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chaotic-mystery · 1 year

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Baby Doll |

༅ Pairing: Dbf! Joel Miller x f!reader

༅ Summary: You got a new tattoo, and Joel doesn’t know how to feel about it at first.

༅ Word Count: 1,605

༅ CW: SMUT 18+ unprotected p in v (Pls no babies wrap it), fingering, lots of nicknames, spitting, choking, roughness in general, talking you through orgasm, heavily implied age gap (reader in mid 20′s, Joel mid 40′s)

All of my dbf! Joel is pre-outbreak, but he’s not a father (I’m sorry!)

ꨄ Let me know what you think, feedback and comments are always welcomed as are requests/ ideas! ꨄ

My masterlist

The one thing Joel loved calling you was baby doll. He wasn’t sure where it came from, it just came out one day and you loved it. You loved the way it spilled from his mouth when he moaned, how it sounded when he was giving you a quick goodbye kiss so your dad didn’t see. How it sounded when he was half asleep and wondering if you were still laying there half awake. So when you were out with Joel one night, your fingers intertwined as you walked downtown, the neon lights from a tattoo shop flashed ahead of you and your eyes lit up instantly. “Should we?” You nodded towards the building, trying to coax the man inside. He laughed, not taking you seriously at all. “What would you even get?” You thought about it as you looked down at your hand in his, and met his eyes once more. “Baby Doll” flew out from your lips so confidently, he didn’t know what to say. “There’s no fuckin way you’d get that darlin. You’re too chicken shit to do somethin’ like that, you know your dad wouldn’t like it one bit.” You felt as if he was challenging you, and something inside you burned, you needed to prove him wrong. Joel had no idea what you were capable of doing. “We’ll see about that, Miller” you cooed as you walked away from the tattoo parlor, after you slyly typed their phone number from the window into your phone.

That’s how you ended up here in this moment, panicking when your dad asks why you won’t get into the pool. “I just got this pool put together, honey. You really don’t wanna swim?” Your face got hot, maybe because of the slowly setting sun or because you knew he’d have questions about the ink on your lower back and you don’t have the guts to tell him it’s a nickname his best friend calls you from time to time when you’re intimate.

“No, I'm good right now dad, thank you though!” You hollered back, trying to seem a little too ‘okay’. Joel sat next to you on the swing, you looked at him over your shoulder and told him you're going to get another beer from inside. “Alright baby, don’t get lost in there” He joked sarcastically which earned him a well deserved middle finger from you. The fridge was empty and it left you to be the one to refill it. As you bent over to restock the shelf, a hand gripped your ass cheek, causing you to gasp and drop the beer bottles in your hands. You turned fast to look behind you and there was Joel, standing there with his shirt half buttoned, covering his mouth to keep from laughing. “I’m sorry darlin’ I didn’t mean to scare you” You gave him a mock of his laughing and dryly said, “ Yeah I’m sure” Bending down to start cleaning the broken glass, Joel held the fridge door open for you so it didn’t keep hitting your backside when he let out a slight gasp, saying, “Sweet girl, what’s that on your back?”

Your eyes looked straight ahead like there was a camera there to catch your reaction, and you knew you were fucked. He wasn’t supposed to see it, not yet anyway. Just as you rose to your feet, your dad walked in, asking if everything was okay. “I heard some stuff breakin, just wanted to make sure you’re alright honey” You gave your dad a quick smile, reassuring you were fine. Joel however didn’t look fine. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. You couldn’t help but feel like you had the upper hand on him. Your shoulder brushed against his as you made your way back outside to your seat from earlier. You told him you’d do it, and he didn't believe you.

The night came to an end and you drove to Joels after leaving your dad, your bag to spend the night in the backseat of your car. He waited in his truck for you to arrive, walking in the house together. He hardly spoke to you since he saw the barbed wire heart tattoo on your backside with the words ‘Baby Doll’ inside of it in a really pretty gothic font. “Baby, I’m gonna go shower” you quietly told him, leaving a kiss against his scruffy cheek. The hot water beating down your back took your mind off everything from earlier. As you stood there with your arms crossed against your chest, you started wondering if it was a bad idea, doing that. You were pulled out of your thoughts when a hand had a fist full of your hair, pulling you towards a naked wet body. You whimpered out as you quickly found who’s chest you were flush against, his other hand over your mouth tightly. “You are fuckin crazy baby doll, do you realize that? Gettin that tattooed knowin your daddy’s gonna wonder who calls you that, ‘cause he sure doesn't” His voice purred in your ear, your eyes rolling back as you wiggled your ass against his growing cock. “Filthy fuckin’ girl. You got yourself branded with a name only I call you.” He tutted at you, his hand traveling from your mouth to your aching cunt. Your hand reached up behind you and into his dripping wet hair, moaning his name softly.

He was almost to your clit when he nibbled your earlobe, telling you, “Show me the tattoo for real this time. You wanna be a big girl and get it, can’t be afraid to show me.” He was right even if you didn’t want to admit it. You scooted forward, letting him run his finger over it. He was quiet, which meant he either loved it, or he thought it looked bad. A groan came from him when he grabbed you and pinned you against the shower wall. “It’s a pretty tattoo, sugar, real pretty. You amaze me more and more everyday.” He abruptly connected his lips onto yours, his fingers latching onto your clit. You moaned in his mouth as you turned your face from him, wrapping your arms around his neck tighter as your needy clit was finally being paid attention to.

Joel dipped his head to put a nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue over it before biting gently. You could’ve cum all over his hand right then and there had he kept that up. He knew how sensitive your nipples were and how it makes you want to go crazy. Joel let go of your nipple after teasing and sucking on it, seeing he had you right where he needed you. He grabbed your face roughly, his forehead meeting yours “You’re truly all mine, you get that? You won’t ever forget with that on your body, crazy girl. Fuck me, you’re so wet. Open your mouth” His hand never moved as you opened wide, not knowing what he was doing. He did something new, he spit in your mouth.

He spit in your fucking mouth and moaned as he put his cock inside you. The water pooling at your feet lightly, the droplets beating over his shoulder. “You’re such a good girl, I knew you’d like that” He praised as he sloppily kissed your jaw, trailing up and down your neck. He pumped into you, whimpering your name. “Fuck baby doll, how am I ‘sposed to last when you’re so fuckin tight for me? You don’t know how bad I wanted to fuck you right there at that fridge baby. Crazy girl got my nickname for her tattooed right above her ass, so I can see it every time I fuck this pretty hole” Joel knew what exactly to say to get you undone and become a horny slut for him. Your moans mixed deliciously, a deadly combination sometimes. “Joel I’m close baby keep going-fuck, don’t stop” You rolled your hips opposite of him and played with your nipples, giving a pinch as Joel went deeper and was hitting that one spot that ends you every time. Your legs started to move closer together, your body on the brink of bliss. Joel grunted, feeling your walls squeeze around him. “Yeah cum for me like a good girl, sweetheart. Play with that pretty pussy, don't stop until you cum” He grunted as he put your hand on your clit, thrusting harder.

You couldn’t focus, it was all too much and you released all over him, screaming his name as your free hand found his hair and pulled with each wave of orgasm. Your mouth on his and he drank your moans, giving his to you. “Fuck I-I’m gonna cum darlin” Joel tossed his head back with a few more thrusts, he shoots his load into you, your name mixed with curses. You got down on your knees, sucking all your mixed juices off him. He leaned against the wall, groaning louder with each head bob you did. “You nasty little girl, tryna milk me dry. I’m fuckin empty, I left every last drop of cum inside your pretty little pussy that belongs to me, sweet heart.” He watched intently as you slapped his half hard tip on your tongue and chuckled before he helped you up. You finished your shower before Joel and told him to hurry up. Dried off and clothed, you sat at the kitchen table as you waited for him. He came down shortly afterwards, dressed and looking slutted out. “Ready for round two?” you playfully asked, and all he managed was, “Shut up, baby doll.”

#dbf! joel smut #dbf!joel miller #dbf joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlou hbo #dbf!joel #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #dbf! joel x f!reader

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lunaviee · 1 year

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can i request where reader cant go to their match and they got angry which makes them say the word "i shouldve invite *ex's name*, she wouldve come." and reader reaction can be up to you! with rin and maybe chigiri? thank you so much and please stay hydrate! sending loves <33

OHHH MYYY GODDD ANONNN……..

the way i gasped so loud when i saw this OMGOMG

okay so, idk if you’re wanting PURE ANGST for this but like i’ll add fluff at the end anyway bc the more the merrier😇😁😁

OKAY SO UMM..i’m a procrastinator, it’s no secret. so uhh chigiris will be posted when i remember to work on it, sorry😭

“are you serious?” “you’re..kidding, right?”

chigiri hyoma and rin itoshi x reader (seperate) click here for chigiri’s

tags/warnings: angst to comfort, swearing, arguing, NOT PROOFREAD…

synopsis: if he’s so insistent on you being there to support him, why doesn’t he do the same?

a/n: i am SO SORRY this took so long </3 i got busy but this request is soo..chefs kiss i hope i did it justice😓

RIN ITOSHI—

the faint mumbles from the tv filled rin’s apartment as you made a quick snack to eat, knowing your boyfriend should be home any minute. you sat down on the couch to eat, turning the tv volume up as background noise while you looked out the window. it faced a gorgeous view of your city, along with a nice view of the sunset.

after some time, you were back in the kitchen to clean up a bit.

*click*

the jingling of keys indicated rin was home, a tad later that usual but you payed no mind to it.

“hey,” you smiled, “welcome home, how was practice?” arms wrapping around his neck as he set his bag down, taking his shoes off. his arm snaked around your waist to pull you closer to him, planting a kiss on your temple.

“eh, same as always. those lukewarm lunatics don’t know what they’re doing”

you hummed in response, rin pulling away from you to look you in the eye. he spoke again. “we have a game in a few days. you’re going, right?” it sounded more like a demand than a question.

“oh uh about that” you broke eye contact, a twinge of nervousness tainted your face. “i was given an extra shift at work so i’ll be swamped, i don’t think i’ll be able to make it, sorry”

his before softened gaze now pierced right through you, full of annoyance. “really? i thought you’d want to come to my games.” his arms left your torso and flopped to his side, lower back resting on the counter.

“i do! i always do..rin you know this, i go to your games when i can but lately i’ve just been more busy an-” you rambled.

he cut you off, “quit the excuses.”

“excuse me?” you replied, shocked at how his silver tongue was so quick to interrupt you.

“i get it. you’re busy. you don’t have to make up these half-baked excuses and try to make me feel better.” he moved from the counter, straightening his back and showing his full height, looking down on you as if you were less than him at that moment.

“excuses? rin, what the hell are you talking about? i’m being serious.” confusion swirled in your mind, what was up with him??

“you know, i never had these problems with *ex’s name*. she was always happy to come to my games. no excuses, no lies. every game, she was there. why can’t you be like that?” rin’s venom stained words singed into your brain, glints of annoyance pooled in his eyes. a twinge of guilt settled in his gut the minute those words spilled out of his mouth, but he payed no mind to it.

“what?” your eyes widened in disbelief, “are you fucking serious?”

how could he say that? sure, rin was petty and used bitter language when he was upset, but comparing you to his ex? that was a new low, even for him. after all of the crap you two talked about when mentioning both of your exes in the past, you’d assume he’d want absolutely nothing to do with her. right?

