#f: toffee

[f-o-and-selfship-club]

Do have any simping on Toffee from Star vs The Forces of Evil series fr?

As being a simp on MOSTLY VILLAINS!

IT'S THE SUIT AND THE VOICE! GUHHHHHH

[spoopy-doodlez]

Im sorry

[thecoochiefairy]

𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖔𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖊𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖞

━━ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑛 .ᐟ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚

warnings 𑄽𑄺 18K word count. toji zenin, biker!toji plug!toji, kinda/sorta! third person omniscient pov, black woman, vaginal penetration, a lil bit of angry/rough sex, lil bit of sweet talkin’, hair pulling, squirting, creaming, oral [f] [m], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, condomless sex, overstimulation, edging maybe? kissing, spanking, aggressive toji, lil bit of sweet toji, megumi as a baby, toji as a daddy hehe, minors aren’t welcome!

song to play while listening; 𝑒𝑥𝑐𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 ; 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑝𝑖𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑑 & 𝑃𝐴𝑅𝑇𝑌𝑁𝐸𝑋𝑇𝐷𝑂𝑂𝑅

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ now look, i already said this was finna be a long ride, okay. so just enjoy. visuals for fem-character in this fic—✰ ✰ ✰ she listens to brent faiyaz ✰ ✰ ✰ —visuals for toji/vibes for this fic will be @ the bottom, so scroll down before you start! no words, just cuteness, hotness, + my man my man my man! flying away! 🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧

SPIDER-MAN DOODLED WITHIN THE CORNER OF THE PAPER IS WHAT DRAWS HER ATTENTION, immediately recognizing what student it belongs to. She can’t help the small smile that comes along her face as she brings her eyes up to search for him, seeing as his nose is shoved closer to his journal than the actual coloring pencil.

She adored being a Pre-K teacher. Being able to influence the mind of children growing into their own people made her feel like a superhero—It was their giggles, their constant questions, their curiosity. A happiness that no one could replace. But her favorite student in particular was Megumi.

His dark hair that sprawled all around his head, doe-like gray eyes that beamed when something took his interest. He’d always been more quiet, not as interactive with other students, barely joining in during activities or even recess.

He stuck to her like glue, even when he didn’t have anything to say. His nose was within his Spider-Man booklet, drawing pictures with his left hand—she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the child’s company.

She stood from her desk, passing by her other students that were in different stations within the classroom, coming to the ‘art station,’ as she kneeled down to the table next to Megumi who continued to draw.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she calls softly, “You okay?” Her eyes drift between him and one of her other students within this station, a little girl with pigtails, toffee skin shining under the classroom lights.

“Did you see what Anabel drew?” She asks.

Megumi looked up at her with a small nod, his dark bangs sticking out a little. He glanced at the girl and gave her a kind smile before looking back down to the table. He looked a little tired, but his large eyes were as observant as ever.

"It is very pretty," he mumbled in his timid voice. His small hands still continued to shade in the page he had started, filling in his favorite hero’s color scheme.

She blows out a breath, wishing he had a little more to say as she prods, “It is,” she agrees, looking at Anabel who was extremely talkative, “Hey, Bel’s, did you see Megumi’s picture? He’s really good at drawing.”

Anabel nodded excitedly, her pigtails bouncing. She was a bundle of energy compared to the quiet Megumi, her bubbly personality on full display.

“Mhmm!” she chimed with a giggle, her eyes landing on Megumi’s page as she leaned over, her small hands gripping the side of the table as she gasps, “That’s a pretty picture! Did you draw it all by yourself?”

Megumi’s gaze slowly turned from his page to the girl. Despite his shy nature, she hadn’t seemed pushy like most children often were. He slowly nodded, his eyes meeting hers as she leaned closer to look.

“Yes.. I did it all by myself…” his soft voice mumbled quietly. He was often proud of his drawings, it was his favorite thing to do.

His teacher’s eyes almost brightened. She then tries a different tactic, “How about you show Anabel the drawing of Spider-girl you made? Or maybe, you can make her one?”

The boy’s attention moved back to his picture with a thoughtful expression. He seemed to ponder over the teacher's words, debating on the idea. After a moment of hesitation, he looked up to Anabel, who seemed excited.

“…I can show her my other picture…” he nods his head, going into his desk as he says, “I can make you another Spider-girl one, okay? This one is for my dad,” he tells Anabel, pressing the paper to his chest with his small fingers.

Speaking of the bastard, this was the one person that she didn’t have the opportunity to tell about how amazing Megumi was—his father.

She had been trying to contact Megumi’s father since he’d begun school, his nanny being the person that dropped him off on the first day. When she asked the nanny if there was any particular reason why he never showed up, she shrugged, as if she didn’t have an answer either.

‘He’s a busy man,’ she’d tell her. She didn’t think it was her business to pry, but when she concluded that the reason why Megumi clung to her—even if she didn’t want to admit it to herself— that this need for attention was lacking at home. She proclaimed that whenever his father decided to make his grand entrance by meeting the person Megumi was around more than his nanny, she’d give him a piece of her mind. She just didn’t know that day would be today.

“Thank you, you’re sweet,” she compliments, ruffling his hair. She sees as that makes his cheeks go russet, sliding his picture over to his classmate. As she stands, she looks up to see her co worker coming in to do her usual act of bothering her—which she didn’t mind, she was her friend— a smile upon her face as she sung playfully, “Heyyy Ms. Honey.”

She sighs, giving a soft laugh with a roll to her eyes at the playful call of her last name. She knew there would always be a never-ending joke anytime someone greeted her, always giving a rendition of, ‘Because she’s so sweet,’ waving as she replied, “Hey, Ms. Em.”

“I love your classroom, your kids are like the ultimate palate cleanser,” Ms. Em sighs, “Ready to get out of here?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Ms. Honey exhales, “Did you ever find out what time your class was going to that anti-bullying program?”

“Of course I did, who you’ think I am? Someone who doesn’t do their job?” She chuckled a little before letting out a slightly exaggerated sigh, “Although, I must say, that event is gonna be such a bore…”

“Extremely,” Ms. Honey mutters, looking over her desk for her pen, never noticing as Ms. Em is grinning at the scene behind her.

Ms. Em turns towards her co-worker as she asks, “Is that Megumi…making friends?” She whispers.

She sighs in return, “Trying to. I asked him to show Anabel his drawing, I thought he was gonna faint.”

Ms. Em chuckled at her words, her hands landing on her hips with a slight laugh, “He’s so shy, what a cutie.”

“I just wish he wouldn’t be so afraid to make friends. Everyone in class always wants to talk to him, he’s sweet irregardless. And his drawings, it’s nothing I’ve seen come from a four year old. They’re amazing,” she crosses her arms, “You’d think he’d want the entertainment, he’s an only child. I’m sure that becomes lonely.”

“Speaking of home, any updates on daddy-day -care?” she grins, seeing as Ms. Honey immediately became irritated.

“Girl, don’t make me laugh. I have to go through an interview just to have the nanny tell me he can’t talk. I’ve never spoken to the man directly. And she acts like she’s terrified of him, so I don’t know what to do.”

“Damn, this guy is so busy that he can’t even give you a call or email himself?”

“Not even a letter from a bird,” Ms. Honey retorts, “I asked if he was some CEO with this unattainable free time, the nanny said she only sees him when it’s close to Megumi’s bed time. She doesn’t know what he does for work, she just knows it’s something…illegal,” she whispered the last part.

“Mafia-daddy or assassin, hot,” Ms. Em playfully whispers in return.

The more she explained the situation, the more irritated she felt herself becoming as she thought about it. She truly didn’t feel like it was her place to have anything to say about his fathers job or even the slight abandonment to his child, but as it affected him on a daily basis—and the bastard seemed like a bastard— she cared about Megumi more than a way that a teacher cared about her student, it was a motherly nature that she had for him.

“But seriously, you’re kidding me, right?” Ms. Em raises her eyebrows, “He has to be a business tycoon or something, there’s no way that the time he does have for his kid is almost charitable.”

Ms. Honey shrugs, “Let’s hope for my sake I’ll eventually run into him. Or over him, whichever one I’m successful at first.”

“I’d like to be a fly stuck to the front of that car.”

Ms. Honey laughs, “I’d like to be the one driving the car.”

“That too.”

She feels her stress lightly release from her shoulders as her co-worker makes her feel better. As they both laugh amongst each other, their attention is suddenly taken away to the front of the class, a masculine cologne hitting their nose before the figure meets their eyes. Ms. Honey could’ve choked on her spit.

The silhouette within the doorframe nearly reaches the ceiling. He was… terrifying. It was in all the ways that sent shivers down her spine, also sending throbs in between her thighs. The scar jagged across his lips told her everything she needed to know. Onyx hair, steel gray eyes that had a familiarity she couldn’t pinpoint. Olive toned skin and baby pink lips, her eyes falling to a dark inked skull along the side of his neck, making her nearly want to faint at the sight. His broad shoulders were camouflaged by a sable shirt, tight along his hard torso that almost pulled inwards—that’s just how sculpted he was. More ink scattered along his large arms, dark jeans and hefty boots along his feet. He dropped the motorbike helmet he had within his veined covered palm along the desk by the door, stoic face searching for something, or someone within the room.

She takes a moment to breathe as she hears Ms. Em whisper, “Who in the hell is that?”

“I…don’t know,” Ms. Honey mutters back, still stunned.

He was a sight for sore eyes. As she looked at him, she immediately thought to herself, ’goddamn.’ Jawline as sharp as a knife, body nearly straining against his shirt—just an overall ominous aura, this man was a demon in the flesh. She knew she was staring.

“Uh—I’ll be right back,” Ms. Honey mutters, beginning to make her way over to him.

She didn’t recognize this to be one of her students' parents. As she goes to introduce herself, this time, his eyes are the ones studying her. Her strawberry red hair is pulled into a ponytail that swishes along her mid back, edges perfectly sculpted along her forehead, the rich red contrasting her caramel skin, freckles spruced along her face, nose and lips. Similar to him, she has a large rose blooming within the side of her neck, something he wouldn’t expect for a teacher to have. Her double golden nose rings shine within the light, baby pink long sleeve clinging to her body in a way that should’ve been inappropriate but was only at fault for her genetics—large hips and ass that she could only thank her mother for— blood red skirt flowing down to the floor with white sandals along her feet, orchids clipped to the top of them.

She comes up to him, nervously pulling at her ponytail as she greets, “Good afternoon,” giving a polite smile, straight teeth shining under her brown-lined lips, “I don’t think you have the right classroom, what teacher are you looking for?”

The man’s eyes never wavered from her form as she approached. He was taking in every little detail. How her red hair framed her face, the gold on her nose, how her shirt and skirt clung to her body, her scent, he felt like a dog in heat, wanting to howl as her aroma of cinnamon and vanilla choked up his windpipe. His gaze slowly went down to look at her hips and ass, his expression unreadable, before going back up to her face. He noticed her nervous habit of pulling on her ponytail, as well as the nervous tug on her skirt. She was sexy.

“Nah,” his voice had a rasp, deep baritone crawling to her spine as he replied, “I’m in the right place. You’re Ms. Honey, aren’t you?”

Her eyebrows raise up, “Me? I am. I just— I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you to be one of my students' parents,” she places her hands behind her back, his eyes dropping down to her physique, eyebrow twitching. This definitely wasn’t the time to think about how erotically attractive this man was.

“I’m Megumi’s father, Toji Zenin.”

As it hit her, she muttered, “Oh shit,” fixing her posture as she turned towards her co-worker, “Ms. Em, do you mind getting some of the kids started with dismissal?”

Ms. Em was caught off guard, not expecting to be roped into this situation. She looked between Ms. Honey and the mysterious man with a slightly surprised expression, nodding to her before turning to the children and saying in a convincing tone, “Okay cuties, let’s put away your supplies and go get ready for dismissal, okay?”

She turned back towards the man, “You’re…Megumi’s father…” to which he drops his eyes along her face and replies, “That’s what I just said.”

“Uh—it’s nice to finally meet you!” she takes a deep breath as she gives him another kind smile, placing her hand out.

It feels like an eternity as a hand never comes out to shake hers, her eye almost wants to twitch. Toji looked at her outstretched hand, an unamused expression on his face.

“Yeah,” he grunted.

He stayed leaning against the wall, broad frame nearly bending the doors hinges, his arms still crossed, looking down at her as he stated, “You’re the one with the ‘concerns’ about how I’m raising my fuckin’ kid.”

Okay, so he wasn’t the type to be passive aggressive. Just aggressive-aggresive. She places her tongue on her cheek, raising an eyebrow as she laughs awkwardly in response, “That I am. I’ve been wanting to speak to you for a while, you’re very good at ignoring someone. Now that you’re here, I’d like a sliver of your precious time?”

His jaw clenched as she spoke sarcastically, his eyes narrowing at her tone, “Speak then.”

She wanted to smack him upside the head right then and there. But she kept her composure, looking back to Megumi who giggled absentmindedly with Anabel, wishing she’d been anywhere else but this conversation.

She turned back towards him as she spoke, “Well, Megumi is a really good kid. He’s sweet, polite, and respectful—not sure who I have to thank for that—“ she throws shade, “But the only minor problem I do have out of him is his participation and social skills with other students. He has an issue making friends, and the only thing that keeps his interest is his school work and drawing.”

“You’re upset because the kid isn’t some damn social butterfly like the rest of your class?”

Her eyes squint at him as she pensively disagrees, “No. If you’d let me finish, he draws a lot. It’s essentially his passion. When I ask him what he’s drawing about, or who he’s drawing for, he says it’s for his father. He seems to be seeking your approval, Mr. Zenin. Not that it’s my place to tell you how to be a better father, but I’d give notion that if you were more of a participant in your child’s life, his social skills would bloom just like a social butterfly,” she tilts her head, gritting her teeth to keep from cussing him out.

His large arms go over his chest, a humorless laugh coming from his full lips as he asks, “You got’ kids?”

“No sir, I don’t,” she replied, a shift in her face at the question, yet she remains stoic.

“Then who in the fuck are you to tell me about how to raise mine?”

As she goes to reply, he cuts her off, “ You must be some dumbass, naive idealist who thinks everyone can be a perfect parent with enough love.”

“What I am is somebody telling you to watch your mouth around my students. Quickly,” she raises an eyebrow, voice going lower, “But I absolutely think with enough love and attention to your son, we wouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place, Mr. Zenin.”

He grits his teeth for a moment to hold back a nasty reply, “I don’t need some gentle parenting bullshit spout about how to raise my own son,” he then remembers her threat, “Shut me the fuck up if you’re gonna threaten me. Know I’m not one of those other parents you’re used to—I’m your worst damn nightmare.”

She pulled her face back, raising an eyebrow. Was this motherfucker trying to scare her? Who in the goddamn hell was he talking to?

All of her professionalism went out the window as she sneered, “Come find me in my sleep, then. Nobody’s telling you to do anything. But I’d appreciate the effort of at least faking as if you’re committed to having a goddamn child, rather than clocking out when you don’t feel like being a father.”

“Maybe I ain’t one of those fathers that bakes sugar cookies with my kid and reads him a bedtime story, Ms. Honey, but I’m present. I don’t need your fuckin’ advice.”

“Then double it and pass it to the next person, Mr. Zenin. I literally don’t give a fuck—“

“Ms. Honey, can I take this book home with me?” A sweet voice calls from below, her attention being pulled away by one of her other students. It hits reality that she’s still at work, still standing within her classroom.

She was thankful that her students hadn’t heard this back and forth, but she could see Ms. Em felt the fire coming off of both of them.

She pressed her hand along the child’s cheek, “Yeah, of course, baby boy,” she replied to her student, Oliver, tan skin and bright green eyes giggling excitedly at her, “ Go ‘head.”

When she faces the man again, she realizes that she’d made a damn fool of herself, allowing this man to rile her up in a way that she never was with a student's parent.

She takes a deep breath as she leaves him with, “I’ll go get Megumi.”

Toji’s anger had simmered at the interruption. Even he wasn’t heartless enough to continue the argument with a child present. He watched as she went and spoke to her other students in her softest voice, almost admiring the way her face changed as she interacted gently. It nearly made him forget how fucking irritating her adamance was.

As she comes over to Megumi, she squats back down as she sighs, “Hey, handsome. Look who’s here,” she speaks softly to him, running his hair out of his face with a soft smile.

Megumi looked up from his drawing, his face lighting up slightly when he saw his father. He was surprised that he was the one to pick him up, but he felt happy to see him.

He set down his crayon and immediately started to pack up his things, almost saying to hell with his backpack as he ran towards his father, Toji grunting with a soft chuckle as he caught him within his arms. The man’s entire physique softened as Megumi acknowledged him.

“You wanna leave some of your snacks here for recess tomorrow?” She asks him, happy at how elated he was to see his father. She was glad it wasn’t another response, otherwise she would’ve actually crashed out on this man.

Megumi thought for a moment before smiling and nodded gently in agreement. Her words reminded him that he did forget his snacks at his desk, but if he was to take them home now, he would eat them all before morning came.

He looked up at his father, who was still holding him and he pointed over to the desk. “Can I grab my snacks…?” he asked in a shy voice.

“Go ‘head,” he replies even softer than Megumi asked, running his hands over his hair as he pressed a kiss to his child’s forehead, letting him run back over to his chair.

Megumi grabs his snacks from the table as he begins to take them to the classroom fridge, placing them where his name is taped on the shelf. Ms. Honey was now intentionally avoiding her gaze along Toji, taking a breath as she clasps her palms together, “I didn’t hear the clean-up song while Ms. Em instructed dismissal time!” causing the entire class to recite the tune they’d come up with, packing up their last bit of things into their backpacks.

She hadn’t noticed as Toji’s eyes dropped down to her ass, never in doubt of this woman’s attractiveness irregardless of their debacle. Maybe if he fucked that stick out of her ass, she wouldn’t have room for another one.

Once she makes sure he has all of his things together, she lets out a breath as she exhales, “Okay, Megumi—“ a shriek from her own mouth interrupting her sentence as he swiftly dropped his backpack, tightly wrapping his arms around her lower half.

She can’t help her small giggle, hugging him back as she speaks softly, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Meg. Promise I’m not gonna run away.”

Megumi smiled up at her as she hugged him back, enjoying her soft giggles as he clung onto her. He nodded and pulled away, reaching down to grab his backpack as he waved, “Bye-bye! See you tomorrow,” gripping his small hand within Toji’s larger one.

As she watched him grab Toji's hand, their entire argument recited in her head. The guilt immediately hit her chest, wishing it would’ve been more productive conversation. On the other hand, he was still an ass, and she didn’t necessarily feel like she wanted to apologize—yet.

She gave Toji one more glance before she turned her attention back to the class, leaving the conversation exactly where it was before as he and his son left the classroom. There was nothing to say.

Once the entire class cleared out, she could tell Ms. Em wanted to practically explode, holding her mouth up until the kids were gone.

“And uh, what the hell was that?!” she exclaims in a whisper-yell, her tone full of curiosity.

“Girl,” she sits along her desk, crossing her arms, “I almost killed that bastard. Did you hear our conversation?”

“I would’ve heard him swallow if I was listening any harder. Goddam, the tension in here felt like it was ready to explode. I was afraid a chair was going to catch fire or somethin’!”

“Funny,” Ms. Honey rolls her eyes, “I can’t believe him. Getting mad because you don’t spend time with your son?”

“The audacity to try and argue with you about his terrible parenting. And the damn gall to walk into this classroom and act as if you’re the one in the wrong!” she pauses for a moment, raising an eyebrow, “Although, you should’ve seen his face from my perspective. It was like he was trying not to smile or something, I swear,” she teased in a sly tone.

Ms. Honey twists her face, “I hope you’re not trying to insinuate something in that big ass head of yours. It doesn’t matter how hot he was, still doesn’t not make him a bastard, Em’.”

Ms. Em sighs, laying herself on her friends desk as she dreamily sighs, “Come onnnn, you can’t argue that the man wasn’t attractive as hell. That scar, those muscles, that height…” she trails off, looking back at Ms. Honey with a smirk, “Ugh, I could moan right now. And he rides a damn motorcycle? My cervix hurts. Maybe you should give him a chance. You might be able to get him to change his ways,” she presses her hands to her chest.

“What Disney song are you about to start singing?” Ms. Honey raises her eyes, her co-worker raising her middle finger to her as she retorts, “If you don’t want him, I’ll put his ass on a leash, quickly!”

“I’ll meet you at Pet-Smart to buy his food then.”

Ms. Em rolls her eyes, “You're getting bitchy. That’s my cue to exit stage left!” She begins walking out, dramatically swaying her hips, “I feen for a good enemy to lovers trope. Call me when you wanna go to Pet-Smart!”

Being left alone with the classroom allows her to let out a big exhale, wishing the conversation hadn’t gone so left. She was simmering on this thought as she sat at her desk going through her students homework, a FaceTime call interrupting her work. She sees the familiar picture of her best friend, answering as she continues looking at the papers, “Yes, Ezra?”

Ezra groans dramatically as his face appears on her screen, brown skin and emerald green hair appearing as he draws out her first name, “Ah—sigh—yelll, I’m boooooreeeed,” pouting like a child.

“Bored? Don’t you have that car show to go to later?” Asael looks over the camera, “Or have a little sneaky-link to…link with?”

Ezra rolls his eyes, “That last man was a lil’ hookup. He’s not really my type. Besides, I have a new toy to play with,” he responds slyly, letting out a sigh, “But, that’s actually what I called you for, the car show is tomorrow night—and you’re coming with me.”

Asael frowns to the camera, “Says who?”

“Me, that’s who. You haven’t been out in a hot minute, you just need to let loose and relax, maybe find a sexy biker to swipe your little abstinence card,” he replies with a small giggle, ignoring the glare she sends through the camera.

“It’s celibacy, smart one. And I just haven’t…found anyone that truly arouses me, I’d rather be in isolation than have meaningless sex,” she shrugs.

“Almost a year of no dick is insane. You have a strong sense of mind and body,” Ezra shakes his head.

“My dick doesn’t have a mouth to get on my nerves, and only complains when I need to change its batteries,” she shrugs, “But as far as your plans, I’m good on that. Not in the mood to watch a bunch of guys do donuts in a parking lot for hours.”

Ezra rolls his eyes at her words, letting out a scoff, “Come on, it’s not going to be just guys doing donuts. There’s going to be live music, food, hot guys, oh, and hot guys again! My man’s gonna be there with his lil’ fire ass retro car.”

She hadn’t done anything with her last couple of weekends but cuddled in the bed with her cat, grading papers and overworking herself until all she wanted to do was sleep. She figured that flirting with a couple of guys with nice cars wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, and maybe would be a great start to her weeknd.

She tilts her head, humming as she thinks over the proposal, “Mmm, food truck food, hot guys with hot cars. Doesn’t sound too bad now that I think about it.”

“See, I knew you’d agree with me in the end. Ezra’s always right!”

She sighs, “I need an outing after the day I just had,” she admits more to herself.

Ezra’s eyebrows shot up with curiosity, “Oh? And why is that? Was someone mean to my bestie? Whose feet do I need to tie bricks to and throw them in the nearest ocean?”

“Yes, actually!” She exclaims, “Remember my student Megumi? The one I always send you pictures of? Super cutie with bad social skills?”

“That sweet lil’ kid who looks like he could kill with a single look?”

“Yeah, well I met his father. After playing telephone with the nanny I finally got a hold of Ghostface, and he ripped my ass to shreds. Told me it wasn’t my business how he raised his son,” she briefly explains, not wanting to piss herself off all over again.

Ezra’s jaw practically hits the floor as he processes her words, “You’re lying, who the hell does he think he is? The goddamn pope?”

“Did I mention the bastard is the hottest fucker you’ve ever seen?” She adds on, seeing Ezra’s jaw drop down to the core of the earth, Asael nodding as she laughs humorlessly, “Yeah. It gets worse. Motherfucker could put a nun out of commission.”

“And he ate you up that bad?”

“Chewed me up and spit me out. He literally came in on ten! He was not playing with me. Although I snapped his ass right back up, I’m starting to feel like it wasn’t my business,” she sighs, “But you know how I feel about Megumi…I’m just afraid that the lack of attention will cause him to change.”

“Damn. Megumi’s a sweet kid. He doesn’t deserve to be neglected by his own father, no matter how hot the man is,” Ezra shakes his head.

“I feel bad. I want to apologize—but the bitch doesn’t even deserve that,” she leans along her chair, rubbing a hand over her hair as she groans, half covering her mouth as she quietly admits, “He had a fuckin’ neck tat, Ezra! I wanted to lick him,” She admits, hearing as Ezra laughs at that.

“Can’t believe you didn’t snap a picture with your eyes and mind transfer it to me. You don’t love me forreal,” he smacks his lips, “But seriously, if he comes back to pick him up tomorrow, just take off your huge ass prideful panties and apologize. If he starts tripping, I’ll pop up and pop his ass.”

“Are you tryna’ get me fired? Or arrested? Don’t be funny,” she frowns, “I’ll just apologize and hope he isn’t on some extra shit. But if I call you, just know you will get the opportunity to slash someone’s tires.”

“I’ve been waiting all my life for this moment,” Ezra fake-cries into the phone, “I can finally shine!”

Asael softly laughs, rolling her eyes as she says, “I gotta finish these papers, just meet me at my place by the time I’m off work tomorrow.”

“Noted. One more thing?”

“Yeah?”

“If you don’t want him, can I have Ghostface? I promise imma’ answer the phone.”

“Ezra, get the fuck off my phone.”

“Muah! Bye!”

˚. ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~♡ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

WHEN THE NEXT DAY COMES, Asael becomes antsy, glad for it to be Friday, but not glad that she admittedly has some apologizing to do. She knew that an apology was in order for her as well, but she wasn’t necessarily holding her breath on that one—especially when the person who picked up Megumi was the nanny and not Toji.

She knew it was now the weekend and that meant leaving behind issues at work, but she couldn’t help being the emotional person she was, constantly stressing on issues she wished she could immediately smooth over. She now stood within the full body mirror in her bedroom, eyeing herself as she was her own constant critic.

Her strawberry hair flowed around her face in layers, falling to her mid back. She wore a black mini skirt, the bottom of her ass poking out as paired it with thinly strapped matching heels, black baby tee and her red hello kitty purse. She leaned within the mirror as she lined her lips with brown liner, fluffy cat-eye lashes hanging above her previously darkened water line.

Ezra came behind her, playfully whistling, “So you are tryna’ get that card swiped tonight, huh?”

“Can I just be a girl that wants to be sexy, not because of a man?”

Ezra smirks as he tilts his head, seeing as she then mutters, “If he’ fine, then maybe.”

“Mhm, whatever. You’ ready to go?”

“Not as ready as you, you’ ready to see your man?” She teases.

Ezra leans within the wall, dreamily sighing, “I’m ready to do bad things to him. Let’s go!” He nearly drags her out of the house, preparing for an eventful night.

As they pull into function, cars line down the lot, motorbikes also grumbling along the ground as they model next to the customized vehicles. The air smells of gas, people taking pictures or showing off their most prized possessions, men and women all talking amongst each other, feeling the thrive of energy.

Asael looks around in excitement as they arrive at the car show, taking in the sight of the various vehicles and the crowd of people buzzing with excitement. From a pink Kuromi styled suped-up motorbike, to a black and white BMW E-30, tires screech under smoke as the vehicle takes off, swiveling around the parking lot almost like a video game.

They step back as cars fly past them, excited yells whooshing into the air. It’s a chaotic scene in the best way. Asael has a warm smile come to her face, feeling as if it's been a while since she’s enjoyed herself like this.

“Daddy!”

She turns as Ezra squeals, wrapping his arms around a taller man that chuckles, low waves along his head, brown skin almost matching the sweatshirt he wears. A bright smile comes to his face as he pulls Ezra into a hug, kissing his lips as he mutters within his ear.

“This is Cam,” Ezra grins against his mouth, Asael giving a soft smile as she greets, “Asael. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” he chuckles, “I don’t know too many girls that are into shit like this.”

She shakes her head, “To tell you the truth, I’m terrified of motorbikes and extremely loud cars, but they’re cool to look at, I’m just here for the ride. No pun intended.”

Cam replies amusingly, “Well by all means, you can always just chill by my car. It’s the ‘79 dodge charger.”

She takes a deep breath, nodding her head as she hides the jump her body wants to make every time someone loudly revs their engine. It’s not that she was afraid, her mind just thought of the worst when seeing these vehicles and bikes mindlessly racing one another, the fear of being hurt more concerning to her than anything—that definitely came from being around kids all day.

When she looks to his car again, seeing the multicolored headlights, she then compliments, “It’s fire as fuck, Cam. My chest hurts just thinking about how much you spent on customizing it.”

He sighs, “It was fasho’ a splurge, but the shit was worth every penny. She purrs like a kitten when she's revved up."

Ezra lets out a scoff as he rolls his eyes, “Yeah, yeah. Keep bragging about your car like it's your new boyfriend or something."

“How do you know I wasn’t talking about you?” Cam replies, wrapping his hands around Ezra’s waist, tugging him forward. They both laugh as they pull themselves into a kiss, and for the first time, Asael feels like the third wheel. Times like these made her wish she did have someone to romantically entertain, it made her feel a little lonely.

She clears her throat as she mutters to them, “I’m uh… gonna go find something to eat,” giving a weak smile as she waves, giving them no time to reply as she’s already searching for a food truck.

The music they play along the lot keeps her company as she takes pictures of cars she likes, too anxiety filled to actually talk to any of their owners. Most of the men had women who glared deeply at her, almost hissing as she passed by. She was starting to feel insecure for her outfit choice.

As Asael walks down the line, she makes her way to the small bar they have within the event, ordering a crown vanilla and coke mixture, taking light sips as she continues walking around. Her eyes slowly catch the attention of a handsome, caramel complexioned man who takes pictures of a custom challenger, headlights royal blue with a blower engine plummeting atop of the hood.

Okay, this was it. She lets out a deep breath as she compliments, “Nice car.”

The man looks up as he hears her compliment, his eyes roaming over her with appreciation. He smiles, clearly enjoying the attention.

"Thanks,” he leans against the hood of the car, crossing his arms over his chest, “She's my pride and joy. Been working on her for months. You’ showing off a ride here?”

“Oh, no. I’m uh—third wheeling my best friend,” she lightly laughs, “Decided to walk around by myself before they started hooking up in the car.”

The man chuckles at her response, "Ah, so you're in need of some company tonight,” he replies, looking her up and down with a slightly cocky smile.

She shrugs, already feeling slightly buzzed from her drink, “Maybeee,” she hums, “Unless you already have a passenger princess.”

The man smirks at her response, clearly enjoying the banter. He takes a step closer, leaning his hip against the car and looking down at her as he replies, “Nah, no passenger princess... yet."

Her tipsy aura has her feeling giddy, nodding her head as she agrees, “You seem to have good taste in cars and women.”

Just as she thinks there’s a possible connection between them, she turns her head to find the sound of people yelling, and her entire physique comes to a stop. It’s as if the hairs on her body stand up— instantly recognizing that aura from a mile away.

On the other side of the lot, the familiar neck tattoo filled her eyes, watching as he leaned on the seat of a Suzuki GSX-R750 street bike, cigarette within his mouth as his low voice sexily laughed about whatever conversation he was having. Her blood could’ve boiled as she watched him clasp palms with another man, dabbing him up as her eyes noticed something retract from his palm, now successfully within the other guy's hand. This had to be a joke.

“Can you uh…gimme a second?” She turns towards the guy she was previously talking to, giving an angelic smile.

She knew that this would be her second time being in this man’s business, but now she actually had a reason to spazz out. She can still feel the effects of her drink, knowing that’s another reason why she’s so adamant on going over there to knock his head off of his shoulders. Maybe she should’ve just headed back over to Ezra.

But as her hips twist with a vengeance and her heels thump along the ground to draw herself closer, maybe not.

A glare burns into the sockets of Toji as she stomped towards him, unable to hold her emotions back as she says, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Toji catches the familiarity of her voice as he looks up, his eyes meeting hers. A smug expression immediately appears on his face as he recognizes her, he lets out a lazy chuckle.

“You look pretty as fuck,” he tells her, his voice deep and gravelly. The statement has her face go blank for a brief second as he takes a drag of his cigarette, “Who are you tryna’ show out for?” exhaling slowly as he looks her up and down.

She realizes once again that she’s outside of her job atmosphere, pulling at the mini-mini skirt. The last person she expected to see was one of her students' parents, especially the one she’d just previously had beef with. Now he was looking at her in a way she hadn’t seen before. She wanted to punch him. It also made her very, very, horny. What the hell was happening to her?

“Are you serious, Toji?”

“Say my name again.”

“Bastard. What the hell are you doing here? What the fuck are you even doing? And don’t play dumb, I just saw you slide some shit over to the guy that walked away,” she fires off, his smug look making her want to jump atop of him and elbow him in the face.

“You’ watching me now?”

“You’re not very fuckin’ discreet!”

He shrugs, “I’m just showing off my car and bike.”

“Don’t play fucking dumb. I could call CPS on your stupid ass right fucking now!”

He pulls the cigarette from his lips, smoke pulling from his nose as he replies, “Don’t be a pain in the ass.”

“Don’t be a pain in the ass? Nigg—ooh!” she exclaims, watching as that makes him raise an eyebrow, a smirk coming along his lips as she continues, “You can’t be serious. I have to be immensely drunk if you’re gonna sit here and justify being a goddamn plug while you have a child. Where is your fuckin’ son, Toji?”

“You think I’d have him in this type of environment? Don’t fuckin’ play with me,” he almost sneers, Asael crossing her arms as he states, “I’m not an idiot. He’s with the nanny, her son comes over during the weekends to hang with Megumi. Got some other shit you wanna scream at me about?”

“I’ll give you five more things I wanna scream about!—“

“Hey, Zenin. I got you a beer like you wanted,” a girl comes beside him, interrupting the conversation as her green eyes stare over Asael, blonde hair and pale skin shining under the light of the lot.

A brief scan over Asael comes from the girl, jealously feigning her body as she narrows her eyes at her, “Who’s this?”

“This is my son’s teacher, Ms. Honey.”

“Ms. Honey?” The girl raises an eyebrow.

“That’s what I said. Her ass is nowhere near sweet,” he replies, Asael grimacing as he opens the bottle with his teeth effortlessly, the cap popping along the ground.

“Funny,” she squints her eyes, “It’s just Asael,” she corrects.

“A teacher,” it’s like this girl's eyes move without her permission, scanning Asael for the second time before she then states, “I’d never be able to tell.”

It’s shady, yup. It’s shady. Asael holds her breath as she asks, “Am I supposed to be wearing a cardigan or something?”

“To cover up that attention seeking piece of fabric you call a skirt? Maybe,” she gives Asael a dismissive once-over, still continuously sizing her up.

Her insults are corny, not enough to actually piss off Asael. The same way she attempted to dismiss her, she turns to Toji as she sighs, “I need to talk to you.”

“Now?” He leans himself forward, pushing off of the bike as he comes closer to her with a frown, “It can’t wait?”

“Do you think I give a fuck about your play-thing? I don’t. Yes, now.”

“Who are you calling a play-thing, bitch?” the girl sneers.

Asael’s eyes could’ve jumped out of her sockets, head swiftly tilting as she narrows her eyes, “Who are you calling a bitch, bitch?”

The thought of two women fighting over…essentially him, was an entertaining thought. But seeing Asael’s anger for himself and knowing he could handle her just fine, he wasn’t too sure if a girl he’d only been flirting with for the last hour or so had the same capability— or she was just a little too big for her own bridges. He also didn’t want to see his son’s teacher get into a fight.

“What’s your problem?” The girl scoffs, as if she didn’t start this conflict herself.

“What you’ mean? You were just talking all this hot shit, now I’m with whatever! I’m on that type of time!” She looks around Toji who’s hovered in front of her, hands shoved in his pockets as he mutters, “Chill.”

“How about you stop being so ghetto and act like a professional, Ms. Honey?”

“Ghetto?” she blinks, a crowd forming as Asael becomes visibly pissed off, “Who the fuck are you calling ghetto? I’ll show you ghetto, the fuck!” Now feeling racially attacked at the girl's words, Toji now steps forward as he grips for Asael’s waist, seeing as she’s inches away from hemming the girl up.

"Knock it the fuck off,” he snaps, his voice firm as he holds her back.

“Don’t tell me shit! Tell your hoes to watch they’ fuckin’ mouth! Talking about ‘ghetto’, bitch you don’t even know me!” She lunges forward again, the girl flinching back a bit, Toji gripping Asael harder, glare along his face as he’s now irritated.

His eyes hardened as he felt in her body that she hadn’t relaxed in the slightest. He knew she hadn’t been drinking enough to become belligerent, but he could tell her anger was something that wasn’t a simple passover.

His voice was now low as he firmly pulled her jaw up to meet his face, snapping at her in a way she hadn’t expected him to, "You're not getting into a fight over this. You need to calm down."

Toji then turns towards the girl as he says, “Go.”

“What?” She frowns, “Go?” She repeats.

“You heard me. Fuck off,” he tells her.

The girl rolls her eyes, “Whatever. You two can fucking have each other,” walking off as she throws her beer along the ground.

The moment she leaves, Asael feels herself still shaking, ripping herself away from Toji as she grunts, “I didn’t need your goddamn help.”

He instantly tugs her back, large hand having a deadly hold along her wrist, “Oh yeah? Then why was your little ass about to start a fight in a damn parking lot?" he snaps, his eyes narrowing as he looks down at her.

“You think I was gonna let a white girl call me ghetto? Have you lost your damn mind? Like I’m just acting out for no reason,” she sneers, yanking herself back, a game of tug-o-war at this point.

Toji actually becomes pissed off as he commands, “Get in the car.”

She looks over to the Dodge Durango Hellcat, engine humming, wrapped a shiny black with blood red headlights shining across and below the vehicle.

“What? I’m not getting in your fuckin’ car.”

“Woman. Get in the goddamn car.”

They’re now both staring at one another, neither of them making a move. He nods his head, a humorless smirk coming along his mouth, giving her a couple more seconds. Nothing.

He then leans over and opens the passenger door of his car, turning back as he firmly wraps his fingers along Asael’s throat and yanks her towards him. She yelps as he shoves her down into the seat, removing his hand from her neck as he brings his face close to hers, “Put your legs inside, cause I’m seconds away from tearing your ass up in this back seat.”

With the mouth she had on her, his was worse. She was learning that. Her parted lips shut tightly, face pulling back from his as she felt her cheeks go hot. She quickly pulled her legs inside, jumping as the door slammed next to her.

Now sitting with her arms crossed, he gets in on the drivers side, the silence between the two now being filled with her heavy breathing. Toji removes the leather jacket he wears, inked up arms flexing as he leans back against the seat, hovering his hand over the lighter within his car as he ignites another cigarette.

He takes a slow drag, the smoke filling the space between them as it’s still silent. He eyes her for a moment.

"Are you good now?” he asks, his voice level but still hinting at irritation.

“I’m calm,” she says flatly.

"Like hell you're calm. You nearly got into a fight over some random ass girl's words,” he mutters, exhaling smoke from his nostrils.

She turns her head, “Do I need to repeat why I was initially upset? It wasn’t about her. I don’t give a fuck about that hoe. I’m mad about what she said.”

Toji sighs, taking another drag from his cigarette. He glances over at her, studying her angry expression as he tells her, "You gotta learn to let shit like that roll off your back, baby," he says, his tone slightly softer, “Getting all worked up and tryna’ fight isn't going to prove anything."

“Oh? Says the motherfucker with the anger of a hornet? Just like you don’t need my advice, I don’t need a fuckin’ father.”

“How are you such a sweet thing to kids, yet act like this right now? Do you always get this pissed off?”

“No. Probably that damn Crown I drank. I don’t know,” she admits, the alcohol within her system feeling like two cups of coffee, her leg immensely shaking as she feels slightly frustrated.

Toji glances at her leg, noticing how much it's shaking. He reaches out, setting a hand on her thigh and giving it a squeeze to stop the movement.

"You're going to shake the whole damn car," he mutters, his hand still resting on her leg.

The touch makes her leg stop shaking, a chill running up her spine at his rough hands. Her arms soften as they’re still crossed, looking out the window as the event continues to play out, sounds of cheering coming from the other side of the lot as cars do donuts.

She looks back towards him as she mutters, “My bad.”

He notices the way she tenses up when he touches her, the subtle shiver that runs up her spine. It's a reaction that he finds intriguing.

"Your bad? That's all I get?” he asks, thumb slowly tracing small circles on her leg, almost absentmindedly.

“I’m not apologizing for almost giving that bitch a hands on tonsil removal, but I didn’t mean to make a scene,” she says, making that her version of an apology.

Toji lets out a low chuckle, the sound gruff. He continues to trace circles on her leg, his touch light yet firm as he sarcastically replies, “That's real mature of you.”

“If some asshole came up to you talking shit, you would’ve had his heart placed within his prostate. Don’t even lie,” she turns her head towards him.

"You're damn right I would," he roughly replies, his hand sliding higher up her thigh, his fingers squeezing the flesh there.

“Don’t you think that’s hypocritical?” She raises an eyebrow.

The moment after she asks the question, she lightly shifts her thigh away from him as the buzz of her drink has her core throbbing, feeling the secretion creating in her between her legs. Her hips nearly shook at his touch. She did her best to hide it.

He lets out a chuckle at her question, noticing the slight movement of her knee. His hand moves again, this time resting on her inner thigh. He can feel the warmth of her skin.

"I never said I wasn't a hypocrite," he replies, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. His thumb continues to slide across her skin, teasingly close to the hem of her skirt.

“Then…”

She didn’t mean to do it, she really didn’t. But damn, she couldn’t help it. The quietest gasp left her lips as his finger shifted right above the now drenched fabric of her panties, her entire body jumping at the simple touch. Her fingers yanked for the car handle, opening it up as she insulted, “You aren’t a hypocrite, you’re a fucking bastard!” Getting out of the car as she slams the door, mind fuzzy, legs shaking and hot as she makes her way back over to Ezra and Cam.

Toji watches in amusement as she jumps out of the car, shaking his head with a cocky smirk on his face. He shrugs to himself, leaning back against the seat and taking another drag from his cigarette.

“Hey? What the hell happened?” Ezra asks, seeing the look along his best friend's face, hands coming from around Cam's waist.

“Almost got into a fight, found Toji here, almost got my coochie touched in the car by Toji, and now I’m here, telling you!”

Ezra’s head nearly spins, “Wha?! Huh?!”

“Okay, quick run down. I was talking to this cutie with a challenger before I saw Toji in my peripheral doing…I don’t know, illegal shit with this guy. I said oh, so this is what we’re doing? He said it’s not a big deal. I said you have a son?! He brushed me off. Some girl walks up and sizes me up, we get into it and she ended up calling me ‘ghetto’ Toji physically put my ass in the car cause I was about to show her what the fuck ghetto was. He calmed me down and he was rubbing my thigh and I got really horny so I jumped out and—now I’m here?” She says the last part softer, Cam unable to hold his laugh, causing her to whine, “It’s not funny!”

“Fighting at a car lot, friend? Might be ghetto,” Ezra giggles, Asael letting out a sigh as she places her hands along her hips.

“You can say that, I don’t care. She couldn’t though. But seriously, you guys suck. I need another drink,” Asael grumbles.

“To pump you up for your next battle?”

“Fuck you. Imma’ smoke instead.”

“Better go ask your man then.”

“I will hit you!”

As Ezra dramatically pulls her into a hug to comfort her, she can’t help the soft laugh that comes from her lips. She just hopes this night becomes better before it ends. Asael was unsuccessful in all of the promises to herself, talking to Toji about Megumi, even getting that hot guy's number. All she wanted to do was ball up in a corner and cry at this point, but instead she sat atop of Cam’s car with the both of them, watching as people swerved around the lot with their own vehicles. It was now time for the motorbike show, large custom bikes revving loudly as they began flying past their bodies, Asael’s hair lightly flies back at the haste of the bikes.

Her eyes catch the scarred lip as he pulls in front of the car she sits upon, saying nothing else as he states, “Get on.”

She raises her eyebrow, looking him up and down as she frowns, “Excuse me? I’m not getting on that.”

Ezra’s eyes could’ve popped out his head, glancing over at the man as he said, “This is Toji?”

“Ezra, not now,” Asael grits her teeth, knowing he was shocked by the attractiveness of this man.

“C’mon, pretty. I don’t do all that stubborn shit,” He revs the engine of his bike, the sound filling the air as he rests his arms on the handlebars.

“Asael is afraid of bikes,” Ezra smirks, Cam wrapping his arms around him, purposely instigating the conversation as Asael glares.

Toji raises an eyebrow at Ezra's comment, turning his head to look at Asael, “Cute. Is that true?”

“Fuck you,” she says to him, hearing as that makes him darkly chuckle. When he tosses the helmet to her, she reflexively catches it before he states, “You got a couple more seconds of my patience before I put you on this bike like I put your ass in the car.”

She raises an eyebrow, “Is that a threat?”

“I make promises.”

She narrows her eyes at him, once again calling his bluff as she disagrees, “You’re not gonna do that—“ she begins, her mouth nearly dropping open as he sucks his teeth, locking the bike onto the ground as he begins removing himself from it.

She shrieks lightly, “Okay! Damn. Shit. I’m going,” standing from the car, hearing as Ezra and Cam giggle. She goes closer to the bike as she asks, “Where’s your helmet? Why’d you only give me one?”

