to base before 8:00 unless you were working your ass off on a project.

He used Maverick as his excuse which seemed ridiculous. Bradley wasn't in the middle of training for a special mission which would require extra hours before daylight. And he had to know Maverick would only cover for him for so long.

You sat up and laughed miserably. Your husband was lying to you. And you thought you knew what he was lying about. Tears filled your eyes as your hand rested on your belly where your younger daughter was moving around. Why was Bradley doing this to the three of you? 

It wasn't like you couldn't tell how bad you looked at the moment. You knew it. You were bloated and chunky and broken out, but it was at least half his fault you were pregnant again in the first place. And you would make it a priority to get in shape after she was born. You would.

Your fingers were curled around the sheets, trying to keep yourself on your side of the bed, but you crawled toward Bradley's nightstand anyway. The lamp was too bright, taking your eyes a beat to adjust. You yanked the drawer open which offered almost no insight to anything except his Nugget Notebook with the pink and blue striped cover. But then you saw something underneath it.

You grabbed the second notebook, this one bright pink, and pulled it from the drawer. Only the first few pages were covered in his writing, but you soaked the words up greedily.

To my second daughter, you are the third love of my life. I realize that sounds a little unfair, like you're coming in third place, but I promise that's not that case. It's only because I met your mom and your sister first. You're not even here yet, but I already know I love you just as much as I love them. And I can't wait to meet you, too.

Before I get carried away, let me introduce myself. I'm your dad. It's my job to love you and take care of you. I'm not perfect, but I love you so much, I'll always try my best to be here for anything you need. To be honest, I never expected to have a family at all. And to be extra honest, you were a bit of a surprise. But a very good surprise. My favorite kind of surprise. I can't wait to teach you everything I know, which isn't much, but I do know how to love my three girls. 

"How?" you gasped, dropping the notebook back into the drawer. You sobbed into Bradley's pillow, unable to make sense of this. How was the man who wrote notebook passages to his children the same man who was sneaking around behind your back. With Indigo. It simply did not make sense, but both versions of him seemed to exist at the same time. And somehow you were the one who was more at odds with yourself than he was with himself.

You could feel the love he had for his daughters. It was so obvious. He was so good with Rose, and he seemed excited about having two kids.

You weren't sure if you'd be able to kick him out. You didn't know if you could leave him. If push came to shove, you didn't know if you could be that strong. You wished he wasn't making you consider it at all. 

--------------------------

"Oh, God."

Bradley was awake as soon as Maverick replied to his text at five in the morning. He'd barely been able to sleep anyway, but when Maverick told Bradley he was heading to Lemoore in a few hours for a meeting, he begged his godfather to meet with him first.

Now Bradley was sitting in his office in a silent building waiting for any help he could get. As far as he had worked out, Indigo had been devouring his extra attention for weeks for a less savory reason than he originally thought. All the times she invited him out for a drink left him shaking his head while he stared at the wedding photo perched in his desk. 

He never tried to hide the fact that he was married. He fucking flaunted it. You were perfect; why wouldn't he? If someone else thought they had a gorgeous wife? Ha, Bradley could lay it down in spades. Someone else claimed their wife was smart? Well, his was a goddamn genius. Someone wanted to brag about their kids? All he had to do was pull up a photo of Rose, and he had everyone around him swooning.

He found it easier to make small talk about his family than anything else these days, and he was sure Indigo knew he was married before he even left Texas to fly back to San Diego. It still seemed unlikely she wanted to sleep with him, but he wasn't going to deny that Nat was usually right about these things.

"Oh, God," Bradley groaned for probably the tenth time since he woke up. He wanted to rewind and go back to Texas and never select Indigo in the first place. 

But would that have been fair? To leave her behind when she was the best? When she was clearly one of the pilots who should be moving forward with new programs? It wasn't like she ever touched him. Other than persistently inviting him for drinks and showing up for all of his office hours, she never made an advance. But now he was uncomfortable. There was something about the way she always looked at him that.....yeah, Nat was right.

But if Bradley couldn't handle his first assignment in his new position, how was he supposed to prove he could do this going forward?

There was a knock on his already open door, and Maverick stood there looking perplexed. "Bradley? What did you need that couldn't wait until later this week?"

Bradley groaned again as he stood. "Can you shut the door?"

"Sure."

Maverick let it slip from his fingers, and Bradley waited until the echo of the door closing gave way to silence. He could feel his godfather's gaze on his face as his eyes closed. He swallowed hard, not wanting to waste the other man's time, but now that he was here, he felt so stupid. 

"I need your help," Bradley rasped, voice hoarse as his eyes opened. "It's work related."

"Okay," Maverick replied, voice between a statement and a question. "What can I do?"

Bradley's fingers curled around the edge of his desk as he looked down at his phone sitting there. "Uh...Mav, this is embarrassing."

When Maverick took a step closer, he reached across the desk to cuff Bradley on the shoulder. "Just hit me with it."

Bradley took a long breath and let it out slowly. "There's another officer who... well, it's been brought to my attention that she..." He let go of his desk and rubbed his fingertips against his eyes. "There's a chance my wife thinks something's going on between me and another officer on base. One who reports to me."

Maverick's expression gave nothing away, but he shifted his weight from one foot to the other before taking a step away from Bradley. "To be clear, Bradley, are you asking me to help you hide an indiscretion from your wife?"

Bradley's head tilted slightly. "Huh?" he grunted, thoughts already swirling around his mind so rapidly, it took him a few seconds to catch up. "What the fuck, Mav? No!" he gasped. "An indiscretion?" He could barely even say the word as he shook his head. "No. God, no! Nothing happened! Nothing is ever going to happen!"

He realized he was shouting when Maverick's hands flew into the air in surrender. "Okay. Alright. I hear you loud and clear. I just needed to be sure I understand what we're dealing with here. Why don't you have a seat and explain everything to me?"

Bradley was raking his fingers through his hair as he dropped down into his chair. "It's Lieutenant Jeffries. Indigo." Her intense blue eyes filled his mind as he shook his head. "Phoenix and Hangman pointed out that she..." He paused and glanced at the ceiling. "This is so embarrassing, Mav, but they said it seems like she wants to sleep with me."

"Hmm."

When Maverick hummed and went silent, Bradley said, "I know how ridiculous it sounds."

"It doesn't," his godfather replied immediately. "This sort of thing happens sometimes. You said nothing happened? You should keep your distance moving forward, and if she contacts you outside of work or does anything inappropriate, we can write it up."

Bradley groaned miserably, unlocked his phone, and pushed it across the desk with his messages open. "She did text me outside of work."

While Maverick reached for the phone, he said, "Did you give her your number?"

"No. Why would I do that?" he replied. "But honestly, it's not hard to get access to that kind of information. I didn't think much of it the first time."

Maverick shrugged. "Well, what did she text-" His eyes grew wide when he looked down at the phone, his cheeks turning pink as he was surely looking at the photo that had been in Bradley's messages for less than twelve hours.