“why wouldn’t i be?” not once did his gaze leave your figure, was he serious? “she actually took my career seriously.”

you were beyond shocked, eyes narrowing as your brows knitted together. “invite her then.” you retorted. “maybe i will, maybe then i’ll have someone who actually supports me there.” he scoffed.

his words made your blood boil, eye twitching before you spoke again, “get out.” you gritted through your teeth, fingers fiddling with the hem of your (his) sweater as to not lose your cool.

“what?” he scoffed, not expecting such a response (he really should have, what was he thinking??)

“did i fucking stutter? or is your skull too thick to hear what i have to say. get. out.”

the strikers face further scrunched, yet not moving an inch. “this is my apartment. if you’re upset, then leave.” he brushed past you without a single regret as to what he had said, not entirely believing you’d actually leave, where else did you have to go?

“fine then.” you slipped your shoes on while dialing a number on your phone before slamming the door, leaving the rin to sit with his thoughts. you had much, much more to say, but the thought of having to stay in the same vicinity as you made your stomach churn.

who did you call? why, your best friend of course, who else would you trust with this information. sure, rin’s teammates weren’t bad people to open up to, but you needed someone who could understand your feelings through angry sobs and incoherent mumbles.

it was only a matter of time before you were sat on yours friends bed, angry tears burning your cheeks as you rambled on about how dumb your boyfriend was.

“break up with him” your friend mumbled, only half joking. “me personally, i wouldn’t stay with a man, nah, a BOY who brings up his ex when he’s mad..”

you lifted your head from the tear stained pillow to meet your friend’s gaze. “yeah but……ugh i hate when you’re right” your sentence ending with a laugh

“i’m kidding..kind of” she sneered “either way, screw him, ghost his ass until he comes crying at your doorstep”

“what??” you shot up from your position, now almost on top of your friend. she was faced you, a more serious expression painting her face

“seriously though, you shouldn’t have to deal with that shit [n/n], he has the be the one to apologize.” you nodded in response, good thing your friend had a bit more common sense than you did in that moment.

“yeah, you’re right, thanks”

“any time, now do you wanna stay here or are you good to go home?”

“i’ll stay here and bug you more”

“okay then” she laughed out, the two of you now laying on the bed on your backs, staring at the ceiling

• { time skip - two days later } •

the radio silence that came from rin was like torture, did he not care? not a single text or phone call, not even a message given from one of his teammates. it was hard to stay positive.

sure, he deserved the silent treatment, but he was your boyfriend. his company single-handedly made your days better. being separated because of a fight that he didn’t want to resolve was stupid.

your friend tried taking you out today to get your mind off of the situation. it was going well, up until you walked into your favorite cafe.

you were met with a face you were too familiar with. rin’s. his eyes widened in disbelief and he twitched, almost as if he was about to run after you. and so you and your friend took one good look at him and immediately left. if the argument was going to be resolved, it wasn’t going to be in a public cafe.

your friend pushed you by the shoulders as you both shuffled out of the doors, you pulling out your phone to find another place to go to at the same time.

“shit.” was the only thing that rin had managed to mutter out as he saw the two of you running away from the cafe. it’s not that he wanted to avoid you. it’s that he was ashamed. he was scared that nothing he would say would amount to enough of an apology for what he said.

rin was scared that this was the end of you two. his worst fears of losing the one person he knew loved and understood him were coming true and is was his fault. the past few days were filled with doubt and regret, his teammates even noticing his practices were depleting.

the rest of the day came and went, your friend dropped you off back at your apartment where you collapsed on the couch, left with your thoughts once again. you were about to just pass out on your couch and ditch work the next morning, like you have been for the past few days.

that was until you heard a frantic knock on your door, jolting you awake. your worried expression dropped to one of annoyance and bitterness; it was rin. but, he looked different. his usually blank expression was now one of exhaustion and hurt.

he’d been..crying?

your eyes widened in confusion, you opened your mouth to tell him to leave before he cut you off.

“i’m sorry” he blurted out

he was looking down to you, except it was much different than before. rin looked desperate, his eye contact only further confirmed it.

he reached his hand out to place it on your shoulder, hesitating. you opened the door to let him in, sitting on the edge of your couch next to each other.

“i’m so sorry [name].”

“i know.”

“it was stupid, you mean so much to me and i..i ruined it.”

“i know.”

“please, you don’t need to forgive me now i just…”

he paused. rin’s head moved to look at the ground.

“i just need to know you won’t leave me. you can ignore me for as long as you’d like and i’d understand. but just…please i need you back” he begged, small tears brimming at his eyes, what a rare sight to see.

silence fell between the two of you, but it wasn’t like the comfortable silences you’ve shared before. it was tense and awkward.

“okay” your voice was barely above a whisper, “i won’t leave you, i think we both know that” you say with a smile.

rin looked back up at you, eyes wide, full of hope and relief.

“but listen i…” the moonlight only further highlighted just how much the two of you had been crying

“it’s gonna take some time. that was really fucked up, you know that?”

“yeah..yeah i know. i’m sorry. you’re nothing like her i-”

“i know.”

the two of you were now looking at each other, faces flushed from crying and relief. the silence was comfortable again.

“let’s just..go to sleep, yeah? we can talk about it in the morning, i think we both could discuss better afterwards” you offered, leaning closer to the armrest of your couch as you were too tired to go to your bed

rin hummed back in response, laying on your chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist. your hands found their way to his hair, heartbeats practically synchronizing.

“you know..i’m still not going to your game” you whispered, peeking one eye open to watch your boyfriend. he smiled, “i know” a laugh spilled out of his mouth before you both fell asleep.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #angst #comfort #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #bllk rin #✩ vie writes

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strawberrystepmom · 9 months

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repost - nsfw. cw alcohol, cw marking. f!reader, gojo and reader are in an established relationship.

The morning feels almost painfully bright as you lift your hand to your eyes to shield them with a defeated groan. Your temples pound and your eyelids still feel heavy, certain you could sleep for longer if you wanted to but the bedroom curtains are open, fresh warm light pouring across the bed.

You feel around your suspiciously empty bed before reaching to grab your phone and glancing at the time. 9:32. You’re supposed to be meeting Kento and a few of your other friends for brunch in two hours, a thought that makes your temples pound again, and your boyfriend is nowhere to be found. Closing one eye and keeping one open, you sit halfway up before flopping back down onto your disheveled pillows.

“Baby?”

Your mouth is dry and your voice rasps while pathetically calling out for Satoru who pops his head out from around the door frame with a smile so beautiful it hurts almost as much as the brightness surrounding you. He’s naked, of course, and your cheeks flame despite having lived this exact moment more times than you can count.

“Good mornin’, sunshine.”

Opening your eyes fully to take in the always welcome sight of his natural, nude form while he strides toward the bed, a gasp leaves you as your eyes fall on the purplish bruises around his neck and chest.

He chuckles, flopping down onto the bed and resting the back of his head on your thigh. Tipping his head back you see a pink bite mark on the column of his throat and embarrassment boils in your gut remembering exactly how that got there.

“You have to heal those before we leave,” your voice sounds not merely raspy and pathetic but whiny now as you reach down and stroke the damp strands of his hair off of his forehead. He has obviously been awake long enough to have showered, there’s no reason why he should not have already used his reverse cursed technique to fix himself up.

“That’s not what you were saying last night, princess,” he flips onto his stomach but places his cheek to your thigh so he can watch your reaction to everything he says. You’re never more his than when he’s flustering you and he likes to see the fruits of his labor. “I seem to remember something along the lines of ‘fuck I can’t stop’ and ‘you’re mine’ but correct me if I’m wrong.”

You simply cannot correct him because he isn’t wrong.

The evening started with opening a bottle of wine and pouring two glasses - one for you and one to sit in front of Gojo to keep him from feeling left out that would inevitably be finished by you.

After that, the memories of last night become tinted with the hungry haze of want. Heat in your belly, heat in your chest, heat through all of your limbs - the wine took over quicker than it usually does but he would be a silly man to complain about being wanted like a predator craves her prey.

You climbed into his lap on the couch and rode him until your thighs shook, his face pressed against the side of your neck and the beautiful plushness of your ass spilling through his fingers while he kept you steady.

This wasn’t enough to sate you, though and he knew it. You were already whining and begging for more before he could even soften inside of you.

“Starting to think I’ve spoiled you,” he tutted while standing and helping you wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him inside of you for the short trek back to your bedroom. It took him only a moment to place your back on the bed, his big hands spreading your thighs and his tongue flattening over your open, warm, wet cunt until pure fire coursed through your veins.

“Satoru,” you whined, pulling his body down until his chest pressed against your tits and you nuzzled your face in his neck. “Still want you, baby.”

Burying your face against his neck, you began to suck little bruises into his soft skin, biting little visual reminders of your love for him into his body. He didn’t even have to fuck you again to cum, instead spilling all over your stomach as you growled various delirious chants about him belonging to you and wanting to make sure everyone knew it.

The memory makes your thighs squeeze together with want, your tipsy haze forcing you to speak the truth that lives in your heart, but you look down at him again, a necklace of purple across his skin and you whine.

“Please,” you beg. “They already think I’m a degenerate.”

Satoru smirks, wiggling further up the bed to rest his cheek on your bare stomach and inch his fingers up your side. He isn’t the slightest bit embarrassed about the swath your lust left across him, if anything it’s the proudest thing he has ever worn, but he’ll let you have your way yet again. Denying anything you ask for just simply isn’t in him even if you do end up a little overindulged.

“You are,” he raises his eyebrows suggestively and you scoff, “but I’ll let you pick which one stays because I’m a nice guy.”

He slides further up your body until his chin rests on your bare tits, big hands cupping each of them and making you hiss through your teeth. He presses them together with a pout, looking up at you through his lashes.

“Don’t let your hard work go to waste.”

You lift your hand and run your index finger down his neck and collarbone, or at least what you can see of it, before stopping on the one you think he can hide the most. The bite mark on his neck. He feels the pad of your fingertip linger over the spot and smiles, releasing your breast from one of his hands to wrap his fingers around yours.

“How’d you know that’s my favorite one?”

Giggling, you shake your head and try to pull your finger out of his grip but he only tightens it playfully. You tug with an exaggerated groan and he lets go, letting his hand drop to your side where he tickles your ribs once and sits up. The bruises begin to fade in a second and you laugh despite having seen him do this dozens of times.

There’s something so specifically surreal about a man who can heal his own bruises insisting he sport the indentation of your teeth on his skin, the mark pearly and pink even this morning. You can’t fault him for wanting to show off how badly you want him at least a little bit, knowing you’ve done the same on more than one occasion.

It feels special to be wanted by him and it’s near ecstasy to be needed.

By the time you rise from the bed yourself, wobbly but otherwise fine, he is looking the same as he always does and relief washes over you as you head toward the shower.

As predicted, three cross glances are directed at you after you sit down, each of your friends catching the way Satoru has kept his shirt unbuttoned just enough to make sure the bite mark is completely visible to anyone who would dare to look.

#kendall writes #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoken #cw alcohol #cw marking

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onceuponastory · 2 months

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twelve minutes - bucky barnes x reader

But for now we stay so far 'Til our lonely limbs collide I can't keep you in these arms So I'll keep you in my mind - you and i by PVRIS

Plot: Almost a year after their breakup, Y/N sees Bucky Barnes again. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (past) Warnings: Mentions of a breakup and heartbreak, angst without a happy ending. Bucky being a shitty boyfriend. As always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know! Notes: So You and I by PVRIS, one of my favourite songs ever, turned 8 on Friday, and I had to write another fic for it to celebrate (please ignore I'm a few days late) so here we are!