“That is my helmet, stop stalling and get on.”

“It’s gonna ruin my hair,” she pouts, Toji snatching the helmet out of her hands as he replies, “Then get on a pray we don’t crash and your head doesn’t explode,” causing her to pull herself back, eyes wide as she shrieks, “What?! Toji!” She then whines.

His full on laugh is deep, sexy. He actually found her entirely adorable. He slides his fingers around her hips, lifting her leg onto the opposite side of the large bike as he murmurs, “Your hair is gonna be fine,” reflexively pulling her skirt that rolls up, eyes flickering to the hello kitty panties she wears. Yeah, okay.

Her heart stammers in her chest as she gets on the back, Ezra and Cam whistling out, “Nice ass!” as she has to arch herself a bit to comfortably sit behind him. As he now sits in front of her she immediately places her hands along his stomach, feeling the hardness of his abdomen, her fingers shaking as she does so.

She mutters to him, “Please don’t kill me,” a seriousness coming to her voice as she’s actually terrified.

Toji can feel her fear as she wraps her arms around his stomach. He chuckles softly, a faint smirk on his lips.

"We’d both die if you wanna be technical,” he chuckles, Asael closing her eyes as she presses her face into his back with a whimper at the thought. When he sees she’s genuinely terrified, he brings his hand backwards, lightly patting the skin close to her ass as he soothes, “Relax, baby," his voice low and rough, "You’re good. Just hold on tight,” bringing both his hands to the front, revving the monstrously loud engine of the bike.

“C’mon, Zenin! I didn’t put five-bands on this race for you to play around!” A voice calls next to him, another street bike braggingly revving their exhaust.

Her heart nearly dropped to her ass when all the other bikes began revving their engines. She’s expecting some type of circus act at this point, spinning around like maniacs and possibly killing her in the process. When she feels the bike begin to move, it takes off before she has time to mentally prepare, squeezing herself tighter around his torso as she clutches her eyes shut, pressing her cheek into the broadness of his back as she faintly shrieks.

Toji chuckles as she clings to him as if her life depends on it as he asks before it gets too loud, "You good back there?"

“Mm—mm,” she shakes her head, eyes still tightly closed as she squeals, feeling as the bike increases in speed, swerving through the lot, snapping past other bikes, gas within her nostrils as engines plummet and roar within her ears.

Toji can feel her shaking her head, her fear still evident as she buries her face into his back. He doesn't let up on the bike, pushing it faster than necessary. He can feel her body tremble against him, her cries only making him want to go faster. He swerves, making a sharp turn that causes her to cling to him even tighter, her mind going back to him saying her head might explode. What was she going to tell her students?

“Damn, pretty.” She can hear him chuckle lowly, gripping the material of his shirt as she trembles softly, “Don’t be a dick.”

He leans back slightly, shifting his weight and making her have to cling to him harder. He keeps the bike moving fast, zig-zagging through the other bikers.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You're safe."

His voice is gruff yet somehow soothing. It feels like for once he’s not purposely being an ass, or constantly making jokes to rile her up. He feels genuine, knowing how terrified she actually is. As she leans against his shoulder, she peeks an eye open, her hair flurrying through the wind as she sees other bikes trying to keep up with him, going faster than anyone on the street. Her arms slightly relax as they still keep a firm hold on him, clutching as they lean to turn, a tickle coming in her stomach at the movement. A hesitant giggle pulls from her lips.

From all the crying she had been doing before, she could barely hear the music that came from his bike. Her mind focuses on the song, ‘Yam’ by Yeat plays, a curse yelling out from the biker beside them as they flurry past him like lightning.

Toji feels her arms relax slightly, her body responding to the movement of the bike. It was almost as if she was starting to enjoy the ride. A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips when he hears her giggle. He continues to weave through the other bikes, pushing the bike to go faster. Expertly maneuvering through the lot, Asael's hair flies wildly behind her, her body finally starting to fully relax.

"You’ getting used to it?" He calls over the wind.

She nods her head, softly replying within his ear, “I’m okay.”

It was as if the moment she said that, Asael shrieked as he floored it, another biker beside him as she felt her body falling backwards, looking to see as the front of the bike came off of the ground. Although she wanted to shit herself, she could admit that it was a cool sight to see.

As the front of the bike came off the ground, Toji let out a low chuckle at Asael's shriek. He could feel her body tense up behind him, her arms wrapping around him even tighter. He continued to control the bike, keeping it in balance as it rode on just the back wheel.

“Still scared?” He briefly turns his head towards her.

She rolls her eyes, “Just keep doing this cool shit!”

She giggles as he takes off in front of the other biker, engines nearly bursting their eardrums as they race one another. Asael yells out in excitement, Toji howling as the other biker struggles to keep up with them. In this moment her body feels like air, her hands sliding up to Toji’s chest as she places her face within the back of his neck, eyes closed as she relaxes against his scent.

His heart actually races as he feels her hands slide up his chest, her face burying into the back of his neck. He smirks, enjoying the feeling of her body pressed against him. The roar of the engine and the sound of the other bikes fill the air, but all he can focus on is her. He weaves the bike through the other riders, leaning into each turn with skill and precision. He can feel her breath on his neck, the warmth of her body sending a jump to his dick—he must've been losing his mind.

The race continues, Toji and the other biker neck to neck, engines screaming as they dart back and forth across the lot. Asael's heart beats louder than it ever has, the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She can feel Toji's heart pounding as well, the vibrations of the bike and his body making her cling to him even tighter.

Eventually, Toji pushes the bike just a bit harder, pulling ahead of the other biker. As they cross the finish line, he grins, feeling the thrill of victory coursing through his veins.

“That’s five grand on me, bitch!” He howls out, the other biker raising his middle finger to them as they both laugh within the air.

Asael rolls her eyes, giggling nonetheless at the cursing between the two men. They finally slow down, her hands loosening from around him as she immediately checks for her hair, still feeling her makeup intact as she adjusts her skirt, strawberry hair layering around her face loosely.

He smirks as his eyes take the sight of her adjusting her hair and skirt. Her red hair frames her face in an almost angelic manner, even after the wild ride they just had.

"Looks like you and your hair survived," he teases, a hint of amusement in his voice.

She brushes him off, “Whatever. Do I look okay? Do I have wind hair?” She asks, genuine concern in her voice.

He chuckles, watching her as she fusses over her appearance. He turns around slightly, his eyes roaming over her hair and face.

"You look fine. A little messy, yeah, but still pretty as hell," his voice rough yet sincere, coming forward as he pulls her hair out her face that sticks to her lips, the contrast of her caramel skin and colored hair, the lights of the lot making her almost ethereal.

The comment makes her cheeks grow hot, her legs coming off of the bike as she nods, pulling her hair behind her ear nervously. She then hears Ezra squealing, coming as he wraps his arms around her, spinning her around as it causes her to giggle as he asks, “Did you have fun?!”

Asael smiles, “I did. It was cool, I can’t lie.”

“Good. I’m glad you didn’t kill my friend, don’t know what I’d do without her,” he sighs, “Well, it’s getting pretty late. You ready to go?”

Asael doesn’t even realize it’s almost three in the morning. She looks back to Toji as she realizes she still hadn’t had the conversation regarding his relationship with Megumi. She nods her head as she says, “Yeah, uh. Actually— you guys go. I need to talk to him.”

Ezra frowns, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, go end your night with your lil’ boyfriend that’s so madly in love with you. I’ll be fine, promise,” she smiles softly.

Toji watches the exchange between them, his arms still resting on the handlebars of the bike. His expression is neutral, but there's a flicker of curiosity in his eyes as he glances at Asael.

Ezra hesitates, looking between Asael and Toji. Her words reassure him, and he finally nods, “You know I love you?” wrapping his arms around her as Asael hums, “I know, I love me too,” giggling as she teases, “Kidding. You’re my heart. I’ll call you tomorrow,” she blows kisses, both Ezra and Cam waving as they make their way back to the car.

Asael then turns to Toji as she says, “So, uh. I actually wanted to talk about Megumi. Is that okay?”

Toji’s eyes flicker, a stoicism returning back to his face as he says, “Yeah. C’mere, I wanna show you something anyways.”

Asael frowns, “If it’s in your pants, I don’t want it,” she crosses her arms, hearing as that makes a huff of a laugh fall from his lips.

Toji smirks at her comment, his eyes flashing with amusement. He shakes his head, his voice low as he replies, "I'm not trying to show you my dick. Come here."

Her eyebrows raise, arms crossing as she comes forward. He nearly rolls his eyes, taking her small palm within his large one as he pulls her towards his car. He throws his bike’s keys to one of his friends, helping her back into his truck as they take off out of the lot. The city looks pretty underneath the street lights, Asael rubbing the sides of her arms as she lets out a breath, “Where are we going?”

Toji glances at her as he drives, his eyes flickering over her figure as she rubs the sides of her arms. He notices the city lights reflecting off her skin, the girl more beautiful than he could ever imagine.

"You'll see," he says, his voice cryptic. He keeps his gaze focused on the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel firmly.

“Oh god, are they never gonna find my body? Did I make the wrong choice?” She asks, hearing that makes him chuckle, rummaging through his car compartment for his lighter, his attractiveness sticking out like a sore thumb as he drives with one hand.

"Nah," he replies, finding his lighter and igniting a cigarette between his lips, “I said you were safe with me. I meant that.”

They pull in what looks to be a garage, her eyebrows furrowing deeper at the navy blue building. She watches as he steps out, coming around as he opens the door for her, eyes still searching hesitantly around his face.

“I have pepper spray, gorilla,” she tells him, scanning over his large figure. That makes him laugh once again as he chuckles, “You’ve got jokes forreal. C’mon.”

She takes a deep breath, trying to keep up with his long strides as he’s taller than her, Toji opening the door to reveal a completely different idea of what she had in mind. It was similar to an art studio, having a bed and a projector playing music on a loop in one corner of the room, the other side having canvases, paint splashes, rugs along the floor, seeing this is where someone took their time to discover their creativity. The pictures amongst the canvases were women’s silhouettes, landscape creations, colors and different ideas all amongst her eyes.

Asael walks slowly inside as she looks around, turning to him as she asks, “You draw?”

Toji's eyes flicker as he watches her take in the studio, the surprise evident on her face. He takes a drag of his cigarette, leaning against the doorframe as she walks around the room, taking in the various artworks on display.

"Yeah," he says simply. He watches her as she stops in front of some of his more recent pieces, his eyes studying her expression carefully.

“So that’s where Megumi gets it from…” she hums.

Her body comes to a halt as she sees another wall. The pictures are familiar to her eyes, every single drawing Megumi made at school was within this wall, including the spider-man one he’d made not too long ago. A guilt almost hits her within the chest, crossing her arms as she mutters, “Shit,” to herself.

Toji watches as her eyes settle on a particular wall, filled with drawings that are unmistakably Megumi's. A mixture of pride and sadness flickers across his face, knowing that his son is far from a typical child. He stubs out the cigarette in his hand, his voice low as he speaks, “Kid’s obsessed with drawing. Always scribbling something."

It hits her like a ton of bricks. Maybe Toji wasn’t the white picket fence father, but she could see just how much he loved his son. She hated to be wrong or even admit to it, but it was time to face the music.

Asael sighs, “I…I feel bad about the first conversation we had,” she admits.

Toji raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. He leans back against the wall, his arms crossed over his broad chest as he eyes her.

"You mean the one where you called me a bad father?”

Asael’s arms drop, eyes narrowing as she says, “You know that’s not what I said, Toji.”

Toji's expression remains stoic, his eyes fixed on hers. He pushes off the wall, coming closer to her, his steps slow and deliberate.

"Ah, right, I forgot. Potentially bad father," he replies, his voice heavy with derision. He comes right in front of her, towering over her small frame as he looks down at her.

“What was I supposed to think? I mean, I never met you. You ignored my emails, my phone calls. I didn’t have anything bad to say about Megumi. He’s a sweetheart, I couldn’t ask for a better student. I just wanted to know where he came from. What made him tick. Maybe it was wrong of me to assume you had no type of relationship, but for your nanny to say you’re a ‘busy man’ and rarely spend time with Megumi, it made me concerned,” she sighs, admitting this as she sits along the bed, head tilting up as she stares over his towering frame.

Toji listens to her words, his jaw clenching slightly. Her concern for Megumi is evident, but her assumptions about his relationship with his son irritate him. He lets out a scoff, looking down at her seated form on the bed.

"I may not spend as much time with the kid as I should. Life's tough and I do my best to provide for him. But that doesn’t mean I'm a goddamn bad father," he mutters, his voice low and rough.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” her voice goes soft. “I…” she begins, taking a deep breath as she continues to speak, “I didn’t have my father when I was younger. I don’t have a good relationship with my mother, and with that, I vowed to give my child the love and attention I never received…until I found out that I was infertile, and that I’ll never be able to conceive my own children. Maybe that’s why I love my job so much, maybe that’s why I take these things to heart. But that doesn’t make it right,” a weight comes off of her chest, embarrassingly admitting her insecurities.

Toji listens to her, his expression stoic as she admits her past. He can sense the vulnerability in her voice, the weight of her insecurities. His arms unfold from his chest as he apologizes, "I’m really sorry to hear that, Asael. I appreciate the way you care for Megumi. I can also understand why you…can be the way you are at times, life hasn’t been a walk in the park for me either," he admits sharply. He pauses for a moment, his eyes roaming over her face, "But it doesn’t give me an excuse to be a dick or use my trauma against others."

“I’m not a dick,” she brings her eyes up to him, “Megumi clings to me like I’m his damn momma, it makes me almost want to cry at times,” she laughs hoarsely, “I really do care about him, he’s different from my other kids.”

Toji's eyes soften a bit, his expression losing some of its usual stoicism. He can hear the sincerity in her voice, the genuine affection she has for Megumi. He lets out a sigh, running a hand through his dark hair.

"Yeah, the kid’s like a magnet," he admits, "Damned if I know why, though."

“Because he can’t stick to you all the time. Listen, I’ll leave you alone about him. I just…please be sweet to him, you don’t seem like the type of father to be all mushy and shit, but it makes him smile. Little things go a long way with children, and at this age they need that affection,” she runs her fingers through her hair, sighing out, “He loves you, and you love him. I can see that.”

Toji listens to her words, his eyes studying her face. There’s a flicker of something in his gaze. He lets out a huff, crossing his arms across his chest again.

"You think I don’t think about how I haven’t been there for him as much as I should be? But you gotta understand, I do the best I can with the hand I’ve been dealt."

“Have you raised him alone since he was born?”

Toji’s eyes narrow at her question, her curiosity evident. There’s a moment of hesitation before he responds, his voice low again.

"Yeah, pretty much," he admits. He sucks his teeth, his eyes fixed on the floor, “His mother…well, she’s not around. And I don’t have much of a family to lean on, so it’s just been us most of his life."

It makes more sense to her why he is the way he is, understanding that his constant abandonment could be him wanting better for his child than he had, or his own traumas relaying over.

She sighs, “You’re doing amazing for what you can. He’s truly a little ball of sunshine,” she giggles, “Just wish he’d talk more.”

Toji’s expression softens a little at her words, a hint of gratitude in his eyes. He lets out a huff, shrugging his shoulders, "He's always been a quiet kid. But he's smart, always has been. Got his damn mother's brains.”

As silence falls between them, her eyes come up as she then hears him say, “I’m sorry.”

She tilts her head, “For?”

Toji sighs, his usually impassive eyes meeting hers. There’s a flicker of hesitation in them, a vulnerability that he rarely shows.

"For being a dick to you, I guess," he mutters gruffly, "You were just looking out for Megumi, I can’t hold that against you."

“Ms. Honey says that adding, ‘I guess’ to an apology doesn’t necessarily make it sincere,” she tells him, not wanting to put her teacher hat on, but unable to help herself as she gives him a soft laugh.

Toji scoffs, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. He leans against the wall, his arms still crossed over his chest.

"And you got that from your big ass teaching handbook, huh?" he retorts, his voice holding a hint of mockery.

She shrugs, “I’m more street smart than anything. But seriously, I gave you a real apology, so I expect you to get on your knees and kiss my feet or something.”

Toji laughs at her comment, his expression amused. He pushes off the wall, taking a step towards her, "Kiss your feet, huh?" he repeats, his voice low, "You're not asking for much, are you?"

“Mmm, this one of my smaller requests,” she giggles, trying to mask the nervousness she feels around him, crossing her legs as she plays with the end of her skirt.

A shocked laugh comes from her as he pulls for her legs, lifting them to the sides of her as he has a hold of her ankles, lowering his mouth as he kisses the side of her foot. He raises an eyebrow as his gruff voice calls, “Yeah?”

The giggling comes from still being slightly tipsy and now face full-on hot, nodding her head as she amusingly replies, “T—that’s a start.”

“Oh, now I got you’ stuttering,” he drawls. He removes her heels off of her feet, beginning to suck the skin of her ankles, dragging his lips down her legs as he goes between the both of them, creating quick pecks as he latches the skin into his mouth with a popping sound. Her giggling subsides as this causes her hips to raise, her fingers digging into the sheets as she presses her mouth into itself, a line of fire being created within her body.

She then clears her throat as she dumbly asks, “U—uh, did that hurt?” She refers to the tattoo along his neck.

Toji’s eyes flicker as she asks about his tattoo, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as his vision bores into her own. He keeps his lips along her ankles, "Nah, didn't hurt too bad," his eyes roaming over her form hungrily.

“Mine hurt like hell,” she refers to her own, the rose nearly taking over the left side of her neck, trying to keep conversation as she feels herself trembling—why was she trembling? Has it really been this long?

"Yeah? Tell me where else you got’ ink,” he wants her to keep talking to hear the shake in her voice, now hovering his face above hers, keeping his hand wrapped around one of her ankles, slowly beginning to lift it along his shoulder.

“U—uh, something on my chest…something on my hip…Little drunk ideas at the time,” her tipsy aura had faded, soberness knocking her in the head as she soaked in the fact that she was…alone with him.

Toji's eyes darken at her admission, his gaze traveling along her curves, imagining the tattoos hiding beneath her clothes. The thought makes something primal stir within him, the desire to know...to see. His other hand slowly traces along her thigh, tips of his fingers gently grazing up her inner thigh as it halts right over her panties, Asael’s mouth slightly parting as she sucks in a breath. His mouth parts along with hers as a dark chuckle leaves his lips, "Just those two, huh?"

“Probably more,” she says in a softer tone, her own hand raising to his shoulder, gripping lightly along his shirt to stop her hands from shaking. He leans forward more, letting their lips just barely touch each other. His fingers brush over her clit, rubbing against the fabric down to her opening as he hears just how wet she is, dropping his eyes down as he grunts, “Ooh, fuck,” Asael gasping along his mouth, her face probably as red as her hair at this point.

She moves her hand up to the back of his hair as her hips tremble, gripping the dark mane as she gasps out, “Toji—“ unable to get out her words as he roughly kisses her. Their tongues fall deeper into one another as they filthily make out, Asael’s open mouth dragging out a moan, eyes rolling to the back of her head as he practically fucks her mouth, head spinning as she desperately kisses him back.

He delves his fingers beneath her panties, Asael gripping for his shoulders, breathless as she whimpers, “F—fuck, just—fuck.”

“Wanted your pussy around my fingers the minute I seen you in this fuckin’ skirt,” he grunts within her ear, Asael whimpering deeper at that, feeling as he sinks his middle and ring finger past her opening, shuddering out a whine at his voice. Her skirt shoves up to her hips as she leans into the bed, unable to fight as he groans at her opening squelching from how aroused she is.

His fingers continue to work their way deeper into her, teasing her clit with each stroke of his thumb while keeping her legs pinned open with one hand. Their voices become muffled as they share a mix of moans, grunts, and gasps, lost in the intense pleasure of their mutual pleasurable experience.

It’s like she’d gone blind, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she gripped for his hair, his mouth parting open a his fingers fell deeper into her, catching her mouth with his as she groaned, “Toji,” she can’t stop herself, whining peevishly within his mouth, listening as her opening gushes, legs trembling as she pleads for his mercy, nearly killing her without doing much of anything to her.

As Asael's walls tighten around his fingers, signaling her impending climax, Toji presses his thumb against her clit with increased force, “Why is this shit so fuckin’ wet,” causing her to let out a series of desperate moans and whines. He watches her face closely, enjoying the sight of her flushed features and glazed eyes as she succumbs to the pleasure storm building within her body.

“I’m gonna cum,” she gasps, pulling one of her hands down to stop his wrist, crying softly as he snatches her hand away as he grunts, “Cum all over my fuckin’ fingers.”

He slows down, leaving her aching for more. His free hand wraps around her wrist once again, preventing her from trying to stop him as he begins to thrust his fingers deep inside her core, hitting her g-spot with precision. Asael's body starts to quiver in anticipation of her impending orgasm, her body feels desperate, creating a constant state of heightened arousal that leaves her completely dependent upon him for release.

She trembles out a moan, her other hand hanging onto his shirt as his mouth envelopes over hers, grunting out, “Right there?” She nods her head, whimpering shakily, “Right there,” bringing her hand down as she pulls his wrist towards her, his fingers scathing her gummy walls, a dark chuckle pulling from his lips at that.

Feeling the desperation in her voice and seeing the need in her eyes, he pushes his fingers even deeper into her tight canal, rubbing against her g-spot with just enough pressure to send her over the edge.

Asael lets out a long, drawn-out moan, her body shaking violently as she succumbs to the waves of pleasure crashing over her. Her hand releases his shirt and comes to rest on his shoulder, providing some stability amidst the chaotic sensations coursing through her body.

Her opening spouts out her arousal, Toji’s lips upon her neck, her hand gripping for his hair as she curses out, whining as she squirts along his fingers, something she’d never done before. She trembles, “Oh shi—shittt,” crying as he spanks her for that, grunting as he pulls his face up to kiss her, Asael whimpering as she attempts to kiss him back. She’s already completely spent.

“Gonna’ cum like that on my dick?”

“Shut up.”

“Tell me.”

“Shut up. Please.”

As Asael's body shudders and shakes, releasing her pent-up frustration in hot, messy streams onto his fingers, Toji watches in satisfaction. He savors each moment of her release, feeling the warmth of her juices coating his digits as they slide against her sensitive inner walls.

He brings his mouth up to meet hers once again, capturing her lips in a bruising kiss. Their tongues dance together, exchanging saliva and taste as he pulls away slightly to grunt, "Good fuckin’ girl. Gimme’ your eyes,” he pulls her face to meet his, “You got a fuckin’ mouth on you. Gonna make you cum as many times as you pissed me off.”

“‘M sorry,” she whimpered. He then snatches her to the end of the bed, spreading her legs as his mouth attaches to her clit, shaking his head from side to side as he spreads her opening with his jaw.

His tongue laps at her wet folds hungrily, teasing her sensitive nub with delicate flicks of his tongue, sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout her entire body.

He holds her legs open with one hand, tracing patterns on her inner thighs and giving her ass a light spank. The combination of sensations sends Asael spiraling further into submission, making her completely reliant upon him for any semblance of relief.

She lies spread-eagled across the bed, her body still quivering from the intense orgasm she just experienced. Toji leans in close to her dripping entrance, his tongue working feverishly against her sensitive flesh, the mixture of wetness and heat from his mouth combined with the occasional smack to her ass sends shivers down her spine, leaving her completely vulnerable and exposed.

His eyes flick upward, gray pouring into her vision as his voice groans, “Tell me how you like your pussy ate.”

She leans her head up, breathing harshly as she grips for his hair, her own strawberry curls sticking along her warm face as she whimpers, “Put your tongue in me,” begging essentially.

Toji’s mouth is quick, sliding his tongue deep inside of her, swirling it around and teasing the sensitive walls with the tip of his tongue. He can feel the anticipation building within her, and he knows that she's on the verge of another climax.

As he continues to lap at her folds, he speaks in a deep, rumbling tone, "Your pussy is so fuckin’ pretty, baby,” he adds an extra emphasis on the word 'pretty,' making sure she knows exactly how much he appreciates her beauty both inside and out.

She nods her head, opening tightening as she listens to his mouth, head falling back onto the bed as she spreads her legs for him, “Y—you look so pretty too,” she softly compliments, hearing him chuckle, a shiver coming across her body from the rumble of his amusement.

Her teeth digs into her lip as he spanks her again, jumping as her entire body ignites at his roughness. His hands move to cup her hips, holding her in place as he continues to eat her out. He loves watching the way she reacts to every touch and command, knowing that he has complete control over her body.

"Wait until I’m done eating you, imma’ fuck you so good," he growls menacingly, pulling his mouth away from her dripping entrance, leaving a trail of saliva in its wake as he looks up at her with a predatory glint in his eyes.

As he stands up, he grabs hold of her ankles and lifts them up towards his face, positioning her legs straight up in the air, tongue sloshing up and down as he indulges himself within her. With her legs held high in the air, he begins to slowly thrust his tongue deep inside of her slick entrance, pushing it in, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he moans, spanking her again. His hand reaches down to grab hold of her hip bone, using it for leverage as he starts to fuck her with his tongue, driving it in and out with relentless force.

She moans, music to his ears as she spreads more for him, whimpering harshly as a pout comes to her face, “I’m gonna cum all over your fuckin’ face, baby,” gasping as he bruises her skin with his palm for her sultry words. He deeply kisses her opening as he grunts, “Next time you cum it’ll be cause’ I’m fuckin’ you stupid,” he corrects her, “Better fuckin’ wait for me.”

She nods her head, pulling her thoughts together as she continues to take the pleasure he gives her, thighs shaking as she feels herself coming closer to the edge.

“Tell me you want my dick,” he gruffly commands.

“Want your dick so bad, baby, please,” she begs, spreading her legs wider, “Please,” she repeats.

He slows down the pace of his tongue, teasing her with gentle laps and light sucks before picking up speed once more, flicking his tongue against her clit relentlessly as he drives deeper into her throbbing core with each stroke of his tongue. The combination of sensations leaves Asael nearly breathless, her body trembling in anticipation.

He yanks her to the end of the bed, Asael gasping as he pulls her legs over his shoulders, lifting her up as they now stand inches away from the bed, her body held in the air by his strong arms. His hands hold the skin of her ass within his palms, Toji gently kissing her lips, pulling away to leave her mouth parted. She almost feels lonely. His tip is full and fat, smushing along her opening in a teasing way.

She places her fingers along his back as she whimpers, “Stop teasing me.”

Her mouth goes from parting to dropping open, feeling as he slowly sinks her onto the heaviness of his length, a sense of pain rupturing through her spine, overriding by a pleasure that nearly causes her to black out. Toji groans lowly within her mouth, Asael’s eyes rolling back as silence goes in between them, her legs trembling as she shockingly squirts along his abdomen, body shuddering as she groans from the unexpected orgasm.

Toji smirks arrogantly as he lifts his hand to smack along her cheek, “Keep your eyes open. Look at you, cumming from me putting my shit inside of you. You needed this, didn’t you?”

She grips for his hair, gasping against his lips as he lifts her up, dropping her back down, listening to their skin collect arousal together. Tears collect in her vision, whining mercilessly. Her body hasn’t subsided from her orgasm as he bounces her down, skin clapping together, Asael sobbing, “Oh my god, fuck.”

"Tearing your shit up so good, baby, you feel that?” He’s evil, continuously bouncing her up and down on his length, gradually increasing the intensity of their movements, battering her walls relentlessly while maintaining eye contact with her tear-streaked face.

She sniffles, nodding her head as she cries out, “I feel it.”

Toji’s teeth were nipping along her neck, leaving red trails against her skin. His hips snapped into hers with enough force to cause her to whine. Her nails dig against his skin, but it was far from uncomfortable. If anything, he liked it.

“This is what you wanted, huh?” he murmured, his hot breath against her ear. His tongue trailing against her earlobe, licking the sensitive skin.

“All you’ been thinking about.”

Asael helplessly nods her head, her eyes falling down to watch as their hips connected harshly. She breathed out, “Fuck, Toji.”

Toji’s breath hitches as he hears his name fall from her lips. It was a sound he could definitely get used to. His name was like a melody. It was a sweet song leaving her lips, hearing her say his name was like music to his ears.

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth.” He warned, sucking softly on her skin, biting down just enough to leave a mark.

“Thought you liked a lil’ potty mouth,” she attempted to tease, gasping through her words. Her eyes fluttered shut, inhaling softly as she felt his hand slam along the skin of her ass, his other fingers traveling up as they shoved into her mouth.

“You’re pushing it,” Toji tells her, squeezing her skin in his hand, biting down on her shoulder as his fingers press against her tongue.

“Keep mouthing off like that. Gonna use your throat for something else.”

“Sorry,” she whimpers, wrapping her mouth along his fingers, sucking gently as she moans.

“Yeah, you’re definitely not sorry.”

Her mouth wrapped around his fingers felt nice, her tongue pressing against them in a way that would send a shiver down his spine. He could only imagine what else that tongue would do to him.

He leaned down, moving his fingers out of her mouth to bite along her jaw, down to her neck as he grunted, “Fuckin’ tease.”

“And you’re a bastard,” she gripped the back of his hair, pushing out the words with the last bit of air within her throat.

Toji lets out an amused chuckle, the grip on his hair pulling his head back slightly. All of it drove him crazy.

“You like that shit,” He murmurs against her ear, his hips still forcing themselves into hers. “Admit it.”

She shakes her head, eyes rolling to the back of her head as he pulls her head back, looking within her face. She digs her teeth into her lip, refusing to give him a response.

“Fuck you,” she grunts out, her stomach dropping as he shoved his hips up, dropping her hips down. She trembled, her mouth flying open as she whines, “Fuck, baby. Fuck. Fuck.”

“Yeah? That’s all you got now?”

She gasped, hips shivering as she used one of her hands to cover her mouth, unable to stop herself from the broken moan she releases, “Fuckkk, my god. Stop it.”

He continued moving, forcing his hips against hers. He wanted to hear more of her. No, he needed to hear more of her.

“T—Toji,” she holds onto him, “Can’t hold on much longer, oh my…” she gasps, “Fuckin’ h—hate you.”

“You don’t.”

“I do,” she promises, eyes fluttering shut, “So much.”

“You’re giving me all this attitude, but you’re holding on so fuckin’ tightly to me like you don’t wanna let go,” he raises her hips, tip halfway out of her, feeling as her legs shake, Asael swivels her lower body as she whimpered.

“Cause I don’t wanna,” she then admits, her moans dropping from her lips like she couldn’t stop them, the sound of their hips connecting alarming around her ears, she trembles out a harsh cry.

“There we go,” he murmured against her skin, his lips trailing along her shoulder, “That wasn’t so hard.”

Each time he slams her down onto his dick, her pussy gripping tightly around him, releasing small waves of pleasure that seem to radiate throughout both their bodies.

“Pussy’s talking to me baby, huh?”

“Ugn—mhmmmm.”

She grips the side of his face, nodding her head as she begs, “Don’t stop,” trembling as she kisses along his neck.

“Don’t stop?”

His fingers dig into the flesh of her ass, grinding her onto his abdomen, arousal dripping down his abdomen each time their bodies connect.

“Don’t.”

She feels like he’s punishing her for the mouth she had before they ended up here, her attitude something that needed to be tamed. Now here she was—broken and needing him, attitude nowhere in sight.

“Reckless ass fuckin’ mouth of yours. Now look at you.”

“Fuckk, baby. Please.”

“What? Talk to me.”

She gasps, back of her thighs clapping along his hips, coating her arousal along his length as she breathlessly whimpers, “Sorry.”

“You should be.”

A peevish whine leaves her lips, dragging her tongue along his jaw until it reaches his lips, “Want you so bad.”

Toji grins at her whimpers and begs, the sound fueling his desire further. He captures her tongue with his, dominating her mouth as he increases the pace of his thrusts. The room is filled with the sound of their bodies connecting, the lewd noises and gasps they're both making.

"Fuck, never heard pussy talk the way she’s talking to me,” he groans in her ear, his voice filled with satisfaction, “You want me this bad?"

She gasps against his lips, holding his hair tightly within her fingers, brokenly moaning as she nods her head, head tilting back as he slams her hips down harder to meet his.

Asael's gasps for air between moans, her body twitching with pleasure and anticipation, only serve to further fuel Toji's hunger. He revels in her cries of pleasure echoing throughout the room as he continues to fuck her senseless.

She nearly whines like a brat when he pulls out of her, carrying her over to the bed as he lays his back against it. Pulling Asael by her blood rich curls, he grips his length within his other hand, slapping it along her tongue before pushing it between the lips of her mouth. Her eyes roll to the back of her head as she moans, immediately bobbing her head up and down as she sucks him within her mouth.

He pulls her hair back roughly, forcing her to look up at him as he holds her head still while he pushes his length into her waiting mouth.

“Begging for my dick, you even want my shit in your throat,” He watches closely as Asael eagerly takes him into her mouth, swallowing his throbbing length wholeheartedly, showing no resistance or hesitation in pleasuring him.

Her warm cheeks grow hotter at his words, keeping her eyes down as she opens her throat, mouth entirely full as she moans, tip slamming into her mouth each time her lips meet with his abdomen.

“All you needed was something in this pretty ass mouth of yours,” he grunted, using his other hand as he held her hair, positioning her up more as he guides her head down, bobbing her mouth up and down harshly that it causes her eyes to roll back, thighs squeezing together as she feels her clit throb at his tone. She’d never expect herself to be this indulged to a man speaking to her like this, embarrassingly enjoying every second of his dirty talk.

“I’m so…wet…” she admits between airs of breath, watching as that makes him grunt, head falling back as he grunts, “Yeah? You are? Shit, baby,” her lips smacking to his abdomen, taking him all the way down her throat.

He pulls her away from him, holding her up by her hair as his palm smacks along the cheek of her face, seeing the natural beauty of it as her lip liner fades away off her full lips, teary eyed vision lessening of mascara.

Her teeth digs into her lip as she nods, elatedly giggling as he growls at the sight. He grunts, “Yeah, okay,” pulling her up by the ponytail he creates as he scoots his body down, her hips now above his as he takes his other hand to spread her ass cheek, core squelching from the air it collects from the movement. The emptiness she feels is now replaced by the full girth of his dick, Toji mercilessly dropping her down onto his abdomen.

The shakey gasp that leaves her lips as Toji groans with her at the same time, “Ooh, shit. She missed me,” causing Asael to whimper as he spanks her in repetitions.

He’s propping her up to where her feet are along the bed, putting her in an almost squatting position as he puts his muscular arms under her legs, holding her by the thick flesh of her ass before he’s pulls her up slowly, slamming her back down, arousal spewing through the separation of their skin, Asael gasping deeply at the sound.

Silence goes between them as they listen, her eyes falling slightly behind herself as she watches her ass drop devilishly against his hips, wrapping her hand around one of his arms that holds her. Toji’s eyes are locked down, watching as each time he lifts her up, more of her arousal paints against his length.

His eyes flick up to her face, seeing as she can barely keep her eyes open, pouting heavily as she’s barely in control. He tells her gruffly, “Spread your pussy. Gonna go deeper,” guiding her hands to both of her ass cheeks, pulling them farther away from one another. Asael trembles atop of him, hips stuttering as she nods, desperately trying to keep up with him.

He guides her, roughly slamming her hips down to his, Asael now mewling defeatedly, feeling her eyes brimming with tears again as she runs her fingers over his arms, wanting to hold one of his hands.

“Keep going with all that whining shit you were doing earlier,” he tells her, a shockwave being sent along her body as he’s back to spanking her, Asael spreading herself from behind as she whines softly, “You’re so fucking deep, baby.”

“In your stomach?”

She nods her head, no words allowing from her lips as a late gasp shudders from her mouth. Toji tightens his grip on her hips, his fingers digging into her skin even harder as he forces her movements to follow his pace, his eyes never leaving her flushed and pretty face. He can see the way she's struggling to keep herself together, her eyes teary and her body trembling with pleasure.

Her desperation becomes evident in her movements, so he reaches up to intertwine his fingers with hers, gripping her hand tight, grounding her to him.

"Pussy keeps pulling me in,” he groans breathlessly, his eyes locked onto hers as he continues to slam her hips down onto him. He can feel her hand squeezing his, the touch adding to the intimacy of the moment.

"Just like you were made for me," he prods, his voice rough and possessive. “I can tell you’ve never been fucked like this. That’s why you’re so fuckin’ mad all the time.”

“Toji,” her chest shakes as she sobs, taking his hand as she places his fingers within her mouth, needing a way to quiet herself as her eyes roll to the back of her head.

“Just needed a dick to cum on. One to make you cum, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” He arrogantly repeats.

“Aughhhh—ugh, fuck. Yeah.”

She felt as though she didn’t have any more energy to give, wanting to tap out— she knew that wasn’t happening. A soft gasp leaves her hips as they swiftly switch positions, Asael now against her stomach as her hips are arched within the air of the bed. Toji’s abdomen presses along her back as he hovers over her, eyes rolling to the back of her head, shoving her face along the sheets as she jerks out a breathless curse, fists tightening as he pushes back into her. She feels his lips along the back of her neck, his arms trapping hers beneath his.

She hopes— prays he tires himself out. He takes one hand as he wraps it around her throat from behind, deeply grinding his hips down into her. His lips attach to the side of her neck, fingers clutching her mouth within his hold as she shudders, “Oh fuck,” Toji arrogantly chuckling right beside her ear.

“Pretty ass tattoo, looks like the shit hurt,” he talks, deep voice wracking within her brain as he grunts, “Let me kiss it better,” dirtily making out with her throat, dragging his tongue along the skin nearly up to her ear. Her eyes can’t stay open, feeling as if she’s about to go blind, the pleasure of him smacking his hips directly along her g-spot has her muffling, “Ohhh my god. F—fuck. F—uckk.”

His pace gets faster, his grip on her throat and mouth tightening. He can hear the way she gasps and moans against his hand, the sound muffled and desperate. But he doesn’t let up, he keeps going, pushing her to the edge and then holding her there, keeping her on the brink of ecstasy and pain.

He leans down, his lips against her ear, his voice a dark, possessive growl, “Think this pussy had been waiting for me,” he pulls out, taking his hand as he bobs his tip along her entrance, watching as Asael trembles out a gasp, legs vibrating as she whines, “Gonna cum. S—so close, put it back in.”

He moves his hips against hers, rocking her body and making her whimper and gasp. Her body trembles and shakes, the pleasure and pain becoming too much for her to handle.

“Toji, please. Please.”

“Pussy makes me wanna fall in love,” he grunts, spreading her apart with his own hand, seeing her opening throbbing, gummy pink walls pulling themselves inward as they need his connection.

“Ungh,” she softly groaned, biting her teeth against the pillow, eyes shut tightly as she moaned along the sheets, eyes rolling to the back of her head as he rolled his hips against hers, still not going back inside of her.

“You wanna cum?”

“Yes.”

“Say that shit, then.”

“Wanna fuckin’ cum all over your dick, baby. C—can’t wait,” she nearly feels tears in her eyes.

The evil bastard rumbles a deep chuckle against her body, pulling her hair into his fist as he twists the mane into a ponytail, other hand spreading her opening father as he shoves his dick back inside of her, yanking her hips back with an angle to hit directly to her g-spot. Asael feels elated, a high-pitched giggle leaving her lips as she whines, eyes rolled to the back of her head as her orgasm nearly pushes his length out by the strength of pleasure, her mouth sobbing out half screams, face shoved into the pillow as she releases wildly. He picks her head up as he grunts, still keeping his hips plummeting into her, “Nah. Fuck all that. Cum. Shit feels good, doesn’t it?”

She nods her head, whining, “Yeahhh,” tears dropping from her face, catching his wrist within her palm as he damn near leaves a handprint on her ass, ignoring as his final words to her are, “So fuckin’ polite now. All you needed was to be fucked.”

The chaos of the moment drives him to a brink of insanity. To hear the suction of air spouting from her opening, Asael defeatedly gasping, head turning as her mascara ridden face tiredly moans, it’s euphoria.

His hips stutter as he pulls out with a moan, an unexpected movement from Asael as she quickly turns herself to let him release along her flushed face, her hands wrapped around the base of his length as she sticks her tongue out.

It makes the man halt, his eyebrows raising as she does so.

Both of their heavy breathing fills the room, her shamelessly beautiful face staring up at him with practical stars in her eyes, Toji for once in complete silence as she giggles from his shocked face.

“Shit,” he grunts, “Maybe I was wrong. You are sweet.”

Her eyes scan along his face, a new rise of confidence within her as she shrugs, “Could just be one of my better moods.”

“Better? You’re not in the fuckin’ heavens right now after I tore your ass up?”

Asael shrugs, “Maybe. Maybe not.”

As she continues to giggle, Toji raises his eyebrow. She must’ve forgotten who he was just that quickly. But she’s about to be reminded, a gasp falling from her lips as he twists her hair into his fingers, pulling her eyes up to meet him so she can hear every word.

“Nah, fuck that. Turn over.”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ toji visuals + vibes ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐇

pairing: joel miller x webcam model!f!reader

genre: no outbreak AU, explicit smut, minors dni

word count: 9k

summary: Joel, only now starting to feel the impending sense of loneliness, decides to listen to Tommy and sign up on an online streaming service called Ravish.

warnings: joel is bi in this, sex toys, paddles, nipple clamps, pillow humping, self-spanking, female/male masturbation, piv, dirty talking, possesive!joel, cum eating, oral (female receiving), size kink

additional warning: alright so there is a short moment in this where reader smacks herself with a paddle that has a heart-shaped hole and gets a heart mark on her skin, I don't use any descriptions (like calling it red or pink etc) but I'm also not oblivious enough to think everyone would get a mark when getting spanked so I wanted to let you know in case that would put you off and wouldn't want to read and that's completely fine!

a/n: this definitely ended up being longer then it needed it to be bfgbfg I want to take the anon who requested this, and the rest of you who chimed in and voted on the polls. I hope you all enjoy 💜 oh, also a special thanks to @missredherring who gave the idea of a more in-depth reason as to why Joel likes honeysuckle flowers 👀

edit!!! this has more than one part now! click here for the masterlist

Joel was lonely. 

He hadn’t really thought about it until Sarah went off to college. 

Since the day she was born, he had one thing and one thing on his mind only—to give his little girl everything that he could and make her happy. The rest didn’t concern him. He didn’t really care about dating, he didn’t have the time to think about how lonely he was. He had been on a couple of dates, all of which were initiated by Sarah as she entered her teenage years, pleading with him to go out and have a life.

But now that she was gone, studying what she always wanted to study and being happy, the emptiness began to spread like a nasty infection. Every creak and groan of the house sounded like mockery to him. He started keeping the TV open all night, most of the time falling asleep, only to wake up in the middle of the night startled by sudden shouts from a randomly playing film or show. He hated it. This wasn’t how Joel imagined his golden years to be like. 

Maybe that’s why he decided to use the damn website. Ravish. He’d heard it from Tommy first —which was an uncomfortable conversation as one could imagine— and after that, he kept on hearing the name. 

Ravish 

Ravish 

Ravish 

It was like a shitty pop song, stuck between his teeth like toffee, impossible to get rid of. The name made a home in his brain, making its presence known whenever he was doing anything, no matter how mundane the task was. 

Ultimately, he gave in. What was the worst that could happen? 

Joel groans. He stares at the screen with his brows drawn tightly together, the text cursor blinking as it waits for him to type out a username. It’s been almost ten minutes. A brief thought of asking Tommy passes through his mind but he quickly pushes the thought away and leans over the keyboard. 

JMiller. That should be alright. He doesn’t need anything fancy, and J can be any name. It can be Jack, Jacob, Jonathan, John, Jeremy. There are a bunch. Besides, Miller is a pretty common last name, so if someone asks if he's JMiller, he can just deny it. Not that anyone would. Everyone would be too busy jerking off to pretty people. The last thought anyone would have would be of him. 

He quickly decides on his password and he’s immediately overwhelmed. There are too many things happening at once. His eyes widen, heart beating a bit too fast as he moves his mouse around. In the corner, there’s a little pop-up begging for his attention, and on the screen, there are multiple thumbnails of women and men. When he drags his mouse over a thumbnail it starts moving and he jumps. 

“Holy hell,” he mutters. “I’m in way over my head.” 

Joel gets up to pour himself a glass of whiskey. After that, he sits on the couch again and takes three deep breaths. The ice clicks together as he takes a swig, the amber liquid pleasantly burning as it goes down his throat. He looks around some more, looking for the profiles that pique his interest the most. 

While he scrolls, he sees one of a man with the username NicolasCageFreak, which he finds odd, but the man is pleasing to the eye with soft brown curls and natural honey highlights in between. The man has a small bullet vibrator pressed against his hard length, a cock ring at the base of it. Joel presses like and saves it for later. 

Joel has to remind himself a couple of times that the people who stream can’t actually see him. The more he scrolls the more relaxed he feels. There’s a woman with pretty green eyes he saves for later and another man with the username CammingBravo. He has his face hidden, Joel can see the red ribbon circling the back of his head as he bends over, granting the viewers a delicious sight of his ass that has a shiny buttplug. 

Liked! Added to your queue for later.

Until now Joel was fairly certain he was straight, sometimes he’d get the occasional same-sex dream but he figured everyone did at some point in their lives. He’s not so sure anymore. 

