#old men support club

[tmnt-obsessed-ace]

Ok we have a full set of turtles that adopted rise turtles.

Same Story Different Font Leonardo

Shellshock Raphael

Ghost In The Shell Donatello

Know Peace Michelangelo

I wanna see them hanging out, getting into chaos, hell even taking a nap together (god they need it)

Absolutely yes :D

That would be so cool

[inkskinned]

i got rickrolled today but it didn't work because i have adblocker installed, so youtube just told me i violated the terms of service. yesterday i was trying to edit a picture as a joke for my girlfriend, and google made me check a box to prove i'm human because i wasn't "searching normally".

it isn't just that capitalism is killing fun and whimsy, it is that any element of entertainment or joy is being fed upon by this mosquito body, one that will suck you dry at any vulnerability.

do you want to meet new friends in your city? download this app, visit our website, sign up for our email list. pay for this class on making a terrarium, on candlemaking, on cooking. it will be 90 dollars a session. you can go to group fitness, but only under our specific gym membership. solve the puzzle, sign up for our puzzle-of-the-month-club. what is a club if not just a paid opportunity - you are all paying for the same thing, which makes you a community.

but you're like me, i know it - you're careful, you try the library meetings and the stuff at the local school and all of that. the problem is that you kind of want really specific opportunities that used to exist. you are so grateful for libraries and the publicly-funded things: they are, however, an exception - and everything they have, they've fought tooth-and-nail to protect. you read a headline about how in many other states, libraries have virtually nothing left.

do you want to meet up with your friends afterwards? gift your friends the discord app. you can choose to go to a cafe (buy a coffee, at least), a bar (money, alcohol) or you can all stay in and catch a movie (streaming) or you can all stay in bed (rent. don't get me started) and scream (noise complaint. ticket at least).

you want to read a new book, but the book has to have 124 buzzwords from tiktok readers that are, like, weirdly horny. you can purchase this audiobook on audible! your podcast isn't on spotify, it's on its own server, pay for a different site. fuck, at least you're supporting artists you like. the art museum just raised their ticket price. once, they had a temporary exhibit that acknowledged that ~85% of their permanent art galleries were from cis white men, and that they had thousands of works by women (even famous women, like frida! georgia o'keefe!) just rotting in their basement. that exhibit lasted for 3 months and then they put everything away again.

walmart proudly supports this strip of land by the street! here are some flowers with wilting leaves. its employees have to pay out-of-pocket for their uniforms. my friend once got fined by the city because she organized a community pick-up of the riverfront, which was technically private property.

no, you cannot afford to take that dance class, neither can i. by the way - i'm a teacher. i'm absolutely not saying "educators shouldn't be paid fairly." i'm saying that when i taught classes, renting a studio went from 20 bucks an hour to 180 in the span of 6 months. no significant changes to the studio were made, except they now list the place as updated and friendly. the heat still doesn't work in the building. i have literally never seen the landlord who ignores my emails. recently they've been renting it out at night as an "unusual nightclub; a once-in-a-lifetime close-knit party." they spent some of those 180 dollars on LEDs and called it renovating. the high heels they invite in have been ruining the marley.

do you want to experience the old internet? do you want to play flash games or get back the temporary joy of club penguin? you can, you just need to pay for it. i have a weird, neurodivergent obsession with occasionally checking in to watch the downfall and NFT-ification of neopets. if i'm honest with you all - i never got into webkins, my family didn't have the money to buy me a pointless elephant. people forget that "being poor" can mean literally "if i buy you that toy, i can't afford rent."

you and i don't have time to make good food, and we don't have the budget for it. we are not gonna be able to host dinner parties, we're not made of money, kid. do you want some kind of 3rd space? a space that isn't home or work or school? you could try being online, but - what places actually exist for you? tiktok counts as social media because you see other people on it, not because they actually talk to you.

there was a local winter tradition of sledding down the hill at my school. kids would use pizza boxes and jackets and whatever worked, howling and laughing. back in september, they made a big announcement that this time, rules were changing, and everyone must pay 10 dollars to participate. when im not scared shitless, i kind of appreciate the environmental irony - it hasn't gone below 40. so much for snow & joyriding.

i saw a bulletin for a local dogwalking group and, nervous about making a good first impression, showed up early. the first guy there grimaced at me. "sorry," he said. "there's a 30-dollar buy-in fee." i thought he was joking. wait. for what? the group doesn't offer anything except friendship and people with whom to walk around the city.

he didn't know the answer. just shrugged at me. "you know," he said. "these days, everything costs money."

[shellshocklove]

brat! | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x brat!female!reader – no outbreak

summary: joel is having a brat summer.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap, enemies to lovers vibes? swearing, drinking of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes, reader wears a dress, heels and lipstick but otherwise no other descriptions, use of pet names, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, manhandling, a little exhibitionism? fingering, choking, spitting, a little dacryphilia, oral (m receiving), cock worship, spanking, degradation (whore, slut), some sub space territory, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), creampie, one use of the word ‘daddy’, no use of y/n

a/n: this was fun! and naughtier than i thought it was gonna be 💀 i’ve never written a reader so far removed from my own personality lol and i’m kind of obsessed with how this turned out. anyways stream brat by charlie xcx and happy reading! <3

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

Blitzes of red, green, and blue danced before your eyes. The beating in your temples in tune with the bass vibrating in your chest. Around you the faceless bodies moved in slow motion. The heat rose around you as the sweat clung to your skin.

You’re sure you’ve lost your friends. Well, not lost lost. They were in the dancing crowd somewhere. Behind you, the same ugly guy had been rubbing up against you for a minute too long. You knew because you’d tipped your head back once and his borderline bowl cut hair, polo shirt with deep sweat rings under his arms, and tan chinos, were not it.

His breath stank of tequila when he leaned into your ear, “Hey,” he slurred, “wanna get out of here?”

And that had been your cue to leave.

With a scoff, you turned around to get a good look at him. You’d sized him up, made a show of it, and laughed in his face. Then you pushed your way through the crowd, coming up for air by the bar.