Not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

One night, Y/N stands outside the Avengers tower in the cold New York air. A chilly wind blows, and she shivers. She can still hear the party inside, the muffled music and laughter. Maybe she should just go inside? Isn't that better than being out here, alone and in the cold?

But just as she’s about to turn back, she shakes her head. She didn’t even want to come tonight. Although the Avengers are still her friends, a party attended by her ex, Bucky Barnes, was not the ideal way to spend her night. But Natasha whined and begged for her to come, promising her she’d have a good time and it wouldn’t be that awkward. Unfortunately, it was just as awkward as Y/N expected. In fact, it was worse.

Sure, people still spoke to her, but she could tell they all had one question on their lips, one she was not willing to answer: "So, when are you and Bucky getting back together?"

And so, Y/N left. She types on her phone, ordering an Uber to take her home. Sighing, she wraps her jacket around herself as another chilly wind blows. Soon, she’ll be home and can eat her sorrows in ice cream.

“Leaving so soon?” A familiar voice asks. One that Y/N was hoping not to hear tonight.

“Hey Bucky.” He looks different from the last time she saw him, almost a year ago, now. Just over ten months, in fact. Not that she’s counting or anything. He’s bulkier, no doubt an effect of Steve’s constant early morning runs. Each time he left their bed, he promised to come back, kissing her cheek softly. Even now, her skin tingles just thinking about it. Bucky smiles, brushing some of his longer hair out of his face.

He looks good.

He looks great, actually. She can’t deny it - he still looks as attractive ever. Deep down, something registers in her gut. It’s a strong, passionate longing feeling, the same one she used to have whenever she thought of Bucky. One that she thought disappeared a long time ago. But seeing him now is reigniting that feeling. Desperately, she tries to bury it.

“Good to see you again.” He murmurs, a sign that he’s feeling just as awkward as she is. After all, how often do you run into your ex at a party you didn’t even want to go to? “Nat never said you were coming.” He looks around, a brow raised. “Where’s that boyfriend of yours? She said he’s a lawyer.” Of course she fucking did. She’s going to kill her next time she sees her. “Can’t imagine he’d pass up a moment to spend time with you.”

“We um. We broke up. Well, he dumped me for his secretary, actually. So… yeah.” She’s immediately embarrassed, not meaning to spill her heartbreak to anyone, let alone Bucky fucking Barnes, her ex of all people. Honestly, part of her reasoning for coming tonight and hopefully dragging Harry along with her was to make Bucky jealous, show him that their breakup wasn’t affecting her that badly.

And look how well that turned out.

But her wounds are still raw. Perhaps, after suppressing her feelings for so long, she simply needed to release and express her frustration and pain to someone. And Bucky just happens to be the one she’s letting it out to, the welcome respite she’s needed for so long. That's how things used to be between them. Whenever something was wrong, Y/N and Bucky relied on each other for comfort. They would spend hours in each other’s arms, talking about their problems until they felt better. Y/N still aches for that comforting grasp, even now.

But now, things are different. Including her and Bucky.

Especially her and Bucky.

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” He sighs. “I’ve fucked up, haven’t I?”

“It’s okay.” She lies, but knows that if she dwells on it too long, she’ll start sobbing in front of him. Her chest tightens in an all too familiar way. This is what people like Bucky Barnes do. They come into your life and leave a mark. Once they’re gone, you work so hard to heal yourself and make a new life, and then they come back in and destroy everything all over again. And she won’t put herself through that again.

“Looking back on it now, we just weren’t a good fit. Or at least, he didn’t like me as much as I liked him.” The heat on her cheeks deepens, as if she’s embarrassed to admit falling in love with and getting her heart broken by someone like her ex. To admit that she subjected herself to so much pain and heartbreak yet again. But thankfully, Bucky doesn’t mention it.

“Honestly, it’s his loss. You deserve better.”

“Thanks.” And again, silence envelops them. She wonders if he’ll start talking about their breakup, or continue ignoring the enormous elephant in the room. And honestly…. she doesn’t know which she’d rather have. To lay everything out in the open, or just ignore it all again, pretending everything is fine. When her eyes drift back to him, he’s not looking at her anymore, and despite how angry she was at Bucky for what happened, and how much she likes to kid herself that she doesn’t care about Bucky anymore, it still stings.

Deep down, she wants him to want her, like she wants him. To still want her, even now.

“Can we talk?” He asks suddenly. She already hates the idea of being forced to spend time with another ex so soon after losing another relationship, but there’s not much else she can do. And honestly…. She misses Bucky a lot.

“Sure. You have….” she peers down at her phone screen, the light illuminating the space. “Twelve minutes.” Bucky raises a brow.

“Twelve? That’s very… specific.” He chuckles awkwardly. Y/N doesn’t laugh.

“It’s how long until my Uber arrives.”

“Oh.” There’s disappointment lacing his tone, which Y/N picks up on. She stares at him, waiting for his response. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what happened between us.”

“Okay. Me too.” She nods. Bucky raises a brow.

“...That’s it? Y-You’re not going to say anything?”

“What can I say? You said that you’re sorry for how it ended, and so am I.” She shrugs. “There’s no point in beating ourselves up, Bucky. We just never worked out. You were always too busy, and after a while I just stopped waiting for you. The fights got too much, and we just stopped loving one another.” Honestly, she never stopped loving him. But it’s better to lie and tell him that the feeling is mutual than waste all her tears on someone who actually stopped loving her. She stopped being important to him and was no longer the key priority in his life. Missions were his priority, followed by dinners, drinks, and world trips with teammates - things she stopped being invited to. As an Avenger, he can't refuse to save the world, but she thought she mattered to him. Realising she didn't hurt her deeply.

So one day, she decided enough was enough, and… it was over. And she’s missed him terribly since then.

“You really think I stopped loving you?” Bucky frowns. There’s a strange mix of guilt and accusation in his tone. Y/N nods. “Well, I didn’t. I never stopped.”

Y/N gasps, and his revelation makes her heart pound. What if this is a good sign? A chance for them to make things right? “I thought you did. I thought you stopped caring.” For a moment, she wonders how he’ll react, if he’ll take her into his arms again, and whisper sweet nothings. Maybe they’ll finally make things right.

Instead, he turns defensive. “I didn’t. And it’s not all my fault, you know. I did try to make it home to you, but you didn’t understand how busy I was sometimes.” He snaps, sending a fresh strike of pain through her already damaged heart and destroying all hope she ever had of them rekindling their relationship..

“You had a funny way of showing it.” She retorts, rolling her eyes. Anger flows through her veins, overtaking her last shred of guilt. Why is it her who has to fix things first? To be the villain, the one who has to admit that they’re in the wrong? Angry and bitter tears sting at her eyes. “But yeah, whatever. It’s my fault our relationship fell apart.”

Immediately, Bucky regrets his words. “Look, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry.” He hates that this is what they’ve come to now, unable to speak to one another without anger, bitterness and hurt feelings. But maybe this is a chance to make things right? A whole twelve…well, probably ten minutes, now. “And I’m sorry if it seemed I wasn’t trying hard enough. I loved you a lot.” He sighs. “I still do.”

“I never stopped either.” She admits, and Bucky’s eyes widen.

“Really?” He gasps. “W-Well, do you wanna get a drink somewhere? Or some dinner?”

“Wait.” She raises a hand, cutting him off. She sighs. “Not tonight.”

“Tomorrow? I’ll wait. We can go whenever you want.” He urges. But Y/N just can’t ignore the feeling deep inside her, of guilt and apprehension. What if she lets him back in and it happens all over again? If she gives him all of her heart and gets it back broken, yet again? She’s already been through two heartbreaks in this lifetime, and she can’t go through that pain again.

Especially not one caused by Bucky.

“I’m sorry. I can’t.” She whispers, biting her bottom lip. Bucky frowns, confused.

“What do you mean? W-Why not?”

“Because I can’t do this again.” She whimpers, her voice cracking. “Our break up destroyed me, and I’ve just been through another one. Another break up between us would actually finish me off.” She shakes her head. “Maybe one day we can talk…but not now.”

Bucky opens his mouth, ready to speak. But he nods. “I understand.” He sighs. He keeps his gaze on her, his blue eyes imploring and hopeful. Suddenly, the sound of an engine approaches. Y/N sighs. “Guess my twelve minutes are up.” Bucky chuckles nervously.

“Goodnight Bucky.” She says, getting into the car and closing the door. He watches her go, looking crestfallen. She looks out of the window, locking eyes with him.

“You okay?” The driver asks. “Need a minute?” Y/N’s heart aches, and her chest aches.

“No.” she murmurs. “You can keep driving.” And then they pull away, and Bucky fades into the distance.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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kakujis · 1 year

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if i could just get my hands on you.

feat: bonten!mikey, kokonoi, kakucho, + sanzu. i really wanted to put the haitani brothers in but i cant think of anything rn ;-;. afab! reader x bonten.

a/n: this probably, most definitely ooc bc lets be real they would most likely not hold back(unless ur kakucho) but this was self indulgent for me!

warnings: i say “maybe” a lot. face-fucking (kokonoi), voyeurism + panty!! stealer!! kakucho my beloved!!!, a bit of angst, drug mentions/usage(sanzu), squint and there’s some yan, oral f! receiving(sanzu). minors dni.

manjiro sano always gets what he wants. it doesn't matter if it's something as simple as taiyaki or becoming the most notorious gang in japan. every request is met with a "yes, sir.” but for some reason, mikey, just can't have you. his pretty receptionist. he’s not entirely sure why he doesn't just order you into his room, bullying his way into your tight cunt and fucking you dumb. maybe it's the way you always smile at him, even as he's just ordered sanzu to kill the three rival gang grunts begging for their lives off-site. or maybe it's the way you make him his tea every morning, doing your best to make sure its just right and none of it spills. you're so sweet to him and yet every time he touches you, he feels the way you stiffen. the way you begin to tremble when he gets too close. he thinks you shine brighter than the sunlight that peeks through the curtains onto his desk. perhaps, there is still a piece of the old mikey left, because he just can't bring himself to hurt you. so instead, he fucks the next whore that sanzu throws at him wishing it was you.

due to his massive amount of wealth, kokonoi hajime, loves to spoil his girls. anything they want, he gives, as long as he gets what he wants in return. which means face-fucking them until he shoots his load down each one of their throats, throwing them away until he calls them up again with another tempting wad of cash and the promise of luxury. you walked in on him once, trying to fulfill one of mikey’s orders. a small gasp left your mouth once you realized what was happening. you shut your eyes, immediately apologizing and slamming the door. after that incident kokonoi wanted you to see him again. he’d think about it every time he shoved his cock deep into one of his playthings. would you run away again? probably. or maybe, you'd join in and beg him to take you next. he'd like that, he thinks, as he slams into one of his girls, a bit frustrated that her moans and wails were doing nothing for him. ah, if only he had the guts to ask mikey if he'd want a new receptionist.

kakucho is in love with you. every morning, he waits to hear you greet him. and every night, he waits for you to take his blood stained coat off and welcome him home. unfortunately for him, you do that for all of them. bonten's little maid, who runs around the base tending to each and every one of them. sure, they have the money and the access to all the top doctors in japan, but most of the time you're enough. as japan's top gang, no one really ever stands a chance against them in a fight and anyone who does is promptly shot. he feels so guilty, stroking himself with your used undies, outside your bathroom door. he drinks in your sweet voice as you hum a familiar tune, his little songbird. he desperately wishes he could slip inside your shower, your back arching against his chest, fingers sinking deep into your cunt. he imagines kissing you to swallow your moans, hand coated in your slick as he fucks you thoroughly on his fingers. ever so gently, he’d ease you onto his aching dick, feeling the flutter of your plush walls. he thinks you’d look so beautiful, more than usual, being bounced on his cock, water running down your body. he climaxes quickly once he hears the water switch off, stuffing your soiled panties into his pocket. he hopes you won’t notice this is your third missing pair.

sanzu haruchiyo needs you to need him. its only fair considering how badly he needs you. when he finds himself slipping from reality or sobering up from a bad trip, your voice always calls out to him. “sanzu… sanzu?” he blinks, your fuzzy form bringing some much needed company. as he continues sobering up, you always bring a cup of water to his lips, coaxing him to drink. it’s mind numbingly sweet the way you swipe at his scarred mouth when some liquid drips. you always dim the lights as well, not wanting to overstimulate him as he sobers up. if he wasn’t so fucked up he’d probably pounce on you then, ripping your clothes to shreds as he dives face first into your pussy. sanzu wants to feel the tug on his pink locks, envisioning how you would desperately grind on his face inching closer and closer to completion. what he would give to taste you just one time, to be completely soaked in your juices. he could probably eat you out for hours, licking and sucking on your poor puffy clit. maybe he’d tongue fuck you next, ignoring your pleas and overstimming you until you’re a trembling mess on his bed. but those are just dreams and by the time he’s grounded in reality, you’re gone, back to mikey’s office.