"Yeah," Bradley croaked. "She sent that last night."

"But she texted you before that. When you never explicitly gave her your number." Maverick looked up at him, shaking his head. "Bradley, what were you thinking? She seems to have some sort of agenda. You should have come to me immediately after the first message."

Bradley stood, stomach lurching. His marriage, career, and reputation were somehow all on the line, and he hadn't even done anything. He couldn't help but think of his parents and the fact that his dad probably never put his mom through this kind of shit when she was seven months postpartum.

"An agenda?" Bradley whispered. "Shit, Mav. This is the kind of thing that happens on carriers. Not on base. I thought this was something men did way more than women when they wanted to cheat."

Maverick handed his phone back across the desk with the photo of Indigo open. Bradley swiped out of the text thread immediately, sick to his stomach. 

"You work in a high stakes field where women routinely outperform men. They are capable of anything you are."

"I know that!" Bradley snapped. "But I'm married! I'm not looking for that shit. I never let on that I was."

"Oh, you sweet summer child," Maverick sighed, checking his watch. "Literally," he added as he dug his own phone from his pocket. "If Lieutenant Jeffries is sending you photos and playing coy, she doesn't care about your wife."

Bradley winced. "Fuck."

"Yeah," Maverick grunted, taking a few steps toward the door. "And your wife is pregnant and vulnerable, and now I'm going to have to tell Admiral Simpson that I'll be late getting to Lemoore. Follow me. And bring your phone."

-------------------------------------

Bradley was late getting home. This was happening almost every night now, and you were hanging on by a thread as Rose screamed in your arms. She was fed, but she always seemed to prefer the way Bradley burped her over your technique.

"He's not here," you said through gritted teeth. "I don't know where he is or when he'll be back. I just need you to burp so you can go to sleep."

Your texts had gone unanswered. You weren't sure if Bradley had been in the cafeteria at lunchtime, because you hid in your office. Dinnertime had come and gone, and his cold plate of food was currently sitting on the kitchen counter.

"I don't know where he is," you repeated to your daughter while her younger sister did somersaults against your bladder. Rose's sobs finally started to taper off as you rubbed your hand firmly against her back. She finally burped, and that seemed to do the trick. Her fists curled up next to her face as she yawned. You barely had enough time to change her into a clean diaper and pajamas before her eyes were closed.

You were mentally, physically, and emotionally drained. You stood in her nursery, watching her sleep while you decided you needed to say something to your husband tonight. There was no way you could keep punishing yourself for not being enough. If he wanted someone else, you deserved to have him say it to your face.

But when you heard him open the front door thirty minutes later, your heart lurched into your stomach at the sight of him. You'd known how handsome he was since the day you met him, and he only seemed to get better looking with age. Each year added more silver to his hair and laugh lines to his face, but he was undeniably sexy.

Today, however, he looked exhausted, and your brain went wild with awful ideas. What had he gotten up to? Why was he so late? The top buttons of his uniform were undone, and his hair was mussed. He was staring down at his phone in his hand while you stood silently at the end of the hallway, terrified of what he was looking at.

Suddenly everything you'd been holding inside for weeks was bubbling up to the surface, and you were done holding it back. You cleared your throat, and his gaze snapped up to your face, phone hanging in his hand by his side.

"Hey, Sweetheart. Is Rosie already asleep?"

You nodded, taking each step slowly until you were standing right in front of him. When he reached for you, his fingers skimmed your shoulder before you pushed his hand away. Those beautiful, brown eyes you loved so much went wide, but he didn't look surprised. Not at all.

"Why are you so late?" you snapped. "And don't feed me some bullshit about office hours, because I know your schedule. Or, at least, I know what they are supposed to be."

Bradley licked his lips, gesturing between the two of you with his phone. "I had to take care of something important with Maverick."

You wanted to laugh in his face. "You're really going to use the same excuse as this morning? Another meeting with Maverick? What, one was at the crack of dawn and the other was after dinnertime? I've been texting you for hours, Bradley."

You watched his Adam's apple bob. "I didn't have my phone with me for part of the day."

"You have it now!" you laughed sardonically, pointing at his hand just in time to see his phone light up. 

It was her. You saw her name there. Indigo. She was texting your husband well after work hours, and you could already feel the tears stinging your eyes.

You grabbed his phone before he seemed to realize what was happening. Your fingers shook as you entered his passcode to find it was still your birthday. He wasn't even trying to hide this from you. He wasn't trying to take his phone back. As you braced yourself for what you were about to see, you whispered, "What the fuck is going on with her?"

His brown eyes were so sincere, and once again, you couldn't understand how this was the same man who wrote journals for his unborn children. "Nothing," he replied, voice taking on a tone of defeated exhaustion. "There's nothing going on."

Your eyes dipped down to his phone to find not one, but two flirtatious selfies. One new one, and one that was sent last night while he was working out in the garage. Indigo's eyes stared back at you from the screen, mocking you, making a fool of your family.

You were crying. You didn't want Bradley to see you cry right now, but you couldn't stop. "This doesn't look like nothing. And you didn't tell her to stop."

Now he looked panicked, eyes wide as he saw the photo on his phone in your hand. "Okay, I know this looks bad, but I reported it, I swear! I've never been alone with her behind closed doors. You can call Mav!"

Violent sobs shook your body, and when Bradley slowly let his hand settle on your arm, you shook him free. "You expect me to believe nothing is going on? When you get home late every day? When she told me that it's no wonder you prefer her since I let myself go?" you gasped, swiping at your tears.

"What?" Bradley barked as you blindly handed his offending phone back to him. "She said that to you?"

You nodded miserably, taking a step away from him. "I don't want to know if you said that to her, or if she formed her own opinion after spending time with you. And I don't want to know if you're fucking her or just considering it. But I want you out of the house."

Bradley looked like you just slapped him. His mouth was hanging open, brow creased while you sobbed. "You want me out?" he whispered, hand going up to rake his fingers through his hair.

"Yes," you squeaked, trying to stay strong not just for yourself, but for your daughters as well. Every word hurt as you forced them out of your mouth, but you had to say them. "Go. Until I can talk to my parents about canceling the sale of their house. I'll transfer to Annapolis. Take the girls with me."

Bradley closed the distance to you, tears already pooling in his eyes as he dropped to his knees. His lips found your belly, and you sobbed harder as he wrapped his hands around your hips. "No. You can't," he said so softly, you could barely hear him. When he looked up at your face, you almost believed he would never be capable of hurting you. "Baby Girl, you can't leave me. I need you. I need my girls."

When you stepped out of his grasp, his arms fell limply to his sides. You'd never seen him look so miserable before, and you had to stand firm instead of reaching for his hands.

"Find somewhere else to sleep."

The implications of your own words stung your heart, and you had to watch him slowly get to his feet. He kissed your forehead, and your eyes blurred with fresh tears when he went down the hallway to Rose's room. Less than a minute passed, but each second felt like a day. You had plenty of time to tell him the truth. That you didn't want him to leave. That you couldn't blame him for wanting someone else, and you still needed him as much as he said he needed you.

