#Big ass gap in ma mouth now

[anthonyeatssocks]

[madamechrissy]

Dirty Little Secret

ꕥ Pairings: Toji Fushiguro x Fem Reader

ꕥ Warnings-MDNI-explicit sexual content, dirty talk, Toji calls reader 'doll, ma, slut (Toji and Doll just work lol) Age gap- reader is 21, Toji is 39. - This chapter-rough sex, pregnancy kink, oral fem and male recieving, excessive mentions of cum, Toji is a freaky ass mf, spanking, more freaky shit, that's what this fic rly is.

ꕥ Word Count-this chap- 6.6k

ꕥ Summary- Toji Fushiguro is your dad Shiu's best friend for years. You've known him most your life. You come home for spring break to relax, and who pops up at the fucking doorstep? Toji. He's nasty, annoying, perverted and... Sexy. Hot. Built. And makes you think, maybe your first time shouldn't be with some college boy? But with this buff dude who can tie a cherry stem with his tongue and a scar on his damn lip.

Chapter 10 - Masterlist - Playlist

Chapter 11

“I’m on the shot! How!?” You are panicking, your heart racing in your chest as you stare at the two lines on the test Toji ran to get. How can this be real, how can you not have noticed…

“Holy shit.” He huffs, still playing with your tits, and you scowl, smacking at his big hands then. “Sorry, doll… they’re so great for stress.”

“Toji, this is serious.”

“I’m dead ass serious.” Toji brushes your hair back gently, and your eyes flutter shut for a moment at how good it feels. “From when do you think, doll? The hotel? Or… was it on Spring break… because that’d make you…”

“Fuck, that would be three months, no way. Shit. I sometimes don’t get a period on the shot for months, and with all the stress of everything I didn’t notice, so I am not sure. Ugh.”

“So I fuck through birth control?” He smirks as he talks, making you even angrier, your blood pressure rising.

“This isn’t funny. Did they even have birth control when Megumi was born, old man?”

He glares at you now, his eyes dark in the bathroom, jaw locking. “Doll you’re really acting like we didn’t have birth control in the early 2000's?”

“I figured you were born in the fifties, so-”

“That’s it.” Toji lifts you up by your arms, turning you to face the mirror, pushing you over the sink. “Imma beat your ass again.”

“You can’t, I’m pregnant!” You giggle then, however, grabbing a toothbrush and toothpaste, catching his eyes and grin in the mirror. “You’re so cocky, you are happy you did this shit.”

“Damn right I am.” He wraps an arm around your waist, hand pressing your tummy gently, and you suck in a breath, seeing him so big behind you, around you, as he rests a chin on your shoulder. “I told ya I wanted to put a baby in ya. Gonna be so sexy when you’re all round.”

“No, I’ll look so gross, ugh!” You brush your teeth viciously, rinsing then, drying your mouth with the back of your hand to turn and face him, back pressed against the counter. “Babe, this is insane. Should we do this?”

He cups your face then, bending low and holding you so close. “It’s up to you, doll, but fuck… I hope you want to. I really do.” He’s choked up then, that rare emotion filling his eyes, making his voice gruff.

“Oh, Toji…” You cup his face gently then, as both of your hearts are pounding in your chests.

“I know I fucked up with Megumi…”

“Don’t…”

“No, listen to me.” He presses his forehead against yours, as his big hands splay your body, gripping so tight like he never wants to let go. “I know I wasn’t shit for the kid back then. I know it, don’t defend it because you love me.”

“You were a baby, Toji. Younger than me!” You feel emotions hit hard, stuck in your throat as he pulls back a bit with a sharp intake of his breath, and you see his dark green eyes watery, breaking your damn heart.

“It’s no excuse for not being around. I am lucky he wanted a relationship when he got older, but I fucking swear to you, if I get another chance to be a dad, I’ll do it right. I’ll do right by both of you, I promise I will, doll.” Your tears are streaming down your cheeks at his hoarse confession, you feel his hands trembling, and you swipe away two errant little tears.

Toji Fushiguro is strong, he’s rough and brazen, he’s so tough and such a big man, he holds so much in. With nasty humor, with quips, making shit a joke, but now he’s looking at you with such devotion, as he holds you so close, your tummy pressed against his. Your toothpaste on your breath is mingling with the coffee on his as you both press so close, gazing at each other.

You know then, that you want this, that you want to have his baby, fuck it’s insane and you’ll be like twenty two and and a momma… yet, you want it with every fiber of your being. As you see this care, this love, this hope, as you feel his hand gently atop your flat tummy, as you both picture it round, as you picture a life with him.

“I know I am not the most… sweet man.” You giggle through your tears, but he’s still very serious. “But I swear to you this, a little girl or boy, I’ll be the best dad I can be, I’ll do everything to take care of you all, I’ll make sure of it. If I get a chance to have a beautiful little girl, who looks like you, or a little shithead boy like me.”

“Oh… fuck.” You’re sobbing now, you can’t help it, not when you hear the desperation in his voice, when you feel his lips on your forehead, so oddly sweet and so different. You feel his love and need radiating as you cling to his bare arms, feeling his entire body tense.

“I can’t ask you to do this if you don’t want, and I’ll love you no matter your decision, but fuck… I can’t lie. I want so bad to have babies with you, to make a family, to do this shit right. Please, Doll, give me a shot?” He finishes then, hand brushing back your hair gently, and you smile tremulously up at him.

“Of course I want this baby. There’s no question, none at all. It’s insane, and my dad will kill you, Megumi will also kill you… people will say shit. But I don’t care, not one bit, because I want this.” You put a shaky little hand over his big one, and watch him break down then, slamming his lips on yours, as your saliva mixes with both of your tears that fall.

“I love you so fuckin’ much doll.” He pulls back to whisper, his handsome face in a big grin now, and you can’t stop your smile. “I’ve never been more happy in my stupid, worthless fuckin’ life.”

“It’s not worthless, you’re not worthless Toji.”

“I was, doll. But I won’t be, not this time, I swear I’ll do everything right. I may fuck some shit up at times, but-”

“Stop that.” He pauses, taking a breath now. “I know you’ll be a good father, I know you’ll take care of me. I believe in you.”

Toji looks away, covering his face then. “You little brat, always making me cry like a lil bitch.”

You smile, damn near choking on emotion, turning his face back to you, your thumb brushes on that scar you love so much. “I’m gonna be a mommy, do you think I’ll be a good one? I don’t even know! I’m so nervous.”

He picks you up in his arms with ease, sitting you on the cold marble counter of the sink then, bending down and sliding your shirt up, kissing your tummy. Your sobs just get more intense at the beauty of the moment, as your hands run through his black silky hair.

“I know you’ll be the best, look how deeply you love an idiot like me.” He kisses your tummy again and again, big hands taking over your thighs, making you tremble, as you pull him back up.

“I’m scared but I want this. I do. I want to be a mommy. I want a life with you, I want to not be afraid to show ourselves, to just be…”

“Together.” he finishes, and you nod at that, as he kisses your lips so softly, so different from his rough, brutal kisses.

“Together.”

“How the fuck am I so lucky? I swear I’ll make sure you never regret-”

“Toji Fushiguro, I will never regret anything about me and you. Not you being my first, not having this baby, not anything. Got it, old man?”

He moans then, kissing you so deeply, and you both fall into each other, as the kisses get more intense, as his hands slide up to grip your breasts, so sensitive you scream damn near at his rough hands. He pulls back to look at you, hunger in those dark green pools, his black lashes low over them, lidded with desire.

“Imagine these with milk in ‘em, hmm Ma?” He whispers, pinching your nipples and filling you with insane images, you feel your cheeks flush as he sucks a nipple in his hungry mouth, and your back arches, head slamming against the mirror, as his thick fingers rub you over your silky Hello Kitty shorts.

“Mnh… gonna be a Daddy again, huh?” You whisper back, earning a groan that vibrates against the soft skin of your tits, and he’s rubbing your clit over your shorts, pressing the silky material between your lips, making you soak the material.

“I am gonna be a Daddy, and you’re gonna be a Mommy.” You nod eagerly, biting your lower lip when he presses up, and you’re leaning back to yank on your waistband, earning his chuckle. “So eager, slutty brat.”

“Shut up old man, and fuck me.” He scowls, earning your giggle, only for him to yank down your shorts, pulling you down and bending you over the counter, smacking your ass so hard you yelp. “Hey!”

“Gotta smack you while I can, fuckin brat.” He smacks you again, where you’re already sore and bruised, only earning you getting stupid wet. “Old man knocked you the fuck up, didn’t he.”

“He did. Mmm! Please…” He smacks you again, and pulls your hair then, you are biting your lip so hard it hurts, that pussy throbbing for him without even being fully touched.

“Address me the right way, damned brat.”

“Please fuck me, Daddy.” He moans then, sliding two fingers in your little cunt, they pulse around him instantly, you hear the loud squishy sounds in the room, and you catch his gaze in the mirror. His lips are parted, his eyes full of desire as they look at your face, glazed with lust.

“You’re so goddamn pretty, aren’t you, my doll.” He cooes then, pressing closer against you as his fingers work up and down, and he’s got the other hand on your throat, under your chin. “Look at that pretty lil face, all fucked out, begging for more. You want Daddy’s cock, don't ya.”

“I want it, please, please.” Your eyes shut at how good it feels, riding his hand eagerly, the rough pads of his fingertips pressing on that spongy spot as your slick little walls soak him, squeeze him. He’s squeezing more, tilting your chin up, so fucking huge behind you, taking over your little body.

“Beg for this cock, like a good girl f’me. You can do it, baby.” He whispers, putting that perfect pressure on your pulse point, as everything gets fuzzy, and even in the mirror you see it shaking, as he makes you dizzy.

“Please, put your cock in me Daddy, lemme cum all over it. I’m so wet for you, can’t you feel?” You arch your ass back, earning his loud groan, then his fingers slide out and you watch him suck them off with a moan, before he slides those gray sweats down and his cock presses on your entrance. “Y-yes, please… please…”

“I’ll give ya anything doll, anything you ask for like that.” He lifts you up, your legs dangling off the counter as he shoves his thick cock in then, and your pussy struggles to adjust, no matter how much you fuck Toji’s cock always takes work to handle. He uses one hand to grab your hip now, fucking into you as your hands cling to the smooth counter.

You’re dripping down Toji’s length as both his hands hold your hips, you’re suspended over this counter, helpless, as he rails your pussy so good. Your breath fogs up the mirror as he presses you forward with every stroke, your hand on it now, bracing yourself for his thrusts, as his eyes drink you in the reflection, growing smoky with every heavy breath.

“You’re so tight, fuck…” He moans then, easing out of you and making you whine out at the loss.

“Toji! Back in!”

“Impatient lil brat, hush.” He pulls you down then, turning you around and picking you up in his arms, kissing you deeply, carrying you to his room, laying your back on the soft bed, which creaks under his weight as he lays on you. “Gotta be a little more gentle with you now.”

“No you don’t… mmm… not yet.” He chuckles then, white teeth stark against his tanned skin, lighting his face up. You sigh as you study him. “My Daddy is so handsome, you know?”

“Mmm, and my doll is beautiful. Most beautiful thing I’ve ever fuckin’ seen. So pretty just f’me.” His kisses down your throat make you gasp as he slides back in, and your eyes roll back, with the pleasure of that stretch. He moans, hands taking over your waist, as your thighs wrap his hips, your heels pressing into his strong lower back.

You whimper when his hips snap, and that tip kisses your bruised cervix, head falling to the side, eyes fluttering shut. He’s kissing your throat as he fucks into you, lazy, slow strokes, sucking hard on your delicate skin. Your hands are clinging to his chest, feeling his steady heart under your palm, muscles contracting around his thick cock as he fucks you so good.

You can barely catch a breath as you see sweat dripping down his brow, as your eyes struggle to stay focused at how good he’s making you feel, as you hear the smacks of skin and your slick wetness loud in his quiet room, just the fan whirling above you. He slows even more, bracing a hand on the bed and the other hand cups your face, thumb pressing on your lower lip.

Toji just stares then, his mouth open ever so slightly, his eyes emotional, lashes trembling as his lids lower, and he’s slowly pressing in, making your back arch, making you gasp, your hands sliding down his taut muscles, the sides of his rib cage. Your nails press into his back as you roll your hips up, watching pleasure contort his face, which leans down low.

He’s right there, his heavy weight pressed against your aching breasts, your sore little nipples against a hot, hard chest. Your eyes lock, noses almost touching, as he rolls those hips again, hitting that spot inside you that makes you black out, and you’re convulsing around his length, his hand now sliding down your soft tummy, which trembles at the touch.

“Daddy…” You whisper, and he moans, slamming his lips again, before taking a breath and leaning back up.

“You’re too fuckin gorgeous, fuck. Killin’ me doll. Just looking at you, like I can’t even breathe.” You’re tearing up again, and he sighs. “Even pretty cryin’ like that, y’know that?”

“Fuck…” You pull him back down for a kiss, overwhelmed not just how good his cock feels, but how much you love this man. “You’re being too sweet, fuck me hard, okay?”

He laughs a bit, shaking his head, kissing your forehead again. “Can I not be sweet with ya once? Just once?”

“N-no, you’re nasty Toji, not sweet. Wreck my pussy.”

He laughs again, lifting a thigh and shoving in more, but he doesn’t rail you, or fuck you hard, or wreck your pussy, he’s still going achingly slow, now a thumb brushing your clit in teasing circles. You’re whining, limbs writhing under him, so sensitive, so on edge, your very soul aching for this man, the one who’s eliciting even more emotions than before at his slow pace.

At how he gazes at you.

At how he touches you.

At the clear love in his eyes.

“Can I not just enjoy my baby momma, huh? And her pretty face, her pretty body, take my time?” He murmurs, and now he’s wrecking your mind, as his slow thrusts start to feel so good, and so intense, along with the stimulation of your clit.

“It’s… y-you don’t do that, though.” You mumble, making him smirk, so sexy, that scar stretched under his dark stubble, as his thick tip drags along those little gummy walls that are wetter than ever.

“Let me try it once, yeah doll? Made you a Mommy, didn’t I?” He whispers, and you’re close then, as he thrusts in fully, pressing into your cervix, and pinching your little twitching clit between his fingers, making you scream out then.

“Y-yes, you did, Daddy… you did. Ah!” You’re screaming as you feel it, that pressure hits, and you’re about to burst.

“Lemme watch you cum, all over Daddy’s cock. Good girl.” You’re ended, he’s wrecked your mind, completely, as you shatter around him, cumming so hard you can’t see. You’re floating somewhere, before you return back to see Toji studying you, his perfect muscles tense as he does. “That’s it, lemme feel you doll, lemme feel.”

“Daddy!” You cry out, clinging to him as your orgasm washes over you, and he’s kissing you, groaning into your eager mouth, fucking quicker now, just a little rougher, fucking you into another orgasm. You’re crying out into his lips, nails digging into his skin, making him hiss, jaw tightening.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect f’me, doll. Just mine.”

“Just y-yours.”

He moans, and now he flips you, until you’re on top of him, and you brace yourself on his strong chest, palms under his collarbone, rolling your hips, head falling back. Your hair falls like a curtain down your back as Toji’s huge hands glide up your body, your tummy, your waist, settling there and urging you, lifting you up and down his long cock.

“Daddy… mmm!” You’re whimpering as you bounce up and down his cock, as Toji watches your eager cunt suck him in, your lips all puffy from being fucked so good last night. A creamy ring forms around the base of his cock, and he groans as your cunt keeps sucking him in so goddamn good.

Fuck you look so beautiful, his eyes hit your pretty face, all flushed from your exertions, tears leaving streaks on your cheeks, and your eyes look at him, cock drunk and fucked out. You’re so fucking sexy he can’t take it, sensitive as your muscles squeeze him, as your thighs tense around him, and you’re close again, he can feel you, he can feel it.

“Need me to help you, doll?” He murmurs, and you nod weakly, as he brings you forward, letting your rest on his chest, your breasts, so full, pressing on it, nipples tight and hard on his skin. Toji grips the fat of your hips, thumbs pressing into your pelvis now, placing his feet on the mattress. “Hang on to me, Ma.”

You eagerly listen, you’re not running your bratty mouth right now, though he loves your attitude, you just cling to him with your little hands, your eyes looking into his so lovingly, your lashes casting shadows on your cute little face. He thrusts up in and watches your head fall back, your mouth slack open, brows knitting as he fucks your cervix how you like.

“Want it hard now, doll?” He whispers, and you nod, your hair falling against his chest, so silky, as your pussy clenches around him.

You’re having his fucking baby, it’s so insane for Toji to think, that soon you’ll be so round with him, and he’s fucked a baby into you. He can’t wait to watch that glow you’ll get, can’t wait to see cute little stretchies on your perfect skin, see your tits get even bigger, dripping milk.

All the thoughts make Toji fuck you harder.

“Daddy!” You whine out, lips all pouty, and he’s ended, fuck he’ll do anything for his little doll.

“That’s it doll, cum all down me, make me fucking messy, sloppy lil cunt can do it can’t she?” You nod eagerly, and Toji fucks you harder now, as you’re looking right into those eyes, as his hands now grip your ass, dragging you down so hard you scream, and he rocks you against him, until your orgasm runs through you.

Your entire body lights up after you cum all over him, sticky and hot down his toned stomach, his thick muscled thighs, as you’re clinging to that strong neck, screaming out. “Daddy! F-fuck!”

“Good girl.” He whispers in that gruff voice, pulling you down again on his cock, and you’re weakly laying against him now, spent already, every touch making you jerk and twitch, every stroke having you drool. “That’s it, fucked your brains out, huh lil Mama?”

His words make it worse, you just weakly nod, clinging to him then. “Want your cum in me, please, please.”

He groans louder now, kissing you deeply, fucking up into you as you lay so useless on him, you can’t move or do a goddamn thing but cry out loudly as he pummels into your pussy. She’s squeezing around him as his lips devour you, messy and hungry, spit dripping out of your mouths, tongues swirling at the tip, his hands gripping your ass so tight as he bucks up.

“She’s milking me, so slutty, already knocked up y’know.” He huffs, and you can’t even speak, not when he’s fucking you so good. “Ready for all this, can ya take it all for me, Ma?”

“I can, I can, promise. Please.” You beg so pathetic, and he smirks at it, making you glare. “Just cum in me, fuck.”

“Pathetic-”

“Do it.”

“Bratty-”

“Cum in me, fuck! Want it, want it.” He kisses you then, shutting the fuck up for a moment, before he’s pouring so much cum it’s ridiculous, more than you’ve felt, and Toji comes a lot. You’re so warm you cum again just from feeling all that hot white seed pouring, coating your cunt. “Oh my God.”

“Oh my… fuck!” He whispers with you, as he’s pumping slowly, and his cum is dripping down his length, along with your wetness, messy as fuck, drooling down Toji’s tight balls as they relax and contract, pumping more and more. “Fuck… pussy is so perfect all f’me.”

“Mmm… all for you. It’s all for you.” You mumble, as he eases out of you then, and you lean back weakly, looking at his cock, thick and veiny, covered in all the remnants of cum that slipped out. “Fuck that’s sexy.”

“You like all that mess you make?” He strokes your hair as you kiss down his chest, pussy clenching around nothing with the aftershocks of him. You nod then, hair falling along his skin, making hom brush it back, holding it like a pony tail now.

“You’re the messy one, Daddy. Look at all this.” You click your tongue, looking teasingly up at him now, your fingers sliding down his cock to his balls, fingering the sticky mess. He moans, hips arching, and you smile then up at him. “Should I clean you up Daddy?”

“Only if I get to clean you after.” You grin, nodding, then you slide your tongue down his length then, bracing yourself on the bed as you taste your sweetness and his saltiness, mixing so yummy on your tongue, watching him, his perfect body. His handsome face contorted in pleasure.

“Mmm, we do taste yummy, don’t we?” You whisper, and you’re holding his cock now, still hard, sucking it down your throat, as he jerks at the sensations. You lean down, licking the cum off his balls, cupping them, and he’s hissing at that, pulling at your hair now. “What?”

“Fucking sensitive, brat.” You giggle at that, earning his angry glare.

“Toji has no one sucked on these?”

“And have you!?”

“No! But you’re a hoe.”

“Well you’re the freakiest fuck I’ve had.” You giggle again, stroking his sticky cock, sucking it, cheeks hollowing. “Slutty lil girl.”

“Mmm.” You just moan against him as he’s pulling your hair so good, cupping your face with his other hand, watching his eight pack tense up, making every muscle more defined for your hungry eyes. You’re taking him all in, breathing through your nose, feeling his tip thicken, stretching in your throat.

“Fuck, doll… you’re so good at that, goddamn… f-fuck, stop that.” You’re lavishing his balls again, making him yank you up.

“You like it! Is nasty Toji afraid of something!?”

“It makes me wanna bust, stop it.” You suck on them again as you stroke his cock in little wet twists, his precum already pouring out of his tip, and his moans fill the room, along with the sounds of your sucking and licking. “You fuckin brat, get up here right now.”

You finally suck his cock again, licking the underside and watching that hunger on his face. “Is Daddy too sensitive?”

“Fuck you, brat.” You grin, licking his tip and sucking that white pearl of precum on that reddened tip, and he damn near whimpers, fascinating you, only for you to be flipped on your back.

“I was having fun, mean Daddy.” You glare, and he glares right back, kissing himself right off you, one elbow resting on the bed as he runs a finger along your lower lip.

“Who knew you’d be such an annoying, freaky lil slut?”

“Me!? You!”

He smirks then, kissing you, before shoving you up the bed, kissing down your breasts, sucking on your nipples again. Your hands cling to the blankets as he fingers the sticky mess you both have made, between puffy sore lips, you’re twitching just like he was as he kisses down your tummy now, grabbing your hips as he settles between your thighs.

“Gonna clean you up now, lil Mama. Yeah?” You nod eagerly, as he pushes your thighs even further apart.

“Please, clean me up. S-so messy- ah!” He’s lavishing your cunt with his hot, wet tongue then, slipping right up your slit, and he’s parting your folds, watching his cum ooze out of your little hole, moaning.

“Look at all this cum you took, just slipping outta this little cunt, mmm.” He’s moaning then, licking it right out of you, scooping all his cum out with his practiced tongue, and you’re screaming at how good it feels.

It damn near hurts, you’re so oversensitive, as you feel his teeth on your lips, his tongue in your hole, his straight nose bumping your clit. You’re clinging to his hair, shoving his face deeper, feeling his moans vibrate your sensitive pussy, as his big hands squeeze your thighs bruisingly, and you’re close again.

“Cumming, cumming!” You cry out, and he looks at you under thick black brows, his hair falling in front of his brows as he fucks you with that long tongue, relentless strokes, and you’re spasming around him now. “Ah!”

You scream as you cum so goddamn hard, hurting as your pussy is clenching around the invasion of his tongue, all while he keeps moaning, making you a goddamn mess. He pulls back, face soaked and sticky, lifting your ass up then, swiping his tongue along that little hole he’d fucked last night, still so sore you cry out, before sliding back up your cunt again, all the way to your clit.

“Sensitive!” You whine out now, earning his chuckle, and a shake of his head, as he flicks his tongue on your clit again.

“Now you can’t handle it, huh brat?” You pout all cute, he thinks, but he’s still gonna have to teach you a lesson.

You do love learning from him.

“Let’s try something.” You tense then, blinking, for Toji is freaky as hell and you never know what that mind’s up to. Then he angles two of his fingers in your cunt as he slides a thumb from his other hand in your ass, and you cry out at it.

“F-fuck, ow, shit! Ah!” You’re a mess now, as he smirks over you, and you’re trying to hold a glare as he works your holes so goddamn good, watching you shiver and twitch and jerk. You’re soaking him everywhere, as your cum and the last bits of his own are pouring down Toji’s fingers.

“Knew it, so slutty. Gotta be filled so much just to shut your mouth.” You yank on his hair then, pulling him down and he winces at the pull.

“Fuck you, Old man.” You whisper, biting his lip, and he scowls, shoving fingers deep everywhere, making you so full you can’t take it, it’s too much.

“Fuck me, huh? After I was so sweet with ya, you’re such a lil bitch. Maybe having my baby will calm you down.”

“Will not, fuck!” You’re cumming again, proving his point, but you love it, you love when you’re throbbing around him, when he sucks you off his fingers again. “Daddy… can’t cum anymore.”

“No, doll, you can.” He keeps fingering you, scissoring the two fingers your cunt sucks up, then pressing that thumb deep in your ass, until you’re cumming so hard you’re a mess again, and he then shoves your thighs up high, pressing them against your breasts.

“Mating press… I’m… pregnant, fucking…”

“Gotta do it while I can, doll, ya won’t bend like this soon.” Toji’s deep in your sore cunt, making you cry, and he’s leaning on the backs of your thighs, his weight so heavy as he cups your face. “How many loads can you take, Ma, huh?”

“One more. One more.”

“Good, good girl.” He’s fucking you so good you can’t take it, every stroke stinging your sore little hole, but you crave it, you love it, being smushed as he hits so deep. His balls slap on your hole, as his thrusts get brutal, as he leans up, angling his hips just so, and you’re screaming as another orgasm makes you weak. “Fucking you stupid.”

“Sh-shut up… old man… ah! Fuck you!”

“Fuck me, huh? Nah. Fuck you pretty lil doll.” He’s spread your thighs wider now, hand on your throat, and you eagerly cling to his arm as he’s hitting it so goddamn hard, as the bed is creaking, as the headboard smacks against the wooden wall. He moans as he squeezes you tighter. “Shut that mouth so easily.”

“Mmm…” Is all you manage to squeak out, as he rails your cunt so good, until he’s busting again, filling you more and more, as he releases you and you try to come to reality. Then he’s kissing you gently, holding you in his arms, and you cling to him, weak and boneless, so shaky. “Toji…”

“Too rough doll? We can’t go rough soon.”

“Oh stop, I’m good. We have a long way for that.” You brush back his sweaty hair as you both catch your breath, as he’s running his big hand up and down your body, making goosebumps rise everywhere. “I am scared, Toji.”

He eases out carefully, pulling you to lay on your side, holding you as you rest on his strong bicep, brushing your hair back in careful strokes. “I won’t fuck it up, I swear I won’t leave you, I won’t. I will do right by you.”

“No, not that. Oh god, no I know that.” He gulps, as you hear that pain again in his voice, you feel it.

“I can’t forgive myself for being a fucking idiot, but I am different now.”

“I know.” You kiss his chin, where that little cleft is, feeling his stubble tickle your soft lips. “I’m scared of… telling dad.”

“Shit.” He sighs then, as you both caress each other, a tangle of limbs in the quiet room. “Shit…. Fuck… shit.”

“Yes, eloquent man. Shit fuck shit.”

“Brat.”

You both snort then, as you snuggle to him, burying your head against the crook of his neck, pecking little kisses. “We have to tell him you know.”

“Tell my kid to remember who I was.”

“Oh stop!” You shove at him playfully, but his brows are drawn low, as he studies you. “What is it?”

“I don’t wanna ruin your life.”

“You won’t, you couldn’t. I’ll finish my school and then… you know what, a baby won’t stop journalism. Nope. She can sit on my lap as I work.”

He grins then, love so pure in his forest eyes, as they look everywhere on your face. “Yeah? A lil girl you think?”

You nod. “I do. A sweet little girl. You’ll be wrapped around her finger, you’ll spoil her won’t you?”

“Damn right I will, I’ll give her anything, and say ‘don’t tell mom’.” You both laugh at that, as your heart clenches. “Thank you for this.”

“For getting pregnant?”

“For giving me a chance I don’t deserve.” You kiss him again, shaking your head, as he’s gripping your body so tight you can barely breathe, clinging to you.

“You deserve it. You do.” You pull away, taking shaky breaths then. “It’s not what I planned, but you know… I think I couldn’t be happier. I will not clean your house though.”

“The fuck, why not!?”

“I’ll do dishes and laundry. That’s it.”

“That’s it? Then no pussy eating.”

“Hey!” He’s chuckling as you playfully smack at him, wrapping your thigh around his hips, kissing down your neck. “Fine I will also sweep and mop.”

“There we go, we’re already compromising.” He hums as he kisses down your collar bone, as you stroke his back gently. “I’ll cook half the time.”

“I’m good with that, I like to cook. Mmm… Toji…”

“Yeah, doll.”

“This is acting as if you’ll survive.” He sighs, resting his head on your chest, squeezing on your breasts like they’re his stress balls, making you smirk.

“I’m scared we also gotta tell Megumi you’re his step mom.” You gasp, shaking your head.

“What? We’re not married, old man.”

He glares up at you. “We will get married.”

You lean up then in shock. “What, old fashioned ass man!?”

“Imma beat your ass so hard.”

“Don’t I’m sore!” You pout, but he’s dead serious with his anger. “Shit… Toji you don’t wanna marry for real do you?”

“Of course I do, and will, you’re gonna have my kid, we gotta get married. I need you as my wife and baby mama.” You blink a bit, sucking in a breath.

“Is this some proposal!?”

“You keep ignoring my proposals.”

“Well they’re all shit. Ow!” He smacks the fuck out of your ass now, making you wince. “Sorry… they’re not that good.”

“I’m not good at this shit.” He nips your collar bone now, before looking at you a little more soft now. “Do you not wanna marry me?”

“I mean… of course I do, dumb man.”

“This mouth…”

“But like this is assuming you survive. You’ll have to ask my dad for my hand in marriage.” You say with a big grin, and Toji buries his face again, grimacing, as you laugh softly. “It’s like a video game, main quest.”

“Stupid brat, this isn’t some Zelda game.”

“It’s even harder.”

“Shut it.” He leans up on an elbow now, shaking his head as he plants a sloppy kiss on your lips, and you melt into it, heart fluttering with excitement. “Fine, if he gives me permission you’ll marry me, and soon. Before the baby comes.”

Your tummy clenches, as the stress of telling your dad looms, but it mixes with the thoughts of spending your life with him, in this cabin he lives in, that he’s built so much of. Being Toji’s little wife was never, ever in your plans, but something shoves that last shred of feminism far away, and you dream of that domestic bliss that you could have with your gruff old man.

“You really think he’ll do it?” You ask, and he sighs.

“Fuck no. I’m gonna get killed. But I’ll try, for you. Besides, he’s gonna be a grandpa you know.” Toji grins, and you gasp.

“You’re the worst! Oh fuck he’s gonna kill us both.” You slam your eyes shut, smacking your forehead. “My only hope is to plead with him, and maybe he’ll forgive us, and wanna spend time with the baby.”

“He won’t be mad at you. Just me.”

You sigh again. “When should we call?”

“Nah, doll, I’m a man. We’re gonna have to go face to face.”

Shit.

*****

The drive to your dad's place feels like it takes an eternity as you and Toji have made the trek a few days later. The doctor had confirmed you are indeed pregnant, about three months, which means Toji had indeed gotten you pregnant during Spring break, and though you both were so fucking happy, this was looming over you both, to actually tell Shiu.

 You don’t know if you can handle the disappointment he’ll have with you, though Toji says it will only be anger geared at him. But you don’t want your dad angry at him, you love Toji, and you hate having to choose one or the other. You wonder at what exactly you’ll say, you keep practicing as you both sit in the car in awkward silence, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

When you finally pull up, Toji squeezes your hand reassuringly. “Doll, it’ll be fine, I can take hits.” You snort at that, tensing then as you see the shadow of your dad walking across the kitchen window. Shit. "Ready?"

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach. "As ready as I'll ever be."

With that, you get out of the car and walk up to the front door, hand in hand with Toji. His grip is firm, giving you the courage you need for what's about to come, but it’s terrifying, not knowing how he’ll take this. As you stand on the doorstep, you feel his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand, and you look up at him, before taking a deep breath and knocking on the door.

After the longest moment of your damn life, the door swings open, and there's your dad, Shiu Kong looking at you both with a mix of surprise and curiosity, before he sees Toji. His mouth is dropped open, as he glares between the both of you, and your joined hands, and his coffee cup he’d been holding crushes against his big hand, the pieces shattering to the floor.

“Dad… Dad calm down, I-”  The words are barely out of your mouth when he lunges at Toji, his fist flying through the air. Toji's eyes widen in shock, but he doesn't flinch, bracing himself for the impact as you desperately try to pull on him. “Dad, fucking stop! Don’t!”

Shiu looks at you sadly, shaking his head, before scowling at Toji. “What the fuck are you doing with her!? Are you trying to ruin her goddamn life? I’ll fucking kill you Toji if you touched her again.”

Toji sighs, muscles tense, waiting for your dad to wail on him at any given moment. “You wanna tell him, doll, or should I?”

“Don’t call her doll, fucking pervert! Tell me what!?” He looks at you then, and you take a shaky breath, putting a hand on your tummy, looking down.

Then it all connects, Shiu looks at your hand there, and his brown eyes widen in horror. “No, no… don’t tell me-”

“Dad, I’m pregnant.” You say then, and in a blink of an eye he lunges, before you can stop him, and punches your baby daddy/fiance!?... Toji. Right in the damn face, you don’t know how he stays standing. “Dad, stop!”