#tokyo revengers #tokrev #tokyo revengers smut #manjiro sano smut #sanzu haruchiyo smut #kokonoi hajime smut #kakucho hitto smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #pibby writing #kakucho x reader #manjiro sano x reader #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #kokonoi hajime x reader

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siriusblackloml · 6 months

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Day 9 - Remus Lupin (Kinktober 2023)

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 700+

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: swearing, breeding kink (this is not proofread) MDNI (18+)

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist┊Day 10

The clothes are being ripped from your body so fast you barely have any time to realize it. Naked, you lie on the bed underneath Remus. He hungrily attacks your neck with kisses as his hand trails up and down your thighs. His fingers are dangerously close to your cunt that is already soaking wet. It’s only a matter of time before they’re pushing past your lips and stretching you out so that you’ll be able to fit his cock. Well, barely fit it, anyway. You could have sworn he was bigger around this time of the month.

He gets much needier, you’ve noticed. In the years you have been together with Remus, when he is approaching that time of the month where he transfigures, he focuses on practically nothing other than abusing your hole. He’s always rougher than usual; he slams himself into you at a force you didn’t know was humanly possible. At times, he is able to rut into your cunt faster than you’ve ever felt before. It always has you pushed over the edge in a matter of minutes.

Not only is he fast with fucking you, but he’s quick on his feet to get you undressed, too. Tonight is no different; he has you completely nude on top of his length before you can comprehend anything, muttering swear words under your breath from the sheer force of Remus ramming his gigantic cock inside you. You can’t help but throw your head back in satisfaction of his member stretching you out so widely. It was painful, but you welcomed it with a smile on your face. You moan softly, “Yes, yes, yes, fuck I love your big cock, Remmy!”

You’d been trying to ride your boyfriend for the last five minutes or so, but you quickly realized that it was just too much to handle. Your hips started to slow down so he knew he had to pick up the slack. The way he started to pile drive into your pussy from below was extremely impressive, but also downright tiring. It wasn’t long before your legs were quaking from the intensity of it all.

His hips snap up into your own, creating a loud squelching sound over and over again thanks to how wet you are. Remus mumbles in a husky voice, “Love this pussy, baby. Can’t get over the way you squeeze my cock, feels so fucking good.”

Your body grew tired very quickly. You opted for simply laying down on his chest. This allowed Remus to better angle his legs to fuck into you harder, deeper, and rougher. Your voice cracks over the multiple moans and groans that spill from your lips. “Fuck! Right there! Fuck my pussy!”

Suddenly, Remus’s deep moans start to turn into whispers in your ear. Still slamming himself inside you, he murmurs, “I can’t stop thinking about breeding your wet pussy, darling.”

You had no idea that he would say anything like this tonight. While Remus pivots inside of you, your thinking feels hazy. The only honest response you can summon is a whimper, despite your desire to do otherwise. The way he looks at you alone is causing you to firmly tighten around his length. But you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t want it.

You nod your head shamelessly, whispering, “Please give it to me. Need you to fill me up.”

Remus can feel the moisture seeping down his thighs and throbbing around his manhood as it comes out of your hole. Your words alone cause his breathing to become unsteady. He mumbles, "Gonna give you lots of cum, honey. Want to see it- fuck, I want to see it pour out of your pretty pussy."

Remus's hands fly to the fat of your thighs, grabbing you with such sudden vigor that it makes the knot in your gut tighten even more as you let your body fall forward. You’re laying on his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart as he continues to thrust inside you. You mewl loudly, “P-Please, want your cum so bad! Fuck my pussy!”

His thrusts make his member repeatedly brush against your special spot, making your cunt tingle with pleasure. You're a whiny mess in an instant. Your body goes into spasms of joy and soon after, Remus starts to fall apart, too.

He's pushed over the brink just by feeling your tightness around him. He inserts his member as far as possible inside you. His hips stall and you feel the throb of his member and he dumps his seed inside you. Your mind feels like it is on cloud nine from the overexcitement, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

TAGLIST: @calmspencer, @baddiebbarbietngz, @slytherclaw1978, @serendipitous-fernweh, @pandanation24, @rachelreallyroars, @tinafuentes, @chvmpion-jack, @ethereallovr, @godknows-shetried, @waggoth, @ellieswhor3, @wildestdreamers-tv, @faefaes-world, @hahahafucku, @delusional-13s-blog

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober harry potter #harry potter kinktober #kinktober siriusblackloml #remus lupin smut #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n

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mydearesthrry · 9 months

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mydearesthrry masterlist ❥

hi bffs!! im jules and welcome to my masterlist <3 i write for harry styles and tasm/mcu peter parker and range from different aus! my requests and asks are always open unless stated otherwise, so feel free to send in anything here!

if you do choose to request something please do keep in mind the normal restrictions, and if u want something specific feel free to specify! all my work has been written from july 23’-present!!

{tags for fic recs: faves under holy grail • harry styles under h fic rec, h nsfw • charles leclerc & lando norris under 16 & 4 respectively • peter parker under peter <3}

**i do not condone any reposting of my work!!** if any links r broken shoot me a message or an ask and ill fix it asap!!

please enjoy my work, i love u and thank u thank u thank u sm for supporting me <3

—————

❥ - denotes fluff

✮ - denotes angst

✿ - denotes smut

✧ - reader favorites (over 600+ notes)

—————

harry styles <3

— oneshots —

trinkets on tour ❥✧

↬ in which you collect things from all of the tour stops, and harry loves you. (1.3k words)

harry’s house home ❥✮✧

↬ you miss harry, and he misses you even more. (2.1k) [1k+ notes]

obvious ❥✧

↬ when harry just can’t understand what you’re talking about, and he’s also your husband? (1.1k)

behind the scenes: daylight ❥

↬ a first date, a circus, and a horse named honey. (2.2k)

a compilation of ynrry on stage ❥

↬ y/n and harry are both in the band one direction, and although they aren’t allowed to publicize their relationship, their love shines through on stage in the tiniest moments. (1.2k)

sweet nothing ❥✧

↬ a very sleepy harry in an ice bath. (1.6k) [1k+, personal fave!]

love in secret ❥✧

↬ 5 times when y/n and harry just understood each other. (5.9k, check cw!) [1.5k+, author and reader favorite!!!]

a mutual understanding ✿

↬ y/n just cant stand harry, and he loves a chase. (2.6k, check warnings!)

hayday, braids, and chocolate ❥✧

↬ a lazy sunday at home with harry. (1.1k)

right back home to you ❥✮

↬ y/n trying to be cool about it (and failing)! (4.8k, check warnings)

— blurbs (<900) —

spill or fill your guts ❥✧

cloud watching ❥

sweetener (the zane lowe interview) part 1 ❥

the end ❥✧

forever ❥✧

honeyed bliss ❥✧

debriefing ❥✧

dynamic ❥

baby ❥✧

book (lovers)

— concepts —

new!gf Y/N seeing the ‘olivia’ tat for the first time <900

new!gf Y/N getting jealous at a party with fbh >1k

body shots with fbh <900

universes (h.s.)

honeyed moments

☀︎︎ a collection of home videos and moments of the styles family. [husbandrry, dadrry]

. . . .

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry edward styles #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles x fem!reader

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navstuffs · 7 months

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Imperfect

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x GN!Reader

Summary: You call your boyfriend to warn him you are being followed. When Gojo arrives, it is already too late.

Warning Tags: +18 (MINORS DNI), GORE!!!!!, cannibalism!!!, brief mention of sexual assault, short fic with horror elements.

Author's Notes: let's welcome Gojo-san into the midst of my halloween event. honestly, i love how short and effective this is. please, PLEASE pay attention to my tags since i didn't want to spoil my story too much. enjoy your reading!!

my halloween's masterlist

Some consider you the luckiest human being alive for dating Gojo Satoru. Others may wonder why you decided to date him in the first place. Dating the strongest sorcerer alive didn't frighten you or this whole new universe with curses and cursed spirits. You had always been considered peculiar anyway, out of the curve, so what was one thing more to add to your weirdness?

Satoru told you how powerful he was. No, not as a warning, more like someone declares they are Virgo or Aries or prefer fish instead of chicken. It was a fact: nobody else in this world was stronger than Gojo Satoru.

And sure enough, you could feel it. Small and low, but still there to remind you that Satoru hid a tremendous power inside of him that you weren't sure you would understand. Or cared. But most of the time, Satoru is chill, especially since you feed him into his sugar tooth and his need to be loved and cherished. And he spoiled you enough, so where was the problem?

Before, you thought dating someone so powerful could bring some unexpected dangers, but Satoru stated with confidence that no one would be crazy enough to hurt you, period. There was no discussion about that. Not one single moment you felt afraid anyway; Gojo Satoru would burn the entire world for you. He wouldn't stop until he exorcized every single one of them if a single strand of your hair was found out of place.

It was easy dating him, sharing your feelings and fears. Satoru always wanted to be the center of your attention: he was needy but had enough love to give you back (with some constant reminders of how lucky you were for dating him). Satoru was never disgusted: he embraced any of your weirdness and respected all of you, which delighted you and made you fall in love more and more.

But (because there is always a "but" and nothing can be flawless all the time) you never revealed to him your secret: Gojo Satoru is too perfect already. He accepts all of you, imperfect as you are; you are just too afraid he would never understand what you truly were.

It is on the night that you get followed that your secret spills out.

Satoru is on the other side of the country, exorcizing an "easy" curse (brutal for everyone else), and his phone has had no signal since he got there. Gojo complains to the curse that he can't say goodnight to you before slaying it. Finally, as he gets to the most elevated part of town, he is bombarded by messages from you begging for help.

"Satoru, I am being followed!"

"Please, please!"

"I am scared!"

You had sent your location to be found more easily; Gojo didn't waste time teleporting back to Tokyo. There is a certain coldness in his veins, his mind frantic as he floats above the place you sent, his blue eyes frantically searching your last known location. Satoru has one mission, and it is to find you.

He notices the amount of blood first in a dark alley. Satoru is there in the blink of an eye, his bandana still down, his eyes scanning the situation. There is so much blood splattered on the walls on the floor. It's too much to be from a single human being. There are guts, a half-eaten leg, and a scalp with short dark hair, masculine. Satoru can feel a twisted smile growing on his face. That's when he hears a weak "help me" behind the corner.