The earlier buzz you’d been sailing on, had weaned off a long time ago. It had been last minute, you weren’t even going out tonight, just having dinner with your childhood friends while you were home for the summer. But then one of them had ordered shots for the table just as the last plate had been cleared, and soon you were at the club cruising on a couple of glasses of wine and a lousy shot. Not that it mattered, usually you ended up twirling some sorry man around your finger long enough to get yourself a couple of rounds, before you’d excuse yourself to the ladies’ room and leave with your friends.

Looking down the bar, you searched for tonight’s victim.

To your right a group of girls huddled around the edge, waiting for their own drinks by the looks of it.

Not them.

Down to your left, a boy with a face full of acne fumbled with his card as he paid for a round of beers. He didn’t even look old enough to be in here, but that wasn’t your problem. You had to hold back a laugh as you watched him struggle to figure out how to carry the five beers he’d ordered back to his friends. He ended up gathering them in a circle to wrap his hands around, and you’d seen this go wrong plenty of times to feel the pull of an amused smile on your lips.

When he’d vanished into the crowd, your eyes flicked back to the bar, to the man sitting there– and he was a man. Probably somewhere in his fifties you reckoned, but he looked gorgeous. A real dilf. Your interest was piqued.

You slid down the bar.

He didn’t look particularly amused where he sat at a bar stool, nursing a beer in his hands. Who sits at the bar in the club? He looked nice. Brown hair, dark jeans, and a grey t-shirt stretched deliciously over his chest. When you got closer you could see a flannel resting beside him on the bar.

Is this what older men wear to the club these days?

He didn’t seem to notice you as you sat down next to him – either that, or he ignored you. You kinda wished for the latter, it would make it more fun.

You gave him a few more minutes of silence, of your presence, to see if he’d say something to you. When he didn’t you asked him over the music, “Aren’t you gonna buy me a drink?”

You said it innocently, but like it was obvious and he hadn’t caught on yet. His head turned towards you, still unamused, but with his eyebrow raised.

Okay, you could work with that.

You didn’t say anything as he studied you, drank you in like you’d done to him from afar. You felt his gaze over your clinging dress, your bare shoulders, before they found your eyes.

Something tickled in your core, and you were reminded of how long it had been since you’d been properly fucked– fucked by someone who wasn’t some drunk guy at your college’s parties, but fucked by someone who knew what they were doing.

The man turned towards you; a smile tickling the corner of his mouth.

“Does that usually work f’you, sweetheart?”

You weren’t expecting his rebuttal, but you liked it. He wasn’t some boy who’d trip over himself for the privilege of being in the presence of you. The boys – they made it too easy – but this man would make you work for it.

Putting on your most saccharine smile you slid closer to him, “You looked so lonely over here– thought I’d keep you company.”

A scoffing laugh escaped him, and his head dipped, “’s that so?” His eyes found yours again.

“Haven’t seen you here before,” you ignored his question, and brushed your heeled foot up the length of his calf.

“Ain’t ever been here before,” he kept his eyes on your face, his drawl pulling at the words and twisting up your insides.

“So, a virgin, huh?” you teased, and that seemed to amuse him.

“What– you’re here to pop my cherry?”

This time an amused smile pulled at your face. You liked this man. “Not without a drink first,” your foot slid down his calf, “what do you take me for?”

A bright sense of pride filled your chest when you made him laugh, filling you up with confidence.

“D’you want me to answer that?” he rebutted.

He didn’t say it with any malice, it was teasing and playful, and it pulled at the veil inside you. A genuine smile pulled at the corners of your mouth, “Probably not.”

“What can I getcha, then, sweetheart?”

“G&T?” you said, and bit down on your bottom lip coquettishly.

Turning away from you, the man got the attention of the bartender. You watched his profile, followed the line of his jaw, the shape of his nose. You decided then and there that your night was gonna end in this man’s bed.

“Sooo,” you sang, when you’d gotten your drink, “first time here, huh?” The man just nodded, before he sipped his beer.  

Not much of a talker, huh?

“You here alone, or? With the wife maybe?”

That pulled a laugh from him. “I’m here with my lil’ brother… bachelor party,” he shook his head, like he couldn’t believe he’d gotten dragged in here, “he’s gettin’ married next month.”

“Ah,” you nodded and took a sip of your drink. “So, where are you heading next? A strip club?” you teased.

The man just shot you an unimpressed look, and you thought about how you’d never seen a man look so out of place, ever.

“What? The wife won’t let you?”

A sharp huff escaped him, “Ain’t got no wife no more,” he said matter-of-factly.

You took another sip of your drink to hide the smile from forming.

Bingo.

“I take it you’re a man who does what he wants, then?” you said it innocently, and subtly slid your hand over his knee. His eyes caught yours at the touch, and you swore you saw something change in them.

You’d hooked him now, all you had to do was reel him in.

He turned his body towards you – he did it slowly, like every muscle he moved had been calculated beforehand. Then he leaned in closer, his hot breath huffing against your ear.

“Takes one to know one, ain’t that right?”

Under your skin, you buzzed, your heart beating out of your chest at the new proximity. You had to stay cool, play it off, act unbothered. So, you pulled away slightly, and turned your head to meet his eyes.

“What?” he challenged with a raise of an eyebrow, “Ain’t used to people talkin’ back?”

When you didn’t say anything right away, a smug grin coated his lips, “Yeah, I know girls like you.”

“There’s no girls like me,” you argued back, his confidence both pissing you off, and turning you on at the same time.

“Oh, but there are– Spoiled daddy’s girls who ain’t had anyone tellin’ them no their whole life. They do what they want, and play with who they want– I know a brat when I see one.”

Your eyes narrowed at him as he pulled away, that infuriating smug grin not going anywhere. The worst part was that he was right, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“But you like that don’t you?” you challenged, “I bet you live in some sad house in a sleepy suburban cul-de-sac, go to the same boring job every day, and wish your wife never left you.”

A flash of hurt could be seen across his face as those last words left your lips, and you thought you’d maybe gone too far. A beat of silence passed between you, the buzzing beat of the club music keeping the tune of the tension building.

You were about to apologize when he finally spoke, “You’re a rude one, aren’t ya?”

His voice didn’t sound as hurt as you’d thought, and you realize he was playing your game. You almost had him.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” you challenged, hammering the final nail in the coffin.