Some more scrolling and Joel starts getting restless. His cock strains against his sweatpants, aching for his rough touch. He takes a deep breath. The next live stream he sees that he likes he’ll click and that will be that. He’s starting to get worked up and, unlike NicolasCageFreak, he’s not a fan of edging himself. 

Then he sees her. A woman wearing a delicate chain vest with rhinestones that sparkle whenever she moves. His eyes flit to the username; Honeysuckle. He loves that flower, he has many memories of picking them with Tommy and sucking the sweet nectar hidden inside. He wonders if she tastes just as sweet. 

Not one to break a promise to himself, Joel clicks on the thumbnail. His eyes are instantly drawn to the live chat. There are so many people asking her to do something all at once—Jesus Christ. There are also a couple of them just chatting as if they were friends with her. He sees that everyone calls her Honey, which is fitting and a bit on the nose, he thinks. 

Noticing that he has the stream muted, Joel unmutes it, a pleasant tingle running down his spine as soon as her voice comes through the speakers of his laptop. 

“Wow, Eric47 I’m so happy you got that promotion!” 

“Don’t worry everyone, I’ve been thinking naughty thoughts all day and I’m ready to put on a show.” 

“Patience everyone.” 

“Thank you for buying a private chat, SarahBelieves! I can’t wait to be your good girl. . .” 

Joel is too focused on her tone, the smooth lilt of her voice, to hear the words she’s saying. The only thing his ears pick up on is the words private and chat. He wasn’t aware you could buy some extra time with the streamers. He loves that—

He shakes his head. Loves? Is he already planning on paying? At the thought, his cock twitches with interest, his reserve quickly crumbling to the floor. 

Joel decides to focus on the stream first. He can decide later on if he wants a private session or not. He cups himself through the soft fabric of his sweatpants, groaning as a spike of relief shoots through him. His eyes are glued to the screen. Honey’s hard nipples poke through the chains, her hands delicately kneading the tender mounds as she rises slightly by lifting herself onto her knees. She’s on a bed, wearing black panties and a matching garter. Joel’s mouth waters. The things he would do to her. . . 

His tongue pokes from between his lips, soft tendon moving with muscle memory as he thinks of eating her sweet cunt out. 

“Today my sweet bees,” she addresses them. “I was thinking of fucking myself with the biggest dildo I’ve got, how does that sound?” 

Joel’s eyes drift to the chat. Everyone seems to be cheering and asking her to show them how much she can take. There’s also a bunch of them calling her their favorite size queen. She chuckles. 

“I love all dicks, in any shape or form,” she purrs. “I’m just in the mood for a bit of pain.” 

Pain. That captures Joel’s attention. It makes him curious about all the other things she might be into. Perhaps she enjoys getting spanked, or she would enjoy the feeling of someone dragging their nails down her pretty back. He wants to know. He wants his imaginary scenarios to be as accurate as possible. 

He’s about to pull out his cock when he hears her voice again. 

“I do have one question though,” she says innocently. “Should I keep these pretty black panties on or off?” she grins into the camera, her eyes shining with mirth. “Let’s see those answers, my bees.” 

What do you want? Joel wants to ask. But this isn’t that kind of scenario so he thinks. The answers come flying in, there’s a fifty-fifty ratio. Joel’s mind blanks for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching. He wants her to keep them on. He likes the idea of her sliding them to the side and fucking herself deep, it feels more animalistic, more raw. He enjoys the idea of claiming someone, a curiosity he hasn’t yet fully explored yet. 

He types exactly that. His wording and grammar a bit too neat compared to the rest, but he gives Honey his answer. He wants her to keep it on. Maybe play with herself some more until the fabric is basically see-through, then she can fuck herself with the biggest cock she’s got. 

Joel watches intently as her eyes go over the live chat, there are so many answers coming in, he doubts she’ll see his comment. Still, he likes to believe she’ll see it. 

Honey’s eyes still briefly, hunger swirling in them as a canine sinks into her bottom lip. Her smile is bashful and shy, much different than the character she’s playing. Her eyes move back to the camera. Joel watches her breasts as her chest heaves, nipples grazing against the cool metal. 

“Well, well, JMiller. . . you certainly have a mouth on you,” she tuts and Joel’s eyes go wide. The satisfaction he feels leads to goosebumps coursing over his burning skin, being noticed. . . it’s surprisingly thrilling. “Are you new? I haven’t seen your handle before.” 

Joel swallows, his hands shaking as he types in a quick “yea”, Honey smiles, “Welcome to the hive then, baby. Keep the comments up,” she sighs, cupping both her tits. “I love a man who knows how to dirty talk.” 

A knot forms in his throat, his skin tight. He wasn’t expecting to be this affected. Now he understands why so many people enjoy live streams. They don’t see you, not actually, but still, it almost fills the void. Almost. He’s excited now, eager to type in more of his thoughts, eager to hear her answer him. Joel pulls out his cock, the waistband of his sweats hugging his thighs. He gives himself a firm tug, his spine straightening at the burn gathering in his lower stomach. It feels fucking good. 

“Since it’s J’s first time, and because he got me all hot and bothered, why not leave the panties on for this time?” Honey says. Joel observes the chat, there are a lot of congratulatory messages addressed to him, welcoming him. He doesn’t care. “You want to see these panties soaked, huh? You guys know how much I love making a mess.” 

Honey shimmies back, revealing more of her bare legs. She spreads them for the camera, the soft sound of delicate metal filling the air whenever she moves. Her fingers start to move lazily over her clothed clit, her head falls. Joel can see a subtle dark patch growing, his own hand starting to move slowly up and down his throbbing cock. A drop of precum dribbles down, easing the glide of his rough palm. She doesn’t look at the chat as frequently as she did before, too focused on her pleasure. Her glossy lips part and her eyes scrunch up. Her moans are loud and breathy, signs that she lives alone. 

Joel doesn’t think as he fists himself. Normally when watching porn he would think; he would think of a scenario, or what he would be doing differently, or the things he would want to do. This is different. He’s just watching, inhaling what’s being given to him. He sucks a sharp breath, his hand moving faster, the side of his fist smacking against his pelvis, dark curls damp under his palm. 

“Fuck,” Honey moans, eyes peering toward the screen. Her fingers move faster, her hips grinding to meet the graze of her palm. Joel groans, his eyes rolling back into his skull. “I think I’m going to come,” he breathes out. “Should I?” 

Joel doesn’t bother with typing until he hears his alias. 

“JMiller, since you’re new the decision is yours. Should I? P-Please answer,” she sounds desperate, her hips rutting the air as she presses her fingers hard against her clit. “O-Or do you want me to come on your cock?” 

Joel’s hips stutter, filling the tightness of his fist, “Fuckin’ hell.” 

With sticky fingers he types his answer, telling her that she should come with his cock deep inside her. Joel also adds that he wants to hear her, telling her to be loud. 

“O-Okay,” she whines, almost tearful as she reaches to grab her dildo off-screen. Joel can’t help the grin that makes its way across his face. He types again, telling her not to cry and that she’ll be coming soon enough. When he presses enter, he notices that his name is highlighted in dark orange. “You’re kind of an asshole,” she answers playfully. “I like that.” 

You're the buzzing heartbeat of Honeysuckle’s live stream! You are picked by the streamer as the treasured Drone Bee, your unwavering loyalty and vibrant energy create an electrifying atmosphere. Your presence is a key ingredient in making the honey even sweeter! 

A growl echoes in his throat when Honey shows the camera the dildo she had picked out. She wasn’t kidding when she said it was her biggest. It’s bigger than his own dick, and Joel is by no means a small man. He squeezes his cock and looks down, with a sudden need growing in his chest, he purses his lips and lets a long trail of saliva drip between his lips. He shudders when it reaches the head of his cock. He swipes his palm over it and continues to stroke himself, he wants to come. 

He wants them to come at the same time. 

Honey pushes the dildo in slowly, giving her viewers a clear sight of what’s happening. The toy stretches her wide, the ache of it pulling a gasp from her pretty lips. Joel breathes heavily, his nostrils flaring as his hand speeds up. 

Oh, how he would love to be the one fucking slowly into her, to hear those little gasps coming from her in person rather than his shitty speakers. He holds his breath. It’s buried fully inside of her now. She slowly looks down, her eyes looking directly into the camera. 

“I hope the view down there is good,” she says with a smirk. Joel doesn’t type anything. He focuses on the way his cock drools for her, aches to be buried in her cunt. Honey pulls out the toy until it’s only the tip that’s inside and then shoves it all in one smooth thrust. She cries out, her voice unfiltered. Joel’s stomach jumps at the sound, his pupils dilating like a wolf seeing its prey for the first time. 

She fucks herself hard, whimpering and crying out every time she fuck herself deep. Joel sees the way the plastic surface shines with her slick, he bets she tastes fucking sweet. 

He knows she’s close when her thighs begin to shake—he also knows thanks to the live chat going completely berserk, cheering her on and telling her to squirt. Joel, despite her own release close enough that he can taste it, rolls his eyes. 

“This one is for you JMiller,” she whimpers and Joel’s eyes go wide, his cock pulsing in his wet fist. “Hope you’re gonna fall down the edge with me, big guy.”  

Joel doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until she’s coming—she does so with a loud moan, her cunt fluttering around the large cock. Her head falls back completely, giving a clear view of her heaving chest, nipples fully erect under the see-through armor. 

His fall from grace is less pretty. He lets out a grunt, his hips fucking into his hand helplessly as come spurts from the slit, it’s almost painful. His heart beats aggressively while he tries hard to keep his focus on the screen, he doesn’t want to miss anything. Joel makes a mess of himself and his surroundings, the rug underneath his socked feet stained with his release. 

 Joel’s cock stops throbbing and with a pleased sigh, his shoulders drop. 

“That felt fuckin’ goood,” he groans, staring blankly at the ongoing live stream. Vaguely he notices Honey pulling the toy out, an equally fucked out expression on her face. The live chat is still going wild, he manages to lean over and type in one last sentence before going offline. 

Good girl. 

Joel is a weak weak man. 

Watching Honey quickly became a routine for him. She would start streaming around the same time he would come back from work and it was the perfect way to let off some steam. Tommy had asked if he checked out Ravish, to which Joel promptly said no. He didn’t need his baby brother making fun of him. 

Besides, some primal part of him didn’t want Tommy to know about Honey. It’s an odd thought, he realizes, since she’s enjoyed by many many people. Still, he didn’t have an explanation for what he was feeling. 

Once she had brought in a guest, and his body had immediately rejected it. He was ready to close the stream and head to the bathroom for a quick shower—however, he stopped when he noticed who the guest was; CammingBravo. Another streamer who had caught Joel’s attention when he was scrolling through the endless amount of entertainers for the first time. He watched Honey eat out his tight little asshole, then he watched Bravo fuck her senseless, making her soak the sheets. 

Joel never came that hard in his life before— It was exhilarating. He tipped handsomely that night and Honey mentioned how JMiller was one of her best viewers. Bravo’s smile, which was surprisingly kind, was infectious. 

He would be lying if he said his chest didn’t puff up a little. 

And, of course, he ended up buying a private chat with her after that. He just had to. It would just be this one time, he told himself, just one hour without the live chat. Just him and her. 

He turns on the laptop, already knowing that he’s kidding himself. There’s no way this will be a one-time thing. He’s too. . . smitten to leave it with one private chat. 

Maybe he can limit himself to once a month. That seems reasonable. 

The familiar website of Ravish loads and he clicks on the little gray person in the corner. He finds the section that’s titled “private chats” and clicks. Her username, Honeysuckle, pops up. On the screen, it says she’ll be with him shortly. 

A minute later the screen goes black and her face comes into view. She’s wearing a pink see-through bra with strawberries on it, Honey’s smile is bright as she looks into the camera.  

“Hi there J!” she greets him, his stomach warms at the sound of her voice. “This is your first time doing a live chat right?” 

He nods absent-mindedly while typing. Honey reads his answer and gives him an empathetic look. 

“Okay, so you don’t have to show your face—obviously—but if you want you can click the tiny microphone in the corner and talk to me directly. But if that’s also too much you can continue to type what you want me to do.” 

Joel’s eyebrows raise. Talk to her. . . with his actual voice? The thought both excites and sends cold fear down his spine. What would he even say? What if she doesn’t like the sound of his voice? 

“Are you there?” her voice comes through. “Is everything alright?” 

His fingers tense and rigid, Joel types in the questions that swirl in his head. Luckily the questions sound cheeky without any tone indicators so Honey smiles, her eyes narrowing while her lips curl seductively. 

“You can say anything you want, big boy,” she licks her lips. “And don’t worry about your voice, I’m yours for the hour. You might as well have the most shrill voice in the world, I would still tell you how sexy you sound.” 

You always call me that. Why?  . . .  Also, it doesn’t make me feel any better when you say you’ll tell me how good I sound regardless but I get what you mean. 

Joel aggressively chews the smooth inside of his cheek. Honey reads his messages, a grin stretching across her beautiful face, “Let’s just say streamer’s intuition,” she winks. “As for the other thing, I mean that you don’t need to worry. I doubt you have the most shrill voice in the world.”  she thinks over her words before adding. “Of course, it’s up to you. If you don’t want to use voice chat that’s completely fine.” 

 Joel sighs, his curser hovering over the tiny microphone. Closing his eyes, he clicks. 

“Can—Can you hear me?” 

Her eyes sparkle. 

“Crystal clear,” she answers with a wide smile. “You sound hot.” 

She sounds genuinely impressed. Joel can’t help but chuckle with the shake of his head. “Don’t sound so surprised but thanks, I think?” 

“Oh it’s definitely a compliment,” she says rolling her tongue. “Is there anything you want me to call you or should I just call you J?” 

There’s a brief moment where he thinks of just telling her his name but he bites his tongue at the very last moment. His heart does a little jump when he answers, “You can call me. . . sir.” 

“Understood, sir,” she repeats, her voice dripping with lust. A shudder crawls up his spine and he has to brace himself by holding his knees. “There is also a matter of safewords, I don’t do everything as I’m sure you don’t as well. Red is for stop, yellow is for slow down and green is for go. I think that’s the simplest one but if you want to use a different word I’m okay with that.” 

Joel blinks before answering, “Uh, yeah sounds good.” 

“Also the website doesn’t allow screen recordings—which I appreciate— so you can’t film these sessions in any way. I’m just letting you know because no one reads the terms of service and one client was very unhappy when he got a cease and desist.”

“I. . . okay, I wouldn’t even think of it.” 

She smiles and Joel’s heart feels a bit lighter, “Good,” with the rules established, a sense of relaxation washed over both of them. “So, do you have anything planned for me?” 

Joel clears his throat as a warning and her eyes glimmer with amusement. 

“Sorry,” she breathes heavily. “Did you have anything planned for me, sir?” 

“Would you laugh if I said no?” 

“Sir, I would never laugh at you,” she pouts, brows turning upward. Momentarily she looks off screen and when her eyes find the lens again she smiles giddily.  “Would you want me to show you the toys I think you’ll like?” 

Joel smiles at how genuinely excited she sounds, it’s hard to remind himself that this is all an act and that this is her job. He wants this to be real. He wants her to actually be excited to show him all the things she wants him to use. 

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he answers not missing the way her lips part with a soft gasp. “Show me what you got.” 

Honey shows him a handful of her toys. She has a lot. Dildos of various sizes, vibrators, nipple clamps, kegel balls, anal plugs, anal beads, floggers, collars, paddles. . . she might as well have an entire sex shop in her room. Joel takes mental notes of all of them to use during their next sessions.  

“Anything that you like, sir?” 

“The paddle,” he murmurs, feeling a bit flustered now that they’re actually getting into it. “The one with the heart-shaped hole and. . . the nipple clamps—” 

“The heart-shaped ones?” 

Joel swallows thickly, “Y—Yeah.” 

“No need to be shy, sir,” she grins. “It’s only you and me.” Honey picks out the toys Joel requested and raises an eyebrow while her gaze searches the pile. “So, no dildos? Or vibrators?” 

“I . . . had somethin’ else in mind, if that’s alright.” 

“Ohhhh, a mystery,” she purrs, winking into the camera. “I love it, sir.” 

Honey is slow to rid herself of her bra, sliding one arm out and then the other before moving both hands to the back to unclasp herself free of the dainty fabric. Her chest nears the camera, giving him a full view of her fully erect nipples. Joel’s breathing grows heavier by the second. He can feel his cock stiffen, pleasure stirring in his gut. He quickly kicks off his shorts, leaving himself bare on the couch as he watches her secure the clamps over each nipple. She lets out a tiny sigh of bliss, pulling her arms back and planting her palms firmly against the mattress, she shows her newly decorated nipples. 

Joel groans and wraps his hand around his cock. She does a little wiggle, the soft sound of bells making his cock twitch. 

“Are you touching yourself, sir?” 

“Yea.” 

“Good, I want to hear you get off,” she quickly adds. “Sir.” 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweet thing,” his eyes flutter closed as his fist moves down, and he opens them back up after giving himself a firm squeeze. “Turn around,” he grunts. “And don’t forget the paddle.” 

She does as she’s told, which in return gives Joel an immense sense of control and satisfaction. Precome drips down his length, he uses it to lube himself further, paying extra attention to be loud for her. Just like she wanted. 

His eyes follow the movement of the paddle, she drags it over the right cheek of her ass, caressing her skin. Her panties disappear between the crease of her gorgeous ass, leaving little to the imagination. “Is this okay, sir?” she asks, her voice thick. “Am I being a good girl?” 

Goosebumps rise over his skin. He’d called her, wrote to her, good girl after every stream—his smirk is laced with something dark when he realizes that she must’ve enjoyed it. 

“You’re being very good,” he answers. “Now hit yourself with it, I want to see a heart tattooed on that pretty flesh of yours.” 

“Southern man into branding, why am I not surprised?” she purrs and lifts her ass closer the camera. “You like seeing your pretty girl all marked up by her owner?” 

Fuck. 

“Don’t get full of yourself,” he orders, adding a bit more venomous tone to his voice. Honey stills, and briefly Joel worries he’d overstep. He stops breathing, not wanting to miss even the smallest hint of the safeword. 

But then she shudders, hitting herself lightly with the paddle. “How’s this, sir?” she says, her lilt indicating that she’s highly aware it isn’t enough. 

“Harder.” 

She spanks herself harder, her body jolting. Joel can hear the bells. He circles the head of his cock with the pad of his thumb, groaning as he makes himself more comfortable on the couch. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t think you’re listenin’,” he inhales slowly, enjoying the way her muscles tense. “I want to see those hearts on your skin. I thought this was supposed to be a show.” 

“Y-Yes, sir.” 

He loves how breathy her voice has gotten. Heat licks the base of his spine, his cock begging for release. 

She raises the paddle, smacking her plump meat much harder than before. Her asscheek ripples and Joel can finally see a faint trace of a shape. But it’s not clear enough to be a decent heart. “Again,” he orders. 

It takes about six to nine times before the heart takes shape on her skin. She’s whimpering, tremors moving up and down her body as she fights the urge to collapse. She loves seeing his mark there, she might’ve placed herself, but it was his doing and he revels in it. 

“Good,” he says, swallowing thickly. “Good fuckin’ girl. Lookin’ so pretty for me.” 

“S-Sir,” she mutters. Joel doesn’t know what to expect until her hand comes between her legs, sliding the thin line of her panties to the side. Her cunt is a sopping mess. Joel leans further towards the screen, his tongue licking the roof of his mouth. “Do you see how wet I am? P-Please, I want to come—Can I, sir?” 

“Fuck, ‘course you can,” his neck feels warm, burning almost. “Turn around, grab one of them pillows behind you.” 

“P-Pillow?” 

She sounds dazed, Joel almost feels bad for her, almost. “Yes sweetheart, pillow,” he coos. “I want you to grind that pretty cunt against it. . . honey.” 

“Shit, say that again.” 

“Honey,” he groans again, his hips thrusting into the air, burying himself deep into his fist. His voice drops further as he begins to chant, “Honey, honey, honey, honey—” 

She visibly clenches at that, her entire body tight with arousal. With shaky hands, she brings the pillow between her thighs, straddling the soft cushion. Her head falls back as she gives it an experimental roll of her hips, Joel’s breath catches in his throat. She looks delectable. Her hands come up to her chest and tugs at the clamps, she jumps, a wanton moan echoing from the back of her throat. 

“You’re so worked up aren’t you?” Joel continues as she grinds herself further down, leaving a wet, darkened patch behind. He’s preaching to the choir. His own arousal drooling over his knuckles. He closes his eyes, allowing his mouth to roam free. “Stuff three fingers in your mouth, want you to choke darlin’.” 

With a whine, she nods and pushes three fingers between her lips. Joel smirks, “It ain’t nearly enough but at least you can get a feelin’ of how much my cock would stretch those pretty lips, honey,” he rasps. She shudders, her hips moving wildly over the pillow. “You love havin’ your mouth full don’t you?” 

“Yesh, sur,” she moans around her own fingers, she move acutely, and with every jerk of her hips, Joel can see her throbbing clit. He’s teetering on the edge of his release, heat pools between his legs, his balls go tight. 

“I’m gonna come, honey,” he groans, his tight shaking. “Come with me, show me how wet your get that pillow.” 

With a hint of mischief in her eyes, she loudly gulps around her fingers, giving Joel a clear few of her cunt before rolling her hips down against the smooth surface. His eyes go wide and before his brain can register the coil snapping, he spills over his hand. Heavy strings of come dripping down his hard throbbing length. He makes a choked sound as he tries to breathe in and out at the same time. Honey pulls out her fingers from her mouth and grins, her hands drop in front of her and she bounces up and down, mimicking the way she would ride him. 

The action manages to squeeze one last rope of come from him, his lungs collapse, his body burning. She comes right after, her thighs squeezing around each side of the pillow before gushing around it. Joel can see the shine as she continues to grind her hips. 

“Show me,” he pants, his next words quickly shifting into a growl. “Show it to me.” 

Licking her lips, Honey pulls the pillow from between her legs and shows it to him. His cock twitches with interest. “Wanna taste you,” he says without thinking. 

“Sadly technology hasn’t improved that much yet,” she answers. “But I’ll tell you this much,” she leans in and flattens her tongue against the soaked fabric. Joel’s jaw tightens, his molars digging together painfully. She moans. “I taste sweet. Like honey.” 

You hate visiting home. 

You hate the heat, the crowd, staying at a home where you’re still treated like a child when you haven’t been one for a long long time. But you didn't really have a choice when your dad hurt his leg, which meant that you had to help around with the tiny bookshop your family owned. It was a miracle that it was still standing, but people did love their old, dusty bookshops. You had to admit, you enjoyed the aura of the place.

Your mom had asked you to bring over two coffees before coming in, she opened up shop early which you were grateful for. Now that you were home, you didn’t have the luxury to do as many private calls as you wanted to. You still streamed late at night, keeping silent, your audience didn’t mind. They thoroughly enjoyed the whispering and the “we can’t be caught” act. You only indulged in one private session, a session that you couldn’t bare letting go of. 

JMiller. 

You thought a lot about what his real name might be. Jacob, Jeff, Jeremy. . . none of them felt right. It was disappointing because you wanted to scream his name when you had your hand between your legs. But since you couldn’t decide on a name, you whimpered a string of sirs over and over again. 

You eagerly counted down the hours until you could finally spend time with him. This was a funny thought on its own because you boasted about how professional you were. You kept things clear, not allowing for any miscommunication or—potentially—feelings. But there was just something about him that got your entire body yearning to hear his southern drawl. Maybe it was the nostalgia of it all. You did grow up in Austin after all. But still. It was odd how excited you got before going online. 

You briefly mentioned you were going back home, you didn’t tell him where, obviously, but you did tell him that there could be scheduling issues. He understood. 

Of course he did, he was perfect. 

Pulling yourself away from your thoughts, you impatiently drum your foot against the clean marble floors. This line is insane. You let out a groan, sending your mother a quick text that it might take you a while. A second later your phone buzzes with a thumbs-up emoji from her. You sigh again as you shove the phone down your back pocket, you hate waiting, it gets you anxious and even though you don’t have a boss that will yell at you, you don’t enjoy being late. 

Then, as if he popped out of the concrete like a weed, a man pushes himself between you and the other person that was waiting in line in front of you. 

Your heart races, your eyebrows knitting together, no way in hell are you going to allow someone to cut in line. 

“Hey,” you call out. The man ignores you and you tap his shoulder, he turns sharply, his eyes glaring daggers. “You can’t cut in line,” you say defensively. “You need to move to the back of the line.” 

“Look lady I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about I was always here.” 

“Ummmm, no you weren’t,” your chest heaves, heat rising to your cheeks. You don’t like confrontation—you’d do it, but you’d hate it. Your legs are already shaking slightly. “I’ve been staring at the pink paint stain on that guy’s shoulder for about half an hour so I know what I’m talking about.” 

He rolls his eyes, an ugly snarl taking shape, “Just leave it. I ain’t gonna budge. I have places to be.” 

“And the rest of us don’t?” you snort, eyebrows raised. He shrugs, makes a face, and turns his back to you once again. It takes you everything not to stomp your foot like an angry bull. 

You’ve had enough. You’re tired of the assholes of the word, you don’t care if you’re not allowed into the coffee shop ever again. Puffing up your chest, you open your mouth wide, ready to give this rude stranger a piece of your unfiltered mind. 

“You know what—” 

“Is that any way to treat a lady, moonshine?”  

You turn towards the source of the voice. It’s a man you’ve never seen before. He’s rugged looking, the salt and pepper in his beard endearing. He has a deep crease between his brows, his brown eyes dark as he stares down at the rude stranger. You take in the sight of his broad shoulders, thick neck—your heart does a little flip. You don’t know why but you’re drawn to the man, he has a nice voice. 

The man, however, isn’t as pleased as you. 

“What’s it to you? She your girlfriend?” 

You’re not but you kinda wish you were. 

“Get in the back of the line, I saw you cut in front of her.” 

The tension in the air is thick enough that you can cut it with a knife. You hold your breath, your lungs starting to burn as electricity crackles between the two men. Finally the asshole caves and sighs, going to the back of the line. You let out the breath you’ve been holding, your shoulders sagging with relief right after. 

“Thank you,” you say, your gaze finding the kind strangers. “I was right about to blow my lid before you stepped in.” 

He doesn’t answer and just continues to stare at you. Worry builds in your spine. Why isn’t he saying anything? His softened gaze flits across your face, taking in every detail before looking away. He pushes his hands down his pockets, looking almost boyish with the way he drops his gaze to the floor. 

“Don’t mention it,” he mutters. 

You raise an eyebrow. His voice still sounds familiar. Your curiosity getting the better of you, you shove the thoughts of familiarity into the back of your head and grace him with a wide smile. He blushes profusely, eyes slightly going wide, he takes a sharp inhale. 

“How about I pay for your coffee. . . or whatever you’re buying?” you ask. 

“You don’t have—” 

“I insist!” you chirp, glad that the line is finally moving. You extend your hand with enthusiasm, which he accepts a bit tentatively. Your smile never wavering, you tell him your name and an emotion akin to guilt washes over his eyes. He releases your hand, lips a tight, frigid line. “Is something wrong?” you ask. “You don’t like the name?” 

“N–No, it ain’t that,” he shifts from one leg to the other. You nearly look down, curious to see how tightly his jeans hug his muscular thighs. “I’m. . . Joel.” 

The world around you falls into a complete silence. Joel. Joel. Something electric and searing shoots up your spine, your lashes fluttering. Your heart starts beating a mile a minute but you’re not sure why. The only thing you do know is that this is a significant moment. An important moment. 

Your rake your brain for answers. 

Why? 

Why is it important? What piece are you missing to complete the puzzle? 

His lips break into a soft smile, he gestures towards the counter with his head. “We’re up.” 

“O-Oh, yeah,” you swallow, barely able to pull your gaze away from him. “Sorry.” 

You tell the kind barista your order and she writes it down on both your cups happily. The two of you move away from the line to wait for your drinks; a black coffee for your mom, a caramel macchiato for you, and an iced quad espresso for Joel. You raise an eyebrow. 

“I have a long day comin’,” he says with a small smile. “And I didn’t do much sleepin’ last night.” 

Your mind immediately flashes you memories of last night. Legs spread wide with two dildos stretching you, JMiller really enjoys it when you test your limits. Your pulse pounding in your skull, you look down. “Don’t I know it.” 

“You had a late night too?” there’s a teasing lilt to his tone. Your stomach churns and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip. It looks like he’s about to say something else but the barista calls your name and both of you head towards the counter. He takes his death juice with a grateful smile, his demeanor more relaxed compared to when you introduced yourself.

“Thank you, honey. I appreciate it.” 

Oh shit. 

Shit shit shit shit. 

It is him. 

JMiller—J stands for Joel. 

Fuck. 

“You. . .” you begin, panic raising in your voice. “You’re. . .” 

He nods, “I think we both know why I didn’t sleep much last night,” he extends his hand again. “Huge fan by the way. You’re great and this is awkward as hell.” 

“It is,” you whisper. Still, you take his hand. “It is.” 

“You’ve never had someone come up to you on the street before?” he asks, curious. “I would assume you get recognized a lot.” 

“Not as much as you would think,” a cruel, humorless burst of laughter drops from your lips. “People don’t exactly want their partners to know they’re watching me. But if they’re alone yeah. . . sometimes they’ll say hi.” 

Or they’ll ask inappropriate questions and be weird about it but he doesn’t have to know that. 

Now that he’s mentioned you bumping into others, you’re not sure why it felt like the end of the world before. You feel embarrassed, flustered even, two emotions that a client shouldn’t be making you feel. 

“Well,” he breaks the silence, moving his jaw as he opens the door for you. “Thanks for the coffee.” 

“Technically you bought it.” 

“Right. . .” 

The two of you are out in the street now, staring at each other, contemplating what to say. He scratches the back of his head, then his fingers move to rub at his jaw. Arousal gathers between your thighs, it’s not your fault, now that you know that it’s him, your body acts accordingly. 

“Are we still on for tomorrow?” 

You still for a moment before answering, “Yeah.” 

He turns and leaves, you do the same, only in the opposite direction. 

After learning your name, Joel completely abandoned his rule of you calling him 'sir', making you moan his actual name as frequently as he could. His name stuck to your tongue. It might as well have been tattooed under your bottom lip. He was possessive in the way he asked, in some instances even begging for you to say it—and you fucking loved it. You loved this sick claim he had towards you now that you two had officially met. You loved how much more eager he was to see you make a sticky mess between your thighs. You love how cock dumb he made you feel without actually being there to fuck you himself. 

He even started doing his version of online aftercare. Mostly he would just talk, tell you about every-day things as you came down from your high. Or he would murmur a song. You never asked if he was a musician, he had a nice voice. 

It’s the beginning of the session and you’re getting ready. He says he enjoys watching the preparation you do for him so you decided to start streaming five minutes earlier, allowing him to watch. You really need him today. You had a rough day with an order mix-up, and your mom isn’t the best at dealing with mishaps. He clears his throat, which draws your attention to him. 

“Is something wrong?” you ask. 

“No no, everythin’ is fine, sweetheart. I just. . .” he sighs. “I want to ask somethin’.” 

“Ask away.” 

“Can we—Would you want to—” he groans in frustration and you start grinning. His frustrated pout is adorable. All you want to do is smooth the crease between his brows with your thumb and give him a kiss. 

“Joel Miller,” you tease, not missing the way his breath catches in your throat. “Are you asking me out on a date?” 

Oh god, you hope your intuition is right. If it isn’t this call is about to get really awkward. 

He flushes, eyes dropping as he nods. 

“Is that okay?” 

This is highly unprofessional, “More than okay. I’d love to go on a date with you.” 

His grin is infectious. 

“Good,” he lets out a breath then settles back against the couch. “Now show me those pretty tits, honey.” 

You can’t believe you’re actually in JMiller’s, aka Joel’s, home. 

The date had gone better than you expected. He was kind, charming, and chivalrous which were all qualities you haven’t seen for a while. Ever since you started streaming you hadn’t been on many dates and frankly, after a while, you purposefully avoided them. It just felt like asking for drama that you had no intention of dealing with. But Joel wasn’t like that. He could be blunt, a bit grumpy, yet also kind. He had taken you to one of his favorite pubs. Beers accompanied by the best jalapeno poppers you ever had equated to one of the finest dates you’ve ever had. 

He was a contractor, had a daughter in college, and a younger brother. His mother and father had passed a long time ago and ever since Sarah left, he’d been feeling lonely. He’d admitted shyly that that was the reason why he signed up on Ravish. He wanted company. 

You found it incredibly charming. 

As soon as Joel closes the door behind you two, you fall into each other’s arms. He kisses you with fervor, tongue slipping between your lips as he breathes you in at the same time. You feel him everywhere. Large hands squeezing your hips, waist, breasts—it’s intoxicating. You moan wantonly into his mouth, your lids falling when he sucks your tongue into his mouth. He tastes like beer and you’re pretty sure you do too. 

Joel pushes you up against the wall, knocking the air from your lungs while you continue to chase his lips with an insatiable need. You can’t bear to be separated from him, not even for a second. He drags his lips down your neck, mouthing at your jugular, sharp teeth nipping the sensitive flesh. Your hips jerk to meet his and with a growl, he pins you back to the wall. 

“Don’t,” he grunts. “I’ve been waitin’ so long for this honey, so fuckin’ long.” 

Your lips curl, a challenge lingering in your eyes, “Show me then, big boy. Show me how bad you want to fuck your slut.” 

“Fuck,” he hisses, gripping your chin harshly and pulling you in for another kiss. Your teeth clink together, he pulls back just as quick, the muscle in his jaw twitches. “Fuck,” he breathes out again. “You have quite the mouth on you, darlin’.” 

You have no recollection of how the two of you clamored upstairs, stripping one another in a lustful haze. The time you realize you’re naked is when you feel the cool air of the room caressing your burning skin, he leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses down between your breasts, fingers eagerly working your nipples as he forces you to walk back until your back of your knees hit the bed and you fall. 

Not wanting to give in so easily, you wrap your fingers around his heavy cock. It juts angrily between his legs, answering your touch by drooling all over your palm, slickening your movements. You jerk him until he’s fully hard, his breathing heavy as he rolls his hips to meet the tightness of your fist. He sinks his teeth into your neck, the pain that blossoms coaxes a moan from you, your own wetness growing between your legs. 

“I knew you’d be fucking big,” you whisper, tongue toying with his earlobe. “So huge—makes me wonder if I can take it. . .” 

“I’ve seen you take bigger,” he groans, hips stuttering. A whimper drops from your lips, you want him, you want to feel him inside, want to feel his come dripping out later. You feel thick fingers spreading your soaked folds, he drags down a middle finger between them, licking himself into your mouth as he draws circles around your aching clit. “So wet for me,” he rasps. “Gonna make a mess in you, honey.” 

You gasp, “P-Please.” 

He lines himself against your entrance, teasing you, stretching you subtly with the bulbous head of his cock. Your head falls back and your back arches into him. He draws a hard nipple between his lips, closing them as he sucks. Heat rushes all over your body, arousal thick on your tongue. You clutch the sheets. He smiles as he pushes in, filling you inch by inch with a lax jaw and a dazed gaze. 

He stops and waits for you to adjust to him. Joel’s forehead drops against yours, dampness growing between the skin. You feel his breath fanning your face, so warm. There’s a hint of pain, the type that makes you flutter around him. He feels it too. The way you tighten against him, your body begging for more. He obliges. Pushing further and further until his hips are flushed against yours. His jaw is clenched tight, his breathing heavy. 

“Fuck you feel so good,” he presses fleeting kisses all over your face. It’s ticklish and if all your senses wasn’t narrowed in between your legs, you would’ve giggled. 

Your body jerks as he pulls back, the pleasure you feel is instant and overwhelming. You’ve missed the feeling of actual flesh inside of you. Joel snaps his hips forward, locking your breath in your throat, with a moment of desperation you wrap your arms around him and pull him closer. He fucks you in earnest. Every thrust desperate. Every thrust needy. He seems lost in you, whimpers, groans and grunts trembling in his throat and chest. You spread your legs wider, wanting more of him, wanting your cunt to take the shape of his cock. 

“Harder—” you cry out. “Take it—Take what you want—” 

Your arms fall limp, his body moving up and towering over yours. Joel grips your thighs tight before lifting them, he jackhammers into you, tugging and pulling at you like a brand new fucktoy. He splits you in half. The force of his movements making you scream. You don’t miss the way he grins wildly, dangerously. Something dark and haunting washing over his face. 

Your eyes grow wide, your heart beating in your throat, making it hard to swallow. It happens all at once, you clench around him, arousal pouring between your legs in a way it never had before. The look, the cock, the man behind it all—everything combined pushing your mind into the deep stages of want and need. Your eyes roll back, your hands coming up to pinch your tight, tingling nipples. You sob his name, your voice hoarse as you beg him for more and more and more—

“W-Wait, darlin’ if you squeeze me like that I’ll—!” 

A series of curses drops wildly and unintelligently from his lips. You feel him. The heat of his seed filling you to the brim, his cock throbs and twitches, spurting into you again and again. Your lips break into a satisfied smile. Instinctively, Joel pushes deeper, shoving your combined slick even deeper. 

“Shit,” he says catching his breath. “I-I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I usually last. . . longer than that. I—” 

You shush him and cup his cheek. You’re so pliant right now, floating happily in the air. You let out a sigh before willing your lips to move. Has talking always been this taxing? 

“It’s okay Joel,” you slur your words, smiling lazily. “I take it as a compliment, that felt fucking good.” 

“Yeah?” he sounds so innocent and hopeful that you can’t suppress your giggle. His eyes twinkle under the dimmed light. “Well, I’m glad you felt good, sweetheart but I’m not done yet.” 

Your breath hitches when he pulls out, your brows furrow as a chill settles between your legs. You wanted him to stay inside longer. But you’re pleasantly surprised when he slides down your body, kissing every patch of skin before settling between your legs. 

“Let’s see if you’re as sweet as you’ve been tellin’ me.” 

He kisses your cunt, lips moving in tandem with your wet folds. He drags his tongue up between them, curling it as he takes himself into his mouth, tasting both of you at one. You go limp at the pressure of his tongue, your walls fluttering and squeezing for more. With a groan, he shoves his fingers, the wet sound makes your toes curl into the mattress. It’s like torture, a very pleasurable torture. You gasp when he pulls you flush against his face, the bridge of his nose bumping against your clit as he licks you clean. 

Your build up is spontaneous. You feel it coming, the taste of your orgasm at the tip of your tongue. Joel curls his fingers, sucking your clit between his lips and gently nipping at it. You hips chases his mouth, his mustache chafing the tender skin. Your hands come to each side of his head, threading your trembling fingers through the soft locks, his fingers brush against an especially sensitive spot and you tug at his hair. His throat shakes with a groan. His eyes closing. 

“Do it again,” he mutters. And you do. He starts moaning into your cunt, his hips, despite just spilling inside of you, rutting against the bed. Your nails bite into his scalp and he flicks his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

The tension coiling in you finally snaps, your entire body locking up as you gush into his mouth. He gulps you down loudly, fingers still moving deep inside you. Your throat is dry as ou shout his name, hips stuttering helplessly, he pins you down with both hands, moving his head up and down as the fat strokes of his tongue becomes more wild. 

When he’s finally done feasting, he pulls away with a wet mouth. 

“Wow,” you murmur, curling into him when he lays beside you. “That was. . . wow.” 

“You really had low expectations, huh?” 

“Not low,” you grin. “But not that high either.” 

“Well,” he says, guiding you so you’ll lay on his chest. “I’m glad to prove you wrong.” 

You smile, heart fluttering. 

“Me too.” 

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Last Christmas

21/12: Dressing Up and Dry Humping - Michael Gavey Word Count: 1.8k~ | Warnings: semi-public heavy petting, fingering, dry humping

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

A/N: can be read as a little add on for this series

Even though she's wearing many, many layers of thermal clothes, she's done a good job of making it look like at least half. Black tights, skirt and the worst Christmas jumper she could find in the charity shop. Though not tacky enough to rival the ones she had back home, this one was a close second. Garish. Bright. Unapologetic.

God, it really was Christmas.

A stuffy, hot room, filled with people and steaming roast dinners, one paid for bottle of prosecco by the unj, and then on the lash before they broke up for the holidays. Sounded like a good night to her.

It was nights like this that made her remember last christmas party. Whenever she thought about it too much, the heat began to pool in her belly. Back then, she'd been fearless. Sucking off Michael Gavey in the common room while a party took place next door? She'd never imagine herself doing something so brave now.

Although, she could be tempted. Depends what he was dressed like.

In all honestly it had been a while since she'd seen him last, he'd been so preoccupied with his studies and then when he was done, it was her and…their schedules just never seemed to align at all. Until tonight hopefully.

But as she was filing into the hall, weaving through the groups of friends who assigned their seats at individual tables adorned with candles and Christmas crackers, she realised with a burning embarrassment at the back of her neck she may have misplaced what ‘dressing up’ meant.

Everyone was in smart clothes. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She was only offered a small relief when she spotted Michael, in a neat little button up and smart trousers. His blue eyes glimmered with recognition in a way that her stomach clench, until his brows furrowed in amusement at her…less than smart jumper.

“What the fuck is that?” he half laughed, trying to bite it back as soon as it left his mouth, judging the look on her embarrassed face.

She ran her fingers awkwardly through her hair, brushing it from her hot face. “I um…might have misinterpreted the theme…”

He let out a snort, holding a glass in one hand as his eyes did a full scan of her. Equal parts amused and appreciative. “Misinterpreted? I'd say you did a sharp left—”

She swatted his arm, semi-hard but not enough to hurt, “shut it. It's a Christmas dinner! I thought that meant…you know…festive.”

Michael bit back a grin, leaning over to grasp another glass to offer her, to at least calm her ever-rising nerves. She looked quite out of place amongst the smart shirts and sleek dresses.

She sat beside him at the table, her hands clasped under it to try and hide the design of her jumper somewhat. Michael in turn, patted her arm.

“Hey,” he whispers, quiet enough to not disturb the chatter at the table, “it looks cute. In a ‘holiday disaster’ kind of way.”

She scoffs, taking a tart sip of her prosecco, “thanks, makes me feel so much better.”

“You should,” he replied, leaning closer still. “You’re the only one who looks like they actually want to be here.”

She let out a breathy laugh, watching as the hum of conversation became laughter. Popping champagne corks, the air buzzing with sharp fizz. As dinner was served and alcohol flowed, combined with the holiday spirit, there was the slight edge of recklessness inching closer in.

After demolishing her sticky toffee pudding, watching as Michael beside her scooped the remnants of his crème brulé out the ramekin placed in front of him, she could feel her head swim, watching him. Even something so simple as the hair that curled at the nape of his neck, the slight bulge of his veins on the back of his hand…had that tightening tug in her stomach.

God what is wrong with me...

As the tables were pushed to the walls of the room and music blared, people began to crowd the middle, a sort of dance floor in lieu of a proper one. Those who were dressed posh, sleek, were now a mess of drunken excitement, sticky with alcohol on their skin.

Michael handed her another glass of prosecco, his eyes a little glassy behind his thin, black spectacles. “Come on,” he murmured, reaching for her hand without hesitation. His fingers were warm and firm around hers, and she didn’t even think to pull away.

“Where are we going?” she asked, stumbling slightly as he tugged her through the doorway and into the dimly lit hall.

“Somewhere less…” He gestured vaguely over his shoulder, where two students were drunkenly reenacting a scene from Love Actually. “...that.”

The walls were strung with fairy lights that blurred softly in her vision, the prosecco’s fizz buzzing in her veins. Michael turned another corner, pulling her into a quieter wing of the dorm, laughing softly as their hands remained clasped, glasses clinking.

They stopped in a small, half-forgotten lounge, the kind of place nobody bothered to sit in except during exams. A sagging sofa and a low coffee table sat under a window framed by frosted glass. They stood there for a moment, catching their breath, the air cooler and quieter now.

She smiled lopsided as he turned to her, giggling as her back met the wall with him crowding her.

“Better?” He asked.

“Hmm, I'm still wearing this monstrosity,” she snorted, gesturing down to her jumper again.

His gaze followed, but the flush on his face told her that he was likely looking at something else. In this enclosed space, pressed together in secret, she would be a fool to kid even herself that she didn't feel it too.

She laughs softly. A memory coming to her.

“What?” Michael asks, drawing his eyes back up to her again.

“No it's just…this feels familiar, doesn't it?” She smirks.

He raises his eyebrows, for a moment, unsure what she means. Until the realisation makes his lips turn up at the corners.

“Ah, last Christmas? i think I’m still traumatised by the sound of Jingle Bell Rock,” he quipped, his fingers tracing lazy circles along her hip. “Not to mention the fact that we were two seconds away from someone walking in.”

“Two seconds is generous,” she replied, laughing again, the memory as vivid now as it had been then.

She felt his breath against her neck as he leaned in, propping his glass alongside hers on a nearby window sill, the low rumble of his laugh stuttering against her skin.

“Different room this time, though.”

Her breath hitched but her smile remained, “It’s not exactly the same.”

He hummed, his hand tracing a ladder made up her tights, under her skirt. Her skin tingled anywhere he touched, and especially when he grazed against the gusset. So close.

“Michael, what—”

Rrrip!

She gasped and looked down, wide-eyed, to see his fingers hooked in the delicate fabric, a jagged tear exposing the sliver of black lace beneath.