When Satoru turns around, he freezes for a second on his own Satoru time. There you are, alive. Alive with your mouth eating a man's stomach, not even raising your head to acknowledge Satoru's presence. He waits, keeping his distance, as you continue munching on the man's open belly. He seems to ask Satoru for help with his eyes, but the strongest sorcerer watches the scene with a tiny smile. He places his bandana back on his eyes, seeing more body parts behind you. Satoru presumed it was at least three attackers.

Satoru calls your name softly. Your head snaps in his direction, and Satoru has a vision of your glory: dark pupil eyes, mouth full of blood, dirty claws instead of nails. The same ones you used to cut this guy open. There was nothing human about you then, but Satoru still found you the prettiest thing he had ever seen. You seem to snarl in his direction, warning Satoru to back away while he continues smiling, content. As if he couldn't love you more. As if seeing the prettiest thing in his life, admiring it as a valuable artwork in a museum.

Your attention is back to the man who looks pretty close to death as you finish eating him, the sounds of bones breaking. When there is nothing else to eat, you sniff the air, looking at Satoru, tense.

You seem to slowly return to your usual self, realizing what you have done in front of your perfect boyfriend. He has finally seen your secret and the mess you are: eating human parts as the damned animal you are.

Satoru gets up, slowly walking towards you, and thankfully, you don't move away. You seem to recognize him, your lips still showing your teeth as a sign of defense, but Satoru isn't afraid. Even if you could pass through Mugen, you would never hurt him. He would bet his Six Eyes on that.

Gojo squats in front of you, placing his hands on your face. You don't try to get away, but your eyes demonstrate fear and some doubt.

"It is me. Just me. Come back to me now. Come on." Your eyes come back to your usual color as you listen to Satoru.

"Satoru?" Your voice is weak, and Gojo brings you to his chest. He doesn't seem to care you are getting his immaculate clothes dirty. "I tri-tried to call you…"

"It is okay. I am sure this isn't your fault."

"I am sorry you had to discover like this. They followed me! I begged them to leave me alone, but they continued following me. Until one tackled me and tried to place his hand inside my, my…"

"Shhhhh, it is okay now. I am glad you did it."

Satoru and you continue into that embrace until your shivers are gone. You are surprised, though thankful for Satoru. For understanding your other side that sometimes comes out and requires human meat. You control it the best you can, having raw meat when the urgencies got too strong, though everything fell apart when three men decided to attack you.

You didn't have a choice, begging them to stay away, calling Satoru to help you, even if it meant him discovering your secret.

You only reserved for people you consider genuinely evil, people who tried to harm you or others. You thought Satoru would give up on you after seeing what you actually were, but he seems to admire the fact you even tried to control.

"I will have someone clean this. Come on, let's go home and get you clean."

"You are not upset with me?"

"With the fact that you can take care of yourself? I'm proud. Come on."

Satoru helps you get up. You slowly walk away without looking backward, feeling calmer since you know now Gojo Satoru would love you no matter what.

taglist: @scar-crossedlvrs, @roseglazedlens. if you want to be tagged into my halloween event, please let me know!

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo fanfic #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru fanfic #satoru x reader #gojo horror #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

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lilac-5ky · 11 months

Text

Roommates from Hell, pt.2 (Toji x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 2: 2912

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N: Thanks to everyone who read and enjoyed the first part of the story! I'll do my best to update every 1-2 weeks and to keep things interesting. Feedback and suggestions are always welcome, and if anyone wants to be notified for updates, drop your name in the comments and I'll gladly tag your @.

Warning: Flashback, mentions of violence, blood, and sex toys (odd combo, I know)

2…9…1…2

Deft fingers punched in the numbers on the door’s keypad, a practiced crescendo of beeps and bops granting you access to your flat. Hesitant fingers that dropped to the handle, but refused to push forward, instead anchoring you there. Not yet, you mumbled, your eyes squeezing shut as soon as your forehead hit the frame.

Today has been a long day. So long that you barely had a moment to process the line of rapid escalations as it brought you to this very doorstep, with the ghost of your former scarf dangling from your neck. Some people would rather be glued to the little screens of their little phones than discipline their eight-year-old brats who, for some reason, thought playing tug of war with others’ scarves while they busted their gut to make a leaving to be of utmost entertainment.

Some people ought to keep their genes to themselves, you exasperated, untying the fabric from your neck and then balled it inside your bag, zipping the bunny across the seam.

The bunny…

Toji…

It was becoming a habit of yours to follow up his name with a sigh. Sometimes a sigh that meant “What am I going to do with you?” and others coming from a place of deep longing and frustration, meaning “What am I going to do without you?”

He said he’d be home after “snipping some loose ends,” which in his dictionary either referred to him breaking some poor woman’s heart, or quite literally stabbing some equally unfortunate man’s heart out of his body at his job’s demand. Depending on the plausibility of each scenario, you were given a minimum of four and a maximum of six hours to try and make sense of his actions and devise a plan to make this cohabitation work.

You licked your lips for the millionth time that day, gnawing at the chapped flesh with the edge of your teeth. No lip balm could aspire to salvage their sorry-ass state, aggravated by the low temperatures and honed by your continuous munching on them. You’d become so conscious of their existence, that it seemed as if you were trying hard to erase it before he had the chance to realize his goal of kissing them— even when that was a common goal shared by the both of you.

The taste of metal pooled in the hollow of your mouth, your teeth sinking a tad too deep. There wasn’t much reason to keep contemplating that which never happened and that which, perhaps, would never come. You wiped your shoes on the crooked doormat (was it always crooked?) and walked inside, your legs nearly giving out at the sight of two knees dangling from your beloved couch’s armrest.

“Woah, keep it down, won’t ya?”

None other than the voice of Toji reprimanded you as you screamed at the top of your lungs. His body was spilled across your couch, the expanse of muscles barely fitting upon the three azure-colored pillows. A soda —your soda— nested in his palm, while a bag of empty potato chips —your chips— lay on the kotatsu.

“What the hell are you doing here?!?” A trembling hand reached out to where your heart supposedly was, checking whether it was still in its place.

“Watching some travel show about Chikura,” he answered, unfazed and undisturbed. “You like abalone, right? Why don’t we-”

“I’m asking, how the fuck did you get in here?”

“Oh, that,” Toji smirked, lowering the TV’s volume just when the travel host was about to devour a platter full of steaming hot seafood—mouthwatering enough to divert your attention for a second. “Sayaka let me in.”

“Sa-yaka…?”

“Flat hair, narrow eyes— kinda like Izumi Pinko. Walks around with a cane twice her size. Rings a bell?”

“Talking about Ogawa-san?” you asked, a caricature of your crabby landlady taking shape before your very eyes. “She never lets in anyone without a key, though. Last time I forgot mine, she acted as if she didn’t know me and went right past. Had to phone a locksmith,” you sighed, murmuring under your breath about the extravagant sum of money you were forced to pay. “How did you do it? Convince her to open up?”

“How else ya think?” His chin rotated leisurely atop his knuckles.

“You can’t be serious! Y-you fucked her?” Your eyes went wide like saucers, the notion sounding both feasible and surreal.

His smirk sharpened into a sly grin as he stood up, a slight slouch on his shoulders carrying him to your eye level. You couldn’t exactly look away from this proximity, so you began quietly analyzing him. The tight-fitting black tee and baggy training pants that greatly accentuated his hips and shoulders; his work outfit. The overgrown hair that curtained the dark circles of his eyes; evidence of a sleepless night. The absence of scent, not even of dirt, sweat, or struggle. He must’ve actually been working on a bounty, you deduced, your final thought of rationale as he invaded the last bit of personal space you’d left.

“You really think the worst of me, huh?” His tongue circled his lips, prompting yours to do the same as you sheepishly shook your head, the sultry sound of his voice as hypnotizing as his hooded green eyes were.

“You think I go ‘round spreading the legs of everything that moves?” Toji asked again, his tone growing more condescending by the second. “ ‘fraid that ain’t the case, princess. I’m not into goodwill. Don’t do things without merit, either. She asked who I was, got all perky when I said I’m moving in, and then handed me these,” he paused, throwing a bundle of creased envelopes at your feet.

You kneeled awkwardly, seeking the sender’s origin in each logo seal. Water company. Electricity company. Phone company. Insurance company. Even the bills from that one debit card Hinata issued in your name in case of an emergency.

“Could say I paid my way in,” he scoffed, his eyes searching for an inkling of appreciation that he failed to find in your stubborn squint.

“I could’ve handled these myself.”

“Thought you’d say this, that’s why I saved this one,” he tossed another, smaller yellow-tinted paper onto the pile. “Eviction notice. My, you have it quite hard, don’tcha?”

“I don’t need classes on financial handling from someone whose living conditions are entirely dependent on ‘the bimbo of the week’,” you snapped, rising back to your feet with the bills in hand.

Maybe things were a bit tighter these past few months than you’d accounted for, but you weren’t like him. Sooner or later, you paid all expenses through sheer work and effort— a concept foreign to him, who’d rather be thrown into the streets than save a dime.

You weren’t like Toji. Not one bit. You knew that if he hadn’t run into your landlady, you would have definitely paid all your debts off in a month’s time or two, even if that meant devolving your breakfast’s nutritional value to that of instant ramen. You could take care of yourself, just like you’d done for 14 years now. He had no right to interfere because, come next month, you’d—

But the overdue deadlines at the top of each paper spoke louder than your inner thoughts and bravado did. The next month would never come for you. Not in this house, at least.

Defeated, you unfolded the paper, straightening the creases your fingernails had helped create. You hated feeling this way— indebted. The last thing you wanted was for this to turn into just another transactional relationship with an expiration date dependent on the other’s wage.

“Thank you, and,” you mumbled, your stare hiking up his body and stopping at his chest —right about where the difference in your height manifested— “….sorry, I guess. Just thought that with the way you look, and all that-”

“The way I look…?” A winsome smile tugged at his dimples, his left hand weaving through his hair as if he were oblivious to how effortlessly attractive he appeared in his work clothes, every single crevice of his body visible under the little piece of fabric.

“N-never mind.” You tore your eyes away, cheeks flushing bright red at thoughts a friend shouldn’t be having. “How was work?”

“Pretty dead,” he shrugged, using the same hand to rub some of the tension around the crook of his neck. “Don’t see a real challenge rising until that Gojo kid hatches from his egg. Rest die like flies.”

As a regular person with about an average percentage of cursed energy running through your system, you had little understanding of the mystical world of Jujutsu and its sorcerers, all the information you had acquired being bits and pieces that Toji had shared with you over the years. He never went into too much detail about his job but never hid anything either. He killed sorcerers with the same ease he spread butter on his bread.

You really didn’t understand much, and perhaps the keywords “kills for a living” ought to ring an alarm or two, but an outsider like you who didn’t abide by their rules had no right judging those who broke them. Besides, with the way his family had disposed of him as if he were a chewed piece of gum stuck on the back of their sole, things weren’t as black and white as one would assume.

“Gojo, you say,” the name sounding awfully familiar on your tongue. “Is that one of the three big clans?”

Toji nodded, his arms folding over his chest. “Special grade when he ain’t grown any pubes yet,” he scoffed, voice twisting in an unnatural way that could have tricked you into thinking he was jealous of the young boy.

“Are you gonna kill him?”