When he reappeared, you pressed your lips together even as he kissed your damp cheek. "I love you," he rasped. "I'm never going to stop loving you. I'll figure out some way to make you believe me."

You watched him retreat to the front door with his keys, shoulders sagging as he gave you one last lingering look before slipping out into the darkness.

------------------------------------

Ouch. Ouch. Okay. I want BG to believe Roo beyond any doubt, and I think I know how to make that happen. Please stay tuned. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 36

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@solacestyles

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

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@ccbb2222

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@desert-fern

@horseslovers2016

@mattyskies

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@local-spidey

@schoollover

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@nicole01-23

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@mygyn

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@theamuz

@khaylin27

@glenpowellluver

[feelfreetopleasemexo]

OMGG I FUCKING LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE KATSUKI. DEAR GOD.

I'd love to request a katsuki x shy artsy reader. Reader loves to admire kats when he's not looking, scribbling away in a notebook, which is filled with pages on pages of messy doodles and detailed sketches of him. She draws him using his quirk, she draws him in his suit... eyebrow raisingly detailed, and most of all, she studies his headshots. She captures his various expressions to the T, and sometimes writes little notes on him anywhere in the book where she has space

Of course, bakugo notices how she's always got that chunky damned notebook on her. And the more he catches her drawing away in her own little world in class, the more curious he gets, wanting to know what she could possibly be filling that book with for it to by triple is original thickness. So he confronts her. He's like "yo what're ya drawin' nerd" and she slams that book so hard and fast, immediately getting up to find the restroom it catches him off guard. And now he's suspicious. So he's making it his mission to find out what's inside that book, and if he has to chase her down to get answers then so be it

thank you thank youuuuu!

Thank you so much, means the world to me that you like my writing 🥹🥹

The book of love

If anyone so much as glanced at your notebook, they’d think you were some fan girl obsessed with the up and coming Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight. It didn’t start out that way, it first started with stupid caricatures of your class mates and teachers. Kirishima with overly large shark teeth, midoriya with big bubbling watering eyes, everyone on a leash as mr aizawa held us all like feral children, hair a mess looking like a distraught single mother. Until you started to do more and more of Katsuki. He was easy to over exaggerate, big angry eyes, large explosions with him maniacally laughing in the background, a child holding an ice cream, him screaming at them for dripping it on his shoe, then the top of the ice cream falling on the floor with the child crying and him pointing, laughing at them.

Youd usually draw the pictures, rip them out and slip them to the person, making them smile and laugh at their over exaggerations, hell even mr aizawa kept his taped to the whiteboard so everyone could see how pained they made him, even in his little exhausted Chibi state. But you NEVER showed Katsuki his. He’d just burn them up, why waste the paper? Youd show them to midoriya and kirishima, warranting laughs at his eyes, his overly sharp hair, his complete lack of spatial awareness and how he clearly didnt know how to comfort kids around him. It started small, it started innocent, until Mina asked if you could draw a detailed picture of her looking badass. You spent three days drawing her in her acidman suit, glistening in the sun, donning a super cool super hero pose. She lapped it up, she stuck it to her desk and used it as some kind of inspiration, anytime she felt deflated at her loss or needed a pick me up, she’d stare at the photo, flash a massive grin and her faced will with determination. It didn’t take long before you found yourself drawing katsuki in a similar way.

His chiseled jaw, his burning eyes, the way his suit shirt clung to his abs like it was painted on…you found yourself drawing him more and more, until your notebook was compiled almost completely of him. It looked like a damn worshippers guide to Katsuki Bakugo. Tiny notes written around the headshots youd drawn, little quotes from him, tiny skulls and explosions danced around the detailed graphite scribbles as you suddenly realised he had sat down opposite you. You slammed the book closed as if whoever read it were destined to die. Your breath hitched, your hand pressed heavily on the front of your hook, almost forcing all of your weight ontop of it.

“Whatcha writing nerd? That damn book not finished yet?!” He leaned over the desk towards you, his eyes almost burning the top of your hand as he scowled at it. He reached his hand over wanting to snatch it from you, as you quickly held it to your chest and pushed your chair away from yourself as you stood up.

“Oh, nothing….i mean yeah I just Yano, like to take notes. My adhd ass can’t ever concentrate when Mr Aizawa babbles on…yano what he’s like….” Nervous laughed filled your voice as you started to walk towards the door, “gotta pee so…yeah.. cya!” You ran out of the door faster than he did whenever he chased midoriya after he compliment him, straight to the rest room. As your back leant against the cubicle door, you let out a massive sigh still clutching the book to your chest like a mother cradling their child. After composing yourself, you finally left, only to be greeted abruptly by katsukis chest. He pointed his finger into the book, his eyes staring down at you.

“Why don’t you ever show me those crappy drawings? You’re always giving everyone else shitty cartoons about themselves….why not me? Scared I’ll kill you if it’s bad?” He huffed, clearly unimpressed and slightly hurt that he was the only one in your class that hadn’t received their very own caricature.

“Errr, actually….yes.” You looked up at him, eyes nearly shaking at him being so close to you, terrified he’d let out a blast and ruin your hours of hard work. He tightened his eyes, tilting his head slightly down at you, as he saw you clutch the book closer to your chest.

“Well. I won’t. Just draw me a shitty picture, i dont like being left out. Nerd.” As he pushed you slightly, he started to walk away as you flicked to the front of the book and ripped out a particularly funny drawing. You shoved it into his hand as you ran past him, gunning straight for the classroom again. He stared down at the drawing, it was him sat ontop of everyone as they were pilled underneath him, eyes crosses, tongues sticking out, like he was sat ontop of a thrown of your classmates corpses. Tiny smoke clouds danced around them as midoriya was the last person he was sat ontop of. He let out a tiny chuckle as he shoved it into his pocket, you were surprisingly good at making him out as the king of everyone.

That was the start of his demanding. Everyday, he asked you to draw another.

“Give me wings. Give me sharper teeth. Make me kick midoriya’s ass whilst everyone watches and laughs at him. Make me look like all might, but better. Draw me with a wife and ki….?” His eyes darted to yours as you started scribbling quickly next to him, the woman looking shocking like you….you slammed the book closed and chucked it into your bag.

“Im tired, think my hands cramping now. Sorry dynamite….ill do more tomorrow.” You flashed him a smile as your cheeks began to get rosey, shuffling off to your locker and chucking your bag into it. His eyes narrowed, trying to hide his own embarrassment at the fact he wanted a picture of him with a family.

The next day he slumped to your desk again, his usual smirk plastered over his mouth.

“Draw me riding a dragon.” A simple please would’ve shocked you at this point as you opened your book and flipped to a new page, unfortunately you had forgotten that late last night you had fallen asleep drawing his side profile, wearing his hero costume, with it ripped slightly around his left eye. The open page stared back at the both of you, as your eyes widened and you slammed it shut. The sheer attention to detail on the half finished drawing made every finer in your body shake, you almost visibly started vibrating in your seat as your eyes darted to his, still staring down at where the page had laid.