“That depends on you, sweetheart.”

Outside the club, Joel (the man had finally introduced himself) leaned against the bricks of the alley as you fished a cigarette from your purse. According to your phone, your uber would be there in ten minutes. The fresh air had sobered you up slightly, exchanging the buzzing alcohol in your veins with excitement.

You didn’t know what you were in for.

Over your skin, you felt his gaze roll over you, and you let him look. Let him study your body filling out your sheer, white, almost see-through dress. You didn’t offer him a cigarette; he’d have to ask for it himself, or take it, if he wanted a drag.

“So,” you took a drag of your cigarette, savoring the first tar-y breath, before exhaling through your nose, “where are you taking me?”

Joel shifted his weight against the bricks as his arms crossed over his wide chest. “Whatchu call it? My sad house?” he said, his voice bordering on cold if it wasn’t for the smug smile covering his features.

You gave him a sultry look as you stepped closer, crossing one heeled foot in front of the other, slowly.

“Mmm,” you hummed, as you tilted your head with an uninterested face, “Sounds fucking boring to me.” Your finger climbed up his chest, eyes traveling from his chest to his face. His stern face gave nothing away, as you took another drag of your cigarette and blew the smoke in his face.

Finally, he’d had enough. His large hand wrapped around your wrist, and tightened, before he turned you around and pushed you up against the wall. You let out an exaggerated huff as your body hit the bricks, your cigarette slipping from your fingers. He pushed himself up against you, and you couldn’t contain the satisfied grin on your face, pleased to have pushed his buttons enough to finally act.

“Oh, I’ll show you boring, brat.”

A rough hand danced up the side of your thigh and under the hem of your dress. Challenging him, you squirmed against the grip of his other hand around your wrist.

“Nuh-uh,” he shook his head, and he was so close now you felt his breath ghost over your lips. With a twist of your arm, he pinned it behind your back, Joel now completely in control, and a buzz of arousal spread through your body at the thought.

“You listen’ up now, and I’m only gonna say it once: you’re gonna do as I say, when I say it, and no talkin’ back, we clear?” His voice was stern, but his dark brown eyes gave him away; how they’d widened with lust, blown out and dark. Your panties already soaked at the thought of what he had in mind for you tonight.

“Yes,” you said playfully, biting down at your bottom lip through a smile.

“Yes, sir,” he corrected as his rough hand on your thigh slid closer and closer to the seam of your thong. “Good girls who do as they’re told get rewarded, you understand?”

You nodded, sucking in a breath as you felt his fingers brush over your clit lightly. He was testing you now, teasing you, and pushing your buttons. You felt like you were on fire, burning from arousal; it licked up your thighs and flickered bright in your core.

Where was that fucking uber?

“But you ain’t no good girl,” he snickered, sliding his hand past your panties, “teasin’ me– tryna provoke me,” he shook his head, and a slick sound of your arousal could be heard as he worked two thick fingers through your wet folds.  

His finger poked at your hole where it ached for him. The thick tension between you weighed heavy with arousal as Joel leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Imma have to punish you for that, baby, put you in your place.”

A gasp left your lips as he pressed two fingers inside. The stretch stung slightly, but you welcomed the pain, liked it. A satisfied grin blossomed over your face as he started moving his fingers. They felt so good inside of you, so thick, almost like a cock, and the way his palm rubbed against your clit– it gave you just enough stimulation to push you towards the edge of an orgasm.

“Look at you, slut,” his breath was hot as he whispered in your ear, “so desperate to get fucked.”

A strangled moan escaped your throat, and you couldn’t help but grind against his fingers to chase the pleasure he was giving you. The degrading words and humiliation only made you wetter. Joel couldn’t get any more perfect– so far, he'd played his part to the T.

“In your– fuck!” You moaned as the pad of his fingers brushed up against your g-spot. Just a little more now, and he’d have you coming on his fingers.

“Didn’t hear you, sweetheart, y’need to speak up,” he taunted, continuing the pace of his fingers.

“In your d-dreams, old man,” you tried to spit out, but the pleasure he gave you was taking over, making you stumble over your words.

Quickly, Joel withdrew his fingers, sliding them up the front of your cunt, giving your clit a slap, before he backed off completely. You gasped; face pulled tight in a disappointed frown.

“What the fuck!?”

And then he fucking laughed, fucking laughed at you.

“I already told you, sweetheart, only good girls get rewarded.”

He stepped closer again, his hand cupping your cheek while the other pressed the fingers coated in your arousal to your lips. “Clean up your mess, and we’ll see ‘bout that reward.”

Parting your lips, he stuffed his fingers inside your mouth. They tasted of you, a sweet-salty taste. You closed your lips around them, and sucked, letting your tongue tease around his fingers the way you’d tease his cock. “That’s it, good girl,” he grinned, and it sparked a small flame of pride in your chest.

When he was pleased with you, he slipped his fingers from your mouth. He let them glide over your lips, smearing your lipstick and coating your lips in your own saliva as a set of headlights illuminated the street. Then, he patted your cheek, nodding towards what you assumed was your uber as it rolled to a stop in front of you, “Go on, get in the uber.”

In the uber Joel was quiet, ignoring you as were forced to make small talk with the driver (you’d give him a bad review just for that). When you thought the small talk had been torture enough, Joel slid his hand up your thigh, resting his big palm right at the seam of your leg as he looked out the window. If your panties weren’t already soaked from what he’d done to you in the alleyway of the club, then they definitely were now as the anticipation only grew.

Joel’s house wasn’t sad at all. It was quaint, and suburban, but homey. Nice. No expensive designer furniture, but sturdy and of good quality either way. He had no rare art, but a decent amount of family photos and what looked like a child’s drawings. You stopped in the middle of the stairs to admire them. In one of them Joel looked as old as you were now, with a baby in his arms, in another he had his arm around the shoulders of another man who looked a lot like him, just with darker hair. His brother probably, the one getting married. The little baby was a little girl, and she grew up in front of you; birthday parties, first days of school, soccer uniforms. Your eyes landed on a photo of her in a graduation cap with Joel and the other man at her side, grinning wide with a college diploma in her hands. This man wasn’t who you’d thought. He had a family– a daughter your age. The wall of memories squeezed at your heart, made something inside you always kept hidden break forth–

“You comin’?”