“You got her pregnant!? Toji Fushiguro, you’re fucking dead!”

Well… fuck.

Chapter 12

[deseraethesimp]

Professor & His assistant

Prof!Simon Riley & Afab!reader

Wanings: A little age gap, oral (fem reciving), pure nsfw

This was kinda short, and I might’ve not spell checked it...

                                         ꧁•⊹٭!!Minors DNI!!٭⊹•꧂

You were always somehow the teachers pet, no matter how much trouble you have gotten into. You decided to be a teacher...Assistant, but it wasn’t to bad, Mr.Riley was very funny once you had gotten close.

You were in your little business casual outfit, and he loved the way it lightly hugged your curves and every imperfection that he needed to touch. Today he was letting you teach a topic you really liked and always talked about, while you were standing at the lecture stand and he was staring where ever he could. you knew it to, the way he secretly drooled over those tits, ass, thighs, face, hair, eyes, ANYWHERE. You were finished, Class was over you were worn out mentally. You put in your air-pods and began listening to music, you bent over to grab your bag and Simon saw a peak of your panties. He knew it was perverted but something about that made him painfully hard, you grabbed your stuff and walked to him. “Mr. Riley?” he looked at you “Yes Y/n?” “today was really fun but I’m worn out” your laugh made him blush a bit. You and him made conversation when he asked “Do you wanna come to my place” you were so confused but you perked up and smiled “Ofc!” you nudged him a bit “are we gonna talk about boys and do each others hair~?” He smiled a bit                                               ~LATER~

You were on your phone listening to music off one airpod, wearing some pj pants and a tight shirt. He was just watching TV, texting someone..You got up and hopped on him “SOoooOO who ya texting that’s gotta be sooo secretive sir?” he heard the music from your airpod and you smiled “Is it a girl” you gasped “IS SHE PRETTY??” you continued questioning him before he finally answered “Its one of my friends from the military before I had to leave” your eyes widened “You were in the military? Is that why your strong, or you have that tattoo? Or your so muscular, o-” he put his hand over your mouth “Never knew you were so curious” he sighed “Yes to all your silly questions” His thick accent..how big he was compared to you, the way he looked at you, how small you were on one thigh. All of this hit you in one wave of arousal and you moved your hips back and fourth one time. Maybe he didn’t notice luckily? You wrapped your hands around his wrist and pulled his hand off your mouth. “Their not silly!” you rolled your eyes “I think as a little teachers pet I could be curious?”  he smiled a little bit “Yeah a little too curious luvie” his hands slowly trecked down to your hips.

You began moving back and fourth slowly, whining softly, his hands moving all around you. Their was a cum stain in your panties now after getting off, Simon pushed you down on the couch. Your back hitting the cushions, he slowly slid off your pants and panties. Your inner thighs and cunt covered in slick and your own cum now, he licked a small stripe up. You clasped your thighs together, ringing his head like a bell hips bucking up “S-sorry I’m super sensi-” He had no time to talk or no way to talk being muffled. He was eating you out like a starved man, Overstimulating you to the brink of seeing outer space. He lifted up cover in every liquid he made come out, he quickly grabbed his phone taking a picture of you. Bottom half exposed in a bra, he had the flash on you covered your face and turned to the side.

He took very good care of you and made you his Home screen but only the face part. With your sweaty hands and messed up hair...He smiled everytime he saw it. He fed you some very good food, you didn’t know what it is but you listened to music and fell alseep after being worn out

BONUS: The next day, even though he didn’t pound your guts like you hoped your legs were still jello. Due to it being your first time being touched by someone who wasn’t your hands. You still think about it in class, though it hurts to walk you still made it. He practically laughed in your face when he looked at you with a shit eating grin.

YALL IM SO FUCKIN PROUD OF MYSELF THIS IS MY LONGEST PEICE OF WRITING TAKING ME 2 FULL HOURS YAYYY!!! - Xoxo Desi Boo

[first-edition]

Ride or Die

Smut-mas day 2

Bucky Barnes x reader

Sum- The only way to get what you want is to get on top of your boyfriend.

Cw- power bottom! Bucky, Dom! bucky, pet names, Daddy kink, oral! Male recving, fingering, cussing, NO protection (wrap it before you tap it), sex, smut, age gap (obviously he’s 104), 18+ languages and themes.

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE

You dance around the bedroom the oversized shirt your wearing occasially hikes up exposing your panties. 

“Bucky!” You exclaim as your boyfriend walks into the room setting down his black duffle bag kicking off his boots. 

“hey doll.” He says closing the door then walking over to you and pulling your too him pecking your lips. Then pulls away to the dresser pulling off his shirt. 

“come dance with me.” You say smiling holding your arms out.

“mm-mm honey.” He says shaking his head no. You pout but get an idea. You pull up your shirt slightly exposing your Lacey panties. 

“you sure you dont wanna dance james?” You ask. 

He turns around scoffing at your actions. As a sensual song comes on. You sway your hips to it slowly lifting your shirt higher. 

“your gonna get in trouble. Stop it.” He says he says taking off his belt putting it to the side on the dresser. 

“what? You dont like what you see?” You say turning your back to him continuing to dance. 

“no princess you know I love what it see.” He says 

You smile lean forward exposing your ass to him. He sighs walking over to you shaking your ass causing you to squeal and stand up straight he pushes your back against his chest holding his metal hand around your neck. 

“im not gonna dance with you honey…but i’ll fuck the shit outta you.” You replies. You bite your lip. 

“is that a threat or a promise sergeant?” You ask.

“It’s an order.” He says and turns you around keeping his hand around your throat. 

“Panties off.” He says letting go you obey and take off your underwear he takes it from your hand and walks over to the door opening it and placing them on the door handle. You gasp quietly in slight embarrassment. He closes the door leaving the out there. 

“since you wanna be a brat everyone can know your being punished…arms up.” He retorts you listen and he pull the shirt off over your head letting it fall to the floor.

“look at me.” He says you turn your head away from him your now blushing, naked body, exposed before him.

“I’m not gonna ask you again. Look at me doll.” He says. You ignore im looking away bashfully. He sighs running his fingers through his hair chuckling. 

He grabs your jaw sharply and pulls you head to the side to face him, forcing you to look at him. 

“Knees.” He demands nodding his head down to you. You obey quickly and get on your knees sitting back on your heels. Your faced with the growing budge in his pants. 

He undoes his pants letting his member spring free almost hitting you in the face. causing you to flinch leaving bucky amused. 

You open your mouth expecting him to use you mouth. 

“close your mouth your gonna sit there and watch me pleasure myself. In stead of you doing it for me. Arnt you?” He asks. 

“yes daddy.” You reply

He takes himself in his hand stroking himself. You watch him oh so wanting to do it for him. 

You reach you hand up to touch him. 

“hands behind your back.” He says noticing your efforts. You give him puppy eyes which he sees right through. 

“Now!” He says harshly. You obey him putting your hands behind your back holding onto your elbows. 

“look at you so obedient, and to think when i walked in here you were trying to be a big girl?” He huffs continuing to stroke him self now picking up speed. 

You cross your ankles the ache in your pussy becoming stronger seeing your man do something you want to do for him is hurt you. You pride your self in knowing Bucky spots, whether that be pushing his buttons or making him cum.

“please..” you muster up enough confidence you beg him.

“What was that?” He asks 

“please..” 

“please what?” 

“p-please fuck me. Please daddy.” You reply 

“open your mouth” he says you obey taking him in your mouth. Sucking on him making him groan. 

“ah..fuck.” You sighs pulling your hair back. 

“U-use your hands to doll.” You say you hum in happiness as your hand takes ahold of him stroking him. The vibration from you humming into him makes him twitch. 

“shit.” He gasps and smiling throwing his head back in pleausre. You Continue to suck him off bobbing your heading and swirling your tounge. He hisses in as you feel him at the back of your throat cumming. 

You pull off him opening your mouth so he can see its all gone. 

“good job doll.” He says and picks you up putting you on the bed as he pulls off his pants you sit up as he walks over to you. You wrap your arms around his neck kissing him he kisses you back deeply. His hands wander your waist. Eventually one makes its way to your ass giving it a squeeze causing you to gasp giving his tounge entry. 

He pulls away to kiss down your neck and check marketing sure to mark you on the way as he meets your breasts taking one in his mouth sucking on you nipple and flicking it with with his tounge making you moan when his hand presses against your clit stroking up and down your slit. 

“fuck so wet…sucking me off turn you on that much?” He asks you nod looking up at him through your lashes. 

“such a slut.” He says his eyes growing dark. 

“im your slut daddy.” You retort. 

“hmm that you are.” He says pushing you back onto the bed moving his hand between your legs rubbing you. 

“NGH.” You gasp. Biting your lip. He pushes his finger into you moving it back and forth thrusting it into you as his thumb plays with your clit. Already having you squirming he adds another finger roughly finger fucking you. 

Making you a rithing moaning mess. 

You clench around his finger the feeling of your climax hitting you. He pulls away all contact with you. As you pant. 

“your not gonna be a pillow princess today doll you gonna work for it.” He huffs pulling you up over him as you straddling him. 

You sit up as he angles himself to you with out a warning he thrusts up into you. Making you scream out a moan. 

He roughly fuck you thrusting his hips into yours. Instantly making you cum. Your eyes roll back in your head as he puts his hand to your neck keeping you in place. 

“ah fuck yes.. such a good fucking pussy.” He comments  “p-please daddy ah.” You moan. 

“move your hips honey work for another one.” He says you do basisicly twerking on his dick as it hits your spot over and over over stimulating you. His tip pounding into your cervix.

His other hand grips and massages your breasts. Pinching at your nipples. 

Your mouth opens to an O as you feel the second orgasam hit you. Another pornographic moan leaving your mouth. 

“daddy. Ah daddy!” You preach his name over and over as his metal hand moves to you clit rubbing it as you fuck your self on his dick. 

“how badly you want me to fuck you?!” he asks groaning.

“s-so bad…please.” You say. You pulls out of you and flips you over one your back as he hovers over your thrusting into you. 

He pulls your arms above your head, and puts your leg over his shoulder as he rails you. 

Moans and the sound of skin hitting skin fills the room. You beg bucky as you feel your third orgasam hitting you. It comes in a giant wave rushing over you. Bucky overstimulating you making your legs shake under him. You clench around his dick making his thrust deeply inside of you cumming hard. 

Your heart beats fast and your breaths stutter your try to catch your breath as he fuck you through your climax’s. Your head spins. As you pass out a few seconds. Bucky kisses up and down you body giving you much needed love. 

He pulls out of you getting up and walking over to the built in bathroom in your room grabbing a damp cloth. He comes back to you running the cold wash cloth along your body while leaving kisses cleaning you up a bit he walks back into the bath room turning on the bath water making sure its not too hot. 

You walks back into your sight and puts on his boxers. 

“come on doll.” He says kissing your forehead. Picking you up as if your glass holding you close to him making sure your getting all the cuddles. He sits on the stool in the bathroom holding in his arms until the water in high enough and set you carefully in turning it off. 

“stay.” You pout. as he get up to walk back out. “ill be right back to sit with you doll, I gotta get you underwear off the door on first.” You chuckles pushing his hair back. Your eyes widen as cheeks turn red as you completely forgot. He chuckles walking out of the bathroom to retrieve to undergarment on the door. Later coming back to you and joining you in the bath.

[rinsaint]

MILF FUCKER <3

ft. Aran, atsumu, && iwaizumi !!

cw. legal age gap (reader is 29 they are 19), milf fucking duhh, infidelity, tit play, atsumu has a filthy filthy mouth, fucking on a yoga mat, breeding, degrading, oral, riding, spit, unprotected sex, one smack to the ass, marking, making out !!

ARAN: Aran is definitely known in the group for fucking women older than him and that are milfs. And when he gets tease cause of it by his friends, he quickly denies it saying it’s not true. Which is obviously a lie. You, his next door neighbour who happen to be older than him and have 3 kids. He took interest into you quickly because you spiked curiosity in him. Always so sweet, giggling and touching his beefy arm that he has worked hard for — fuck how could he not be attracted to you. And you were a divorced women? it was a win for him, atsumu would say. Your kids were staying with their father for the weekend and as you were making yourself coffee you noticed how you were out of milk. So you went to your next door neighbour aran to borrow a cup of milk. When aran opened the door he was shirtless and wore a sweatpants that showed his dick print. You gulped slightly. And that’s how you ended up with your face pushed into the mattress of his sheets, thrusting his cock in and out of your warm and tight cunt. You let out a pitched moan when he landed a smack on your ass making you clench around him. “Yea? you like that little slut? getting pounded into with my big cock?” You nodded your head and let out a cry as he sped up his pace. “c-cummin’ aran! m’gonna cum please.” He pushes your head down more as he slowed his thrust down but banged his hips into your ass. Each thrust he gave you knocked the wind out of you had you coming with a moan of his name. He bit his lip as you gushed around him, letting your juices soak his cock. Not long after he had came inside you. He pushes his cock real deep into you so you can feel his seed in you. So you can know he’s in you. Maybe his stupid friends were right.

ATSUMU: definitely a person who is also known to fuck women older than them that has kids. He has no shame about it either. His current interest was in you — ‘samu’s worker that worked at his food restaurant. And god were you hot. Your breast poking out of your work outfit and the pants of your work outfit making your ass look big. ‘Tsumu can’t help but want to talk to you. So he asks samu about you and he learns that you are a married women with 4 kids. Married huh? He didn’t care, it was no problem for him. So tsumu strikes a conversation with you at work and he finds you intriguing. I mean god — whoever guy that’s married to you obviously isn’t doing something right because when atsumu brings up that you’re married, you have a forced smile telling him that you’re happily married. Bullshit, he thinks. You two became closer and actually became friends. And you aren’t obvious to his flirting, and you’d never admit but you liked the attention he gave you other than your husband who comes home and never pays any attention to you. And atsumu knows that. And he knows you know he knows that. And that’s why when your husband took your children to see their grandparents for a while, atsumu is quick to come over to your house and fuck you until the only word you know is his name. Atsumu groans as you bounce up and down on his thick cock, gripping on e of your tits and sucking on your harden bud. You grip onto his shoulders letting out a whimper, “‘atsu, m’so close, need your help please!” And who is he to deny his love? He grips onto your hips lifting you up and switching the position you two were in so now your laying under him. He grabs his cock and you whisper out when he thrust back into you in one quick motion. He grabs under your thighs and starts fucking into your cunt like an animal. “Fuck baby— ya cunt squeezin’ ma so hard. ya liked getting fuck by me don’t ya? such a slutty whore. imagine what yer husband might think if he ever sees you whining and begging f’me.” At his filthy words spilling from his mouth, you bring him closer to you and grip onto his undercut as you come. He groans feelinfs the way you squeeze him and comes right after you. You’re about to get up but stop as atsumu pushes you back down on the bed. “Ya think we are done baby? nah, m’gonna fuckin’ breed ya until yer stuffed with ma babies.”

IWAIZUMI: Iwaizumi knew you had kids and were divorced because you were a regular incomer at his workout place. Everytime you come there he helps you with a few stretches and he can tell you are stressed. As he’s stretching you, he notices something is wrong so he asks you about it. You tell him about how the kids father is still trying to fight for custody over the children and how work is kicking your ass. And iwaizumi tries to pay attention he does — but when you let out that high pitched groan when he pushes your leg down to your chest, he gulps as he’s making eye contact with you which feels like forever. He could honestly get lost into your mesmerising eyes. He let out a cough and adverted his eye contact. He puts your leg down and says you two should take a break. You grab onto his arm telling him to wait, he looked back at you and is surprised to feel your lips on his. And god does he grip your cheek so fast and press his lips into you more to deepened the kiss. He pushes you down slightly on the mat and takes his shirt off. It’s all so quick, just minutes ago he’s stretching you out, the tension thick, and now he’s having a taste of your cunt that he’s been thinking about. God this was so unprofessional considering he was at work doing this, but he didn’t care, all he cared about was you and the way you taste. He pulls away from your dripping cunt and gives you a kiss on the cheek as you whine. “Hold on baby, m’gonna give you the real think mhm.” He said, as he pulled his short and underwear down in one quick motion. He spits in his hands and slowly jerks himself and lines his cock up with your entrance. Your grip onto his shoulders and whine when he pushes his thick cock inside of you. You pull iwa down into a kiss as he pulls out again and slams into you. You wrap your legs around his torso as you moan into the kiss, fuck he was so close but he wanted you to come first. He put his thumb on your clit and roughly rubbed circles on it making you clench around him. “baby fuck, m’gonna cum f’you please!” You whimpered out and came around him scratching and arching your back. iwa lets out a groan and pushed into you as much as he can and came inside of you.

[diegos-butt]

Driving me crazy pt. 6

Captain Nathan Syverson x Hazel Murphy (plus size!tall ofc)

Summary: Nathan and Hazel are alone in a room. Wondering what'll happen? Read and find out ;)

Warnings: sweaty!Sy, maybe some kissing? wait what did i say? kissing? uh? no i didn't. okay yeah i did.

Wordcount: 1k.

A/N: a little later than i hoped but here it is! Once I got into the flow I don’t know what happened. My fingers slipped okay!!!! I think this is the first make out session I wrote that I’m actually a little proud of.

< part five // masterlist

•••

The days after their talk on the porch were busy. Guest came and go. Problems needed to be solved, guests needed to be taken care of, Hazel needed to make sure the inn kept being up and running together with Harper, and Nathan? He was busy renovating some outdated rooms.

The one who came up with that idea? Ma Syverson of course. She figured he should be at the inn some more, and she figured Hazel was more than capable of helping him here and there whenever she could.

That’s why Hazel was tearing down old wallpaper, sweating, and looking a little dishevelled. The reason? The wallpaper wasn’t exactly come off easy, not at all. Nathan stood on the other side of the room, doing the same. Struggling as well.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she looked him up and down. The long-sleeved sweatshirt he was wearing long gone, he was just wearing a tight black t-shirt and tight jeans. The question why he wore everything so tight almost slipped her mouth, but she quickly held it back, not wanting him to change it. It made her workdays far more interesting.

Nathan did the same, eyeing her up and down, but he did it at the moments she had just looked away. Hazel wore jeans that accentuated her voluptuous behind. He thought back about their talk on the porch, he had a hard time not to go to fast. But he knew she needed a little time, that just didn’t keep him from not teasing her.

“Ya need me to come help over there sunshine?”

Hazel scoffed, faking annoyance and turned around. Nathan was watching her, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. She gulped, his arms were huge, but today they seemed even bigger. Awaiting her reply he cocked his eyebrow.

Nathan watched her froze in the moment. The energy in the room was switching. Suddenly a tension shifted around them. He could hear her heavy breathing; she had never been speechless around him. Not even after their talk. Not until now.

Her lips slightly agape, her tongue darted out, unvoluntary licking them. Hazel knew she couldn’t deny her attraction for him much longer. She knew he was able to resist himself, but she wasn’t so sure she could resist him anymore. Not while he looked like this, not while he treated her like that, not while he made her laugh and feel good all the time.

Slowly her feet took a small step. And another. Holding his breath, Nathan had a hard time not to rush forward. To take her in his arms and blow her mind away. But seeing her take the initiative, shooting her shot, was so incredibly hot to him.

Getting a little self-conscious, Hazel hesitated to take another step. What was she even doing? But with a simple word Nathan took away all the doubts.

“C’mere.”

Taking two big steps, and she was right in front of him. Her hands hovered over his chest, while directly looking in his eyes. The urge to be closer to him was too big, so she closed the small gap between them and snuck her hands around his neck.

Nathan’s hands wrapped around her waist, resting above the curve of her ass. He could feel her heartbeat going fast against his chest. Not sure for how much longer he could let her have the reigns, he pressed her a little closer to him. The softness of her body against his hard one being a welcoming contrast.

Hazel realized she was so close to him, that their noses were almost touching. Staring into his blue eyes, she nudged her nose against his and couldn’t help but let out a small, nervous chuckle. He was patient, but she could feel the storm going on inside him.

That’s when they both closed the space between their lips. Softly at first, a few long pecks, him nibbling on her lower lip.

But then his hand wrapped around the side of her neck, fingers grazing her jaw. Her mouth opened and without wasting a second, he devoured her.

Moaning into her mouth, his other hand slid lower and squeezed the soft flesh. Hazels hands were touching him all over as well; his chest, back, neck, even his ass.

Needing a little air, their lips disconnected, foreheads leaning against each other. He watched her, her face flustered and eyelids barely open. Seeing her like this made him feral; if she already looked like this after making out, how would she look like when he gave her his all? He thought he wouldn’t survive that, until she spoke and proved to him she had more ways to destroy him.

“Sy,” Hazel whined.

“Yeah baby?”

“More.” The word could barely be heard, but he did. Capturing her lips once more was all he could do.

He moved them around, so Hazel was pressed against the wall. His thick thigh immediately between hers, offering her some relief which she was grateful for.

She rolled her hips against his thigh, and the grunt that Nathan made was inhuman. Yet it was a sound she wouldn’t mind hearing more often.

His lips moved to her neck, sucking on the skin behind her earlobe. With trembling hands, she caressed his neck. “Fuck, Sy.”

He groaned, and his hand wandered lower, over her ass to her thigh until he reached her knee. He was about to lift it up, until the door swung open.

Ma Syverson barged in.

“Oh, look at that! You two are almost done tearing down all this wallpaper! Isn’t this a beautiful room Jack?” Ma Syverson began speaking to another employee, ignoring the fact her son and Hazel were panting and tangled in each other’s arms.

Quickly letting go of each other, Hazel fake coughed and straightened her clothes. Nathan stepping away, cursing under his breath. He should remembered to lock the room next time.

•••

part seven

[epicstuckyficrecs]

Weekly Recap | February 8-21 2021

You get two weeks worth of fics this time because I got too busy last weekend and didn't have time to do my weekly recap :)

Complete

Evanstan Week 2021 by luninosity/ @luninosity​ (Evanstan | 10K | Mature): All my Evanstan Week little fics!

1. dodger 2. kisses  3. on set  4. first times (a first kiss, at least)  5. in space (alternate universe)  6. fluff  7. holiday 

💙  Remote Access by Kalee60/ @kalee60​ (Modern AU, Roommates | 57K | Explicit): Bucky Barnes was in trouble. More trouble than he ever thought he could get into as a grown adult. And it was caused by two singular factors that should never have become entwined.One, his god-like housemate Steve Rogers, who was unfairly handsome and the perfect specimen of man in not only looks but personality - and completely out of Bucky’s league.Two, Bucky’s obsession with a new toy he’d purchased to fill his lonely nights (and other areas).But when Steve buys a new TV, suddenly these two seemingly separate parts of Bucky’s life crash together in a spectacular and obsessive way.Bucky soon finds himself not as in control as he thought - and that’s when things start to get interesting…

💙  Black and Blue by darter_blue/ @darter-blue​, the1918/ @the1918​ (Modern AU, Spies & Secret agents | 7K | Explicit): CIA Agent Bucky Barnes and Captain Steve Rogers, Army 207th, Military Intelligence, are two American spies working for two different intelligence agencies. They've developed somewhat of complicated relationship while chasing down the same leads.

Until One Day, We Won't Be by the1918/ @the1918​ (Evanstan RPF | 8K | Explicit): Six times Chris and Sebastian were alone. [+ one time they were not.]

💙  How to Bang Your Weapon (in This World and the Next) by Brokenwords, elkane/ @elkane​, Hark_bananas/ @harkbananas​, kocuria-visuals (kocuria)/ @kocuria​, Nospheratt/ @nospheratt​, profoundalpacakitten/ @profoundalpacakitten​, ScrambledScript, sublimepigeon/ @sublimepigeon, ursa (Canon Divergent, WS!Steve, WS\Bucky, Multiverse | 50K | Explicit): Hydra knows how to get the Asset to do their bidding. When they want a new Captain, a new Steven Grant Rogers from another universe to help grow Hydra’s collection of supersoldiers, of course they send the Asset. But little do they know that in any universe, a Bucky will always find a Steve, and a Steve will always protect a Bucky.

💙  What lies they told us by darter_blue/ @darter-blue​ (Mobster AU | 42K | Explicit): Steve Rogers might still see his ma every Sunday, but he isn’t the dutiful son. He gave up that life a long time ago. Bucky Barnes may be following in his fathers footsteps, but he wants to set a path to something more than where they’ll take him. Steve and Bucky’s lives have always intersected. There is something between them that exists, real and palpable. But they are opposite sides of a coin. Opposing families in a war for money and power. Blood and pain. And fate may bring them together, again and again, pulling them closer. But it always finds a way to rip them apart. What they need is a way to fight fate. To fight their families. To reach each other. To keep each other. 

the prosecution rests by dirtybinary/ @dirtybinary (Post-WS | 3K | Teen): The Asset has to admit, ending a mission with Captain America crying into his lap is pretty unexpected. Even for him, and he is trained to anticipate all contingencies.

💙  The Seed and the Root by the1918/ @the1918​ (Shrunkyclunks, Post-EG | 32K | Explicit): His hands and mouth are gentle on the outside, but on the inside, Steve is burning up. He’s got everything he’s ever wanted on the bed and land beneath him, and now it’s so much at once that he’s afraid he’ll combust into white, nuclear light. (Part 3 of 💙  Song of the Rolling Earth)

Burning For You by musette22/ @musette22​ (Evanstan RPF, Non-Famous Sebastian | 3K | Teen): Sebastian gets a little carried away when raving about the Mountain Lodge candle to a friend. It leads to an unexpected, fragrant encounter.

At The Bottom Of Everything by Anonymous (Evanstan RPF | 12K | Teen): Six years. That’s what they’re celebrating. Six years, of them. Of this. That's what Chris is happy about. Until the phone rings. Until he turns on the news.

💙  Slip Of The Tongue by this_wayward_life (Shrunkyslunks, Soulmate AU | 6K | Explicit): Mr Perfect Ass is even prettier from the front. His braid is loose enough that strands of hair have fallen to frame his face, and an oversized scarf is pulled up to just below his pouty, red mouth. He's big, with wide shoulders and thick arms and thighs that are straining at his jeans, and he's staring at Steve with a blush on his face and the prettiest eyes Steve has ever seen."Oh, god," Steve blurts out. "Please sit on my face."

(series) Kinktober 2020 by this_wayward_life (31 works | 80K | Explicit)

The Best Handjob Of Bucky Barnes's Damn Life (Handjob)

Soft (Eating Out)

The Benefits of A Sugar Baby  (Thigh Riding)

Black and Blue (Choking/Spanking)

Black Mesh, Red Leather (Daddy Kink)

Thank God For Company-Sanctioned Teambuilding Workshops (Blindfolded)

The Only Thing School Football Is Good For  (Blowjob)

Your Body, On Crumpled Sheets (Voyeurism)

Feeling Just Peachy (Accidental Stimulation)

Blood-slick (Knife Kink)

Bury Me (Restraints)

Summer Nights (Fingering)

Beautiful Shackles (Public Sex)

You Are My First, And You'll Be My Last (Sixty-Nine)

Cover My Body (Size Difference)

All Plugged Up (Toys)

the tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks (Begging)

Sugar Cookies (In the kitchen)

Seeing Double (Threesome)

I'll crawl home to him (Edging)

Your Voice In My Ear (Phone sex)

Hold Me Close, Keep the Monsters at Bay (In the shower/tub)

Keep Me Warm (First Time)

He never asked me once about the wrong I did (BDSM/rough sex)

Unexpected (Caught masturbating)

Overcome (Overstimulation)

In the Crowd (Orgy)

Praise Your Baby (Praise kink)

Grab on my waist and put that body on me  (Dirty talk)

Rediscovery (Mutual Masturbation)

Think I Found Myself a Cheerleader (Dressed up)

WIP

💙  Underneath the Shattered Sky by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Planet Hulk AU, Post-Endgame | 14/? | 55K | Mature): “I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you.” Steve sounded choked. “I’m sorry. It was out of line.” “It’s really okay.” “No, it’s not. You’re not him. You’re your own person, with your own history, your own thoughts and feelings. Your own life here. I can’t expect you to be him. It’s not fair. To either of you.” “Maybe not,” Bucky huffed back. “But in this universe, my Steve’s an asshole who left me. And in your universe, your Bucky was taken from you, so I don’t really know what’s fair anymore.”

💙  and the river flows beneath your skin by Deisderium/ @deisderium​ (Boarding School AU, Soulmates | 3/? | 20K | Mature): In which Steve and Bucky are forced to room together their senior year at boarding school, and accidentally soul bond to each other even though they kind of hate each other. All they have to do to get out of it is not kiss each other for a year so the accidental bond will fade. How hard could it be?

💙  The Root and the Stalk by the1918/ @the1918​ (Shrunkyclunks, Post-EG | 3/6 | 18K | Explicit): “My mom, she’s not perfect, but she always had this one saying. You can’t look right into the sunset, because the light will burn your eyes. So you have to face east, right?” Bucky tucks his forehead against Steve’s chest, staring down the gap between them, eyes on their feet. “And when you do, you can look at the ground, and you can see your own shadow.” Bucky raises his head after a contemplative silence and gazes up at Steve. Those stormy gray eyes are filled with luminance, iridescence, splintered rays of shining light. “Or—Mom would say—you can look in front of you.” His lashes kiss his cheeks in butterfly pulses every time he blinks. “And ‘God’s light at your back will show you everything.’” (Part 4 of 💙  Song of the Rolling Earth)

💙  Revenance by by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel​, SinpaiCasanova (Bladerunnerblue) (The Old Guard AU/The Song of Achilles AU | 20/? | 62K | Mature | Warning: Violence, MCD): And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone. Or, the one where Steve and Bucky are immortal and used to be known as Achilles and Patroclus.

💙  my soul and my youth (it’s all for you to use) by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid​ (Post-Endgame (non-compliant) | 1/2 | 7K | Explicit): He waits until Bucky’s got a happy mouthful of eggs and toast. “I want to fuck you when you’re asleep.” Steve smiles his sweetest smile, and Bucky’s eyes narrow further, until they’re luminous blue slits. He swallows. Steve helplessly tracks the bob of his throat and drags his eyes back up to Bucky’s. “Steven Grant,” Bucky says, tone somewhere between amusement and admonishment. “Way to spring that on a guy.”

Re-read

I [Heart] You by writeonclara (Canon, magic curse | 1K | General): “Steve’s been hit with a curse,” Natasha said. She said it calmly, so Bucky didn’t immediately go flying out of the apartment to tear apart the Tower in search of Steve. Then again, Natasha would probably be calm if New York City spontaneously burst into flames. He lowered the coffee pot and squinted at her. “Of course he has,” he said. He felt, abruptly, exhausted. “What is it?” “The witch kept ranting about sexual repression and archaic moral principles,” she continued blithely.

[whattimeisitintokyo]

Snip Snip

This is a one shot/sequel to @pengychan​ ‘s Mind the Gap that I had brewing in my head for sometime. 100% Pengy approved, I hope you enjoy some silliness.

WARNING: Has some language, sexual descriptions and deals with a M/M/F relationship. Also you should really read Pengy’s fic before you read mine.

----

-----

“Señor De la Cruz? The doctor will see you in about five minutes.”

“Never mind. I’m leaving.”

“No—nngh! No! Sit-… down!”

With a none to gentle shove and with great effort Héctor managed to pull Ernesto back down into the waiting room seat. The crashing of a heavy body and screeching of the plastic chair led to a disgruntled brow raise from the receptionist, but she just sighed and returned to her computer work. Ernesto grumbled to himself and crossed his arms with a glare.

“This was your idea, amigo.” Héctor whispered, not wanting to agitate the lady behind the counter even more.

“Exactly, which is why I should be allowed to change my mind.” Ernesto said, pouting as he looked down at his groin. “You don’t understand. I’ve spent my- no wait, every man has spent their whole lives protecting their manhood with gentle care and affection. It is a sense of pride, of thing of power. Potency! It’s what makes a man a man. To get a vasectomy goes against everything I believe in. It’s not in my nature.”

“Aw, Ernesto…” Héctor gripped Ernesto’s arm and squeezed comfortingly. “We’ve talked about this. You’ll still be a man. Imelda and I won’t think any less of you. In fact we’re both extremely proud of you for doing this.”

“Oh shut up.”

“How about this. Once you have the operation, get all healed up and are ready for some action, then…” Pausing to check to see if the receptionist was watching them. “Then you get to go to town on Imelda. No more condoms, just skin to skin. You thrusting deep inside of her while she screams your name, coming together in one rush of pure ecstasy.”

If it weren’t for his nerves and the flight-or-fight struggle going on inside of him now Ernesto would have been fully erect by Héctor’s words alone. Not an ideal situation to be in when one was in a urologist’s office and about to be fully nude from the waist down. Still his cheeks gave a slight flush and he swallowed thickly. “And, uh… what will you be doing while I’m with her?”

“Me?” Héctor chuckled huskily. “Why I’ll be right behind you. Just how you like it.”