“Was….that me?” His voice low, quiet, almost a rumble in his chest. You ran off before you could answer, tears welling in your eyes as you darted for the restroom again, the lump in your throat almost suffocating you. Before you could leave, he grabbed your arm and stopped you. With his eyes still looking down, he cleared his throat,

“Have….you, done anymore?” You shook your head no, trying to pry his hand off your bicep, desperately wishing you Mirio’s quirk.

“No no of course not, im not some weirdo…” suddenly he snatched the book from your hands. You lunged towards him, scratching, fighting, doing anything you could to get that book out of his damn hands. He stood up, grabbing you by the collar and held you outstretched like a cat desperately trying to claw away from the bath it so desperately needed. His eyes darted to the drawings you had painstakingly drawn of him, his face, his body, his small smiles and the way the light danced off his crimson eyes. The silence between you two only made your chest heavier, he was witnessing you at your most disgusting, your most vulnerable. You curled your body into yourself as you covered your face with your hands, sobbing into your palms.

“Im sorry kacchan, please don’t think im weird.”

A moment of silence, suddenly broken.

“Do you….really see me like this?” His eyes still fixed to the book, you couldnt read the expression on his face clearly, was he so angry he was suddenly calm? Was he beyond disgusted that he was about to obliterate you to atoms? He slowly lowered you down and clutched the book in his hands.

“Can i…”

“No.” He shoved the book into his bag and stormed off back to the dorms. Your heart sank as you were sure he was going to rip you to shreds, plastering the walls of the school in your drawings, humiliating you infront of everyone. You began to quickly think of different ways you could flee the country, maybe go to English to live with your cousins, maybe even Africa, start fresh.

The next day, you were terrified to go to class. You skulked the halls, searching desperately for any shred of evidence of your drawings on lockers, but nothing. Nothing looked different,no one stared at you and mocked, no one shouted stalker accusations at you as you enter the class room. You sat at your desk and put your head onto it, deeply sighing into it like the whole world now rest on your back, crushing you, when suddenly your book got dropped on the top of your head. You flung up and clung to it, to see Katsuki sitting down at his desk at the back of the class. As you looked at him, he stated straight ahead as if you didn’t exist, lounging back into his chair and putting his feet ontop of his desk. You looked back at your book and studied the note scribbled on the front of it.

‘Look at the back, nerd.’

You flipped to the last page and saw two stick figure drawings, one with bright orange hair in a mess, love eyes instead of usual ones, and then another standing tall with a crown on its head. It was you and him. You couldve drawn better when you were three, but it quickly became the best drawing you had ever seen. Your vision quickly becoming blurred from your tears welling up, you turned to look at him, and still staring forward, he let out a tiny smirk.

Part two out now!

[glowettee]

✧ some girls collect books like other people collect apologies ✧ | aria montgomery

you know that girl who always looks like she’s coming from a bookstore or a heartbreak? that’s aria montgomery. oversized sweater slipping off one shoulder. spiral notebook clutched like a secret. vintage ring that doesn’t match but still looks intentional. she’s the reason why half of us still romanticize rainy days and weird thrift store finds.

aria isn’t the dark academia girl who quotes aristotle or does latin translations for fun, she’s the one who writes poems in her margins during math class, the one who shows up to school wearing velvet in september, and the one who knows how to turn every trauma into a metaphor.

i wanted to talk about what makes her the ✧ dark dream girl ✧ of rosewood, and how you can borrow that energy for your own dark academia-coded study + lifestyle routine.

(i tried a very poetic approach to this post, if you wanna see more, go follow my substack)

✧ the emotional foundation: aestheticism as survival

aria doesn’t just like pretty things, she needs them. for girls like her, beauty is a shield. it’s the perfume you spray before crying. it’s the eyeliner you perfect after your trust is broken. aria uses art and literature the way some people use therapists: she confesses to her canvas, she bleeds into her journal.

she was never just “quirky.” she was trying to survive in the most beautiful way possible.

you don’t do it to impress anyone. you do it to stay soft in a world that keeps trying to roughen you up.

✧ your aria-inspired academic lifestyle

studying isn’t boring when it’s a little bit haunted.

dark academia isn’t only about reading old books. it’s about how you live when you believe everything could be meaningful.

♡ your study rituals:

light a candle before you open your books (yes, even during the day. bonus points if it’s sandalwood or “old library” scented)

romanticize writing essays by doing them in cursive first, or outlining in your favorite pen

create a spotify playlist with dark academia music

keep a book in your bag at all times. your goal is to look like you just escaped a literature class from 1885.

♡ your tools:

a notebook that feels like it’s holding secrets (leather-bound, moleskine, or something you DIY with pressed flowers and tape)

highlighters in muted tones: deep burgundy, antique rose, sage

sticky notes with lines from poems you don’t fully understand, but feel anyway

your favorite pen that feels like it glides across paper when you write something dramatic

✧ the aria montgomery wardrobe theory

aria never dressed for trends, she dressed like a plot twist. litterally. you don’t have to copy her exact looks (feather earrings are very 2012 and that’s okay), but you can channel her ✧ vibe ✧ with this updated formula i created:

🖤 wear textures that feel like stories:

velvet, lace, knit, wool, mesh

things that look like they belong in an old attic or a cursed boarding school

🖤 color palette:

oxblood, ink black, ash grey, cream, plum, antique gold

the kind of colors that make you look like you know how to read tarot and annotate your syllabus

🖤 silhouette:

long coats, ankle boots, chunky scarves, asymmetrical hemlines

anything that gives “i’m on my way to find answers in the rain”

🖤 accessories:

rings on every other finger

book earrings, tiny lockets, vintage glasses

always wear something slightly off, a detail that makes people pause

✧ soft-spoken girls with sharp minds

aria’s quietness isn’t passive. it’s calculated. she observes everything. she remembers everything. and she hides her strength in softness.

when you adopt her mindset, your silence becomes strategy. your softness becomes unsettling. be the mystery and the solution. be the girl who reads you like a book, but won’t even dog-ear the page.

✧ making your life a literary masterpiece

aria montgomery’s entire vibe is living like she’s the main character in a half-sad, half-beautiful novel.

🕯 journal like it’s your only witness

don’t just “take notes.” write diary entries. write how your teacher’s voice sounded like static today. how you saw a bird and thought about someone who doesn’t call anymore.

don’t just do to-do lists. write manifestos.

“today i will be quiet but terrifying. i will get an A and feel nothing. i will smile like i know something they don’t.”

🎞 document everything

take pictures of your desk at golden hour

scan your coffee cup stains and call it “visual poetry”

make your notes beautiful. pretend someone will find them 100 years from now.

🖋 write poetry like it’s a weapon

start with a feeling. disguise it with metaphors.

every time someone makes you feel like nothing, write something beautiful to prove them wrong.