Joel waited at the top of the stairs for you, his face pulled into a confused frown. You skipped up the stairs, happy to have left your heels by his door. When you got to the top, you pushed at his chest, “Just looking at your sad things.” With a roll of his eyes, he led you to his bedroom.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, but his voice was distant, the bite from the club was gone.

It felt like the perfect opportunity to play with him.

“No,” you blinked innocently, your eyes wide as you watched him unbutton his green flannel, “you’ll have to make me.”

He let out a laugh that sounded more like a sigh, “I’m serious, sweetheart, I need to talk to you first.”

Talk?

“You can’t get it up, is that it? You’re too old?” you teased but sat down at the bed either way.

“You really are mean, aren’t ya?” His laugh sounded like a surrender. “A man wantin’ to be a gentleman and establish boundaries before he ruins her, and this is what he gets?”

Shaking his head, he walked closer, and cupped your head in his hands. “I plan on bein’ rough with ya, sweetheart, and I think that’s what you want too, isn’t it? Get fucked so hard you can’t think?” You nodded your head in his arms, the velvet bass of his voice going straight to your core.

“Listen’ closely– if I do anythin’ you don’t like, you say ‘red’ and we stop, and if you can’t speak then you pinch me, you hear?”

You nodded again.

“Words, baby, need y’to say it with that pretty voice.” His thumbs brushed over your cheek.

You nodded again, “Yes, sir… if I want you to stop, I say ‘red’, or pinch you.”

“Good girl,” he praised, “Anythin’ else?”

“Um…” Your front teeth caught on your bottom lip, “I’m on birth control– you can come inside me if you want.”

A noise rumbled in Joel’s chest. “Such a naughty girl,” his thumb brushed over the plump of your lips, “letting a stranger come inside her, huh?”

You nodded again, a wicked smile breaking against his thumb before you opened your mouth, and bit down. Not hard, just enough to pull a reaction from him, and you did.

Like a switch, the warm whiskey eyes faded into a deep black. The grip on your chin slid downwards, where it found your neck. He didn’t squeeze, but his grip wasn’t gentle either, holding you in place like a warning.

“You ought to treat me with more respect, brat…” he spat, his thumb digging into the column of your neck, “Apologize for your rude behavior.”

Against his hand, you shook your head to the best of your abilities, his grip tightening with your movement. You wished he’d choke you properly, make your head all fuzzy and empty– filled with nothing except for him.

“No.”

His face turned to stone above you, and you felt a giddiness flutter in your stomach.

 He didn’t like that.  

In one quick motion his hand was ripped from your throat as he stepped away. He didn’t look at you as he sighed, his hands falling to his belt buckle, sharp metal clinking.

Taking advantage of the moment, you admired the man before you. How big and broad he was. How his t-shirt stretched tight over his broad chest, biceps bulging against the woven fabric. You studied his hands as they fiddled with his buckle, thought about how good they’d felt inside you earlier, the pleasurable sting as they’d stretched you out.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered, voice cold.

When you didn’t move, he took matters into his own hands.

“Get. On. Your. Fuckin’. Knees.”

His grip around your wrist was tight, as he pushed you down. The hardwood floor dug into your knees as he manhandled you, sure to bruise tomorrow. He stood his ground in front of you, legs slightly parted as you were now eye level with his inviting bulge. He was big, and you felt your eyes widen. Even hidden away in his jeans you could see it, see the length of his hard cock strain against his thigh – it made your mouth water as you squeezed your thighs together.

“Look me in the eyes,” he told you, and your eyes flicked upwards – obedient for once. “Eyes up here at all times– Don’t you fuckin’ dare look away.”

He made it hard to do as he’d ordered, popping the button on his jeans, and pulling the zipper down. You wanted to see his cock, touch it, feel it inside you. He couldn’t possibly expect you to not look when it was right there.

"Disobedient slut.” 

The slap came quicker than the stolen glance, and your hand came up to graze your cheek on pure instinct. It stung under your palm, like a thousand little knives.

“What did I jus’ say?” He spat out the question, his hand gripping your chin to force eye contact.

“Look away?” you tried, your voice rising an octave.

“Open your fuckin’ mouth,” he sighed, leaning closer, “I ain’t wanna hear any more of your fuckin’ attitude.”

His grip tightened on your chin and your mouth dropped open by itself, “Open your mouth– that’s it… wider, just like that.”

Then he spat, right into your mouth.

You flinched at the suddenness of it, but Joel’s grip on your chin held you still– kept your mouth open, as you felt his spit slide further and further into your throat. You had a feeling you shouldn’t swallow until he told you, so you didn’t, your head pliant in his hand as you let him study you. A wide grin spread across his face as he moved your head from one side to the other, his rough fingers denting into your skin as you waited for your next command.

“Swallow, brat.”

He let go of your face, and you closed your mouth, swallowing down his spit with an audible gulp. “Good girl,” he muttered and stood tall, hooking his fingers into the waistband of his jeans.

The rough sound of denim against skin filled your ears as he freed himself. You were on your best behavior now, gathering your hands in your lap, sitting pretty for him as you locked eyes with him coquettishly.

“That’s better,” he said, “Actin’ like a proper good girl now,” he praised.

It took everything in you not to look, as he stepped closer.

With a fist tight around his cock, he brought the head to your mouth. He tapped it on your lips, smearing the precum beading at the tip and ruined your lipstick.

You wanted to taste him so badly, but he couldn’t know that. Pinching your lips together, you shook your head with wide coquettish eyes. His eyebrows pinched together in a frown, eyes narrowing at you as he pushed his cock against your lips.

“Open that pretty fuckin’ mouth, f’me,” he ordered.

Pretty. He called you pretty, and it was enough for you, you gathered, and stretched your mouth open for him.

“That’s it, wider.”

You twitched in surprise as he slapped the length against your tongue. It was heavy on your tongue, the salty taste of his precum mixing with your saliva as he rubbed the head over your tongue, in and out, in and out – coating his big cock in your saliva, “just like that, baby, get it nice ‘nd wet.”