“Oops,” Michael grinned.

Her mouth opened, then closed, words failing her as she glared up at him. “You didn’t just— those were my good tights, Michael Gavey!”

“Don't full-name me,” he smirked, pushing his chest against hers to further cage her in, his fingers maddeningly hooking into her underwear, relishing in the squeak of surprise she let out as he dragged his digits through her wetness. She would be ashamed to admit how the pads of his fingers combined with the cool air that hit her made her weak.

“Michael..” she warns softly, but he doesn't interpret it as one. 

He's come a long way since blushing terribly, stuttering and nervous with her between his legs.

Her hand found his shoulder, a silent moan escaping her lips, fighting to remain quiet as two fingers slid inside her, too slowly. Too agonisingly slowly. He crooked them forward, towards him, finding her sweet spot after a few moments of exploration.

She internally cursed him for giving him experience he could use against her. He's getting too good at that.

He mouthed at her neck, lowering to where it met her shoulder, pushing into her to the knuckles with a deliberately unhurried pace. She tried to rock her hips to encourage him, to save her sanity and go faster at least. But he didn't.

He was preoccupied.

The way his hips were rolling against hers, the solid press of him through his jeans grinding in time with his fingers. The stretch stole the breath from her lungs but she daren’t say anything. She could feel his breath hitch against her skin as he rutted against her.

She could feel his restraint unravelling slowly, the way his hands trembled slightly even as they worked her, the way his hips ground against her like he couldn’t help himself.

Her fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him closer as he groaned softly into her neck. “Fuck,” he murmured, though the words sounded half to himself. His voice was rough, like he was holding himself back, savouring every moment.

Too drunk, too overwhelmed to rush him, she let her head fall back, biting her lip to keep herself from crying out as his fingers curled just right inside her. He was getting off on this too, and something about that made her heart hammer in her chest.

Her fingers scraped against his scalp as she felt herself clench around him, her lips parting to utter his name but caught by the rolling waves of pleasure viewing through her body. Through the haze she felt the grind of his erection against her thigh speed up slightly, until he groaned, a low shudder, as he drunkenly spilled into his boxers.

For a moment, neither of them moved, the quiet punctuated only by their laboured breathing and the muffled thrum of music still filtering through the dorm walls. His weight pressed heavily against her, his arm wrapped around her waist as though anchoring himself.

“Jesus,” he muttered after a long silence, his voice muffled against her shoulder. He lifted his head to look at her, and she giggled slightly and righted his glasses. He pulled his fingers out from her, but stayed nestled inside her underwear. “We should…probably get cleaned up before someone comes looking.”

She ran her fingers down his face, a look of soft admiration and a gleam of excitement in her eyes.

“Or…” she offered, stealing his attention, “we could make them really regret looking.”

She would never get bored of making him laugh, or smile. And when he did, her chest fluttered with warmth, his own cheeks flushed. The grin that stretched across his face was so boyish, so disarming.

“Just like old times?”

She nodded in confirmation, “just like old times.”

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[weirdlookindog]

"Marc and Toffee stood petrified as a claw-like hand and wizened head crept into view"

William J. Brady (1905-1978) - Illustration for Charles F. Myers' 'You Can't Scare Me!'

(Fantastic Adventures Vol.9 #2, March 1947)

[perseephoneee]

Can you do a isaac lahey imagine where the reader us on her period and freaks out and doesn't know what to do so lydia tells him what to do

hehe yes omg

period talk (isaac lahey x f!reader)

warnings: fluff, period talk, dumb boy

a/n: try the drink mentioned if you want to imagine running through hogwarts on a winter day.

↳ masterlist ↳  want to be shipped with a fic character?

Isaac wouldn't admit it, but he loved the cold weather. He liked when the winter season would hit, and holidays were a topic of conversation. Holidays were the only time his Dad treated him like he was actually proud of him, and despite that fucked up relationship, Isaac couldn't help but romanticize the season. It's why, when Beacon Hills hit a new low for the weather, he was excited to see you at school. Perhaps he could even convince you to skip class and get hot coco with him.

Unfortunately for him, your period had started therefore your mood was sour. The cold just added to your discomfort, and you basically hissed at him when he came by your locker.

"Woah, what did I do?" Isaac recoiled, a nervous laugh on his lips. You took a deep breath before turning and facing him.

"Nothing, you did nothing," you sighed. "I'm just...not doing great."

"Whats wrong?" Isaac inquired, brows furrowed and concern evident on his face. You loved your cute werewolf boyfriend, and while he was very helpful, he probably couldn't do much for you right now.

"I'm on my period," you admitted with a twinge of shame. Talking about these things was never fun, even to someone you trusted. A blush coated Isaac's cheeks as he processed what you said.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Should I, uh, do something?" Isaac stammered, hands in his pockets.

"Just be you, I'm a big girl and can handle myself," you chuckled, lightly slapping his arm as you closed your locker and started in the direction of class. Isaac stood in the hallway a moment longer, before deducing a game plan and targeting the area of the school he knew the familiar red head would be. She was typing on her phone when he ran up beside her, backpack slung lazily over his shoulder.

"I need your help," Isaac said hurridly, earning a squeak of surprise form Lydia. She set two angry eyes at him, and he resisted the urge to run away. Women did not like him much today.

"Stop sneaking up on me like that," Lydia rolled her eyes, putting her phone in her purse. "What is it?"

"Y/N is on her period, and I want to help, but I don't know what to do, and you're a girl and you're smart so I thought you'd have some ideas?" Isaac rushed, lips pressed in a thin line as Lydia cocked a brow at him.

"Why do you have to make everything so dramatic?" Lydia huffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Isaac sent her a look though that showed that he wasn't going to figure anything out, anytime soon. "Look, unless she asks for products, don't bother trying to buy her them-- you'll likely get the wrong ones anyway. Get her her favorite warm drink, a heating pad, blanket, maybe an activity or something calming."

"Drink, heating pad, blanket, activity, got it," Isaac listed out everything, brows scrunched together in concentration. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, during this time, she's always right. Even if you think she isn't, just agree that you're wrong and she's right. Otherwise, she'll claw your eyes out," Lydia crossed her arms, daring Isaac to challenge her. He stayed quiet though, and she loosened up her stance. "I have to go, have fun, don't get killed."

Isaac was never that great at social cues, but he really liked you, and that was enough. Ignoring the uncomfortable feeling taking pit in his stomach, he skipped out on school to go get the necessary things Lydia listed. Starting off with a butterbeer chai, a concoction you created (two pumps caramel, two pumps toffee, caramel drizzle, and chai); going to CVS for a heating pad and a blanket; then finally the bookstore down the street where he found a book you wanted (after searching through his phone for fifteen minutes trying to find the text where you mentioned wanting a new release). By the time he had finished his grand adventure, school was out and he would be able to surprise you.

You were having a crappy day with a side of more absolute garbage, so you were very pleasantly surprised when your golden hair boyfriend comes bounding up the street as you exit the school building.

"Woah, where's the fire?" you chuckle. You finally take notice of the bags he's carrying, as well as the drink.

"These are for you," Isaac stutters, passing you the drink. You peer in the bag and can't hide the grin on your face as you take in the plethora of supplies he got. "I know you weren't doing well, and I felt bad, so I got some stuff."

"Isaac, you are the sweetest puppy of a boyfriend a girl could ask for," you smile, wanting nothing more than to pick him up and twirl him around (he is too tall, you are too small). "How did you know what to get?"

"I asked Lydia," he mumbles, staring at his feet. You fight back a chuckle.

"Probably the smartest thing you could've done."

"That was my thought process as well," he chimes, scratching the back of his neck and shooting you a grin. You lean up, kissing him on the corner of his mouth and looping his arm through yours.

"C'mon, lets go hide from the cold together and I'll bitch to you about life," you chime, the cold dusting yours and Isaac's cheeks in shades of pink.

"Sounds perfect, just like you," Isaac smiles, kissing the top of your head as you walk off back home.

[brimbrimbrimbrim]

The Bear and The Baker: Chapter Five - REPEAT (NSFW)

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five

Summary: She’s relatable and willing to help him figure out how to stop spiraling down a dark hole of anxiety, but she’s pretty and sweet and knows what to say and do… and Carmy just can’t help himself.

(big thanks to @novemberbluesky for beta reading this last chapter <3)

Tags: friends to lovers, UST, RST, pining, wet dreams, masturbation, lots of food talk, reader used to be a pastry chef, mental health, panic attacks, anxiety, meditation, oral sex, cunnilingus, premature ejaculation, handjob, desk sex, first times, virginity, mild dom/sub undertones, kitchen sex, love confessions, blowjobs

Words: 4k

TW: panic attacks

"Christ-" you whine, digging one hand into Carmy's greasy curls on the crown of his head, the other gripping the edge of his desk as his tongue swirls around your areola. Short, sandpaper stubble abrades the bottom swell of your breast as his face presses in, lips open and cheeks caving against your nipple. It's agonizingly good. Each suck and insulated lick's all gummy, sweet, and marvelous like he's molding burnt sugar with his tongue or… or something like that… 

It's a little difficult to think when you're tipped backward, seesawing in Carmy's lap, lower spine against the desk's edge, trembling beneath his hungry attention that switches aimlessly between both bare breasts. Somewhere on the floor lays your bra and maybe your sweater… soon to be home to the rest of your clothes because if Carmen Berzatto doesn't fuck you in the next ten minutes, you're gonna do it for him. 

"Carmy," you hiss, lashes tangled shut and fingers yanking at his scalp, "... teeth. T-too sensitive." 

He pulls away with a moist pop. His upper lip hooked over your swollen nipple, throbbing from a single overzealous bite.

"Sorry," he swallows, slick lips worrying over the tender bud, "… sorry, baby." 

His hot breath fans away the ache, and a wet kiss to the peak dribbles dolce pleasure down your belly, straight between your thighs. Beneath you—against your pelvis—his cock is a dense rod that fogs your senses. 

It's a thicker feeling than it had been even in your mouth. 

Carmy isn't small… which, to be honest, surprised you slightly at first. You've never had anything larger than average, and his approach to flirting and intimacy didn't warn you of anything daunting… though, over the years working in the service industry, food and further niche pockets of upper-class culinary gave you an appreciation for how wrong first impressions could be, as well as a few ulcers and a pesky panic disorder…

Carmy stretches his fingers against your naked spine and presses his hips forward, thighs up, forcing you further into his lap, harder against his sucking lips and branding erection.

"F-fuck," you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut, every draw of his lips sending a throb through your middle.

While a little bit of that time-old anxiety resides in your chest as Carmy kisses and licks all across it, the thrill of something a little scary and unknown is, for once, exciting and not terrifying. But, you grow itchy with each reverent caress Carmy bestows upon your breasts; sweet pecks over their tops, beneath the swell of curvy fat, sweeps of hot tongue across your nipples. He closes his lips around the left to suck it like he had the right, adding moisture to the oven broil that is his mouth. It's slow and lazy, not hurried at all, which only builds up the layers of anticipation until you're rocking against his cock, moaning as he moans… and tugging his hair by the roots, whining as he sucks even harder… those teeth returning in delicate nips. More pleasure oozes through you, dense as caramel toffee, and-

"Taste," he murmurs into your nipple, "so…" an easy bite, "excellent."

Carmy's palm slides across your ribs, then sweep the expanse of smooth skin to your other breast, holding its weight with prickly super glued cuts and fabric bandages. His fingers dent, and a thumb flicks your saliva-slick nipple while the other receives a slash of the tongue. 

"Do you-" you swallow a strained noise and gasp, "Do you want to… fuck me now? W-want you to cum inside me this time."

"Already did…" he murmurs, thumbing your lip with care.

You laugh deliriously, ending the sound with a sigh as Carmy returns to his sweet abuse on your nipples. 

"You know what I mn-mean…." you whimper, fisting the desk's edge a little harder as your fingers release his messy hair to move between your bodies, groping blindly until your thumb bumps across the slippery tip of Carmy's cock, quickly grasping its hot girth for an awkwardly angled stroke, "You're already hard again…"

Carmy's lips slacken, moaning hot over well-loved nerves.

"I want it—want you to fuck me with it this time."

"Ffffuck. Fuck-"Silenced by a squeeze to his dick, you only get a string of stutters as a warning before Carmy picks you up, urging your legs to wrap around his waist before he starts sweeping everything off the surface of his desk. 

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

A part of his brain is sullen over the mess of paper he's just swept to the floor. An empty plastic pint container clicks to the tile; some Sharpies and that mug that says 'How about a cup of shut the fuck up' goes to the floor too, shattering. Carmy pays it no more time than it takes him to give his desk another wide sweep, sending his calendar desktop flopping to his feet as he hauls her up on the edge. The old metal creaks, but the sound is swallowed by an ambrosial moan, dripping with a vanilla glaze as it smothers her lips with his. She still has a lick of brine deep inside from his orgasm, a realization that sends a shiver down his spine—a pulse to his cock.

Her teeth pinch his lower lip, and Carmy shudders anew, hips rocking up to press his dick against the seam of her jeans. She's wearing too much—too many layers between his bare dick and her heated core. 

"Your mug-"she starts, lips sliding off his for a second to glance at the floor, but he's pinching her chin between his fingers and drawing her mouth back to his, eyes off the stupid fucking mess and back to him. A whimper. Another wet kiss, then a bite to his lip, the upper one this time, and Carmy's fingers smooth around her hips, shoving his thumbs in between denim and warm, soft skin.

"Take 'em," a kiss and lick and, "off," then another, deeper slant against his mouth has Carmy trembling with desire. Same shakes he gets on the line when everything's fucked, but nothing about this makes him want to hide in the lock-in and heave through panic and palpitations. Everything about this, right here… it's good—great—and he's gonna do his best to make her feel the same. Replace all that shit about beating hearts signaling their ends and all about it triggering the start of everything .  

"Now," she nips his lip hard enough to snap him into motion.

"Shit," he curses, ripping his swollen mouth away to plant wet kisses across her cheek, down her neck, fumbling with the button beneath her navel. A creeping ache of anxiety fills his throat as his heart pounds rhythmically in his chest, worried he's gonna need help to undress her—worried he's gonna fuck this up, but then he gets lucky as the front clasp comes free, and her zipper slides down easy. Her bottom lifts and Carmy shoves four fingers under denim and cotton, gripping hard and yanking it down her ass and thighs off her calves and ankles. Shoes and socks hit the floor, and ankles return to lock around his bare ass, drawing him and his throbbing dick against the softest, wettest promise he's ever been given. 

It doesn't even register that she's pulling his shirt up his stomach until she gives his chin a peck and asks him to take it off. 'Please, Carmy… wanna see you.' And he's tugging it over his head, sweaty curls falling over his forehead, more exposed than he's ever been… with anyone… 

She kisses him over his pounding heart just above the triangle of ink from his youth. The act causes a palpitation, and a swoop in his stomach, watching her lean back against the desk, spread open and smiling. 

"Fuck," Carmy puffs out, taking in the contours of softness—the peaks and sweat-shined skin perfectly imperfect and deliciously real. That decadent swell of emotion sticks in his throat; it's the same one he felt back when he finally felt like he had a purpose, standing in his toque blanche while the Chef de Cuisine praised his braciole. But it's better now. Refined. Pure.

"Don't keep me waiting," she's smiling, awkwardly sensual, but a beckoning finger above her glistening folds makes his cock bounce. Her gaze drops, staring at it, and Carmy's eyes follow, widening as her heels drag him in, pressed flush—wet and hot. 

Carmy whimpers, licking his lips at the golden-lit sheen of his cock pinned to his stomach by her pussy—the unflagging mass denting her soft mons… dripping precum down between them where it catches the light and the little, stiff bud of her fleshy clit, snug and engorged against a winding vein hugging his shaft. He swallows, holds her hips in both hands, and looks back up, finding her lazy, smiling eyes and hot cheeks. 

"You're sure?" He asks, needing reassurance.

"Very sure.” She smiles until her eyes crinkle, and then gives him a kiss as soft as hand-beaten whipped cream, and Carmy smiles back.

They both shift, her fist wrapping warmly around his shaft, wetting his dick by rubbing his leaky head through her folds. Carmy presses his hips forward when it pops across her clit and grinds a little… just a bit until she's making circles with his cockhead over the tender bud. Carmy could easily cum like this… try as he might, this won't last long, and that's no more apparent than right now… right as she slips his dick down and deep, pulling him in by the heels in his ass. He steps forward, wraps his arms around her, and moans into her mouth.

And Jesus Christ… this isn't just popping his cherry, but emulsifying it into rich, hot syrup, sticky and sweet. The feeling that punctures his spine as Carmy gives in and thrusts, bottoming out with a great, shaky exhale, is without definition… just sensation without a name…

"God," he wheezes into her mouth, trying to kiss her through the steady pulsing around his cock—the whooshing of blood in his ears—the exceptional everything he finds buried inside her for the first time.

First, of many times, he hopes, almost prays. 

"Carmy…" she moans, and he can feel the impatience, another decadent whimper translating into 'move' and 'move fast and fucking hard' so he grabs onto her back and shoulder—arms almost crossed behind her—and dents his fingers in before smacking his hips at a relentless depth. 

She yelps and digs her nails into his scalp. It stings, much like when he was eating her out in his kitchen, and that had been good… she loved that, so Carmy figures 'to hell with it' and picks up the pace, pounding her soaked pussy until she's hiccuping against his lips, whining and groaning and…

… and pushing against his chest, telling him to 'hold on' and 'take it easy' and 'stop…'

"What-what'd I do?" For a second, he gets that flutter in his chest, but not butterflies, just a pause and thick beat that throws cold water down his spine. Did he fuck it up already?

"You okay??" 

" Uh-huh, just— fuck , Carmy."

He stills, carding his fingers through her hair, musing her hot cheeks, trying to get a good look at the damage: watery eyes, a pained creased between her brows, pouty… moist lips so kissable and raw it makes him wanna do anything, and everything to make them curl into a smile. 

"… did I… hurt you or— shit, what'd I do? "

"Cool your jets, Chef," and there is a shaky smile, but something else, "G-give me a second… slower—slow down a little. Please... "

He swallows the sudden urge to ignore everything she's just asked and just… fuck her until the desk dents the wall—until he's stuffing cum inside her like some selfish asshole, but Carmy takes a deep breath against her lips and leans in to kiss her sweaty neck. Acidic brine and umami hit his tongue; it's sex and something even better.

Gradually, the urge to rail her passes, and he just listens, basking in the slick vice wrapped around him. After a few long, drawn-out seconds, her fingers tug at the damp curls on his nape.

"O-okay. Keep going," she sighs, "… just not so rough. Just… just for now."

Carmy nods. Yeah, he can do slow and steady. It's all about patience; he's got that; he just needs to use it for this and not only for stirring jalapeno jelly for six hours straight. Ever so gently, his hips begin to rock slowly and shallowly. Just four or so inches, just a little over half his length, rubbing the delicate outer ring of her pussy. 

"So good," he pants, "… so tight. How— fuck —how much longer?" Carmy doesn't wanna sound too eager or presumptuous, all traits he despises in himself and others, but… fuck… so good. His thrusts start going choppy as she shudders against him.

“I mean… is this…” Carmy gulps and tries to word that last bit better, "Is this okay?"

"Little more… you're, uh , a little too… big… and girthy."

Carmy halts with the swollen bulb of his cockhead held thickly inside her as a rush swoops into his balls, pulling them taut to his body, ready to burst. He blinks lazily against the crook of her neck, heart hammering, so fucking close to losing it. A bead of sweat runs from his hairline to the edge of his nose as his joints lock, fending off the rip of a climax by replaying whispered verbal abuse from CDCs in his ear…

'You're worthless.'

"Cah-Carmy?"

'Say you're scum. Tell me you're nothing. You deserve to be dead.'

"… you're okay," she says against his temple, planting a kiss over beads of sweat while his cock twitches meanly. He's okay. He's got this… like everything else, Carmy can white knuckle his way through it. And, after a few breaths, the edging of his orgasm fades away. 

"Yeah," Carmy almost chuckles, almost cries, but her palms flatten across his bare back, fingers eroding stoney knots of anxiety with gentle rubbing motions of love and heat. With a nasal sigh, Carmy lets go of the trauma and the expectations and kisses her thrumming pulse point beneath her ear.

"Almost came," he admits, muffled against her throat as he noses her clammy skin. It's so fucking hot in his office—that his mind briefly lands on installing a fan when and if this happens again.

"... hey," she whispers, squeezing him in a tight embrace, "if you cum, you cum. It's more than okay."

He licks his lips and rubs his damp forehead over her collarbone. He can see down her body, between her heaving breasts, at his glistening cock held halfway inside her. No, he's not ready to cum just yet…

With a swallow that clicks in the tiny room, Carmy starts to move in and out of her slick pussy. No more than the first three inches delves through her gummy, vice-like heat. She's so much tighter than he remembers from finger fucking her on his kitchen counter—so much sweeter and mind-melting.

"... ffffuck ," he sighs, "I wanna… gonna make you cum, baby." And again, she makes him want more than good food, sanity, and loneliness. He wants to make her feel good. So… so fucking good. So Carmy slows his roll even more, leaving behind shallow and rhythmic for lethargic and deep. It's almost worse—better—this way since he can feel everything. Each inner ridge plump around his dick, contouring to his girth… sucking him in until his tip is lodged against her cervix. 

Carmy gasps as her pussy flutters around him. Her breath sweats across his hairline.

"... like that," she sighs, clinging to him with hands, thighs, and softness. 

"Right. Good… just," Carmy nods, swallowing, "tell me if—fuck—if you…"

She shushes him softly and rubs down his spine, "Just like this, baby."

He nods again and kisses her pulse, running wet lips up with each slow drag of cock, finding her slack mouth with a great, heavy swell of heat that spreads from his chest out into the very tips of his fingers, toes, and outward. She's a full-body sensation, and while Carmy's never been a sommelier—not even close—he thinks this is what they mean by rounded. Perfect notes that end in words like ambrosia, mellow and rich. Carmy breathes her in with a hard thrust that's still achingly slow, feeling everything.

Her breathing grows ragged, puffing against his lips between wet kisses, her mouth hanging open on a moan so sweet his stomach tightens, and a bolt of pleasure tugs his balls. 

"... god damnit. Hah-hang on," Carmy grunts, grabbing the upper heft of her ass, trying to still the gentle rocking of her lower body as he fights off another urge to cum. She giggles—a din of noise like cooling glass candy—but it's not mean; it's breathless and awe-struck. He knows 'cause that's how his laugh sounds when she pinches the meat of his own ass, filling his office with heavy, happy breaths and her hot whispers of 'cum inside me, baby… I know you want to.'

"You're mean, you know," he pants out, smirking with loose lips when she hums in agreement, squeezing the tight muscles in his back as he shifts on his feet.

He wants to cum, and he will, but it's the same devotion that got him Chef of the Year, which makes him hold off, wanting to prove he can make her feel the same bliss she brings him. There's always his tongue, he thinks, almost giving into that primal urge, but this is different. Carmy wants to feel her cum around his dick, so he sucks down his pounding heart, stabilizes his feet shoulder-width apart, his posture precise, then swiftly pulls her to the edge of the desk, hands sweeping to the backs of her thighs with a squeeze. He tilts her beneath the cabinets spilling with unfiled paperwork, knees up against her glistening breasts, and fucks forward. 

" Haaah-ah… fuck, " her fist grips the desk's edge, the other shoved flat under the cabinetry, "D-do that again," she hisses, then softer… sweeter, begs, "... please."

Carmy does it again, just as hard and swift, getting a sound out of her that's pornographic. He does it three more times, just until he feels her thighs trembling in his palms, then lets his cock slip completely out.

"Wha… what are you-"

He grabs his wet dick and smears the head through her folds, nudging the plump bulb of her clit, ignoring how good it feels to tap and rub it with his plush cockhead, focusing instead on the quiet puffing moans… the way her hips grind forward, swirling herself against the raw contact.

"Jesus Christ, Carmy. If you… keep doing that," she pauses to whimper, "I'm gonna cum."

"I'm gonna make you—fuck—gonna fuck you until your too fuckin' weak to walk out of here," he promises, giving her clit a final, sticky smack before pressing down and back in with a hard thrust. It's effortless this time. She's so impossibly wet.

He fucks her just like she wants, giving unforgiving, precise thrusts, bottoming out at an angle that combs over her thickened sweet spot. With every slap of his hips, he can feel it firming up. Each meticulous, well-angled motion dials her moans up higher. Her hands are suddenly around his waist, holding on tight. That flutter he felt before becomes a wet, noisy slurp, getting wetter and louder… tighter and hotter. Carmy repeats his method several times: thrusting, pulling out, rubbing and tapping, back inside… fucking… and pounding until his heart's in his throat and sweat running down his temples, stinging his eyes. She's just as wrecked, perspiring under his hands on the backs of her knees, licking it off her upper lip and cheeks, hot and shiny.

"... oh, fuck—I'm… yes," she rips a hand off his side to lay flat on his desk. Her hips start to meet his in a messy, slippery mash. 

Carmy watches, hypnotized. The jiggle of her breasts is only one of many mouth-watering delights like she's some feast prepared just for him, by him… steaming, boiling, cooking him alive. Fuck, he's not gonna last… and she's so close… 

Just a little more—just another minute or more.

“I-I-fuck, fuck… I got this…”

He's chewing on his lower lip, watching the rapid blur of his cock as it pistons and slaps, disappearing and emerging, covered in shiny arousal. Her pussy is raw and swollen, her inner lips hugging him. She's sobbing, tears in her eyes, and, for a second, Carmy thinks he's done something wrong. Maybe he's hurt her… perhaps she's been pretending all along, or maybe he's been too selfish to take her hiccuping moans for what they really are, but then she's pressing up and forward, clawing at his back, leaving red welts through sweaty skin, shivering and trembling. 

She yelps like someone spilled boiling water over her lap, then clenches down on his dick in a way that throws him into the back of his own body. It's all auto-pilot now…

“... fff’uh-fuck!”

Grunts rush between his teeth, his lips pressed into a white, pulsing line as the office fills with the rapid, wet slap of skin meeting skin; it claps with her 'uh' and 'ah's and his hot gushing exhales. He feels a fever wash over him. 

Carmy winces with nails in his back, feeling everything all at once until the pressure in his lower back doubles, gripping his pelvis, balls, and upper thighs… until… it just… snaps…

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

A dim flicker of sapphire catches in his left eye from the lamp light. It glitters and gleams. Melted ice. 

Deep lines grin beneath his eyes, trapped emotions spilling free. It would be odd coming from anyone else, but you think it's beautiful with Carmy. 

Popping your cherry or lancing a wound, you think only partially consciously; sometimes , the difference is slim to none.

His dick twitches inside you, deep and thick, almost parallel to the soft, vulnerable line of his lips, their downward hook on either side and the tremble in the lower plush. Your hand finds his jawline, the scratchy five o'clock grating. His shoulders tense and shake, but he takes a great breath and lets it out as your palm moves upwards, a thumb sweeping away the tear before it can fall. It all feels terribly romantic until his right eye brims with moisture, and a drop escapes, leaving a line of shine behind. 

"Oh, Carmy…" you murmur without thinking, "Should we have laid you out on a feather bed your first time?"

Judging by the silence, your poor attempt at a joke goes over poorly. A sick prick of anxiety settles in your chest as another tear breaches his lashes. Quickly, you shift despite your sore back, midway to wrapping both arms around him when his lips twitch. Carmy smiles—a snort of hot breath and then a smirk.

"I don't know, blowing my load in Mikey's office feels pretty good," Carmy's smile lifts tight on one end, "I mean, I loved the asshole, but this is…" a whistling sigh, "pretty sure he deserves this. Sorta payback."

"Could say it's also a comeback, " you grin, relishing the surprised cough of laughter from Carmy, lashes fluttering when the both of you feel his dick jostling softly inside you.

"Hey," he whispers, the vibe dropping to somber, "you're okay, though? Right?"

"M'hm," you smile, leaning in, fingers teasing the sweaty curls at his nape, "are you… okay? "

Your lips press in, brows up and open to reassure him you won't judge his answer. When he stays mute, you thumb the slick spot behind his ear, "Seriously, I mean… first times should be a bit… nicer than this. Not that it wasn't nice—it was great—the best—I just… I, uh, hope it lived up to your expectations." 

Jesus, you think you sound like an executive apology video. 

Carmy's smile drops for a second, eyes lazy and large, looking into you like he sees each stutter, each heartbeat, and flaw, loving it all. Tentatively, he closes the distance, kissing you as if it's the first time… like, after everything, there's a chance you'll pull away... 

"It's perfect," another kiss, "it's fucking perfect." His voice breaks a bit with a whisper, "Thank you…."

You swipe a cool tear from beneath his soggy lashes and whisper, "What about these?"

Carmy huffs, good-humored, "Just got something in my eyes, is all."

You snort, then blush, about to apologize for your awkwardness, but Carmy just grins, showing some teeth with that love in his eyes again, and gives you another soft kiss. The aftermath of fucking on his desk is not magical—that's not how reality works—but it's relaxed. There's something like butterflies in your tummy when Carmy fails to bite down a whimper as your bodies disconnect, releasing a hot trickle of cum between your crushed globes.

Paper wings flap harder when he excuses himself with a stutter, begging you to 'stay right there' using his hands to coo you into stillness before rushing on weak knees out of the office, black jeans still sagging around his bare ass. He returns with a wet cloth, muttering 'shit' under his breath as he hesitates at the mess dripping off the desk. 

"Bet you wish I made a mad dash to the bathroom now, hm?" He blinks, looking a little hungry. You chuckle, feeling your muscles tighten and cum ooze. Carmy just gulps and finally slips the rag between your splayed thighs.

"Naw," he smirks, nose against yours as the pressure of the damp cloth, his hand, and your swollen folds brings your heat beat south, "it's a good look on you."

"You're filthy."

It might be far more awkward to share this vulnerable moment with him, where his shaky palm wipes away your combined fluids from your sore pussy, your hips tilted out, and his other hand raising one leg. The kiss he presses to the cap of your knee? That should be corny and sickly, but it makes your heart skip happily… happy skipping… as if you'd forgotten it could do that.

"Thanks," you whisper, lower lip between your teeth.

"Sorry-" he winces, trying to dab away a dollop on your inner thigh, "-sorry, there's uh, there's a lot. Jesus. I really made a mess, huh?"

Something about the quiver of awe in his voice makes your pussy contract again, more cum heating out, only for Carmy to wipe it up with a groan of, "Fuck me… kinda looks like a" He stops, but you know exactly what's going through his mind because he thinks in food and sauces like you feel in flour and candied orange peels.

"A creampie? A twinkie? Bavarian Cream Donut?"

Carmy's lower lip droops, his face ruddy red. You think he will flounder for words like a fish for air, but he drops his head, shoulders limp, and shakes with a quiet laugh. He rubs at his nose and smirks, thumb and forefinger pinching the tacky fat of your inner thigh, right where that stray drop of jizz had been a moment ago. Cheeky and happy, you think, liking the look on him so much that you lean forward and plant a peck on his blotchy jaw. 

You both help each other dress in comfortable silence, nothing but the howl of the wind outside the restaurant and distant car horns.

As Carmy tugs the hem of your sweater around your hips, he swallows—the sound of a bomb in the quiet, "Do you… wanna maybe get some coffee?"

"Thought you didn't fuck with caffeine?" You smirk, watching his hooded eyes open up a bit more as his gaze lifts from your chest to your lips, then your eyes. He matches your look, then drops his sweaty face into the crook of your neck and mumbles, "Yeah, but…" followed by three little words. They're a whisper, more like, but they feel loud and real… more real than anything—more real than the sex, panic attacks, or kneading the dough with a head chef screaming in your ear…

"I might…" you pause, sliding your arms around his shoulders, fingers threading over the back of his greasy scalp, "… feel the same way."

His response is a hug hotter than the heat rattling in the walls, tighter than the choke of fear, but soft, sweet, sugared, and spiced. 

"Heard, Chef."

And you love him, fierce and suddenly, yet not so sudden as it suddenly feels.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Carmy doesn't mess with caffeine like she said, and he must have said at some point, but he's sipping on a cup of black because it's midnight, and he's not done just yet. Somehow, against all odds, he made her cum on his cock less than an hour ago, but it's still two to one in his favor, and he wants to study how her brows lift and crease when she orgasms at least once more tonight. 

"You're being pretty quiet for someone who just got laid, ya know?"

He looks up to find the woman he wants to spend the rest of his shitty life with, looking just as flushed as she did when she came.

"We're not having an existential crisis, are we?" She says it with some humor, but it's dusted in insecurities and quickly covered by a sip of tea. Carmy can sniff that shit out faster than she can hide it cause he understands that shit all too well, but it's nothing like she thinks. If anything, he's almost more nervous to admit how wrapped in his thoughts she is—how soaked into his skin she feels. After what they did an hour ago… as if getting his dick wet has made him some fucking horn dog, she's all he wants to do. Kinda like trying to make up for lost time, maybe.

"Another one? Naw. No, I'm just…" he looks around the coffee shop; it's quiet—it's late—but there are still a couple occupied tables, "I was just-did you wanna… I dunno," he shrugs, looking into his coffee, "come back to my place tonight?"

Her cheeks are blushing near swollen when he glances up, but the smile on her face bolsters his confidence. All that fragrant affection and sweetness makes Carmy feel warm despite the chill the old coffee shop's heater just can't shake. 

"Sure. Did you, umm… " her thumbs brush the lip of her cup, "what-what did you wanna do?"

"Fuck you again," it's an exhale laced with self-deprecating humor to mask his nerves.

"Oh," her lips form a puffy little circle, reminding him how it felt to have them wrapped around his cock earlier. The light rush of blood to his groin almost makes him laugh, like his body waking up for the first time. Carmy needs to reign it in… doesn't wanna come across as desperate or greedy, but then again…

"Sorry, that was… I just-just wanna keep doing whatever this is." He tries to emphasize whatever 'this is' with a palm waving against his chest, gesturing between them, "Been awhile since I've felt like…" 

The word escapes him, though a quick glance at her soft smile says she gets it.

"This. Yeah," she whispers, grin growing.

"Yea, this." Carmy agrees and takes a sip of black coffee, bitter and nutty; the roast over-brewed but rich. 

"And, yes, by the way… I'm up for round two if you are."

"Good," he breathes out, a mixture of relief and palpitations.

"Good."

After a minute of comfortable silence, an older Italian man sets a ceramic dish of cheese and raspberry danishes on the table, sparing a fleeting glance between them before dropping a few napkins by the pastries and ambling back behind the counter.

Carmy watches over thin steam trails as she slides the dish between them and breaks off a corner heaped with sweetened mascarpone. She pops it between her lips and sighs, "These things are always better a little stale."

Carmy's brows lift even as his lashes lower, "Didn't think you'd be the type."

She throws him a smart look and takes a sip of tea before snapping the Danish in half and shoving the flaky, sticky thing in her mouth. It's adorable—cute and sweet, and Carmy's heart beats a little faster… or is that the caffeine?

"Don't be such a purist, Carmy," she says after swallowing, brushing away crumbs, and licking her lips clean. He thinks of cum and blowjobs and kisses in the dim office back at the shop and nervous habits in the rain beneath the car park… and his breathing stalls for a second. Then she takes another bite and hums at the look on his face like she knows—fucking knows—exactly what's on his mind. 

Like he's become some fuckin' horn dog overnight. Wild to think about. Cousin would probably bark at the moon knowing his baby bitch got laid.

Thank fuck it's Sunday tomorrow.

Carmy's shoulders laugh, lips twisted, "Look, don't for a second think I've never eaten three-day-old pasta out the fridge in the middle of the night… cause I've done even worse than that. Not even ashamed," a pause, "... well, maybe a bit."

"Ah, so your standards are finally called into question, Chef of the Year, " she jokes and gestures for him to finish the cheese danish while she breaks the raspberry one in half. "Seriously, I could never understand why my old pâtissier wanted these batched fresh every few hours… something about the filling solidifying, gunking up the filo… just tastes better the next day."

Nostalgic patina coats her words, her cheeks, and her eyes. It looks sad but full, and Carmy swallows before sinking back into his chair. They've talked about childhoods and pasts a few times, but it feels different now. Things are different, so Carmy scrubs his palm across his lips and settles in.

"When I was a kid, my brother and… we'd make pizzas on the weekend, right? Just the two of us. Every Monday morning for breakfast, we'd eat the leftovers cold," he says, licking his lips and tasting salt, "but it wasn't just cold pizza, like, it was homemade, so not so bad. But the thing is, we'd end up ladling these huge globs of jelly and peanut butter on them, fold 'em in half, and have these cold pizza peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch."

"That sounds…" pausing, then her nose scrunches with a smile, "super gross."

Carmy laughs silently, "Not as gross as congealed sweet cheeses."

The sadness melts away, and her eyes twinkle with mirth. 

" Mmm, same level of heresy, but… that's the power of nostalgia, yeah? As kids, we eat what's there or easy, and it sticks with us…"

"Guess you could say food's good at that."

"Hm?" It's a mindless sound as she stares intently ahead, right into his own sleepy, dreamy gaze mixed with gap-toothed times of old and love-drunk highs of now.

"Memories," Carmy clarifies, "You know, making us feel shit when we're—fuck, I dunno—when we're struggling… like a stale danish can make us just fucking forget about everything for a while."

"… yeah. Or like, not just forget but feel."

"Yeah." He likes that. Feeling instead of forgetting or reliving bullshit that leaves him full of grief and bitterness. If he squints, looking for those feelings, they're far away, replaced by syrupy sweetness and sex hormones.

"Heh, yeah." She muses with a blush, fingers pitter-pattering against her cup of tea, eyes trained through the dark window pane on her right and then back at him with an even deeper color, "So, umm… think I'm ready to go—go back to yours I mean."

"Bake some fresh danishes, right? Or?" Carmy smirks, feeling oddly confident.

A coy little smile hitches up on one side of her face, "Or, maybe danishes if you're lucky."

"First time… starting to think I might be."

Lucky… yeah.

AO3 Link: HERE

[prince-toffee]

L I F E I S A H I G H W A Y !

Written by Prince-Toffee (me)

Art by the absolutely supreme @themazziah @cosmiccanineart

Created as part of The @spopbang 2024

Before we begin, I just want to say thank you to @themazziah for creating this absolutely gorgeous piece of art that you're looking at right now. It was so good in fact that I was inspired to rewrite the story to incorporate it into the narrative. When writers and artists were being paired up, I was sure I'd be left without a partner, but after you said that I was your first choice I was honestly so moved and touched. Thank you for picking me. Nothing I write could ever express how lovely it feels to read a kind comment like that. And that's why I'll try to get back into writing Entrapdak fics, it's been a while, and I'd love to do more, the world can never have enough Entrapta and Hordak in it. (and Glimmadora, my first time writing them, hope I did okay) Thanks, Mazz, I hope this story gives you a good few chuckles.

Second of all, thank you to all the organisers of @spopbang I may not know many people there well, but right from the start people were nothing but kind and helpful, and this event is a beautiful gift to the fandom. You guys are absolutely amazing!

Finally, on a more personal note, this is a three parter, I could only manage to finish Act One before the deadlines as I was working on my final university assignments at the same time, and now I'm finished and free! And I can't think of a better way to celebrate! I'll try to get the rest of the story out as soon as possible. I hope you enjoy this little space road trip.

Life Is A Highway

Act One (of Three)

~One Year After The Defeat of Horde Prime

CloneTown, or as the inhabitants of the settlement chose to dub it, Doormat, was a small shanty town at the foot of Mount Dryl on top of which Castle Dryl stood. The doormat of Dryl, of Etheria, of the universe, Adora assumed that was the intended joke. The warrior of light examined the sign closely, a hastily put together sign stood before her, it read: ‘Welcome To’ with CloneTown crossed out. A separate board, made of wood not matching the rest of the sign, was nailed underneath, on it carved crudely was ‘Doormat’. Adora never knew clones had a sense of humour, then again, it wasn't like she spent much time among them. Or at all. As She-Ra, the Protector of Etheria, she visited many villages on the continent, observed as many cultures of as many people as she could, opened her heart and reached out a helping hand to all... all except the newest refugees of Etheria. Every time she had ventured to a clone settlement, she felt unease - most villages across Etheria worshipped her (so to speak, and that invited its own unique forms of exhaustion), but when she set foot on clone grounds, she felt unwanted, which of course, she was. Perhaps the unease emerged from the fact that all the staring eyes that silently watched her stroll into town as she did so now, all belonged to the same face, the face of her old master. One she worshipped in her youth, but no longer. But that didn't matter now, now she was walking down the muddy roads of Doormat, and attracting quite a few puzzled, angered glares. Adora approached in her normal form, strolling up as a 9-foot-tall glowing, radiant, goddess might have been a bit too much. Not that it mattered too much as she still stuck out like a sore thumb, she was the only non-clone in the village, nothing she could do about that. The warrior was cloaked in torn and tattered robes, a hood obscuring her face, so at least they didn't know who she was.

Soon enough the Warrior of Grayskull happened upon her destination, Bar Nefcy, a local, clone-ran establishment. She got a bit lost, but Entrapta’s directions were correct. There was a hanging sign spelling out the bar’s name in uncharacteristically bright pink paint. Almost acting as a centrepiece of the town. From what she heard about it, the establishment acted as a sort of neutral ground for clones: regs, defects, and whatever came between. And as she entered the establishment, she wondered whether that mentality and ideology would extend to her. And almost immediately she got her answer as the chatter throughout the room stopped, all the various patrons turned to look at her, a sea of red and green eyes staring into her. She wasn't exactly scared, if anything came down to violence, she had plenty to keep herself safe, including the enormous broadsword channelling cosmic energy that would transform her into the most powerful woman in the universe. Adora made her way over to the barline and sat herself down, each of her footsteps making the wooden floor creak, which could be heard over the silence.

She attempted to stay invisible and stay silent until her contact would show up, however that turned out to be unlikely as she caught a glimpse of her bartender, a small “Oh!” escaped her and she immediately regretted it, and felt awful about it. Adora’s bartender did not look like a regular clone, he was downright bizarre, he was overgrown with vines, flowers, and moss, all intertwined and weaved into the clone’s being. Where his eyes would be, now two thick vines ran outward spreading into a patch of moss and grass atop his head. Effectively rendering the man, blind. Admittedly, she stared for a bit too long, but she didn't think he'd know.

“Well?!”

“?”

“I may be as blind as a bat, but my hearing is as good as ever. I heard you walk in and sit down, the floorboards are on purpose. So? What’ya want?”

Adora gulped, and put on her best diplomatic voice, “No drink for me, sir. I only ask permission to stay in your bar for- I don't know, uh, a few more minutes. I'm meeting a... friend, shall we call him. A clone. I'm a friend! An ally!” Whoof. She never had to pull that card out before. The bartender didn't seem to look convinced. The diplomatic voice slipped halfway through all that. “Please.” She finished with an awkward smile on her pinched face.

“Uh huh, look this is a clone-establishment, not for… natives. You're unsettling my clientele, so if you'd be so kind and find the exit as I can't, ya know on the account of a magic flower growing out of my face. Good day, Princess.” Wait he knew? How? Was her voice that recognisable?

Just then another voice rose from the back of the bar, from a far corner booth, “Ah, come on Manny! I thought this was a ‘neutral ground’ and whatnot. You gonna denie the guy their poison? They're just trying to get through today like the rest of us.” The bartender, who Adora now knew was named Manny, groaned in annoyance, if he could roll his eyes, he would have. Adora turned around to see where the voice was coming from. There, far in the back, in the corner booth, set an elderly patron a clone no doubt, he spoke with the same voice. But he too looked downright bizarre, unlike all the other clones. This clone was thin, like a skeleton, he looked sickly. (A defect, they were called, she believed, though not entirely sure). The lower half of his face looked normal enough, well for a clone that was. But the top half of his head was a glass-like red dome with some strange displays flashing inside like a radar monitor. And not only that, protruding out of his face was a long witch-like nose, sharp as a knife. Almost as sharp as the red teeth that formed a, what was meant to be a friendly, smile.

The clone wore a mechanical suit (of armour?) that framed his skeletal features. His feet were kicked up on top of the table. His feet resembled… clamps? Like mechanical vulture talons. There was another clone at the corner booth with them, but they had their back turned to Adora, they were clearly uninterested in this interaction. The vulture-like clone stood up and wobblingly made his way over to Adora. It was clear he was drunk. But from Manny’s reaction she gauged that this was his default state. The bird-like man spoke up again, “Leave the freak alone. ‘Serve all, not one’, right?” The woman noticed that the clone acted as if he had a cup or glass in his hand... But he didn't, there was no drink in his curved hand.

“V,” Manny spoke, so that was his name, “Should have known this freak was with you, something always happens when you're around here. Trouble seems to follow you wherever you go, and you always bring it here. So why don't you take your royal friend, and go lead trouble away from here.”

“I won't cause any trouble, I promise.” Adora proclaimed, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, she placed the page onto the table and slid it over to Manny. “I'm actually here on behalf of the Queen, to hand you this Establishment License to let you run your business officially... it was illegal before, just so you know. As a show of gratitude and togetherness.” Adora gave her best smile. Manny just looked at the piece of paper and groaned, he turned around and walked off with the paper in hand, grumpy. Adora swivelled around back to V, she awkwardly thanked them, “Hey, thanks, uh, V was it? For taking my side. And I'm sorry I caused a commotion here.”