Ernesto gasped softly. An Ernesto sandwich, his favorite. A sandwich was something Imelda had come up with that always depended on who was in the middle of their combined lovemaking, a silly little thing hardly compared to how fucking awesome it really was. Penetration and getting penetrated, two forms of stimulation all at once that left one howling in pleasure to the heavens and beyond. Ernesto’s face went full red at that and could already feel the tingle of arousal pooling in his stomach and creeping down into his groin. This was bad. He couldn’t get hard now. He had to think of something to cool down. Something to stop the progression of his-

“Alright, Señor. The doctor will see you now.”

‘That’ll do it.’ Ernesto thought as all thoughts of sex had switched back to nauseating terror.

“Ay, puta madre.” Ernesto whispered and stood up with Héctor. He started to actually tremble when they went through the door, Héctor’s hand on his shoulder failing to stop it. “Shit, shit, shit…”

“Uy, you’re so tense.” Héctor said, now a little worried. “You took your Valium pill almost an hour ago. It didn’t calm you down even a little bit?”

“Do I look calm?!” Ernesto whispered harshly.

No, Héctor had to admit. In the last half hour in the waiting room Ernesto had done anything but relax. He had stood up and sat down multiple times, paced the room, gotten a cup of stale coffee, and had picked up every single magazine that they had, read exactly one page of each, and had thrown it back down onto the table. Héctor believed that if he hadn’t had any Valium in his system right now then there would have been an Ernesto shaped hole busted through the wall of the receptionist office.

“Well they’re gonna give you something stronger once we’re in the room.”

“It won’t work. I know it won’t work.”

“How?”

“Héctor you know me.” Ernesto said, the trembling now reaching his voice. “I have a very strong constitution. Alcohol barely phases me, I need an extraordinary amount of caffeine to really wake up. That valium might as well have been an aspirin. I’m telling you there is nothing in the world that’ll calm me down at this point!”

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

Apparently that nothing had been a Demerol shot to the ass by an elderly nurse.

Héctor cursed the person who had made up the stupid rule that no cell phones or cameras were to be allowed in the doctor’s office. For this was a golden moment that would soon exist only in his memories. And maybe even only his memories because Ernesto himself was just a touch out of it. There he was, laying on the reclined operating chair in a hospital gown with his bare waist covered by a thin paper sheet. Singing baby songs.

“Quince elefantes se balanceaban sobre la tela de una araaaañaaa…” Ernesto sang drowsily while he languidly twirled his finger in the air like a conductor’s baton.

He had slowly but surely diminished over the past half hour, starting with the sluggish shaking of his head as the drugs started to paint his brain with a slight fog. Then came the slow blinking and the monotone, droning humming. Then finally to this: awake sedation as the doctors called it. To Héctor though it was pure hilarity.

Suddenly Ernesto stopped singing and his brow furrowed in thought. “You know they say that a strand of a spider’s web can be tougher than steel.”

Héctor nodded. “I’m sure I’ve heard that somewhere.”

“I don’t think a spider web can hold fifteen elephants, though.”

“No.”

“Then why would they make a song about something that is physically impossible?”

Héctor laughed. “It’s just a song to teach babies how to count, Ernesto.”

“Well it’s doing a very poor job about teaching them physics.” Ernesto huffed. “When we make it big we should do some kiddy songs, sí? Public domain stuff. That’s free money right there. Quince elefantes se balanceaban-.”

“Ernesto.” Héctor clapped a hand across Ernesto’s mouth, stifling a grin when it seemed to take a few seconds before the drugged man realized his song had been silenced. When Ernesto glared up at him he continued. “You’ve said quince elefantes five times now. You aren’t adding anymore elephants.”

This seemed to be news to Ernesto, and when Héctor removed his hand he actually looked downright embarrassed and ashamed. “Oh… I’m sorry.”

Yes, drugged Ernesto was hilarious alright. Also endearing and adorable.

“It’s okay, I forgive you.” Héctor said with a smile, and then bent over to give him a kiss on the forehead.

Ernesto hummed in contentment, a faint red on his cheeks as he suddenly looked bashful. “Someone could have come in when you did that, you know.”

“But they didn’t.”

“The room could have a security camera.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Oh, okay… Then…” Ernesto pouted and pointed to his forehead on the same spot. “Uno mas.”

Héctor happily obliged, and no sooner had he leant back from the kiss when the door opened. It was enough to make Héctor’s heart seize a little bit before forcing himself to relax. He hadn’t seen, it was alright. Ernesto just smiled wobbly and waved at the doctor coming in.

“Well, Señor de la Cruz!” the doctor said cheerfully as he set down his clipboard and began to slip on his gloves. “It’s been a little while now. How are we feeling after the Demerol shot?”

“Philosophical.” Ernesto proclaimed grandly, nearly smacking Héctor in the face as he threw out his hand in a dramatic pose. “Young Héctor and I have been discussing the fallacies of nursery rhymes and how they are negatively impacting a child’s learning structure.”

The doctor blinked at that, before giving Ernesto an indulgent smile. “Ohh, so I see. Yep, the medicine is in full effect.” Looking over at Héctor his smile seemed to falter a bit. “You know I usually see wives, girlfriends and even mothers come in to offer support, but rarely male friends.”

Héctor chuckled. “Well I think if his mamá realized that he would be cutting off any chance of her having grandchildren she would explode into a flood of tears. And besides, my wife and I would like to have more kids in the future, but I also might one day want to have a vasectomy. What better time to weigh my options than with my best friend, you know? See what it all entails.”

“I understand.” With a snap of his glove and turning on the overhead light to illuminate Ernesto’s crotch, he moved his tray of surgical equipment towards him. “All right then. Shall we begin?”

With a slight whimper Ernesto held out his hand for Héctor to hold. “You won’t let go at all, right?”

Seeing Ernesto so vulnerable and adorable melted Héctor’s heart, and he wished that Imelda had been there with him to witness Ernesto being so cute. He clutched Ernesto’s hand and gave it a firm squeeze. “I won’t. Don’t worry amigo, this is a perfectly normal procedure. Nothing to worry about at all.”

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

With Coco laid down for her afternoon nap, all the dogs and Pepita fed and watered, and no shoe orders to work on at the moment Imelda was enjoying some private time to herself curled onto the sofa, watching TV and drinking a nice cup of coffee. She knew this momentary bit of peace wouldn’t last.

Soon Héctor and Ernesto would be back from the doctor’s office and Imelda would be ready for them. She already had stocked up on acetaminophen and had several cold packs in the freezer for when they would be needed. She had even stocked up on Ernesto’s favorite soda, or at least one he tolerated when he wasn’t able to drink beer or other liquors.

She was very proud of Ernesto for bringing up the idea of getting a vasectomy for himself, and even prouder when he had set up the appointment all by himself and left for it this morning with Héctor. She knew he was nervous, heck she was nervous about it too, but she also knew that Ernesto was a man who once he set his mind on something there was no turning back. It was one of the things that she loved about him, even though it sometimes aggravated her.

Loved.

It was so weird thinking that now, even though she knew it was true. Although she was still deeply in love with Héctor and he was in love with her, the end of their sexual arrangement with Ernesto did not make their feelings for him disappear like she thought it would. In fact it only strengthened them. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say.

And in the end the only thing it succeeded in doing was completely breaking Ernesto’s heart and left him wanting for almost a year. She was ashamed of herself but there was no way she could have foreseen what would come of the night she had slapped that strap-on in front of Ernesto. She had no idea that she would have two men holding a third of her heart while she held a third of theirs.

But it was fine now. For how long she didn’t know. But they would just take it one day at a time.

When she heard the door knock she blew out a sigh and set her coffee mug down. Dante and Ernesto’s four little chihuahuas immediately ran to the door in their room where they were currently shut up in, but thankfully for once they didn’t yip or bark. Just whined pitifully and slightly scratched the door. But they would have to wait until she got Ernesto set up on the couch and was safely protected from them.

Opening the door, she greeted them with a smile. “Well, how did it… go?...”

Ernesto was standing there, straight and tall as ever, an annoyed pout on his face while with one arm wrapped around him was Héctor. Trembling slightly and his face the color of putty, Héctor pointed a shaking finger to Imelda. “We… are stocking up on condoms. Either that or we’ll have a dozen kids. But I am never… going to get one of those… things ever! Never ever!”

Imelda was shocked. “Dios mio! What on Earth happened? Ernesto, did you get the vasectomy or not?”

Handing Imelda a pamphlet with his free hand, Ernesto nodded. “Yeah, I got it. Surgery was short and went without a hitch. Here’s the aftercare treatment plan he gave me. No, the real problem was Princess Héctor right here. Fainted like a dainty maid after the doctor held up my sperm tube for us to see. I know it has another name, but I forget and don’t care.”

“Fainted!” Imelda gasped. “Are you all right? Did you hit your head?”

“No, but he did throw up.” Ernesto smirked.

“Don’t remind me.” Héctor groaned, holding his stomach and struggling to support himself. “I’ve been nauseous the whole ride back. I need to see something cute. Something pure. I need to see my Coco. Coco, my love, Papá is coming!”

“Do not wake her up Héctor, I just put her down twenty minutes ago!” Imelda called out to Héctor’s retreating form. “And don’t let the dogs out of the other room either!”

“Ay, ay ay ay…”

At the sound of pain, Imelda’s attention turned to Ernesto. He was hunched slightly against the doorframe, his eyes closed tight and face pinched. “Oh, I’m so sorry Ernesto. Héctor distracted me. Are you in a lot of pain?”

“Just tender more than painful.” Ernesto grunted out. “Though it might hurt more after the anesthetic wears off. No, what really hurts is my hand. Héctor crushed the hell out of it during the whole surgery! I regret ever asking him to hold it in the first place! It’s not like my whole livelihood rests in the full use of my hands…”

“You’d still have your voice.” Imelda smiled. “And your so-called good looks.”

“Whatever… can you help me to the couch? I- nng!-… think I reached my limit helping Héctor.”

Ah, so he was in pain. Taking hold of Ernesto’s large arm she helped him slowly shuffle his way around the couch. “He was supposed to be helping you.” She chastised.

“Well he was pretty much useless afterwards.”

“You could have hurt yourself. You shouldn’t be lifting heavy objects.”

Ernesto smiled. “Well look on the bright side. If one of my cajones swells up like a grapefruit then he can pay for my medical bills.”

“Mmm hmm.” Imelda couldn’t help by snicker a little at that. “Okay, let’s sit you down. Okay, easy. Easy…”

Slowly Ernesto sat down on the couch, letting Imelda support him as he slowly eased his way down. With a pained grunt and then a sigh of relief he let his head fall back against the headrest and let his knees spread enough to the point where there was no pain, the sweatpants he was wearing lifting away from the sensitive area. He closed his eyes for a few moments, listening to Imelda bustling through the kitchen quietly, before a soft ahem made him open them again.

Imelda handed him a glass of water and two white pills, then placed a frozen ice pack next to him on the couch. Taking the pills without complaint and downing half the glass of water, he then took the ice pack and ever so gently molded it against his sore nether regions. Gasping softly at the cold at first he then sighed in relief as the coolness soothed the aches and pains, smiling gratefully up at Imelda. “Gracias.”

“De nada.” Imelda said before sitting down next to him, careful not to jostle him too much. “So, the vasectomy was a success?”

Ernesto nodded. “Yep, my cannon is now just a water gun: I may be shooting blanks, but I can still squirt you in the eye.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Oh am I?”

“Hmm…” Imelda leant against her arm that was resting on the back of the couch, relieved that the pain seemed to be slowly fading from Ernesto’s features. She smiled a little, watching him until he looked over her way with a question on his face. “I’m proud of you, you know.”

Shifting a little uncomfortably, he gave her a smug look that used to infuriate her but now knew was just a mask to cover up his own insecurities. “You’re going to have to be more specific. I have done many things in my life you should be proud of.”

“Oh, of course.” Imelda tittered, then rested a hand on his arm. “No I’m proud that you did this. It would have been… hard to explain to others if I gave birth to a child that looked like you… I know you don’t necessarily like children and wouldn’t want one to begin with, but it was still a big decision to make. It couldn’t have been easy-”

“I’m willing to do whatever it takes to stay with you two… Whatever it takes…”

This startled Imelda. Ernesto’s face had darkened considerably when he had said that, but his eyes displayed the same misery she had seen during the year where Ernesto had been separated from them. Because of her. She had been acting on her motherly instincts when she had found out that she was pregnant with Coco, surely a threesome between her parents and her godfather would end badly for her once it would be discovered. And it had only been about sex at the beginning and one-upping each other in terms of sexual prowess when it came to Héctor.

But love had grown first in Ernesto. And then in her and Héctor. All the separation had done was make them all miserable. It was no one else’s concern what they did behind closed doors, and they would raise Coco and their potential children to have open minds and kind hearts.

Ernesto’s eyes cleared and his face reddened in embarrassment as he quickly tried to back pedal. “Oh, uh… Forget I said that. I guess I’m still a little high from the drugs the nurse gave me. They always make me a bit chatty.”

Leaning forward, she wove her fingers into Ernesto’s wavy hair and smiled. “Well I wouldn’t worry. Like it or not you’re stuck with us for life.” And then she gave him a kiss on the forehead, not knowing it was in the exact same spot that Héctor had given him hours earlier. Ernesto touched where she had kissed him, face even redder, and smiled back.

Standing up from the couch, Imelda handed him the TV remote and brushed herself down in a way to calm her own nerves. “Well all right then. Don’t leave that ice pack on for too long. Just do it twenty minutes every hour. Would you like a soda?”

“I’d prefer a beer.”

“Not with medicine still in your system.”

“I also want to see my dogs.”

“I’m sorry, do you want four bony and dense cannonballs jumping directly onto your crotch?”

“…No…”

“Didn’t think so. I’ll get you some soda and chips before I have to rescue Coco from her father. Just holler if you need anything else.”

Watching her walk into the kitchen Ernesto settled further into the couch with a grin. The ache in his groin was lessening, he was now and forever barren, Imelda was pampering him, and he’d seen Héctor make a total fool out of himself today.

“This is nice.” Ernesto said to himself as he turned on the TV. “I should have gotten a vasectomy years ago!”

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

“And this is from his concert last month in Guadalajara! Signed photographs! Isn’t he handsome? My precious boy! He told me that they were charging 1000 pesos for one foto and they were selling like crazy! But he sent me a stack so that I could share them with my friends. And so I was wondering if you would like one too, Maricarmen?”

Maricarmen stopped stacking a pyramid of oranges long enough to glance at the photograph in Señora Adela de la Cruz’s hands. Ernesto was handsome all right: Dressed in a fine royal blue mariachi suit with a wide brimmed sombrero, grinning with pure machismo and his name signed in gold ink. But the sight of him didn’t melt her insides like it would other girls who glanced at his rugged features. It never did, really. Now just looking at him made her… anxious.

“I think I’ll pass Adela, but gracias anyway.”

Adela’s smile faded and she had that pitying, patronizing look that so many other people gave her that made her so mad but unable to defend herself against. “Are you still upset because Ernesto left all those years ago?”

“…I’m not… upset, but-.”

“Because it was my fault really! Ernesto left because of what I and his father did to him, we betrayed his trust and hurt him deeply. But finally we’ve patched things up and everything is right as rain again. He even visits us again, my precious boy! I know that you and he were good friends-”

Friends…

“-but every time he visits you never come over. Are you upset with him? Are you upset that he’s…” Adela paused, looked around to see if anyone else was listening in on their conversation, and whispered none too quietly, “…gay?”

Shocked into a sputtering snort Maricarmen managed to knock down her carefully made orange pyramid all over her fruit stall and onto the ground. Rolling her eyes she bent down to pick up the fallen fruit, shaking her head. “No, I’m not upset about that.” She said, not at all wanting to explain to the older woman what bisexuality was.

“I know you had some feelings for him.”

“… No offense, Dona, but the only feelings I had for him were tolerance but mostly annoyance.”

“Then what is it?”

“Mamá!”

The uncomfortable conversation was finally over with when all of a sudden a piercing cry and quick steps caused both woman to turn at the sudden intruder. A cute little girl, no more than eleven years old, came running up to them with her pink backpack slung over one elbow and her other hand reaching out for Maricarmen. She practically collided with Maricarmen with enough force to garner an oof! from the thin woman and gave her a big hug. “I’m done with school Mamá! May I have some money?”

“And a cheery good afternoon to you too, Maricruz.” Maricarmen said drily.

Maricruz laughed sheepishly and let go, putting her backpack underneath the fruit stand for safekeeping. “Lo siento, Mamá. It’s just that Dolores and Primavera are going to the movies and they invited me. So can I have some money, por favooooor?!”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, mija, but you know things have been tight recently. I’m going to have to start doing some night shifts at the cantina so we can stay afloat and have enough spending money.”

Maricarmen stayed strong when her daughter’s face instantly dropped. She knew that Maricruz was used to not having enough money for things she wanted, but being alone at night while her mother worked was something she hated most. Maricarmen knew that, but it wasn’t like she had anybody else to help her with raising her daughter. Her parents had both died years ago, and she had no other relatives willing to help the poor little slut who had a bastard child.

Maybe I could ask… her father for help?

No. Out of the question. What a fine time to tell him he had a daughter after all these years. And after he had just made it big.

“Oh, okay…” Maricruz said dejectedly, before turning a wide winning smile to Adela. “Señora de la Cruz! How nice to see you. Could you spare a few pesos so I could go see a movie, por favor?”

“Maricruz!” her mother instantly scolded. “You do not just ask someone else for money immediately after I said-”

“Of course I can, niña!”

“ADELA!” Maricarmen cried. “I’m trying to show her she can’t always get what she wants!”

Adela waved her off as she reached for her wallet. “Oh, it’s just a little money and our movie theater isn’t expensive. Going to one movie isn’t going to spoil the girl, especially one as sweet as she is. Here you go, chiquita, here’s enough money for the movie and a few snacks as well.”

“Gracias Señora de la Cruz!” Maricruz said as she pocketed the money and gave the elderly woman a big hug. “You are the nicest woman in all of Santa Cecilia!”

“Oh ho ho, you charmer you.” Adela chortled and then handed her one of her signed photographs. “Here you go also. A signed photograph of my son Ernesto, soon to be the greatest singer in all of Mexico! I’m giving it to everyone for free.”

“Oh cool, gracias!” Maricruz said as she took it, clearly not as excited as she was when she got the money. “I think I’ll give this to my friend Paloma if you don’t mind. She’s a de la Cruzito for life, at least that’s what she told me.”

“Oh, and you’re not?” Adela asked confused.

Maricarmen shook her head and smirked. “No, she likes Héctor, don’t you mija?”

Maricruz sighed dramatically and clutched the photo to her chest. “Ahhh, he’s soooo dreamy!...”

“Really now!” Adela laughed in surprise. “I must admit I’m a little shocked. Don’t get me wrong Héctor is a fine boy and everything, but I guess I’m just used to everyone fawning over my Tito.”

Photograph still in hand, Maricruz just shrugged and smiled widely, her light brown eyes almost giving off a golden hue. “Sorry Señora. But Ernesto de la Cruz just isn’t my type!”

THE END

[clonewarslover55]

Could I request some darth maul fluff/smut? Where his fem s/o is feeling playful and wants to play hide and seek/chase instead of training. Maul obliges because he finds the predator/prey aspect a turn on. And when he finds her it turns into romantic smut?

Absolutely!! I’ve never written for Maul before so hopefully I got his character right. 

Cat and Mouse  

Darth Maul X ForceSensitive!Fem!Reader  //NSFW//  //SMUT//

Notes: This is before Maul got cut in half. So no robodick, sorry. Just some good ol’ regular Zabrak dick. This is also sort of a master and apprentice relationship, but there is no big age gap. I don’t do relationships where one character is far older than the other. Also in this Maul lives in some fancy palace type place, because he is a classy bitch. 

Warnings: Predator and prey chase, extreme teasing during the chase. Maul dirty talks constantly. !SMUT! Unprotected sex! Please be safe everyone! Maul is a teasing bitch. Darth Maul is kinky in my opinion, but his kinky side doesn’t really show in this. Language. Maul is secretly a sweetheart 

Maul slowly walked around the gardens, only clad in a pair of dark pants. “Darling…...Where are you? You have training.” Maul sighed when he heard no reply, he knew you were hiding somewhere. You and Maul had been together for a while, then he noticed that you were force sensitive. Once you two figured that out he began to train you. 

Dating the man that was training you in the ways of the force had its perks. You two would often play games. Well the games were mostly you trying to find new ways to rile up Maul. Today you wanted to see how he would handle hide and seek, also known as cat and mouse. 

Maul closed his eyes and hummed to himself, “Alright I will play your little game of cat and mouse. But I hope you know there will be punishment for this distraction.” You shivered at his smooth voice. “Promises promises my master.” He heard your voice come from behind him. 

Maul whipped around just in time to see you flee into his large palace. He growled and quickly ran after you, the adrenaline and excitement already pumping through his two hearts. He didn’t want to admit how much he was already enjoying this game, it was quite a turn on for him.

You hid in the library, the excitement of the chase making you jittery. You were enjoying this much more then you should be, the wetness that was ruining your underwear was a clear indication of that. You knew Maul was enjoying this as well, or else he would’ve found you by now. 

Maul slowly walked down the large hallways, his bare feet hardly making a sound on the stone floors. He was getting more and more impatient by the second. His cock was hard in his pants, and it was making itself quite known. Maul huffed to himself, he knew the moment he found you he would fuck you then and there. 

He entered the library, his steps soft and calculated. “My heart, I can smell your desire.” His voice was a gruff growl, and it nearly made you cum right there. You forgot that he has a very keen sense of smell, so he knows exactly where you are.  “You might as well just give up.” He purred out, causing you to smile mischievously. You swiftly removed everything but your bra and panties before stepping out into the open. 

You watched as he bared his teeth seeing you, he was definitely riled up. You giggled and threw a book at him before running out of the library quickly. The book hit him in the face, letting you get a headstart. Maul growled and ran after you, no longer holding back. You ran up a flight of stairs quickly, and he followed right behind you. 

You ended up doing something very stupid. You looked over your shoulder. You screamed out, not in fear, when you saw how close Maul was to catching you. He smirked when you screamed, “You better save your voice.” More wetness flooded your core at his words. 

Maul nearly grabbed you as you ran into his very large bedroom. You went to run into the freshers but Maul is a lot faster than you. You screamed as he tackled you onto the bed, landing directly on top of you. “Son of a bitch!” You yelled out laughing, happy that he won. 

He was panting, obviously just as worked up as you. You giggled and pecked his lips, “You are very lucky that I love you.” He growled and kissed your neck, his sharp canines grazing your pulse point. “Oh I know.” You ran your fingers along his horns, pulling them some. 

Maul looked you in the eyes and glared at you, “You still need to be punished.” You nipped his pierced ear, “Do I?” You purred out, causing him to groan. He smirked and sucked a dark love mark onto your neck, distracting you with his magical mouth. 

Maul left dark marks all over your neck and chest, claiming you once again. Your head was thrown back, giving him better access to your throat. You ran your hands along his smooth black and red skin, his strong muscles tensing under your fingers. 

You yelped when he quickly ripped off your panties and bra, “Those were a set!” He chuckled and shrugged, kissing your frown away. He cupped your breasts, rubbing his strong calloused hands over them. He played with your nipples, “I honestly don’t think you should ever wear clothes again. You’re far too beautiful.” Your skin grew even hotter at his praise. 

You were about to ask what your punishment was, but he flipped you over on your stomach before you could speak. “I know how much you love to look at me, my love.” You groaned, “That’s mean.” Maul chuckled and kissed your shoulders. 

He held you on your hands and knees, your face buried in the soft blankets on the bed. Maul took his time kissing along your spine, making sure to bite here and there. You yelped when he nipped your ass cheek, causing him to chuckle darkly. 

Maul sat back and looked at your dripping core, moaning at the sight of it. He swiftly removed his pants before pumping his hand along his shaft a few times. He gripped your left hip tightly, his nails digging into your skin. He then used his free hand to play with your sensitive clit some. 

“Tease.” You groaned, causing Maul to slap your ass. You yelped, but even more wetness rushed from your cunt. He ran two fingers against your lips, but he never put his fingers inside you. You whined, “Master.” He paused his movements, “Please.” Maul only hummed slightly in reply. 

He leaned over you, his warm skin pressing against your back, “Will you be a good girl for me?” You nodded, “Yes master! I will be, I promise!” Maul kissed your neck, “Good.” You gasped when you felt the thick head of his cock pressing against your cunt. 

Maul gripped your hips tightly as he slowly pushed into your soaking cunt. You gripped the sheets and cried out his name, you know how much Maul loved hearing his name during sex. Maul growled and started with a rough quick pace. 

His hips snapped against your ass quickly, causing you to cry out every time they collided. You pushed your ass back against him with every thrust, so he could go even deeper. You felt your orgasm approaching quickly already. 

Maul gripped your hair with one hand as he began to pick up the pace, his thrusts becoming messy and rough. You cried out his name and all the cuss words you knew as he used your body as a fuck toy. Your first orgasm hit you hard, causing you to see white. 

You gripped the sheets tighter as Maul kept going, his cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside of you. Your walls tightened around his cock like a vice, causing Maul to lose more of his composure. You knew he was close by the erotic noises he was making, he was getting pretty loud. 

When Maul came he came with a roar of your name. Your second orgasm hit you harder than the first, causing your cunt to milk his cock for all it had. Maul’s hot cum spilled deep inside of you, some even dripping out. He thrusted his hips a few more times before stopping. He panted, watching the cum drip down your thighs. 

Maul kissed your shoulder before pulling out, then flopping beside you. “Shit.” You mumbled as you rolled over onto your back. Maul propped himself up onto his elbow and kissed you sweetly, “Are you alright my heart? I wasn’t too rough was I?” You shook your head, “You could never hurt me Maul.” He smiled and kissed you again. 

Once you two caught your breaths he sat up, “Would you like to take a hot bath and relax with me?” You nodded and grinned. Maul helped you off the bed and led you into the freshers. 

[starkeristheendgame]

Peter tattooed Tony's name on his ass after a drunken night on his 18th birthday. And then Tony found out.

I had so many ideas for this and I fucking loved this prompt. Honestly Anon, thank you so much for the burst of inspiration! I absolutely love this concept and spent like two-hours just staring into space and internally fic-writing 😂

Its not exactly a ‘drunken night tattoo’ AU, but that’s because any respectable tattoo shop will not tattoo you if you’re drunk, or if you’ve consumed alcohol within the last 12 hours. So in respect of the professionals and in the interest of promoting safety, this is a slightly different base!

TW: Very light D/s Dynamic | Slight possessive behaviour | Under-negotiated (but consensual)

Peter couldn’t even blame being drunk. He wished he could; really. People did stupid things when drunk. It seemed to be an immediate write-off excuse for anything, instantly accepted as a valid reason for any stupid decisions.

Peter had been completely and utterly, stone-cold sober at every point in this process. He’d been sober when he’d scanned one of Tony’s signatures onto his phone. Sober when he’d booked the consultation with InkSpren Tattoo. Sober when he’d walked into the studio a week later in a pair of MJ’s velvet shorts.

He wasn’t entirely nervous. Pain didn’t really scare him as much as he supposed it used to. Especially not pain from a set of tiny, teeny needles. He’d gone with MJ for her first tattoo, and she’d taken it pretty well. Well enough that somewhere around the first hour, she’d begun to snore.

His tattoo artist was named Dave. That was comforting. Dave sounded like a nice name. Normal. Friendly. Guy-Next-Door-Dave.

Peter faltered in the doorway.

Dave was a 6″1 male with a beard and more tattoos than Peter thought possible to fit on one man. He was in the process of sapping on a pair of gloves, and eyed Peter critically when he noticed him lingering in the doorway, before motioning for Peter to join him.

“Lay down on your front. Arch your spine a little. You’re gonna have to pull those down under the cheek,” he instructed, reaching into a small tub to pull out some sanitary wipes. Peter tried not to feel embarrassed as he did as told, crawling up onto the bed and settling comfortably, before he squirmed, tugging down his shorts and his boxers both.

The wipe was cold and Peter huffed out a breath in surprise, nose scrunching as he forced himself to relax again. It was fine. It was a wipe. “I’m going to apply the stencil now. You wanted it dead-centre on the right cheek, yeah, mate?” Dave asked after a pause, and Peter nodded.

It would be more accurate to say that MJ wanted it there. Or at the least… That was the spot she’d chosen, when he’d lost the bet. Or… The pseudo bet. It was better to say that MJ had simply said she didn’t believe Peter would ever do something like this, and.

Here he was.

The stencil felt a little like rice paper. A little wet, and having some strange, scary dude palming his asscheek was definitely an experience, but Peter lay quietly through it, glancing nervously at his phone. 

God. He hoped Mr. Stark was too busy to call him today. Or worse, face-time him. Was Mr. Stark watching him through the camera? Had he hacked the microphone?

“Alright. Get up and have a look. We can wipe it off and re-place if its not right,” Dave instructed, and Peter moved gingerly, keeping hold of the waistband as he shuffled awkwardly over to the mirror and twisted.

There, emblazoned in dark purple on his asscheek, was Tony Stark. In a perfect replica of Tony’s elegant, eccentric scrawl. “He’s gonna kill me,” Peter breathed, staring at the stencil with growing horror. He caught Dave’s quizzical, raised eyebrow, and forced a grin. “Yeah, yeah. Its perfect. Right in the middle there. Great. Thanks.”

He lay back down, and after a brief warning, Dave begun.

“You lost a bet or something, kid? Or are you just…Really into the whole Iron Daddy thing?”

Peter wheezed.

Iron Daddy?!

“Lost a bet,” he managed to hiss out, burying his face into his arms. Oh, god. Thank whatever Deity was lurking up there that MJ wasn’t here to witness that. She’d immediately demand that the stencil was changed. Dave gave an affirmative sound from behind him.

“Why this guy? You a big fan or something? Or is it the opposite?”

“Uh… I guess a fan? I Intern. At SI,” Peter replied, wincing at a particularly harsh nip from the needles. It wasn’t so bad, all things considered. It stung, but it wasn’t the raging fire of pain that some people mentioned when they spoke about getting tattooed.

“Mmph. Must come with a nice paycheque. You gonna show him?”

“Absolutely not” Peter responded instantly, to Dave’s amused chuckle. Christ. Mr. Stark would fire him on the spot. He’d take back the suit. He’d get a restraining order. What mentor wanted their name on their eighteen year old mentee’s asscheek?

Then again.

Tony was egotistical enough that he’d probably love it, and think it was the most hilarious thing in the world, and Peter really wasn’t sure which one was worse. Not to mention that both involved him dropping his pants in front of his boss.

It was quiet for a little while after that, just the buzz of the needle and the odd puff of breath at the occasional sting from the gun.

“You know anything about knitting?” Dave asked after a pause, and Peter frowned, considering. He knew a little about sewing. He’d made his own suit, before Mr. Stark had showed up. Aunt May had taught him back when he’d thrown a tantrum over ripping his favourite shirt as an eight year old.

“Uh… Not really? I mean, I can sew a little. But I’ve never knit anything,” he remarked back, pondering it. Knitting was soft sweaters and thick scarves. It made him think of little old Russian ladies on their porches.

“My Ma wants to knit. Says she’s at that age. Told me to get her some wool and those special needles. I dunno the first thing about knitting.”

And that was how Peter learned that Dave’s Ma was what Peter imagined Ms. Romanoff would be when she was eighty, and that Dave’s main job was actually as a Doggy Daycare assistant at Paws ‘R Us.

“All done,” Dave announced, squirting a weird, green froth over Peter’s asscheek before wiping it lightly with a series of cloths. “Go take a look.” 

Peter obliging, sliding off the bench and twisting to see his butt in the mirror.

“Aw, man. This is gonna be on my mind literally every time I see him,” Peter complained, clapping a hand over his face. There, in what looked like thick Sharpie across his ass, was Tony’s signature. Forever. If he ever died, it would be with this stamped across his butt.

“He ain’t gonna know none, unless you drop your kick in front of him,” Dave shrugged, peeling off the gloves. Peter had to concede that he had a point. He had zero intentions of ever telling Mr. Stark what he’d done, and in the three years they’d known each other, Mr. Stark had never seen Peter in less than a shirt and bottoms.

MJ looked moderately impressed when she pulled the hem of his shorts down, peering at the taped-up tattoo with her phone flashlight. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” she shrugged, flopping back onto her bed and resuming the video she’d been watching on her phone.

Peter shuffled around to lay on his stomach on the bottom of the bed, slapping at her ankle. “Never tell a Peter Parker he can’t do something,” he announced, and MJ rolled her eyes.

“I never said you couldn’t do it. I said it was a stupid thing to do, and you argued it, and then decided it was your new personal challenge.”

Peter paused, then tipped his head. “Fair.”

Hiding it was both predictably and surprisingly easy. Peter spent the next few days sitting very gingerly and working himself up into a lather about meeting Mr. Stark on the weekend. Would Tony somehow know? What if MJ had emailed him to spill the secret?

What if Peter and his big mouth spilled it for him?

Except… It went fine. Tony picked him up in a sleek, red sportscar and they went straight to the Tower. Peter was taking a gap year in order to process what he wanted to do with his future. 