Closing your lips around the mushroom tip, you ran your tongue around it in circles, teasing the underside and the slit, before you tipped your head back. His cock bobbed in front of you obscenely, a frown formed on his face again and you knew he was about to tell you off.

Gathering a blob of saliva in your mouth, you spat on his cock instead. A low humming laugh rumbled from Joel’s chest, as he collected your spit and rubbed it in over his shaft in slow strokes. The spit dripped down, down over your front where you felt it darken the fabric of your dress. Subtly, you reached your hands behind your back to pull at the zipper.

“Yeah, that’s right, get those pretty tits out f’me.”

He let you maneuver out of your dress while he stroked his cock slowly in front of your face, and finally, you could get a good look at him. He was bigger than you’d thought from his bulge. Veins lining his thick shaft as you watched the way his fist moved up, massaging the tip gently, and down again in a slow, steady rhythm. At the base unruly curls of dark hair shone in the spit gathering, and you let your eyes wander downward to his balls where they hung heavy.

You wanted to taste them, too.

With your dress discarded on the floor beside you, you sat up slightly, spreading your legs and tucking your calves up to your thighs. Almost naked, safe for the thong splitting your cheeks, you arched your back slightly, making sure he got a good view of your ass.

A groan rumbled in Joel’s chest, and a hand came down on your head, “You want my cock, don’t you, slut?” he spat, slapping his cock on your right cheek, spreading your spit on your skin.

“Do you make all your girls wait this long or is it just me?” you tutted, almost rolling your eyes at him.

“There’s that fuckin’ attitude again.”

Slapping his cock harder against your cheek, he leaned forward letting a blob of spit drip from his own lips, coating both his cock and your face as he rubbed it in with his cock.

It was obscene, degrading, and you’d never been wetter.

In desperation to taste him again, you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out. The hand he’d used to stroke himself, wrapped around your skull, caging his cock between his hand and your face as he started thrusting against your face, his heavy balls rubbing against your chin with every slow push.

It was messy, sloppy, and wet. He held your head steady with his other hand, while he continued rubbing his cock over your cheek, nose, and forehead. His spit mixed with your own as you lapped at the underside of his cock; trying to taste as much of him as he’d give you.

“You dirty little whore,” he smiled, “You like that don’t you?”

Under him you whimpered, clit pulsing with want as he made you his plaything, did what he wanted with you.

“Yeah,” you moaned unabashedly, licking greedily at the underside of his cock.

At that, he laughed, and the grip on your head loosened as he pulled back. You only had time to take a deep breath before he stuffed his cock down your throat. It was abrupt, and harsh – the hefty length of him making room for himself inside your mouth.

You couldn’t fit him all inside, gagging as the head of him hit the back of your throat. He held you there still, one second, two seconds, three seconds. Your hand found his thigh where you tapped at him, and finally he pulled away.

You gasped for air, your breath wet with spit as small tears pricked at your eyes. His hand landed on top of your head again, grounding you to the moment as he searched your eyes, checking in.

No, you tried to convey, you’re not too rough.

Pleased, his cock bumped against your lips again, and you dropped your mouth open for him again.

“That’s it,” he murmured, thrusting his cock back in your mouth, “let’me fuck that throat open.”

Dropping your jaw, you tried to make room for him in your mouth. It wasn’t easy, your lips stretched wide around the girth of him as you tried to calm yourself, to open your throat for him to abuse. His cock was easily the biggest cock you’d ever sucked, and you told yourself you needed to relax.

He pressed himself deeper, and you let out a whimper. “Work with me, slut, hold still.”

Trying your best to obey, you breathed through your nose, staving off your gag reflex the best you could as the head knocked at the back of your throat. His other hand cupped your chin, keeping your head still between his large hands. A tear rolled down your cheek when he rutted into your mouth, testing the waters.

“Good girl,” he praised, fucking gently into your mouth. Saliva gathered in your mouth, drooling down your chin with each thrust. “Such a fuckin’ mess– Look me in the eye as I fuck your throat.”

Your hand wrapped around his wrist, keeping you steady as you locked eyes with him. It was difficult, tears clouding him in a vignette, but you did as you were told. He studied you closely, tested your boundaries, completely in control.

You gasped for air when he finally pulled back again. A wet string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock. A proud smirk coated his lips, while his hand stroked your head in praise.

The small moment of relief passed quickly, and soon his cock was back in your throat, bruising it in a steady rhythm.

“Take that fuckin’ cock all the way down your throat, whore,” he spat, his thrust a little rougher now that he knew you could take it.

He had you at his mercy now as he ruined you. Ruined your throat, ruined your body, ruined you for other men. Tears mixed with snot, which mixed with spit as it ran down your chin, dripping lewdly onto your tits where it made a mess.

Over you, Joel rambled.

“Good fuckin’ slut.”

“Choke on that big fuckin’ cock.”

“You love it don’t you?”

And you did, you loved it. Joel made you feel useful for once in a life – a fucked up thought, but then again you never said you weren’t fucked up. Joel’s words were filthy and dirty, and as humiliating as they were he made you feel wanted.

You just wanted to be wanted.

Another gasp of air filled your lungs as he slipped from your mouth. His grip on your head was tighter now, his cock throbbing in front of you. As much as you wanted him to fuck you, you wouldn’t complain if he came down your throat. He’d given you so much already.

“Fuck,” he whispered and let go of your head.

You took the opportunity to catch your breath, sniffling as you wiped at the snot that clogged up your nose. His hand came down to squeeze at the base of himself, clearly staving off his orgasm.

“What,” you croaked, your voice hoarse after his assault on your throat, “you’re so old you can’t come now?”

His eyes darkened as they locked with yours, and a giddy bouncing feeling twisted in on itself in your tummy. You wanted to see what he’d do to you– how he’d fuck you, and if you’d have to push his buttons to see it, you gladly push the big red button.

His hand wrapped around your bicep, digging into the skin as he dragged you to your feet and pushed you towards the bed.

“Still a fuckin’ brat I see,” he spat, “We can’t have that can we?”

Putting on your best puppy dog eyes, you bit down on your bottom lip. “Who me?” you said innocently.

“Bend over, slut,” he ordered, his voice coated in a tone that said he was fed up with your bullshit. Strong arms turned you around, manhandling you, and pushed your front down on his bed, “’nd spread your fuckin’ legs.”