“Eh,” He waved dismissively, “Don't take it too personally kid, Manny over there's still a little peeved that you turned him and a bunch of others into walking compost heaps back when you turned The Velvet Glove into a giant tree, heh.”

“I- I did that to him?”

“Oh, not just him, every clone hibernating in a pod and whatnot. Thousands.”

“Oh, gods, what have I done.” She murmured to herself, she combed through her hair, a thousand yard stare on her face. “I'm so sorry... I didn't know I was unwelcome.”

“Eh,” He shrugged, “Don't take that too personally either, neither is he.” V pointed behind him with his thumb towards the doorway. Adora followed the thumb to the silhouette in the door frame. Hordak. Her drinking partner had arrived.

The Ex-Lord of the Horde entered the establishment and silence befell the bar once more, the collective of eyes glared at him and followed him as he slowly made his way over to the warrior Princess. Not too different of a reaction that they greeted Adora with. V just then realised there wasn't a drink in his hand and so he moved out of the way to give Hordak room to sit down next to Adora. He did so. The villain maintained silence, Adora thought it was to seem intimidating, but in reality he simply had no idea how to talk to people, and was too awkward to be the one to begin the conversation.

Hordak was cloaked in a black cape and hood. His blue, curly, fringe poking out from under the hood. Another thing she just now noticed about Hordak was that his eyes were different, usually fully blood red with black makeup around, just now realising that those must have been contact lenses of some sort, because now she witnessed his real eyes. Soft and organic rather than the glass shields which is what their texture usually looked like. Now his corneas were fully pitch black with black pupils and bright blood red irises, the way they shifted about it somehow made him far more emotive. He was clad in matte black and gun metal grey plated armour with neon red highlights running throughout. No Horde symbol on his chest plate however, The Wings of The Vampire where nowhere to be seen. What Adora didn't see was the First One's crystal embedded within his armour powering his entire suit. He wore the same double slit dress he always wore, thighs on full display. That was certainly a choice.

Adora spoke up first, “Sooo, ahem, I'm sure you're wondering why I asked to meet with you.”

“Yes.” He spoke with his deep, smooth voice, “Entrapta, my dearest, did not disclose why you wished to meet. And why here of all places. I am usually summoned to BrightMoon by the Queen.”

“Weeeell, I thought meeting here might make you feel more comfortable. Heard this place serves drinks to anyone, guess... guess not.”

“Hmm, indeed. I do not drink here. I am unwelcome. I do not blame anyone for that belief. My shunning is just.”

“I thought you'd be a hero to your people, especially after killing Prime and all.”

“You killed Prime. I'm surprised many of my brothers haven't turned to worship you She-Ra Adora.”

“It's just Adora. And more people ‘worshipping’ me is the last thing I want.”

“And as to why many of my brothers hate me? Well, everyone has their own reasons. For many I will always be that authority figure, a High-General, sending them off to their deaths. For others, like Manny here, good man that Manny, they believe my... ‘campaign’ here has led to your people hating them. I destroyed any chance of a peaceful coexistence. I am keen to agree with him.”

Adora didn't disagree, but there was more to it. She did not want to unpack all of it just yet so she chose to instead change the topic of conversation, “Hordak. The reason I wanted to meet with you... I have a job for you.”

“I imagined as much. However, it is usually the Queen who imparts assignments upon me and my brothers. Why this- breaking of routine?”

“Because this concerns the Queen. This ‘job’ isn't her idea, it's mine, in fact, it took a lot of convincing to get her onboard.”

“And the mission is?”

“A road trip, so to speak.”

Hordak quirked his brow. “Ooooh-kay.”

“There is an Intergalactic Conference in the Summit solar system, few galaxies away. Glimmer needs to attend in the next few days. It's quite possibly the most important event in Etheria’s history.”

“And what does the conference pertain to? If I may ask?”

“Securing Etheria’s status in the universe. Glimmy wants to appeal to The Council of The Known Universe and have Etheria recognised as a developed-enough world to join The Council. Ever since Etheria had been freed from Despandos it has been at the mercy of the rest of the universe. As a magical mediaeval world, Etheria’s has been seen by the rest of the universe as ‘underdeveloped’ and ‘primitive’ and as ‘defenceless’. Becoming a part of The Council will grant us safety. Their technology advancements. Limitless food and medicine - access to planets they’ve constructed dedicated solely to agriculture and harvesting. Respect among other worlds. Protection from other tyrants across the cosmos like Prime. Make sure it never happens again. The Council of The Known Universe, turns out, was established to create a barricade against tyrant empires like Prime and The Galactic Horde. Etheria needs protection like that, but there's a problem.”

Hordak placed a hand against his chin as he pondered on the matter, “The Primusians.”

“Yes. You've heard?”

“I have, through the ‘grapevine’ as you would call it; clones talk, or think (telepathically), especially here. V doesn't keep anything to himself. Primus pirates have been assaulting crafts around the system, many of them clones seeking home off-world. They've been quite active since our ‘stunt’ with the Minister of Armament and Defence. You're afraid they have their sights set on the Queen. Making transporting her a major risk.”

“Yeah, you got it. I knew you'd catch on.” Hordak shot her an inquisitive look as well as a bombastic side eye, “Anyway, the plan is to send a new unmanned decoy ship on the route to the conference. Pirates explode it, and hopefully they'll think the bodies got incinerated.”

“That's that then.” Hordak remarked satisfied.

“Yeah, except Glim still needs to make it to Summit. And that's where you, and your... team comes in. I hear you have a ship, don't know how, but you do. You'll escort Glim on the longer way around the Black Donut system and deliver her to the conference on time.”

“That will take days.”

“One week exactly. One way each. That's why I’m here now, the Queen’s orders.”

“It does not sound like the Queen would be thrilled about this idea. My brothers can be... a lot.”

“She isn't. But she knows it's the right thing to do.”

Hordak sighed. “Adora why would I-“

“Because you owe me.” She suddenly became incredibly serious, her glare at Hordak hardened, and Hordak fell silent. He really did. Freeing him from Prime’s influence. Dropping in a good word for him at his trial. He most likely wouldn't have been with Entrapta at all without her. He simply nodded in agreement. “And... because I love her.”

“And you would trust me to keep her safe?”

“The same way I'll keep Entrapta safe while you're gone... So? Deal?”

-        - -

Day One (of Seven)

“No. No deal.” Glimmer remarked defeated. “This is a bad- ugh- I don't like this plan, just stating that for the record.” The Queen of BrightMoon spoke to the holo-pad, arguing with the screen. On the other side of the screen was a smiling but slightly scared Adora. Glimmer marched through the corridors of Castle Dryl, the never-ending labyrinth, that Glimmer was 80% sure was constantly shifting, trying to confuse her. It didn't help that she was constantly going down, deeper into the mountain. Entrapta was the master of traps after all. But Glimmer continued on her path anyhow. She had a map display hovering over the holo-pad that clearly outlined where to go. And surely this wasn't a trap, a planned scheme to assassinate her, right?

“I know what you're thinking; It's not a trap.”

“I- wasn't thinking... that.” She squinted at the map overhead, “I swear the corridors are moving, how is that even possible. It also doesn’t fill me with confidence that Entrapta called this, ‘The Basement’.” The monarch wore her traditional purple outfit, glittering cape, golden accents around the belt, shoulder pauldron, and of course her royal tiara. Her stern look faded away and a sadness took its place. “Why couldn't you’ve come with me?”

“~Oh, StarLight, I'm sorry. I want to always be at your side, and I would be if I could. But the strange signals emanating from the Crystal Castle, it could mean LightHope’s back. And if LightHope is back, which her is she? And why would she be transmitting off-world?”

“So you'll be on the other side of the universe.”

“As soon as I'm done I'll B-line it to you. Just- just wait for me. You're in good hands until then.”

“...I wish I could hold you, I miss you already.” Glimmer's words brought a warm smile to the She-Ra’s face. Adora turned away, avoiding eye contact, a blush rising across her face.

“I miss you too. But please, trust me, it'll be okay.” Adora turned to look at something out of the holo-pad’s view, she sighed, “I have to go. I love you. See you in a week.”

And the transmission terminated.

Glimmer sighed. Already missing Adora’s voice. She believed she was approaching her destination, a large mechanical door stood before her. The GPS on her holo-pad indicated that she had reached ‘The Hangar’. “Okay.” She accepted the journey ahead with one word. Glimmer swiped the touchscreen on her whole pad, the bypass code got transmitted to the control panel at the doors ahead. The green light indicated the door unlocking. And the metal doors slid upward with a hiss. A light spilled into the corridor, so much so Glimmer had to shield her eyes with her hand. She took a step inside and almost tripped over immediately. She looked back to see what it was, and noticed that the floor was littered with a variety of… strange and seemingly unrelated things; Pipes, cables, and various other pieces of machinery, she guessed. There were also art supplies; Paint buckets, brushes, canvases, and spray cans. As she turned around to face forward once again she ducked immediately as she was almost closelined by a low hanging clothing line, various photographs hung up along it. Various landscapes from the brief glimpse that Glimmer caught of it.

“Look out.” A familiar voice called out, but it came from an unfamiliar character. Glimmer followed the voice to match it to the clone face. The man wasn’t even looking at her, which meant she must have yelped quite loudly at some point. She re-composed herself and made her way to the clone, the closer she got, the more details revealed themselves to her. The man was, in fact, a clone, he had the same voice and Hordak’s face, but that was almost where the similarities ended. The tuft of hair on top of his head was dyed in a patchwork of every colour, it was quite strange seeing all that colour on a clone. But the most defining characteristic was the fact that he was wheelchair bound due to his two missing legs, amputated just above the knees. The defect was sat in front of a sizable canvas, a paintbrush in hand and in the middle of creating a new painting. The painting was, no doubt about it, gorgeous. It depicted Doormat, at the foot of Mount Dryl. The light that had blinded Glimmer earlier when she entered had come from the massive open hangar bay doors letting the daylight in. She assumed that was where he got the photos and references from.

“It's beautiful.” She remarked.

“What? This? Thank you, but no, it's just a warm up, and it's hideous. I think I might be having an off day. See that tree?” The clone pointed to a perfectly fine tree on the painting.

“Right.” She should have probably introduced herself, “I'm-“

“Cargo.” He finished.

“Not how I'd like to put it. But yeah, I- uh- I’m Glimmer.”

“I know. You’re the Queen. You send me and my brothers on suicide missions.”

“Yeah... uhmm, yes, soooorry about that, and you are?”

“Moe.”

“Moe. I'll- I'll remember that. Is Hordak here?”

“He's with Entrapta, doing… whatever mad-scientists do. Making time travelling microwaves that send your meal forward in time to when it's already done?”

“Heh, it's Entrapta, it wouldn't surprise me. She can do anything she sets her mind to.”

The joke seemed to resonate with the artist, he smiled, “We're taking off soon, Dak’ll be down in a bit, feel free to get set up on the ship, try getting used to it, the trip’ll be a few days long.”

“Thanks.”

Glimmer turned to the ship in question, The Annihilation it was called. It was a Horde troop carrier dropship repurposed as a mobile home to The Defects as they recently began calling themselves. Looks like they were really owning it. The dropship had a new paint job, no doubt thanks to Moe, an angry face painted over the cockpit, angry eyes and a row of sharp teeth. And a mural on the side of the hull, abstract, but unfinished, she presumed. The ship had Christmas lights hung up all along it, a TV satellite dish on top, and a footpath leading to the lowered ramp into the loading bay. The Annihilation was surrounded by a white picket fence, turf of fake grass, a small cheap fountain (kinda ugly, with a gnome spitting out water at the centre). And a mailbox at the front, not that anyone ever sent in any mail, it was all very cute however.

The Queen of Light made her way into the loading bay, up the ramp, and quickly realised it was... A living room? A TV, a couch, and a carpet. All bolted down so it wouldn't fly out presumably. She was surprised at the mundanity of it all, she was expecting something far more alien or militaristic. While her head was in the clouds she tripped yet again. She growled at her own clumsiness, “What? Do I have two left feet today? What now?” She looked down at what had tripped her up and she almost jumped out of her skin. It was a man, slumped over, on the ground, leaning against a wall, a cable lodged into the back of his head. He was silent, he wasn't moving. Glimmer’s thoughts raced madly; He's dead. They killed someone and stuffed him into their ship. She was looking at a corpse right now!

Then a voice came from above, “Heh, you know that happened to me once.” She looked up to see a skinny man hanging upside down from the ceiling like a bat, he smiled with his bright red fangs, “Mortar shell. Blew me into pieces. Turns out I grabbed someone else’s leg! HA!”

“...Wh- What?”

“Two left feet! We all match so the joints just pop in! Customizable action figures, batteries sold separately.” V cackled to himself as he descended from the ceiling and landed before the monarch. Glimmer wasn't sure how to respond, or what she was looking at, some sort of birdman? She was at a loss for words, since her mind was still on the potential corpse at her feet. “V.” He indicated himself with his hand.

“Is this a dead body?!” She pointed to the clone on the floor in panic and anguish. V craned his neck to look past the Queen. V waved it off matter of factly.

“Eh, don't worry about Drag. Kid’s just taking a nap.”

“So I shouldn't be worried?”

“Oh, well, no, you definitely should. ‘Nap’ so to speak. The truth is far more horrifying. You see little Drag is in a state of constant rapid brain degradation the curjigger he's hooked up to continuously recreates his brain through... woff nanobots? I don't know, Dak’s the one who does machines. The boy fainted not long ago, so he'll be out for a good while.”

“How long is he usually out for?” She still asked panicked.

“Uh, I don't know, varies, sometimes hours, sometimes days, whatever the story needs really. I'm sure he'll be back by the third act.”

“... What are you talking about?”

“I don't know. Anyways, make yourself at home, but not too much, the chaotic mess is on purpose.”

“The ‘I know where everything is’ type of organisation system?”

“What? No, I don't know where anything is, it's just to annoy Hordak. Sometimes I dump buckets of mud and dust inside just to see how furrowed his brows can get. Ha! He gets so angry.”

Glimmer just now noticed that V had patted the couch as he made his ‘make yourself at home’ statement. “Wait, I'm… sleeping on the couch?” She remarked in disbelief.

“Weeell, yeah, what did you expect?”

“A room?!”

“Ahhh... No. Heh. No.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Hey, it's not that bad, this is the best spot on Anni! You got a perfect view of the TV (which has channels from the next three galaxies). A few itchy blankets and who knows what wonders hide between the couch cushions; Just today I found Drag’s goldfish’s food... Oh shoot, I knew I forgot something.” He tapped his chin.

“I'm in Hel. I died, and now I'm in Hel.”

“HA! Not yet. But The End is coming. Soon!” V waltzed away saluting her away as he ventured off to check up on his younger brother’s fish.

“Wait! Can't I have Drag’s room? Or is his room the corridor?” She asked sarcastically.

“Sorry, Candy Floss, he ain't interchangeable. You’ll just have to deal with it.” The doors to Drag’s bedroom closed and he was out of earshot.

“...Great. Perfect. Great idea, Adora. Thanks, hun.”

-        - -

“I wish you could stay.” Entrapta sadly remarked.

Hordak took a moment to reply, he looked away and down, “... As do I, Beloved.”

It was another day, another mission and once again the universe had decided to tear them apart as it often did. It was especially bittersweet and tragic as the couple had plans for today, family picnic, so to speak. Entrapta sighed as she soldered the motherboard in front of her, their mask down and covering her face, “I was really looking forward to working on the power couplings for the hyper light telescope. I bet we can see the Lynks system from here! I heard rumours that they've managed to construct an entire artificial star! It powers their two nearest colonies!... I- I can wait for you... And we could do it together when you get back, how long can the escort be? Two?- Three days?” She tried to keep up a genuine smile.

“We estimate a week to the Summit system, and one week to return.” Hordak hid most of himself under his cape like a weighted blanket, “I know how much you love star gazing, you shouldn't have to wait for me. You should enjoy yourself without me.” He reached out for Entrapta’s hand. Entrapta let go of the soldering iron, and accepted the taloned hand of her partner. The Ex-Lord of the Horde softly massaged her hand, his thumb moving in circles.

She gently squeezed Hordak’s hand in return, “But I'd love for you to be with me. Us, together, you know?” She snuggled into Hordak’s chest, leaning her head against him. Dak held her hand and placing his other hand against Entrapta’s back, a gentle touch, “That's the life I wanted for us.” She murmured lowly, almost a purr.

“I know.” Hordak spoke solemnly.

“...It feels like we're apart every day now. I thought things would get better… and here you go again.”

“I know. But this request- it came from-“

“Adora, I know.” Entrapta lifted her mask, revealing a small smile, “That's the only thing I like about this.” That made Hordak raise one of his brows, “You, opening up to her, it's cute. She's a good girl. I'm glad you're making new friends.” She patted Hordak’s chest.

“Well, I wouldn't go that far-“

“Hordak.”

“Ah!” Hordak jumped, scared by the voice inside his head. The clone turned around to find Lee, another one of his brothers, just standing there – Menacingly. “Lee! How did you- ? Where? Why?!”

“We have a problem.”

*Italics indicate telepathy – Toffee*

“What?”

“The Queen is currently in our home.”

“Yes, she is the cargo.”

“…Why was I not informed of this?”

“Because you wouldn't have liked it.”

“We are transporting (possibly) the most powerful woman in the universe - that is going to turn heads, and paint a target on our backs. Are we not meant to be secret task force?”

“That is why we and the She-Ra are the only individuals aware of this mission. And, were you not the one who urged me to establish a more trusting relationship with the rulers of this world? Do you not think that a favour such as this would aid in improving relations between clones and natives?” Lee pondered on it, he nodded. He would have grunted if he could, unfortunately for Lee, his entire lower jaw was missing. By far his most noticeable and unique feature.

“...Sooo? Are we-? Is this-? Are we done? I'm just getting half of the conversation here, just so you know.” Entrapta poked in.

Suddenly V also appeared out of nowhere behind Hordak, “Hey we have a problem.”

“Gahhh! Where did you?! How- What?! Ugh. Yes, we know; the Queen.” Hordak face palmed.

“What? No. It's Drag’s goldfish, it's dead.”

“What? I thought you were feeding it.”

“I thought Lee was feeding it.”

“Well, I thought Moe was feeding it.”

Hordak sighed, face in his hands, “Fine, we'll figure it out on the road, just go, get out of here.”

Lee just looked at him, and turned away, “I'll be on the ship. I'm assuming all the relevant mission information is on board?” Hordak nodded. “Then I will be there, studying.” And the clone disappeared as soon as he appeared. V followed.

“He's scary good at that.” Entrapta remarked.

“Hmm.”

“I don't think he likes me.”

“They’ll come around...”

Both of them stood there for a moment, in silence. “So... you should probably get going.” Entrapta remarked sadly, not ready to let go again so quickly.

“Mmm.” Hordak looked around the lab, “Where is Imp? I wished to say goodbye to him before departing.”

“Probably hiding, lil rascal hates to see you go. He misses you you know.”

“I know…” A sadness washed over his face. 

“Look, I know you're at work, the last thing you need up there is me. But-”

“I would spend my entire life at your side! I love your voice. I adore your beautiful mind. And worship your heart for all the love you have offered me. You are not a hindrance!”

“Okay, okay, haha.” She looked down at the ground with a warm blush on her cheeks, “I know, I get it.”

“You think so little of yourself, I know how you are. And I do not appreciate it.” He landed a soft kiss on his partner's cheek. Which drew a chuckle from her.

“OK, OK, enough! You know I can't take compliments!” She exclaimed joyously as she smooshed his cheeks with her soft gloved hands.

“It is my duty as your lab partner to remind you of your worth, your beauty and your wonder, and that is just a scientific fact. Now, what- uh- what were you going to say before I rudely interrupted?”

From a large pouch on her utility belt Entrapta fished out a small Rubik’s cube-like object, which shifted in her palm and unfolded into a large two-handed holo-pad, and handed it over to Dak, “You know how I've been working on the intergalactic communications array?! So, I've been working on downsizing it and managed to incorporate it into a screened device - this holo-pad will allow us to stay in touch, even worlds apart. It’s only a prototype, of course, but it should work perfectly.”

What a loving gift. Entrapta always bestowed such wonderful presents, Perfuma proclaimed that it was her love-language. Hordak did not understand what that meant exactly, but his mind wondered, how could he further ‘communicate’ in this ‘language’? “Beloved, I- This is a most thoughtful gift, but... it is standard protocol to not take any contraband that could possibly link us to and could be traced back to Etheria in case the ship is breached... but, I suppose with the literal Queen of Etheria on board, that rule does not apply.” He smiled. Entrapta matched the smile.

“I will call you, when you're on your way, later today.” She raised on her tippy-toes and kissed her tall partner on the cheek, “Keep you company.”

“I would appreciate it.”

         Hordak and Entrapta lost themselves in each other's eyes as they often did, they wordlessly embraced in a warm hug. Their foreheads found each other, eyes closed, they allowed themselves to smile just a little.

         “I love you.”

         “I love you, more.”

         “Scientifically impossible, I love you far more.”

         “No, I love you more!” They giggled softly to each other.

-        - -

Glimmer had unpacked, to the best of her abilities, that is to say she was pecking at one of her packed lunch sandwiches and marked the couch as her territory by placing her luggage all over it. The Queen was now just sitting on the couch, slouched. This was going to be a long trip, she could tell. So she tried to distract herself by glueing herself to the TV. Unfortunately, the channel she was watching was broadcasting from an alien system with a language she did not understand. She could infer from the tone of the voice and the acting what was going on. It was some sort of telenovela, ooorr a reality TV show? No, Glimmer had no idea where the remote was. So that was it, her life for the next week. Hopefully Adora and the rest of the Princesses would take her on the way back after the conference.

         “Oh, nice, that's a good episode.”

         “What?” She turned back to see V standing behind her like a dad at a BBQ over a grill, a coffee mug in hand.

         “Sapphire Lakes. Great show. A handful of wealthy women who pretend to be friends are locked up in a small lake house for a week where they scream, lie and backstab each other for a cash prize. It's truly peak television. Tiffany's just confronting Jade about cheating with Keith.” He pointed gleefully at the screen.

         “How do you know all this? It's not even in Etherian?”

         V taped the side of his head, presumably where his ears would be, wait, did he even have ears? “Air-Vibration Translators. Convert any nearby language to clone speak.”

         “Huh.”

         “Your majesty.” Glimmer’s eyes followed the voice to the clone entering the drop ship, it was Hordak. Long black cape covering his body and draping behind him on the floor. His battle armour underneath, no longer bearing the symbol of the Horde, but rather the symbol of Dryl, purple gear with a star at its centre. Proud property of his wife. 

         “Hordak, finally. I wanted to speak with you.” Glimmer spoke up.

         “Lee here?” Dak turned to V.

         “Yeah, he’s in.” V replied, still glued to the TV screen.

         “What? I didn't see anyone enter.” Glim remarked confused.

         “Yeah, that's Lee. If he wants to, you won't see him all week.” V shrugged.

         “One can only hope.” She murmured.

         “I see you've already gotten acquainted with the crew. Uh- Make yourself at home, I suppose. We depart soon.”

         “Uh- Thanks...”

         “...”

         “...”

         “...Soooo, How- uh- how are you?...”

         “Yeah, I'm- I'm good- I'm alright... How... Are you?”

         “Good. Good...

         “... Yeah.”

         “... Alright, let's go.” He awkwardly turned around and departed to the ship's cockpit.

         V stopped on the way, “Hey, Daky, beloved brother of mine, my favourite person in the whole wide cosmos.”

         “What do you want?” Hordak sounded tired already.

         “Can I drive?”

         “No.”

         “I'm a pilot! I was a pilot back in the day! I'm good at flying. I'm a pilot... Can I-?”

         “You are not touching my ship.”

         “But you let Entrapta work on the ship!?”

         “That, dear brother, is because she's competent.”

         Glimmer huffed as she leaned against the couch cushions, “This is going to be a long week.” She returned to her slouching.

         Hordak marched up the small steps that led to the cockpit which was a narrow space; and sat one on the front seat, the pilot seat from which one would steer the ship via the steering wheel and the numerous unlabelled buttons covering the control panels on either side of the wheel, some blinking, some not. (How Hordak knew to press what, was beyond this trans-fourth-dimensional narrator.) V attempted to flick a switch, but his hand was slapped away by Dak, who didn't even take his eyes off the panel. V frowned like a toddler that was denied cookies from their mom, and he fell down onto the back seat of the cockpit, the navigator seat. The navigator would advise routes throughout space and monitor the status of the ship.

         A finger taped Glimmer on the shoulder, she turned to see Moe, now on board, “Can I take some of these?” He asked, pointing to the pillows on the couch.

         “Uh, yeah, sure.” She handed the clone the pillows, and watched him make his way to Drag. Moe climbed down from his wheelchair and gently moved his brother to lean forward, still unconscious, and placed a pillow behind his head. He wanted to lift his younger brother and place another pillow under him, but Moe, being a defect, was unable to lift his weight. So, he was surprised when Drag did lift up. He looked up surprised to see that Glimmer had lifted the comatose clone up by the underarms. Moe was pleasantly shocked for a moment, but continued and placed a pillow for Drag to sit on and one to lean against. Glimmer lowered him, and helped Moe up onto his wheelchair. And pushed his wheelchair to the couch.

         “Thanks- Bay doors.” He pointed to a big red button with a lock image on it. Glimmer pressed it, and the ship’s ramp receded in and the heavy shutter doors sealed them in, and would seal the void of space out. “Thanks.”

         “No problem.” They returned to the couch.

         “He's always sore when he wakes up.” He remarked worryingly. The gesture was cute, that little act of kindness surprised Glimmer.

         V’s voice echoed through the ship, “Non-clones and gentle-clones please take your seats as we're about to rocket ourselves into the void of space through a wall of fire surrounding the planet, so we're all probably going to die, so say your prayers to whatever deity you believe in, won't matter though because we live in a nightmare world where there truly is no god.” He announced cheerfully. A loud smack could be heard and an “Ouch.” from V.

         Hordak’s voice came through, “Ignore him.”

         “You’ll get used to that,” Moe spoke up, “That's like Dak’s catch phrase.”

         “Is your brother, the bird one, always like that?”

         “No, he's usually worse. He's on good behaviour since we have a guest over.”

         “Are we- going to experience some turbulence? No offence to your brother but anything he makes is usually held together by duct tape. Are we about to turn into a giant fireball? He loves big fiery explosions.” Glimmer asked concerned, recollecting about the Fright Zone.

         “HehHa! Yeah that sounds like Hordak, alright.” He wheeled himself over to a front corner of the ship which had a standing canvas, some small cabinets at the side supposedly housing some art supplies. There was also a small circular window at the corner framing the view of the outside. “The Annihilation has been through a lot, but you won't find a more reliable (and lucky) ship in The Holy Armada! You won't even feel the take off.”

         “How do you know?” Glimmer asked unconvinced.

         “Come take a look.” He just pointed to the window. Glimmer, confused, waltzed over to the window, her eyes widened in shock at what she saw. A blue surface, rippling and kicking up as the ship zoomed past; a river, then fields of trees, zipping by. They had already launched. Mount Dryl shrinking into the distance.

         They had launched from the side of the mountain, out of the hangar bay doors, cloaked by Entrapta’s holographic disguise field. Soon they surpassed the clouds, and pierced into the atmosphere. For a moment the window became coated in fire and flame. And then it passed, and now the Queen of Light stared out into an endless black void reaching out into infinity. Across the blackness were white speckles; stars, distant suns, sustaining worlds and civilizations all of their own, Etheria a distant speck to them all.

         Before they could leave Etheria behind there was one obstacle left; a barrier of warships guarding the planet from the upper atmosphere. An impenetrable wall of hull and fire power. The most powerful warships that side of the galaxy. After the Fall of Prime over a year ago the clones were freed from his control, left to aimlessly wander Etheria - for the first time in their lives without purpose. The clone population was stranded on Glimmer’s magical world, the Princess Alliance weren't about to just let their invaders take back their war machines and leave to who knows where, or worse, turn the weapons back against Etheria. So, at first the warships over Etheria were disabled. But over the following months, as Entrapta established communications with various systems, and rumours began to spill out. A sizeable number of them coming from the clone grapevine. The refugee clones slowly began to form pockets of community around Etheria. The Princess Alliance never stood against it, and even helped establish those pockets, BrightMoon was always involved in combating homelessness, a programme started by Glimmer’s mother, often allowing homeless citizens take shelter and live within the walls of BrightMoon castle.

         Within the clone settlements many managed to establish contact with the outside, smuggling becoming a major enterprise. Clones being the main item smuggled off world. Through Hordak various rumours reached her; Word of various larger neighbouring systems eyeing Etheria with watering mouths. Smaller less developed planets often fell prey to larger powers, Glimmer wasn't about to let that happen. And the answer was right under her nose. The clones knew how to operate the worships, of course they'd be supervised by BrightMoon knights, but to her pleasant surprise the clones dedicated themselves to their posts rather quickly and without much convincing or argument. They were desperate for a mission, for a purpose. And so, Glimmer gave them one; Protecting their new home.

Glimmer sighed, “I'm going to be honest I would’ve felt much better about this if the starships could escort us... No offence, uh…”

“Moe.”

“Moe.”

“Short for Mosquitor.”

“Oh.”

“I'm guessing the point of all of this is to stay unseen, and not to attract much unwanted attention.”

“It is. Heh, not to mention the reason why we're going to The Council of the Known Universe is to make allies, it’d be hard to do that if we just pulled up with a starship overhead. Don't want to prove the threats and fear mongering rumours correct.”

“Didn't you just reason your way out of the predicament?”

“I suppose I did.”

“Also, those aren't starships, heh, you haven't seen a Starship yet. Warships of The Holy Armada are impressive, no doubt about it. But starships are unfathomably enormous. Giant rings, large enough to surround an entire sun, draw power from it, often acting as a shipyard constructing warships for the Prime’s endless conquest. They’re pretty, in a horrifying kind of way.”

Glimmer couldn't even imagine something of that scale. Things like that often made Glimmer put things into perspective of how small and secluded Etheria was. How little she was in the vastness of the cosmos. It frightened her, but she chose not to think about it. But unbeknownst to the Queen that phobia had led her actions subconsciously. Many people are guided by fear, even kings and Queens, whether they know it or not. Glimmer, whether right or wrong, was stepping along the path of fear.

Glimmer’s eyes scoured the dark space and managed to spot a small brush of green among the canvas of black, the only spot of colour in space. “Huh.”

Moe took note of the response, “What? The Velvet Glove? Huh, looks different than when I last saw it, greener!”

“Yeah, that might have been my and my friends’ doing. My… friend, Adora, kinda,” Glimmer scratched the back of her head, “Turned the ship into a giant tree.”

“With many of our brothers still within.”

“Yeah, sorry about thaaAAHHH!” The Queen of Light embarrassingly shrieked as she noticed a third figure standing behind them silently. A man missing his lower jaw. He narrowed his blood red eyes, their wrinkles around his eyes more visible. Glimmer covered her mouth like an old Victorian maiden. “Sorry. My bad. Sorry. Hehe.” Lee seemed unamused. The old clone’s pupils lit up and he turned to Moe. Moe turned back to face him, his pupils lit up too. The two stared at each other without a single word spoken for a moment or two. Glimmer’s eyes shifted between the two. Are they buffering? What's going on?

Moe returned his gaze to the Queen, “He– ugh, welcomes you on board and wishes you a pleasant stay. And is honoured to be in the presence of royalty, especially one of whom allows us to stay on your world.”

Lee signed with his hands, clearly some sort of sign language, Glimmer managed to make out some of it, but not enough to further the conversation, “I'm sorry I don't know sign language, I- I should but I don't.” She remarked sadly.

Moe translated for his brother, “He just wants to discuss with you- uh- some matters.” He sounded a little awkward and nervous. Lee gave him an angry look for not translating fully. Moe just shrugged.

Outside across the depthless night a streak of light zipped across their view, Hordak spotted it, and moved to tail the craft. It was the decoy ship. As a mediaeval planet-locked civilization BrightMoon had no spaceships with which to cross galaxies. Which was why Adora got Entrapta to step in, and she was all too overjoyed about it. Being the genius she was, Entrapta fished out a crashed Horde ship fixed it up and customised it, now sporting the colour scheme of BrightMoon; purple, pink, and gold, even a painted mural of Glimmer on the hull. You couldn't get more overt than that, if this bait wouldn't work, Entrapta didn't know what would.

That was a lovely day, Entrapta and Hordak made a whole day of it, a date, that was what normal couples did so they thought they'd try it out too. And it was wonderful. Just them working together, bouncing ideas off of each other, problem solving, like two lobes of the same brain working in tandem. It was like a dream. Hordak would cherish this memory for years to come.

Hordak pulled up behind the decoy ship. With a single press of a button the clearance codes were transmitted from The Annihilation to the warships. Then; quiet. This moment was always horrifying. The silence. The wait. Hordak and the rest of the crew knew the codes were correct, Glimmer approved them herself, but each time Hordak’s mind briefly flashed to the thought of; What if the codes were wrong? If the warships would open fire, they would be dead in seconds - if not instantaneously vaporised by the battery lasers then they would freeze in the void of space. Seconds ticked away. They waited for the go-ahead; Hordak tense, V, behind him, completely relaxed and indifferent - the fear of death had left the old clone long ago, and then...

A green light lit up on the control panel. And the barricade of warships began to part like the Red Sea. And the tightness in Hordak’s chest disappeared and he released a sigh of relief. The two ships bypassed the armada wall and soon after separated, Glimmer watched the bait craft shrink into a dot out of the window and disappear. Soon the armada faded from visibility as well, and they were off on their voyage, no turning back now. Nothing but an endless stretch of darkness.

“Well, I guess there's no going back now.” She stepped up to the cockpit and looked on at the eternal night ahead.

V put his feet up on the pilot chair ahead, annoying Hordak, “Why so gloomy your highness. They should call you Gloomer. We’re here to have a good time! You know this is a road trip, and you know what that means!”

Dak: “No.”

Moe: “Oh Prime.”

Lee just turned around and left to his room.

V opened a compartment in the chair he was sitting on and pulled out a CD, and practically crawled over Hordak to get to the front control panel and slid the disc into a rectangular device. Glimmer believed it was called a CD player. And so music began to play from it. A country song come on not that our protagonists knew what that was exactly. The song began:

‘Life is like a road that you travel on,

When there is one day here and then the next day gone,

Sometimes you bend, sometimes you stand,

Sometimes you turn your back to the wind’

Hordak face palmed, unable to escape the sound of the song, trapped in the pilot's seat. He had clearly heard this song a thousand times before. “I can't believe this.”

‘There is a world outside every darkened door,

Where the blues will not haunt you anymore,

Where brave are free and lovers soar,

Come ride with me to the distant shore’

Glimmer bowed her head down and sighed, “This is my life now... for the next week... No going back.” She echoed the words to herself once more. She turned and waltzed back to the couch defeated.

‘We won't hesitate, to break down the garden gate,

There's not much time left today, yeah –

THE DEFECTS, FEATURING QUEEN GLIMMER OF ETHERIA, STARRING IN:

‘L I F E   I S   A   H I G H W A Y  !’

‘And I want to ride it all night long.’

End of Act One (of Three)

___

Next Time on LIAH

"I've been checking our food cabinets, some thing's eating our supplies, some thing's here with us."

Dun. Dun. DUN!

---

"Don't be mad!"

"What did you do?!"

"I said don't be mad!!!"

---

"Is that a shotgun?!?!"

---

"Fifty Romulaks?! Where are we crossing over to Terabithia?!!"

---

"Keith... I'm pregnant."

"I knew it."

To Be Continued

[cuffmeinblack]

A Date, Of Sorts

Ron Weasley x f!reader

Summary: A chance encounter, a sympathetic ear. You find Ron Weasley drinking alone, a burnt out Auror burdened with heavy expectations. Once he opens up, the night takes you elsewhere.

Tags: explicit | post-Hogwarts | sex | cunnilingus | alcohol

2.9k words

A/n: For @ellivenollivander 🖤 I love how this is the fault of the Ominis server of all places. Despite the thing that got me writing was sub!Ron, I ended up writing this absolutely shameless self indulgent smut fic.

The Leaky Cauldron, London. Neither very grand, nor particularly cosy, absolutely terrible for conducting private business, and yet witches and wizards flocked to it like moths to a flame. You supposed it was convenient for the Ministry, given how packed it currently was with smart robed administrators with pinched faces and even the odd member of the Wizengamot or two. You were here for someone in particular, and yet after a careful sweep of the crowds, he eluded you. You considered that perhaps he'd been held up at work, deciding to settle down at a dark and dingy corner of the bar to wait.

The barman looked at you expectantly as he wiped a pint glass with a dirty cloth, your lip curling in faint disgust you were too slow to hide. “Butterbeer,” you requested, wishing it was something stronger. Keeping your eyes peeled for your date, you kept yourself busy by idly fiddling with the hem of your skirt whilst taking in the ambience—if it could be called as such. The old pub was dilapidated and held up by more magic and willpower than by the crumbling oak beams, yet you did admit it held a certain charm. Your eyes drifted down from the flickering lights and caught on something warm and familiar; a burnished copper mop that glinted amber and gold and reminded you of sticky toffee… “Ron?”

He hadn't heard you—though it was certainly the boy you'd gone to school with—clearly busy nursing a glass of what looked like whiskey with too much ice. You kept your eyes down, surreptitiously glancing across the bar whilst grabbing your butterbeer with clumsy fingers and shoving a pile of knuts on the counter. The barman grumbled, ignored. 

Oh, it was Ron Weasley, alright. So many years later, he'd not changed in all the ways that mattered. A sip of beer masked a smile, sticky sweet foam coating your lips, but your blush felt far too obvious. Lucky, then, that he appeared so deep in thought, so enraptured with his own fingernails. 

No wedding ring.

Ron sighed and picked up his glass and you instinctively copied him. He threw the rest of his drink down, wincing slightly at the burn before signalling the barman—who seemed far more genial towards him than yourself—for another. Whatever had him here, had him drinking for comfort; for solace. Now that you were really looking, you noticed how downcast he appeared, the once easy smirk he wore wiped clean from his face. The slight shadows under his eyes spoke of sleepless nights; the black suit of an Auror, top button popped open, the obvious culprit.

“Ron?” You tried again, and this time he looked up, slightly dazed, clearly not expecting to be addressed despite the busy pub filled with his colleagues. His eyes were blue and red; beautiful and sombre. A spark of recognition finally passed after a few agonising moments, and he offered you a sincere smile. Your name rolled off his tongue and you nodded—yes, it's me.

“Hey.” His voice was gravelly with drink. “Now there's a face I haven't seen in a while.”

He looked you over, unabashedly, as you'd done only moments before, eyes leaving a trail of prickled skin in their wake. 

“Likewise. Working at the Ministry?” you asked cheerfully, but it was clearly the wrong thing to say. Your question prompted another gulp of whiskey. “Sorry, bad day?”

“Bad day, bad year. But how about you? What are you up to these days?” He deflected easily, suddenly giving you his rapt attention. You told him the usual story—you were a healer at St Mungo’s, caring for the sick was your calling, and so on and so forth. You might have seen a flicker of doubt in his gaze, but he only smiled and nodded, eating up every lie you had, ravenous to hear anything but his own story. He pushed his hair out of his face as if willing you to keep looking, and that's when you realised he was using his routine on you. That's also when you remembered you were waiting for a date, a thought that almost sent butterbeer dribbling down your chin.

“What are you, really? Go on, you can tell me. My lips are sealed,” he slurred. He looked at your lips as he said it, and you looked at his.

Unfortunately for him, it would take more than mere flirting from an old crush to get you to dispense with your secrets. An Unspeakable is discreet, even in the face of adversity (and gorgeous redheads).

“I promise you I am a healer, despite my clear disregard for my own health and wellbeing,” you said, gesturing to your third—or fourth—glass of beer. 

“I think the most you'll get from that is cavities.” He laughed, and it sent you back in time to those days at school before everything went so horribly wrong. 

“I'm better at mending broken bones than hearts but if you wanted to talk…”

“Is that what you think I have—a broken heart?” Ron grinned, wide and bright, and you melted despite your foolishness.

“Is it not? Sorry, I just assumed the whiskey and general demeanour—”

“Okay, alright. Glad to know you noticed me being a sulky git. Truth is, my job really takes it out of me sometimes.”

“I can imagine,” you said quietly. In fact, you knew exactly what he meant. “Is being an Auror not what you expected?”

“I’d say it's exactly what I expected. The problem is, after everything that happened everybody expected me to do this, you know?” 

You nodded, fighting the urge to look away. Ron may have looked startlingly similar to his sixteen year old self—bright eyes; crooked smile; fiery, untameable hair—but despite the years that had passed he had a weariness about him that belied his true age. Once he'd started there was no stopping him, words pouring forth as he reached desperately for catharsis. He'd wished he'd taken a different path, and looking at him now, you had to agree with that assessment. Ron Weasley didn't suit the stifling crush of the Ministry.

You reached across the bar and put your hand on his, a gesture most unexpected and yet felt right for the moment. If your date happened to turn up now, then so be it. Ron looked at where your bodies joined with the slow sort of realisation of someone unused to physical affection—or maybe it was the firewhiskey. Everything certainly was quite hazy now. There was a soft glow around the edges of your vision that enveloped you in a warm hug of intoxication. The weak alcohol told you that anything was possible—even holding Ron Weasley's hand.

Ron cleared his throat, and for an awful second you thought he was going to pull away, not pull you closer. But soon you felt his callouses brush your palm as he turned over his hand and guided you closer, the hot tang of whiskey on his breath and smoke lingering in his hair—not the kind of tobacco smoke that clogged your lungs but the unmistakable scent of fire, of magic. You wondered what he'd been doing that day, why his coat was singed and he had the slightest hint of a bruise blooming on his cheek, but then he was kissing you.

His lips parted, soft and supple, coaxing you to respond amongst your shock. You tilted your head—an invitation—and he smiled against your mouth, sliding a hand onto your knee with only thin nylon between you and his burning palm.

When you pulled apart, both breathing heavier than before, it took a while to focus your eyes on his heavy lids that suggested he wanted much more than just your kiss. Despite his drunkenness, Ron kept his hand a respectful distance from your lap, despite your growing urge for him to venture higher and relieve the throbbing ache between your legs. He licked his lips and smiled.

“Do you do that to all the girls that lend you an ear?” you asked quite breathlessly.

Ron chuckled and smiled that crooked smile that set your pulse racing, but his answer was sincere and serious. 

“I always fancied you, know. At school.” He shrugged, a hint of boyish charm and feigned innocence. “And thanks for listening. It's not often anyone thinks to ask.”

His fingers still burned a brand into your thigh; so distracting was his hand's presence that you almost forgot to reply. 

“You're welcome,” you replied weakly. To your dismay, he knew damn well the effect he was having on you. Even more horrifying were the words that spilled from your mouth next. “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?” What in Merlin's name possessed you to say that?

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

You'd asked and he'd accepted, and your fate was sealed. Though there was no promise of anything more than quiet company the expectation hung thick and heavy in the air between you. After that kiss, how could you think clearly about anything other than how they'd feel on your body? 

You walked in the chilly night, wind battering the comfortable jacket of warmth the alcohol had given you until you were startlingly sober by the time you stood on Ron’s doorstep. By then you didn't care much—apprehension had made way for giddy excitement and lustful want. Reminiscing on old times and flirtatious banter continued into the hallway, which was much more tidy and homely than you'd expected. There wasn't much time to take in the decor before your lips were fused once more. 

Pressed against the wall with a dado in your spine, you were now reminded just how tall he was, towering above you and blocking the ceiling light like an eclipse. Your neck craned to kiss him, a gentle finger tilting your chin, a leg slotted between your own. Not enough pressure to relieve much of anything, only an enticement. His hands roamed whilst tongues entwined, and you moaned softly into his mouth once he found his way underneath your top, skimming the waistband of your skirt. You'd thought he might be fumbling, a little awkward, but Ron surprised you with his gentleness, his teasing strokes. He grazed the dips of your waist, groaning low with approval as your hips rocked of their own accord. 

His hair felt like spun silk, copper strands falling over his eyes as you displaced them. Laboured breaths and moans filled the cramped hallway, your skirt hitched around your hips and his thigh pressed tight against your aching centre. You might've let him take you there and then if he'd not pulled away. You felt like you'd been slapped, so sudden the absence of his lips was that you opened your mouth in protest before realising he was taking you to the bedroom with a smirk to end all debate. His red and kiss-swollen lips and mussed hair had you practically skipping behind him, falling into his arms and onto the bed as soon as the door shut. 

“I thought we were just coming here to lament about our jobs some more,” you said with a pout. 

You were on your elbows, looking up at him, half undressed and flushed as he knelt before you with a hand on his belt buckle. He stilled, looked at you and raised his eyebrows. 

“I mean, we can do that instead if you want.” He shrugged. He shrugged. Then his fingers slipped inside your knickers with one swift motion and his face split into a shit-eating grin. He didn't need to point out how aroused you obviously were, but he did anyway—something about being ‘soaking wet’ before he plunged his fingers inside you and silenced any retort. Not that you could have thought of one, given how addled your mind was as he curled his digits almost languidly. Your back arched, head thrown back against the mattress as you looked up at him, surrounded by a dim halo of light. He'd abandoned his attempts at undressing himself, fixated on your every reaction to him. You swore his eyes were now a darker grey, a swirling tempest as he drank you in, rather than the baby blues you'd been so enamoured with. 