Spiderman suddenly changing locations would be suspicious, and sooner or later, someone would think to check on new students at local facilities. People moving for jobs, that sort of thing.

Mj was just… Refusing to comply with the Government agenda or something like that. Honestly, Peter was thankful. With Ned moving to San Francisco for college, things could get a little lonely.

Bar the odd self-conscious squirm, it went as any other meet-up went. They stuffed themselves silly with food in the penthouse and messed around with tech and prank-called Steve and by the end of the night, Peter had almost forgotten about his tattoo.

The twitchy, nervous fear that Tony would somehow turn around and demand to know why he had his name tattooed on his ass eventually faded, and life resumed as it had before he’d gotten the ink.

Which, of course, is exactly when things had to go wrong.

Really, Peter should have expected it. His luck ran in a pattern, and he should have walked on egg-shells the moment he realised things were relaxed and easy and his tattoo was still a secret.

It had been about a month since the tattoo. When he was alone, Peter couldn’t help but stare at it, running his finger over the shiny, black skin. Tony’s name, emblazoned like a brand across his ass. 

It became the focal point of more fantasies than his ass could keep up with, lazing floppy and exhausted and lube-covered on his bed, his mind reeling.

He imagined Tony tracing the letters with his tongue. Imagined Tony pinning him down and tattooing it himself. Imagined a different world where the branding was deliberate. A mark of ownership. Or a surprise. The look on Tony’s face when Peter would bend over, revealing his name.

And, as predicted, hiding it was no trouble at all. Peter had his own room in Tony’s penthouse, so if he needed to shower or sleep there, he had complete privacy. It helped that the Iron Spider and that Tony’s Mark II for the fabric Spiderman suit fit over his regular clothing now, so he didn’t even have to strip to do his thing.

The one thing he didn’t factor in, was a disastrous inventory day combined with the decision to wear white boxers. There’d been a raid on a medical facility kidnapping people to experiment on and most of the equipment and tech had been turned over to Tony for examination, classification and destruction. Peter was there to help, sleepy-eyed and not quite as focused as he ought to be.

He didn’t check the lid on the canister was tight before picking it up.

He didn’t see the drop of oil on the floor where Dum-E had been trundling around, moving things.

He slipped with a whelp, still clutching the container as he slid and twisted, bumping canister first into the edge of the table. He was vaguely aware of Tony shouting as his vision filled with pink dust that stung his eyes and seemed to cling to his clothes.

“Peter! Jesus H - Get in the med-shower, now! I turned away for five seconds kiddo, how did you -” Tony’s frantic muttering stops and starts as he grabbed onto Peter’s arm, dragging him across the workshop to the tiny little emergency shower stall in the corner. 

Peter could do nothing but stagger along, blinking frantically to clear his eyes of dust and pink.

It doesn’t even fully register he’s inside the stall until the first blast of water rained down on him, cold like ice before immediately coming something akin to tepid. He spluttered, trying to flatten himself back against the wall as his hair fell down into his eyes and the water streamed down his mouth, his hair, his back.

He gasped as the water trickled down his thighs, soaking through the cotton of his sweatpants and making them heavy. His shirt clung to his torso like plastic wrap and stuck-peeled uncomfortably with each heaving, shuddering breath.

“Yeah, sorry. This thing acts for burns too, so. Gotta keep it cool,” Tony murmured from outside the stall, head tilting sympathetically even as Peter scowled at him from under the battering stream. “Take your clothes off,” Tony instructed, turning to look over his shoulder.

“What?” Peter squeaked, eyes widening as he wrapped his arms around himself protectively. Tony glanced back at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Relax, munchkin. My moves are smoother than that. It was a powder. Its likely it got inside your clothes, too,” he pointed out. Peter wanted to argue. Wanted to say if he just stood here long enough the risk was over, but.

“Turn around,” he huffed adamantly, scowling harder at Tony’s snort. But the genius complied, turning away and folding his arms as he observed the settling dust cloud. Peter counted to ten slowly, teeth chattering under the cold spray before he peeled off his shirt. 

The water on his skin was even more unbearable and he gave a whine of protest as he begun to work at the strings of his sweats, letting them fall with a disgusting, heavy slop.

“I was naked in front of you before,” Tony pointed out conversationally and Peter spat out water, shaking his head before pushing his hair from his eyes.

“That doesn’t count. The armour ripped your clothing off in beta deployment,” he pointed out, though he couldn’t help softening at the memory, snickering as he turned his back to Tony, scrubbing at his body. 

It had been hilarious. The actual deployment had gone fine, it was just when Tony had deactivated it that the armour had shrunk in on itself, taking his beaten old tank top and ratty workshop jeans with it.

“Both were an accident. Both involved one of us witnessing the other in a state of undress. Although my back has been dutifully turned since you commanded it, by the way. And both were equally hilarious in that my own armour undressed me, and you essentially became a - What is that?”

Peter jolted, having sunk into a daydream state of listening to Tony talk as he wiped himself down. He looked over his shoulder to find Tony staring straight at him, expression delighted and curious. Or, rather, straight at his ass.

Oh.

Oh no.

“Nothing!” he yelped, twisting to flatten his back against the wall. He’d left his boxers on for the sake of not trusting that Tony wouldn’t forget his vow of not looking, and had completely forgotten they were white. 

Which also meant that his dick was now flat out bared to his mentor. With a howl of frustration he twisted so he was side-on to Tony, curling up and glowering with all the muted rage he could muster.

“Its a logo. On my boxers,” he ground out.

“I think not,” Tony shot back gleefully, leaning on the protective railing with an absolutely manic glint to his eye. Peter almost groaned aloud, head falling back under the spray. It was too late. He was doomed. His heart begun to pound and the air he was sucking in felt like it wasn’t enough.

“You have a tattoo. On your ass. Right there,” Tony pointed out, as though Peter didn’t know it. Peter tried to glare but it came out feeble, weak. Fuck. He was screwed. So screwed! 

“What is it? Who’s name is it? Its clearly a name,” Tony continued, pestering for the information.

“Go away!” Peter barked lightly, shifting restlessly under the cool stream. Tony just shrugged easily at him and leaned through the gap, hitting the OFF button for the water. He seemed unfazed at Peter’s shuffling or his attempted aggression, smiling at him sweetly.

“You can tell me, or I can ask JARVIS. JARVIS is nice, he’ll tell me.”

And Peter’s blood runs cold, because there’s no doubt that JARVIS will. Peter never swore him to secrecy, and Mr. Stark’s name on his ass isn’t anything concerning to the AI.

“Its nothing! Oh my god, its just a tattoo!” he complained, making a shooing motion at his mentor as he side-stepped his sodden clothing. “Go get me a towel. And clean clothes. Please,” he huffed, fingers digging into his sides where he’d wrapped his arms around himself. Tony gave him a devilish grin, then gestured upwards.

“J?”

“It appears to be your name in your own handwriting, Sir,” JARVIS dutifully responded, his voice ringing like church bells through the room. The silence that followed was deafening and panic seeped like ice through Peter’s veins as Tony’s childish, gleeful look faded into complete, lax shock.

This is it. Everything he’s done, the last two years, the friendships and the Internship and Spiderman being Iron Man’s little tagalong… All gone. He’ll never eat day-old pizza with Clint again. He’ll never have Dum-E running over his foot again. The terror and panic bubbled up before he could stop it.

“Oh my god. Mr. Stark - You can’t - I’m so sorry. I swear, I wouldn’t have gotten it and especially not there but I just - I never thought you’d see it and -”

“Turn around,” Tony cut him off mildly, but his tone was firm. It was enough to snap Peter’s jaw shut as he stared, nails digging into his ribs as he blinked under the droplets that fell from his lashes. He sucked in a breath, staring in confusion.

“…What?” he breathed, pressing back against the shower wall as Tony advanced, unlocking the cubicle door to lean against the frame, eyeing him like a prime cut of steak.

“I said turn around,” Tony repeated patiently, raising one hand to make a little spinning gesture with his finger, as if Peter was a trick dog. Peter shook his head, horror quickly dawning as he realised not only what Tony was asking, but also the fact that if his boxers were that see-through…Facing the man directly was probably not the best idea.

He shuffled to the side as much as he could without baring either delicate matter. Tony’s lips quirked in amusement at this and he hummed softly as Peter shook his head. 

“Mr. Stark, its not - Its just your name, I swear. You sign it like every day, you don’t need to look,” he pleaded, shivering in the cool temperature of the workshop as the water begun to dry on his skin, running down in rivulets.

“I don’t sign it on your ass every day,” Tony pointed out, stepping closer. Peter wanted to stall, to argue that technically Tony hadn’t actually signed his ass, except his mentor was moving closer, reaching out slowly as though he might spook if he moved too fast. 

He was so close Peter could see the flakes of gold in his eyes, could smell the minty-motor-oil combination.

The first brush of Tony’s fingertips had his skin jumping like a colts, the touch so gentle it almost tickled. It was on the arch of his hips, skating the waistband of his sodden boxers before pressing just slightly to encourage him to turn. Tony’s gaze was tipped down, dark on his own.

“You can say no,” Tony reminded him softy, the hungry look in his eyes fading for a brief moment, replaced by something tender and careful. Peter sucked in a breath but didn’t resist as he was spun slowly on the spot, hands coming up to brace on the tiles. 

“How long?” Tony asked after a moment, thumbs pressing into the backs of his hips, breath hot across his shoulder.

“A month,” he managed to whisper, pressing his forehead to the wall as Tony’s thumbs slid along the waistband teasingly, catching and pulling but never dipping it more than an inch. 

Peter shuddered under the gentle touches, lips parting when Tony finally begun to slide the sodden material down his hips, over the large swell of his ass.

“You should have told me,” Tony rumbled, head ducking to mouth a lazy, open kiss to his bare shoulder, his stubble scratching just slightly. Peter shuddered as he felt the fabric slip to under his asscheeks, tight in the groove where it met his thigh but not overly uncomfortable. “Should have shown me sooner” Tony murmured into his skin.

And then the warmth of his breath was gone as he leaned back, and Peter could hear the gravelly, husked fuck that he uttered as he looked down, palm sliding around Peter’s flank so he could swipe his thumb across the dark sheen of the ink. 

Peter held his breath, tensing at the touch, though it didn’t hurt. Tony’s hand left his side to slide down between his shoulders soothingly.

“My name. On that perfect, juicy ass. Branded on there forever,” Tony was murmured, voice lethal and rasped as he stroked over it slowly, reverently. “Does that make you feel good, sweetheart? Knowing my claim is on you? In such an intimate place, too? Did you choose this?” Tony hummed, breath ghosting down Peter’s spine as he sank slowly to his knees.

Peter wasn’t about to let Tony know that actually, stamping it on his ass had been MJ’s idea. Especially not when Tony pressed a gentle, scratchy kiss over the tattoo. 

Especially not when he licked over the letters slowly, palms falling down to cup Peter’s asscheeks firmly. It was all he could do to whine, high and pathetic as he trembled under Tony’s hold.

Tony continued to mouth at the tattoo, lavishing it with nips and sloppy kisses as he kneaded at Peter’s asscheeks, almost distracting him enough to spread them with his thumbs, the kisses slowly travelling right until hot air right over there made Peter jolt, eyes snapping open.

“Mr. Star - Ahhhh-Ohhh,” his yelp faded into a gasp, which trickled into a breathless moan as Tony planted a firm kiss to the swirl of muscle between his thighs, sucking ever so slightly before promptly laving his tongue in a fat, wet stripe upwards.

“No idea what it does to me, kiddo. Seeing my name there. Marked on you forever. Marking you as mine,” Tony spoke against him, licking and kissing thoroughly between his words as Peter scrabbled at the tiles, desperately trying to keep himself from rocking back against Tony’s tongue.

One of Tony’s hands left his ass to stroke across his flank, delicate in its search before wrapping around his cock with a surprising firmness. Peter’s hips immediately jumping forwards into the grip and his moan was staggered as Tony paired it with a thrust of his tongue.

He mewled, embarrassingly high and and desperate as he threw one hand back, sliding his fingers gently into Tony’s hair. It was soft, far more silken than he had expected for something that stuck up in odd places when not professionally attacked by a stylist. 

Tony gave a soft sound of encouragement, nipping at him and sliding his hand up to stroke at the tip of his flushed cock.

“Mr. Stark, please,” he gasped, fingers twisting lightly in the soft, dark locks and hips stuttering minutely between Tony’s hot, wet tongue and his firm, slow grip. He wasn’t going to last; not with Tony Stark finally touching him. Not with the scrape of his stubble and the husk of his voice.

Tony chuckled against him, the vibrations making Peter shudder before he rose slowly, kissing a wet path from the small of Peter’s back to his shoulders, never stopping in stroking him slowly, firmly. 

“So eager, sweetheart. So precious,” Tony breathed against his skin, his hand leaving Peter’s hip to fumbled between them, knuckles brushing the round meat of his ass as he tugged his belt free of its buckle.

The slap of cold metal made Peter jolt, hips bucking in Tony’s grip and wrenching a whine from his throat as Tony squeezed him lightly, dipping his thumb into the tip and pushing at the bead of pre-cum that oozed there. 

“Steady, darling,” Tony huffed into his ear, the smirk audible in his voice. Peter opened his mouth to reply, but then there was the sudden feel of a thick, long cock resting in the line of his asscheeks, heavy and hot and he could do nothing but groan weakly.

“Hush, sweetheart. I’m not gonna take you apart yet. Not here. When I do that, you’ll be on my bed, spread out and sloppy for me,” Tony soothed, jerking him off in steady, tight strokes as he rocked his hips, dragging his cock between Peter’s asscheeks with a soft hiss of pleasure.

Tony flattened against his back, careless of the fact that Peter was still dripping water as he nuzzled into his neck, one hand roaming from Peter’s asscheek to his own cock and back, petting and stroking.

 Peter could feel the slow, hot build of an orgasm coiling in his gut, could feel his thighs shaking with the effort of keeping still as he let his head fall back onto Tony’s shoulder with a feeble  gasp.

Tony pressed open-mouthed kisses to his temple, training down to his neck where he nipped softly as he thrust against him, a seemingly never-ending, thick drag of heavy cock that Peter instantly wished was buried deep within him. 

Tony’s moans were deep, slow things, soft in his ear as he pushed his hips back, arching his spine to give Tony a better, tighter angle.

“Fuck, sweetheart. So good for me. That’s it,” Tony purred, one hand dropping to briefly pinch over his tattoo, speeding up his hand and his thrusts as they moved together. It was Tony’s cock catching on his rim that did it, pressing there briefly as though he was slide right in, paired with the ragged gasp the older man gave at the sensation.

Peter’s hips stuttered forwards and his high moan pitched into a yelp as Tony gave him a rough down-stroke, his cock jumping in his grip before painting the tiles in milky splashes. Peter shook in Tony’s hold, eyes squeezed shut and chest heaving as Tony worked him through it, continued to chase his own pleasure.

“My sweet boy. All branded as mine, coming on my cock and my touch. Look at you, baby. So good. So good, Peter. Fuck. Seeing my name, my writing on your ass… I’m gonna ruin you later,” Tony promised, voice ragged, hand falling from Peter’s cock to squeeze his ass, thumb sliding over the signature as he chased his own orgasm. Peter fell breathless against the cool tile, rocking back against the firm, heavy slide of Tony’s cock.

“Please, Tony. Fuck me. Mark me. Take me,” he rambled, breath hitching as Tony pulled back with a groan, nails digging into his ass. 

The older man looked down, managing to pull his hips back and angle his cock in just enough time to paint thick ropes of cum right over his tattoo, the thick, creamy liquid sliding over the ink wetly. Peter let out another mewl, his cock twitching feebly at the thought as Tony panted behind him.

There was a fumble, the rustle of fabric, and Peter opened his eyes, looking over his shoulder in time to see Tony snap a photo of it. His cheeks burned with arousal and humiliation, but Tony dived forwards, capturing his mouth in a firm, wet kiss. 

Peter was breathless by the time Tony pulled back, the corners of his mouth tingling with stubble burn.

“Marked as mine. Twice,” Tony murmured into his cheek, pressing another soft kiss there.

[madamechrissy]

Dirty Little Secret

ꕥ Pairings: Toji Fushiguro x Fem Reader

ꕥ Warnings-MDNI-explicit sexual content, dirty talk, Toji calls reader 'doll, ma, slut (Toji and Doll just work lol) Age gap- reader is 21, Toji is 39. - This chapter-rough sex, anal play, daddy kink, deep throating, masturbation, oral (both receiving)

ꕥ Word Count- 8.5k

ꕥ Summary- Toji Fushiguro is your dad Shiu's best friend for years. You've known him most your life. You come home for spring break to relax, and who pops up at the fucking doorstep? Toji. He's nasty, annoying, perverted and... Sexy. Hot. Built. And makes you think, maybe your first time shouldn't be with some college boy? But with this buff dude who can tie a cherry stem with his tongue and a scar on his damn lip.

Chapter 8 - Masterlist - Playlist

Chapter 9

You blink sleepily, opening your eyes to watch the sun filter through the blinds of the hotel room, and you feel a light caressing down your tummy. Your eyes shut again, as you feel strong arms around you, as you feel one of his heavy, muscled thighs shoved firm between your plush ones. He’s pressing up as he pushes on your hip, pressing that thigh up.

You whimper in pleasure, as you’re growing hot against him, and he moans softly, kissing your neck and pressing you tighter against him. Your hand reaches for his own, entwining your fingers and bringing it to your lips, kissing the scarred, rough hand, one you really didn’t know enough about. All you know is you love them, his big rough hands in yours.

Toji exhales softly, tickling your neck, then he’s got you flipped on top of him, and you look down at his handsome face, tracing a fingertip down his scar, as your hair falls like a curtain on the side of your face. Toji reaches up, grabbing your hips and pressing you down, and you cry out as you feel his length against you, pressing right between your lips.

“T-Toji…” You whisper, your voice still sleepy, crying out when he’s got your tits in his hands, over his soft white shirt you’d slept in.

“Beautiful, doll, waking up to this? M’fucking dreaming.” His husky morning voice breaks you completely, as does how his dark lashes lower over those mossy green eyes, and you kiss his forehead softly, then his cheeks, pecking kisses everywhere you could see.

“I thought last night was a dream.” You whisper, grinding on him then, making him tense, growing harder against you under his sweats. “But, you’re here.”

“I’m here, doll. Right… here…” He presses up again, dragging you against his length again then it’s too much, you’re yanking off his shirt, then sliding down, pulling down his slutty ass gray sweats, and he’s sucking in a breath, his ab muscles tensing as you go lower. “Doll…”

“Want you in my throat.” You whisper, looking at him then, his eyes narrowed, vermillion lips parted as you pull his thick cock out, stroking it from that base of curly dark hair up to his leaky red tip, lapping it up with your tongue.

“Fuck…” He hisses then, as you suckle right at that little line, where pre cum is pouring out, and he grips your hair in his big hands, snapping his hips up, shoving that cock all the way in your mouth. “You’re the death of me, too fuckin good at it.”

“Mmm…” Is all you can manage as you’re sucking him, stroking your hands in little twists up and down his length, he twitches in your mouth, and your eyes lock. He is pulling your hair so hard it’s pricking little tears in your eyes, and you’re drooling all over him as you watch him fall apart for you.

Toji, big strong Toji, is reduced to a mess as you work him, as you taste his sweat, and you like it, you love his salty precum, you’d suck it all day. Everything about him, as he’s now groaning so sexy, shoving your face down on his cock now, deeper, and you breathe through your nostrils, taking him as deep as you can. Your nose pressed against his pelvis before he yanks you off.

“Get up here, now.” He orders, and you giggle a bit, shaking your head and looking right at him, batting your lashes.

“No, daddy I’m having fun.” He narrows those eyes, jaw tensing, then on your lick up the veins of his thick cock he’s got you flipped under him, shoving two fingers in your eager, slick entry, making you scream out. “T-Toji!”

“Nuh uh.” He smacks your little cunt, and you hiss and the sting, blinking rapidly as you try to gain your senses.

“Daddy.”

“Mmhmm, what do you want, fuckin brat?” He smacks your cunt again, before sliding two fingers back in, and your wetness makes the lewdest noises as he scissors his thick digits inside you.

“Wanted to- ah- suck you off. Dick. Ow!” Now he’s smacked your cunt again, hard this time. “Daddy.”

“You’re such a fucking brat, swear ya don’t learn do ya?” You just smirk now, earning a playful glare.

“I’m a slow learner, daddy, I’m sorry.” You reach down to stroke his sensitive cock again, giggling like crazy when he’s got your wrist in a brutal grip.

“You’re psycho I swear.” He grumbles, then he’s lifted your leg, dragging you by your hips, lining his cock up, and you feel his tip pressing just into that tight ring of muscles, and fuck if you’re not close from just that. He exhales, cupping your face gently for a moment, studying you. “Tell me what you want, doll. Words.”

“Want you in me, daddy. Please. Ngh!” You scream out then, gasping as he slides his thick length to the fucking hilt, and he’s tense above you, face contorted in pleasure.

“Oh fuck .” He’s sliding out, his hips snapping up then as he shoves his entire length inside, making your body rock, pleasure coursing through your entire body.

You love it, you love this, love the way he’s holding your hips tight and bruising with one hand, as his other delicately holds your jaw. As he’s giving you long, hard strokes, but they’re slow , they’re intimate. You love feeling him, rolling up your hips and gasping, as his cock is sliding nearly all the way out before he thrusts back in, your cunt gripping him like a vise.

“Fuck me harder, Daddy, harder please...” You scream out, your walls tightening around him and he’s groaning like he’s in pain, those abs of his flexing, his chest flushing with his exertion, cheeks reddened as he huffs over you.

“You’re a little whore f’me, ya fuckin know that?” He says with a smirk, and you just nod, loving it when he calls you names. “ My whore, my slut, my little fuck doll.”

His possessiveness kills you, along with his nasty fucking words, and you’re even wetter around him, whining when he rolls those talented hips, his cock dragging against your walls. “Y-yes, Daddy, yours .” You repeat, and he’s sliding in and out of you, fucking you so good, so deep it’s unreal.

You’re shaking, as he grows sweaty working over you, now he leans back, spreading your thighs, and he’s got his thumb pressing right on your clit, pressing down as he’s fucking you, and you feel your climax close as he rubs it, he knows just where, just what pressure. Your eyes roll back as he’s got a leg up on his chest, kissing down your calf, down your ankle.

His tongue slips to your toes, making you squeal, and he grins. “You’re… s’nasty… Toji….”

“You fuckin love it, little slut.” You just nod, whining when he bites the thin skin of your ankle. “Cum all over Daddy’s cock, doll. Lemme feel that tight fuckin cunt soak my cock.”

You obey, of course you do, how can you not when Toji Fushiguro’s thick cock is shoving deep inside, stretching your little hole, when his rough pad of that thumb rubs your clit just so. When he’s looking at you like that? Of course you cum, shattering around him, losing vision as you gush all over, and he’s groaning, gripping your leg so tight it will bruise.

You whine out, gasping, and his head falls back, so fucking sexy, as you watch that Adam’s apple bob up and down under dark stubble, and he’s feeling you pulse around his length, that weeping tip dragging on your spot. He’s moaning now, shoving his thumb in your mouth.

“Taste that, little slut. Taste how wet ya get f’me.” You eagerly suck on that thumb, and he’s moaning now, coming to lay on you, his heavy weight so perfect on your body, now he’s fucking even harder, on hand on the side of your head, inky black hair falling over a brow.

He’s making you feel like you’re going to break, and your nails are digging into his shoulders, leaving half moons as you try to hold on. He’s slamming his lips against yours now, and drinking your cries, pumping harder and harder in your already sore cunt, and you tremble as you feel yourself close again, as each stroke sends you higher.

“Let me feel that sweet cunt milk me dry, let me hear you scream f’me.” He’s grunting it out now, as your walls clamping down so hard around him, his cock jolts in response. “It’s just us.”

“Just- us- ah! Daddy! ” You scream out now, and he groans right with you, as you let go of anything and everything, letting Toji fuck you stupid. He’s gripping your waist with his rough hands, and your eyes lock. Yours are cock drunk off him, your brows drawing together, struggling to focus as you’re pulled higher and higher.

“Ready f’me? Can you take- ah- all of it?” You nod, and he slams his lips on yours then, shoving up so deep you feel him in your stomach, feel him fucking everywhere, then he’s fucking with hard slaps, so rough it’s painful, but you love it. “Feel me fuckin your guts up, huh?”

“Sh-shut up… Toji. Mnh!” You’ve earned a light smack on your pretty face, then Toji’s hand wrapped around your throat.

“Bratty lil fuckin’ mouth. You shouldn’t be able to- ha- talk.” You’re dying now, as he’s choking you so hard, and wrecking your cunt, rubbing those sore walls raw, but you want him to. Feeling like Toji will split you in two is indescribable.

You can’t speak anymore, your eyes have rolled back, your mouth is stupidly open and your little tongue is lolling out, and Toji’s looking at you as he’s squeezing, as he’s fucking you, as he’s owning you. You are getting fuzzier and fuzzier, as he takes your oxygen, his own face contorted in pleasure, veins popping out of his neck, which you eagerly grip with limp hands.

Then he’s cumming, and so are you, his loud moan mixing with your broken whimper, as it’s fading to black while you’re shattering, cumming so hard it hurts, filled with Toji’s white cum. It’s coating your walls, his cock is pulsing more and more, so much it’s fucking stupid, and you’re gushing it all back out and down him, cumming so hard you’re convulsing.

He finally releases your throat, and you struggle to breathe, holding your throat and coughing then, as you greedily suck up the air he’d prevented. Then he’s kissing you again, and there’s no hope to catch that breath, not when he is utterly taking over your body and mind.

“Stupid f’me. Huh, doll?” He huffs, pulling out now, and his cum and your arousal slide and drip out of your sore little cunt. You whine at the sensation, at how sore you really are, and he’s softly rubbing the neck he’d left two hand prints on.

“You’re s-stupid.” You choke out, making him glare again, and you manage a breathy giggle, before he’s got you spun, on your knees now, whacking your ass so loud it reverberates in the room. “Ah! Ah, fuck !” You cry out, and he’s not going easy either, he’s thwacking you so good there’s welps.

“Ya done running that pretty mouth?” You nod weakly, and then bury your head in the bed, soft blankets making your already heated face even hotter, when he’s shoving the cum that’s poured back in your cunt. “Say sorry, be a good girl f’me.”

“Sorry, daddy, I am.” You look back and pout at him, viewing that sight behind you, his eyes locked on your pussy, his entire body glistening with sweat, enhancing every muscle he has.

“Good girl, let daddy take care of her.” He’s sinking off the bed on his knees now, and when you feel his tongue slide between your juicy lips of your cunt, lapping his own cum off you, you scream at it. “Fuck we taste good together.”

“Sensitive, daddy, ngh!” He’s humming against you, his big hands grabbing your ass and dragging it to his face, his chin is on your clit as he drinks both of your cum greedily out of your hole. “Ah! Fuck!”

“Mmmh, ya taste so good doll, I need you cumming again.”

You shiver, your cunt is somehow still soaked for this man and you can’t fathom how you have that much pouring out ( stay hydrated, reader ) but Toji is now fucking you with his tongue, taking it all down his throat, and you’re arching back, stupid mouth open again, eyes slamming shut as the pleasure works through you. You’re cumming again, you’ve lost count, you’re barely clinging on.

Once he’s lavved you clean, humming his satisfaction, his cock is sliding against you again, and you tense, hips jerking back. “Toji, my pussy hurts, I can’t go another round.”

“Can’t fuckin take dick, huh?”

“You left for months, so no , I cannot.” You turn and stick your tongue out, earning another smack that jerks your entire body.

“I haven’t had enough of ya, I need you to get that shit stamina in check.”

“Me!? Listen it hurts, your dick is huge and you’re not gentle shithead.”

“Shithead huh!?”

“Mmhmm! Ow!”

“Thought ya loved me, now I’m a shithead?” You giggle breathlessly, sinking your head on your arms, exhaling.

“I do love you, but you’re a shithead. Mmnh. Toji even eating me out is too much right now, I can only cum so much.” He’s back to licking you like a fiend, as if your pussy is the only thing that will fill him up and he’s starved. Then he flicks up, and you gasp when he’s got his tongue on that little hole. “Toji, don’t lick there!?”

“Why not, don’t like it?” He does it again, making you shiver in pleasure.

“I do, but that’s…”

“Nasty?”

“Mmhmm!”

“Doll, I’m nasty as fuck.” He’s doing it again, burying his face between your cheeks now, and that stubble scratches as his tongue flicks.

“Don’t- you- ah!- need to see… Megumi?”

“I’ll see him after I’m done with you. For at least a few.” He’s fingering your ass then and you’re screaming out at how good it feels, as his other fingers find your clit and press. “You like it, don’t ya doll?”

“S’good but… freaky fucking… Toji! Mnph! Did you just spit on it!?”

“I love spitting on you.” You shiver as he spreads the sticky spit all over your ass, plunging his thick finger back in, the burn makes you hiss, his other hand is now pulling at your hair, bringing you up to your knees in front of him. “Should let me take it first in all your fuckin holes.”

“Nasty… man, ngh…” He’s smirking right at you, as your eyes are fluttering shut from the stupid amount of sensations being pulled with expert, nasty fucking fingers.

“Not now then, scared little brat.”

“Not scared!”

“Mmhmm.” He eases his fingers out, stopping that insane pressure. “We’ll go spend time with Megumi, then.”

“We!? You mean you.”

“Nah, he needs to spend time with his step mom.” He’s grinning bright and white as you smack at him, turning and shoving his stupidly strong body.

“You stop that shit. So full of it.” You huff, blowing your hair out of your face while he’s got you in a tight hold.

“Think I’m full of it?” You nod with a glare. “Why, what’s wrong with the idea of being a stepmom?”

“We’d have to be married, idiot.”

“And.”

You blink then, confusion washing through you, and before you can demand he stop being so stupid , he has decided to slam a kiss on your lips, slack and open. You yank back. “Toji don’t say shit like that, I’m already fucked up enough from you. You’d never marry again, and I already know that.”

“I know I said that before. But…” He tilts your chin up, and his gaze is so easy to fall into, to lose yourself in, this man who’d just drank his cum out of you and smacked your ass so hard it’s burning. This man who’d just had a finger in your ass and even lapped at your toes. He’s somehow… sweet, genuine, loving.

You shake your head at the suggestion, at his look, your own eyes darting away, lashes lowering over them. “Don’t say that, don’t.”

“Think I wouldn’t, brat?”

“I know you wouldn’t. Let’s just… get ready.” You shove off him, you can’t have your heart anymore crushed than it would be when he leaves again, or when your dad finds out, fuck when everyone finds out.

How is there some future of a happy wedding and baby for you two?

And the agony of not believing it’s existence has you in tears.

“Doll… you too young for it?” He asks, suddenly holding your shoulders, and you exhale, shaking your head.

“That’s not it. It’s just, I can’t even think like that. I just wanna have fun with you while you’re here. I know it won’t be long.”

“I’ll keep seeing ya, doll, and bring you home to me on-”

“On breaks? What would I tell dad?”

He sighs, looking away then, running a hand through that shiny black hair. “You’re the rational one now!?”

“I guess fucking so. But… Toji?” He looks at you, his jaw tense, as you wrap your arms around him. “I don’t care, I’ll wait for the once every couple of months to fuck you. I won’t be with anyone else. I’m too ruined now.”

“Doll…” You’re tracing that cleft on his chin with your fingertip, and shut his mouth with a finger. “I want more than-”

“Shh. Don’t give me so much hope. Just kisses.” You’re yanking him down, and his hands grip you everywhere, until he lifts you, slamming you into the wall, and fuck if you won’t go again, even as your little cunt just hates you, no you’d push yourself to be consumed.

“I want more than that. Making me fsay it. Have me a whiny little bitch lately.” He speaks between kisses, as you both lose your breath. You taste his cum and yours on his tongue, that nasty, wicked tongue that annihilates any sense you have. “More than… that.”

“More?” He nods, gulping, and now you’re wrapped around him, legs around his lean hips, your arms around his strong neck, he holds you in his huge hands, and you feel your cunt throbbing as he’s pressing against you.

“Not just more sex. More you, doll.” You blink back tears then, and his face softens, a hand sliding up to cup it gently, delicately holding on and just watching you now. “More of you.”

“Toji… how…”

“Just come with me.”

“Toji I can’t! That’s selfish to ask. Sorry college, I need Toji’s dick.”

He grins at that, white teeth glinting, mischievous fucking look in those dark green eyes. “Ay, it’s good dick though.”

“Facts. But. No.”

“Ugh. Killing me. Okay, summer is coming, spend the summer with me? Ya got classes?”

“I have a three week break. Maybe I could be convinced to stay at a pervy old man’s house.” You whisper, trailing your fingers down his hard body, and smirking up at his angry scowl.

“You’re the one saying ‘oh no more, ow’ and I’m old?”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you.” You both glare, then you’re just kissing each other again, and he’s holding you like you’re nothing, as you dangle in the damn air, clinging to him, breathless. “Stubborn fuckin brat.”