With a kick to your ankles, he forced your legs open. Tipping your head up, you locked eyes with your reflection in the window, like a camera lens capturing your ruin at Joel’s hand. He hovered over you, his eyes trailing over your naked body, laid out for him to take.

The first smack came quickly, hard, and brutal on your ass cheek. It made you jump, the muscles in your ass clenching as you tried to reel yourself in. Joel’s rough hand soothed over the burn immediately, and you turned your neck to find his eyes.

“I wanna hear an apology from you, brat,” he said calmly, one finger hooking into the lace of your thong.

You shook your head. Stubborn. “No.”

His head fell between his shoulders, while his finger hooked in your thong tightened its grip, and with a hard tug, he ripped it in two.

“Then I’m gonna have to punish ya.” He said it with a deep sigh, like he had no other choice.

You couldn’t hide the excitement that filled you at those words, your cunt now dripping with need. A need for Joel.

With the scrap of your thong now discarded his hand danced over your ass. You tried not to hold your breath, but he drew it out, and you couldn’t help it. The tension in the air so thick, you couldn’t focus.

Smack!

He spanked your other cheek hard, and the tension was released with a whimper. A tickling feeling of pins and needles spread through your cheek.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

They came in quick procession, your hands gripping the sheets for a lifeline as he put you in your place. Moans fell from your lips without abandon, and you felt yourself drip down your legs.

Smack!

“Look how wet you are,” he noticed, running a finger through your seam, “You like it? Only desperate whores like to get spanked.”

He leaned over you, his soft belly (when had he removed his shirt?) pressed against your back, coarse hair tickling your skin, as you felt his hard cock rub up against your sore ass.

“But that’s what you are, ain’t you? A desperate fucking whore.” His breath in your ear, had goosebumps erupt down your spine, and you sobbed out a whine.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he whispered, and pulled away – taking his warmth with him.

Smack!

Tears pushed their way behind your eyes, not because you didn’t like it, but it stung like a motherfucker. Joel wasn’t all brutal, he rubbed your skin between hits, but fuck if it didn’t also hurt with pleasure.

“Say you’re sorry,” he demanded.

Turning around you shook your head, big wide eyes watching him as he spanked you again.

Smack!

“You’re tearing up, little girl– It stings doesn’t it?” he asked, voice laced with fake pity.

You nodded.

“Well, maybe you should be a good girl then– say you’re sorry.”

Smack!

“I’m sorry!” you blurted out, voice cracking.

Finally.

Joel stopped immediately, his hand twisting around your waist to flip you on your back. His eyes danced over your body, almost tenderly but still full of lust. His hand moved up and down your sides, down the thick of your thigh before they gripped your ankles and tugged.

A squeal escaped you as he manhandled you, his large hands cupping your face while he fitted himself between your legs. “Good girl,” he cooed, thumbs stroking your cheeks, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You shook your head in his hands, popping your lip out in an innocent pout.

“No,” he cooed, removing a hand to fit between your bodies.

You gasped when you felt the head of his cock bump your clit, the first real stimulation you’d had since you’d left the ally by the club. Your hips bucked by themselves, chasing the friction of his touch.

“Who owns this cunt?” he asked you, dark eyes staring into yours as he dragged his cock through your soaked folds.

“You do, sir,” you sighed immediately, your whole body aching for him.

A wide wicked grin spread across his face, “Lookit you bein’ such a good girl– finally know your place, huh?”

With no warning, you felt the blunt head of him press at your opening, and then Joel pushed inside you. Your mouth parted in a gasp at the intrusion; eyes glazed over in bliss as you felt yourself get split in two around the girth of his cock. He was so big, filling you up inch by inch, a heavy pressure poking at the deepest part of yourself.

“There you go, baby– you jus’ take it. Take all that cock inside,” he grunted, eyebrows pinched tight.

All you could do was moan as you felt him bottom out inside you, “Shit,” you gasped, “So fuckin’ big.”

“I know, baby, you’re doin’ so good f’me,” he praised, starting to rock his hips into you.

He picked up the pace quickly when he was sure you could take it, splitting you open on his cock as he made you takeit. Under him you could feel yourself float away in the pleasure. His hand came up to wrap around your neck and a big smile spread across your face.

You felt so warm. Joel felt so fucking good.

He reduced you to a puddle, a puddle of pleasure and ecstasy. It was better than any drug you’d ever taken. Better than the first day of summer vacation. Better than anything you’d ever known. The sound of skin against skin faded away into a tranquil rhythm of pleasure. You belonged to him now, lived only for him and the way his cock felt inside you.

“Feel how deep that is?” he asked you, somehow having maneuvered your knees to press into your chest.

You couldn’t do anything other than nod, desperate and whiny. You needed to fucking come. Inside you, his cock bumped into a spot no other man had reached before, and a fluttering feeling coiled itself in your core.

You were so close now.

“Joel,” you gasped, searching for the words as he continued his pace, balls slapping hard against your ass.

“No,” he told you, teeth gritted, “You hold it, slut, you hold it ‘till I give you permission.”

Later, a thought of how he’d had you so close to coming without even a tap at your clit would graze you, but in this moment your thought were only filled with Joel. A hand found his bicep, you needed something to hold on to or you’d burst, and squeezed. Above you Joel’s groans and moans got louder.

“Hold it.”

Tears streamed down your face, as you heaved for breath. You were right there, right on the edge now.

Please, Joel, please, sir, please.

“Come.”

Arching your back off the mattress, you shook as you finally tipped over the edge of bliss. The sounds escaping your throat weren’t your own, they were someone else’s, someone possessed with pleasure.

A “Thank you,” fell from your lips, but you don’t think he heard you. Above you, Joel’s movement became more and more erratic, thrusting himself deeper and deeper before a loud groan vibrated through his chest.

“You take it,” he growled, “take all that fuckin’ cum inside.”

He slammed his hips hard against you, pushing himself as deep as he could inside you, and came with a loud primal groan. His cock twitched within your walls as he emptied himself inside your cunt, the warmth of him filled you up as he painted your walls with cum.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he mumbled, burying his face in your neck, “That cum feels so good inside, don’t it?” he cooed, and you nodded, your hands tangling in his hair. He pulled back and thrusted inside you again, fucking his cum deeper inside.