✧ mindy’s personal tips on ariafying your life

💌 keep one book that feels like your personality. reread it every year. 📚 annotate your textbooks like they’re love letters. 🖼 print out art that makes you feel too much and tape it near your desk. 🎭 give every outfit a backstory: “this is what i wore to break someone’s heart in an old bookstore.” 🕯 whisper poetry in the mirror when you don’t feel pretty.

✧ parting thoughts

aria montgomery was never just “the artsy girl.” she was an entire ✧ emotional atmosphere ✧. and if you’ve ever felt too sensitive, too strange, too poetic for this world... you’re not alone. you’re pll-coded. you’re aria-coded. and that makes you dangerous in the most beautiful way.

you don’t have to collect apologies. you can collect books. collect outfits. collect love letters to yourself. and most importantly, collect proof that you felt everything and survived anyway.

i hope you all love this poetic approach, an interest of mine is to study poetry and i wanted to give a more poetic writing style for this, i love this pll series so much and i hope you all do too.

[fear-is-truth]

i can imagine singer reader. her origin story is dating rodrick in hs, and for a few of their gigs, they let her sing on stage which led to them gaining much more traction (obvi a girl with a gorg voice!!!).

loded diper never made it past highschool, and honestly they never intended it to. but, now !reader has a band. and i can just see it all so clearly, and i fear i am not making this ask clear at all but i can't think of how to word it.

INTRODUCING… SINGER!READER

faded loded diper shirt, sleeves torn off. flannel shirts (stolen from her boyfriend), chunky rings, silver. nails painted blacked or chipped, depending on the day. torn fishnets, combat boots and converse. black eyeliner, done by rodrick (she insists he does a better job than her). monster energy in hand. hole, bikini kill, joan jett—riot grrrl anthems. keychains hanging from her bag.

it all started in his parents’ basement. sticky floors, tangled cords, and amps turned up way too loud. rodrick let her sing one night as a joke, but the second her voice hit the mic, everyone stopped laughing. even him.

they started letting her on stage for a few gigs. she was known as “the girl” in the band. the reason loded diper started pulling bigger crowds. the guys teased her about it, but they all knew the truth—people weren’t coming for the music. they came for her.

they stayed together, even after loded diper fell apart. high school ended, rodrick got into college and even managed to get a part-time job—something she never thought he’d actually do. the bandmates drifted off.

but she didn’t stop. couldn’t stop.

she still has the loded diper shirt he gave her, the sharpie had faded, but she never got rid of it. keeps it folded in a drawer with her other relics from high school—the setlists scribbled on notebook paper, a few grainy photos, the drumstick he broke during one of their best shows.

now, she has a band of her own. inspired by hole, bikini kill, avril lavigne and joan jett. monster energy cans scattered across their shared apartment. a lipstick-stained coffee mug on the amp. her guitar case is covered in stickers, but her favourite says, “don’t be a groupie, be a rockstar”

she’s the one chasing her dream now, playing shows in sweaty little venues while he works and drums in his free time. her boyfriend shows up to every gig, leaning against the back wall with his arms crossed, pretending he isn’t as proud as he is. sometimes, rodrick still misses being on stage with her. watching her take over the crowd while he kept the beat behind her. but he knows this is her moment, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

 fear-is-truth — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[thestarsaboveme]

Lads men x Reader who's really into horror movies

masterlist

this was a request from a kind anon.

summary: reader who really likes horror movies.

xavier | zayne | sylus | caleb

rafayel x reader | fluff

Rafayel watches you from where he's lounging sideways on your couch, head propped on a pillow like some tragic Victorian poet. He looks criminally comfortable for someone sitting through a 1970s horror slasher. The kind with grainy film and uncomfortably long shots of people doing absolutely nothing before something awful happens.

But you, you are in your element.

You're sitting cross-legged with your notebook in your lap. Well, notebook is a strong word. It's more like a fabric-bound monster of its own. A monstrosity of dog-eared pages, scribbled thoughts, bookmarks made of candy wrappers, and a paperclip that's given up on doing anything useful.

You're scribbling furiously with a glittery gel pen as the killer's silhouette appears behind the protagonist on screen.

''You see that?'' you say, eyes gleaming as you pause the movie, so you can better gesture with your pen. ''They used high-contrast techniques to create deep shadows and strong highlights, blurring the line between the physical and the psychological. It's a callback to The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari-expressionist influences, full circle. Ugh! So good.''

Rafayel raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow.

''Cutie,'' he says, voice thick with amused affection, ''only you could make murder sound like a love letter.''

You grin without looking up. ''I don't like the gore, I like the craft. There's intention in every frame. Every light. Every angle. The violence is just…contextual punctuation.''

He hums thoughtfully. ''A semicolon of suffering.''

''Exactly!''

There's a moment of silence as you flip a few more pages, trying to find your breakdown of the film's lighting progression. Rafayel leans over a little, pretending to peer into the book, but mostly just using it as an excuse to get closer.

He taps one corner gently. ''Is that…a pressed flower?''

''Yes. From the Suspiria screening. The remake, not the original.''

''Of course,'' he murmurs, clearly having no idea what that means but delighted all the same.

Then, softly, ''You carry entire universes in this book of yours.''

You blink, caught off guard. ''It's just a notebook.''

He smiles like you've said something heartbreakingly naive. ''It's a testament. To what you love. To how your mind works. And if I may say so,'' he traces the notebook's tattered edge with a fingertip, ''that is its own kind of romance.''

You feel your face heat up.

''I mean, if you really want romance,'' you say, trying to regain footing, ''we could watch Crimson Peak next. The actors have said that it's a very passionate love story, supported and complemented by fantastic elements. And not to forget, it's the first film in the Mystery Horror Genre. ''

He exhales a laugh. ''That might be the most you version of flirting I've ever heard.''

You bump your shoulder against his, smiling. ''You're still here listening.''

''Cutie, I would sit through a thousand jump scares and a dozen cursed VHS tapes just to hear you talk about third-act structure and prosthetic gore.''

''…Even found footage films?''

He shudders. ''Let's not test the strength of my devotion.''

You laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder as you unpause the movie. He adjusts slightly, letting you rest against him while your chunky notebook stays balanced in your lap. His hand finds yours, thumb brushing softly over your fingers as the scene resumes.

Blood erupts on cue, the soundtrack crashing down like a closing curtain.

And Rafayel smiles, because nothing makes him feel more enchanted than seeing you light up in the dark, explaining why fear on film is just another way to understand the human heart.

[am-i-interrupting]

Across the River | Viktor x Jinx’s Older Sister

Chapter 3 | Lunch Break

Summary: After the explosion and disappearance of Vi, you take your little sister across the river to Piltover. You struggle to keep the two of you afloat but manage to get Jinx to the academy. This is where she procures an internship that changes your lives.

It was a week before Jinx stepped foot in the lab again. Immediately she was back to her normal, hyper energetic self.