“You love it, don’t you?” You nip his lower lip, then he pulls back a bit to study you, eyes committing you to memory.

“I love you, even if you’re a bratty little bitch.”

“Bitch!”

“Yep.”

“Asshole.” He smirks at you, and you’re kissing again, fuck will you ever get enough of this?

“Keep kissing me and we’re fuckin again, doll.”

“I can’t! She needs rest.”

“Rest. She got two months of that.” He rolls his eyes at you, then you’re cleaning up in the bathroom, and it’s oddly easy to be with Toji alone. He’s fixing his messy hair, putting on deodorant, and you’re using his toothbrush, then washing your face.

“Shit, Toji I looked like a racoon this whole time!?”

“You’re a sexy raccoon.” You smack him now, his big hands are gripping your hips, as he stares at you in the mirror, kissing down the side of your head. “Look how good you look in my arms, ma. Too pretty f’me.”

“Okay, Insta baddie.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Thousands of likes on one fuzzy ass picture!”

“Aw, my doll is jealous. I don’t want any of them, I want you , every bit of you, too.” He’s squishing your breasts now, and you are hopelessly leaning your head back, moaning softly at how good it feels. “Perfect tits. Perfect body.” His hands slide down the nip of your waist, the jut of your hips, around to your tummy, as he touches you everywhere with those big hands.

“We’ll never get anywhere if you start again. Don’t you wanna see Megumi?” He sighs, his brows low as he bites your throat. “You’ll give me more hickeys!”

“Good, they need to know who this belongs to.”

“This!? Am I some object or something you have some claim to?”

“Mmhmm, my toy, my doll. Just f’me.” He’s biting again, and you throw down the brush then, it clatters to the floor, as he’s pressing that hard cock against your back, and his touches are making your sore little cunt ache more.

“T-toji, fucking stop. Mmnh.” Your eyes close as you enjoy his touch far too much. “You need to spend time with your son.”

“Spending time with my baby mama.”

“Toji!”

“Oh fine.” He rolls his eyes at you, before pressing on your stomach, humming to himself.

“Stop thinking about putting babies in me, old man.” You turn, patting his cheek, leaning up to plant a kiss on his chin. “Go see Megumi.”

“I’ll pick you up tonight.” Your hands slide down his strong arms, fingers caressing his muscles, feeling the sinewy lines under your fingertips.

“You even gonna ask me, old man?” He smirks down at you, tilting your chin up with two fingers.

“Nah you want it. Don’t ya, pretty doll?” Your lashes lower, as he pulls you flush against his bare chest with his other hand, you feel his body heat radiating through you. “Ah-ah, look at me with those pretty eyes.”

“You’re awfully sweet. Usually such a jerk.” You do look up at him, as his lips part, then he sighs, caressing your cheek before he’s brushing back your hair.

“Fine I’ll ask nicely, since you’re such a brat. Will you stay another night? Before I have to leave.” Your heart starts to hurt now as you think of how he’s going to leave you, it sinks in your stomach, and it’s clearly reflected on your face, he frowns a bit now as you tense in his hold. “I’m not going to just dip the fuck off. I promise.”

“It’s hard to believe, that's all.” You feel little tears slipping down your cheeks, ones he swipes away with a serious set to his features. “I don’t blame you, Toji, it just really hurt.”

“I know doll, c’mere.” He pulls you against him, hugging you tightly, and you inhale that scent you’ve missed so much once more. “Making me soft. Embarrassing is what it is.”

“No, it’s just who you are deep down. Beneath all that aggressive bullshit. I love when you open up.”

“When I open up those thighs?”

“Toji Fushiguro!”

He’s just chuckling, and how his eyes crinkle in those corners, how that scar you now peck a kiss on stretches, fuck you’re in love, and terrified. “Sure you don’t wanna come, you’re gonna be a shit step mom to Megumi. He already had a shit dad.”

“You stop that. Go be a good dad for me , and I’ll call you daddy later, mmkay?” His eyes get lidded, and you feel him getting hard against your tummy. “Not right now old man, let’s go.”

*****

Three weeks later

“Fuck I miss ya, doll.” Toji murmurs on the phone, and you turn over to your side, sighing then, Toji calls you every night, and texts you all day. He has surprised you by sending things to your dorm, no flowers or anything. Vibrators.

Yeah.

Toji’s nasty.

Usually you would use those toys and he’d listen, or you’d send him videos, earning his hard cock with cum all over it in an image as a reward, but it was honestly torture. You toss and turn constantly, missing being filled by him, and now missing being held in his arms.

“Two more days, old man. Can you wait that long?” You ask softly, and he just exhales again, fuck you’re getting turned on by his breathing.

“I want you to stay longer than two weeks, that’s what I want.”

“Toji, I already promised dad a week. That would look awful. Plus, I miss him…” Toji sighs again. “That’s three sighs, old man.”

“I hate you not being with me. I gotta worry what college boy is staring at that ass, the one that belongs t’me.” You smile then, looking at your phone and requesting a video chat. “What’s that?”

“Facetime, old man. Accept it.” Soon Toji’s on the video, and your heart is thumping out of your chest, as you strip down your top, revealing your breasts that bounce gently as they’re released. He moans, setting you down now, and you watch as he’s grabbing for his cock under white sweats. “Miss them?”

“Askin’ dumb fuckin questions, doll. How are they even nicer? How?” You play with them gently, teasing him as you lean close to the phone camera. “I’ll come get ya early.”

“No, play with that cock for me, Daddy , I really wanna see.” You beg with a pout now, and you watch him eagerly, his hand stroking his huge cock up to the leaky tip and down to the base. Your pussy starts throbbing, already getting wet as you see him.

“Wanna suck on those pretty titties, wanna fuckin taste ya again.” You whine now, positioning yourself so that your thighs are spread, as you slide your panties down right in front of him. His moans reverberate through your body, until you can’t take it, it’s like torture not touching him. “Mnh, you want me to fill ya up again, don’t ya?”

“Ugh… yes, I do. This is the worst.” You lean back, watching him watch you, biting your lower lip while your own hand sliding down your stomach, over your bare mound, to your clit, rubbing it gently. You cry out at the touch.

“Spread them f’me. Lemme see all of that perfect cunt.” You do as he said, and watch him stroking that cock faster as he looks at you. “Oh yeah, doll, just like that, get yourself ready for me, you’re gonna get that cock so good when you're here.”

“Want you now.” You whisper, sliding a finger into your pussy, pulling out a stupid amount of wetness, his eyes are glued to your screen, watching as you play with yourself. “Look how wet I am for you, Daddy. Mmnh, so wet.” You’re rubbing your clit now with the slick you gathered, and your other hand is playing with a nipple, rolling it, pinching it.

“Fucking… this is stupid I’m leaving now.” You giggle a bit. “You can come a couple days early.”

“Toji… f-finals. Can’t.”

“Fuck me.”

“I will soon.” You giggle again, earning his glare through the phone screen now, as he’s stood up, looking down at the camera, and fuck if that angle doesn’t do things to you, like you’re looking up at him, ready to suck him. “Want him in my mouth.”

“Want you on my tongue.”

That makes you even more sensitive, imagining him tasting you right now, his tongue all over you. “Y’know… who needs… mmm, finals.”

“Grab that toy.” You get up and head to the dresser, grabbing the little vibrator you’ve been using from him. “Ah-ah, not that one. Want you to fuck yourself in front of me.”

You’re flushed then, as you hadn’t even taken that out of the box, you look back at the phone now. “I haven’t used one.”

“I know, it’s way smaller than my dick don’t worry.” He’s chuckling, and you roll your eyes, pulling out the little dildo he’d gotten out of the sleek black box finally, your hands trembling a bit as you get back over there, pushing it in bit by bit. Toji’s huffing, gripping his hair tightly, working himself, his abs flex as he moves.

“I’m nervous.” You admit then, pressing the silicon in your entrance, gasping when it fills you.

“That’s it, good girl. You’re being s’good f’me. Ease it in.” You’re shivering while you’re pressing it in even deeper, and your pussy is pulsing around the toy, it feels so different from Toji.

“I don’t like it like you. Want you inside me.”

“I know doll, I know… can you get it any deeper?” 

“No, I don’t… it’s not the same.” You pull it out then push back in, sliding it just a couple inches in and out, then it does start to feel good, but it’s not enough. “Not enough Toji.”

“Push in more, I know ya can. I bottom out in that pussy.” You’re all flushed as you glare at him, and he smirks, your lips ache to kiss that scar at the corner of his mouth. “Balls deep too.”

“Not the same. Mmm.” Your eyes shut as you begin to fuck yourself with it, as Toji’s noises from the back of his throat urge you, then you’re getting wetter. “Daddy… want you.”

“I want you s’fuckin bad it’s stupid. Wanna cum and fill that pussy, it’s only mine, isn’t it?”

“Only… y-yours…” Now his words urge you, the sounds he’s making, seeing him twisting a fist on that cock you want so badly. Your eyes go half lidded as you watch him watch you, your breath coming out in short gasps, your hips bucking. “T-toji, oh my… fuck I…”

“That’s it, doll, take it all like a good girl, I wanna see ya messy, that’s it.” He’s huffing as you’re crying out, as you’re imagining his cock thrusting instead, and soon your eyes shut, head falling back on your little twin mattress.

“Close, close. Need you, need you.” You keep whispering, over and over like a little mantra, now the toy is easily fucking in and out, and you feel yourself raising higher under his watch.

“Cum f’me doll, lemme see.” So you do, your orgasm hits you harder than your usual clit play, your eyes are rolling back, mouth open as you whine out your release. “Mmm, that’s it, cumming for daddy yeah?”

You slide the toy out, legs twitching, as you lean on elbows to watch him through the camera, as he starts to cum now, pumping white and messy from his reddened tip. You lay there, panting, your chest heaving as you watch his eyes shut, him covering his face for a moment, catching his breath. It’s all over his thick muscled thighs, up to his belly button.

“So messy for me.” You tease, earning a scowl, making you giggle at it. “What? I like it. Messy boy.”

“Boy, fuck no.” You watch him clean up now, his abs flexing with the movement, and you’re biting your bottom lip even harder, so hard you feel the skin break, feeling that ache deep in your core again, that need that’s never really satisfied even with the best of the toys.

“Messy man then.” You slide up your little panties, picking up the phone and laying it sideways, resting your head on your hand as you watch him do the same in his own bed. Your fingers trace the phone, wishing more than anything he was here physically.

“You’re too fuckin hot. Keep dreaming of that body, that face when you cum.” You flush at his words, looking down for a moment at those lips. He licks his lower one, darting over that scar.

“I dream of you too, Toji. But more than sex.”

“Didn’t say it was only sex f’me either.”

You’re both silent for a moment, ever since he left, those insane talks about babies and… living together? Marrying? Those weren’t a thing, it was typically purely you both being horny as fuck and playing. Or talking about life, about how you missed each other. But they linger, the things he spoke of.

Would Toji ever be serious like that?

“What’s on that mind, hmm? Should only be my dick.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “It takes over a lot for sure, but I guess there is more in my head than that.”

“Like what?”

“Mmm… it’s something we can talk about soon.”

He looks at you seriously, and now you feel emotion take hold of you, closing in your throat. “You sure doll?”

“Mmhmm. I’m sleepy. Gonna dream that I spank you for being a bad boy.” You snicker at his growl, covering your mouth with your hand as it mixes with a yawn now, your eyes getting heavy.

“That’ll never happen so keep dreaming.”

“Mmm, you love when I ride you though, don’t you?”

“I’m hard again brat. Gonna give it to you so good when I get you.”

“How are you gonna handle the three hour drive then?”

“Your mouth will be on my cock.”

“Oh yeah?” He just grins, that lewd grin, and you find yourself thrilled by the thought of it.

“Don’t worry, when you’re here I’ll eat you out right on my kitchen table. Finest fucking meal.”

“Mnh… Toji….” Now you’re wet, again, your pussy throbbing and practically begging for this damn jerk. Jerk you love. “No more until I see you, it’s literally the worst.”

He smirks at you now. “You would be a pretty little housewife, you know.”

Your eyes roll at that, then narrow. “Toji what do you even do?”

He’s full on grinning now. “Do you really wanna know?”

“Yes. No. Later.”

Soon you’re fading in and out of consciousness, exhaustion pulling at you. Classes and tests, along with all nighters studying, and fitting in time to talk with Toji as much as you can? Kind of exhausting, especially since he wants you to cum damn near every time you talk.

“Sleepy little thing.” He says it tenderly, you think with a muddled mind. “Good night doll.”

“Night Toji. Love you.” You mumble, blinking him into view once more, seeing his eyes blink a bit, as if he’s tired too.

“Love you, doll.”

Fuck his words make you smile, as you fall asleep. You’re so tired you didn’t hang up the phone.

*****

Toji’s headlights pull up, and Megumi, Nobara and Yuji are there, of course they were, and as Toji pulls up your heart stops. It’s been over three weeks, and you’ve missed him so bad you can’t stand it. You clutch your luggage closely to you, it may or may not have Hello Kitty on it.

“It’s the dilf.” Nobara says, sucking a lollipop then, and you cover your face in embarrassment, as does Megumi. Toji laughs, stepping out of the car now, a thin white shirt doing nothing to hide all his muscles, stretching across his chest and cutting off on his biceps.

The dark jeans he’s wearing hug him like a glove, and damn if your eyes weren’t shamelessly drinking in how good he looks. He takes your luggage and smirks at it, you glare. “Don’t say shit.”

He just pecks a kiss on your head, hugging you to him, then putting it in his car, then goes to Megumi, ruffling his spiky black hair. Megumi smacks at his hand. “Missed you kid.” Megumi rolls his dark green eyes, hands in his jeans pockets as he smirks at you.

“You came for her. Don’t even try that shit.”

“I also came to… say hi to you.” He snorts at that, and Toji’s eyes hit you then, draping down your body hungrily.

“Sure dad.”

“Hey dad!” Yuji waves with a grin, and Toji grimaces.

“Ugh you’re callin’ me that too?”

“Want them to call you daddy?” Nobara quips, earning her own glare from Toji Fushiguro.

“I see you can’t stop talkin’ about me, huh, doll?” He says then, and you’re flushed with the look he gives, you want to jump this man, fucking climb him, and also smack him. While fucking him!?

“Not at all.” You bat your lashes innocently, earning an eye roll from him.

“She just says you spit-”

“Yuji! I didn’t even tell you that!?” You smack a hand on his mouth, and now Toji’s grinning like the damn devil he is.

“Well I’m tired of getting left out.” He pouts now all cutely. “Plus, you know I was her first kiss, right?”

Toji cracks his knuckles at that, and Megumi is snickering behind his hand. “Oh shit, you’re gonna get your ass kicked.” Nobara says, giggling as she licks the lollipop again.

“I was just kidding!” He’s waving his arms like mad, as Toji approaches closer, until he dips out into a full run. You pop a hand on Toji’s chest now, your own laughter bubbling up in your chest.

“Don’t beat him up, old man.” You say, and he sighs.

“I’ll take it all out on you tonight then.” He whispers down at you, breath against your lips, drawing your gaze to them, and you can’t help but to step closer, licking your own lower lip in anticipation.

“Yuck! Yuck yuck yuck.” Megumi’s noises barely register, and you clear your throat a bit, stepping back. Toji just looks at him amusedly.

“What? It’s your future step mom.”

“Yuck! Go you two, blegh.” Megumi shivers, waving a hand as he and Nobara go off to find Yuji now, and you’re… alone with Toji. Outside your dorm building.

You’d fuck him right here.

“I missed you, old man.” You slide your hands up, wrapping them around his neck, your breasts pressed on his chest now, making him moan softly, grabbing your ass with two big hands, you squeak at it.

“Missed you, fuckin brat. Talking about my dick hmm?”

“Amongst other things.” You tap on his lips, and he’s got you in his car so quick you blink and you’re there, and he’s already got the car in gear. “How…”

“I can’t wait till we get home. Imma fuck you right here.” He huffs, then he’s pulling over just a bit away, into a dark little parking spot, abandoned this time of evening, when the sky is all pinks and purples.

“Wh-what?” You ask breathlessly, but he shakes his head, pulling your face to him as he lets the car purr, the rock music slowly playing in the background as his lips slam on yours, and you moan into them. “Oh… Toji, fuck. Feel s’good.” Your throaty whisper turns into a whine as he’s got his hands sliding down the side of your breasts now.

Your nipples perk right up, and he pulls back to look down at you, hunger clear in those green eyes, his lashes low over them, lips parted. “Fuck I missed tasting you, doll. Missed feeling you.”

“Me too. Me too.” Now you’re kissing him desperately, and he’s pulling you on his lap, you eagerly straddle him, his hands immediately sliding up to cup your ass under your skirt. He groaned against your mouth, his tongue pushing past your lips to explore your mouth with a hunger that matched your own.

The car was cramped, the steering wheel pressed against your back, the gear shift shoving in your thigh, Toji’s so goddamn huge everywhere you barely fit, your head is so close to his little roof you’re sure you’ll whack it, but it didn’t matter. Nothing else in the world mattered except the feel of his rough hands on your skin, the way his tongue danced with yours, the desperation in his grip.

You could feel his cock growing hard between your thighs, and you ground down against him, eliciting a deep groan from his chest. His hands slid up to your breasts, kneading them roughly, squishing them before his thumbs found your nipples. You gasped into the kiss, arching your back, and he took the opportunity to push his tongue even deeper into your mouth.

The world outside the car had faded away, you weren’t even sure where he had parked, and you really didn't care either. Not when you’re soaking wet between your thighs now, and all that existed was the two of you, tangled together in the front seat. You reached down and unbuckled his belt, sliding your hand into his pants to grasp his length, feeling him rock hard and hot in your palm.

“Freaky lil brat.” He huffs, but he’s panting heavily, and you see it, he’s as lost in this crazy fucking connection as you are, isn’t he. “Need to be inside you, now.”

“Then fuck me, Toji.” He’s frantic now, as lifts you just a bit off him, pushing the seat back as far as it would go. He slammed his mouth back down on yours as he’s yanking your panties to the side, sinking two fingers in, and you scream at how good it feels, soaking his hand. “Yes, yes there. Ngh!”

“So wet f’me, only me. Say it doll.” He presses those fingers, hitting your spot you can’t find for shit on your own, and you scream out, the car getting overheated as the two of you fill it with your desire. You lean forward, one hand bracing yourself by holding his shoulder, the other struggling to pump on him. “Say it.”

“Of course it’s only you, old man.” He glares now, yanking those fingers out, and you gasp. “N-no, back in, s-sorry!”

“Fuckin brat.”

Toji’s hand slid back up your skirt, his calloused fingers finding your panties soaked with need, sticking to you. He rips them off then, and you blink in shock. “I really liked those!”

“Shouldn’t even wear panties around me then.” He tosses them and you glare, breathless as his fingers are sliding back into your wet heat.

“You take them all!”

He grins, chuckling under you, but then he’s fucking you with those fingers so good you hear yourself squishing in the little car, and your eyes are rolling back, as your head tilts back, shoving your breasts in his face as you scream out. He’s shoving that top up with his free hand, sucking on your breasts, your nipples which are so sensitive you can’t stand it,

“F-fine. Keep them, freaky old man.” You grind down onto his hand as he works you closer to the edge, your body overheating as he’s watching you hungrily. You needed him inside you, filling you up, claiming you like only he could, and you’re already cumming from just one more pump of thick fingers.

“That’s it, doll, cum like a lil slut f’me.” His nasty words are just what you want, you’re falling apart over him, clenching his fingers like a vise as you can’t even see anymore, it’s all feeling too fucking euphoric. You’re floating on that high, Toji makes you cum better than a vibrator ever could. “S’wet too, slutty lil cunt.”

“Fuck me, please. Please.” You’re begging, and you don’t care that you’re begging either, you need him so goddamn bad you can’t stand it. His eyes never leave yours as he lines himself up with your entrance now, moaning and biting his lower lip with stark white teeth.

“Begging, so fuckin desperate huh doll? For an old man .”

“Shut up, please . Fuck me. Please… I… Ah!”  With one swift movement, Toji’s eight inches are buried deep inside you, and you both cry out at how good it feels, as you’re stretched beyond your means, as your cunt is squeezing him so tight.

“F-Fuck… doll, I…” He exhales, blinking a bit, his usually sure hands squeezing your hips so tight you can’t breathe. Your eyes lock, and his lids lower, his jaw relaxing and his cheeks going red as he lifts you up his length, then slams you back down. He buries his head against your chest, and you cling to his head, shivering as you struggle to take him.

“Toji… Toji …” He began to move now, his hips driving into you with a force that had you gripping the headrest above him to balance yourself, to cling. Each stroke brought you closer to the precipice, and you could feel the beginnings of your climax already building low in your belly.

You wrapped your legs around him, thigh uncomfortably shoving into the door on one side, the console on the other, as you’re pulling him in deeper, your breath hitching with each powerful thrust. Toji’s eyes were dark with lust as he watched you, his jaw clenched, drinking you in, hands everywhere.

The way his chest heaved with every breath, the way his fingers dug into your skin as he held you down, how gorgeous he looks makes you wetter and wetter, until you’re gushing all over him, down his length, down his thighs. He’s inhaling as he shoves up so deep you scream out, making you cum now, you’re cumming so hard it takes over everything you are.

“Toji! Ngh!”

“ Good girl .”

“Fuck!” He’s kissing you again, you cling to him eagerly, sliding your hips up and down now, bouncing on his cock, stretching you out, and it’s so intense you’re just seeing stars as you’re soaking him.

“That’s it, doll. Let me feel you.” His words are quieter than usual, his tone husky as he’s feeling you pulsing around his length. You slam your lips back on him again, as he drinks you cries, a hand sliding up your back, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

You leaned back, feeling his cock slip out of you slightly, and you watched his face tighten. You reached down and guided him back inside, sighing with relief as he filled you completely once more. Your hips began to move again, matching his rhythm, your hands sliding up his back to tug at his shirt, lifting it up to reveal more of where you two are joined.

“Look at you sucking me in s’good, ma.” He shoves up then, leaning back, hands on your thighs as he rolls his hips, that tip pressing on your cervix. Your back arches, eyes fluttering shut as you move with him.

The world outside the car was forgotten, the only thing that mattered was the connection between the two of you, silent aside from his moans and yours intermingling in the car now. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small space, as you took his length more and more, bouncing on his cock up and down.

Toji’s whispering your name, it sounds so good on his lips as you move, watching him, that steering wheel pressing into your back, not that you care, it just makes the sensation of his throbbing cock in you even better. You see him, sweat on his brow, that jaw clenched, then he stills you, gripping you bruisingly now, fucking into you so hard you’re screaming out, one of your hands smacking the window next to you.

“Want me to fill ya, doll? My doll. My perfect… My… fuck…” He’s losing his own train of thought, as he’s shoving you down on him, harder and harder now, and you whimper, resting your head on his now, foreheads touching, slick with both of your sweat, your hands clinging to his bare arms desperately.

“Cum in me, please. Please, Daddy .” You whisper, then he falls apart under you, pushing one more time and then his head falls back, his grip brutal. You kiss down his neck, biting when you feel him cum so deep, whispering your name.

“Cum with me. Doll. Milk me.” He’s pressing up so deep you can barely handle it, feel him in your damn throat like you can’t breathe. You’re falling apart right with him, as he’s pulsing inside you, cum shooting so much it’s falling out right around him as you cum with him. “F-Fuck… doll… love… you.”

“Love… you…” You whisper back, and you all kiss frantically, holding hands now, over your hips, entwined, his hot cum filling you so good you’re oversensitive, as your clit is grinding against his pelvis, and the friction along with cum in your cervix has you a mess. “Toji…”

“Mine. You’re mine. Aren’t ya doll?” He cups your face now, looking up desperately, as he shivers just for a moment, his long lashes covering those eyes, and you nod eagerly, grinding on his sensitive tip, making you both whine.

“I’m yours. Toji Fushiguro. All yours.” He’s kissing you desperately, as his cock twitches inside of you, little spurts of cum still pouring into you somehow. He’s got his hands in your loose hair, pulling it hard, lips brutal. He sucks all your oxygen, as the car is purring beneath you both, as your heart is pounding out of your chest.

It’s silent, the smacking kisses the noise now, as your ass at some point has knocked off Toji’s music, and he’s just kissing you over and over. When you pull away to catch your breath, his eyes are so serious when they look at you, and you feel it, all the ways he missed you too.

“Fuck.” Is all he says, exhaling and tracing your collarbone with his thumb, dipping in the hollow there, eyes taking every bit of you in. “How am I gonna last without this again?” His voice is hoarse as he says those words, and emotions start hitting, mixed with your inability to think straight, you feel it even more.

“I know, I know.” You snuggle with him then, and he holds you close, kissing down the side of your neck, hands touching you everywhere he can.

“All this trip Imma be convincing you to just stay home and have my kid.” You giggle, shaking your head. “Ya think I’m joking, huh brat?”

“I know you are. Stop all that.”

“Stop wanting to put a kid in ya? Nah, doll, not happening.” You ease off him then, flushing when you see the mess you’ve made, his cock looks so lewd it’s obscene, dripping with his own cum and your arousal. “Well?”

“Well what?” You ask curiously, scooching over to the seat. And he’s raising a dark brow. “What!”

“Clean me up, it’s a long trip.” You blink a bit, as he scoots his seat up and starts to drive.

“Huh?” He grabs you by your hair, still focusing seamlessly on the road, dragging your head over to his lap now.

“Clean. Me. Up.”

Oh.

Chapter 10

[kareofbears]

blinding lights, chapter 3/4

Their height gap is a wide one, but in no way is Sumire going to let Akechi keep looking down on her. “It became my business the minute we wanted the same thing: to fix this reality.“

—

Akechi and Sumire have to traverse through the events of the third semester without Akira (or rather, against him).

read on ao3 or under the cut!

——

On a technical standpoint, rain doesn’t bother Akechi.

Whenever it rains, no matter if it was just a drizzle or a downpour, people scramble to the nearest overhang, praying that they don’t get drenched. Such a trivial thing to get panicked by, he thought. City rain like this was hardly something to fear, yet it remains a constant in societal culture—water starts falling from the sky and people stop whatever they’re doing to duck for cover.

And since Akechi had long since accepted to reform himself into the mold of society rather than the other way around, here he was, in the middle of Kichijoji, shoulders pressed back against the building of Darts & Billboards, waiting for the rain to tire itself out.

Out of all the habits he’s practiced and perfected from his days of deceit, it’s strange that hiding out from rainfall is one of the few that he still can’t shake, inconsequential as it was. He had learned that mimicking what can be considered societal norms and exercised it in everyday life can at least trick most people that he, Akechi Goro, can be lumped in with the norms and be heightened to excellence later on. People hid from droplets and because the path of normalcy is what he wanted, he decided that he’ll hide with them.

It took him a long time to narrow down why it bothered him. Why, for some reason, it had pissed him off that idiots would commit to such an insignificant action. It’s because when people run for cover, when they prioritize the act of hiding over everything else, they’re essentially allowing the rain—this overall harmless entity—to prevent them from reaching their destination. Fools let their decisions be dictated by the weather, wasting their time waiting it out, letting themselves be dictated beyond their control.

It’s a product of the collective unconscious; rather than pushing past the drizzle to reach their destination, or continue living their life as it were before the storm clouds rolled in, the masses decided that the better decision was to cease all movements because it would be easier. When it rains, society comes at a standstill.

“D’you always just stand in the middle of the promenade lookin’ pissed, or am I just lucky?”

Akechi blinks and turns his head to see a patch of bright, blond hair with an even brighter grin. His purple hood was pulled up, but it’s too short that it does little to block out the downpour.

Sakamoto Ryuji stands in front of him, completely drenched and unbothered.

“I’d hardly call it luck, so much as a coincidence.” Flicking his eyes downward, Ryuji adjusts the heavy looking plastic bags hanging off of his wrists. “And you?”

“Doing some grocery shopping for my ma. She’s been real busy at work, so…” he shrugs.

It really was a strange coincidence that he shows up like this, unprompted. The universe, if it ever was sentient, had never thrown him a bone. However, for Ryuji to show up, it almost seems like a waste to let it go.

If he’s been wanting to see Sakamoto up close, this is as good as it’s gonna get.

“How do you feel about joining me in some people-watching?” Akechi asks.

Ryuji’s eyes light up. “Sure! These bags are getting heavy anyway, could use a break.” He dodges a stream of water flowing cleanly from the gutter and joins Akechi underneath the overhang. Whether he can sense Akechi’s discomfort or perhaps it’s a feeling residing from the real reality, Ryuji had kept a gap of about a meter between the two.

“I hope I didn’t take you away from any pressing matters, Sakamoto.”

“Nah,” he gently sets down his bags before turning to give Akechi his full attention. “Don’t got much waiting for me back home with my ma at work, but can’t stay for too long,” he nods his head down to his bags. “She’d kick my ass if I let the milk go bad.”

Ryuji laughs, shoulders shaking. “But y’know, I see you hangin’ with ‘Kira sometimes, and any friend of that bastard is a friend of mine. And, uh, speaking of…” With an expression of guilt and reluctance so tremulous that Akechi can only compare it to a child getting caught with their hand in a cookie jar. “That’s kinda what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Yes, technically he’s an unforgivable hypocrite for advising Sumire against speaking to Ryuji, but that won’t stop him from getting the information he needs. (It never has.)

After all, there must be something special about Sakamoto in order to have Kurusu Akira wrapped around his finger.

“Oh?” he responds.

“Yeah, it, uh, might be a bit awkward so I’ll do my best to be straight about it,” Ryuji looks embarrassed, but determined. “I know the feeling of not wanting to say something, to have it weigh you down and shit. Basically, what I’m tryna say is: you don’t just gotta rely on Akira!”

Akechi’s eyes widen. It should’ve been impossible. How did he figure out about Akira and the other reality when he hasn’t even been snapped out of it—

“You looked super stressed back in New Year’s and I get that you’d rather talk to Akira, but he’s a busy guy. And I know we aren’t close, but if you want to vent, or just, I dunno, get some ramen together?” he shrugs and throws a smile in Akechi’s direction. “I’m here for you.”

Akechi’s face is carefully blank. He’s wrong, because of course Sakamoto didn’t figure it out. (Has he ever figured anything out?)

He had done extensive research on the Thieves the second he got a whiff of who they might be, and that was especially the case for the initial members of the group. Sakamoto Ryuji, a second-year in the now infamous Shujin Academy. Formerly the star of the track team, his leg was snapped beyond repair by Kamoshida, the Thieves’ initial target. While he had always possessed a temper, it had grown exponentially when the teacher had faced no charges and he was shunned by the rest of the school. It’s like the Boy Who Cried Wolf—except there had undoubtedly been a wolf, and the boy ended up with a lifetime’s worth of permanent damage.

At first, he had chalked up Ryuji’s temper as yet another weakness—Akechi had learned firsthand just how fast the hand of authority strikes if one were to place a toe out of line. It’s how he decided to perfect the weapon of deceit. Akechi learned from his mistakes, to the point that his heart had split itself into two people he could become: Loki as his true self, and Robin Hood as who he needs to be.

Even Akira had understood the hubris of exposing himself, had felt the same punishment that Akechi was subjected to (ironically by the same person). In a world where a mask can be the difference between life and death, Akechi and Akira had decided to be its executioner rather than the one subjected to the sharp end of the guillotine.

By the nature of these rules, Ryuji should have been beheaded. And he was.

But instead of learning his lesson the way Akechi and Akira had, he had been rejuvenated. Instead of bending to the will of authority, he let that pressure mold him into something tougher, let the anger inside him fester and grow.

It had made sense, in hindsight, why Ryuji had treated him the way he did (it’s not like Akechi had the best intentions). So seeing him like this, where he never found out Akechi’s true personality, allowed him to see Ryuji in his natural state.

A feeling surges within Akechi, so foreign that it takes him slightly too long just to name it. All around him, deep in his gut, spread all the way to the tips of his fingers and his toes is wave after wave of…

“I’m done here,” Akechi says.

Discomfort.

“Huh?” Ryuji cocks his head. “Uh, was that weird of me to say? My bad, Ann’s always said I had a big, fat mouth. Sorry, yeah we aren’t close and stuff. Just thought it’d be nice—”

Akechi holds back a click of his tongue and, with a little effort, morphs his expression into one of false platitudes and plasticity. A slight quirk in his lips (not too high or it’ll scare them), tilt his head at a certain angle, and raise his voice an octave to indicate an apology. “Sorry to leave so suddenly. Thank you for your time.”

The rain had stopped sometime during their conversation and he hates that the universe seemed like it had taken pity on him.

Ryuji says something to him, but Akechi refuses to listen to another word—he doesn’t need to. He got what he wanted. All it took was one conversation for Akechi to know exactly what Akira sees in him.

That incessant authenticity and kindness shouldn’t exist in a world like this. It shouldn’t have existed in an angry boy like him.

Akechi tries (and fails) to look like he isn’t running away.

It was only when he was in bed later that night that he realized he didn’t find out what Ryuji’s wish was. Given the way he said Akira’s name though, Akechi didn’t have to think too hard.