He stayed inside you as you both caught your breaths. His weight felt good on you, you were safe, as you floated somewhere between reality and a space you’d never been pushed to before.

And you missed him when he pulled away, sliding his half-hard cock from your fucked out cunt, dragging you with him up the bed. You reached for him, laying your hand open against his sheets, but he didn't see it, eyes mesmerized by his spend dripping out of you. His fingers slid through the mess, pushing his cum back inside as his eyes found yours.

Then something in the air shifted, and whatever had come over you, was gone. His fingers left streaks of wetness down the inside of your thigh as he pulled away. For the first time in your life, you didn’t know what to say.

You were ruined now – he’d ruined you for everyone who wasn’t him.

You sat up, turning your head over your shoulder to watch him, watch how his eyes trailed your body.

“Smoke?” you asked, your voice more unsteady than you’d thought.

Joel shook his head as you slung your feet off the bed to find your purse. He sat up against the pillows resting against his broken bed frame. Your eyes raked over his naked body as you fished a cigarette from your packet; drank in his strong arms, his wide chest and followed the dark hair of his happy trail down his belly to his soft cock between his thighs, still coated in your combined cum. Between your legs you could still feel his thick spend leak out of you.

You brought the cigarette to your lips, and just as you were about to light up Joel’s rough voice spoke, “Out the window,” he ordered with a nod in the direction of the window.

Everything was back to how it was before.

A dramatic huff escaped you, “All right…” you muttered.

You felt too heavy– he’d messed with your head; made you show him the real you. He couldn’t see that. So instead, you put your mask back on, turning to face the window to conceal the mischievous smile threating to spill across your face.

“Daddy.”

Behind you, as you cracked open the window, you heard the bed creak. You played it cool, lighting your cigarette and blowing the smoke out the window.

Joel’s breath teased at the back of your neck and over your bare shoulder, making goosebumps dance down your spine, “Thought I’d fucked the attitude out of ya,” his voice was stern.

“Guess I was wrong.”

part two -> here!

i hope someone liked this? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

House Calls.

Professor!Terrence x Aaliyah

Summary: Aaliyah has an elusive charm that can be alluring to some and frustrating to others. Professor Terry is compelled to have her. On one fateful evening at his college buddies bachelor party, he runs into Aaliyah. An interaction he hadn’t imagined would ever happen.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ CONTENT, based off of Players Club, Nasty Talk, Professor!Student.

Part Two

The calming effects of the incense burning within his Acadian–style home in Baton Raq. Lauryn Hill playing from a vinyl record was enough to ease his mind after grading over thirty midterm papers. Terry shut his laptop and released a soft sigh. He reached up with his long fingers, taking off his glasses. The burning at the corners of his blue-grey eyes caused him to rub. He was exhausted and in need of a long vacation somewhere tropical after this semester ended.

He pushed away from his elegant, black oak wood desk to stand, stretching his long legs and flexing his quads. Terry wore a boxy–fit graphic T-shirt with a photo of Nina Simone printed on the front and thigh–hugging drawstring, black shorts. His feet covered in long, black Adidas socks led him towards the door to his home office. He would have stepped on the tail of his British Brown Shorthair cat if he hadn’t spotted him creeping between his legs as he walked.

“Orion, watch out…”

The cat slowly moved away, staring up at Terry with its golden eyes.

His stomach grumbled. Terry remembered that he’d had leftover red beans and rice. He walked into his spacious kitchen, opening a cabinet to grab a soup bowl and then he strolled over to his silverware drawer, grabbing a large spoon. Ex–Factor faded in the background while he scooped the last of the food into his bowl. He paused, snapping his fingers in remembrance of the honey butter cornbread he’d made to eat with it.

After warming his food, Terry didn’t bother sitting in his dining room. He leaned over the counter and tucked into his food, appreciative sounds between bites mixed with his spoon scraping the side of the bowl the only noise. His tongue slipped out to catch a few crumbs from his lips after scarfing down the last of his cornbread. Terry shook his head and rubbed his belly as he cleared his mess.

“Damn good,” He muttered while walking towards his sink.

He accepted the burn of his muscles from his morning workout while crouching down to grab some surface disinfectant from beneath his sink. That let him know he went hard in the gym. His tongue smoothed over his teeth to get rid of food while he used a Bounty paper towel to clean. His eyes flicked to the window in his kitchen when he’d heard loud voices passing by his home.

The Apple Watch on his wrist with a stainless steel band alerted Terry to a phone call. He headed back to his office and reached over his desk to grab it from the charger.

“Wassam Bitch!”

Terry released a boisterous, deep laugh. All his teeth showing.

“Cousin! You good?” Terry replied.

“Chillin’ fam. Just left Unc house…”

“He straight?”

“You know how he do. Was in the garden wit’ his woman picking tomatoes and shit. I had to break it to ‘em that he ain’t invited tonight. HE CAN’T COME!”

“Mike, don’t do Unc like that…he wanna be there to support his son.”

“No old heads, TJ. We discussed this. I don’t want him getting a heart attack seeing all that buku ass clapping.”

Terry snickered with his phone to his ear as he made his way into his living room. He wanted to break in his new furniture.

“Layla snoopin’ ‘round the house. She heard about the strippers…”

“Thought you said she was cool about it?”

“She is. But ya know…”

Terry made a face on the other end of the line. He knew how his cousin could get. Tonight is indeed about fun, but if Mike messed up, Layla wouldn’t take him back a second time. Out of all the men attending, Terry is the most levelheaded. Majority of the men in his family and Mike’s friends were a bunch of crazy motherfuckers. He already knows how tonight is gonna turn out.

“No fuckin’ up, Cousin.” Terry stated.

“Already, Marine.” Mike joked.

——

She did a slow two–step with a roll of her hips in a sinuous manner to the late, great Aaliyah – she was honored to share her name – and Tank.

Can I come over? (Can I)

Come over (Stop by)

Come over (To see you)

Come over (Tonight?)

Can I come over? (Can I)

Come over (Get with you?)