“Ron…,” you managed to sigh between the pumps of his hand.

“You’re gorgeous.” The words dripped in what sounded like awe, coaxing a whine from your throat. 

Your body shifted and squirmed beneath him, desperate for more and he heard your silent plea. You thought he would finally shed his pesky clothes, that damned black suit that clung to his body so delectably, but once again he surprised you by dipping his head and disappearing from view.

“Ro—oh fuck.” 

His fingers remained buried to the knuckles but now the warm, wet swipe of his tongue sent your head spinning. Deciding that the bunched fabric of your underwear was far too impeding, he swiftly pulled them down, discarding them to the floor before laying flat on the bed. He shifted to get himself comfortable as you watched, waiting, gripping the bed sheets in eager anticipation. Ron spread your legs, looking up through blond lashes and holding your gaze as he buried his mouth between your thighs. Your knuckles paled, cotton straining in your grasp as his tongue flicked lazily over your clit. Just the right amount of firm pressure, testing the waters. 

He quickened, flicked and swirled his tongue, reacting to every heightened moan until he knew exactly how you liked it. By then you were close to the blissful end, your climax only a lick away, and you moaned his name so loudly the walls should have shattered. You came hard, fingers threaded through his hair and eyes locked on his, asking him without words to please don't stop as wave after wave swept over you. You felt him smile against you as he sucked until you squirmed, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

You were staring at the ceiling again, wondering when your ears would stop ringing, when the mattress shifted and Ron’s face loomed into view.

“That good, huh?”

You licked your lips and sighed in response, only now noticing he'd finally shed his shirt as you let your eyes fall on the expanse of freckled skin. He'd filled out since those school days, with broader shoulders and muscles you swore he'd not possessed even in his prime as a Keeper. Your palms flattened against him; firm and irresistible. 

Lower they roamed until you found his belt, the buckle clicking as you made quick work of it, moving onto his trousers whilst Ron watched you, apparently fascinated. Knuckles brushed his cock straining against the fabric as you loosened every button, only taking a second to run a teasing thumb over the head before his mouth crashed into yours. Your surprised gasp was muffled, twisted into desperate whines as he kicked off the last of his clothes and planted himself between your legs all whilst your tongues danced and gasping breaths mingled. A press of his thigh spread your legs wider, his erection grinding against your overly sensitive clit. Fuck, he’s big, you thought with a pleasurable squirm of excitement in your abdomen.

“Ron, please…”

That smile again, a flash of amusement before your eyes fluttered shut as he pressed inside you. Slowly, deliberately, with moans of pleasure from both sides, his cock stretched you so satisfyingly an inch at a time. “Fuck, so good. You feel so good.” The praise rolled off his tongue and he kissed you again, sloppier this time; a brush of lips and heavy breaths, sharing each other's air. Your fingers entwined in his hair as he finally, mercifully, started rolling his hips. He held you firm with bruising fingertips against your hips, speaking of restraint you wish he didn't have, but oh, it felt glorious. He hit all the right spots, his steady pace building you up for another explosion of pleasure.

“Right there, yes, more.”

Harder, faster; you witnessed Ron let go of the last of his self restraint, pounding into you with such reckless abandon you could no longer breathe, let alone form coherent sentences. You managed to cry out a string of yeses until your orgasm enveloped you once more and your body convulsed, toes curling and back arching, but he didn't stop. Towering over you with flames framing his face, mouth agape and eyebrows peaked. “That's it, come for me…fuck, I'm so close.” He chased his release with brutal thrusts, gripping your hips so hard you felt bruises blooming, until finally he came with a shuddering moan and your name shouted for all to hear. 

Somehow, it sounded right. 

He could have rolled over and asked you to leave; there were no expectations, no pressure from either of you to stay entwined for longer than necessary, yet that's exactly what you did. Long after your breath had steadied, he held you in those strong arms, still flushed beneath the smattering of freckles. This chance encounter had reawoken a flame from former years, and you'd never been so grateful for a date not to show. If just for one night, it had been unexpectedly perfect.

“So, fancy dinner tomorrow night?” Ron's voice drifted into your ear as you felt yourself lulling, and you turned to see him grinning like an idiot; a picture of the schoolboy you once knew.

Full of surprises.

“Yeah, go on then,” you replied in an equally casual manner. You both laughed, somewhat shy and giddy. 

“Wicked.”

[tightjeansjavi]

Slow Hands | Chapter 8

“If I ever were to lose you, I’d surely lose myself”

A/N: This chapter has taken me weeks to write, but I am so happy with the final results. This is another doozy, so tread carefully. Thank you for your endless support and love. 🤍

~word count: 7.0k~

Pairing | Joel Miller x f! reader

Summary: Joel tells you what happened to him and Ellie before they returned to Jackson.

Warnings: angst, anxiety, trauma, mentions of death, child loss, grief, fluff, flirting, another almost kissing situation, lots of flashbacks, mentions of a miscarriage, mild alcohol consumption, Joel gets a little shy, hurt, comfort, protective! Joel, Joel whump, mentions of alcohol consumption, self deprecating thoughts/actions, anger, frustration, alluding to past traumas, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions, reader's nickname is beanie (coffee beans) +18, minors dni! heed the warnings please this is a very very heavy chapter.

main masterlist masterlist

Angie was a real sweetheart. A country classic that you’d want to play over and over again. Toffee butter sweet with pure southern charm. She was one of the kitchen staff ladies working in the mess hall. She loved to cook. She prepared food straight from her soul that warmed the hearts, and kept all the bellies full in Jackson. Her bubbly spirit was a decoy to mask her ceaseless grief that weighed heavy on her mangled heartstrings that were poorly sewn back together with a dull needle and thread. She recently went through a misscarriage. The brutal endless cycle of life in all its beauty and cruelty swinging like a pendulum. Angie was forever grateful when you and Joel appeared on her doorstep with Honey the fawn tucked protectively in your arms.

“She miscarried last fall. Right before the leaves started turnin.’” He whispered softly to you as he reached up and thrummed his knuckles against the chipped paint on the wooden doorframe.

Angie struggled to let go of her loss. She held onto the hand-me down infant clothes. The baby booties, swaddling cloths and the bottles. Grief causes even the strongest people to break as the world as they know it shatters around them. They try to claw and grasp what little remains of that person, whether they existed in the world yet did not matter. Angie took one look at that innocence bundled in your arms and she immediately darted off to the kitchen. She returned moments later with a swaddling cloth and baby bottle that showed the faint remnants of little hearts and flowers. The decals were peeling upwards like a bandaid, but it was a small token of kindness that this poor woman had to offer for the cost of nothing.

Joel thanked her with a gentle squeeze to her shoulder. Tender hands that could bruise, tender hands that could heal.

Angie only could nod as she quickly wiped away her dewy tears that rolled down her cheeks and dripped down the curve of her chin. Her eyes were glassy, her lower lip trembled under the soft blooming glow of the porchlight overhead. She reached one quivering hand out to gently stroke the soft fur on Honey’s head.

A moment of silence followed by the swishing sound of the front door slamming shut.

Oh, Angie. You deserved so much better than the cards you were dealt.

The walk back to Joel’s home was one in deafening silence. He kicked a stray rock along the ground with the toe of his boot as his arms hung at his slides. He appeared to be deep in thought as you tried to meet his gaze. He was as hard as a stone with furrowed brows. Grief was so prominent, even in a town that was built around ‘peace.’ Grief was there in every corner. Every crack and crevice down to a grain of rice. Even in a garden of Eden, grief sprouted from the stems.

“She likes you.” He murmured gently as he pushed open his front door with a soft huff through his chapped lips. “Honey.” He added.

“I hope she survives the night.” Was the first thought that popped up into your mind as you met his thoughtful gaze.

“She will. She’s n’good hands with you’n me.” He reassured you as his hand came to gently rest along your lower back as he nudged you tenderly inside as the front door softly swung shut behind you.

Honey had curiously peeked her head up from the safety of your flannel to observe her new surroundings as you slowly walked towards the well loved couch in the living area. Your knees cracked noticeably as you sank down onto the cushion.

“Y’want anythin’ to eat or drink while I warm some milk up for our little one?” Joel asked you as he padded towards the kitchen. Seconds later you heard the soft squeak of the refrigerator door opening as you sunk further into the plush cushions.

“Oh, that’s alright. Thank you for asking.”

“Not a problem, darlin.’” He hummed soothingly under his breath as he turned the burner on the stove. Once the milk was adequately warm, but not too hot, he poured it into the baby bottle. It was hard for a wave of nostalgia to not pass through him as he slowly blinked.

“S’matter baby girl? Y’want your baba? S’okay, daddy’s gonna get it for ya.” a considerably younger Joel spoke to baby Sarah in her crib. On the nights she couldn’t sleep, he’d fix her a warm bottle of milk and rock her to sleep on the old rocking chair that he and Tommy built with their bare hands. He’d sing lullabies in her ear and kiss her little head of soft curls.

Fuck.

He stared down at the baby bottle that was nearly engulfed by the sheer mass of his hand as his thumb slowly brushed across one of the peeling faded floral decals.

Fuck.

Keep it together, Joel.

Be still, my foolish heart. Be still.

Please.

God, please.

I’m good.

I’m fine.

Really, I’m okay.

God, she was so tiny.

Used to nearly fit in the palm of my hand.

Remember when she would cry and cry and cry?

Only person that could calm her down was you.

“Joel?” Your voice sounded so far from his reach as if he was across the ocean desperately trying to hone in the almost sweet music of your voice. Not here, not now. Please. He couldn’t shake the feeling of crisp trepidation as he slowly sunk down to his knees in the middle of the kitchen floor.

Breathe.

Breathe.

In and out.

Through your nose, out through your mouth.

Y’can do it.

She was so tiny. So pure. She was my babygirl.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to wail and throw his fists up towards the heavens but instead he sat in stoic silence as his ears rang like a mocking symphony that had him cowering from the harsh reality that he was presently facing.

“Joel?..” There you were again, but closer. Much closer as you went to investigate. The sight that laid before you took your breath away in a morbid fashion. Joel Miller on his knees looking like a man that had the weight of the world constantly pushing down on his aching shoulders. He was vulnerable in this state. He looked ten times smaller with his chin tightly tucked into his collarbone as if he was trying to appear as small as physically possible.

Your heart split in two to see him in this state as you slowly sank down to your knees in front of him. Grief was indescribable. It gnawed at a person with jagged teeth and sharp claws. A constant reminder that what you once held in your grasp, was no longer attainable. It was ripped from the roots, dry and brittle as precious life is stolen so swiftly.

His lips moved as he struggled to speak. To say anything, but nothing. No words could be formed as he stared down at the bottle in his hand. The slightest flinch from your unsuspecting touch upon his cheekbones as the palms of your hands gently caressed his face. “You okay?..” You asked in a hushed tone, keeping the octave of your voice level and gentle.

“No.” He murmured in defeat as his freehand slowly traveled up the length of your arm before resting along your cheek with the utmost delicate care.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You wanted to give him that choice. The open space to speak his feelings only if he chose to.

“Dunno. I jus’ needed to sit down.” He confirmed with a soft wheeze as he squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

“That’s okay, Joel. Sitting is good. It’s alright to rest. I’m right here.” You were, and you weren’t going anywhere.

“She was jus’ so tiny. Tiniest lil bean. With the cutest toes. A button nose. Used to have to give her a bottle at night when she couldn’t sleep. Would sit with her in the rockin’ chair for hours, singin’ her lullabies.” He croaked out as his chin slowly lifted as his dull faded eyes met yours.

You knew he was speaking of Sarah, and you also recognized his silent desperation for comfort. The baby bottle clutched in his trembling hand was the root cause for his current episode. Loss was so difficult to rationally explain sometimes. It was something that couldn’t be journalized as being the same for every person, because every single human being reacted in a different way. Loss was universal, and inevitable, but dealing with the grief that followed was structurally diverse in its nature.

“She was one lucky baby, getting to have you as her father. She loves you so much, Joel. She’s right here.” You slowly dropped one of your hands down from his face and gently rested it against the left side of his chest, right where his heart lay. “She’s always going to be right here.”

“Jus’ miss her so much. S’been creepin’ up on me lately. Feel like I’m seein’ her everywhere.” He felt discouraged as he slowly shook his head with a heavy sigh. “Thank you for being here with me. You don’t understand how much that means to me. To have..someone jus’ understand me.”

“I know how much you miss her, Joel. It’s better to let yourself feel everything instead of bottling it all up. I know how much it means to you. I’ll always be here to listen, for as long as you’ll have me.”

Hope to have you till the end of my days.

“Should–should probably give this to Honey before it gets too cold..” He trailed off as his thumb gently brushed across your cheekbone.

“Do you want to give it to her?..I bet she’d love it if you did. After all, you are the one who saved her.” You offered purely to encourage him only if he desired to.

“I’d love that. Help me up? Knees are feelin’ a little stiff.”

“Mine too.” You murmured as you slowly stood up and offered him your hand.

A ghost of a smile crossed over his features as he grasped your hand in his and pulled himself up from the floor.

He followed you into the living room where Honey was curled up in a fluffy little ball on the end of the couch. Her head perked up when she could smell the milk in the bottle as she struggled to stand on wobbly legs. Joel was right there to aid her as he gently scooped her up under his arm. Her fluffy little white tail wagged excitedly as she let out soft little bleating noises that sounded more like squeaks if anything.

“S’alright, baby. Got your bottle right here f’ya. Daddy’s got it for ya.” He softly cooed to the tiny creature.

You swore you saw a silent tear trail down his weathered cheek when Honey began to nurse from the baby bottle all the while he was gently petting down her tawny colored ears, and humming under his breath soothingly.

When Honey had consumed every last drop from the bottle she curled up right against Joel’s chest. She felt safe in the presence of you and Joel, which was quite obvious from the way she made herself right at home. Joel was careful to not disturb the sleeping creature as he reached his arm over and set the now empty bottle onto the nearby coffee table. The two of you fell into a comfortable relaxed silence, until the rumbling of Joel’s stomach interrupted it. The last meal he had was around breakfast time, and there wasn’t much substance to it. A cup of coffee, slightly rubbery scrambled eggs, and toast with butter. His appetite had been long forgotten since he and Tommy had stumbled upon the gruesome scene of the deceased doe while on patrol. Time seemingly had gone by in a whirlwind, and judging by the late evening light, it was far past dinnertime.

He shifted uncomfortably when his stomach rumbled again. This time it caught your attention from where you were sitting on the opposite end of the couch. You were currently reading one of Joel’s many coffee table books. Exploring Space, Dinosaur facts, The American Mustang, Woodworking for Dummies. You had chosen The American Mustang, and as soon as you heard his stomach grumble for the 5th time, you gently closed the book with your finger holding the page down before you looked over at him.

“Did you eat today, Joel?”

“Jus’ a bite of breakfast this mornin.’ Coffee, toast, and slightly rubbery eggs. Had the pan on a bit too high.” He softly responded as he lifted his chin slightly in your direction.

“I didn’t have much to eat today either. I could make us something?”

“Darlin,’ you ain’t gotta do that. You’re my guest after all. It wouldn’t be right if I just let ya cook f’me.” He was already attempting to gently lift Honey from her curled up position on his chest when you reached your hand out and gently grasped his forearm.

“Joel, it’s okay. I really don’t mind at all. We both should eat something.” You gave his forearm a reassuring squeeze before you pushed yourself up from the couch.

His eyes slowly followed your movements into the kitchen as he let out a deep sigh. “Y’know, it’s times like these where I wish that takeout still existed. What I wouldn’t do for a pizza right now.” He mumbled as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“Dominos, or Papa Johns? You better answer wisely, Miller.” You peeked your head around the corner with a playful smile playing on your lips.

“S’that even a question? Papa Johns. I’d order extra of those goddamn garlic sauces because the amount they gave you was truly never enough. I wish they would have started selling it in tubs or somethin.’” He stifled a chuckle. “Dominos was a last minute resort that I regretted every goddamn time.”

“That garlic dipping sauce was to die for. There was also that really good family owned pizza place on Main Street. Napoli Per Tutti I think is what it was called? They had the best Neapolitan pizza that I ever had the pleasure of trying.” You chatted casually as you opened his fridge.

“Darlin,’ you’re killin’ me over here with all this pizza talk. I actually never tried that place before. Sarah mentioned it a few times, but we Millers like to stick to our roots.” He chimed in as he managed to very carefully, and very gently, move Honey off of his chest and onto the couch where he then proceeded to cocoon her in a blanket that was draped across the armrest of the couch.

“I don’t know the first thing about making a Neapolitan pizza, but I can certainly try? That’s assuming that you have all the basic ingredients of course.” You could hear the wooden floorboards creak under the weight of his feet as you slowly turned around with your arms across your chest. “Just couldn’t stay away, huh?”

He sheepishly grinned and rubbed the back of his neck with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “Can’t stay away when there’s pizza involved, darlin.’”

“Fair enough. All we’ll need for the dough is flour, yeast, water, salt, and I think olive oil?”

“Well, we definitely have flour..water and salt. Olive oil maybe, but does it expire? I haven’t done much cookin’ around here lately so I really don’t know what I've got in the cupboards.” He stepped around you with his arm just barely grazing yours as he opened up one of the many cupboards in the kitchen. “I’ll be damned. Guess we do have yeast and olive oil jus’ layin’ around here.” He reached for the packet of yeast and the bottle of olive oil before setting them down on the counter.

There was something oddly comforting for the two of you to be putzing around the kitchen like an old married couple. You fit right into Joel’s domestic budding life without even grasping the idea of it just yet. You worked together at making the dough, but once it came down to the kneading part, you let Joel take over. Maybe it was your cheeky plan all along to see his hands at work, or perhaps it was totally innocent. Regardless, it was hard to not let your wandering eyes drift across his exposed skin where he had rolled up the sleeves of his flannel revealing strong, veiny forearms. Some areas of his skin were littered in scars, and indentations from years of survival, but his hands were the main part of the show. Strong, weathered, yet gentle as he didn’t want to knead the dough too much. The tendons in his fingers flexed as his eyes drifted upwards towards you.

Gotcha.

“Like what ya see?” He rasped with a teasing grin.

Fuck, were you really staring that long?

You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks as a nervous laugh bubbled up your throat. You struggled to find your words. “Joel, i’m so sorry I shouldn’t–”

“Hey, Beanie? S’alright. You can stare for as long, and as much as you’d like.” He reassured you with a slight nod of his head.

So, this is where you flirt back.

OH!

Right.

“You just..have really attractive hands.” You murmured softly.

Joel cocked a brow at your answer as he looked over at you. “My..hands? What about ‘em are attractive?” He held the same genuine curiosity like the time you had complimented his eyes.

“Well they’re just..strong looking? Maybe that’s not the right verbiage that I'm going for here.” You trailed off.

“S’you don’t mind that they’re a lil rough lookin'?’ Take this hand for example, I’m pretty sure it never really properly healed after I beat the livin’ daylights outta a FEDRA soldier shortly after Tess and I agreed to take Ellie to the fireflies. Sometimes I’ll get like these ghost pains n’my knuckles is what I like to call ‘em.” He shrugged as he grabbed a towel to wipe the flour off from his hands.

“No, I don’t mind at all. I’d honestly be surprised if your hands weren’t at least a little bit damaged. Y’know? I get what you mean with the ghost pains. I get them too, but usually in my wrists and ankles. It’s almost like a tingling sensation.”

Joel felt his heart slowly sink to the pit of his stomach like the sun gradually dipping behind the horizon. It was easy for him to draw the conclusion as to why you’d feel these sensations in your wrists and ankles. There were visible scar indentations along the inside of your wrists. Based on the scarred tissue, it was probably due to them being bound together by zip ties, rope, or possibly even chains. He felt a shiver roll down his spine when he remembered the charred women in the forest having their wrists and ankles bound together by chains.

“Well, I think your hands are beautiful too, Beanie.” He murmured.

I think you're more beautiful than the stars, sun, and moon combined.

You smiled at him. That same soft smile that sent his heart beat skipping every time he was graced by the simple beauty of it. It was as if there was a magnetic force between the two of you that was working on overdrive to bring the two of you closer in proximity.

“Thank you, Joel. I’ve got a real nasty nail biting habit that spurs up every so often. I guess..after you brought me home from the bar, I absolutely tore my nails to shreds, but I had no recollection of it happening..”

“If it makes ya feel any better, I also have a nasty habit of picking at the skin around my nails till it bleeds. Ellie’s yelled at me for it numerous times, but no matter what I do, I can’t stop.”

“Maybe we can help each other break these habits? Or, at least show encouragement when we’re struggling?” You suggested.

“Yeah, I'd like that a lot actually. It’ll be a good way to hold ourselves accountable. Lord knows I need to sometimes.” He agreed. “Well, this dough is gonna have to sit for a bit before we can roll it out..whad’ya wanna do in the meantime?” He had his hands resting along the edge of the countertop that was lightly dusted in flour as he awaited your response.

“That’s a good question. Do you happen to have any records? Maybe we could listen to one? I have a good feeling in my bones that you have impeccable music taste.” You mused with a small grin spreading across your lips.

“Y’know, I actually do have a box of records in the living room. They ain’t mine, unfortunately. They were here when I moved in. There’s a lot of classics in the collection though. I’m sure we can find somethin’ that we both enjoy.” He tilted his head towards the direction of the living room.

You let Joel lead the way as he showed you the box containing the records. There was everything from the Beatles, Prince, Queen, Zeppelin, Frank Sinatra, and so on. “Well,” You started, “whoever lived here, clearly loved their music.”

“Ain’t that right.” his tone was slightly rasped as you made yourself comfortable on the floor with your legs crossed.

“You want a pillow?” He asked softly. “Might be a lil’ more comfy.”

You gave him a small nod in response as you began to carefully flip through the record albums.

He grabbed two pillows from the nearby couch without disturbing Honey before he joined you on the floor.

“Who’s your favorite? I know it’s a tough choice t’make. I don’t even think I could narrow mine down to five.” He chuckled warmly as he rested his weight back on his hands.

“Oh, gosh. I also don’t know if I could narrow it down..Stevie is definitely at the top of my list.”

“Ah, yeah. She was incredible. I was a big fan of Linda Ronstadt back in the day. Although, growin’ up, there wasn’t a song or artist that I didn’t enjoy.”

You slowly looked over at him as your fingers gently played with a torn edge on one of the records. “Was music a big part of your life?..Before, y’know.” You chose your words carefully as you watched him take a deep inhale.

“Yeah, it was. Used to be a big dreamer, believe it or not. Always wanted t’be a singer. Taught myself how to play the guitar, wrote a few songs here and there. None of them were very good, but I got a lotta joy out of it. Then when Sarah was born, I knew I had’to hold down a real job, and push that dream to the backburner. Spent a lot of time playin’ the guitar for her though. She loved it. Used to tease me n’tell me that I had a god awful singin’ voice.” He snickered.

Your giggle was soft, sweet, floating like a warm breeze. “Hey, I’m sure your singing isn’t that bad! It's wonderful that you found a lot of joy in that hobby. What about now? Do you still play the guitar here and there? Perhaps..sing in the shower like the rest of us?”

“Wouldn’t ya like t’know?” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully in your direction. “Yeah, I’ve picked it up here n’there. Started writin’ some lyrics as well. Maybe..one day I can play for ya? Give ya your own lil’ private concert, front row.”

“Yeah, you dork. That’s why I'm asking!” You giggled. “Wow, a private concert, just for me? Well, I'd be honored.”

“Mmm.” He hummed, “don’t go gettin’ your hopes up jus’ yet, but I think I can manage.” He shot you a subtle, yet playful wink. “Now, whad’ya got there? Frank Sinatra, You Make Me Feel So Young?”

“An oldie, for the oldies.”

“I ain’t that old, darlin.’” He scoffed playfully.

“Mhm. Let’s face it, we’re a little old, but silver looks good on you.”

“Not nearly as good as it looks on you.” He countered smoothly.

“Charming.”

“Jus’ tellin’ the truth, darlin.’”

“And they say chivalry is dead.” You were looking directly into his eyes which naturally sent a blush rising to his cheeks. Yeah, he had it pretty bad.

“Y’wanna give it a listen?” He offered with a sheepish grin.

“Absolutely.”

He reached for the vinyl, fingers gently brushing yours as he gently removed it from your grasp before he stood up. He shuffled over to the nearby record player that had been neglected for years. He blew off a bit of dust buildup that had naturally settled along the surface before he placed the vinyl down carefully.

The needle slowly fell into place as the old turntable crackled to life, flooding the small expanse of the room in sweet music.

You make me feel so young

You make me feel so Spring has sprung

And every time I see you grin

I'm such a happy individual

Joel watched the way your eyes suddenly lit up, bright, glassy, beautiful. Your energy was infectious as his knuckles lightly thrummed along the hardwood. He wanted to ask you to dance, to make up for what happened at the Tipsy Bison. Why was he so apprehensive? What did he have to fear?

Connection. Intimacy. Devotion.

You seemed to recognize the inner turmoil he was presently facing almost immediately. The nervous thrumming of his knuckles, the way his brows furrowed inward as if he was deep in thought. The light unmistakable pursing of his lips.

“Hey, Joel?”

He blinked once before his eyes hesitantly met yours, “Yeah, darlin?’”

“You wanna dance with me?..It can be like a redo for our first date?” Your thoughtful suggestion was as comforting as a warm summer breeze as his fingers absentmindedly inched closer towards yours.

“Y’wanna make up for that night?..Beanie, we don’t gotta–I mean..only if you want to?” He was nearly stumbling over his words by the time you had gently grabbed his hand and interlaced your fingers through his.

“C’mon,” You replied with a small smile tugging on the corner of your lips. “Dance with me, Joel.”

His hesitation was evident, at first, but your gentle smile, and kind eyes eased his nerves as you both slowly stood to your feet. You could feel how clammy his palm felt around your own as his other hand slowly dropped to his side. He wanted to hold your waist, but after everything that happened, he was apprehensive.

“It’s okay, Joel.” You reassured him as your free hand dipped down to his side and delicately wrapped your hand around his wrist before coaxing his hand to rest around your waist.

“I’m a shit dancer, honey.” He murmured low and soft as his fingers slightly flexed against your waist.

“Joel, don’t overthink it. Just dance.” You encouraged him with a reassuring smile.

When his nerves slowly began to dissipate, he fell into a rhythm as he spun you around playfully. He was less worried about accidentally stepping on your toes, and more focused on the way the soft glow of the kitchen lighting bounced off your skin. How pretty you looked. How your eyes never seemed to leave his. The increased thrum of his heart drowned out the soothing crackle from the tabletop. All he could see was you.

It was as if a magnet was slowly pulling you in closer. The gravitational pull, foreheads touching, noses brushing, exchange of breaths. So close. So close. You could nearly taste him on your tongue–

“Beanie..” He breathed out. Pausing. Thinking. Just ask her. The worst she can say is no.

“Can I–”

“Please. Please kiss me, Joel.” Your thoughts were swirling, tumbling like a shaken up jar of marbles. You wanted him so bad. Terribly. You wanted and yearned to know what it possibly felt like to be kissed by Joel Miller. The moment was there in your grasps, and gone in a flash from the distinct creaking sound of the front door opening.

Ellie’s footsteps were soft along the floorboard as she pulled the door shut behind her. She was hoping that Joel wasn’t home. She wasn’t ready to confront him after what took place at the Tipsy Bison just a few nights prior. She was still hurting. Her curiosity got the best of her in the end when she saw that the kitchen light was on.

“Joel?..” She rounded the corner, eyes going wide, cheeks turning a deep bright red as she caught the moment you and Joel nearly kissed. She squeaked a fast apology, “Shit, I’m so sorry!” before darting out of the room like a bat out of hell.

You and Joel were startled by her presence to say the least. His eyes went wide before he was dropping his hand from your waist. He murmured an apology of his own before he slipped out of the kitchen to follow his kid.

“Ellie, wait! Kiddo, can we please–” He was hot on her heels as she scurried up the stairs and b-lined to her bedroom. If he was there a second sooner, he would have stopped her from slamming the door in his face.

“Kiddo, please. I jus’ wanna talk.” He sounded gravely defeated as his forehead came to rest upon the chipping paint on her bedroom door. He could hear her muttering to herself as she stuffed her backpack with overnight clothes.

Moments later the door flung open as she brushed past him with her bag slung over her shoulder.

“Ellie.” He tried one more time.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Joel. Sorry for interrupting your date.” She muttered before jogging down the staircase.

“Kiddo, please. I’m sorry.”

“I’m going to Dina’s.” Was her short response. He could detect the hurt in her voice as he pathetically watched her disappear through the front door once more. The entire house was silent as he scrubbed a weathered hand across his patchy beard. Healing took time, he reminded himself. It didn’t happen overnight, but fuck. He missed his baby girl so much.

The old floorboards of the staircase groaned under his heavy footsteps as he trudged back down the stairs. His brain was telling him that it was time to call it a night. Send you home so you didn’t have to witness his pain at the forefront. His heart told him differently. His heart urged him to seek out your comfort, so he did.

He found you right in the kitchen where he left you. You had just taken the freshly made pizza dough out of the fridge and set it out on the counter. Your eyes slowly flitted upwards at the sound of his footsteps.

“Hey, I think the dough is ready to be rolled out. Want to give me a hand?”

Bless you.

“Yeah, of course. I’m sorry for runnin’ off like that. She’s been avoidin’ me since that night at the Tipsy Bison.” He admitted in a hushed tone.

“It’s okay, Joel. You don’t have to apologize for that. Did you..want to talk about it?”

“No, not right now. Let's just..make these pizzas. I’m starving.” He sighed, feeling his own mental and emotional exhaustion begin to way down on him like a bag of cement.

He met you on the other side of the counter, shoulders brushing as he pulled out a rolling pin from one of the drawers. You rolled out half the dough in silence together. It was almost as if you were sharing the weight of his present grief, soaking it in and absorbing it like a sponge.

Once the pizzas were dressed and popped in the oven, he wiped down the counter before grabbing a glass from one of the overhead cabinets. “I uh–really could use a drink. Would you like one? I’ve got wine and some spirits.”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having, Joel.”

“Whiskey it is then.” He murmured as he grabbed another glass. “I really don’t usually drink. I jus–’ need somethin’ right now.” He didn’t know why he felt like he needed to explain himself to you, but it was too late to take his words back when they were already spoken.

“Joel, you don’t have to give me a reason as to why you need a drink right now. We all have our vices, and I hold no judgment towards yours.”

“I know I don’t have to explain myself to you, Beanie. I’m jus–’ I'm not okay right now. I don’t know whether I should laugh, cry, punch a fucking wall in.” He muttered bitterly as closed the cabinet door a bit too harshly. He shuffled past you to the wet bar area where he snatched up the bottle of whiskey with trembling fingers. He popped the cap off with his teeth as he poured a hefty splash of amber-colored liquor into his glass. He was considerate enough to give you half of what he was having.

“Joel, I know you’re not okay right now. Do you want me to?..”

“No.” He croaked softly, “No. I don’t want you to leave, please.” He took a sizable sip from his glass before he returned to your side, sliding your glass over.

“Okay, I won’t go, but is there anything you..need from me?” Your hand slowly grasped the crystal glass before raising it to your lips. The warmth of the liquor coated your insides like sticky molasses. It had a twinge of smoke, finished off with a hint of cinnamon. In short, it was fucking delicious.

“I don’t know.” He admitted somberly before he slowly sank down to the kitchen floor with his back resting against the oak cabinets, and the glass resting in his hand between his knees as his head fell back with a soft thud.

You descended alongside him with your legs outstretched, and ankles crossed. Sometimes all a person needed was a gentle soul. A wordless extended notion of comfort. Sometimes that was enough, but sometimes a person needed more. Whatever Joel needed in those crucial moments, you’d be there.

“Can I be honest with you?” He broke through the growing silence with a heavy huff through his lips.

“Of course.”

“I am fucking terrified of losing every goddamn person that I love, Beanie. I’m terrified of losing my brother. I’m terrified of losing my daughter, and I'm terrified..of losing you. I feel like a broken record that can’t quite find its rhythm because the vinyl is scratched, and the needle keeps catching. Do..you get what i’m sayin?’” His head slowly turned to meet your eyes.

Your heart skipped a monumental beat when he said that he was terrified of losing every person that he loved, and that you had made the cut. (not that there was one to make). You ignored the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and focused on him, and his willingness to rawly communicate with you.

“Joel, I understand why you are terrified, but you haven’t lost Tommy, Ellie, or me. We’re all right here. I don’t think you sound like a broken record at all. Try and show yourself a bit of compassion, okay?”

He stifled a bitter chuckle as he brought the rim of the glass back to his lips. He took another sip before he closed his eyes.

“Beanie, I don’t think you’d be tellin’ me to have some compassion for myself if you knew what I've done, the people I've killed, the choices I've made. I ain’t a good person. No matter how many times I have tried to justify my actions, I ain’t a saint.”

“Joel, do you think that anyone is truly a saint? Do you believe that we’re all innately good? That we’ve never hurt a friend, or said words we didn’t mean? Joel, even if the outbreak never happened, and we didn’t lose the people we loved, we still would be making mistakes. We still would be hurting people whether it was intentional or not. I mean this with full honesty, your past isn’t going to scar me. It isn’t going to make me think of you in a darker light, because goddamnit, we all had to fucking make some hard choices in the name of survival. I’ve killed people too, you know that, right? I lost count years ago. I lost my fucking faith in the shreds left in the remants of humanity until–” you felt yourself choking up with tears welling along your waterline, and your words lodged in your throat, clawing to be set free.

“Beanie–”

“No, please. Please just let me finish, okay? Joel, you’re so incredibly hard on yourself, and hell, we all are. I just want you to realize that you are not a bad person. You’re not a bad man. You’re not some evil monster lurking in the shadows. You’re a fucking human being that has spent over 20 years trying to survive. You have endured and survived up until this point. You and Ellie will be okay. She’s hurting, and so are you, but one day she will forgive you, for whatever it is that you have done. She needs time to heal, and so do you.” You felt mildly exasperated from the energy you were exerting.

Joel was speechless. He was floored as his pupils were blown out wide. His jaw physically dropped. He scrambled to gather his thoughts so that he could come up with a well-rounded response. He struggled with his words, as you knew. All he knew is that he had to be just as vulnerable as you were being.

“I killed an entire hospital of fireflies. I killed every single one of them to save her. To save my Ellie. My light. They were going to kill her, Beanie. Ellie is immune. She’s the only one. Marlene told me that the doctor that was going to perform the surgery on her thinks that the Cordyceps has grown with her since birth. Because it’s adapted to her, it tricks the normal Cordyceps into thinking that Ellie is one of them. That’s the reason why she is immune. Tess and I were taking Ellie to the fireflies because I made a promise to Marlene. It turned into something else along the way. I grew to care for Ellie as if she was my own. I even–I even told her that we didn’t have to keep going. We could come back to Tommy’s and forget all about the fireflies. My baby girl didn’t want that. She wanted to save the fuckin’ world, but she didn’t want to die. I know she didn’t want to die, Beanie. She thought that after it was all said and done, that we would be going home together.

“And when we’re done, we’ll go wherever you want, Joel.” Ellie reassured him.

“Tommy’s, sheep ranch, the moon.”

“I’ll follow you anywhere you go.”

“But there’s no halfway with this.”

“We finish what we started.”

Ellie was determined to use her immunity to save the world, and Joel couldn’t stop her.

“Ellie..is immune?” You whispered softly as the weight of Joel’s words sunk deep into your soul.

“Yes, she is. You have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone, Beanie. Not even Maria knows. Only Tommy and I. The rest of the community would turn to chaos if they knew.”

“The fireflies were looking for a cure, and Ellie was the answer? But, Cordyceps–”

“Grow inside the brain.” He deadpanned as he finished off what was left in the contents of his glass. “I did what I had to do to save her, and if I had to go back and do it all over again, I would. She didn’t want to die. She never consented to the surgery. Marlene never gave her the option, and neither did I. The worst bit? Beanie, I lied to her. I told her that there were more people like her. People who were immune. I told her there were dozens like her, and that the doctors couldn’t actually make any of it work. That they’ve stopped looking for a cure entirely.”

“They’ve stopped lookin’ for a cure.”

“Where are my clothes?” Ellie mumbled.

“Raiders attacked the hospital. I barely got ya outta there, kiddo.” he squeezed the steering wheel tightly as he lied through his teeth.

“Were people hurt?..”

“Yes.” He didn’t lie.

“Is Marlene okay?”

Joel paused as he glanced back at his daughter through the rearview mirror.

“I’m takin’ us home.”

“You never told her the truth, did you?” You knew the answer, but you wanted him to confirm it.

“No, I did tell her, and she hates me for lying and taking that choice away from her. She feels like..she holds no purpose in life now, and it’s all my fault.”

“Joel, you did what every parent would have done for their child. Biological or not, she is your daughter. She was in danger, and you saved her. I can’t blame her for the way she currently feels towards you. Her emotions are valid, and you should have never lied to her. You should have told her the truth from the start, but I understand why you didn’t tell her. You felt ashamed of your actions.”

“I just wanted to protect her.” He murmured as his eyes casted downwards.

You reached your hand out and gently grasped his shoulder and gave it a firm, grounding squeeze.

“Joel, you did just that. You protected her. You saved her. You saved the world.”

His own eyes began to water. His lower lip trembled, wobbled with uncertainty as his glassy irises met yours.

“You’re right. I did save the world.”

And then, you were hugging.

His tears and your own fell freely as you cradled his head protectively against your chest with your chin resting gently against the top of his head. Your fingers threaded through his soft salt and pepper tendrils as he enveloped your frame in his strong arms. The oven dinged signaling that the pizza was ready, but neither of you moved an inch.

“Spend the night with me, Beanie. Please.” His words fell heavy on his tongue. His heart begging you with a steady thrum to stay.

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[thecoochiefairy]

𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖔𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖊𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖞

━━ 𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑒𝑠 .ᐟ toji.

warnings 𑄽𑄺 12k word count. boxer toji, third person omniscient pov, black woman, vaginal penetration, angry sex, rough, lil bit of sweet talkin’, hair pulling, daddy kink, squirting, creaming, oral [f] [m], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, a lil degrading?, fingering, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, aggressive toji, lil bit of sweet toji, physical violence, talks of body image issues, minors aren’t welcome!

song to play while listening; 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒 ; 𝑙𝑖𝑙 𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑛𝑒

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ if you didn’t see it already, there is a trigger warning for talks of body/self image issues! i’m a girlie that deals with a lot of that, so this was a bit heartfelt for me. this is dedicated to any of my girls/gay’s/they’s that feel down about themselves! you’re all perfect 🫶🏽love your body + your body will love you back! enjoy!

OF COURSE SHE FUCKING WOULD. 

Blood drips down his chin, eyes shooting over at the mirror as his scar is now reopened, ripping between his bottom and top lip. His anger seeped through his face in a way it’d never shown before, staring back at the woman he’d kill for. They had their ups and downs—this definitely had to be their worst fight. 

Their now five year relationship blossomed in an uncanny place—The gym, an environment where people didn’t expect to be approached or distracted from their routine. He didn’t mean to bother her, he just couldn’t help it.

She stood at the Smith’s machine, blowing out a breath as she gripped the bar that looked to hold a weight of forty-five on each side. He watched her. Her skin is a warm toffee complexion, scrunchie holding her onyx curls, tendrils falling around her face that’s painted with thousands of freckles. Full dark eyebrows furrow lowly, baby pink lips sinking under her bone straight teeth. Her brown eyes stare out of focus, long lashes curling atop of her pupils. She was mesmerizing. 

She was more curvy than the women he usually went for. Even from under the sweater she wore, her full breast, large hips and pudgy stomach, her ass— god, he couldn’t get enough of her, and he didn’t even know this woman’s name. She seems frustrated. She twists her body under the bar as she squats, taking a deep breath as she goes to lift it up, her arms trembling. It causes her to quickly drop the bar back in place, a roll coming to her eyes.

“It’s better to train muscles when they’re at failure,” Is the first thing he says to her. 

Her eyes follow up to him. She nearly trips over the bench beneath the machine as she takes in this man. He stands in front of her, long sleeve black compression shirt pulled at his elbows that showcase a couple of tattoos on his muscular arms. His dark hair falls along his eyebrows as it seems he’d been sweating. Scarily handsome features, strong jaw, deep eyes with a confident aura she wasn’t used to. This man was fine, holy fuck, she thought. 

“Excuse me?” She stutters.

“I’m tryna’ be a boxer, so I have to sustain muscle in order to stay in my weight class. Fatigue means muscle activation. So… say you’re doing a set of ten squats, by the fourth or fifth squat you’re tired as fuck,” he talks, her eyes only blinking in response, “Any squat after that is typically the ones that are increasing your muscles.”

Her eyebrows only raise. He then chuckles as he places his hand behind his neck, “My fault, I just…needed a reason to come talk to you.”

“To me?” She questions, her lashes falling over her cheeks.

“You, doll,” He chuckles, her eyes falling to the silver ball along his tongue as his mouth slightly opens. She wants to gulp. 

“What’s your name?” He then asks.

She crosses her arms over her chest as she asks, “Why you’ wanna know? You tryna’ get in my pants or something?”

That makes him laugh. He shakes his head as he speaks, “Five minutes of talking to you and your ass is already being stubborn. That's cool, I like that.”

“It’s Sonali,” she then replies, “Pronounced Sah—nah—lee, not So—nah—lee, I hate when people say my name wrong.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. I wanna say your name a thousand times.”

“Damn. You don’t hold back, do you?” She tilts her head. 

“I want you,” he states flatly. 

“You’ manifesting that or something?”

“It’s a fuckin’ promise.”

And it was. She never had a man so affectionate, thoughtful—good as fuck in bed— it was the first time she’d experienced an authentic love. She could admit, the first two years were rough. Mostly from her own overthinking. Anytime they were out in public and the eyes of other women fell upon him, she gripped herself tighter around his arm. She didn’t want to be the jealous type, but as these girls continued to throw themselves at him, it was like she didn’t exist. Was she not good enough? Pretty enough? Skinny enough? 

She eyed every single person in the gym. Everyone's body was different, but the ones that got the most attention were the standard preference of beauty nowadays. Slim, able to go into a store and fit a piece of clothing in the first try. No problems in the world. Call her dramatic, call her apathetic of even the “perfect” people’s issues. Maybe if she was perfect, she’d have less problems than her own. 

There were so many times Toji caught her staring at herself in the mirror, noticing she would turn away from it when she undressed. As many times as he’d purposely fucked her in front of it, nothing changed. But he knew that it wasn’t his call to make her confident within herself. He just wished she knew how perfect she was. 

He could feel himself straying away from Sonali, a particular type of anger building within her body that only increased the closer he tried to get to her. Anytime a woman tried to talk to him, she was mad. When he suggested that she wear more clothes that didn’t dishevel her figure, she was even more mad. He didn’t understand what he was doing wrong, only wanting her to feel as beautiful as she was. Nothing worked. Yet through all of it, he was always so patient with her, never becoming angry or ever raising his voice to her. Sonali’s own self destruction almost caused them to break up—and then, her father had passed away.

Sonali’s life had fallen apart. It was just as tough for Toji, coming to learn that her father owned a boxing gym in the city, sparring and bonding with a man that seemed perfect in health. He watched his girlfriend spar aggressively with her father, giggling like a little girl as she did so. It made him smile to see that he was the one person that could rid all that attitude. When he died, nobody knew he was sick. Not even Sonali— his death was a shock to their entire family. But with Toji there for her, all of her pain seemed easier to manage. He loved her no matter how angry she was. In general, or at him. The more she pushed away, the more he pulled forward. She cried in his arms for nights at a time, wishing she hadn’t lost her father. Wishing she could be the confident woman he raised her to be. Wishing everything wasn’t so damn difficult. 

That anger never subsided, grief turning to rage very quickly. It all mushed into one emotion when a random stranger verbally attacked her, calling her a racial slur and spitting at her. That was her final straw. She lunged forward as she attacked this woman, ripping the frail blonde hair from her scalp, punching her with a strength of almost two men. When Toji pulled her away, the cops captured her next, dragging her out in a chaotic scene. 

Once again, there Toji was. Right behind her in court, nervously listening in as the judge explained her assault charges. The woman now had a busted artery in her face, paired with a ruptured eardrum that caused her to go completely deaf on her left side. The charges were thankfully dropped due to witnesses explaining she was only in defense of herself due to discrimination, plus her record being completely clean. That situation proved to Sonali that she wanted to change for the better. Mentally, physically, emotionally, even if that meant some self reflecting she wasn’t ready to face.

“I think you’re perfect the way you are, baby. But if you wanna change, we can work towards that, too,” Toji’s deep voice comes in her ears that same night, cleaning the blood from beneath her fingers, staring in her face as frustrated tears drop from her eyes. 

“We can start by finding a place to put all of that anger. Imma’ put you in the ring with me, I’d never need a mouth guard again,” He teases, causing her to softly giggle as he continues, “You got a mean ass left hook. You learned that from your father.”

“Yeah. Taught me a few things, although most of my skills came from petty street fights” she mutters. 