—

AG: The biggest gray area in this has to be with Niijima Makoto YS: wow. I didn’t think you’d be straight-forward with your relationship with her. thank you for your honesty. YS: you both must have a difficult history with one another :( AG: What are you talking about? AG: I’m saying I don’t know where to find her. YS: ah. i see. YS: haha how about we just pretend that never happened?

They checked Shujin Academy (closed for winter break), Aoyama Itchome (for good measure), and finally the bookstore in Central Street (the smell of books is so lovely) before Akechi began to lose his temper.

“It wouldn’t be a huge surprise if we just found her in the middle of Tokyo University impersonating a research assistant as some sad excuse to feel some adrenaline for the first time in her life,” he says as they walk down the escalator, prepared to hop on the train and try somewhere else.

Sumire frowns. “Being studious doesn’t make someone boring.”

“Of course it doesn’t. Kurusu is at the top of his class and a huge public nuisance. No, Niijima’s absolutely underneath the sole of academics and government propaganda from her father since day one.”

“You don’t like her?”

“I don’t like anyone,” he replies. “Especially not someone so tied with practicing law like she plans to.”

They round the corner. “You can talk to her about that yourself.”

Standing by the overpriced-looking smoothie bar is Niijima Makoto, accompanied by a beautiful older woman who looks like she can melt down a rusted car with a single glare.

“I would think that Sae-san would quite actually murder me if I were to bring that up.”

“You know the other woman?”

“It would be rude not to know my co-workers after all,” says Akechi. “That’s prosecutor Niijima Sae—Makoto’s sister as well as one of the Thieves’ targets from the past.”

Sumire ponders over the odds for a second. “Did she happen to have a casino as a Palace?”

He pauses. “Yes. As a matter of fact, she did.”

“Amazing! What luck!” she beams. “May I try and guess what their wish may be?”

“Is this nothing but a game to you?” he says immediately, before stopping himself. “…One guess.”

Brows scrunching together, she leans towards him, shoulders sagged as if she was carrying a secret so heavy that it physically weighed her down. Poker chips, alcohol bottles, and slot machines… “Did Makoto-senpai wish for Sae-san’s gambling addiction to go away?”

Akechi stares at her. “Who was it again that taught you how Palaces work?”

“Morgana-senpai.”

“If that’s the case, I’m simply over the moon that he didn’t join us on our mission.” They walk towards the Niijimas, who were still chatting amicably with one another. “Their father passed when they were young; it left their family jaded, it was traumatizing, et cetera, I’m sure you get the gist.”

“Wait, I really don’t—”

���Akechi? What a coincidence!”

The sisters greeted them with kind eyes and soft smiles, and Sumire has to accept that she’s out of her league for this one—the student council president may have been a common name around school, but it hardly ever came with more information other than how good her grades were, as well as the potential ‘narc’ comment. But despite what Akechi thinks, no Phantom Thief could possibly be on the side of the police; they’ve all had enough firsthand experience with that particular institution to see just how often the system has failed them.

Akechi nods. “It truly is,” he says, as if they hadn’t spent half the day walking around Tokyo scrounging for them. “This is Yoshizawa Sumire, Sae-san.”

“Pleasure to meet you!”

“Likewise,” Sae says.

“I have to admit, I’m quite surprised to see you here,” Akechi says. “Did we interrupt you both?”

“Not at all. We were just doing some grocery shopping for dinner tonight. Our father’s been having a craving for teriyaki,” she answers. “Why so surprised, Akechi?”

“Nothing in particular,” he says, and Sumire can feel his smugness radiating from where she’s standing. Well, he is a detective, so she’s not too shocked. “It’s simply refreshing to see you spending time with your family, despite being as busy as you are.” With a tilt of his head, he turns to Makoto. “I haven’t heard about your father for a long time.”

Makoto recoils a little, and winces. “My…father? No, wait, dad’s been gone for…It doesn’t make any sense…:

Sumire nearly startles when Makoto suddenly straightens up, gaze clouded. Akechi clicks his tongue.

“Sorry,” she says, a bit dizzily, already taking a step back. “Sae and I need to make it to the grocery store before it closes.”

Sumire waves half-heartedly and sighs when they’re gone. “Niijima-senpai perhaps had the most graceful escape so far,” she comments.

Pulling back his sleeve, Akechi peers at his watch. “It’s two pm. She could’ve done better,” he scoffs. “It’s a shame. I had high hopes for her to be the first one. She’s the only one in that circus who had more than one brain cell and isn’t named Kurusu.”

“…May I ask you something?”

“You’re already asking a question, just ask it.”

Sumire rocks back and forth on her heels. “Why do you call him that?”

“Because that’s his name?”

“Last name,” she corrects. “Why not call him by his first name?”

“What kind of question is that? Is this a test? A trial to prove that I’m willing to be honest?” Sumire stays silent. “Alright then, if it’ll help you sleep at night. I can’t possibly fathom how you still haven’t figured out that he and I aren’t as buddy-buddy as you think.”

“Well, yes, I know that but—”

“And you?”

Her heart rate skyrockets. “What about me?”

“You call him by his surname as well, even topped off with a ‘senpai’ at the end,” Akechi raises a brow. “Why not on a first name basis?”

“W-we aren’t that close!” she exclaims. “That’s reserved for people who’s close to him, like a good friend, or a girlf—boyfr—partner. We just… aren’t that.”

“Strange, isn’t it?” Akechi says. “We aren’t even on a first name basis with him, yet here we are; fresh from New Year’s, running around Tokyo for his friends who should be doing this instead.”

(Sumire very nearly says it, what’s been on her mind since Maruki’s Palace. But as it stands, she doesn’t want to ruin the foundation—very unstable, can most definitely blow away with a strong gust of wind, but a foundation nonetheless—that she and Akechi reluctantly built.)

“Yes, it really is strange.”

—

AG: Are you particularly close with Okumura? YS: unfortunately not, no. i’ve heard about what happened to her father, though. Perhaps her wish is related to his passing. AG: …Yes, I believe it is. I would think that the two of them would look at ways of expanding the Big Bang business. So basically, Tokyo Hotspots. YS: kichijoji? that place is always bustling YS: not to mention, i’d love for them to open up there. their milkshakes are incredible ( ◜‿◝ )♡ AG: Good call. We’ll try there first then. AG: At any rate, it will be a very quick confrontation with her.

“So I’ve been thinking—”

“A dangerous pastime, but go on.”

Sumire huffs without heat as they traverse Kichijoji—busy even in this time of year, though in no small part because of the shrine nearby. “We’ve been doing this…” What are they doing? “Saving our known reality business for nearly a week now. It hasn’t been going the best.”

Neither of them need a reminder that their victory ratio is currently at a strong zero to six. “So maybe we need to change it up a bit! I thought up a strategy last night that I think we should implement today,” she beams up at him.

Akechi’s gaze can wither flowers. “Do you need me to explain how idiotic that sounds?”

“Oh, come on Akechi! We need all the help we can get, especially since we only have two left. Plus, you haven’t even heard the strategy. Would you like to hear it?”

She doesn’t wait for his response before eagerly pushing through. “I understand and accept that you’re a bit ruthless, which is great! Well, great if that’s who you are. And since you called me a goody two shoes that one time, I figured we can go with that.” Sumire steps in front of Akechi and raises her hands to the sky, chin tilted upwards. “We can do the ‘good guy, bad guy’ strategy! That’s what we’ve been doing anyway. It can be like Zootopia.”

A silence stretches out—Sumire’s grin unfaltering and Akechi’s perfectly blank.

Then, “What the fuck is a Zootopia?

“Did you not watch that movie? It was pretty big.”

“Do I look like someone who’d watch a documentary on the animal kingdom?” His eyes zero in on something. “Lucky us, we found them.”

Okumura Haru stands with whom Sumire can only assume is her father. The speak amicably with each other, adoration radiating off of them as they point and gesture at the various businesses around the promenade.

“Don’t forget the strategy,” she whispers.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds sarcastically.

A feeling of optimism blossoms in Sumire’s chest as they approach the Okumuras. Maybe it’s the nice weather, or it’s another opportunity to finally achieve their goal of gaining one of Akira’s allies. Mostly though, she chalks it up as relief that even though it’s far from perfect, Akechi’s finally starting to let down the drawbridge, bit by bit.

And that’s when Haru decides to look in their direction.

Instead of the initial small talk, the breadcrumbs that hint towards their other reality, instead of gently edging them to the truth, Haru had completely bypassed all of that. A feeling of deja vu tugs strangely at Sumire as she takes in her expression—the usual confusion and pained tightening of the brows, but this time, a raw, unquestionable fury morphs onto her features.

It’s a near-perfect replica of Futaba’s expression.

After a few seconds, Haru says something to her father, and they leave, leaving Akechi and Sumire mid-stride in the middle of the promenade.

Another silence reigns over them, heavy and suffocating despite the bustle of Kichijoji.

“We didn’t even need to talk to her,” Akechi says. “An efficient failure.” The silence stretches on. “You have something to say..”

Sumire shoots him a dark look. “Alley,” she says, voice uncharacteristically low. “It might upset the families if we speak rudely in front of them.”

She leads them to the backstreets, where most stores are closed until the nightlife crowd rolls in. It was empty, and only the metal shutters and stray plastic bags strewn about the pavement were present to hear them.

“Of course I have something to say,” Sumire says, fists clenched tightly at her sides. “You promised back at Leblanc. You said that you won’t withhold information from me anymore, for the sake of the mission.”

She points behind her in the direction of where the Okumura’s left. “Despite what you may like to believe, I’m not an idiot who won’t notice something as obvious as Okumura-senpai running away the second she sees you. She didn’t even speak to us before she ran, which is considerably worse than Sakura-chan.” Sumire’s eyes narrow. “What are you still hiding from me?”

Throughout her speech, Akechi didn’t even blink. “Has it occurred to you that I simply lied when I made that pesky promise to you, or are you still the same person who fell right into Maruki’s waiting hands last spring?”

Sumire recoils as if she’d been hit. “Don’t bring that up, it has nothing to do with this—”

“Doesn’t it?” his voice is cold. “Isn’t the reason why you’re so desperate for me to be open with you is that you have some sort of trust issues?”

“That’s not it.”

“Finally we’re getting somewhere,” Akechi’s red eyes seem to be glowing despite the darkness in the shadowed alley. With a sickening feeling, she realizes he’s enjoying this. “Let me take a guess. You’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart, an overflowing kindness that you have to act on and spread across the globe. And, if you’re simply good and lucky enough, maybe, just maybe, your beloved ‘Kurusu-senpai’ will look away from his little group long enough to see how sweet and kind you are—”

“Shut up,” she cuts him off. Her voice is slow and deliberate. “You want to know what I’m doing this for? It’s because I’m sick and tired of these hellish lies.”

Akechi stays quiet as she continues, struggling to speak while her eyes blazed with fury. “I basically just found out that I’m not who I thought I was for the past ten months. Do you know what that feels like? It’s like if someone kidnapped me, shoved me in the back of a van, blindfolded. Maruki, bless his soul, forced me to believe whatever garbage he thought was best for me. It makes me sick to think that I fell for that reality, never once did I question it.”

She clenches her jaw. “You know what I want, Akechi? It’s not the philanthropy you’re so obsessed with, or senpai’s affection. What I want is my kidnapper to fail. I want him to regret what he did to me, to stop what he’s doing to everyone else. Even if his intentions were good, I am not going to let him get away with this,” Sumire looks directly into Akechi’s eyes. “And you are not going to be the one to slow me down.”

Chest heaving, she realizes she’s breathless. After a brief pause, Akechi speaks.

“Our motivations aren’t too far off from one another,” his voice is strangely cool, as if his fury and long since dissipated from the surface and had manifested into something sharp and dangerous. “You said you’re tired of the lies? Of being used like some kind of puppet, a test subject? Of having the rug pulled from you just because someone fucking felt like it? Good. But our similarities stop there.”

He leans back against the metal gate of a closed bar. “At the root of it, you want to stop Maruki so that he doesn’t push his beliefs to anyone else. Whether you like it or not, your motivation is accidental philanthropy. I could not give less of a shit about Maruki, or Tokyo, or even the rest of this damned world. I just want to be able to live in a reality where I get to choose what I want to do.”

“So let me help you!” she exclaims, frustrated. “Some detective, you are—keeping secrets isn’t going to help this situation.”

“You still don’t get it, do you? I tried to make this as easy to understand as possible, but I guess I just have to make it obvious.” Akechi straightens up and from the smirk resting on his mouth and the way his brow is lifted, condescension is simply dripping from him. Sumire refuses to recoil. “I don’t care if you want to help me. I am a selfish person who does what he wants. I’m willing to tear down anyone in my path, use anyone in my way, if it means that I get what I want.”

“Maybe you are!” Sumire says. “A selfish person, I mean.”

Akechi blinks, and throws his head back, loud laughter echoing through the alley. “‘Maybe I am?’” He laughs again, nearly doubling over. When he sobers up a bit, she has to force herself not to flinch. It’s as if something had unhinged in Akechi and she’s seeing the result of that—his eyes are twinkling as his smirk stretches even further over his face; an edged grin. “Do you need an example, Yoshizawa? Proof? Citation for what I’ve done just so you can understand? Look forward to it, since you’ll learn at long last why Sakura and Okumura took one look at me and fled.”

Bending over slightly so that he’s eye-level with Sumire, he announces: “I killed Sakura Futaba’s mother and Okumura Haru’s father. I am a murderer.”

“So am I.”

Akechi stops breathing, blinking as he processes what Sumire just said. She only looks back through narrowed eyes, daring him to say something.

When he doesn’t, she relaxes a bit. “Are you in the mood for darts? Since we finished with Okumura-senpai much earlier than expected, we have some time. And besides,” Sumire brushes her bangs out of her eyes. “There’s more to discuss, and I’m not really feeling this alley anymore.”

—

“It’s different. You must know that it’s different.”

Sumire waits until she gets their darts from behind the counter. “I know.”

Darts & Billiards was never particularly full, but it was never empty either. There were a few groups, pairs, and serious soloists that filled the entire room with indecipherable chatter and the loud clack of eight-balls colliding with one another. Anything that Akechi and Sumire might talk about thankfully gets shrouded by the white noise.

“Any preferences?” she says, waving around the dart in her hands.

“701,” he says immediately. “Anything lower is child’s play.”

Sumire nods as she inputs the settings. “Kurusu-senpai said something before he went with Dr. Maruki,” she began. “He said that he was doing this for his friends—the Thieves, myself,” she glances back. “And in his words, ‘especially you.’”

“And what of it?” Akechi asks.

“I believe that Kurusu-senpai knows of your past, knows your struggles and whatever you’ve gone through. I can only guess what you’ve had to endure, and how it led you to what you did to their parents.” Sumire offers him his set of darts. “May I go first?”

Akechi nods and she takes her stance—despite everything, she’s a little nervous playing darts with someone who actually plays to win.

Sumire throws it as best she can when Akechi speaks. “Does it justify it, then? If my life was difficult enough, would you give me a pass for killing innocent people?”

“No,” she casts another dart. “It doesn’t. Nothing really justifies that.” Pinching her last dart between her fingers, she fiddles as she thinks. “But I accidentally killed my sister over my incompetence in gymnastics.”

“But that’s the difference,” Akechi waves his hand. “It wasn’t an accident that they died by my hands. I had planned it, plotted it, and accomplished it. What you did wasn’t deliberate; it was a spur of the moment decision to run into traffic.”

Sumire hurls her final dart a little harder than usual. “I didn’t say that you should be forgiven, Akechi! I mean, I still don’t forgive myself. But even if it is different, I can at least understand your sentiments a fraction better than anyone else can. Do I think that it’s fine that two people who’re the same age as us lost their parents? Of course not. It makes me ill just thinking about it.”

She walks to the board and gingerly plucks off her darts. “But if I tried to pretend that I don’t understand what you’ve done—that isn’t right, either.”

He has a thoughtful expression on his face, his darts rolling between his fingers similar to how people fidget with loose change; Sumire hadn’t even known it was possible to do that. “Interesting.”

Stepping up to the mat, Akechi tilts his body sideways, obviously practiced in the game. His expression doesn’t change when it lands on a triple twenty.

“Do you regret it?”

His hand is steady as he throws—another triple twenty. “The murders? It depends.”

“On?”

“Do I regret being caught, used, and humiliated by losers who I thought were beneath me? Yes. Do I regret ending the lives of many?” casting his third dart, it lands so close to the others that they wobble in unison. “No. Not really.”

Sumire’s next round was a silent one, Akechi’s confession playing on repeat in her mind. He had simply said it with no hesitation; his tenor hadn’t changed, posture didn’t shift. The words that flowed out of him had no emotion whatsoever—they were clinical, like a doctor stating the facts to a terminal patient.

The ongoing background noise paid no mind to their silence, stuck in its blissful ignorance despite the pair’s topics. If there’s one guarantee in this world, it’s that it’s extremely likely that no one will listen just as the conversation is getting important.

Akechi’s on his second turn when he says, “You took well to the fact that I’ve killed in cold blood.”

“I knew that you were hiding something,” she says. “It’s because of how you act. You were a little cruel back in the Palace, and while it’s no excuse, people who have…” she scratches her head. “A hardened heart usually has a nasty past, and what Kurusu-senpai said only confirmed it.”

No matter how many times he does it, Sumire still gets impressed by his casual triple twenty.

Swapping places with him, she closes one eye as she ponders over her strategy. “But despite the fact that you’re a ruthless sort of person—” her dart sails forward and sticks to the board. “I’m willing to look past it if it means we can change reality.” Sumire cocks her head at him. “Can you?”

Akechi stays silent as Sumire launches another dart—one more and they can win it. “Selfish is what we call ourselves, right?” she says. “That we’re only in it for yourselves, regardless of what happens to everyone else. If we work together and it raises the odds of getting what we want, doesn’t that still play into the fact that we’re acting for our own benefit?”

She lines herself up for the last point, and takes a deep breath. “What did you call it? Accidental philanthropy?” she throws her dart and watches as it curves beautifully—only for it to miss her mark by quarter-inch. “Oh no!”

“Accidental philanthropy…” he muses, indifferent to their loss. “That doesn’t sound half-bad.”

Sumire raises her eyebrows, skeptical. “Really?”

“I know that my past actions may have dictated our failure to some extent. That was my fault,” Akechi crosses his arms. “I won’t let it happen again.”

Maybe she was too forgiving, or too trusting, or maybe it’s the closest she’ll get as an apology out of Akechi, but she finds herself nodding. “That’s all I wanted.”

He moves to put on his coat. “Was it to your satisfaction?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve wanted to talk even before we discovered Maruki’s schemes,” he shoves his arms through his coat sleeves. “Are you satisfied”

“Pretty much,” Sumire nods. “I understand you much better than before, at least.”

Collecting his darts, he heads to the register. “Why do you want to understand?”

“…Because I’m curious. You changed so abruptly, I didn’t even know who you were anymore—not that I did to begin with. Not to mention, the people Kurusu-senpai knows are always interesting, and you’re definitely not an exception.”

Akechi turns, and from the doubt on his features, he doesn’t take the bait.

“Fine. That wasn’t a lie, though. I just…” she hesitates, and decides to throw caution to the wind. “I want to get to know my teammate better.”

Anything could’ve happened in that beat of silence, much to the ignorance of the loitering patrons.

“See,” he replies. “Now that I can believe. And here I thought I was the only one who needed to practice honesty more.”

He walks back to register. “I’ll handle the bill. Call it a repaying of debts, in a way.”

“For what?”

“That’s what teammates do, don’t they?”

Sumire feels herself smile widely. It had only taken about six days, their entire reality shifting, and a busted game of darts, but it finally feels like she and Akechi are fighting the same battle.

—

AG: If it all goes to plan, we should’ve at least been able to convince one of them AG: As much as it truly pains me to say it, putting our faith in them is our best chance at success. AG: Worse comes to worst, there’s a reason why we’re making him the last one to convince. He’s our trump card. YS: you mean sakamoto-senpai? AG: Ugh, don’t make me say it.

According to Akechi’s knowledge of Ryuji’s whereabouts (as unhappy as he was to recite it), there are two places that he frequents—the arcade in Shibuya or loitering around Shujin.

The arcade was full of random teens and pre-teens, all deeply invested in games that Sumire had never taken up but Akechi was apparently knowledgeable in (“Good practice,” he had replied when she asked, and she opted not to pry any further).

The two had hopped back on the train to Aoyama-Itchome, forced to stand as life resumes back to normalcy post-holidays. Despite the tight fit of the car, Akechi had placed a good amount of space between them—whether it’s for his sake or hers, she can appreciate the gesture.

The morning was a strange one. Ever since their darts game and impromptu heart-to-heart, the atmosphere between them had shifted. It’s still a few miles off from being friendly, but it’s easier now; there’s an unspoken understanding between them, a common goal that drives them forward.

Still, it would’ve been nice if they had gotten their act together prior to meeting with their last Phantom Thief.

“By the way,” Akechi says, and Sumire’s eyes flicker up at him in interest. They had been silent since they stepped on the train. “In the acknowledgement of…team spirit,” his lips curled, unable to keep the mocking out of his words at such a ridiculous concept. “I should let you know that I’ve spoken to Sakamoto.”

“Oh.” She can’t seem to muster up any shock. “When? Did you plan it?”

“A few days ago, and no, it was by chance,” his eyes narrowed. “Did you speak to Sakamoto?”

“Not on purpose!” Sumire defends, shifting her sweaty grip on the plastic handle. “He just happened to be there.”

“He seems to have a knack for that,” Akechi says, and Sumire doesn’t comment on the strange quality of his voice—bitterness? “Well? Anything worth repeating?”

“Uh…” she racks her brain. Somehow, she doesn’t think that Ryuji’s blow by blow of the new shounen manga was what Akechi’s looking for. “Nothing in particular. Oh! He spoke quite a bit about Kurusu-senpai, but that’s not too surprising, considering his wish and all.” ‘Quite a bit’ might be a bit of an understatement.

He squints at her. “Whose wish?”

“Kurusu-senpai’s? Obviously Sakamoto-senpai would still be affected since he’s directly tied Kurusu-senpai’s wish.”

His stare doesn’t relent. “Why on earth would Kurusu’s wish still be affecting Sakamoto? He already broke free of the fake reality, meaning that Sakamoto isn’t affected by Kurusu’s wish,” says Akechi. “The idiot has his own wish. Did you not know?”

Sumire would describe herself as a person with a decent amount of pride, but an obvious fact like that has heat rushing to her cheeks. She ignores him and instead asks, “Did you figure out his real wish?”

“On a technicality, no. Though I have a rather strong hunch on what it is, based on my interaction with him,” he cringes a bit when the train rocks someone into him. “It’s likely that his wish may be the exact as Kurusu’s.”

“As in…” she blinks. “He wished to be with senpai?”

“It’s possible. Disgusting, how desperate they are to bring something to fruition that could easily be done without the Metaverse.” And he adds, “Your conclusion wasn’t too far off.”

“Wow,” as articulate as it was, it was really all she could say about his observation. It sounds like an impossibility; having two people wish for each other, like some cheesy rom-com but with way more monsters and magic. Yet it makes sense—the way Ryuji spoke of Akira like he put up the moon, with a feeling of undeniable admiration and respect sandwiched between friendly jabs at him. It sounds like an impossibility, she realizes, because it probably is one. It would take something as insane as the Metaverse to create something as equally improbable as their level of requited love.

The speaker overhead announces their station and they both exit with no small amount of polite shoving.

It’s a short walk from Aoyama to the school, a route familiar enough to Sumire that she can probably traverse it with her eyes closed.

“Do you know where in Shujin he might be?” Akechi asks, and belatedly she realizes she hasn’t given him any indication for where to go. Not that it was a problem—for someone who doesn’t go here, he seems to know the path just as well as she does. “Is the school even open?”

“It should be fine,” Sumire says. “The grounds, maybe? Actually, the track is probably our best shot, since he goes for a run pretty often.”

A beat passes.

“How often?” he asks slowly.

“Um—” she spots a familiar patch of bleached hair. “Look, there he is! It looks like he’s talking to…is that the track team?”

Akechi hums. “Is it, now?”

“Pipe down, dumbass!” Even half a block down, Ryuji’s voice rings loud and clear. “I’m only tryin’ my best so you guys don’t laugh me—oh, no effin’ way. Yoshizawa! Akechi! Sorry, gimme a sec,” he calls back to the others as he half-jogs towards them.

“I knew it,” Akechi mutters.

“Huh?” she asks.

“His leg. He isn’t limping.”

Sumire’s brow creases. She’s about to ask Akechi to clarify when it dawns on her:

Kamoshida had explained to her (in full, descriptive, unhesitating detail) about the delinquent students that roamed the walls of Shujin, there was one in particular he had a special hatred for—Sakamoto Ryuji. Rumors had done little to reveal the truth of his declaration, but a single conversation with Ryuji had cleared away any possibility that he was the type for unnecessary violence.

However, there is one truth that came from every lie that was spread about him; his leg has been damaged to the point where professional running is no longer a possibility.

Ryuji approaches them, smiling and limp-free.

Which means—

“What’s up?” he asks. Just like when Sumire saw him before, Ryuji is donned in the standard school P.E track pants (red and white and cuffed at the bottom). It didn’t mean much to her then. “Whatcha doin’ here, Akechi? You transferring schools, or something?”

In all of ten seconds, Ryuji had proved them wrong without even knowing it.

“I was here to pick up a few books from the library when I bumped into him,” she lies for the both of them. “And you, senpai?”

Ryuji takes a step back, shocked. “Damn! You’re makin’ the rest of us look bad. Nah, the track guys just forced me to hangout with them to celebrate.”

“Celebrate?”

“Yeah, uh,” sneakers scuffing the concrete, Ryuji turns a light shade of pink when he admits, “The school might’ve let slip that there’s some colleges that might be scouting after me after my last meet.”

Even Akechi looked a little impressed. “That’s no small feat.”

“That’s incredible, senpai!” Sumire cries, unable to hold herself back. “That’s—that’s huge! Bigger than huge, it’s being scouted! Do you know how cool that is? Of course you do, you’re the one who got scouted!”

She throws both her hands up to the sky and Ryuji slaps them, the pleasant echo resounds through the alley and leaves them both shaking out their palms.

“Thanks,” Ryuji grins. “But don’t get too excited. It ain’t confirmed or anything,” he tries to keep the elation out of his voice and fails miserably. “I’m just so dang happy cause that means things’ll be easier for my mom down the line, y’know?”

It’s like a slap to the face, a jolt that sends her crash landing back to reality. Because she isn’t here to congratulate Ryuji for his success—she’s here to take that away from him. Not for the first time, she wonders if they should be doing this.

Then she recalls the painful but relieving feeling of getting her own memories back. Yoshizawa Sumire back. She recalls the boy beside her who’d do quite literally anything to get rid of this reality. She recalls a busy street, blood pooling on the concrete.

Sumire focuses. If not for herself, or for Akechi, then she’d focus for Kasumi.

“I’m happy for you,” she says, meaning every word. “How did Kurusu-senpai react?”

“Oh, that guy? I haven’t told him yet, so let’s keep it between us, y’know what I’m sayin’?” Ryuji goes for a wink, though it’s definitely closer to a blink.

Akechi coughs. “Is there a reason you haven’t told him yet? You both are quite…close, after all.”

“He’s been tough to contact the past week,” Ryuji shrugs, and neither of them mention that working with a Palace ruler probably consumes a good chunk of one’s leisure time. “I really wanna surprise him, though! Considering that he supported me more than anyone when it comes to track.”

“That’s kind of him,” says Akechi.

“Well, yeah. Both of us had to deal with Kamoshida toge…ther…” he seemed to listen to what he was saying, and stops abruptly. Any excitement that was on his face is wiped clean. Finally.

“How did you deal with Kamoshida together?” Akechi asks slowly. They had to be careful—this is their last shot.

“It, uh,” he purses his lips. “It was an accident at first, I think. Didn’t mean to.” Eyes sliding shut, he mutters, mostly to himself. “It was raining, I remember that. So why can’t I…?”

The two of them lean forward unconsciously as they gauge Ryuji’s reaction.

“You’ve got this, Sakamoto-senpai,” Sumire prompts gently.

It isn’t too different from watching someone do a math problem and seeing them do one, tiny thing wrong; seeing that tiny mistake being overlooked, even though it’s so obvious to the observer. He is so close, one breath away from—

“Sakamoto!”

Ryuji jerks, eyes flinging open and her heart sinks, irritation blossoming towards this random athlete who unknowingly jeopardized their known reality.

“Uh, yeah!” he calls back, shaking his head as if ridding himself of a bad dream. “Be there in a sec!”

“If that pesky runner is in Mementos, I swear he’ll be dead by tomorrow,” Akechi mummers darkly, because he always takes things too far.

“Sorry, gotta bail,” Ryuji apologizes. He still looks slightly unsettled, a little unnerved. “It was good to see you. We should grab some food sometime!”

“Wait!” Sumire blurts out before he can leave. She scrambles for something to say, finding the thought of their failure unbearable. “If—if you change your mind (or start to remember), we’ll both be in Odaiba tomorrow! At the stadium, to be exact,” she tries for a reassuring smile. “You were there in the summer, remember?”

“If I change my mind…?” he repeats, blinking. “Nah, you guys are wild. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but thanks for the invite. Later!”

He throws double peace signs up before joining his track mates once more, laughing and shoving each other in a way only teenage boys can pull off.

“An outstanding zero to seven loss,” Akechi dictates with a dead voice. “What a team we make. I’m floored.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice!” Sumire exclaims, slapping her hand to her forehead. “I literally saw him running, and I didn’t put the pieces together.”

He shakes his head. “How are you focusing on his wish?” Akechi asks, leaning against the stone pillar near him. “It doesn’t matter what his wish is. The point is, we lost. We wasted this week, and we don’t have a choice other than to confront Kurusu alone.”

“You forgot about the whole point of our plan, Akechi. Just because his friends didn’t realize the truth right away, doesn’t mean they won’t.”

“They probably won’t.”

“We’ll just have to see, then. If Kurusu-senpai has one talent, it’s his natural…thing, with people. You get what I mean, right?”

“No.”

“Liar. And hey!” Sumire gives him a pointed look. “You aren’t doing this alone! We’re working together—like two peas in a pod.”

“Yes, I haven’t forgotten our oath of team spirit. But still, that doesn’t change the fact that with the combined powers of Maruki and Kurusu, we’re as good as dead,” he says, and pauses. “Unless Maruki isn’t there.”

Sumire frowns, “Even if we could, I don’t think we should kidnap a doctor.”

“I meant that he might willingly not be there. He’s quite democratic and trusting—I can see that he might leave this in Kurusu’s hands. Don’t be fooled, though. If Kurusu wanted us gone, we probably would be.”

“I can’t imagine that he would ever do something like that.” The idea of Akira using his powers in that way… she doesn’t even want to indulge in the thought.

“He won’t,” Akechi agrees. “He never shoots to kill when it comes to real people,” he sighs. “A weakness on his part.”

“But you’re still saying that we should fight senpai. Fight Kurusu Akira.”

“I’m saying we should beat some sense into him. Convince him like we tried to convince all of his little gremlins, except we succeed this time around,” his face pinches together, as if he had something sour. “It’s not as if we have a choice.”

She hesitates, despite knowing that Akechi’s right. He scoffs at her. “Worried about scratching up the pretty boy? Trust me—we couldn’t finish him off even if we tried.”

It’s a little worrying to see how sure he is that Akira is apparently very difficult to murder. “Fine,” Sumire relents. “But I’m still going to hope for the best with his friends.”

“Then I’ll prepare for the worst, as per usual.”

A water droplet hits Sumire’s cheek, startling her. She looks up to be greeted by dark clouds.

“It’s raining.”

“I suppose we should rest for today, considering what we’re up against.”

“Hold on,” Sumire says, feeling bold. “The Metaverse—I’m still a little unsure about all that but bear with me—is about the strength of the heart and cognition, right?”

“Yes?” he nods at her in a go on manner.

“So, hypothetically, if we got some…cognition strengthening breakfast food together—”

“No.”

“I think it would be beneficial to us!” she says. It really did seem like a good idea when she first thought it up, but she really should’ve expected the resistance that comes with it; Akechi seems to hate the notion of fun. “The way you looked at my plate from back then is still stuck in by brain on loop—”

“That look is called disgust—”

“It would be really fun! Or um, not fun, but advantageous to the strength of our—our Personas?”

She’s grasping at straws, but optimism is one of her better traits. Still, Akechi’s withering glare is proving to be a tough foe. Sumire’s not going to back down, though. Whether she wanted it to happen or not, she finds herself liking his company more and more despite his thorns (many, many thorns).

Sumire couldn’t help but break out into a grin when Akechi speaks, voice void of any emotion:

“I’m picking this time. IHOP is an abomination.”

—

She didn’t think that hole-in-the-wall breakfast cafes existed, and if she did, she most definitely never would’ve guessed that Akechi would be leading her to one.