Excitedly telling you when she got to the apartment, all about what she and the two scientists have been up to. It was only after she left that you realized her notebook and lunch sitting on the counter.

You sighed as you picked it up on your way out the door. You didn’t have time to run it to her before work so during your lunch break it was. Good thing you didn’t have any major plans for it.

You had your sandwich in your hand as you walked down the streets. You ate it as you walked. You were finished before you were even halfway to the building Jinx ran to everyday.

You stood in front of it for a moment. It was big and it was shining from how clean it was.

You looked down at your own clothes. A black vest that had been so ripped and tattered when you found it, you simply cropped it for convenience as a shirt. Torn jeans that were frayed at the ends because they were too long and are too big. Straps around your waist holding multiple items including your water bottle and multiple tools you used in the shop. Big, chunky boots that were only held together with straps that wrapped around the bottoms and then wound through the holes meant for shoe laces. You were covered in grease.

You sighed and shrugged to yourself. Nothing you could do about it.

You pushed open the doors.

“Hello,” you said as you made the conscious choice not to lean on the counter.

The secretary at the counter looked up. Her eyes dragged over you. Her lips clamped together as a not subtle at all look of judgement came over her face.

“I’m here to drop something off for Jinx, Jayce Talise and Viktor’s assistant,” you said with a sharp smile.

She exhaled, a small noise of displeasure coming out with it. “It’s up the stairs on the third floor, take a left, last door at the end of the hall.”

Just as she finished talking there was a ding of an elevator. You looked over and then brought your gaze back to her, unamused.

“The elevator is for employee use only.”

“Uh-huh.”

You walked up the stairs regardless, no matter how belittled it made you feel. This was going to be a long lunch break, that wasn’t even a break.

Halfway up the first set of stairs your leg began to pulse. You winced as your leg jerks up on its own accord. One hand goes to the wall and the other massages around scar tissue.

You whisper a curse to yourself.

You let your body fall and turn so you fall on your ass, not your ribs. You bring your leg in close. Your head rests on your knee.

You don’t have time for this.

You need to get back to work in forty and it took fifteen to get here without your leg acting up.

You bang your head against your knee creating a new pain to focus on. “Fucking—“ bang “damn—“ bang “it!” bang

You knee hurts now. Your head? It’s hard. More fine that what you were going for.

“Excuse me,” a man’s voice, on the higher almost nasally side, said from behind you, “do you require assistance?”

You look back to see a yordle. He was wearing a deep blue outfit that contrasted light blue eyes sat atop a peach colored nose. He had a white mustache that curled upward and obscured his lips. The white spread all across his face and turned orange near the top of his head. He looked vaguely familiar.

Something rang in your head that this man was important.

“I just need to sit for a moment,” you decided on saying, not wanting to admit any defeat or show any weakness but also not wanting to offend this man.

“Ah,” he said as he jumped a couple steps to where you were and plopped himself next to you.

There were a couple moments of silence. The man looked ahead though he was no doubt aware of your suspicious gaze on him.

Where had you seen this face before?

“You don’t look like anyone I’ve seen in here before,” he said. He turned those stark blue eyes to you. “May I inquire as to why you’re here?”

You raised the leather bag you’d been carrying covered in buckles and zippers. “My sister forgot some things.”

“So your sister works here? Who is she?” he asked. “I may be able to point you there in a faster direction.”

You looked him up and down. Searching for some give to any ill intent but no, this man was a completely open book, open in his curiosity and earnesty.

“Jinx.”

“Oh, I see the family resemblance now!” the man said. “What a fine young woman that Jinx is. If you’re done sitting for the moment, I will be more than happy to let you use my badge for the elevator ride up. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”

“I—“ you cut yourself off.

This man was being nice to you. He knew Jinx. He saw her in a good light. He could get your tentative trust for this moment in time.

“I suppose, if it’s no hassle for you.”

“Oh, none at all,” he said as he sprung to his feet. He started jumping up the stairs. “I have no where so important to be that I can’t spare a moment.”

You hauled yourself up. You grimaced for a moment, a sting shooting up your leg, but you began to follow him as he rattled on.

One hand was against the wall for balance and the other slowly raised to your face.

Family resemblance.

The dark blue, purple hair you had was different to Jinx’s light blue but like that of your mother’s. People always said all three of you looked like her.

All three, you, Powder, and Violet. It was a joke that your father wasn’t actually related to any of you but you could see it in Jinx’s creativity, her beautiful brain. You saw it in Vi’s brashness.

Vi. Janna, you missed Violet.

“Ah, here we are!” the yordle said. “Now where did that thing go?”

He patted himself down and stuck one hands in his pockets until he pulled out a badge. It had his picture on it and you snuck a glance at his name.

Cecil B. Heimerdinger

Your heart dropped to your stomach. He was a member of the council. Not even a member. He was the head of the council.

He pressed the badge to the reader, standing on the tips of his toes as he did.

“Floor level three,” he said. “You just take a left and it’ll be the last door at the end of the hall; two big doors. It’s hard to miss. Tell Ms. Jinx, Mr. Talise, and Viktor I send my regards. Good day you!”

He finished with a flourish of his hand, almost like a half bow as the door dinged open.

“Thank you, sir,” you said but he was already gone, skittering back to the staircase.

What an odd man.

You leaned back against the wall and shifted your weight to your left leg. It took all of ten seconds for you to get to the third floor this way.

You walked out and immediately took a left. There, at the end of the hall, was a pair of large double doors, impossible to miss.

You knocked on them.

A man, tall, brawny, light brown skin and dark brown hair answered the door. Piltover’s pretty boy.

“May I help you?”

Despite your fatigued state you managed to easily slip beneath the man’s arm as you dug in your bag. Immediately you honed in on your sister. You tossed a brown bag onto the table in front of her.

“Your lunch,” you tossed the book aiming for her lap but she immediately caught it before it could land, “and your notes.”

“So that’s where they went,” Jinx said.

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

Jinx, seeing your weight heavily on one side, grabbed the back of the empty chair behind her and rolled it towards you. You sat, hands on your knees as you hunched.

“That’s where they stayed.”

“This is my sister,” Jinx said as she dug into her lunch bag.

You raised a hand and waved. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Jayce said weakly.

Your hand immediately went to your temples.

“Are you alright?” Viktor’s accented voice asked.

“They get like this sometimes,” Jinx said. “A couple years ago there was. . . a thing that happened. It certainly happened,” she laughed to calm her nerves as she thought back. “Anyway, it happened and now sometimes their leg hurts.”

You slapped the back of her head with the back of your hand. She knew better than to say that to just anyone. That is dangerous information to give out.

“Ow!”

“Now your head hurts,” you told her.

Viktor’s lip quirked up. He reached into a drawer to hide it though. There was the sound of rummaging before he produced a bottle. Inside rattled pills. He popped the lid and poured one out.

“Try these,” he said as he placed the pill in your hand and handed you the now closed bottle.

He made an assumption, a correct one, that you’d like to look over the ingredient list before taking it from him. Which was fair, knowing you both were from the Undercity.