“I get that, you need technique. I was damn near enamored with all the Rocky films. Even had a punching bag in my bedroom,” he chuckles.

“You need technique. I can show you,” she suggests.

“Me?”

“You’re quick, but you lack the repetition of catching your opponent off guard. That’s how you win. Relax them into thinking they have that negative space to hit you, then swing where they least expect it,” she shrugs.

“Teach me some shit, then.”

“I will.”

In those three years, Sonali faced all the issues she felt she withheld, having a support system behind her that had truly changed her for the better. Her patience, temper, eating habits, sleeping schedule. She felt like a new her. A better her. Toji saw her progress as well, falling more in love every single day—he just had to ask for her hand in marriage. 

Here they were now, Sonali giving co-ownership of her father’s boxing gym to Toji, allowing him to reopen the business for other local boxers. He was easily recognized, known to never lose a match, knocking someone out in less than five minutes. She wasn’t used to seeing him have a somewhat celebrity status, but it made her happy that she could be beside him for this new time in their relationship. Just like she saw changes in him, he definitely saw changes within her.

“C’mon, Fushiguro.”

He heard his manager's voice within his ear. Shiu leaned  against the rope of the ring where Toji stood inside, across from another man as they continued to spar. This was his usual routine on a regular day, constantly upping his skills to prepare for his next match. 

“You’ distracted or something?” The man across from him asked, smiling in an almost taunting manner. 

“Yeah. I’m bored, you hit like a bitch.” 

“Show me some shit then!” The man laughed, hovering the gloves over his face, arms out in a protective position. 

‘I BE DAMNED’  by Comethazine continues to play along the speakers in the ceiling. Toji remained where he was, hands mimicking the protection stance as he stared at his opponent. He stepped back, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet with narrowed eyes. He studied his movement like a test. Just as the man was about to talk more shit, his glove quickly lashed out and smashed his opponent in the jaw as he flashed forward, knocking him to the floor. Toji harshly taps his gloves together, continuing to bounce on his feet as the man quickly stands up, ignoring the cringe that goes around the ring. 

“Y’all acting like girls,” the coach says, “Fushiguro, you gotta perfect this move you keep dodging. Lead uppercut, straight,” He commands.

“I got it,” he says lowly.

“So do it.” 

Him and the man continue to spar for a bit. From another pair of eyes, his hands smear into the atmosphere, catching every movement the man makes in front of him. He knows all of his techniques. His focus is encapsulated on the gloves in front of him, never noticing as the large bodyguard enters the gym, standing to the side with his hands in front of his abdomen. 

When he does see this, he slows down as he calls, “De’Angelo, where’s Sonali?”

“She’s not here, sir.” De’Angelo replies, no emotion to his face. 

Toji steps back from his opponent as he tilts his head, “I’m not a fucking idiot. Don’t play with me. I can see that, she’s supposed to be with you.”

“She told me to come here, sir,” he explains, “Said she wanted to be by herself.”

“I don’t pay you to fold,” he gruffly reminds, twisting his neck as he cracks the bone, “Did she tell you where she was going?”

“No, sir.” 

He becomes immensely irritated, flaring his nose as he wants to punch the shit out of his bodyguard. He didn’t necessarily need one, but with the status he was beginning to withhold and having a schedule where he couldn’t constantly be with Sonali, he hired De’Angelo for her safety. Her and him had created a friendship essentially, De’Angelo obviously being wrapped up in her sweet nature, allowing himself to be distracted by his job. Shit, he wasn’t the first. 

“Imma’ give you five minutes to find her before I step out this ring.”

The funny thing was, De’Angelo was a man that nearly stood at 6’5, bigger and scarier than most. But Toji was bigger and scarier than any man combined when he was pissed. 

By god’s grace—and to De’Angelo’s luck—Toji’s ears almost hike up like a dog when he hears her feminine voice, involuntarily sultry as she speaks. She appears within the frame of the gym’s door, leaning her head against the phone to her ear as she giggles softly, “Girl. You should’ve seen the cashier's face. Looking at me stupid cause I counted four hundred dollars in one’s. Mind your business, hoe!” 

Another issue Toji was recently beginning to face. With all the evolving Sonali had done in the years of them being together, her beauty had become tenfold. She went from a ten, to a fucking twelve. Her proportions were almost exaggerative. Full breast, sitting upright perfectly under the soft pink gym set she wore, long sleeve and clinging to her curves. Her waist was comparative to a Coke bottle, hips large as if she’d given birth. Thighs toned and supple, ass—soft, full, fat. She was a dime. As she entered the building, her dark curls bounced around her shoulders, pulled out of her face by a hello kitty shaped hair band, one she usually wore if she was doing her makeup or going to the gym. Yet, her face is rid of any cosmetics, freckles spraying along her cheeks and forehead, nose ring shining in the light. She absentmindedly sipped the matching pink cup she had, holding a numerous amount of bags in her other hand. 

Jealousy. A word that he never expected to feel within his own body anytime she was without him, the eyes of other men hungry as they watched her. He knew the kind of beauty his woman withheld, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it when they stared. He was like her guard dog, always hovering over her as she danced in la-la land, giddy and happy as he protected her from the monster that was the reality. The same cat-like eyes that were tattooed on his forearm became slender as she smiled. Her hips twisted as she came in, calling into the phone, “Imma’ call you back. See you later, bookie!” Hanging up as she turned her attention to their bodyguard.

“Hey, D. I got both of us a drink! I got you some lime Kombucha, I know you said your stomach had been hurting. This should help your digestion,” She smiles, handing the soft green drink to him. 

Toji stumbles slightly as he feels his opponent connect his glove into his shoulder, lightly trying to get his attention. As everyone else laughs around him, he glares in return, the laughs quickly dying down as the coach mutters, “Should’ve minked his ass in the face. Let's take a five,” he then states. 

“Fuck you. I’m taking a ten,” Toji replies, removing his gloves and only being left with bandages as he drops down from the ring, coming over to her as she continues to speak to De’Angelo. 

His face goes slightly warm as he takes the drink, “Try it in the car. I’ll be out there in a second, okay? I’ll show you the playlist I made for you,” she talks.

“Yes ma’am,” he ducks away from Toji’s death stare, exiting the building.

His face softens as he now looks down to her. He watches as she drops her bags, placing her cup down on the ground as wraps her arms around his neck. 

“Babydoll,” he rasps, “Where were you?”

“Hi, Daddy,” she smiles happily, “I missed you.”

He narrows his eyes down. She softly rolls her eyes as she speaks, “I just came from the gym, did a little shopping afterwards. Why you’ making a face? Are you upset?”

“‘Nali, baby,” he sighs, bringing his arms around her ass, gripping the skin within his hold, “I don’t like to have to put my foot up D'Angelo's ass everytime I can’t find you with him. Please stop sending him off.”

“Okay, sorry. I just wanted to have a little girl time, that’s all. You’ mad? Tell me you love me.”

“I love you. You know that,” he brings his face down, sucking her tongue into his mouth. He could never be mad at her for too long, even if it was warranted. Her grin widens as she says, “Good. How’s he doing?” She then brings her attention to the men in the ring, pulling Toji’s hand as she makes her way over to them.

“Distracted by you. Get out,” Shiu expresses, annoyed.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” she brings her eyes to his coach, “Why y’all beefing? What’s the problem?” 

“We’ve been trying to get him to perfect the uppercut, straight-hit. He’s being soft.” 

“What's that?” One of the newer members of the gym asks, climbing into the ring as his session is coming in the next fifteen minutes. 

“It’s when you dip down to the right, punch within the airway of your stomach, then lean towards the left and tag your opponent in the face,” Sonali explains, rubbing Toji’s arm who seems more annoyed than his manager.

“He would’ve done that shit if you were here,” the coach points out.

“Why don’t you train? You know this shit better than most of us do.” The other guy asks.

She shakes her head, “Had to get my hands registered when Toji did. Fighting is a bit traumatic for me now. Plus, I’m in school, I don’t really have the time.” 

Toji knew her real passion, wanting to be a postpartum nurse and help new mothers with their babies. She currently worked a part-time job making the milk within the hospital for their NICU department. He also knew she could easily just be as good as him in boxing if she put her mind to it. 

“Too bad. Put this motherfucker in check, his head is somewhere else when we have a fight tomorrow,” Shiu snaps.

“Wanna get in the ring with him, Shiu? Better yet, with me?” Sonali asks.

He stares silently, muttering as he speaks, “I gotta take a phone call. For your damn fight,” He looks to Toji, stepping down from the ring as she makes his way to another part of the gym. Sonali calls, “C’mon, Shiu! I was just fucking with you.”

“I don’t have time for his prissy ass today. Imma’ get the move, I’m good,” Toji finalizes to his coach.

He replies, “You better.”

Everyone steps down from the ring as they allow the other boxers to get their time in, Sonali sitting on the ground with Toji as she wraps his bandages for him. She sighs, “Shiu’s giving you shit today. Why?”

“He’s pissed at me cause I didn’t take some endorsement deal they called me for. I’m cool with the status I have now. Even that is too much,” he replies honestly.

“You don’t enjoy all the pretty girls gawking over you?” She teasingly asks.

He shakes his head, “The only pretty girl I want fangirling over me is you.”

“Awe, you’re so fake.” She lightly mushes her hand against his face, “Should’ve taken it. Would’ve put more money in our pockets.”

“Money isn’t a problem. You know that,” he reminds, “Don’t I keep you in the life of luxury?” He teases back.

“Of course. But getting calls for endorsement means that they see you have the potential to be bigger than you think. You can make a household name, Fushiguro. Don’t miss that opportunity. You have me. I have you. We’re a team,” she speaks.

He sighs, knowing that she’s right. He wasn’t too fond of being in the limelight, but if that meant more financial stability and to be able to take care of her more than he did now, he found an upside to the situation. 

He changes the subject, “What’d you spend all my money on today?”

“Um, wrong. I spent my money today, playboy. I got it like that,” she corrects him, running her fingers over his olive skin as he chuckles, “I bought the cutest Telfar purse in the store. It was ballerina pink. I had to have it, I also bought some more gym shirts for you, and some outfit choices for my friends party tonight.”

“You didn’t tell me about a party,” he frowns.

“I’m telling you now,” she blinks.

He blows out a breath, scratching the back of his neck as he asks, “What are we eating tonight?”

“Oh! Well, I bought some ingredients to cook you some vegan tacos. I also got a couple of fruits to make smoothies—“

“Why can’t we eat like regular people? I’m a grown ass man, baby. My carnivorous needs aren’t being met.”

She rolls her eyes, “Because I’m under a calorie deficit, and red meat is too heavy for my stomach. And yours,” she replies.

“Ah shit, here we go with this calorie deficit bullshit,” he groans, leaning back on the ground as he continues groaning like a toddler.

“Don’t start with me, Toji. I swear to god.”

Although he was supportive of her new lifestyle as far as her diet was concerned, it sometimes became a frustration between them when he was also forced to eat the same foods as her. He felt like he needed to eat twice after one meal, trying to maintain his correct protein count. 

“Fine, I’ll get you some chicken. It’ll keep you shaped like the Hulk.”

He leans his head up, “If only I was actually that big. I’d fly across the city and burn every vegan-calorie-deficit-item known to man.”

“You’re my biggest hater, you know that?” She raised an eyebrow.

“And your biggest fan all in one.”

She tilts her head, “I almost forgot to mention the last place I went. I stopped by the Savage-Fenty store. Got me a couple lingerie sets,” she rolls her eyes, looking at her bags as she feels Toji sit halfway up.

“But all my items seem so uninteresting to you. So I guess I’ll just take them ba—“

She’s interrupted as he grips her up, throwing her over his shoulder as he grabs all of her belongings with him. She coughs at the sudden movement, giggling as he begins making his way towards the exit.

His coach calls, “Aye! Where the hell you’ going, Fushiguro?!”

“I’m done for tonight. I’ll come back in the morning!”

“You better know how to tap a motherfucker by the time you come here tomorrow!”

“Oh, Imma’ tap something!” He calls back.

Sonali places her hand over her mouth, shockingly laughing as she shouts, “Toji!” His coach shakes his head as he watches them disappear out of the building. 

                              ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~♡

“You like it? Maybe I should’ve gotten gold. Shit, maybe pink. Ugh.”

Sonali stands indesively in the full body mirror within the bathroom, eyeing herself and pulling any critique she can. She brings her vision behind her as she watches Toji sitting in a bathtub full of ice, absentmindedly scratching his chin as he leans his arms on the sides of the bath, staring at his phone. 

“So anyways, like I was saying. Amara didn’t invite this other girl to the party because when she invited us out to her birthday dinner, she told us that it was a split the bill type of thing, right?”

“Right,” Toji mutters, never looking up from his phone.

“So I tell Amara, girl. What the hell do I look like splitting the bill with somebody? I’m paying for my meal, tipping the waiter and taking my ass home.”

“Right,” he mutters again, stretching his arm back as he scrolls his thumb across his screen.

“The girl catches an attitude and is like, ‘It’s my birthday. I wanna go to a steak restaurant, and imma’ ball out on shrimp, oxtails, lamb chops. Everyone will pay an equal five hundred and sixty—“

“And?” He cuts off, wide eyes shooting up as he hears the number, “There’s an ‘and’ after that number? ‘The fuck I look like paying five hundred American dollars for something I’m not consuming? That lobster better revive itself and boil all over again,” he exclaims.

“Moral to the story is, her and the girl aren’t cool anymore and now she’s blowing up Amara’s phone because she’d already bought her outfit for the party. Make the check out to that lamb chop, bitch,” she finalizes, turning towards him as she then asks, “But seriously, do you like it?”

He takes focus on her outfit, which…wasn't actually an outfit. She stands across from him, wearing a chrome triangle bikini top with matching bottoms, turning to the side as her entire ass was out due to it being thong styled swimwear. He catches his name that’s tattooed on her hip, coming to the conclusion that there was barely anything covering her if he could see that. 

“It’s sexy as hell,” he replies, “A little too sexy, babydoll.”

“It’s a pool party, Toji. Was I supposed to go in a large shirt?”

“Maybe,” he shrugs.

She rolls her eyes, turning back to the mirror. She sighs, “Maybe I should’ve gotten a one piece. I need to tone up a bit in my stomach, it’s getting a little soft,” she mutters, running her fingers over her abdomen. Toji looked over her body, seeing her abs coming through her upper stomach, trying to figure out what the hell she was going on about.

He turns his head towards her, dropping his phone as he asked, “You need to be fucked in front of that mirror before you go?”

Her eyes go wide as she turns, “No!” 

“ Stop talking about yourself then,” he replies, lifting his phone back up. 

She sighs, knowing that she might be being exaggerative. But every time she stares at herself, she sees the girl that would’ve worn a large T-shirt to a pool party. She wished she could get out of her own head. 

Toji steps out of the ice bath, Sonali catching a glimpse of the monster that hung between his legs, a towel quickly being thrown around his waist before she could put a microscope to him. 

“You look good,” he walks past her, slamming his palm on her ass, “The color goes well with your skin tone.”

He wanted to scream for her to take it off. To stay with him in bed, unable for other men to see the demon of a body she had. He let that thought subside. 

“Even if I wanted some dick, did you forget that I just recently got back on birth control? Today’s the last day before it actually activates,” She reminds.

“I know that. Maybe I want a baby,” he shrugs.

She rolls her eyes, “Please. You have Muffin.”

“Of course I do. Muffin!” He then calls.

The large Cane Corso speeds into the room, attacking him as the dog flops onto the bed. Toji groans happily as he wraps his arms around the animal. 

“My Muffin. You won’t put on a skimpy ass bikini and throw yourself to the wolves, will you?” He sarcastically asks, the dog panting in excitement as he rubs her belly. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? Do you not want me to go?” She comes out of the bathroom, beginning to search for her makeup bag in the closet. She doesn’t hear a response from him as he lays next to Muffin, opening the laptop beside their bed. She comes out from the closet as she says, “Hello?” Raising an eyebrow.

He really doesn’t want to have the conversation of him feeling some type of way about her outfit. He doesn’t want to show his jealousy or insecurities, although it probably would’ve been the better option to do. 

He sighs, “Nah, baby. I want you to have fun. What shoes are you wearing?”

“Nothing too crazy, probably my YSL’s,” she shrugs, “I’m more so worried about my hair and makeup. I’m not getting in that damn pool, too much chlorine and I had a wash day not too long ago!”  

“Maybe those clear heels I bought you will go better with your color scheme.”

“The stripper looking ones?”

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Mmm, okay, fashionista! And here I thought you were just in the shackles of your black long sleeves and sweatpants combo.” 

He chuckles, “I am in the shackles. But forreal, don’t have too much fun. I did tell De’Angelo to come pick you up from work tomorrow, let you get ready and then to bring you to my dressing room before my fight. You'll be there?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Daddy,” she grins, going over to him as she plops herself on his lap, laughing as he groans from the impact. 

She stares over the tattoo along his ribs as he continues to glance over the screen of the computer, his eyebrows peeking up as he then asks, “Why am I getting an email from the neighborhood saying we’ve been reported?”

Sonali pauses. She purses her lips together as she flips off of him, making a whistling noise as she says, “C’mon, Muffin. You’ ready to eat?” 

The dog immediately jumps up as she begins following behind her owner. Toji calmly calls her name, “‘’Nali.”

She lets out a deep breath as she says, “Okay, okay. Fine. Me and Muffin were out on our morning jog a couple of days ago and this guy approached me and asked for my number.”

She sees his face twist up as she then continues, “I told him no and that I was engaged, of course. He kept pressing me, asking about Muffin and why she wasn’t on a leash. I told him she was trained—“

“Why were you still talking to him?”

“…I don’t know? I was being nice.”

“‘The fuck you being nice for?”

She pauses as she hears the slight raise of his voice. Her tone goes soft as she finishes, “He asked if he could shake my hand. I told him no. When he put his hand out anyways, Muffin bit him. I immediately reported it to the office, but I was only in violation of having her off of a leash.” 

“And you’re just telling me this now?” He stands from the bed, Sonali quickly turning into the bathroom as she sees him following behind her, “Muffin should’ve bit his fucking arm off, brought it home to me so I could find his ass and beat the shit out of him with it. He could’ve done anything to you.”

“I know that, Toji. I was fine. I could’ve defended myself if needed—“

“I don’t give a fuck, Sonali,” he calls her by her full name.

He sees her face change, a soft frown coming to her lips. She’s not used to him being upset with her. It’s not that she took advantage of that, she just hated seeing him upset, so it was easier to keep things from him. He runs his fingers over his damp hair, coming towards her as he lifts her onto the bathroom counter.

“You have to tell me when stuff like that happens, baby. God forbid he tried to hurt you and I wasn’t there, I would’ve lost my fucking mind. Please just be careful when taking your daily runs, okay?”

She nods her head, “Yeah, okay. I’m sorry,” she brings her arms around his neck, pulling his forehead to hers as he replies, “I’m not mad.”

“You sure? You’re not gonna go find him and kill him?”

“Imma’ mush his fucking skull in. But I’m not mad at you,” he clarifies.

She rolls her eyes, pushing him away from her as she hops off of the counter, “Mmm, whatever. You’ jealous or something?” She taunts, making her way back out of the bathroom as she retrieves her makeup. He squeezes his fists together as he thinks, maybe, taking another breath as he heads back into the bedroom.

 

                              ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~♡

The night falls on the next day rather quickly. Buzz about the fight goes along the entire city, Sonali watching as De’Angelo pulls up to the front of the building, seeing long lines of men and women—a huge influx of women— chatting excitedly as they hand their tickets to the person within the booth, making their way into the arena. 

She takes D’s hand as he pulls her through the crowd, eyes lightly glaring over her as they jump the line and walk through, Sonali politely thanking anyone working within the building. They guide them upstairs to the second floor, leading them to a door with ‘FUSHIGURO’ aligned in all red. 

“Yeah?” Toji calls out with a slight groan as he hears a knock, his tone sounding slightly exasperated as the fighters focus was on his upcoming match.

Sonali slowly presses the door open as she softly asks, “Can I come in?”

As she slowly opens the door, Toji sits in his full gear along the dressing room sofa. Black mouth piece, compression leggings beneath the black shorts he wears, his name titled along the hem of his bottoms. His tattoos seem to stand out more as he wears darker attire.  Harsh eyes focus in as he talks to Shiu and his coach. That focus slowly dissipates as he looks to the door, a look of shock crossing his face as she enters, quickly gazing over at the barely fitted dress she wears. It was onyx, white lace trimming the top and bottom of the short material. Extremely short. A soft pink bow sits in the middle at the top where her breasts are pushed up, nearly spilling from the fabric, it being thin where everyone can slightly see her brown nipples. To top it all off, it barely covers her ass, the skin jiggling with every movement she makes, clearly ill-fitting as she has to lightly pull it down with every step. She wears the clear tall heels he’d bought her, his leather jacket hung over the entire dress—although that didn’t change how fucking preposterous it was— her usual dark curls now lengthened out in loose waves, small pink bows cascading in her hair. She was fucking gorgeous. Sexy. Edible. Fuckable. Toji wanted to kill her. 

She smiles softly as she sees him while removing the leather jacket, throwing it to the side of the sofa as she presses her knees against the cushions, wrapping her arms around Toji’s neck as she slightly bends down to do so. From across the mirror, Toji catches her pink hello-kitty panties as she bends down, Shiu and De’Angelo also sees this. Everyone can’t help but stare.

“Hi, Shiu. How are you?” She asks. God, this girl was so bad with awareness.

“Uh…I’m good,” he adjusts his suit, the sight of the dress quickly arousing the man without trying to do so. 

Toji’s gaze remained fixated on her as he said nothing. His emotions went from annoyance, to arousal, to complete rage as he now caught the sight of the other two men.

“You need me to glue your eyes back into your head? Or better yet, rip them out of your eye sockets all in one? Get the fuck out,” he spits to both of them. 

Both Shiu and De’Angelo practically run out, Sonali frowning softly as she asks, “What’s wrong?”

He runs his hand over his face as he stands from the sofa, throwing his mouthguard onto the mirror dresser. He had a lot—repeat—a lot of patience with Sonali. Her naivety to dangerous situations, the way she dressed, the way she smiled in the attention of any man without realizing what she was doing. But this had to be his icing on the cake. 

He drops his hand from his face as he finally speaks, “What in the actual fucking hell—are you wearing, Sonali?”

She blinks. Standing from the sofa as she comes behind him, laughing uncomfortably as she sarcastically mutters, “A dress? What else would it b—“

“Do you see me laughing? Do I look like a fucking joke to you?”

Her mouth clasps closed as he comes inches away from her face, hovering over her smaller frame. She ducks back a bit as she puts together that he’s entirely serious. Shit.

“You bought this for me, Toji.”

He smacks his lips, actually finding something funny in that. “Nah. I didn’t buy that, I just paid for it. I would’ve never let you have a dress like that had I seen you try it on, don’t be fucking stupid.”

Stupid?

“Stupid?” She looks around, “Who the fuck are you talking to?” She comes even closer to his face, ducking down as she squints, “Wanna rewind? Clearly you’ve lost your mind.”

“Damn right I’ve lost my mind. I’m talking to my fiance who decided to come to my fight wearing half of her fucking outfit!” He exclaims, “This is my first time seeing you today. God fuckin’ knows where else else you’ve been in this stupid ass dress!” 

“I was at work!” She fired back, “Which you should know, you keep De’Angelo chained to me like he’s my fucking babysitter!” 

“I wouldn’t have to hire a babysitter if you weren’t such a goddamn child, Sonali. Just no fuckin’ awareness to any situation! First it was you not making a big deal out of the fact that some motherfucker in the neighborhood damn near attempted to assault you, now this! Things happen to women too fucking fast. I can’t protect you if I’m not around, or I don’t know what happened! That’s why you have De’Angelo. But none of this even matters if you wanna make shit harder by walking around dressed like a fuckin’ slut!” 

She jerked back at his words. Her eyes went slightly wide, immediately feeling as they filled with hot, angry tears. She hadn’t felt this type of rage in so long. The only other time she’d felt like this, her fist was plummeted within a woman’s face. She felt disrespected, hurt by his words. 

“You know how long it took me to even be able to wear a t-shirt without sleeves? Anything that showed my stomach? Any part of my body, really. This was my fear. To be judged. But I didn’t think it would be by the person who got me out of my shell in the first place,” she spoke with a depth, wanting him to hear every word, tears dropping mindlessly down her face. 

His anger softened for a moment as he heard her words. Realizing the things he said, he knew he couldn’t take them back. His biggest fear was hurting this woman in a way he couldn’t repair, and hitting her in her biggest insecurities definitely was a way to do that. He watches as she presses her hands over her face, masking her tears as she holds in her cries, finally releasing as she trembles out a soft sob. She quickly turns away from him, beelining for the door.

“Fuck,” he muttered, “Babydoll. I’m—“

It all happened so fast. When he reached for her wrist, she turned towards him, rapidly swinging her right fist forward as it plunged into the middle of his stomach, Toji unable to block her hit as her left fist painfully knocked into his jaw. He stumbled back as he caught himself against the mirror. His eyes immediately went down to her left fist, seeing the blood along her knuckles, finger bare of her ring. Even as pissed as he was, he still knew everything about her. Of course she removed her ring to prove just how lethal her left hand was. 

He stared at her, the anger from earlier washing over his entire body. He wasn’t just angry now. He was pissed. He spat against the floor, watching as a pool of blood dropped from his mouth, looking over to the mirror to see she’d punched directly on a previous scar. She knew it was wrong to become violent with him— she figured she just wanted to do something to hurt him as well. 

“That’s how you do that move,” she sneered, placing her ring back on her finger. 

The door then opens as Shiu enters, seeing the scene in front of him. Sonali’s fists grip under her fingers, hands still shaking as she only focused on Toji who stared evilly back at her. 

“We’re up, Fushiguro—“

Shiu grunts as Sonali bumps his shoulder, flying past him. His eyes go back to Toji as he says, “Should I ask what happened?”

Toji says nothing. In silence, he turns back towards the mirror as he looks for his mouth guard, only saying, “Bring me my gloves.” 

She felt like she was gonna have an anxiety attack, leaning against the wall outside of the dressing room as she held her chest, feeling all of her emotions that she buried down returning. They had their disagreements, but this had to be one of the worst. The way he spoke to her, her reaction to his words. She felt regretful. She wanted to apologize, she hoped that he was apologetic as well. 

She clears her eyes of tears as she can hear the rumble of chaos coming from downstairs, hearing as they call his name through the speakers in the arena. Pulling herself together as she turned the corner where De’Angelo stood, gripping his hand as she pulled him forward, “Let’s go.”

Anytime she came to his show, she had a front row seat directly across from the ring. This time she wished she was in the nosebleeds. She sits next to De’Angelo who stares everywhere but her, noticing how her eyes stay along her legs, adjusting herself uncomfortably in her dress. 

“Mr. Fushiguro told me to give you this, he knew you would be cold,” He says, handing her the leather jacket she previously wore earlier. 

“He said that?” She asks.

“…Yes ma’am,” he replies softly, watching as she slowly takes the jacket from him. 

He helps her put the jacket over her shoulders, her eyes coming upward as everyone around her cheers. An uproar goes along the building as Toji appears in the ring. She sees that his scar is healing faster than she expected, a small hint of relief coming from her at that. Usually he would wink at her before any match she came to, this time, she assumed he would keep his head in the opposite direction. But no. He turns, looking directly at her as he winks. She frowns.

“May I say something, Sonali?” 

She’s taken out of her thoughts as she turns to De’Angelo. She sighs, “Are you about to ‘dad’ me right now?”

“You need it. I’m old enough to be your father. God rest his soul,” he speaks, Sonali crossing her arms over her chest, feeling a ball forming in her throat. 

“Both of you were wrong for the way you handled that situation. But he should’ve expressed that in a different way. My daughter would’ve been hung on a flagpole by this goddamn dress. But you’re grown, I can’t tell you what you shouldn’t wear. The ultimate issue is you also shouldn’t have hit him, even if you know he can take a punch. You just need to apologize to each other. And quickly, when y’all are fighting it fucks up my chakras.”

Sonali turns her eyes to him, unable to help but softly laugh. She sighs, “I don’t like you sometimes.”

“I’m your babysitter, remember? You’re not supposed to.”

As she brings her eyes back to the ring, she sees they’d already begun. It was always a nervous time for her to watch him fight. But she also knew that he was fast, and his strength was terrifying. He patiently awaits for his opponent to make the first move, the opponent ducking down, Toji quickly moving out of the way as he sends a devastating hook to the man’s face, flying him backwards against the ring. The crowd goes wild, the referee having to step in as Toji continues swinging his gloves along the man’s face, probably knocking all of his thoughts out of his head. He’s agile, knowing immediately which part of the man’s body he wants to connect with next, giving him no room to defend himself. She could feel his anger pooling off of his body, fists throwing various strikes, the opponent panting as he gets in a few hits himself, Toji immediately blocking them. 

It was one second as she watched his opponent give him a good hit to the face, Sonali cringing as she shut her eyes, leaning her elbows on her legs as she muttered, “Fuck. C’mon, baby.”

Regardless of how they felt about one another right now, she was here. He had her support. He doesn’t show any sign of fatigue, even after that good strike against his chin. Her eyes scatter along their moving bodies, Sonali never expecting as Toji dips down with his right fist, punching the man within the airway of his stomach, coming back up as he strikes him within the left side of his jaw, his body dropping down to the ring floor. Chaos goes along the audience. Sonali’s unable to hold the relieved smile that comes along her face, De’Angelo clapped as she cheered at the succession of him achieving that movement. His team patted his muscular arms and shoulders, pulling him back down to give him time to breath. A countdown went along the room as his opponent still hadn't gotten up. When Sonali thought this would all be over, the opponent struggles as he stands, either crazy or just plain stupid as he’s ready for another round.

She frowns as they call for a thirty-minute break, the opponent complaining about how Toji commited a “foul,” claiming he’d kicked him a couple of times. Sonali rolls her eyes, leaning back against her seat as both opponents leave the ring, scurrying back to their dressing rooms. 

“Mr. Fushiguro requests that you come back to his dressing room.”

Her eyebrows furrow, “Right now? I’m sure Shiu doesn’t want me distracting him.”

“I’m just telling you what Shiu told me. Don’t get me in trouble again,” he reminds, Sonali chuckling as she replies, “I’m going.”

Making her way back upstairs, she feels herself become nervous. She wants to find the correct words to have this conversation with him, hoping that he’s in the same headspace as she is. 

“You’re not coming in?” She asks De’Angelo who stands on the opposite side of the door.

“No ma’am,” he starts firmly.

She raises an eyebrow at that, muttering, “Uh, okay.”

She pushes the door open as she makes her way inside, preparing herself for the amount of adrenaline she’s sure he carries from the fight. She expects to see Shiu and his coach in there speaking to him, seeing as he stands across from the mirror by himself, carefully unwrapping the bandages on his fingers. 

She blows out a breath, “Toji—“

“Come here.”

Once she enters the dressing room, she can immediately hear his heavy breathing. He says this as he doesn’t turn to look at her—His tone was clear for her to listen. 

She slowly comes forward, standing a couple of inches  away from him as she says, “I want us to talk—“

“On your knees,” he calmly interrupts, eyes still not upon hers as he finishes unraveling the last bit of his bandages. Her heart thuds in her chest as she hears this, seeing as he now turns his face towards her. He was completely serious. 

“Now?” She asks.

“Now.”

She still stands in confusion. He becomes impatient, gripping her firmly by her hair, pulling her down as her knees come to the floor. Her eyes only watch him, becoming almost doe like, body becoming infinitely aroused as she awaited for his next command.

“You want my dick in your mouth, don’t you?”

Her mouth waters at the thought. She doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, but she nods her head nonetheless.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” 

He grips her hair tighter, using his other hand as he pulls out his length from under his boxers, veiny and large as it stands across from her face. 

She nods her head, correcting herself as she says softly, “…Yes, Daddy.”

“Good.”

He pulls her jaw open, forcing himself past her lips as he knocks into the back of her throat, pulling her down by her hair as her mouth makes contact with his hips. Sonali moans as she opens her mouth wider, choking out a cough which sends vibrations throughout Toji’s body. He grunts as he watches her, Sonali drooling more each time she pulls her mouth back to his tip, swirling her tongue on the inside of her cheek. She keeps her face upwards, looking straight into his as he leans his head down, eyes blown with lust. 

“You see that?” He asks, digging his fingers within the scalp of her hair, moving his hips rhythmically into her mouth, creating a wet noise with each connection. 

“This fuckin’ mouth of yours. Imma’ make a mess of your fuckin’ throat. It’s mine,” he tells her. She hums at that, feeling her jaw slightly burning, spit running down the sides of her mouth as she twists her head, falling deeper within the trap of his words. It gets to a point where she barely does any movement herself, her throat full as he slams into the back of it, eyes becoming watery as he doesn’t plan to be gentle with her.

He finally relaxes as he pulls her back, Sonali breathing heavily within her chest as she runs her tongue over her lips. Toji tilts his head, “So fuckin’ needy, aren’t you? You want more?”

She nods her head, feeling her nipples hardening at his words as he gently smacks his palm against her cheek, “Say you want more. Use your words.”

“I want more,” she says quietly.

“Louder.”

“I want more, please,” she raises her voice a bit more.

He then pulls her up by her hair again, pushing her against the mirror dresser as her back is now against it, legs spread widely as her knees fall along the black marble. She shivers at the coldness of it, feeling as Toji scoots her down towards him, pulling her panties to the side as he attaches his mouth to her clit. He immediately moaned at the taste of her. She shudders at the cold feeling of his tongue-ring, bringing her eyes down as she watches him circle his head slowly in between her legs, bringing his tongue in a dreadful up and down motion as he spreads her legs wider, holding her down by both legs as he makes out with her opening. Sonali presses her hands to the back of her knees, raising her head as she watches.

“Yeah, baby. That’s it,” she moans, “Eat my pussy just like that,” she talks, shuddering out a whine as he spanks the skin of her ass beneath them. She raises her head fully to look at him, pushing her hand through his hair to look within his eyes that don’t come up to hers.

“Baby…look at me,” she asks softly.

He grunts at her voice, never fulfilling her request. It frustrates her. Diving his tongue deeper into her, he motions his head back and forth, Sonali biting her lip to hold back her dazed smile. She continues to speak to him, “That’s so fucking good, Daddy,” she whimpers, “Fuck my pussy with your tongue. I love that.”

He became annoyed with her talking, not eating her out for the sake of her pleasure. He was simply preparing her body for the way he was about to fuck her. On the other hand, her voice was like a drug he couldn’t stop withdrawing from, feminine and soft as she whined, spreading her legs wider and dipping his tongue deeper with each word. It was like lighting a fire in hell, knowing how aroused she could make him by just speaking.

“Here, let me help you,” she says, gripping his hair as she raises his mouth from her clit, slowly placing it back down as his lips create a suctioning noise from that. Sonali grinds herself against his mouth, watching as Toji moves his tongue all around her core, going back down to her opening as he fully pushes his tongue inside, fucking her as she asked. She becomes more wet from that, gushing out each time he removes his mouth just for a second, shoving right back in. She giggles sultrily, twisting her head to the side as she watches. Her head falls against the black marble of the dresser, back arching as she whimpers, “Don’t stop. I’m gonna squirt all over your fucking mouth, baby. Just the way you like it. Just the way you want me to, okay? I promise.” 

His entire body inflames at her words, standing up fully as he keeps a hold of her panties with his other hand, dropping his tip along her clit as it smushes arousingly against it. He mutters, “Hold your legs up,” Sonali doing so as he takes a hold of her ankles. She leans her head back against the dresser again, grunting slightly as he’s already pushing his tip inside her, taking that hand as he lifts her head, “Nah. You’re gonna watch me go inside you. Take every fuckin’ inch of this dick.” 

Her legs tremble as he fills her, her mouth going agape as she watches all of him being swallowed by her opening. An intense pinch is within her abdomen as she closes her eyes, whimpering deeply in her throat. Her body feels complete, regardless of how big he actually was, no matter how long he ate her out for—she couldn’t handle him.

“Oh my godd…” she quivers, moaning loudly as she tightens around him, Toji spanking her as he demands, “Open my pussy. I’m gonna ruin you. You’ll love every second of it.”

She’s unable to reply, her voice lost as he slowly pulls back, somehow going deeper when he pushes all the way in. An influx of curses leave her mouth, Toji’s hand moving from her hair to her lips, shoving his fingers into her mouth as he grits out, “Watch your mouth.”

He pulls her by the bite of her teeth, the back of her thighs dirtily clapping with his hips, Toji taking the hand that’s still around her ankle as he brings his thumb to her clit, rubbing in circles to relax her. Sonali closes her eyes, in a high state of mind almost, vision rolling to the back of her head as she moans dumbly, intelligence thrown out the window with each thrust. 

“This fuckin’ dress,” he growls, pulling it up her hips as it now almost looked to be a shirt. His actions are a mix of lust and frustration. Nonetheless, he’s unable to hold back his desires and feelings as he grabs a hold of her hips, shoving her down to meet his body. He watched every reaction she gave. He was clearly still pissed off, but the way she looked up to him with her eyes, her mouth sucking his fingers deeper into her throat as she moaned, whined and writhed beneath him, it didn’t help in the slightest. He wanted to tear the entire dress apart. He brings his hand back down, spanking her ass again, this time leaving a bruise. 

“You think I want every man in this building to see my woman? I think you like it when I’m mad. Shit turns you on,” he grunts, Sonali jumping as he continuously spanks her. 

“I…Toji…” she softly cries, wanting to reach her hand to his. He takes her hand, roughly placing it back behind her knee as he says, “Hold your legs. Shut the fuck up.”

Her mouth closes as she whimpers, lightly grazing her teeth against his fingers as he shoves them within her throat. All she can do is watch. She tries to hold herself together, wanting to adjust her body as she’s trapped in a position where she feels every…single…thrust. Her eyes tear away from his, more curses releasing from her lips as he immediately smacks her cheek at that, moving her face away from his hand as she whines, “Fuckk, baby.” 

“You love it, I know,” he becomes irritated, “Daddy’s always gonna fuck you like this. You’re wet as fuck,” he continues, her thighs smacking into his skin, she hiccups as she nods, “I love being fucked like this. Don’t stop, don’t stop. Don’t stoppp,” she can’t stop whining, becoming more wet with her own words. Toji can’t help but moan in response, slowly slipping from the mask of anger he wears. 

The mirror knocks into the wall, Toji bringing his hand back into her hair as he pulls her head backwards, forcing her to look at herself. 

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty, babydoll. Look at yourself,” he talks, Sonali’s eyes closing as she speaks, “Stop it.”

“Believe me. You’re pretty as fuck, baby. Never seen a woman more beautiful. Even in this stupid ass dress,” he grunts.

Sonali can feel herself becoming emotional at his words, a mix of pleasure also collecting in her eyes as tears begin to form. She moans, voice shaky as she replies, “You don’t mean that…” 

“I mean every word, ‘Nali. Never loved a woman more than I love your pretty ass. Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he tilts her head more, Sonali lifting her eyes to show her attentiveness. She can see from the mirror as he holds her other leg by the ankle, nearly lifting her hips off of the marble as he drops them down onto his length, Sonali whining loudly as he continues to speak, “Look at my wife. My fuckin’ wife.” 

She cries softly at his words, closing her eyes as she pulls them away from the mirror. He keeps going, “So fuckin’ sorry, babydoll…”

She ignores him, moaning softly as he removes himself from her and brings his lips down to her clit, sucking and swirling his tongue against the throbbing in between her legs. She holds his hair in her hands, body becoming immensely tired from his movements. Toji was the opposite. He was only getting started. 

She inhales as he then wraps his arms around her waist, picking her up as he then brings them over to the sofa, sitting himself back against the furniture as he sits her against his lap. 

He kisses her shoulders, gradually moving up to her throat as he drags his tongue against the skin. Her body shivers from the jewelry in his mouth, always adding an extra touch of pleasure to anything she was feeling. It was a soft touch, but it was enough to make her react. That reaction made him want to keep going. He touches her face as she looks down to him, he thinks she looks adorable, then confidently pulling her face forward as he kissed her. It was always warm, his mouth completely hot against hers. She immediately relaxed into the kiss. They stopped all of their other movements as they were only focused on kissing each other, wrapping her arms around his neck as she kissed him deeper, an assertiveness coming out from him as he pulled her down, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, allowing Sonali to catch it each time it entered past her lips.

She wasn't sure why her face became slightly warm at his sudden sweetness. Instead of telling him what she wanted, she pulled his lips to her throat as she wanted him to kiss there again, feeling as Toji chuckled at that. She felt the coldness of the piercing return, his hands sliding down to her ass as he squeezed. She gripped his neck, lightly whimpering as he placed his tongue back in her mouth, legs wanting to squeeze shut as she could feel herself becoming aroused even more.

Her body trembles almost embarrassingly. He goes from kissing her to dragging his tongue along her neck. She hides her face within his shoulder as she lightly speaks against his ear, “I want you…” she says softly.

He lets out a soft grunt of satisfaction when he hears her  words, smiling as he keeps kissing her on the neck, not being too aggressive, keeping it going at a decent pace. 

“You want me, huh?” He teases.

“Yes,” she admits, nodding her head, face completely red. Her breath hitches as he firmly grips her face, pointing her eyes to his as he speaks, “Repeat that to me.”

“I…I want you,” she repeated again, flustered at his aggression.

“Say it louder. Mean it. Tell Daddy you wanna show him how much you love this dick,” he taunts her. 

“Baby, please,” she begs, “Don’t be mean,” she pouts. She went to protest again, her mind swarming as he roughly pulled her panties to the side of her ass, holding the thin material. Her mind goes numb as he slightly lifts her up with his other hand, sinking her down onto his length. Her mouth drops open, eyes falling to his as she whines, dropping her face within his shoulder again as she could hear him ask, “What was that?”

His voice sounds more gruff than usual, "Was that a complaint?"

“No…I…fuck,” she curses, unable to finish her sentence as a moan broke through her lips, her arms relaxing around his neck as he picks her up, dropping her back down on his hips. Her eyes nearly roll to the back of her head at the feeling, thighs trembling in response. She couldn’t stop gasping, biting her lip to stop the sounds. She became more aroused with each movement, hips plummeting together as she held onto him, whimpering along his ear. 

“I’m waiting for you to show me,” he spanks her, Sonali jumping in response. 

She feels her muscles weakening, body becoming sore as she places her hands along his hard stomach, lifting her hips as she slowly brings them back down, moaning softly at the pleasure she feels from doing so. He watches her with hooded eyes, leaning back along the sofa as he only keeps his hands along her back, allowing her to fuck herself. 

“F—feels so good…” she repeats, circling her hips down, moving her hair out of her face as she becomes hot. 

He was enthralled by her beauty. Her hair was messy around her face, makeup slightly messy as she continued to dig her teeth into her lip. But as his eyes traveled down, his anger began creeping back up as he stared over this damn dress, seeming this caused their entire issue in the first place.

“Let me show you.”

He suddenly places his arms under thighs, lifting her up on his lap as she’s now half-way in the air, Toji bringing her up, slamming her back down, bouncing her against his hips in a way that it caused her to shout. She nearly feels this man in her stomach. She becomes incoherent, Toji arrogantly chuckling as he talks to her with every bounce, “Fuck, baby. Look at you, you’re creaming’,” watching as her arousal appears more on his length with each raise of her hips as he continues talking to her, “This is how I want you. I wanna see you cry,” he keeps going, ignoring the squelching of her opening, Sonali sobbing mercilessly atop of him. 

“Tell me how you feel,” he asks.

“I feel so good, so good, so good,” she cries, “Ungh, babbyy.” 

“I know, babydoll,” he coos mockingly, “Keep taking my shit so well,” he’s relentless, bringing his hips up to meet the movement he causes, snapping upward to hit her deepest spots.

Sonali places her hand on his leg, leveraging as she begins meeting his rhythm, coming back down onto him as she grinds, “Yes, baby. I love your dick….So much…so fucking much,” she softly cries, barely able to get the words out, “Why are you fucking me like this…”

“‘Cause you asked for it.”

He continues moving his hips with her on top, pressing her down more and more. He slows down, keeping them stationary so that she could feel everything that he’s giving to her, allowing her to experience the moment fully. He takes his hand against her throat, now using that to tug her down, grunting as he feels himself cumming. It happened before he realized, Sonali keeping her eyes closed as a warmth filled her body, trapped in his hold as she continued to drop down on his thighs. Her body could barely take anymore, a feeling of relief almost washing over her at his release. 

“Baby, I—“

“I know.” 

He pulls out of her, twisting her around so she’s now laid on his lap with her back pressed to his chest. He rubs his hands along her body, squeezing her breast within his hand as he drags his fingers down her stomach, placing both of her legs against each side of his so they’re spread open. Her eyes face the mirror across from them, feeling her face going warm at the sight of them together. He takes his other hand as he places it on her throat, fingers by her inner thigh traveling over to her clit, beginning to rub in circles.

She places her hand along his face as he looks down to her, continuing to rub her clit as she begs, “Kiss me.”

He does. He places his mouth over hers, the both of them dirtily wrapping their tongues around one another, Sonali moaning as his fingers gently trail over her core, rubbing the area in a way that had her feening for more. She lightly raises her hips up, Toji chuckling within her mouth as he feels her become more wet.