Laughing out loud at the situation would grant her a death wish through Loki, but it’s impossible not to. The light pastel shades of the cafe are comically paradoxical to Akechi’s eternal conniving expression and tone, yet the employees seem to light up when he enters and even greet him by name.

He orders without even looking at the menu and she decides to get two of whatever he’s getting; partly because she has no idea what to get, mostly out of curiosity.

They seat themselves in one of the frilly booths and once the food arrives, she has to physically stop herself from drooling.The three tall stacks of pancakes were steaming, thick, fluffy, and perfectly golden brown. The neapolitan ice cream was placed precariously on top, slowly melting and all completely drizzled in chocolate and strawberry syrup. Akechi almost looks like he wants to tell her that it physically isn’t possible to fit both stacks inside of her, but she’s already halfway through her first stack by the time he eats a forkful.

Unable to hold back, Sumire brings up his comment from back when they all went to the Kichijoji cafe with Akira.

“Oh, that?” Akechi reaches over to grab the syrup bottle. “I said I didn’t like sweet bread. Sweets are, in and of itself,” he pours an alarming amount of strawberry syrup on his plate. “Not bad.”

The conversation is light—none of the darker topics that were present during their darts game. Sumire hesitatingly asks him what it’s like to work with the police as a detective. She wasn’t expecting a detailed point-by-point explanation about the cops being the most ‘incompetent people who have ever wielded any amount of power, and yes I’m counting Mona in his normal cat form.’

In turn, Akechi seems genuinely interested in Sumire’s athletic career, wondering if her skills help her fight in the Metaverse.

Eventually, they even start talking about more mundane topics; clubs that they might have been participating in (“Gymnastics, obviously” and “Detective work if that counts, but not so much anymore”), what Akechi’s high school is like (“Boring, but I get excused often enough that it makes it bearable”), if they’re on social media much (“Yes! But my smartphone can barely open up any apps” and “I have a phone number and an email—that should be enough”).

Despite Akechi’s ever-present clipped comments, Sumire has to admit that this was all a nice change of pace. She’s having fun, sitting here, eating pancakes and talking. And if his replies were getting less snippy and more talky, maybe he’s feeling the same way.

Even if it’s only for an afternoon, even if they have to fight their counselor who now apparently controls reality, even if they have to fight Kurusu Akira—

It’s nice to just act like two teenagers with a sweet tooth for a day.

—

It’s just as cold as it was a week ago.

They’ve already been transformed into their Metaverse customers, and it’s blessedly warmer near the elevator than it is on the outskirts. None of that matters though; not with them standing in front of Maruki’s Palace once again.

“It has a certain beauty,” Sumire comments. “The Palace.”

“It’s a safety hazard, is what it is. Realistically, these would all crumble like tissue paper without Maruki holding it all up.”

“Still,” the abnormal swirls and teetering light fixtures possess a charm that she finds lovely in it’s own way. “I can admire it for what it is.”

Akechi nods at the elevator, “Let’s get this over with.”

“Wait.”

He stops. “What?”

“Kurusu-senpai gave sort of a battle plan before we went in,” Sumire reminded him. “Do you have one?”

“Hit him harder than he hits you,” Akechi pulls out his serrated steel, reflecting the light of the entrance hall. “Other than that, don’t die, and don’t fall behind.”

All things considered, it isn’t the worst pep talk she’s ever heard.

They start off to the depths of the Palace. The journey to see Akira is different without him present, but it’s as if the shadows are purposefully less aggressive with them—whether it’s because Maruki wants them to get there safely or what, but it lets them traverse through the lab with a fair amount of ease.

An announcement rings through the grand halls. “VIP patients identified. We will now begin the grand tour—please head to the auditorium through the door on your left.”

Definitely Maruki, then.

“How kind of them to politely inform us of their location,” Akechi remarks, and they head further inward.

They pass by what looks like research centres—powerpoints plastered by pie charts and numbers, shadows giving lectures on cognition (which is a strange sight to see), brain scan posters and lab coats strewn about. Sumire imagines that this might be what a university would look like in amidst of organized chaos.

Turning the corner, a double-door awaits them.

“Alright,” Sumire steels herself, hand finding her rapier’s hilt. “I hope senpai’s ready for us.”

“Trust me,” he reaches out to grab the handle. “He will be.”

A hallway meets them when they pass through. A long, white staircase elegantly leads them down and into what looks like a small version of a football stadium—seats filled up with faceless shadows and unlit theatre lights are hung from the beams above. Maybe it’s because this area has an uncanny resemblance to her competition venues, but she feels a tingle run down her spine: the feeling of anticipation.

They walk to the centre of it with caution, footsteps slow yet it resounding out all the same. She glances forward, squinting slightly against the darkness; a set of stairs that lead atop a stage are laid out in front of them, carpeted and plush. Ready for a performance.

Suddenly, all the lights flash on, white fluorescence blaring down on them mercilessly. Sumire and Akechi cringe against the unrelenting assault on their corneas.

“Welcome back.”

On top of the steps stood Akira, cloaked in his black Phantom Thief garb and drenched in blinding lights.

“I’m glad you two seem to be doing good. Honestly, I was a little nervous at first,” he descends the staircase, unhurried, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Looks like I was worried for nothing.”

“Worried? About us?” Akechi levels him with an incredulous look. “We aren’t the ones who are actively advocating the side of brainwashing.”

“I’m advocating the side of my friends being happy again,” he corrects firmly, turning to make eye contact with Sumire. “I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me that they weren’t happy, that they weren’t over the moon with euphoria. If you can tell me that, then I’ll join you in the fight against Maruki.”

Gazing into Akira’s eyes, Sumire opens her mouth, before looking away.

“That’s what I expected,” he shrugs, “It’s nice seeing them happy, right? But I’m not stupid—that won’t stop you two. You’re nearly as stubborn as I am.”

“Senpai,” she pleads. “I don’t want to fight you.”

“Neither do I. But you need to get Maruki to revert reality back to what it was,” Akira adjusts his gloves, and they both tense. “And to get to him, you have to get through me.”

“He’s really not backing down, isn’t he?” she mutters, her heart rate picking up rapidly.

Akechi snarls. “The tide sooner stop washing up before he quits being a fucking idiot.”

“You guys ready?” Akira calls. His tone is light, but there’s an undeniable glint to his eyes, similar to how the edge of a knife reflects light, and spreads his arms out. “Give it all you’ve got.”

Sumire meets Akechi’s eyes, and they nod.

They had a strategy, as loose as it was; there’s strength in numbers, and for once they have the advantage—pin him down, corner him, whatever they can manage, and incapacitate him until he listens to what they have to say. While this plan would certainly be more effective with more people, two should be enough to get the job done.

The air whistles around them as they dart forward, masks burning blue.

“Give him hell, Loki!”

The monochrome trickster bursts from the cinders with its eyes dead set on Akira. He raises a heavy hand and brings down his blade, slamming into the flooring as if it was warm butter, but Akira was already gone—he had hopped away just in time, giving them a cocky little smile.

Akechi snarled and swung again, only for Akira to bend backwards as if he’s in the most crucial game of limbo in recorded history, Laevatein missing him by an inch.

Before he can straighten himself again, Sumire shouts, “Dance, Cendrillon!”

As if the bells of midnight were calling her, a woman of glass and elegance manifests, white cloak blowing back from an unknown wind. A burst of light shoots from her crystal form but Akira had expected it, turning his bend into a backwards roll, not even trying to hide his grin. She’s starting to think that he was lying to her when he said he had no history with gymnastics. Maybe once this is all done, she could introduce him to her coach.

This back and forth continues, black and white and red all clashing together without anyone finding a target at all—that is, if Akira even had a target to begin with.

It’s as maddening as it is impressive to see him dodge and parry every attack; a hop here, a tilt there. It’s almost as if he knows what they were going to do before they even did it. It’s glaringly obvious why, yet it was another simple fact they overlooked—he was their leader, the person who made sure they had two, three, four possible strategies in their back pocket going into every fight. If not to ensure victory, then he does it to make sure that each and every one of them were capable enough to keep themselves safe.

But that just makes it all the more impossible to gain the upper hand.

By the time Akira had traversed nearly half the stadium in his evasion, not a hair out of place and unperturbed, Akechi and Sumire were breathing hard.

“He has,” Sumire gasps between breaths. “No intention of hitting us.”

“Dammit,” he hisses. “He’s turning this into a stamina battle.”

“Did you guys think I’d attack?” Akira frowns. Squinting at Sumire, he rummages through his pockets and tosses something to her. She catches it on instinct and peers down at the bottle of Arginade in her hand.

“It isn’t much, but I don’t want you hurting yourselves over this. I’d, uh, give one to Akechi too, but I think he’d throw it at my head or something.”

“Thank you,” Sumire sets the bottle down gingerly. “But I don’t think I should.”

“Suit yourself.”

“He’s wasting our time,” says Akechi. He points his steel at the corridor behind Akira. “Let’s just move past and find Maruki ourselves.”

She nods and they take a step forward before—

“Come, Black Frost.”

A flash of blue and a split second is all it took for the hallway’s entrance to be completely concealed in thick ice. “If you do that though, we’re gonna have a problem.”

“That wall won’t be enough to stop Cendrillon, senpai.”

“Probably not,” Akira agrees, gloved hand touching an invisible mask. “But a week was a lot of time to mix up some Personas.”

The implication makes Sumire swallow—Akechi wasn’t exaggerating.

“We have to stop him here,” she says quietly. “Even if we got lucky and ran, there’s no way we can reach Dr. Maruki with senpai trying to catch us.

Akechi clicks his tongue. “Unfortunately. We can’t win against him in a battle of stamina, but if we move fast and hit hard enough, we can catch him off guard.” His eyes flicker at Akira watching them speak, posture relaxed. “I’ve never had to reserve energy in a fight much, so this is the best plan with what we have.”

“Got it.”

“Don’t hold back,” Akechi huffs the same time Sumire says, “Don’t kill him.”

And then they sprint forward, rapidly closing in the distance to Akira.

Akechi meets her look before they split off wordlessly, approaching their target from either side.

“Hit him hard, Loki!”

“Aid me, Cendrillon!”

Curse and bless, dark and light come at Akira like a hand of judgement, narrowly escaping by flipping backwards with one hand and throwing out the other. “Let’s go, Yoshitsune.”

And like a scene from a classic Japanese period tale, a swordsman emerges from the embers, dual-wielding Katanas in either hand. WIth an air of divinity, he slices sideways, forcing the two to jerk away.

Perhaps it’s the effect of the Metaverse, its link to cognition, but the use of words became futile beyond the calling of their Personas—she can judge what Akechi had in mind without language just as he can support her in her strikes, where to stand so they don’t get caught in each other’s crossfire.

Sumire pulls out her rapier and swipes at Akira’s torso but it’s too slow; he shifts out of the way and again to dodge Akechi’s bullets like a true Phantom Thief—as elusive and hard to catch as mist.

“You’re pulling your punches, Yoshizawa!” Akechi shouts.

“I’m not trying to kill him!” Cendrillon moves her own weapon impossibly quick, glowing lines appearing midair like a child drawing on paper, and it all bursts in unison—slicing through everything indiscriminately, yet Akira remains untouched.

“Give me some credit,” he calls, coattail swishing stylishly. “I don’t think I’m doing too bad.” Yoshitsune dashes forward, armor glinting and steel sparking as lightning shoots from his katanas, several inches to Sumire’s right. It leaves her hair filled to the brim with static.

Exhausting as their back and forth was, Akira hadn’t once attacked them directly. Even when they roll or sidestep, every movement is accounted for and he adjusts his blows in turn—close enough for them to stagger back from him, but never enough for them to be touched. The message was clear: I’d never hurt you, but there’s no chance in hell I’m letting you win, either.

Still, Sumire wipes her glistening temple as Loki brings down his blade where Akira was and into the ground, the collision forceful enough to make the stage lights above rattle. It’s beginning to be clear that it would be near impossible to maintain Akira’s pin-point accuracy, given his lack of compromise on it. His rolls are getting lethargic, backflips half-assed; whether he knew it or not, he’s beginning to slow down.

And Akechi is starting to get desperate.

Precise swings from before are losing control, wild ones taking place instead.

Akira reaches up once more. “Lend me a hand, Metatron.”

What looks like an archangel crafted during the industrial revolution bursts forth where Yoshitsune once stood, eyes filled with divinity and judgement as he launches a small army of rainbow, psychokinetic spheres around Akechi’s vicinity, but fatigue causes a slight miscalculation—one of the pink orbs barely grazes his brown hair, causing him to flinch back from shock.

It didn’t hurt, it couldn’t have hurt, but it’s the first hit the Akira had landed all day, accidental or otherwise.

A beat passes as they both freeze, and Sumire slows when she sees the expression on Akira’s face, unobstructed by his mask; all the bravado, the cockiness and boldness is gone like it was never there. In its place, a gaunt, horrified look.

“I…” he breathes, unnaturally pale. “Shit, I’m sorry. Here, just…” he starts rummaging through his pockets, hands shaking. “I know I have a bead in here somewhere, just let me—” Akira’s voice cracks. “Dammit, of course I can’t find it when I actually—why can’t I—”

Akechi takes an uneasy step backwards, overexertion threatening to take over. As if it weighs a hundred pounds, he raises an arm, red eyes disturbingly bright and dead-set on Akira.

Sumire feels her breath catch in her throat; she’s in a clear position to see it happen. Akira is still frantically looking through his stuff, an overwhelming guilt seeming to cloud his senses. Akechi, in his state of mind and body, is refusing to see the facts in favor of following his instincts—because even now, he still truly believes that Akira will remain untouched, no matter what.

Because, to Akechi, he is Kurusu Akira.

“Come, Loki!”

“Goro, wait!” Sumire cries.

Time slows down as Loki raises his blade, serrated steel exuding a curse potent enough to bring down any archangel to its knees several times over. And Akira looks up, eyes wide and dilated, but it’s too late to do anything other than take a deep breath and tense himself for the devastating blow—

Footsteps resound behind them, light and fast, and before Sumire can even turn around, a familiar voice yells out:

“I don’t fucking think so.”

Sakamoto Ryuji sprints past her and as Loki brings down his sword, stands directly in front of Akira, arms wide and acting like a barricade between him and the rest of the world.

[artificialqueens]

Chamomiles, Chrysanthemums, and Everything In Between [Gigi x Nicky] - ChaosKatya

summary: In which Gigi’s a florist, and she’d like to think she usually has a pretty good head on her shoulders. That is until a new tattoo artist starts shifts in the studio opposite and well, now Gigi’s not quite sure what’s going on with herself anymore. Everyone else seems to know, but Gigi sure doesn’t.

a/n: first full chapter ive ever posted! again, let me know what you think @chaoskatya <3

“Gigi… Earth to Miss Goode? Gigi. GIGI!”

Jaida claps loud, startling Gigi from her trance. Bolting up from where she was leaning on the counter, she turns so quickly to face her coworker she nearly knocks her iced coffee flying. She stumbles for it, saving it from tipping over, smiling sweet like nothing happened.

“Yes, Miss Hall?”

Jaida laughs softly. “Do not Miss Hall me. Girl I was talking to you for a hot minute before I realized no one was home up in that pretty head of yours.”

“Rude. I was nodding and everything?”

“Uh huh. And what was I talking about?” Jaida props her hand on her hip, waiting for an answer.

Gigi wracks her brain, and comes up empty. She at least tries to smile to make up for it. “Uhh, the schedule for the succulent shipment arriving tomorrow?”

Jaida laughs, loud and brief. “Ha! Nice try. Wrong.” She swipes for Gigi’s drink, taking a hearty sip to cement her new ownership.

“Hey–!” Gigi tries to protest, attempting to grab for it but Jaida just holds up a perfectly manicured nail at her.

“Nu uh. You don’t deserve this. ‘Sides, it was totally half melted from how long you were spacing out there. What’s on your mind, girl?”

“Nothing! I’m just. Distracted, that’s all,” Gigi sighs, and can’t help but flicker her eyes out towards Wallflower’s storefront.

Jaida doesn’t miss it. She follows Gigi’s eyes out the window, and raises her eyebrows in understanding. “Mmhm… I’m sure you are,” she smirks and walks away, sipping Gigi’s coffee loudly for punctuation, “Make sure you finish your orders for pickup today before you chase your french fantasy, ma cheri.”

Gigi opens her mouth to argue, then just makes a frustrated noise in defeat. Jaida’s not wrong, she just hates how obvious it’s become. It’s been getting worse, now only 10 am and her head’s already in the clouds and she has yet to actually start working on any of the arrangements she’d meant to have started almost an hour ago. Tying her long hair out of her eyes, she stands at her work station for a good while, staring at the order forms handed to her this morning. All small individual orders, mostly early Valentine’s arrangements for folks looking to beat the inevitable price hike or gifting early to work around prior plans, or some highschoolers probably asking people out to prom since the season’s coming up. Relatively simple and easy for Gigi’s skill, but she still can’t get herself to focus. When nothing comes to her, probably from the lack of coffee, she decides not to linger and gets up to check on the displays.

She goes over a checklist in her head for things she could do that’s still considered productive but isn’t at her actual arrangement station. She checks soil moisture in the succulents, watering the drier ones, prunes some of their smaller flowering shrubs that are getting a little bushy, and double checks the temperatures on the floral coolers.

She’s wiping down the leaves on a large monstera in the houseplant section when she smacks herself on the forehead, realizing she’s subconsciously navigated herself towards the front of the store and is now conveniently right beside the front window. Still, she can’t help herself, and tries to peer across the pedestrian street in hopes that at least seeing her today will temporarily get her out of her system.

It’s been a week since Harmonize, the tattoo studio across Wallflower, had filled in their vacancy and signed on their newest artist. The two stores are fairly friendly, when Gigi was hired over a year ago the owner Widow had brought over fresh baked bread to introduce herself, and it was one of their artists Crystal whom Gigi chose to ink the small piece on her rib. In fact, the two grew pretty close and she’s hung out with Crystal as many times as she’s hung out with Jaida who’s her actual coworker, the three of them often grabbing lunch or a drink together if time permits. It was her understanding that even before Gigi had joined the team, all the stores on their little promenade area were relatively familiar with each other. It was a small shopping district, all pedestrian walkways and local establishments, not fairly common anymore with the rise of larger malls. This meant the stores often knew and supported each other for solidarity, and that it wasn’t odd for people from other stores to pop in and introduce themselves.

That being said, it’s been a week since the new girl had started shifts and Gigi still hasn’t worked up the courage to talk to her. She’s only caught glimpses of her, either walking out with Crystal after locking up or stepping out in the middle of the day for a smoke break. Gigi knew of them needing a replacement after Dahlia had moved coasts, but she remembers how when actually seeing her in person for the first time her breath completely hitched in her throat and she had to run to the break room to hide for a bit.

Luckily for Gigi, unluckily for her work still left unattended, the walkways meant not a considerable distance between the two storefronts and she’s immediately able to catch a glimpse of the mystery girl inside leaning against the front desk. She can visibly see her short, slicked back platinum hair looking as pristine as always, and today she’s got on a red lip that looks so, so good. She barely knows anything about her, doesn’t even know her name, but by god would it be a lie to say she isn’t pretty enamoured.

Crystal’s obviously her coworker, but no amount of pleading texts will yield her any information. Jaida’s spoken to her already on her own but also refuses to tell Gigi anything, apparently because she thinks Gigi’s refusal to go alone is funny, other than that she’s French and hotter up close and that her accent was “delicious” which was incredibly not helpful. Gigi contemplates how this accent might sound when instead it’s her boss’s voice that suddenly appears next to her.

“She is pretty hot. I think I have a crush on her too.” Jackie says plainly into Gigi’s ear.

Gigi yelps and jumps again for the second time this morning, this time a lot more embarrassed thanks to being caught by her boss not only clearly slacking off but openly staring at the store opposite. And that she can’t even cover up Jackie knowing exactly why she was staring.

Jackie just laughs good naturedly and shoves an iced coffee into Gigi’s hands, holding another two against her chest.

“I was on the way when Jaida texted me saying she drank yours and to pick you up another one, so I got some for all of us. Something about you needing the caffeine, and I can see why,” she looks out the window to Harmonize, then back at Gigi, “finish those orders first, yeah?” She smiles knowingly at the younger girl, then heads to the back room where Jaida is probably counting stock.

Jesus christ, she was too preoccupied with her own thoughts she didn’t even hear Jackie come in. Their door has a fucking bell and she was standing right beside the front window. Well, nothing like a mountain of work and some fresh iced coffee to shake off a morning of embarrassment.

All things considered, Gigi loves her job. It’s something sacred to her, something guaranteed to ground her, soothing her senses and pulling her into a focused zone like nothing else. She loves the feeling of stems in her hands, watching an empty vase or paper wrap build into a living work of art that tells a story. She was never that big on plants as a whole, Jaida and Jackie tend to cover the succulent houseplant and herb territory better than she ever could, but she’s always had a soft spot for the flowers. She’s built up her craft and made a niche for herself in Wallflower very quickly, there’s nothing more enticing to her than mixing and matching colors, textures, shapes and sizes until her perfectionist ass is satisfied with the outcome. She always jokes that none of her work comes out short of instagram perfect, well worth more than just their price. She’s even taken to studying up on old flower meanings in her spare time, and while she thought they were silly at first she did grow a little attached to the convolutedness and intricacy that goes into working meanings into her arrangements.

She’s got a couple of standard bouquets up first- Wallflower provides a ‘cheat sheet’ of pre-determined arrangements for customers not particularly picky or familiar with what goes into their bouquets. She holds a sunflower in the center of the vase to build upon, surrounding it with a smattering of simple pink and red roses. She fills the shape with baby’s breath and green heather for texture, before filling whatever gaps are left with myrtle sprigs for more greenery.

She goes over the meanings in her head while she ties off and trims the stems and decoratively wraps the arrangement in delicate, pink paper and clear cellophane- adoration, happiness, love, innocence, admiration, love. It’s incredible to her how many flowers basically mean the same thing, but she supposes it’s hard to offer something as beautiful as a flower and not convey some form of affection.

She’s a couple of arrangements in before her phone buzzes in her back pocket, pulling her out of her groove. She wipes her hands down her apron and pulls it out to see a groupchat message from Crystal.

Clown Whore 🤡👅 just got off a client but LMFAO totally saw u staring @ N u aint slick @Gigi Goode

Gigi can’t help but widen her eyes a little and type her reply back a little frantic.

Goode, Gooder, Goodenest Gracious! 🌼 her name starts with N????? Nina? Natalie? Naomi? is Naomi french enough to count as a valid guess?

Clown Whore 🤡👅 LOL u know we aint tellin u its been a week. JUST TALK TO HER U DUMB ASS LESBIAN

Goode, Gooder, Goodenest Gracious! 🌼 :( ya’ll are mean. why are you my friends. Michelle’s for lunch? @Jaida @Crystal

shoulders & attitude (and not much else) 🌵🌵 lol im down

Clown Whore 🤡👅 breaks in 30. come to yall then :))

Gigi takes note of the time and puts her phone down sighing. She loves her friends with all her heart, but they’re also assholes whose favorite hobby is bullying poor Gigi especially when it comes to Gigi’s ability, or lack thereof, to deal with cute girls. Still, she wouldn’t trade the world for them (not that she would ever say that to their faces, she has some pride).

She continues her arrangements, hitting a snag on a particular one that for some reason requested a fairly large centerpiece, “all whites, minimal greenery- romantic but no roses” but at the same time “nothing too funeral-y or wedding-y”. She’s built and torn apart the arrangement around 6 times and is close to ripping her hair out when Jaida materializes in front of her station.

“You good, sis?” she laughs, picking up the order slip to examine herself.

Gigi looks around and realizes her station looks a hot mess, whites and greens strewn haphazardly everywhere. “Yes, you’re looking at my personal funeral. We good to go?”

“Yeah, ‘bout that. Crys texted that she’s gonna take a smoke for a bit and I’m gonna join her, is it alright if you go ahead? We’ll catch up, it’s all on me” Jaida says cheerily, handing Gigi her card.

Gigi raises her eyebrows in suspicion, idly wondering why Crystal didn’t just message their chat, but takes the card anyway. She’s not passing up free lunch. “Sure, the usual for everyone?”

“Yep, see ya in a bit, girl!” Jaida waves brightly, already on her way out the door.

Weird. But Gigi doesn’t think much of it.

The walk over to Michelle’s is short and uneventful, only being about 2 blocks away, but the small local joint is by far their favorite go-to. It’s arguably a diner, complete with the red leather booths and black and white tiled flooring to match, but it’s become a local staple in the district for being so much more than just a diner. They’ve got a wide variety of comfort foods of all types, plus it’s got halal options for Jackie and vegetarian ones for Crystal. Gigi walks in to the sound of the bell above the push glass door and is immediately greeted by not only the rich smells from the kitchen, but the owner Michelle at the counter. A matronly figure with a heart of gold, she’s made sure to know all of the district regulars by name and face and the girls at Harmonize and Wallflower are no exception. It’s a little past lunch rush, lots of people sitting at the booths and the counter but no one in line.

She greets Gigi as she enters and Gigi’s listing off the usuals for everyone, takeout for Widow and Jackie, when a husky voice pipes up from behind her.

“Oh, actually, Jaida said takeout for everyone. And an additional ceaser, s'il vous plaît.”

Gigi whips around, heart leaping out of her chest, and finds N smiling right behind her. Gigi stammers a bit, definitely fumbling for something to say, and tries her best to get her bearings. “Ohmigod, hi! Shit, hi! Gigi, from Wallflower,” she says quickly, nerves evident, “I haven’t met you yet! Oh my god, you’re N-?”

The blonde just laughs politely to cut her off, perhaps to save her from her fumbling. “Nicolette, but please call me Nicky. Crystal sent me over, says her and Jaida can’t make it and to bring everything back?” Nicky smiles wide, and her smile makes Gigi think her heart is stopping a little too many times today.

Gigi crumples a little in realization. Of course Jaida would offer to pay for everything, she wouldn’t bother unless it came alongside personally torturing Gigi for fun. Well, nevertheless, it’s not like Jaida can avoid payback. Gigi asks Michelle to upsize everyone’s drinks but Jaida and Crystal’s and adds an extra side of ice cream to her own. Michelle swipes Jaida’s card, hands Gigi her small cup of ice cream, then lets them know to sit at a booth while they fix up everyone’s orders.

Nicky and Gigi sit at the booth nearest the door, and Gigi’s glad for the cup of ice cream to keep her busy because her brain’s running in circles trying to think of something to say while also subtly trying to finally get a good look at her. As Nicky settles into the seat opposite, turning to lay her purse next to her, Gigi can’t help but eye some design on her arms before it’s covered once more by the long sleeves of her blouse. Her platinum blonde hair’s slicked back into a short length, now she realizes it goes a little past her chin, and her makeup is impeccable, sharp smokey eyes and red lips. She’s even more gorgeous up close, and it does absolutely nothing to settle Gigi’s nerves. Gigi’s hands fidget with her small plastic spoon, and she’s hyper aware of how she’s now looking anywhere but the girl sitting across her. Thankfully, Nicky leads the conversation.

“I am sorry it’s taken us so long to meet, I have been having a little bit of a hard time putting myself out there” she says with a drop to her voice, and Gigi instantly feels guilty.

“No, no it’s my fault! I should’ve gone over, I had the chance I’m just,” Gigi breathes when she realizes she’s sped up again, and Nicky’s looking right at her earnestly, “-pretty bad at meeting new people.” She drops Nicky’s gaze and rubs the back of her neck, staring directly down into her ice cream. She realizes she’s coming on very weirdly, and she feels very hot all of a sudden. Stupid Crystal, stupid Jaida, this is exactly why she can’t be trusted alone with a pretty girl. Either Nicky doesn’t realize or realize exactly, either way Gigi’s glad she doesn’t bring up how awkward Gigi’s acting.

“Well, no matter,” she interrupts Gigi’s thoughts with a smile, “I’m glad to have met you now. I heard you were the one who had done the arrangement Jackie brought me on my first day, thank you, it was quite beautiful.”

Gigi softens. “Oh, it was my pleasure! Again, I’m really sorry I hadn’t come along to meet you sooner.”

Nicky waves her off, “Please, stop apologizing, it’s alright, we were both busy. Let’s move forward now, yeah?” She smiles brightly again, and it eases Gigi’s heart in a way she could not explain, nor does she want to confront any time soon. But for now, this is nice.

Gigi smiles back and opens her mouth to respond, when Nicky’s phone suddenly rings from her purse. Nicky quickly swipes it out to check the screen.

“Oh, one moment, it’s a client, I’m so sorry” she says, standing up and stepping out of the booth. Gigi tells her no worries as Nicky steps out of the diner to take the call.

Gigi uses this opportunity to breathe, at the same time finishing her melting ice cream and checking her own phone. She’s got a string of messages, all from the culprits.

shoulders & attitude (and not much else) 🌵🌵 LOL

Clown Whore 🤡👅 GO GIGI!!!!!!

shoulders & attitude (and not much else) 🌵🌵 USE YOUR WORDS BOO ure killin it!!!

Clown Whore 🤡👅 what did we say about the accent? :))) plus isnt she so nice shes a whole ass sweetheart

shoulders & attitude (and not much else) 🌵🌵 omg ice cream u bitch k we deserve it

Clown Whore 🤡👅 oooo yall look like youre on a date already :))

shoulders & attitude (and not much else) 🌵🌵 wtf who callin? she got a man?

Goode, Gooder, Goodenest Gracious! 🌼 YO WTF FUCK YALL WHAT WAS THAT :((( WARN ME, ASSHOLES? I WASNT READY also are you here?? how do you know???

Clown Whore 🤡👅 michelle’s texting us LMAO

Gigi whips her head up to see Michelle at the counter across the diner, phone in hand, typing away. She meets Gigi’s eyes and sends her a wink, laughing mirthfully.

Goode, Gooder, Goodenest Gracious! 🌼 is my whole life snitches and traitors???

Clown Whore 🤡👅 💖💖

shoulders & attitude (and not much else) 🌵🌵 💛💛💛💛

At this point Michelle comes around to the table and carefully sets down the stacks of takeout containers bundled in two plastic bags, but not without patting Gigi on the back and whispering you got this darling. Gigi just groans in exasperation.

Clearly, everyone has it out for her in this life. But she decides that hey, maybe that’s not so bad. They’re her friends and her friends care and they bully her a little but that’s what friends are for. Care enough to call her out on her stupidity and force her to act. What exactly she’s acting on, she’s not quite sure, but things are certainly happening. And she’s finally met Nicky, who is intimidatingly gorgeous but also kind and nice and she’s happy for that. Sure, she’s extremely attractive, but part of her doesn’t even remember why she was so afraid to talk to her in the first place when her presence now seems to both scare and ease Gigi in a way she really can’t name. And while she may not really understand all that she’s feeling maybe, just maybe, that’s okay too.

Nicky steps back into the diner and turns back to Gigi, eyes bright and smile wide.

“Let’s get back to the shops?” she says cheerily, and sticks out her hand for Gigi to hold.

Gigi takes a deep breath, smiles, and takes it. “Yes, let’s.”

[alitheamateur]

Special Delivery

Warnings: Language, because well, Colton Ritter’s mouth.

Summary: Colton Ritter hates birthdays. Always has, and was determined he always would. His wife, however, cheeky with her newlywed bright ideas, makes it her mission to change his mind with a special birthday delivery.

A/N: I swear to you, the second part of The Grind-A Wedding is coming! But, sense it doesn't seem to be falling into place as quickly as I would like, I wanted to try and spread a little reward for my readers and their patience!

(gif not mine)

Colton Ritter was a bear about birthdays.

Was it the bitter swallow of becoming another year older? The fear that with age, would come the fizzle of his talents and abilities inside the cage? Was his ego simply weak to the thoughts of balding?

The reason a mystery, the fact a definitive reality regardless.

He wouldn’t eat cake because of a convenient ‘intermittent fasting’ that I wasn’t aware of until there was suddenly birthday cake involved. I tempted him with ice cream, his favorite, from the grocery store on 5th, and nothing broke his resisting stance.

This year, with a wedding, and a current pregnant under my belt, I was inflexibly determined make him appreciate the joys of a birthday. Knowing going after his sweet tooth was a bust, I let my brain storm, and mull over other ways to get him to finally smile on the 8th of September.

His belly may have been a dead end, but I knew one thirst that Colton could never truly quench.

Me.

One avenue of enjoyment that Colt always enjoyed exploring lie between my hips, and there was no amount of fight he could put up, and win, against it.

The day arrived, and I tested the waters at breakfast with a muffin and a candle for the occasion, only for it to be disregarded altogether when he strolled straight to kiss my neck as I poured his coffee. His pouty, gorilla grunts concluded his still present resentment towards the particular day of the year. I made a call-in to the bakery near the Pilot office before he woke, asking them to wait on standby with my order for a chocolate layered cake had things turned out different at this morning.

He trucked through the front door, gym clothes and a birthday card tucked away inside his duffle, not forgetting our routine morning game of ‘grab-ass’ before he left me to ready for heading into the office.

 We could argue about the singing hallmark surprise over dinner tonight. While he nagged and grumbled about the balloon I planned to pick up on my way home.