His brows knitted together, clearly not expecting such bluntness. “Question is, can I? Answer being, for the right price,” the frown he wore subdued into a crooked smile. “maybe. Kid should fetch one good wad of cash. I’m sure many want the six eyes out of the picture.”

Six eyes?

“Just make sure you save some of it,” you mindlessly said, eyes dancing around the room for the first time since you’d entered the house.

There were no real signs of his presence. The duffel bag seemed to be nowhere in sight either. Only his shoes were left by the door right next to yours, a sign you’d completely missed upon entering.

“What happened to your things, by the way? Don’t see ‘em.”

“Took the liberty of sorting them out,” Toji said. “You had a lot more empty space than you made it sound earlier.”

Somehow that statement terrified you— not because you were some overbearing control freak who didn’t want others interfering with their stuff, but because you feared the misplaced items he might have found casually lying around, providing him with all the excuse he needed to tease you to an excruciatingly slow and shameful death.

You went on a parade through the rooms, Toji following in your steps like a well-trained puppy, letting you freely inspect the new “changes”.

In the living room, you spotted a pair of dumbbells lying by the window, heavy enough that when you tried to pick one of them up, it resulted in one loud, unintentional shriek as your feet were nearly crushed, much to Toji’s vile amusement. Then in the bathroom, you found a second toothbrush that shared the exact same color yours did, along with a black fuzzy towel and a men’s deodorant that was missing its lid. You’d have to get another cup for his toothbrush, you noted, and moved along, eventually making it to your apartment’s sole bedroom.

“Where are your clothes?” you asked, Toji nodding in your closet’s direction.

You opened the first door, finding a series of dark-colored shirts, sweaters, and cardigans hanging from the previously vacant racks. You didn’t wear much color yourself, but when comparing the disparity between his almost exclusively black side of the space and the creamier pastels that predominated yours, the clash in taste was indisputable.

Absentmindedly, you run your fingers through his clothes, stopping at the dark blue parka you’d gotten him for his 21st birthday. He wasn’t the type to keep gifts from women, but seeing he’d preserved yours in mint condition filled you with a strange sense of pride.

“Not bad,” you exclaimed, satisfied with how aptly his clothes were displayed until a new worry surfaced. “What about your underwear?”

He glanced toward the bottom drawer, his instep gently kicking against it. You weren’t too sure if that was necessary, and under different circumstances, you’d rather avoid such overt embarrassment, but this was your house first and foremost. Your closet, your drawer, and—

“The bottom drawer…?” The realization struck like a ton of bricks, your pupils widening and then trembling as a breath hitched up your throat, remaining there.

The bottom drawer is where you kept it, perhaps the only thing in this entire household that you’d rather he didn’t see, at the cost of your own life, even. A rabbit, whose little ears tapped in excitement every time it saw you. A rabbit vastly different from the ones that hopped around happily in fields or the one that was weaved through the zipper of your handbag. A rabbit that had kept you company in his place many nights and knew the sound of his name better than Toji himself did.

Sinking to your knees, you felt his shadow loom over you like the shadow of imminent death. You let go of that breath and yanked the drawer open, eyes squinting at the sight of neatly stacked black boxers, their size big enough to make you arch a brow, yet not big enough to completely conceal 6 inches of hot pink. You were safe.

“Looking for this?” A light buzz rang in your ear, your head tilting to meet Toji’s namesake.

“G-give it back!” You dived forward, gracelessly collapsing at his feet when he pulled it out of reach.

“Come and get it,” Toji retorted, wiggling it before your very eyes.

Piecing a loose strand of hair behind your ear, you pounced at him, fingers locking around the silicone and his hand, while he refused to surrender, his thrilled expression revealing just how much he enjoyed the demand in your tone as you bossed him into handing back the vibrator.

“What will I get in return?”

“Wha— why would you get anything?” You gritted your teeth, stumbling forward as he dragged you to him.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he shook his forefinger playfully. “Finders keepers, losers weepers. If ya really want it, better compensate me first. Oh, look, it has multiple speeds, huh….” he said semi-impressed, revving up the rabbit’s switch to its second and third speeds.

“…What do you want?” You practically begged, seeking a way out of this humiliation.

“Now we talking,” Toji smirked, barely restraining himself from ruffling the hair of the ferocious, albeit cute, beast that attacked him. “2912. What do the numbers mean? Tried your birthday first, but seems like you do have a few brain cells in there,” he tapped at your temple with his free hand, frustration pooling in your eyes. “Then your mom’s death anniversary, your sis’ birthday, that brat’s too— even mine, but no good.

“So, what’s 2912 to you? Indulge me, and I’ll let you have it.”

2912, or more accurately, 29/12. It didn’t surprise you that he didn’t remember. After all, it wasn’t an important date, just another winter’s day from many, many years ago. A day that was all but erased under the thick blanket of snow as it engulfed your tender memories.

A heavy sigh parted your lips, and at that moment, you knew you’d already lost.

“You really wanna know?”

It was the 27th of December.

The 27th morning of a month whose sole notable event was the week-long blizzard that’d condemned the entire nation to a period of absolute and unfaltering inertia. Well, as unfaltering as the in-between downpours let it be, snow washing over the streets in a diluted mixture of ice and mud every two days— streets turning into a dangerous minefield, and hospital beds quickly filling up with broken-boned smarty pants who thought wandering out and about in the heart of winter would be as inconsequential as those dull days were.

You were one of those idiots. Not quite, but you were on your way to join their ranks, every step you took across the frozen pavements of Tokyo threatening to leave you with a bad case of a sprained ankle, or worse, a cracked skull. You regretted wearing those worn-out boots today of all days, but then again, your wardrobe choices were limited to whatever clothing you’d grown out of, and the clothes your mother left behind.

This old suede pair was hers, too. A gift from back when your house was still open to crowds and birthday parties— when it wasn’t just an empty carcass of termite-eaten joists and web-infested corners that could barely welcome, let alone host, the final of its residents: yourself.

Returning to the reason why you’d chosen today as the day to stride across Shibuya —a thermos of soothing Butajiru soup gripped tightly between your mitten-clad palms and a backpack full of advertising fliers for your afternoon job attached to your back— and consequentially, the reason why you sported your mother’s beloved shoes: you had a job interview. Your first non-canceled interview in over two months since your personal inertia began when you were suddenly and unjustifiably laid off.

Those were tough times. The entire country was dipped in despair over the biggest economic recession they’d known. Left and right, people had their jobs snatched from within their grasp in the name of meek excuses such as cost reduction, or merging and buyouts, or even staff redundancy, and who could blame those small enterprise owners, really?

In any case, the cost of running your previous employer’s rathole of a convenience store might have been reduced, but your living expenses weren’t, and the supplementary funds the state provided were running dry. No one wanted to hire an inexperienced, uninsured high schooler. It was too much of a gamble, especially when the contenders were overqualified college graduates desperate enough to work menial jobs for the same breadcrumbs a part-timer would.

You were at your wit’s end. Out of luck and starved for something other than vending machine onigiri. Thirsty for a life you’d probably never be able to obtain. But today wasn’t about wallowing in self-pity. No, today was the day you’d take your first step toward normality and dignity. Today, you marched proudly in your mother’s most prized possession, and today you felt her comforting scent linger in the breeze, giving you the much-needed push to achieve what you’d set out to do.

Live. That was the final request that left her lips, and that was exactly what you were planning to do. You’d live. No matter what, against all odds, you would live.

The headlights at the bustling intersection shone a brilliant green as the herd of sharply dressed businessmen and casually dressed students on their day off pushed forward like a troop of toy soldiers, sweeping you past Shibuya River, where the crystallized waters from below its bridge stilled your grimacing reflection.

It’d been so long since the last time you’d genuinely smiled that your facial muscles barely remembered how to. It looked awkward and forced. Foreign. You’d practiced your introduction days ahead, but that damn smile stood in the way. If only there was a “smiles for dummies” playbook, though you doubted it’d help. Those without a reason to smile could only second-guess the happiness of those who were blessed with it.

As if to further test your theory, today’s misfortune came pedaling right in your direction, a hasty biker knocking the thermos off your hands and onto the water with a faint “sorry” echoing in his stead. You ducked over the handrail, spotting the silver shine a couple of meters away from the river’s brink. You sighed in relief, grateful that the impact hadn’t shattered the ice and that you still had about 45 minutes to catch your interview— more than enough time for you to carry out your flask’s impromptu rescue operation.

You walked over to the bridge’s sideline, where, in place of stairs, an overgrown cherry tree cast its shadow. This was far from sensible, but the cliff wasn’t steep enough to dissuade you. You looped your scarf around a leaning branch and began your descent, the non-existent friction between your tattered soles and the slippery cement sending you to meet your maker as you tumbled down the slope and hit the ground. Shit.

Once you were done lamenting your sheer idiocy, your faulty shoes, the tree branch, the weather forecast, and every Shinto deity’s name you could remember off the top of your head, you pushed yourself onto your knees, carefully rotating each ankle around itself. Not broken. Thank those aforementioned gods you cursed, or else you’d never be able to afford the medical bills.

You shook the snow off your clothes and stood up, stretching both arms over your head, only to realize your blunder had become a lonesome spectator’s object of amusement. The man —assuming that the creature behind you was a man and not some wild beast with the way his jacket fluffed over his skull— was bent in half, knees to his chest, and arms coiled around, the sole distinctive trait that of his sparkling green eyes zeroing in on your plainer orbs.

You could have sworn you heard a chuckle, too, but you weren’t about to start a fight with some unhinged bum at the bottom of a bridge— not when you were one missed bill away from sharing his fate.

Deciding to temporarily forsake his presence, you located the now broken branch and attempted to fish your bottle out, moving as close to the ice as you could. Desperate lunges pushed the thermos further in, your hold on the wood relaxing with each failed attempt until you barely had a grip.

“Excuse me!” you turned at your last resort. “Hi, um… could you please help me out here? I dropped this into the water, and it’s really important I get it back, but my arms can’t reach and the ice is so thin and slippery I just might fall.”

An uncomfortable chuckle failed to appease its tough crowd, with the man remaining lost in his thoughts, his eyes blinking slower than traffic lights during rush hours. It seemed like you’d found the worst person to exercise your communication skills with.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

“Shut up.”

It was your turn to blink in surprise, your jaw dropping at the man’s barking. You were too shocked to be offended and too offended to question if it was you he addressed, but his next sentence left no real room for misunderstanding.

“I said, shut the fuck up and take it elsewhere. You were the one who dropped it. If it was that important to you, then shoulda taken better care of it instead of avalanching your way down here and disturbing my peace.”

Clapping your hands over your agape mouth, you muttered an apology and faced away from him, coming to your senses a minute later when you realized you weren’t in the wrong. Sure, he could be dealing with some lachrymose life-shattering situation you knew nothing about, but that wasn’t an excuse for him to act like a complete jerk to a fellow stranger in need.

You weren’t sure why you held back from flipping him off. Maybe you’d accepted that dealing with douchebags was going to become part of your new reality as a service worker, or maybe it was because you really didn’t want any trouble with a guy who looked this intimidating even while seated. Either way, you whipped out your trusty branch again and neared the brink, this time using it as a cane to help you tread the frozen waters and snatch your thermos.

You didn’t even get a chance at a victorious cheer when you felt the ice shatter beneath your feet, eager to swallow you into the depths of its bottomless abyss. Or that’s what would have happened if the river didn’t cap at 2 meters, and if a hand didn’t yank you by the scruff of your neck, hurling you back to the shore as if you weighed no more than a snowflake.

“The hell you think you are doing? Got a death wish or something?” the brass voice of your savior accused, belonging to a much more pleasant and youthful face than one would have expected.