You after a moment you downed the pill and moved to hand him the bottle.

“Keep it,” he said. “It’s just over the counter. They don’t work for me anymore. While we’re at it, haul yourself a taxi.”

He flipped a coin that Jinx caught instead of you.

“I don’t need charity.”

“Not charity. It’s payment, great minds can’t go hungry, can they?”

“He’s right,” Jinx said through a mouthful. “I was gonna get really pissy if I didn’t eat soon.”

She shoved the coin in your hand.

Jayce watched, befuddled and confused, not able to understand the solidarity between Undercity kids.

[pricesgirl]

Mary Janes

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

3

Y/N

She’s not here. Again...Focus.

I lower my pen. Back to my notes. Bullet points, crisp, structured. The teacher drones on, voice blending with the rustle of paper, the relentless click of pens. And yet, my eyes dart to the back of the room. To her seat.

Empty.

Of course, it’s empty. She’s never here. Too busy skipping, loitering, doing whatever people like her do when they’re not busy wasting potential. A quiet huff escapes my lips, and I straighten in my chair, brushing away the invisible speck of dust from my cuff.

Why does it bother me? Why does she bother me?

The door bursts open with all the subtlety of a cannon, and in she struts—Jinx, the resident chaos embodied. She stands there for a beat, letting all eyes soak her in like she’s the main act at some twisted circus.

Her braids are messy, straggling at the ends like she’s forgotten what a comb is. Her uniform? A farce. The shirt’s untucked, the skirt’s too short, and those torn tights have definitely seen better days. But it’s the chunky platform boots that make the most noise, clomping against the floor like she’s got something to prove.

“Oops, did I interrupt something?” she grins, completely unfazed.

“Miss Jinx,” Mrs Harrison says through gritted teeth, “you’re late. Again.”

“Fashionably,” Jinx chirps back, plopping into a seat with enough force to make it screech. Clearly used to Jinx's absolute shenanigans Mrs Harrison just sighs and goes back to explaining todays assignment.

It's a collaborative assignment on Romeo and Juliet .

Collaborative?

I feel my stomach churn. I’m used to being left alone in class, my quiet demeanor and diligent note-taking keeping me safe from group assignments. But today, I’m stuck with someone. My eyes flick nervously around the room, and then—inevitably—her name is called.

What a cliche.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿

Jinx

Oh fucking shit.

Her? I have to work with her?

That's got to be some sick mental torture.

This is some advanced-level psychological warfare. Torture by forced proximity—congrats, humanity, you’ve peaked.

I look over at her, and she’s already shooting daggers at me with that icy stare of hers.

I can’t help it—I waggle my fingers at her, just to fuck with her. She doesn’t like that. Doesn’t like it at all. But I can’t stop, it’s too damn fun.

She glares harder, and I can see her teeth clenching behind that fake calm. Classic.

“Really? We’re doing the silent treatment thing already?” I say, grinning.

“Shut up for gods sake.” she mutters, shoving her disgustingly perfect notebook my way like I’ll taint it by breathing too close.

She pulls out her notes on ye olde Romeo and Juliet, like she’s about to make a damn presentation or something, all pristine and in order.

“Wow.” I glance at the pristine handwriting. “Do you alphabetize your brain too, or is this just for me?”

Her jaw tightens. She’s two seconds from snapping. "Focus. For five seconds. I’m begging you."

"Aw, begging already?" I smirk, leaning forward. "This partnership’s off to a great start."

Y/N's cheeks flame.

What the fuck?

She liked that?

I liked that.... shut the fuck up, i did not.

Shit.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

“Just read them, please…” Her voice is softer now.

I stare at her for a second. That wasn’t what I was expecting. Is she trying to pull some kind of mind game on me?

Please.

That doesn’t fly with me.

“C’mon, Powder! Please, please, please!" Best two outta three!” Y/N bounces on her toes, her hair sticking out everywhere, catching the sun like some star.

Her cheeks are all red ‘cause she’s been laughing too hard, and her eyes are huge and serious like marbles are the most important thing ever.

I giggle, covering my mouth. “You’re so silly.”

She puffs out her chest. “Silly and ready to win!”

"But please-"

"Fine," I snap, snatching the stupid notes off the desk.

The edges crumple under my grip—oh no, how tragic. I toss her a glare for good measure.

Y/N just blinks, all wide eyes and calm. Ugh, hate that.

I start flipping through the notes, the edges rough against my fingers.

Her handwriting is infuriatingly neat—perfect loops, evenly spaced lines, no smudges.

It screams, I’ve got my shit together, which just makes me want to set it on fire.

I glance up. She’s watching me.

Of course she’s watching me.

Always with the staring.

“What?” I snap, holding the notes up like a shield. “See something fascinating?”

Her pen clicks. And clicks. And clicks. My eye twitches.

“I wasn’t staring,” she mutters. Her face? Red. Like I caught her.

“Sure. Right. Definitely just, what? Admiring the air?” I wave the notes in her direction. “Big fan of oxygen, huh?”

She exhales hard. Through her nose. Like I’m the annoying one. “Can we just focus?”

“Focus?” I bark out a laugh. “On this? Your little masterpiece? I’m riveted. Truly.” I flip a page, not even looking.

Her jaw tightens.

Oh, she’s pissed. “Yes. Focus. Maybe try it for once in your life.”

Ouch. That stings. A little. Barely. Not that I’d ever admit it. “Whatever,” I grumble, tossing the notes back onto the table like they’re cursed.

She grabs them. Doesn't even flinch. Slides a pen my way. Doesn’t say a word.

I glare at the pen.

It’s just... too perfect.

Too clean.

I hate how it sits there all polished, ready to be put to use. It’s like it’s begging to be ruined. What’s it even supposed to represent?

Control? Order?

Fuck.

But I reach for it anyway. “Fine,” I mutter, voice low. “Don’t expect a damn miracle.”

Her lips twitch. Is that a smile? No, it can’t be. Whatever.

The bell rings.

Noise explodes, everyone scrambling to grab their things, chattering, the rush of papers and bags flooding the room.

But I stay. For a moment, at least.

I can feel her eyes on me, even if I don’t look.

I’m still gripping that stupid pen like it’s something important.

Her words from earlier, they sit in my head, too quiet, too sharp. “Don’t expect miracles,” I had said, but it feels like she’s still waiting for something.

I glance at her once—just once. She’s putting her things away.

I stand up, slow, shoving my things into my bag.

Class around me seems to blur, like I’m moving through thick fog.

The air outside is different, cleaner. I need a break. I need space.

I slip through the crowded hallways, barely registering the sounds of people.

No one notices me.

Or maybe they do, but I don’t care. I make my way up to the roof, breathing a little easier the higher I go.

It’s quiet up here.

I pull out the joint I’ve been holding onto, light it, and take a drag, letting the smoke fill my lungs.

Everything feels better up here.

Like I can breathe again.

The weight of everything—class, Y/N, that fucking pen, all of it—starts to drift away, and I can finally relax.