I ended the call to the delivery service as I stepped into a hot shower, reiterating that his special birthday gift would be distributed today at 11:00 sharp, right before Colton was due to begin his kickboxing class. I was feeling less than desirable these with the stretches of our baby girl spanning over my belly, and swelling my tender breasts. Newlyweds, we were. And instead of leather garter-belts, and edible underwear, poor Colt was sleeping next to an oversized, less than new t-shirt I refused to let him throw out. He’d never go a day without asserting in every way possible that no matter what condition, my body only furthermore secured my goddess-status in his opinion. The lovemaking was, is, it’s, well clearly, there aren’t enough inappropriate words to illustrate what he does to me beneath the sheets of our bed. But, if a woman doesn’t see it, feel it herself that she’s marvelous, no amount of fervent praises can suffice.

So, this year, I’d give a gift to my newly crowned husband, with every intent to reinvent a love for birthdays, and maybe remind myself that I was fierce. The fiercest in all the land, and the fiend starring Colton Ritter’s wet dreams for the next 75 years.

I twiddled through the copy of an office memo brought to my desk this morning at least 32 times, never absorbing a single line of its contents. Rattling with the clock on my desk, I fiddled with the big hand, checking that it wasn’t indeed frozen in time for the last hour of work. I couldn’t get anything done, eager and dizzy with the apprehensive exhilaration for 11 o’clock to arrive, and Colton’s gift fall into his hands. I reminded the lady from my call this morning repeatedly that only Colton Ritter be responsible, no ifs, ands, or buts.  

  Colton

I hated these fuckin’ birthdays, damn it. I didn’t have a reason. It wasn’t about some suppressed scarring from my childhood because my parents never threw parties, or got me presents. As a matter of fact, Ma went all out with the stupid streamers, and the singing middle-aged men dressed in superhero costumes smelling like vodka. Something in me just hated the reminder that my life was drawing closer to an end. Especially now, since I actually liked the one I had. The one with Livvy, and little my Livvy, due in a few months.

And of course, the evil little minx had to go and remind everyone down at 21 Punches what today was, including Mac who led the stupid birthday song before the door had even shut behind me this morning.

Liv had been a little deflated this morning when I brushed off her subtle hints that she wanted to celebrate the day for me, and the more I stewed on it, the bigger my head grew into a dick. Maybe with her at my side, now as my wife, I should give this whole thing I try? I never want to be the reason her sideways smile fades again.

Just as I was about to tuck my phone into my desk drawer after sending her an apology text for the less-than-grateful behavior earlier, someone rapped a knock on my unlatched office door. I pulled the handle to, confused at the sight of a post-man standing in waiting, and even more confused at the large package tucked under his arm.

“Hey man. You could’ve left that at the front desk, no need for you to carry this shit across the building,” I signed his chipped clipboard.

“Special orders that this be delivered solely into your possession, Mr. Ritter. Have a good one, sir.”

I felt along the hard edges of the package, gently molding my hand around its shape to make sure it wasn’t some gag from one of the fighters on roster for my birthday. There was a tag dangling off the red bow, and I pulled the paper loose, careful to close the door behind me before I opened what was inside.

Happy Birthday, old man.

You only get better with age, my love!

Just a little something for you to look at….

X

Liv

Beautiful, stubborn, and persistent, she was.

I smiled, the way I always do when Liv wrangles me by the balls and just does whatever she damn well pleases whether I like it or not. The crisp paper was neatly creased at the four corners, secured with too much scotch tape for my patience, or lack thereof. So, I simply tore through the middle, short on time, and short on amusement with whatever Liv was playing at.

The image seemed abstract, or obscured initially, but I thought somewhere hidden in the black and white mess I saw long, blonde hair… Shifting the canvas, and tossing the paper in the can of trash beside my desk, my teeth gnawed suddenly.

My eyes instantly alert, and aware at the image before me, and my cock seeming to bust up in and all out hard-on without warning. The slight haze from sunshine beating through the window she looked to, made her glow. White light snuck into every curve of her body, except for the round, need-to-be-bitten curve of her perfect backside, barely covered by the taut lace of her bodysuit lingerie. Her veil grazed the silken, flushed flesh of her arms, and her hair at perfect length hid her angelic face. I touched the picture, wishing I could brush it back and see the soft look of slight, bashful pink on her cheeks, and that heart-shaped gap between her swollen lips. She was an angel caught in front of a lens, with every intention to drag me to the sinful, tight darkness between her thighs. 

This, is how I want to always remember her. Draped in white, goosebumps mounting across her rose-smelling skin, bare. The image captured the essence of where every light in my life came from.

I was moved by the innocence of her sweet, almost timid, oblivious sexiness in front of me. But, the way she was mounted on both of her knees, eyes down like she was waiting to be taken by a dangerous, lethal storm like myself, motivated my insides to painfully pump. Refusing to turn loose of the picture, I searched blindly inside my desk for my cell.

“Hey, birthday boy…” She impishly chided. As if her intent to drive me off the fucking wall with this little delivery of hers wasn’t already clear, the way I could hear her biting her lip as she fiddled with her keyboard secured my assumptions.

“Hey yourself, you little troublemaker.”

Fuck. The giggles… Her laugh was connected with every muscle of control over my dick.

“Troublemaker? I have no absolute idea what you could possibly be referring to, husband of mine.”

“No? So, some other delicious blonde in Pittsburgh with ass for days sent over this glorious fuckin’ photo sitting on my desk right now?”

I heard her gasp as if someone could eavesdrop on the awful things I said to her.

“Okay. Maybe I had a little something to do with that.”

“Oh, I know that for certain, baby. I’ve seen those hands wrapped around me enough to recognize ‘em.”

“Colton Ritter! You know, they say the baby can hear inside the womb. Your poor daughter...” Liv squealed, words on the cusp of a whisper.

“Then I suggest we buy some ear buffs to put over your little belly tonight. I wouldn’t want our girl to hear all the awful things I’m going to have her mommy screamin’.”

“Happy birthday, you sex-crazed pig.”

“I can’t help it my wife is smokin’. And Livvy?” I questioned to her.

“Yes?”

“Thank you. This birthday thing may not be so bad after all now that you’re around.”

TAGS: @miidailyinspiration @torialeysha @mollybegger-blog @eap1935 @littleluna98

[yaachtynoboat711]

Fonder Ch. 4

A/N: Aight so boom: I hope y’all are enjoying this series so far. It’s definitely pushing me out of my fluffy comfort zone. Thanks to everyone who I’ve annoyed had be my third pair of eyes and offered suggestions for these chapters. I appreciate y’all big time. Also, I apologize for the two-week gap between the chapters. I just started school after a semester break, so I’m trying to get adjusted and find my rhythm. Thanks in advance for being patient!

Word Count: ~2.9K (a hair lengthy)

Warning(s): Angst, slow burn, plot progression

Thursday, October 23, 2014, 2:19 p.m., Elements Natural Hair Boutique, Los Angeles

Since she was finally finished with the nearly four month long legal project, Yaa now had a little over a week left in sunny California to do whatever she wanted. Tonight was her self-appointed reward for knocking the project out of the park and earning more clients. The Los Angeles chapter of the Black Yale Alumni Association was hosting their annual fundraising gala. All the BYAA chapters hosted their events the same weekend, the Connecticut event being the flagship event. Around this time last year, Yaa was preparing her ensemble for the Black Ball, totally oblivious to the fact that she would meet her soulmate at the Ball. What a difference a year makes.

“So, who are you taking as your plus one tonight?”, her loctician Nadia inquired as she intricately palm-rolled Yaa’s copper hued locs.

“Matt.”, Yaa announced giving a smirk as she kept reading the latest issue of Essence Magazine. Nadia’s eyebrows went up as she smirked.

“Damn hussy. Speaking of exes, how’s it going with you and Island Boy?”

“Things are getting...better.”

Since her breakdown, Khalida had seen a therapist. Her therapist recommended that for her sake,it’d be best to talk to Winston and try to establish a sturdy friendship. They planned to meet the afternoon after the Yale gala.

“Word? I’m happy for you, sis. Even more, you deserve someone in your life. Shit, you got the personality, smarts, and the looks to have niggas running over each other to get to you.”

Yaa spent the time under the dryer to think about what her loctician said. Her deep thoughts were interrupted with an incoming FaceTime call from Matt.

“Hey, lil ugly.”, Matt playfully chided.

“Well, if it isn’t the NECKS big thing in football. What’s good?”, Yaa snapped back. Matt’s jaw dropped when he finally processed her insult.

“Damn, fuck you, Khay. Anyways, I called to see where we would get ready at? My house or yours?” She almost didn’t hear the last question because she was snickering so.

“Well, according to the GPS, it’s in Calabasas, so I’ll be coming to you. My makeup cases are in the car now and I’m picking my dress up on the way.”

Matt shook his head, “Say less, ma. You getting those serpents tamed for the gala, I see.” He thought that the funniest thing in the world. Before he could say anything else, she hung up. I ain’t got time for his no-neck having ass.

5:00 p.m., Calabasas, California, Matt’s House

Yaa was welcomed into Matt’s spacious mansion with the sounds of hip-hop bouncing off the walls and an excited Matt embracing her.

“You look like you getting ready to fight somebody.”, Matt commented as he took the garment bag from his ex-girlfriend’s arms. She wore her smaller black bonnet, along with a Tuskegee shirt, black yoga capris, and Birkenstock’s.

“And you look like you can’t change a goddamn pillowcase. I keep telling you to leave well enough alone, Griffith.”, she replied as she gave him the “Who gon check me, boo?” look. He shook his head as he led her upstairs to his bathroom.

——

The lion-like revving of Matt’s Karma Revero engine could be heard all along the winding Calabasas back road he decided to take to the gala. He effortlessly finessed the bends and sharp turns of the road in an effort to impress Yaa. He’d had the car for not even a month and was already showing off. He occasionally glanced at the meal that sat in his passenger seat.

“I think I already told you, but you lookin’ hella delicious, ma.”, Matt complimented.

“Why, thank you, Matthew. I try to be as fresh as you.”, she humbly replied.

He took her hand into his and smiled before kissing it. “What’s that perfume you got on? It’s intoxicating.”

“Your cologne.”, she stated bluntly. The two looked at each other and laughed obnoxiously.

“You never cease to amaze me after all these years, Khay. I’m gonna miss you when you leave.”

“Nigga, I ain’t dying. Ima be around when and if I can. R E L A X.”

8:49 p.m., Calabasas Country Club

If you didn’t know that this was an alumni fundraising gala, most would assume that it was an actual Hollywood event. The sound of camera shutters, camera people shouting at those melanated beings gracing the carpet, and the numerous interviews being conducted at the end of the carpet set the vibe of the night. Once again: Black Excellence.

Matt parked his car in front of the country club, he tossed the keys to the valet before reaching for his velvet maroon blazer. Before the valet driver could get in, he stopped him. “Hold on, boss. I got precious cargo in the passenger seat.” He ran over to Yaa’s side where he slowly opened her door. She offered her hand and he helped her out of the car, gathering her train with his other hand.

The BLUE carpet went up the moment Matt Griffith and his date walked onto the carpet. He held Yaa close to him by her waist as they went down the carpet once more as a duo.  She followed suit by tickled his side, causing him to laugh.

“You gon stop, ma’am.”, he warned as she joined in his laughter.

————

Winston was wary of bringing Michelle to the gala. Not because she wasn’t Black, but he was nervous Yaa would show up looking like God’s divine example of perfection. For the small amount of time Winston and Michelle dated, he never divulged the details of his previous relationship with her. For one, it still hurt to talk about the biggest mistake he’d ever made; and two, he feared Michelle would get extremely jealous. Truthfully, Winston hoped Yaa would be there; he wanted to talk and possibly get closure.

“Winston, is Lupita coming?”, Michelle asked shaking Winston out of his thoughts.

“Uhhh...last I checked, she should be here now.”, he replied.

“Is your mysterious ex coming?”

He throat tightened and palms began to sweat. “I doubt it; she’s in D.C. by now. Why?”

“I mean, from the little you’ve told me about her,  she’s a Yale grad and a traveler. Speaking of, why don’t you talk about her?”, she folded her arms in anticipation of the answer.

He probably wasn’t in reality, but he felt like he was sweating bullets. “It’s just that...the relationship could’ve ended on better terms.”, he sighed, “I just need closure, is all. I’ve been spending this time processing everything. I think I’m good now.” He was lying like all hell.

Winston felt a presence in the room. He and Michelle migrated around the venue talking and socializing with the other Black Yale grads. While in a conversation with one of his classmates and Lupita, he heard a laugh. Not just any laugh; the only vibrant, contagious social laugh he could recognize from miles away. Once again, it was her. He resisted the urge to look for her.  

Noticing her friend’s sudden switch in energy, Lupita turned around to see a foxy Yaa dazzling for all to see. She excused herself from the conversation and walked over to Yaa. She tapped her shoulder.

“Heyyyyy, Khalida!”, Lupita greeted with a grin and open arms.

“Well, hello there, Ms. Academy Award Winner! I’m surprised you’re not like polishing your Oscars or filming.”, Yaa joked as she returned the hug. “You look phenomenal, Peet!”, she twirled Lupita around to get a better look of her blue ensemble.

“Not as phenomenal as you! Wow, you know how to slay anything and I’m here for it!”

Matt cleared his throat. “You need a cough drop?”, Yaa asked in a sarcastic tone. He gave her a look.

“I’m sorry. I forgot he was here. Lupita, this is my ex, Matt Griffith, NFL star. Matt, this is the most beautiful woman in existence and Academy Award-winning actress, Lupita Nyong’o.”

After their exchange of pleasantries, Lupita took Yaa to the side to inform her that Winston was also in attendance...with Michelle. As much as it hurt to hear those words come from Lupita’s mouth, Yaa sucked it up and the two returned to Matt.

“We’re going on a field trip, Matt. Come along.” Lupita commanded. Matt agreed and followed his date with her train.

Winston wasn’t paying attention; he was walking around talking with Michelle. He accidentally bumped into Lupita.

“Peet, I’m so sorry. I was talking to Michelle and wasn’t paying attention to...wh-where I...was...going.”, his thoughts and heart rate began to speed up as he looked at the sight in front of him: his ex-girlfriend.

“Hey, Khalida.”, Winston said calmly.  

“Hey, you.”, she basically whispered in a sultry tone.

“You look...sublime.”

“Oh? Interesting word choice, Mr. Duke.” She raised her eyebrow and gave a faint grin. Poor Winston was intoxicated with Khalida’s presence once more—a drug that he could never get out of his system even if his life depended on it. His eyes were fixed on her, breath staggering.

Yaa’s dress was everything: it was a black, long-sleeved, sequined, floor-length curve-hugging gown with a dramatic “v” neck that accentuated her well-endowed chest. A haute Morticia Addams. Nadia styled her locs into a mid bun with a pinned bang.  

Michelle looked on as they conversed. It clicked—Khalida was the one that still had his heart. She wasn’t stupid; she could sense he was holding out in their relationship in more ways than one. Michelle cleared her throat loudly to break up the two former lovers’ sappy reunion.

“Winston, aren’t you going to introduce me to your...friend? ”, Michelle said with a slightly condescending tone, looking Yaa up and down with disgust. Yaa returned a rather unbothered stare to Michelle.

“Oh...of course, Winston began clearing his throat, “Yaa, this is my girlfriend, Michelle Lee, freelance journalist. Michelle, this...this is my...ex...girlfriend, Dr. Khalida Abdullah, Attorney at Law.”, he fought a smile.

Michelle grimaced. “Oh, a lawyer, you say? What kind of lawyer? Whose firm do you work for?”, she interrogated.

“I’m a civil rights attorney and I have my own firm with my partner and best friend from Yale Law.”

“Your own law firm? You look a little too young to own anything. How old are you?”

“Grown.”

“Did you even hear the quest—“

“— Loud and clear. I said I’m grown.” Yaa maintained her calm, yet petty demeanor throughout the unnecessary exchange. All the while, Matt and Lupita exchanged glances and silent snickers. Yaa was going to hold her own without hesitation. The Louisiana Reaper v. the bell pepper. “Winston, may I speak with you in private please?”

Winston looked to an upset Michelle that just waved her hand for him to go on. “After you, Dr. Abdullah.”,he calmly suggested as he motioned her to go in front of him.

Winston made sure to hold Yaa’s train. Winston became entranced as he watched his ex’s Spanx-less bottom switch from left to right. He felt a sweat come over him. Baby girl still had him sprung. They finally walked out to the balcony. The nighttime October breeze hit Yaa’s bare skin, sending goosebumps throughout her body. The bass still bumped even outside the country club. Even with the low lighting on the balcony, Yaa’s dress still sparkled in the moonlit sky. The two stood across from each other. A lot was on their minds and rightfully so. Four months had gone by without any sense of closure. The lack of closure was pacified with many questions, hypotheses, what-if situations, and many, many tearful nights on both ends.

“So uhh—“, the former lovers said in unison. They chuckled.

“You go first.”

“No, you!”

“No...you.”

“Dammit, Winston, somebody going first.”, Yaa said crossing her arms. “I just wanted to say that one, I miss you. Two, I’m happy for you finding Michelle. Lastly, LEMME FOUND OUT YOU OUTCHEA ACTIN YA ASS OFF ON PERSON OF INTEREST, MINI!”, Yaa hyped. She playfully punched his shoulder. There was a visible shift in her body language. She re-adjusted her posture and looked down at her dress. When she looked back up at Winston, he saw a rather stoic expression come across her face. “No, but...I wanted to just speak with you in private and I’m sure you’ve wanted the same. I miss you, Chris.”

Before he spoke, Winston offered his jacket to Yaa, an offer she accepted.

“I miss you more, Yaa.”, Winston replied quickly.

“The four months that we’ve had apart have had me thinking...a lot...a little too much. While the circumstances of our break-up hurt me more than anything, I don’t harbor any ill-will or harsh feelings towards you. I still care for and love you deeply.”

The admission gave Winston a temporary sense of relief. After four long months apart from the love of his life, it was definitely a relief to know that she didn’t want to push him over the balcony ledge. However, that feeling of relief was quickly replaced by the familiar void feeling in his heart—a void left by Yaa. He missed her more she would ever comprehend. He even missed her sarcasm and readings. By this time, he stood in front of her studying her stoic facial expression.

“I still love and care for you, too, Khalida.”, Winston replied.

“Which brings me to my next point”, she began. Winston’s brows furrowed in confusion, “This time apart has also given me the opportunity to contemplate our relationship from this point forward. My therapist...recommended that I reach out to you to establish something we never had—an actual friendship.”, Yaa explained. There was a steady pause and sharp exhale before the word “friendship” left her lips. It hurt her to see Winston with Michelle and even more to not be with him.

Winston blankly stared at Yaa. He saw, heard, and comprehended every word coming out of her Ruby Woo painted lips, but everything wasn’t registering.

“Friends?”

“That’s what I said. I believe we can work as friends and support each other despite our ending. You and Michelle seem like you all are getting into a rhythm and I don’t want to be your hindrance in your loving her.”

“Ok. Yeah...friendship? No problem.”, he noted dryly.

“Winston?”

“Yes?”

“Is that what you truly want? Because I don’t want to let our connection die.”

Winston shifted his weight and sighed before laughing. “Doesn’t want our connection to die...got it. Of course, we can work on a friendship.”, he remarked in a condescending tone. He was repeating that made him lose Yaa the first time. Yaa finally picked up the hints of sarcasm.

“Winston, I don’t know why you’re being condescending and cold towards me, but you need to stop. I just came to talk and try to amends with you and salvage what little we have left between us.” Yaa felt herself getting emotional and angry simultaneously.

Winston began pacing. “Oh, now you want to talk to me when it seemed easy to give me...give us up?!”

Yaa’s eyebrows flew up and her jaw dropped. Her heartbeat began increasing and her petite frame began to tremble—she was beginning to see red. Her mouth opened to snap, but it quickly closed to save his ego and feelings. “I don’t want us to end on this note...again.”, she mumbled.

“I don’t know what you from me, Yaa. This isn’t exactly easy so stop making it look like that.”

Yaa thought long and hard on her next statement. Being a known wordsmith, she had to craft what she was going to say to make sure it would stick with Winston. That and her anger was on 100, so one wrong move and she’d snap. She finally began to speak barely above a whisper but not quite at normal speaking level.

“What I wanted from you was to make sure the plane wasn’t still malfunctioned. But...I see that it’s temporarily disabled. Whenever you get your head and your ego out of your ass, we can talk. The number won’t change. Good night, Mr. Duke.”

She briskly walked back inside of the country club, fighting tears and the urge to break down once more. She wasn’t going to force a grown ass man to do right; Khadijah and Carrie taught her better than that. Once again, his mouth and his ego ran Yaa off. Fuck, whatever happened to doing better and winning her back? The second walk-out hurt more than the first. This time, he was actually angry with himself. Out of nowhere, his fist made contact with the concrete wall. He roared out in pain as his knuckles bled. Not only was his hand in pain in excruciating pain, but so was his heart. Both injuries could’ve been prevented had he just shut up. The tears burned and clouded his eyes as he cried hysterically.

Yaa returned to find Lupita and Matt deep in conversation, Michelle was sitting down at one of the lounge tables. Right away, Matt noticed his date’s rather bubbly and sweet spirit had been messed with.

“Khay, what’s wrong? Is everything alright?”, Matt placed his hand at the small of her back as he studied her visibly upset face. She was fighting back tears.

“Everything’s not ok. Let’s just go before I’ll need to dig Johnnie Cochran up from the dead.” Peet, I’ll text you whenever I can. Lunch is still on for tomorrow.”, she muttered in a monotonous tone.

Matt found himself running after his date as she angrily walked out of the venue. The plane was totaled.

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[stonedstozier]

hold your breath

chapter six

chapter one • chapter two • chapter three • chapter four • chapter five

pairing: stenbrough

warnings: EXTREME FLUFF

modern day au

-

Bill doesn’t sit with the losers at lunch; instead, he sneaks up to the roof of the school. He sits down, feet dangling over the ledge, taking everything in. He knows the others are probably wondering where he is, but he doesn’t care. He wants to be alone. A sad feeling grows in the pit of his stomach. He thinks about Richie and how upset Richie is with him. When Bill’s alone, he’s worried, and when he’s with Richie, he’s mad. Bill feels that he can’t seem to do anything right lately.

“I thought I’d find you up here,” Stan says and sits beside the boy. Bill gives him a sweet smile.

“S- Stan?” Bill asks in almost a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“A- are you mad at m- me too?”

“What?” Stan turns to face Bill. “Of course not, I could never be mad at you. Do you think I’m mad at you?”

Bill shakes head.

“I know th- that Richie’s mad at me and I’m a- af- afraid that you might be t- too, or the others.”

“No, no. No one is mad at you, Billy.” Stan places his hand on top of the other’s. “Richie isn’t mad either. He’s like a,” Stan pauses, trying to think of a good metaphor. “He’s like a concerned mother. You know, like when you’re out past your curfew and you come home and it seems like your mom is mad, but she’s not. She’s just worried that something may have happened to you, but she loves you so much and she’s glad you’re safe. It seems like anger, but it’s worry and love mixed together. That’s how Richie feels.”

Bill looks away. He’s never felt this feeling before. He’s never had a concerned mother. He doesn’t even know what it’s like to have a mother that actually loves him and worries about him. This feeling is foreign and he can’t tell if Stan is right or not.

“Y- you think so?”

“I know so,” Stan says confidently and links his arm in Bill’s and rests his head on his shoulder. Bill closes his eyes, biting down on his tongue trying his hardest to not smile. Both of their hearts pick up pace and beat in sync. They stay like that, in silence, for what seems like years.

“Hey guys,” Ben says, bursting through the door to the rooftop, causing the cuddling boys to jump. “Um, it’s time to go.” Ben says, looking at the two suspiciously before leaving. Stan and Bill exchange glances and burst into a fit of giggles.

“Do you want to come over after school?” Stan asks as he helps Bill to his feet.

“I- I’d love to,” Bill smiles sweetly.

Throughout the rest of the day Bill can’t stop thinking about Stan. The way it felt to have his body so close to his. The way it felt to sit there in silence that felt comfortable. To sit there and have everything feel okay. Bill smiles to himself as the final bell rings and practically skips his way over to Stan.

“You ready, Big Bill?”

“Yes,” Bill jumps slightly in place.

“Where you going?” Richie asks coming out of nowhere, the question directed towards Stan.

“Oh, Bill and I are going to my house.” he smiles.

“No,” Richie says sternly. “He’s coming with me, we need to talk.” Richie grabs Bill’s arm and begins to walk away.

“No!” Stan protests, grabbing Bill by his other wrist and pulling him back to his side. “He’s had a rough week, he needs a break. You can talk to him later.”

“I’m seriously not about to argue with you about this. Bill is coming with me.”

“No,” Stan says coldly, his eyes piercing Richie’s.

Bill looks back and forth between the two. He’s not quite sure what to do, he doesn’t want to upset either of them.

“Fine,” Richie throws his hands in the air. “But we are talking later.” he looks at Bill and walks away. Bill sighs a shaky breath and looks down to see that his and Stan’s fingers are laced together.

“I- I told you he’s m- ma- mad,” Bill looks up at Stan.

“He’s not mad, Billy.” Stan laughs a gentle laugh. “He’s just worried.”

“Okay,” Bill whispers and the two walk outside, grab their bikes, and head off to Stan’s house.

Stan unlocks the front door and the two step inside.

“D- do you have something to e- e- eat?” Bill asks immediately. Stan leads the boy to the kitchen and opens the pantry.

“Woah,” Bill’s mouth hangs open wide. He’s never seen so much food all stocked in one place. “There’s so m- much.”

“Pick anything you want,” Stan motions over at the pantry.

“Th- there’s no way,”

“Then I guess we’ll have a little bit of everything,”

“W- w- we’re gonna get fat,” Bill says with wide eyes.

“Well isn’t that what sleepovers are all about?” Stan winks.

Bill shrugs and the two grab a little bit of everything, just like Stan said. They head up to his room and throw everything on the bed.

“J- jesus, this is a lot.”

“So what first? Video games or movies?” Stan asks, turning on the TV.

“Vi- no, no. Mov- wait, vid-” Bill sighs. “I don’t know.”

“How about movies?” Stan smiles warmly. Bill nods his head, smiling back. “Stand By Me?”

“Th- that’s my-”

“Favorite movie, I know.” Stan cuts him off.

“H- how do you know that?”

“I know a lot more about you than you think,”

Bill swears his heart just melted into his feet. Stan turns on the movie and the two settle into Stan’s bed and eat as much food as their stomachs will allow. Bill can’t help but quote parts of the movie, feeling Stan’s eyes burning holes into the side of his head.

“What?” Bill asks, turning to Stan.

“You’re so adorable.” Bill’s eyes go wide at the comment. “Oh no, Billy, I’m so sorry. I, um, I d-”

“It’s ok- kay,” Bill says softly as a tint of pink lands itself on his cheeks.

“Are you sure?” Stan asks. He isn’t quite sure why he said that, he swears the words just slipped right out of his mouth. Bill nods his head. The two continue to watch the movie, all the way until the end.

“Stan?”

“Yeah?”

“Y- y- you,” Bill stumbles over his words, more than he ever has before. “You make m- me h- h-ha- happ- p- p- happy.” Bill looks away, blushing even more.

“I do?” Stan feels his heart pick up pace. He takes a few deep breaths before it beats right out of his chest.

“Yes,” Bill turns and faces the boy again as soon as the heat leaves his face. “I don’t eve- even remember the last time R- Richie and I did s- s- something like this.”

“Really?” Stan pulls his eyebrows together, finding it hard to believe. Bill nods his head. “Well, I’m glad I can help.” Stan’s eyes pour into Bill’s blue ones. “Do you want to stay the night?” Bill nods his head frantically. “Okay,” he smiles. “But first, I’m about to kick your ass in Call of Duty.”

“Are you s- sure about that?” Bill smirks. The two boys run for the controllers, both grabbing controller one at the same time. “I g- g- grabbed it first, U- Uris!”

“No you didn’t, Denbrough.” Stan says, pulling the controller towards him, pulling Bill along with it. Bill pulls back - jolting Stan towards him this time. The two fight for the controller until Bill gets an idea.

“Y- your mom's home!” Bill suddenly says, distracting Stan. He then pulls the controller quickly out of Stan’s hands. “I- I win,” Bill says, doing a little dance.

“Okay, sure.” Stan says sarcastically and pushes Bill’s chest lightly, but hard enough for him to fall over.

“Who’s got it now?” Stan smirks, grabs the controller out of Bill’s hands, and runs down the hallway.

“You’re d- d- dead, Uris!” Bill yells at the curly-haired boy and runs after him.

The two boys chase each other around the house until they’re both out of breath.

“O- okay, I give up. Yo- you can h- have it.”

Stan winks at his friend.

“Good,” he teases.

The two boys play games, watch more movies, argue about which Pokemon would win certain battles, and much more. Bill feels good, he feels happy. Really happy, in fact. He forgets about everything for a little bit. He forgets that Richie is upset with him, forgets what happened the night before, forgets how horrible he feels; he forgets every little thing. Right now he’s so focused on Stan and this moment that he swears he feels invincible.

Stan feels the same way. He couldn’t be any happier to be here with Bill, to be next to him, hearing him laughing and smiling. It makes Stan feel on top of the world, that he’s able to get laughs and smiles out of Bill when no one has been able to do so in months. ‘Bill looks happier too’, Stan thinks. His eyes look like they have a little bit of life back in them, his skin glowing and not pale. He wishes that Richie wouldn’t be so hard on the other. Bill’s in pain and Richie seems to be adding to it. He knows it’s not intentional, but Bill needs to have as much positivity in his life as possible, especially since no one knows what’s going on inside of his head.

Things are happy and well. The two hardly sleep that night due to non-stop laughter and endless conversations. The boys know that they’ll regret it in the morning, but they don’t care; they simply don’t care at all.

The next morning is the same, laughter and smiles all around. That is, until they get to school.

“So, how was your little sleepover?” Richie asks blankly as he walks up to Bill.

“Richie, don’t start.” Stan pleads.

“No, I genuinely want to know.” Richie’s tone is slightly cold, not genuine at all.

“F- fun,” Bill says quietly.

“Oh, good.”

“Richie, seriously, don’t start.” Stan’s tone turns cold as well. “This is unnecessary. Don’t ruin his mood, okay? He had a good night last night.”

“Noted, but I still want to talk with him.” Richie motions for Bill to follow him and he does so until Stan puts his hand in front of Bill, stopping him.

“No,” Stan states.

“No?”

“Did I stutter?” Stan instantly regrets what just came out of his mouth. He meant it in no way to offend Bill at all. But regret quickly washes away when he hears Bill giggling from behind him.

Bill knows Stan didn’t mean it in a way to mock him, in fact, he thought it was quite witty.

“Look, I don’t know who you think you are, but that is my best friend that you are keeping away from me. And I want to talk to him, so let me talk to him.” Richie closes the gap between him and Stan, inches away from his face.

“Bill, go.” Stan says, his eyes not leaving Richie. Bill stands there for a second, not knowing exactly what he means. “Bill,” Stan’s voice is soft but his words are demanding. “Go.” Bill leaves the two boys and tries to locate the rest of the losers. “You can’t be serious right now, Richie. Bill is finally back, or he’s at least starting to come back and you just think you can waltz your way in here and try to ruin it?”

“Ruin it? How the fuck am I ruining it?”

“He’s happy, Richie! I mean, he was last night. And you are dragging him down by reminding him of everything that happened the other day.”

“You don’t even know what happened to him!” Richie bites back.

“And neither do you! So quit fucking with his mind.”

“You’re accusing me of fucking with his mind? You’ve got a lot of nerve saying that. He’s not your best friend, he’s mine. Does he go knocking on your window in the middle of the night? Does he let you hold him while he cries, has he ever even cried in front of you? Does he let you hold him while he sleeps? Does he even tell you anything at all? No, he does none of that. I’m glad that he’s happy, but he has to talk about it at some point. I know what’s best for him, so I suggest you stay out of this.”

“You know what’s best for him? Do you, Richie? Do you really? Because to me it seems that he’s worse when he’s with you. At least with me he’s happy.” Stan hates what he’s saying, but it’s the truth. If Stan being around Bill makes Bill feel better, then he wants to be around him as much as he can; he doesn’t care if Richie is his best friend.

“I have been there for Bill way longer than you have, than anyone else has. You don’t know shit about him, Stan. You know absolutely nothing. So I would suggest you shut the fuck up and let me do what I need to do.” Richie looks the boy up and down.

“Yeah, well, things change. Maybe he’s not happy with you anymore. Maybe he’s tired of you. Maybe what you’re doing isn’t right for him.”

“Oh, you don’t know right from wrong when it comes to Bill. I’m done, I’m not fighting with you about this. I’m not fighting over him. He doesn’t need this. What he needs is me, and I would suggest that you don’t fight me on this because I know you know I’m right.” Richie takes one last glance at Stan before walking away, leaving Stan alone with his angry and disheveled thoughts.