The boy was more or less your age, about a head taller with broad shoulders and a toned physique his baggy clothes undermined— much stronger than your average high-schooler, judging by the sheer strength he’d flung your body with. Messy raven black hair rained down to his ears, sloppily chopped into shape by their owner himself. Eyes as green as a thousand springs gone by, and as fiery as the blazing fury scorching them. The only discord in his features was that of a scar on the right side of his lips, begrudgingly moving with each profanity he spat.

Your second apology came as a knee-jerk reaction to his outburst, encouraged by the temporal trance his good looks had subjected you to. You wouldn’t say you had a type, and even if you did, you doubted that a no-good, rude bridge inhabitant was it. However, the only way for you to tear your gaze off of him was to physically force yourself away. The guy murmured something under his breath and moved back to his original spot, arms dangling over his spread thighs.

You were unsure of what to do. The time for your interview was closing in, and no one guaranteed he wouldn’t rip the vocal cords off your throat if you tried to verbally thank him. You had a very bad feeling about this guy, and perhaps you should have listened to your gut rather than nullifying the distance with a peace offering.

“Here,” you prodded a spare cup of soup into the empty space between you.

He arched a brow at your gesture, his irritation gradually melting into curiosity and then acceptance as he brought the cup to his lips and took a hesitant sip.

“Hmm,” he hummed, gulping down some more after he’d made sure you weren’t trying to poison him.

You expected something else to follow, but it seemed like his outburst exhausted his vocabulary. You could always ask what he thought of it, but the thought alone was as scary as going for another suicide dive. So you said nothing, and he did the same. Just two strangers who barely tolerated each other sharing a moment of silence in the snowy landscape.

A short while later, the boy shoved the cup toward you and dug his hand in his jacket’s front pocket, dropping about six crumpled ten-thousand yen bills at your feet.

“For the soup,” he explained as if the notion of spending such an extravagant sum on half a cup of pork loin soup made sense.

“Are you outta your mind?” You pushed the bills back at him, lest your greed take over. “How much do you think this cost to make?”

“Dunno,” he shrugged, no real hurry to reclaim his cash.

Your initial impression was completely false. No bum would ever wave ten-thousand bills around as if they were nothing. No, this guy ought to at least be some troubled conglomerate heir that’d run away from his five-bedroom mansion.

“I’m sure you don’t know how dangerous this neighborhood is,” you said, placing your hand against your heart. “But as a born and raised local, allow me to say that if you keep flaunting wads of cash in people’s faces so recklessly, it won’t be long before you get mugged. It’s your lucky day you ran into me and not some sleazy money grabber, but trust me, not every day’s lucky, and not everyone’s as nice.”

Something about what you said must have resonated with him, considering his frown cracked into a simper.

“I’d like to see them try,” he spoke in a cocky tone that reeked of confidence. “How much for seconds then?”

“Not for sale,” you answered, throwing the thermos inside your backpack.

His weight shifted in your direction, chin balancing against his elbow. “Why not?”

“You see, I’m on my way to a job interview. Figured if I don’t cut it, then the soup will,” quickly adding, “It’s my trump card.”

“What a dumb plan,” he sneered. “If ya wanna bribe someone, better make an offer they can’t refuse. Couple of these work like a charm.”

He waved the money again, successfully drawing your interest when you noticed tiny splotches of red on one of the bills. Blood.

Picking up on the change in your expression, he hurriedly stuffed the cash inside his pocket, his thumbs sticking out in a relaxed grip so as to hide his discomfort. The air grew heavy once more, albeit for a different reason.

Every guess you’d made regarding this guy’s identity clashed with the next one. He was rude, but he’d jumped to your rescue. He looked unkempt yet strikingly handsome. He’d taken refuge under a bridge but was damn loaded. A walking (more like seated) contradiction of a man that intrigued you in more ways than he repulsed you.

“So, what are you doing out here? Did you also fall from up there?” You chuckled nervously while pointing upward.

He smiled.

“That’s a pretty old-school pickup line, if ya ask me.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Your chest pounded against your fleece jacket, hands quick to dispute him. “Did something happen? Why did you end up here?”

He shook his head.

“Did you run away from home?”

He shook his head again.

“Did you get into a fight with someone?”

He thought about shaking his head a third time, but instead, he opted for a groan and hissed about how he should have let you drown.

Your tongue embarrassed you yet again, as you mumbled an apology and cowered in your corner. For some reason, you couldn’t stop apologizing to him, and if that was enough to frustrate you, then it was definitely enough to annoy him. Maybe the time to leave had come. You’d done your part in thanking him, and it was really none of your business to pry into his sad character backstory.

“Well then. It was nice knowing you, and all. Hope you have a Happy New Year’s and a nice life, and let’s never see each other again for as long as we-”

“What if I told you I just killed someone?”

The blood in your veins froze for a reason separate from the cold. You were left staring at him with wide-open eyes and a wide-open mouth that refused to form anything other than a soundless “What?!”

“Thought so,” he scoffed as if he expected the outcome, sorrow lingering in his voice. “Go away if ya don’t wanna end up the same way. I’m still getting the hang of it, and I’m afraid it’d hurt more than drowning.”

But you didn’t leave. Even when that little voice of reason thrashed and begged for you to seize the opportunity and get the fuck away from this place, your legs refused to take another step. Instead, you settled back upon the snowy blanket and stilled your gaze on his face, watching a glimmer of something tune in the green of his eyes.

“W-Who was it?” You feigned calmness.

“Does it matter?” he shrugged.

“Why did you kill him?”

“Does it really matter?” he sighed, reconsidering his answer. “Dunno. Money, I guess. Not as if I had a personal grudge or anything. Didn’t even know the dude up until three days ago. Took him out with a single bullet to his brain. T’was instant since he didn’t move. Painless, too.” He tried to humanize his actions.

You weren’t entirely sold on his story, but on the off chance he was telling the truth, that made him a murderer and you a witness to his crime. Worse, if you didn’t rat on him, it made you an accomplice, and as far as you were concerned, neither was less illegal than the other.

Your hands cupped your mouth completely as you pretended to blow hot air, the reality being that you didn’t want to spew anything too backhanded before thinking things through. Oddly, it all made sense. The reason he sat down there like a puppy kicked by his owners. His devil-may-care attitude and rude comments that meant to throw you off. The blood on the bills and the stain on the hem of his jacket that you’d previously overlooked.

That was all the incriminating evidence one needed to possibly sentence him, and yet you sensed no real danger in his presence. Only a deep sadness that stemmed from his lifeless eyes, making you believe that his so-called victim was none other than himself. He looked as if he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep in God knows how long, the light in his eyes reduced to a murky shade of jade now that everything was laid bare.

There was so much you didn’t know about this boy, his name included. But you knew that look of despair all too well. If it was because of money, then maybe, just this once, you wouldn’t mind giving him the benefit of the doubt.

“How much did you make?” You lowered your palms.

Your question surprised him more than he thought possible, and his stupefied expression was a telltale sign of that. He flipped both pockets inside out and let the money fall onto the snow, revealing twice the amount he’d held before— a total of 120.000 yen.

“Minus a grand. Felt hungry after,” he admitted.

“Must be nice… With that amount of money, I could have rice to last me until the end of the year.”

“You’d kill for rice…?”

Glancing at his face, you couldn’t help yourself from snorting. You were both too deep inside the twilight zone to be questioning each other’s motives.

“Why act surprised? People like us do all sorts of things to get out of our predicaments, don’t we?” you asked, deciding there were more things you had in common than things that divided you. “Is ‘just money’ a better reason than rice?”

“Nah,” he shook his head. “But if I were you, I’d get myself a pair of boots that ain’t a death trap of its own. Gotta be a special kind of idiot to wear crappy shoes in the snow.”

“These were my mother’s!” you objected, and he smirked. “What about you? Where do you plan on spending all that money?”

“Roppongi probably. Or Kabukicho. Heard the right price fetches you the right type of fun there.”

He couldn’t be serious. Those were two of the most renowned bad districts in the history of bad districts. Drugs, gambling, prostitution— you name it.

“How old are you again?”

“Older than you,” he childishly retorted.

“What’s your name?”

“So you can snitch?” His tongue wet the scar below his bottom lip. “Toji.”

“Last name?”

He contemplated his answer for a bit before proudly stating that he didn’t have one —that he didn’t need one— and then he asked you the same.

“Y/N.” You smiled faintly. “I do have a last name, but doubt the one who gave it wants me to have it. Would’ve asked it back if it had any real value.”

“So we are two fuck-ups,” he— Toji, declared.

“I suppose we are.”

The two of you shared a quiet laugh, the kind that wasn’t heard but felt through the eyes of two kindred spirits entirely content with each other’s presence. Ever since your mother passed, you lived in a sphere separate from other people. Your classmates and those who tried to be your friends could afford the luxury of sharing takoyaki on a school day and going karaoke singing the next. They could attend field trips and leave memories on a string of Polaroid frames.

You didn’t. You couldn’t. There wasn’t a single moment in your life when you hadn’t thought about the cost of milk and the value of one-plus-one deals you convinced yourself you didn’t need. Such were the concerns you had at seventeen. Not boys, no friendships, no university entrance exams, no nothing. You couldn’t afford the price tag of a dream, let alone a tomorrow. You lived for today and for making ends meet, so how could someone like you ever aspire to be understood? How could you ever view yourself as something other than the zeros at the bottom of your meager paycheck?

Your self-exile had no room for others, yet somehow, this foul-mouthed stranger had barged his way in and given you a moment that you couldn’t price. A moment that neither loan sharks nor the bank could ever steal. A moment of your youth.

The thick fingers of a calloused hand came to tap at your knee softly, making you wonder whether you’d missed something during your short period of contemplation.

“When’s the interview?” Toji asked.

“Uhm.” You rolled your sleeve to check your watch. “Ten minutes? There’s still time; the place’s right around the corner.”

“Somethin’ tells me getting your ass over there will take longer than that.” Suddenly, the hand that was on your leg hovered above your head, prompting you to grab it as Toji towered over you. “Let’s go.”

“You coming with?”

“You think I’d rather sit down here like some bridge troll that reels in defenseless damsels in distress?”

You were tempted to answer “yes” to see his reaction, but he resumed talking before you could utter a word. “Won’t say it again. Let’s go.”

And with that, you followed Toji to the other end of the bridge, where the stairs you previously failed to locate mocked you with every little squeak your heels produced, until you stood back at the top of civilization, finding it, unsurprisingly, the same as you’d left it. Thoroughly white and eerily quiet.

Just as you thought your ways would part, Toji took your hand in his rather forcefully and picked up a steady gait that you were made to keep up with, your shoes leaving deep imprints in the snow.

He held your hand all the way to the diner, and although you were truly curious as to why he did that, you didn’t dare ask. You walked side by side in silence, occasional fleeting gazes catching his warm breath clashing with the cold. It was then that you realized how warm his palm felt, despite it being all bare. Warm, strong, and certain. So this is what holding a guy’s hand feels like, you giddily mused.

By the time you reached the front door, you were more reluctant to let go than you’d been to grab his hand, thinking that this was the first and last time the two of you were saying goodbye. Sweat made your fingers slippery. You were anxious. You slid your mittens off your fingers and, on a whim, pressed them tight against his palms, making him the recipient of the first gift you’d ever given. He shot the pink-colored wool a funny look —maybe because the prospect of him accepting such a girly-looking accessory puzzled him— and then lingered for a moment or two before he turned around and waved at you over his shoulder.