Just for a minute.

I lean against the roof’s edge, watching the world below. The streets are a blur, just like everything else. Just like her.

I flick the ashes off the side and take another drag.

I sit on the edge, legs dangling off the side, watching everything from a distance.

The school below me is just a blur of colors, all of them blending together like they don’t matter.

It’s funny, how tiny the world looks from here. Even if my world is limited, it feels like I could stretch my arms out and touch everything.

Like I could just... float.

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Y/N

The bell rings, snapping me back to reality. The classroom slowly empties, the noise of students packing their bags and talking blending into a dull hum in the background. I remain seated for a moment longer than necessary, still caught in the aftershock of what just happened. My fingers gently tap the strap of my bag, my mind running through every word exchanged with Jinx, trying to make sense of it all.

“Y/N?” Mrs. Harrison’s voice cuts through my thoughts, warm and concerned. “Everything alright?”

I straighten up, meeting her gaze. “Yes, of course. I was just... thinking.”

She offers a kind smile, and I can’t help but return it. Mrs. Harrison always has this calming presence. “Don’t worry about it too much. You’ve been working hard. A little break won’t hurt.”

I nod, forcing my focus back to the present. I gather my things, my movements deliberate, smooth. I walk out of the classroom, a quiet sense of uncertainty hanging over me. The hallway is busier now, students rushing past, laughing and talking in groups. It’s all so loud, so... vibrant. I slow my pace, letting the noise wash over me, but I’m still lost in my thoughts.

The library is my sanctuary. Everything here is neat, quiet, predictable. The opposite of everything about... her. I step inside and let the hush settle over me, smoothing the frayed edges of my thoughts.

My shoes barely make a sound on the polished floor as I navigate the aisles. Rows of spines greet me like old friends. Austen. Brontë. Woolf. Names that speak of worlds where chaos still obeys rules, where stories wrap up neatly, unlike the frayed threads Jinx leaves behind.

I find my usual seat by the window—a table no one ever chooses because it’s too close to the radiator and too far from the popular fiction shelves. Perfect. I slip into the chair, the wood creaking faintly under my weight, and set my notebook down with care.

Opening it feels like opening a door. Everything is still and orderly here. My pen glides smoothly over the page, crafting lines of notes, phrases, sketches of ideas. Each one in its place. Each one exactly how I need it to be.

But then my hand falters. A thought intrudes, unwelcome: blue braids trailing like ribbons, boots scuffing, laughter that sounds like it’s daring the world to stop her. I shake my head, focus sharpening again as I scribble furiously, pen digging into the paper as if I can write her out of my mind.

The sunlight filters through the window, painting soft patterns on the table. The world outside is calm, orderly. Here, at least, I can pretend the storm hasn’t touched me.

Here, I can breathe.

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

authors note: thanks for reading chapter 3, chapter 4 will be coming in due time, I hope you've picked up on the dual writing style by now and how it varies by perspective, Jinx's is more sporadic, and fast paced whereas Y/N's is a bit more structured and slower.

please like and reblog :)

[aramynx]

BEWITCHED TOKOYAMI…

… who practically worships the ground you walk on as if you were some kind of deity

… who has been watching you from afar for a while, truly captured by your appearance

… who used you as a muse for his poetry, his perception of you written not-so-subtly throughout his works

… who never intended to ‘bother you’ with his feelings until dark shadow threatened to out him the next time you crossed paths

… who began leaving little organza bags of dried rose petals for you to find

… who eventually worked up the courage to bring you a single but perfect rose (alive) when he asked you on a date

… who compliments you in riddles that are too complicated to understand sometimes

… who continues to bring you single roses whenever he comes to see you, bringing whole, hand-crafted bouquets on special occasions

… who treasures you more than anything once you’re his, despite not preaching about it to the world

… who prefers your relationship to be private, but not secret

… who gets annoyed at dark shadow for interrupting romantic moments between you

… who can’t help but get flustered whenever you play with his chunky silver rings, since your hands feel so divine against his

… who vows to one day show you some of his poetry, well aware of the fact that he has a whole notebook full of passages relating to you

… who likes to take you out just before sunset so that he can make sure dark shadow doesn’t ruin the romantic atmosphere

… who, despite having a phone, chooses to write you love letters while away on long missions, which you keep safe in a box

… who takes good time to appreciate the way you feel with every hug, always running his hands up and down your back slowly

… who has to try and stop Hawks from interrogating you when he finds out you’re dating

… who loves to watch scary movies in the dark together

… who makes sure you’re always at least content when you’re together

… who still views you as his ethereal deity, and he would do anything for you

[baocean]

farmgirl!reader

farmgirl!reader who grew up just outside of town, on one hundred acres of farm land. who was a daddy's girl at heart, attached at the hip as soon as you could walk. wearing tutus and princess crowns, talking baby babble in john deer tractors as your daddy worked.

farmgirl!reader who always wore a beat-up cap low over your eyes and little braids woven into your hair, like you were halfway to church and halfway to a bonfire. you woke up with a rats nest for hair and mascara smudged from the night before and didn’t care. the kind of pretty that didn’t need fixing, just existed.

farmgirl!reader who had a soft spot for injured animals. once brought home a baby possum in your hoodie and tried to feed it cornbread. who let the dog sleep on the porch, the cat sleep in your bed, and kept a notebook full of things you would never say out loud under the seat of your truck.

farmgirl!reader who either listened to divorced dad rock and country music, or beach bum music. and no in between.

farmgirl!reader who took over your dad's worn down truck when you finally turned sixteen, and let it collect all your things. a bandana and a rosary hung over the rearview mirror, t-shirts and bikinis in the backseat. an old mug of coffee in the cup holder. surfboard and chunky blankets in the bed.

farmgirl!reader who used to be the sweet girl at the market in checkered dresses and dirt-scuffed boots. now, you were the story whispered between gas pumps and sunday sermons. the farm girl who grew up and got a little too good at causing trouble with those four pogues from town, always laughing too loud, always slipping away before anyone could catch you.

farmgirl!reader who jj maybank was fond of from day one. dragged to the farmers market by kie on a saturday, too early. but when he stopped by your stand just to get a closer look at you, heard that touch of southern accent, he was done for in three seconds flat.

farmgirl!reader who said “y’all” and “fixin’” like you were straight out of a country song. jj always teased you for it, until you told him to shut up or you'd leave his ass with a grin in your teeth. he never brought it up again, but he started saying “reckon” just to make you laugh.

farmgirl!reader whose dad hated jj. the kind of dad who'd clench his jaw whenever jj’s name came up, muttering about how "that boy's trouble" and "no good will come of him." but you just shrugged it off, like you didn't care.

farmgirl!reader who knew what it meant to work hard, your hands always a little rough from farm life, your heart always a little open to the world. you didn’t need a lot to be happy, just the simple things, like your dad’s truck, a stolen kiss from jj in the barn, and the feeling of the sun setting over your little slice of land.