“Look at you. My pretty babydoll,” he compliments against her lips, “I’m sorry, baby. I was mean to you, wasn’t I?”

The hand that’s gently against his face begins lightly gripping his jaw as he rubs his fingers faster, whimpering as she nods her head. She attempts to kiss him, her mouth staying agape as he spreads her opening, rubbing one finger directly along her clit. 

“I hate this fuckin’ dress,” he groans, “Hate that you look so fuckin’ sexy in it. Hate that other eyes see what’s mine.”

“‘M sorry, baby,” she whimpered against his mouth. 

“But they’ll never get to see you like this, will they?”

Her mouth drops open again as he takes his index and middle finger, sinking them inside of her, slowly pulling them out halfway as he sunk them back in. He continued this, pulling her head upwards as she was back to the mirror.

“Crying all over my dick, now crying from my fingers. But you want more,” he moans, feeling his fingers being pulled back inside of her, wanting more. Needing more. 

“Squirt on my fingers, baby. Wanna see all of you,” he begs, whimpering himself, “Please.” 

Sonali trembles at his words, gripping his neck as she cries, her entire body shuddering as she listens to him slam his fingers within her, soaking the sofa with her arousal. He sticks his tongue in her mouth, laughing arrogantly as she orgasms, writhing against him as she screams. She can’t stop screaming, sobbing out his name as her hips tremble with each thrust of his hand. 

“So fucking beautiful. I love you,” he grunts, smashing his lips to hers, “Tell me you fuckin’ love me.”

“I love you so much, Toji,” Sonali cries, her entire body shaking as she continues to orgasm. He holds her as she calms her breathing, her body still trembling as he passionately kisses her again. She’d never felt this much need and desire from him in a while, accepting his kiss as he spanked her opening, laughing within her mouth as she whined, “Stop it.”

“I’m done. I promise,” he chuckles, picking her up so she cradles within his lap. He moves her hair out of her face, gripping her chin as he sees her makeup running down her face, tears still blinking within her eyes. 

“You okay?” He softly asks, still feeling her body shuddering, “I didn’t mean to hurt you, babydoll.” 

“I’m fine, Toji. Don’t get all sensitive and worrisome,” she brushes him off, wiping her face. 

“I didn’t mean anything about the sex. I fucked you stupid, I know you like that,” he says, her face going warm as he continues, “I’m saying in general. I’m really sorry about what I said. I’d never wanna hurt you in that way. I was just…”

He takes a deep breath, “Jealous.”

She frowns, “Jealous?”

“Babydoll, we’ve been together for years. I’ve seen you grow in more ways than one. To be at your full potential and the attention you get from it…it scares me, it scares me that I won’t be enough for you. You’ll continue to grow. The dress just kinda mixed together with the other insecurities I was facing,” he admits.

She sees the vulnerability within his face, pulling her forehead to his as she speaks, “No other man is comparable to you. You’re my heart. Please know that,” she states. 

He smiles weakly at her words, kissing her cheek as she continues, “But I have some apologizing to do as well. I should’ve never put my hands on you, no matter how upset I was. And…maybe the dress was a bit much,” she mutters to herself.

“I deserved it. I was a dick. And honestly, I don’t care what you wear, baby. I know you’re gonna come home to me with that damn outfit on. I’ll buy you a thousand of these dresses, fuck you in every single one of them,” he promises, making her giggle as he tickles her with his lips along her neck. 

“Maybe I can buy them in mediums next time,” she suggests. 

“We can always do the big t-shirt idea,” he also suggests. 

She then rolls her eyes, standing from his lap as he pulls the dress down to her upper thighs, a knock coming along the door as a voice shouts, “You’re late, Fushiguro! Round two!” 

“You should go,” she reminds, placing the leather jacket over her body as she zips it up halfway, covering the rest of the dress from the bottom. She looks to Toji’s eyes as she sees an amusement in them, glaring as she says, “Don’t say anything.”

“Wasn’t gonna. Until you zipped it up. I must’ve really punished your ass, huh? You’ sore?”

“I’m leaving,” she mutters, making her way to the door. “Maybe I will buy those dresses all in a small. Just to spite you!” 

“You’ need another reminder? ‘Cause I can really wear your ass out—“

“No,” she replies, sticking her tongue out, shrieking as he steps forward to grab her. 

He then grabs for his gloves and mouthguard, winking at her as she sticks her middle finger up, making her way back downstairs to watch him fight.

“That’s what I thought.” 

[garrethweasleyfest]

Garreth Weasley Fest 2024 Masterlist

Thank you to everyone who participated in this year's fest! Below is a list of submissions by our talented artists and writers. See you again next year!

When the night is over

Prompt: Modern AU Halloween party

Pairing: Garreth Weasley x f!OC

Blindfold [art]

Prompt: Blindfold

Pairing: None

Weasley's Tutoring Services

Prompt: Potions tutoring

Pairing: Garreth Weasley x Imelda Reyes

Cat Burglar

Prompt: Garreth pov on a major holiday

Pairing: Garreth Weasley x f!reader

One bed [art]

Prompts: One bed, Halloween costume, "It'll be fine!"

Pairing: none

Daisy boy

Prompts: Florist AU and flower language

Pairing: Garreth Weasley x f!OC

Magic Over Flowers - Echoes of the Past

Prompt: Garreth's sorting experience

Pairing: none

Date at the Haunted House

Prompt: K-drama tropes

Pairing: Garreth Weasley x f!OC

Cooking Chaos [art]

Prompt: Modern AU cooking class Pairing: Garreth Weasley x f!OC

Who Else But You?

Prompt: Yule ball practice lessons Pairing: Garreth Weasley x f!OC

Sticky Toffee Pudding

Prompt: Garreth catches feelings from a FWB, Amnesia, (Garreth gets knocked out by one of his own potions exploding, gets amnesia), Future/Post Game Pairing: Garreth Weasley x Ominis Gaunt

I Told You So

Prompt: Modern College! AU Academic rivalry Pairing: none (mention of f!OC)

A Worthy Trade

Prompt: Professor Garreth Pairing: Garreth Weasley x Adelaide Oakes

Falling Hard

Prompt: Banana peel Pairing: Garreth Weasley x f!reader

Domesticity [art]

Prompt: Domesticity Pairing: none

Stay With Me

Prompt: Awkward morning after Pairing: Garreth Weasley x f!OC

Sugar and Spice

Prompt: Childhood enemies, Yule Ball, cinnamon roll Pairing: Garreth Weasley x f!reader

the process of detonation

Prompt: explosion Pairing: Garreth Weasley x f!reader

Brewing Betrayal

Prompt: Amortentia Pairing: Garreth Weasley x Ominis Gaunt

In the Eye of the Beholder

Prompt: Life drawing model Pairing: Garreth Weasley x f!OC

Multi-purpose Fizzing Whizzbeer

Prompt: Inappropriate use of Fizzing Whizzbeer Pairing: Garreth Weasley x m!OC

[alwaysxlarrie]

10 fav quotes from fics part 5 :)

happy happy mondayyyyy

“Those reindeer were fucking, Liam,” Harry says, as serious as he can be. “Fucking. F-U-C-K-I-N-G.” — @kingsofeverything

Someday, Louis would like to sit down with Harry and discuss his penchant for public nudity. — @stylinsoncity

“I’m glad you hit on me in a bar and didn’t remember who I was,” Harry says when they pull apart.

“I am being spontaneous! I just wrote down something that wasn’t planned before!” —@allwaswell16

“Lazy fucking sod of a slumlord,” Louis comments, shaking his head in disapproval at the mention of their mutually disliked landlord.  — @beyondxmeasure

Harry is almost positive Niall was put on this planet to ensure that Harry lives a well and thoroughly embarrassed life for the entirety of his existence. Because not only is Niall painfully aware of Harry’s little crush, but he had also gone out and made it his personal mission to become best mates with Harry’s little crush as soon as Harry had told him last year about the “really fit lad on the footy team” that he had seen while covering the match for one of his other articles. — @maggieisalarrie

Anytime Harry had managed to pay any mind to the football games, Louis had always been wearing a helmet. Consequentially, when first he saw the unnaturally beautiful boy before him with the toffee colored hair and sweat stained caramel skin, throwing his head back in laughter, Harry was caught so off guard he almost emptied his spit valve on the flautist sitting in front of him (which earned him a very dirty glare, but hey, he’s only human). — @lululawrence

So Louis didn’t text him back. So what? So fucking everything. — @disgruntledkittenface

Harry would never admit it, but the next time it happens, it is completely intentional. — @thebreadvansstuff

“I said I’d start a campaign, Liam. I never said it would be an honorable one.” — @fallinglikethis

[tieronecrush]

꒰ა ONLY ANGEL ໒꒱

javier peña x f!reader

chapter five: hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect

series masterlist

rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

summary: After his return to the US, Javier is trying to settle back into a normal life without the pressures of Colombia and the DEA, but he finds himself feeling isolated with no one to spend his nights with. Now a newly appointed criminology professor at Texas A&M, he is drawn to you, a post-grad student in one of his classes. You’re intelligent and witty, sweet and kind, and he can’t get you out of his mind. To cope with his growing loneliness and to rid himself of thoughts of you, he signs up for an “arrangement service” to connect him with somebody—a sugar baby—he can care for. After he is matched up with Angel, he finds himself developing feelings quicker than he ever expected, but what happens when he finds out Angel is really you?

series warnings: power imbalance (prof and student), sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, discussion of money, criminal activity, judicial systems, graduate school, smut, daddy/papí kink, praise kink, degradation, self deprecation, discussion of self worth, multiple sexual or romantic partners, sex work, cursing, use of spanish, likely more warning so read at your own risk!

word count: 6.8k

a/n: SURPRISE! got my life together and got the chapter done for y'all <333 also thank you for always validating me and loving these two as much as me <3 you are stuck beta-reading for me forever hehe @northernbluess

“Christ, Bebita, that one is as good as the last one and the one before that and the one before that. I can’t pick, you look too damn good in all of ‘em.” Javier traces his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, reaching a hand up to swipe his thumb at the corner of his open mouth and sniffling on an inhale. Expansive, strong torso and broad, steady shoulders trail down to his legs that stretch out from the small square stool in the corner of the dressing room you’ve been occupying for at least twenty minutes.

His gentle toffee eyes study your form in the earthy olive-toned cocktail dress; the silky material hugs your curves while you twist in view of the mirror, the hemline hitting mid-calf and a halter top covering your chest modestly while leaving your shoulders and back bare. There’s delicate glass beading embroidered into floral and leafy patterns along the bodice, reflecting the lights. You can imagine the way it will look in the low light, swanky library party with enough champagne passed around for all of the academics to let loose. It’s a bit of a stretch for appropriate for the department event, but with the burning of Javier’s eyes into your skin, you know that this one is doing something a bit more than the last five dresses. Sighing with resignation, you drop your hands from where they are mapping over the intricate beading. Your bottom lip releases from between your teeth and you take a step closer to Javi, chuckling softly when his hands involuntarily reach for your hips to pull you between his open legs.

“That isn’t helpful feedback, Javier. I need some concrete decisions to be made. You’re in charge of my dress unless you can’t handle it cause then I’ll—”

“Oh, no. No, no, no. This one, I choose this one,” he muffles his voice when he leans forward to press kisses against the skin of your forearms, toying with your fingers and intertwining them with his when his large hands find your smaller ones. “You’re beautiful in everythin’, Bebita, any of these dresses, or even a paper bag, and you’re fucking stunning. But I can tell you liked this one most.”

Javier lifts his head to meet your eyes, one side of his mouth ticking up in a smile — satisfied, content, proud that he knows you so well to be able to read you like that.

It’s simultaneously making your heart beat faster, your stomach drops to the floor, and your palms grow sweaty. He’s so much more to you, but you’re too cowardly to admit it to him. Javier is…everything you’ve hoped for, but has come at the worst time.

It’s a job. That’s all. He has to be, or else you’re screwed if you say ‘fuck it’ and drop all of your other clients and give Javier your heart. There’s no way that you could continue living in your apartment and attending school; you would probably have to go back to working full-time until you could break your lease and find somewhere cheaper or move home and transfer your credits.

“Y’alright there, angel? Lookin’ a little flushed.” Javier’s brows knit with concern until you brush them away, thumb lightly rubbing the fold in his skin to relax it.

“M’alright, Javi. Think it’s time to quit the try-on portion of the day.” Hands reach back to find the zipper, Javier jumps up quickly and walks you back a few inches to have the room to slip behind you and take over the task.

“Guess it’s the take-off portion? Lemme do it for you, gonna need the practice of gettin’ this off when I take you home Friday night.” Through the reflection, he catches your eye and smirks boyishly, dragging the zipper down your lower back and folding forward to press ghosting kisses to your smooth skin. “Mm, so soft, angel. Smell so sweet.”

His voice drops lower, rasp biting out on the upticks of his speaking, “D’you know what watchin’ you in all these pretty dresses has done to me?”

A sigh escapes your lips, shaking your head languidly, rolling it on your shoulders, “No…Wh-what did it do?”

Without a word, Javier unclasps the halter of your dress, dropping the material to fall to your ankles. In the midst of you stepping out of the circle of fabric, he grips your hips tightly and tugs you back to his chest. Then you feel it, when your back arches and your lower half presses backward, the bulge of his hard cock prodding into the swell of your ass.

“Javi—”

“Nuh uh, Bebita. No Javi.” His lips are at the pressure point under your ear, your eyes fluttering closed while one hand snakes back to tangle into his hair. Grinding back against him, you lick your lips and whimper when a hand of his reaches around your front and slips between your legs to brush your clit.

“Papí…Fuck, papí…Need you.”

“Manners, Bebita. Or else you’re just gonna get on your knees and take care of me. Ask nicely and I’ll help both of us.”

“Please, papí, may I please have it?”

“Have what, angel?”

“Your c—cock,” you whimper out, the tail of the word trembling out when Javier’s fingers hook under the center of your panties and tease at your dripping entrance.

“There’s my good girl. How could I say no to you bein’ so sweet for me? Think I need to get you ready before I give you my cock, though, Bebita.”

With a sigh, your mouth opens and you reach one hand to grip Javi’s forearm wrapped around you, your other arm stretching out to press your palm against the full length mirror. A dark chuckle slips out of Javi, two thick fingers pushing into your tight walls. In an immediate reaction, a whimper squeezes out of your throat in a yelp. Knuckle deep in your cunt, Javi hooks his fingers to nudge at the spongy spot, extra sensitive. The sensation buckles your knees, Javi catching you with his thigh between yours and his arm flexing tighter around you, tugging you back up while his hand moves faster. Your teeth catch your bottom lip, biting down to silence the noises threatening to expose your activity.

His lips line up against the shell of your ear, brushing lightly against your skin and sending goosebumps across your neck and shoulders, “Bet you’re dying to give me those little noises of yours, angel. How ‘bout just one ‘papí’, Bebita? Jus’ one for me, and I’ll let you come.”

The heel of Javier’s hand rubs the cotton fabric of your panties against your clit, the friction feeling delicious and sending tingles across your nerves to curl your toes. Your head shakes back and forth subtly, enough to be perceptable to the man behind you. The speed of his fingers slows to a stop, pulling out to sit shallowly inside of you without leaving completely. Metallic taste hits your tongue, part of your lip broken from how hard you’ve been biting it to keep everything inside.

“Is that a no, angel? Gonna say no to my lil request?” He questions you, a rough squeeze grips one of your ass cheeks, opening your eyes to meet Javi’s in the reflection, “Answer me.”

An audible swallow slides down your throat before you open your mouth again, bottom lip swollen with it’s split, “I don’t wanna get caught, Javi—”

The last syllable raises in pitch when he sinks his fingers into you fully, a third added effortlessly. They still inside of you, stretching you divinely, but there’s a craving, a fullness that feels like a burning need in the pit of your stomach. You see the game he’s playing, the upper hand he loves to have with you that you give away willingly. With a bend of his fingers, that same spot is getting its desired attention and sending your logic spiraling.

Fuck it. Javier can get an old sheriff buddy to bail you both out if you get arrested.

Reaching one arm behind you, your left still pressed against the mirror for support, your fingers tangle into his hair and tug his head over your shoulder more. Javier rolls a low groan from his throat, the sound ringing in your ear. You turn your head to face him, nose nudging against his while fingers continue to work you up, teetering you on the edge. Open mouths pass warm breaths back and forth, Javier chasing your lips and skin with his, desperate to feel his mouth on yours.

The tightness around his fingers drives his circulation below the waist, straining against the fabric of his slacks. Grinding against your ass as he fucks you with his hand, all he has on his mind is feeling you convulse under his touch, driven so far over that you can’t stand up.

His teeth scrape against the skin at your jaw, a smirk growing subtly on your face — it’s his telltale sign of the height of his desperation.

Leaning your head back further, your lips are much closer to his ear; when the speed of his fingers increases, your own grip his hair tighter and moan, the sound soft and airy but coated in lust.

It’s a spark in his mind, sliding his left hand resting on your right hip across your lower stomach and down your thigh, grabbing it from around the inside and lifting it up. The position change allows his fingers to reach deeper, your head pressing hard back into his chest.

“Oh, fuck yes—“ The noises you want to make die in your throat, mouth hanging open as Javi chuckles darkly against your cheek.

“Say it, baby, tell me what you’re thinking and I’ll let you come. I’ll give you what you really want. Gonna fuck you full of me, Bebita. Isn’t that what you’re aching for?” His words hold you at the edge, toes curled against the wooden floor of the fitting room while your head rolls to the side against him.

Recovering from your dry mouth, you conjure up the first thoughts that pop into your head, the image of him fucking you and the closeness of your release projecting the words from your chest, “Papí, papí — oh my god! Always know how to make me feel so, so good, Papí…God, even your fingers make me f-feel so full. M’gonna—fuck, gonna come, please.”

“Good girl, such a good girl for me. Mi zorrita buena, acaba para mí. Come for me, Bebita.”

Your wall tightens around his three thick fingers, the sound of you moaning catching in your throat as you attempt to hold back. It comes out in a higher pitch, struggling but heard by Javier whose head is still on your shoulder. He’s mumbling to you, kissing the corner of your jaw while his hand comes to a slow stop to guide you through your orgasm. When he pulls his fingers out, he brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean while you look behind at him.

A satisfied smirk takes the place of his hand when he pulls them out with a pop, reaching out for you and pulling you back against his chest with a stumble. A delicate kiss is pressed to your bare skin at your back, a shiver running down your spine while one of Javi’s hands finds the swell of your ass and squeezes.

“You want my cock now, Bebita? Bet you do. Want everyone in this fucking store to know you’re mine, right? Want them to hear those sounds that you just can’t hold back, want them to hear you calling me papí, don’t you?” Your eyes flutter shut, mouth falling open as any sort of response flees your mind. Javier stands up straight behind you, quietly fumbling with his belt, the sounds of metal piquing your attention. His button and the drag of his zipper follow shortly, the soft noises of him barely undressing stirring up your stomach.

Between your legs, you feel a rush of arousal when his sigh hits your ears, the same one he always makes when you take his cock out of his pants. Saliva coats your mouth in eager awaiting, shallow breaths attempting to fill your lungs.

Javier surveys you, licking his lips as his hand passes down your spine, gently pressing your forward until both arms catch your weight against the mirror. He traces the new arch in your back before his hand finds your panties, not bothering to take them off again, but pausing for a split second to admire the wet spot you made. His mouth hangs open slightly, bated breath heightening the temperature of the small room. The sight of your cunt dripping for him dries his mouth out, eager to have another taste, but ultimately prioritizing his needs and the higher risk of being caught the more time passes.

Lining his head up with your entrance, he thrusts in slowly, allowing you to feel every inch of him filling you. He sighs deeply while reaching for one of your shoulders for leverage, gripping it with his fingers as he starts a shallow thrust.

Meeting your eyes through the reflection, he chokes out a hushed warning, “Fuck, Bebita, m’not gonna last long. Feel too fucking good.”

You moan softly in response, the mirror fogging up with the puff of hot air that leaves your mouth. Javier turns his attention to where you’re connected, mesmerized by the sight of you taking him easily. When his eyes flick back to your face, your own are closed as you make muffled, sweet sounds of pleasure.

“Open up, angel, want you to look at yourself gettin’ fucked. Look in the mirror, Bebita, and see how pretty you look taking my cock, how much you love fucking in public for everyone to hear.” Javier words have you reaching for a grip against the flat surface of the mirror, nodding with a whine as he gives you slightly deeper thrusts. “Tell me how much you love it, Bebita.”

“Fucking lov-love when you give me your cock, Papí. Love it even more knowin’ someone can hear us, that they’re gonna know m’all yours,” you watch Javi’s face contort with attempted restraint, nodding as one hand drifts to grab at your tits, his strong hold pulling you to stand with your back flush to his chest.

The next few thrusts are audible with how hard he fucks into you, mumbles of Spanish and English spoken into your ear, “Una chica tan sucia. Eres perfecto para mí…(Such a dirty girl. You’re perfect for me…) Wanna jus’ take care of you, Bebita — my babygirl. You’re a good girl, angel. So fucking good. Te sientes bien, como un nuevo comienzo. Mi nuevo comienzo. (You feel good, like a fresh start. My fresh start.) S’like you’re my angel, Bebita. Mine.”

At the last word uttered, Javier moans into your ear, the sound clipping into a hiss as his warm spend fills you up. Your chest is heaving from the exertion of it all, skin burning with those ramblings from Javier.

He’s made it clear how he feels, short of three words.

At the thought, a sharp pain in your chest seizes your lungs, choking out a cough while Javi pulls out of you and fixes your panties. A hand pets your hair, his lips pressing into the crown of your head from behind.

“You alright, Bebita? M’sorry I didn’t last long there. All this shopping got me worked up, I guess. You feel good though? Satisfied, mi Bebita?” He accepts the answer of your nod and softened smile through the mirror, planting one more kiss on your cheek before he unravels from you and gets fully dressed again. “I’ll take the dress up front to pay while you get dressed, okay angel? Then we can go wherever else you wanna go.”

Taking in his affectionate expression, softened brown eyes and one side of his mouth quirked up in a Javi smile, you feel the same pain in your chest, the words of a confession tingling the tip of your tongue. Instead you swallow it back and match his smile, taking the two steps over to him and pulling him in for a chaste kiss.

“So shoes next then?” Javi’s nose nudges against yours before his head tilts back with a slightly defeated laugh.

“Anything you want, Bebita. Told you m’gonna take care of you.”

This time you physically bite your tongue to hold back, wrapping him up in a fleeting, squeezing hug.

“Thank you, Javi.” 

Hearing yourself back, you can’t tell if it was meant as permission to let yourself fall, those three words serving as placeholders, or if it was a last ditch effort to sever your feelings for him.

Either way, you still knew you were in trouble.

The flute in your hand is cool to the touch when you pick it up from the entry table in the old university church that was converted into an events space. The gothic details of its once lived purpose catch your attention as you look around, dark, carved wooden fixtures and slate gray stone walls. The carpet is dated, an aged beige that spans most of the room that is filled with people from across the Psychology and Sociology department; large leaded windows line the interior, framed by heavy curtains in burnt orange.

There’s a bar at either end of the room, a handful of high top cocktail tables littered around. Your eyes continue to scan, this time focusing on all of the attendees. Peers, former and current professors, administration, and donors all mingle with each other — there’s a few familiar faces that you send a smile to, continuing your exploration for the one face you’re actually looking for.

Your nerves are tingling like the bubbles popping in your glass, bringing the fragile rim up to your lips for a long sip. Relaxing your shoulders, the first drink of alcohol sitting warm in your stomach. Before you put on a brave face and step forward to go mill about, a low rasp from close behind catches your attention.

“I’ve got some pretty taste in dresses, huh Bebita?”

Javier’s voice sends goosebumps down your spine and across your shoulders; you fight a smile, the corners of your lips turning up slightly as he steps up beside you. After eyeing the glass of whiskey in his hand, your stare grazes along his body.

He’s wearing a gray suit, crisp white button down underneath his open blazer. Your smile grows when you see his olive tie, patterned with stitch-thin white pinstripes. Immediately, your eyes flick up to his face, a knowing smirk and a wink shot your way.

“Nice to see you, Professor Peña,” you say courteously, bringing your glass up to your lips for another sip.

“Having a nice night so far?” he counters, turning his body to face you, closing you off to the rest of the room and filling your view with only his frame. “Lookin’ beautiful tonight, angel. All this for chatting shit with professors.”

“I wear a lot less to chat shit with one of my professors.” You send him back a wink, smirk growing as you hold it back while he laughs and sip at your drink.

“Got me there. But we both know m’not just one of your professors, Bebita.” His fingers grip at his glass of whiskey tighter, lifting it to his mouth before he rasps out, only loud enough for you to hear. “Can’t wait to get you home, gonna rip that fucking dress off of you.”

The words send a rush of warmth down your body, clenching your thighs together where you stand. Javi’s hand grazes your side as he lifts his drink to yours, clicking them together. 

“Cheers, Bebita. Gonna be a long night not bein’ able to have my hands on you, but jus’ want you to know I won’t be thinking about anything other than you.” The heat spreads to the back of your neck, your own hand reaching out to brush your fingers against his in a fleeting touch.

“You better go mingle, angel. Go let everyone know that you’re the smartest person in the room,” he whispers to you with a lopsided grin, moving to stand at your side once again.

You shake your head and roll your eyes playfully, swatting a hand at his affection, the smile you’ve been fighting finally lighting up your eyes.

“See you later, Javi. Meet at your truck later?”

“I’ll be there for you, Bebita.”

The room’s temperature has to have risen a few degrees from all the hot air that these academic stuck-ups have been blowing all night. It’s all bullshit, what he finds himself listening to — no one has any experience in the field like he has, most of them lawyers who barely see the inside of a courtroom these days.

As he takes a sip of his second whiskey of the night, his eyes find you across the room. Standing at a table with a small group around it, your back is to him with your face cheated to the side so he can make out your profile. Drinking you in, he notices the body language you’re displaying. Leaning onto the table toward the man next to you, curling yourself in to make yourself smaller, meeker. Your eyelashes are batting, slow blinks that he pictures you doing when he’s between your legs, the image in his mind and the thought of you doing that for someone else kindling a flame of jealousy inside of him.

He studies you two having a conversation, clenching his jaw tighter with every laugh and beaming smile you give to the man.

The guy next to you is dressed similarly to Javier, a navy suit with crisp white shirt, but no tie around his neck — he’s one of those. Must be one of the rich donors based on the crispness of his suit, the starched button-up giving Javier the clue that he regularly gets them serviced at the dry cleaners. He’s clearly older than Javier, gray hair speckled with whites and a few more lines across his face than what Javier has, despite the extreme stress of the last near decade of his life.

You must be keeping him young.

His eyes stay glued to the two of you, the kindling ashes catching into hotter flames when your hand rests on the man’s bicep. This scumbag’s own hand slips around your back, trailing down to the hem that sits in the middle of your back. The twitch of his fingers moving further south propels Javier into action, excusing himself from the small circle he’s standing in to make his way over to you.

He controls his speed, wanting to rush over and clock the man in the face for touching you, for taking advantage of you being a student at the mercy of his generosity.

Instead, he clenches his fist and downs the last of his alcohol, slamming the glass onto a table that he passes by in his path to you.

Saddling up behind the two of you, he smacks on his best charming smile as he clears his throat to interrupt. The man’s hand drops from you, and yours from him, both stepping backward from each other and facing his interruption.

“Evening,” he begins, using your name as he greets you. In your eyes, he can see the widening of them, as if you’re surprised — no, as if you’ve been caught?

Caught for what?

He presses on, desperate to get you away from this creep and into some place where he can hold you. Somewhere private, alone, secluded for the two of you.

“I don’t think we’ve met before, my name’s Javier Peña. Professor in the Sociology department.” Javier reaches out his right hand to the man, his left flicking his open jacket back and resting on his hip as he pops his leg out.

The man shakes his hand as his eyebrows raise, nodding, “Mark Shepherd. It’s great to meet you, Professor Peña. Or is it still Agent?” Mark attempts a light jest, laughing until he sees Javier isn’t.

“Professor’s just fine. Turned in my badge when I retired.” A look over at you and he can see guilt all over your face.

Guilt.

Flirty body language.

Laughing at jokes that couldn’t have been funny — this man is as dry as the desert.

You’re fucking him.

“How’re liking the university so far? Enjoying the new building? Hopefully my donation was large enough to get you your own office — I was talking to Dean Banks just a few minutes ago and he brought up how you’re the Big Man on Campus…”

Javier tunes out the rest of what Mark is saying, a full blossoming of his temper boiling him from the inside. He keeps his eyes on you, your own avoiding him while you look around the room.

Why did you lie to him? This whole time he was telling you that it’s only you for him; how could you sit there and hear that and feel all the devotion he has for you — all of the care he’s given you, and not tell him the truth?

He thought it was only him. That you were his, that there was something more growing out of this. He was in so deep, he was starting to forget the circumstances that brought you two together, starting to ignore the balance changes in his account monthly.

Fuck, he was wrong about you.

Interrupting Mark, Javier turns back to him with the same friendly smile, telling him you’re his student in one of his courses, “I’m so sorry, buddy, but do you think I could steal her away for a few minutes? There’s someone I wanted her to meet that I mentioned in a lecture last week.”

Your face contorts with confusion as Mark gestures for the two of you to head off, Javier leading you from behind to weave in and out of the groups in the room all the way to an exit into the corridor. When the doors shut behind him, he takes one look at you before he storms off in the direction of the doors to the small patio attached to the building.

“Fuck me. This is not how I wanted this night to go...” you mumble to yourself, feeling your emotion catch in your throat — a similar feeling to being caught in your mess of lies and omitted information only moments ago.

You were caught out by the last person you wanted to find out that way — the one person who’s feelings you would work to protect everyday, which is why you lied in the first place.

Craving his touch, his arms wrapping you in his strong, solid embrace, you follow after him, hope beating in your chest as you formulate the best possible explanation of it all.

Outside, the winter is biting into the weather, a chill breeze blowing the tendrils of Javier’s hair up while he fishes a cigarette from the box in his inside jacket pocket. The same wind is blowing out the flame of his lighter as he attempts to light the small vice in his mouth that will allow him a moment of peace, a moment to think.

“Goddammit,” Javier curses under his breath as he struggles to click his lighter on, the cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. He sighs defeatedly, kicking his shoes against the brick when he hears the creak of the heavy door. Turning over his shoulder, he’s met with the view of you, purse hanging over one shoulder and heels clicking slowly as you approach him.

Without a word, you reach into your purse at your side, fishing out an aged silver Zippo lighter. Your arm outstretched, lifting it to pass it over to him. He takes it from you, your fingers brushing with the lick of a flame. Between his fingers, he can make out faded engravings in the shape of angel wings. His thumb runs over the design, chest constricting with pain before he flicks the lighter open and holds the flame to the end of his cigarette. A long drag relaxes that pain, attempting and failing at calming his still racing heartbeat.

“Javier, I can explain—” you start, but he lifts his hand with the ashing smoke in it, shaking his head as he blows the fumes away from you.

“You don’t have to. I fully understand that while I’ve been completely focused, devoted, loyal to you, you’ve been off with another man. And couldn’t even have the balls to tell me. Every time I asked you out, and you said you were busy, was it him?” He paces for a few strides before leaning against the brick barrier of the stone patio, eyes boring into yours.

“No. No it wasn’t. Sometimes I really was just busy, with my friends or with school. But yeah, I can’t lie now and say that there weren’t times I made up an excuse or avoided telling you a reason I couldn’t see you…” Your weight shifts on your feet, the points of your stiletto heels scraping against the slate. “There—there’s a couple others besides him.”

Javier’s eyes widen, a crackling inhale of his cigarette pulling smoke into his lungs before he speaks again, “A couple? How many other people are you seeing?”

His voice has a sharp edge to it, patience wearing thin while jealousy and embarrassment root in his stomach. Your face cringes at the harshness of him speaking, intertwining your fingers together and squeezing hard.

“I have three clients besides you. Most of them have been for a few months longer than when I started seeing you…” Your throat clears and your shoulders roll forward, shrinking your usual confidence around him. “I thought you would have…I don’t know I thought you would have known what this was like for me. It’s my job, Javi. With those other guys, it’s still just my job and when I see them, it genuinely feels like work. But—”

He cuts you off again, kicking off the wall and starting his pacing again. “But what, angel? You just told me everything I needed to know. I’m a job to you, just work. That’s fine, we can draw that line here and now. I won’t do anything more for you unless you ask, treat me like everyone else. But forgive me for thinking there was something else there with us.”

Venom in his words hits you with a punch to your gut, this side of Javier one you haven’t been privy to. He’s cold where he normally holds his warmth toward you — his eyes, his dimple, the flex of his arms when he holds you, withdrawn from his normal attachment to you, always a hand kept on you when you’re together and a tab kept on you when you’re apart, stiff where he’s normally malleable, forming to your opposite, complimenting you completely.  

This feels like the Javier you would have met a year ago in Colombia, guard up and emotions naught.

Anger blooms in his chest, feeling his insides turn a dark, dampened forest green with envy. Flicking the burnt out cigarette to the ground, he stomps it before walking away from you, cold shoulder freezing you out while he heads back inside.

You were supposed to be his. His Bebita, his angel. He doesn’t own you, no, but he wanted to feel chosen by you. And all of this, the fact that this whole time there have been other people that you see the same as him, he knows he was never the only choice.

“Javier, stop—” you plead with him while your arm grabs his bicep, his step faltering for a moment before he recovers and removes his arm from your grip. In the low light from the warm, yellow lamps at all corners of the patio, he can see the glistening veil over your eyes. The corners of your mouth are downturned, the bottom lip jutting out in that normally irresistible pout.

“Don’t. Don’t pull that shit, you knew what you were doing. I—I think you should get a different ride home tonight.”

Without another breath in your direction, his heavy footsteps carry him inside, leaving you with a chill across your skin that is no match for the iciness of his behavior. A piece of your heart breaking like a crack in a glass, delicately, finely, but one more more and it shatters completely.

He said he was going to be there for you. Yet here he is, leaving you when you want him—need him the most.

Javier strides up to the bar, ordering a double whiskey neat. Once the crystal glass is set in front of him, it’s a blink of an eye before it’s set back down completely empty. His eyes comb the room, a glimpse of you getting caught by a professor, skin burning as jealousy boils inside of him.

Is he one of your clients? Or are you only friendly with him? Was the babysitting story with Professor Quinn bullshit? Were you with him at one point too?

Was anything real with you? Maybe he was naive to assume you were feeling all the same things he was, that this was anything more than a job. The line was blurred for him from the start, infatuation snowballing into something more — he’s in love with you.

And now he knows he’s just a job to you.

Doubt worms its way into his thoughts, anger blossoming at the thought that he was vulnerable, careful, open with you. For the first time in years, he’s let his guard down, fully falling into the comfort of your affections and completely forgetting the way you two were brought together, and now he’s getting burned. All he can remember is the few times before, long before Colombia, when he had the same feeling; tightness in his chest, shallow breathing, sweating at the nape of his neck.

Pressing his palm into his chest to find any type of relief, he feels the rapid beating of his heart. His eyes glue to you, watching your interactions and feeling suddenly desperate for fresh air. Clicks of his dress shoes echo when he finds himself in the marble-tiled lobby, stretching his lungs with every breath with a furrowed brow and thoughts racing in circles.

Muscle memory leads him to his car, folding over and supporting himself with arms outstretched against the hood. Closing his eyes, he focuses on his breath, slowing himself down to deepen them. As he tries to clear his mind of all his doubtful thoughts, the image he conjures is of you, bare under the sheets the morning after that time in your apartment.

Breezy, dawn light coated the side of your face while the two of you talked in whispers, as if any louder would ruin the peace. At one thing he said, he can’t even remember now, you rolled onto your back, the sound of your laughter echoing in his ears as he saw the beaming smile of yours.

That was when it solidified in his mind, his care and affection and desire rolling into the one word that encapsulates it all — love.

The pressure of a hand on his shoulder makes him jump, smudging the image to nothing as he turns to face whoever is interrupting him.

Your eyes meet his, his brow returning to its furrowed state while his eyes round with softness. The sight of him, the emotion painted on his face, tears into your heart, but you tell yourself you have to stand your ground, to tell him all that you couldn’t when he rushed back inside.

“Javi—” your voice trails off when he interrupts you.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Javi clips at you, index finger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose when you scoff.

“Who died and made you king? You’re not the sole-decider, Javier, and after all the shit you just said to me, I think I deserve a second to speak to you,” your voice is steady despite the emotion crawling up your throat, tears burning in your waterline as you look at him in front of you, “It’s not fair for you to get angry at me. When I’m with those other men, I’m doing my job. It feels like work, and it is for me. I need the money, Javier, or else I’d have to drop out of school and still be responsible for my student loans. I’m doing what I was hired to do, the same thing you signed up for, so I don’t need the shit from you.”

Standing up straight from leaning against his car, he chuckles mockingly and shakes his head before countering, “You know, I thought when I was signing up, I would have someone just for me. Didn’t expect to get someone for everyone.”

The tears burning at your waterline fill your view, blurring him standing in front of you until they start to fall in quick succession. Inside of your throat feels raw, swallowing hard and wiping the streams across your face. Mascara is definitely running down your cheeks, and your nose is sniffling while you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth to keep your sobs at bay.

He doesn’t deserve to see you so hurt. He doesn’t get to know how you really feel about him, not anymore. You made a mistake trusting him, crossing the line, and getting too attached.

Another swallow pops in your ears, mustering as much volume as you can without completely breaking, “I really thought you were different, but I guess not. Now I know what you really think about me.”

You shift your weight in your heels, looking at Javi once more, stoicism on high and the emotion you saw before completely void. Anger is strong across his face, with the brief reprieve of gentle care when a small sob slips out. Turning around to walk back inside and collect yourself, the sound of Javi’s rasp stopping you in your tracks.

Javier hears what he said played back in his head, the sight of your tears constricting his throat. With a dry mouth, he stutters out an attempt to back track, “Wait, wait—I didn’t—Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that, Bebita.”

You flinch, the name that normally sends warmth spreading across your chest now feeling like a dagger in your heart.

Facing him again, you cross your arms over your chest as your temper engulfs your emotion for a moment, spitting your response to Javier’s acrimony. “Don’t call me that,” you snap, eyes stinging as you look at him and watch his face fall from your words. “How did you mean it, Javi? Did you mean for it to have me begging for forgiveness, begging you to accept me even though I’m such used merchandise? Well, newsflash, Javier, but this was my job before you came around and screwed with my head. How can you say that shit when you tell me how much you care?”

He takes one step forward, and you take two back, shaking your head at his advance. His eyes round with softness again, tense brow shifting into a sorrowful one. Mumbling under his breath, he runs a hand through his hair before he looks at you. The need to win, to be right, to be justified in the end has him speaking before thinking yet again, “I didn’t know this is what I was getting into exactly. I thought you were with one person at a time, that all of your experiences were from the past, like, year not the past few weeks. I told you that I was only with you — you had plenty of opportunities to let me know about all the other jobs you’ve been doing. Were you telling them all the same shit? How many have you had over? Or stayed over at their place? Was I really just some fucking job, a shift you scheduled every week?”

“Fuck you, Javier. Fuck you. Forget about this, about me, I’ll tell the company to cancel your payments and refund you. Don’t fucking call me, don’t pull me after class. We’re done.”

Finally turning around again, Javier is silent as he watches you walk away, shoulders slumped forward with your arms crossed. Part of him is begging to go after you, to make it alright, to fix it for you. The other part is keeping his feet planted where he’s at, staunch in his anger toward you, toward the situation.

At the sound of the heavy building door shutting behind you, he runs his palm over his face before sighing deeply and getting into his car. He feels something in his pocket, fishing it out and confronted with the lighter you handed to him. His thumb runs over the engraving again, tracing the worn lines of the angel wings in the metal body of the Zippo.

He’s on his way down, falling from the heaven — the haven — you created for him into the familiar abyss of hell.

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my kofi <3

[madeline-ronpa-ask]

Welcome to Madeline County!

Welcome welcome! This is a silly blog I thought about making based on a discord server RP that was based on an AU of The Mandella Catalog! If you’d like to know more on the AU, please see this link to a doc made by @/pristina29! (You’ll need it to understand most of this lmao)

We are currently on the 2nd Season of the game, so there’s that bit too. (when that doc drops I’ll link it aswell dw :3)

If you’d like to join the server, just jump on in and join the fun!

(TW: THE SERVER HAS MENTIONS OF CANIBALISM (Mentions of such topics will be avoided as much as possible on the blog))

ASK RULES:

No NSFW. I feel like this is a given but still. This blog is being run by and asks are answered by minors. Dont.

No RP/M!A asks please! The answerers would rather not RP on Tumblr due to already having the server RPs /lh

Please be sure to clearly address the chars you’re asking! Nobody likes their ask being mixed up w/ another char!

Please be patient with responses! It can be a lengthy process as we all have our personal lives/answering styles!

I’ll edit the rules as I see fit

~ Admin Cookie :3

——————————————————————————————————

CURRENT ASK ABLE CAST (Including Represented Deserts and Living Status):

S1:

Hosts:

Cesar Torres ~ Strawberry Cheesecake - Deceased

Mark Heathcliff ~ Blueberry Muffin - Deceased

Adam Murray ~ Apple Pie - Deceased

Jonah Marshal ~ Lemon Tart - Deceased

Participants:

RED Spy (TF2) ~ Cherry Chocolate Bûche De Noël - Alive

SMG4 ~ Vanilla Cake - Alive

Elizabeth Afton (FNAF, Casronpa!AU (Another server lmao)) ~ Strawberry Ice Cream - Deceased

Jay Merrick (Marble Hornets) ~ Keylime Pie - Deceased

Ludwig Beilshmidt (Hetalia) ~ Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte - Alive

Daniel Mattews (Saw) ~ Forest Cake - Deceased

Hansel Strudel (OC) ~ Candied Green Apple - Deceased

Googleplier (Markiplier Ego) ~ Blue Artificial Doughnut- Deceased

Meta Knight (Kirby) ~ Custard - Deceased

Melodie (Brawl Stars) ~ Starburst Candy - Deceased

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) ~ Strawberry Shortcake - Alive

Peter Spankoffski (Hatchetfeild) ~ Hot Chocolate - Deceased

S2:

RED Scout (TF2) ~ Boston Cream Doughnut - Alive

Mario (Mario and the Music Box) ~ Spaghettiesis Ice Cream - Alive

Marchionne Evangelisti (MATMB) ~ Chocolate Bunny - Alive

KAITO (PJ:SK, Base Vocaloid) ~ Blueberry Ice Cream - Alive

Cielomort (Fragaria Memories) ~ Starry Toffee Cake - Alive

Abbiy (Among Us OC) ~ Pockys - Alive

The Witch (AKA Trixie) (Slay The Princess) ~ Poison Apple - Alive

Alex Evergreen (OC) ~ Chocolate Chip Cookie - Alive

HABIT (EverymanHYBRID) ~ Dark Chocolate Mousse - Alive

Robin (Teen Titans, Fears to Fathom!AU (Another Ronpa lmao)) ~ Blueberry Yogert Parfait - Alive

Feliciano Vargas (Hetalia) ~ Banana Gelato - Alive

Robin (Batman/Superman: World’s Finest) ~ Apple Crumble - Alive

Poppy Skies (OC) ~ Rose Latte - Alive

Izumi Sou (ARSMAGNA) ~ Blueberry Cheesecake - Alive

Celestine (Pokemon S/V Protag OC) ~ Blue Raspberry Snowball - Alive

Kiku (Hetalia) ~ Dango - Alive

King DeDeDe (Kirby) ~ Strawberry Blueberry Shortcake - Alive

The Tailor (Rain World HUMAN!AU) ~ Raspberry Lemonade Ice Cream Float - Alive

Magolor (Kirby) ~ Gâteau Invisible - Alive

Peri (FO:ANW) ~ Ube Cake Roll - Alive

Folly (Regretavator) ~ Black Licorice - Alive

Fridge DJ (It’s Time For The) ~ Tootsie Roll Pop - Alive

Spectators (under cut due to lenghty list):

Scout’s Mother (TF2)

RED Heavy (TF2)

RED Medic (TF2)

BLU Scout (Jeremy) (TF2)

BLU Scout (Jenny) (TF2 OC)

SMG3 (SMG4)

Luigi (MatMB)

Mario (SMG4)

Mario (OG)

Luigi (OG)

Cassidy (FNAF Movie)

Evan (FNAF, Casronpa!AU)

Vanessa (FNAF, Mascot!AU)

El Tigre (Yes, from the Nicktoon)

Alfred F. Jones (Hetalia)

Rin Kagamine (PJ:SK, Base Vocaloid)

Len Kagamine (PJ:SK, Base Vocaloid)

Willmesh (Fragaria Memories)

Lauren (OC)

Kirby (Kirby)

Bandanna Dee (Kirby)

Sailor Dee (Kirby)

Grusha (Pokemon S/V)

Kieran (Pokemon S/V)

Tim (Marble Hornets)

Patrick (MLAndersen0)

Collector (The Owl House)

Akira Kurusu aka Joker (Persona 5)

Raven (Teen Titans)

Starfire (Teen Titans)

Lists will be edited as more chars become available to interact with.