“Aren’t you gonna wish me good luck?” You asked when the distance between you began to increase.

“You won’t need it,” you heard him say. “The soup will do.”

And with those final words exchanged, you traded the frigid cold for the diner’s artificial heat and the presence of a prospective friend for that of your boss-to-be.

Just like Toji predicted, you didn’t need luck, and you didn’t need that lukewarm soup either. The man hired you almost as fast as he saw you, sternly announcing that you start come Monday. You thanked him from the bottom of your heart and ran back outside, searching through the various white-painted buildings for that stubborn hint of black you’d not too long ago parted with— which you quickly spotted a couple of alleyways ahead.

“I got the job! You hear me, Toji?” You yelled in utter glee, sensibility alone keeping you from springing upward like a jack-in-the-box. “I’m not a fuck-up anymore; I got it! I got the job!”

You weren’t even sure whether that shadow really belonged to him and whether he’d actually made sense of all your frantic cries, but maybe if you’d hushed a little, then you could have heard a distant voice chiming, “I knew you would.”

It was the 27th of December when we first met, but it was on the 29th that I fell in love with you— the scruffy boy with the snow-laced hair and emptied pockets who ordered the cheapest fries off the menu as my company’s fee.

You had your answer locked and loaded— a trigger waiting to be pulled. A clear shot. One bullet was all it’d take to end it. One word, and the farce you called friendship would fizzle right then and there. A sadistic impulse uncoiled deep within your stomach, hitching up your throat like a vile serpent of temptation spurring your chaste tongue to commit the greatest sin imaginable.

I hate being your friend. I don’t want to do this anymore. Do you have any idea how hard it is?

All synonyms for the same emotion. A gut-wrenching, soul-crushing, and above all, self-destructive unrequited love that made your heart clench at the mere sight of him, pound at the sound of his voice, and hammer at the ghost of his touch. If you could reach deep within your chest and cut that useless thing off the strings that held it in its cavity, you certainly would. You’d hand it over to him and gladly watch him stomp on it with the biggest smile contorting the final expression on your face. You wanted to rid yourself of this pointless emotion, but you knew very well that to destroy yourself meant to destroy him.

The 18-year-old Toji that held your hand on a cold winter’s day as if it were the most precious thing to him. The 20-year-old Toji that came along to meet the sister and nephew you didn’t know you had. The 22-year-old Toji that said he was proud of you when you paid off your parents’ house’s mortgage. The 24-year-old Toji that came to your graduation from state college with blood-stained lilies in his hand, again letting slip how proud he was. The 26-year-old Toji that didn’t hesitate to knock the teeth right out of a handsy prick’s jaw, spending his first and last night in a holding cell. The Toji from the last ten years of your life that never strayed too far away from your sight and always managed to return in time for lunch.

Standing in front of the 28-year-old Toji, you felt more apologetic than ever, wishing that you wouldn’t have let your love for him fester into something so selfish and consuming. Because if Toji left, then you’d still have your sister and her family, but if you left, Toji would have none.

And that was why you could never tell him what that day meant. It was impossible to speak of it with any less fondness than the one depicted in your memories, and as dense as Toji could be at times, he was no idiot. So rather than giving him the answer he thought himself to seek, you retracted your hand and took a step back, forcing the meekest smile your guilty conscience could muster.

“How about an offer you’d never refuse?”

tags: @absoluteindulgence

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joelswritingmistress · 4 months

Text

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 24

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

“He asked me to move in with him.” I couldn't keep the word vomit from leaving my mouth as I settled into a little booth across from Tori with a coffee between my hands.

Her eyebrows seemed to raise about three inches and she didn't say anything at first.

“It's crazy, I know.” I shook my head.

“How long have you been with him?”

“A month.” I made a face.

“Does he, like, ejaculate gold coins or something?” Tori asked, laughing as she spoke.

I laughed with her and shook my head, looking down. “I don't know. I've never been like this. He's just got this way about him.”

“What's his house like?”

A small smile crept onto my face and she cut in before I could answer.

“He's rich, isn't he?”

“He lives in this, like, mini castle.”

“A castle?”

“Well, that's what it looks like. It's really cool.”

“Okay, so my suspicions are correct.”

I swallowed hard, eager to hear her theories. “What suspicions?”

“He ejacs gold coins.”

I laughed again, actually pleased she hadn't said something serious. I wasn't in the mood for sinister scenarios that would only heighten my internal anxiety over the situation.

“I don't even care about the house or whatever. I just.. I'm falling way too fast for this guy.” My eyes met here across the table. “Do you think I'm crazy?”

Tori gave a half smile and a shrug. “A little.” She smiled fully and sipped her coffee. “It is a little fast.”

“It's very fast.”

“Okay, it's very fast,” she agreed. “But, it's your call. What's your gut telling you? I'd ask what your heart’s telling you but I'm pretty sure I already know that. And the heart can be misleading.” Tori motioned to me with her drink as she emphasized the last part.

“Yeah.” I sighed and reached into a small paper bag for the muffin I’d ordered with my coffee.

“Well, how about this?” Tori went on when I broke off a piece of the muffin top. “If things work out with Mr. “Joel Gold Coins”,” she used her fingers to do the air quotes and I snickered, “Then I better be the maid of honor. And if it ends up not being what you thought, then there's always a room for you at 355 Ellie Drive.”

I looked toward my friend and let out another exhale through my nose. She was so understanding and not judgmental. I had disappeared off the face of the earth for a month since meeting Dr. Miller and she never questioned a thing.

“I'm sorry if I've been a bad friend,” I started but she reached for my hand and wagged a finger.

“You haven't been a bad friend,” she disagreed. “We’re at pivotal points in our lives. And I guess the lucky part is that we've kind of both found the same thing in the same time frame.” Tori shrugged, “It happens. We’re.. growing up.”

I smiled, “Adulting?”

“Ugh, you know I hate that word.”

I laughed and then sighed again with a more serious expression. “Thank you, Tori.”

“You're welcome.”

“I mean it. Thank you.” I sipped my coffee again. “Now, I'm done making this all about me. Tell me about Derek.”

My friend bit her bottom lip and spilled all the recent tea about her beau. I knew Derek. I liked him. The fact that he would be there with her full time took away some of the guilt I was experiencing. Tori appeared excited and happy and light as air. Getting a chance to sit and talk was rejuvenating. As much as I enjoyed the intensity of my time with Dr. Miller, I appreciated the lighthearted feeling I had being in Tori’s company.

“Once a week,” my friend pointed at me as we finally left the little coffee shop, “And that's nonnegotiable.”

“Once a week. And I'll be back soon to get my clothes and stuff.” I nodded and we exchanged a hug. “I'm going to head into LL Bean,” I said motioning to the store a few doors down on the little street.

“I have to go to work or I'd gladly spend a good hundred bucks in there with you.”

“Okay, be safe. I miss you.”

Tori blew a kiss. “See you soon.”

I waved goodbye and headed into the store, mostly in search of a good pair of winter boots.

If I happen to walk out with a sweater or two, so be it, I thought internally with a smile. Or maybe a hat for our ski wedding weekend.

An older man greeted me with a friendly, “Hello,” from behind a cash register off to the left. I smiled and waved before making the trek up a flight of stairs to the second floor where I knew the women's shoe section was.

A rack of on-sale sweaters and shirts conveniently greeted me near the top of the stairs and I gave it a lengthy browse. A knee length blue and white sweater dress caught my eye and I draped it over my arm before moving on toward the shoes.

“(Y/N)?” A female voiced my name quietly and I turned my attention away from the wall of boots in front of me.

When I glanced over my left shoulder I froze. Christine, Dr. Miller’s ex-wife, had just exited the dressing room. She was dressed more casually than our first meeting, sporting jeans and a sweater with a winter hat.

“Hi,” I said awkwardly.

“How are you doing?” She asked, as if we were friends or acquaintances that hadn't seen one another for awhile.

“I'm fine.” I forced a smile. “How are you?”

“Good.” Christine smiled back and bluntly asked, “Are you still seeing Joel?”

I gave a little nod, hoping that would be the end of that. Of course it wasn't.

“Look, woman to woman,” she said, beginning to pace in my direction. “I don't want to see you get hurt the way I did. Just.. be careful. Joel has this charisma that can really be..” She took a few seconds as she searched for the correct word, “Blinding.”

“I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean by that.” I didn't want to have this conversation. People broke up all the time and could easily list off the reasons why their former partner was terrible. It didn't mean those two people couldn't move on and find someone more compatible for them. Everyone has flaws.

“I fell for him,” Christine nodded and stared at me, “Fast. Hard.” She shook her head and maintained eye contact, “He has secrets, (Y/N).”

“Don't we all?” I tried to sound casual and glanced down at the sweater on my arm.

“Not these kind of secrets.”

“Well, what are these kind of secrets?” I asked.

Christine sighed, looking around as she did before finding my eyes again. “That's something I'll take to my grave.. but also something I couldn't live with.”

I wasn't typically one to speak up, but I couldn't help myself now. “So, woman to woman you came here to warn me, but you can't tell me about what? You just want me to be careful because of Joel's secrets but you won't tell me what those secrets are?” I shook my head, “If you were actually looking out for me, you'd tell me.” I wandered away from the boots section back toward the staircase.

“It's the least I can do,” Christine called out.

I took the stairs back to the bottom floor. All the life that Tori had breathed into me, Christine had sucked out. I was so taken aback that I almost walked out with the sweater without paying for it. Hell, I hadn't even tried it on.

I stopped myself before closing in on the door and made a hard right toward the register.

“Find everything you were looking for?” The old man asked with a friendly grin.

I wanted to match his cheeriness but I just couldn't. Still, I managed a smile. “Yes, thank you.” He scanned the tag, I swiped my card and then headed back out onto the street.

I was going to tell Dr. Miller about bumping into Christine. I wasn't about to accuse him of anything but I needed to at least ask what she was referring to. Of course he had secrets - or at least some unknowns he promised to tell in due time. As much as I needed to know, I wasn't going to bombard him simply because his ex-wife bombarded me.

She hated me, Dr. Miller had claimed. I was sure at least part of her approaching me had something to do with sabotaging him.

I shook my head and hurried across the street to an ATM. Having a little cash on me at all times was something my parents had always advised me to do, and it was a habit I'd carried into adulthood.

I looked around the immediate area and then back to the doors of LL Bean to see if Christine had come out. I wanted to get out of the area as soon as possible and cozy up by a warm fire, as Dr. Miller had promised.

As I slipped my card into the machine, I envisioned it for a moment, trying to push away the negative thoughts that had been bestowed upon me. It worked - sort of.

I punched in my four digit code and selected to remove sixty dollars. Again, I looked over my shoulder as the ATM worked its magic. When the screen instructed me to remove my card, I did just that and then tucked it away back into my purse.

The money dispensed and upon collecting it, I looked at the screen again. If it had been a cartoon I swear my eyes would have popped right out of my head.

This has to be a mistake. I looked at the balance. It was all wrong.

“What the hell?”

The receipt shot out next as the screen switched to a simple, THANK YOU, in bold letters. I ripped the receipt from its place and studied the numbers. The balance on the thin piece of white paper matched that of the balance on the screen.

This has to be a mistake.

As I stood in disbelief, staring at the fifty-seven thousand dollars that was now said to be in my account, my eyes glanced up and I saw Christine staring at me from across the street. I felt like she knew exactly what I was staring at on that money slip.

When she shook her head, I crumpled the paper and forced it into my coat pocket before rushing to my car and driving away from that quaint, little street in the center of town.

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

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