Come over (I just wanna)

Come over (Be with you, baby)

Can I come over? (Can I)

Come over (Stop by)

Come over (To see you)

Come over (Tonight?)

Can I come over? (Can I)

Come over (Get with you?)

Come over (Just wanna)

Yeah (Be with you, baby)…

Bonnet on her head, a tank top that’s way too cropped and showing off under–boob with skimpy hot pink boy shorts covered her curvy frame. Aaliyah had just finished making her bed, freshly laundered sheets feeling cozy beneath her hands as she spread out the wrinkles. The next song on her Slow Jamz playlist was Ciara–Promise. Aaliyah tapped the side of her mouth in thought while staring at the neatly stacked money on her side table. She didn’t feel like digging for her mini safe tucked in the back of her closet, but she needed to put the money somewhere safe.

She made almost three grand. Aaliyah really enjoyed herself a week ago at the Fire Station. She craved that attention and excitement. Doing content from home was great, but to show out in person? Oh…it stroked her so good. She was so damn ecstatic that she came home and rubbed one out with her fingers deep in her pussy. Making a man react the way he does to her literal being just ignited something in her.

Aaliyah placed the money in her safe and organized her closet. After that, she grabbed herself a bowl of green grapes and crawled into bed. She popped a grape into her mouth while watching re–runs of P–Valley on mute, eyes reading the subtitles. She already knew what was going on, just something to distract her. She rocked her body in bed to Donell Jones–This Luv, lip syncing and snapping her fingers.

She wondered what Professor Richmond was up to…

Aaliyah kissed her teeth at her lingering thoughts. This week was filled with tension. She walked into that classroom on Wednesday, hauling her school bag and a pep in her step. She dressed in skater jeans and a tight Ed Hardy T-shirt with a gray hoodie unzipped.

“Today class, we’ll discuss morality…”

He had a tiny sculpture of Aristotle in his hand, long, manicured fingers grasping it firm. Today, he wore a perfectly fitting, short sleeve, mock neck black shirt with charcoal grey slacks and black loafers. The glasses on his face reflected the light perfectly whenever he moved his head. It was something about his eyes today that just…drew Aaliyah in. They seemed brighter.

She propped her elbow on her desk and rested her chin in her hand. That foot started to bounce beneath her desk, and when his eyes met hers, she had to turn away to simmer down the butterflies. Something embarrassing happened in the middle of his lecture. She forgot to turn her ringer off, the lyrics to P*$$Y Fairy playing.

Don't be surprised, baby, it's just me (Just me)

Don't be surprised, boy, when I bust it wide

I hypnotize you with this pussy (Pussy)

Now you feel like you can fly—

“Sorry! Sorry…”

Aaliyah silenced her phone and with a sheepish smile she allowed her eyes to roam the class, catching on to a few snickers. She felt heat creeping over her honey skin. Aaliyah bashfully tucked hair behind her ear, and then her sultry gaze connected with Professor Richmond’s.

He had one brow quirked up and his eyes were unblinking and concentrated on her firm. He was the first to slowly pull his eyes away before clearing his throat to finish speaking. That look in his eyes…

After class, Aaliyah approached his desk to drop off an in class assignment. She left her hoodie at her desk. Terry was standing there, propping himself up against his desk with his fingertips. He allowed his eyes to scan her body. She paid attention to the way his piercing eyes fixated on the exposed skin of her midriff. A quick circular motion of his eyes on her breasts caused her to part her lips, the tip of her tongue between her teeth.

“Here?” Aaliyah pointed to the pile of untidy papers.

“Yes.” Terry replied with a slower tone.

She slipped it there, patting the top of it. Terry clenched his jaw, his eyes returning to his laptop.

“Have a good day…”

He couldn’t stop himself from standing at his full height. He exhaled a long breath, his eyes trapping her.

“Yes, Ma’am. You as well.”

Aaliyah gave him one final once over, her eyes doing a double take to the veins in his arms…

Damn…

She walked away, the silence in the lecture hall unnerving. Terry crossed his arms in front of him and rocked back and forth on his heels. He lowered his head and shook it from side to side with a smirk. Aaliyah made her way out of the room, itching to look back and wave, but instead she looked back and gave him one final word.

“Sorry about my ringtone…I know it was inappropriate…”

Terry licked his lips, “Don’t even remember the lyrics.”

They chuckled, Aaliyah finally leaving the class.

——

Stickin' to the code, all these hoes for the streets

I put it in her nose, it's gon' make her pussy leak

Pussy niggas told, ain't gon' wake up out they sleep

You can't hear that switch, but you can hear them niggas scream…

That imposing beat had the house jumping off. Like That lyrics bounced off the walls, hyping up the room full of men that came out to support Mike.

Got your girl in this bitch, she twirlin' on the dick (he was once a thug, he was, he -)

(He was once a thug, he was, he -)

I got syrup in this bitch, turn up in this bitch (he was once a thug, he was, he -)

And it's 'bout the 'Ercs in this bitch, get murked in this bitch (he was once a thug, he was, he -)…

Terry wore an oversized tank top in beige with the sides cut low, giving you a peek at the muscles in his biceps and obliques. He gave himself a fresh line up and moisturized his low curls. Straight fit, light wash jeans hugged his lower half and he wore a pair of crisp, All White’s. Terry bopped his head precisely to the heavy bass, green solo cup in his hand between his lips. The gold Cuban link hanging from his neck matched the gold Cuban chain on his left wrist and the gold band of his Apple Watch on his right wrist.

The front door opened, more handsome black men pouring in and greeting everyone. Terry saluted the ones he recognized and shook hands firmly with those he didn’t. Terry knew the lyrics to Kendrick’s verse word for word. When the ‘Big Three’ line came up, everyone chimed in. Smile on his face, Terry headed towards the kitchen to fill his cup and mingle with some family he hadn’t seen in a while. He couldn’t believe his little cousins were old enough now to attend functions like this.

“This nigga freaked out already!”

One of Terry’s little cousins, Malik, who just turned 21 sucked his teeth at everyone laughing. Terry did notice the way he kept checking the door for the strippers every time it opened.

“They ain’t here yet, nigga!”

Mike entered the kitchen with enthusiasm and shades on. Terry caught the smell of weed on him when he approached his side. Terry picked up his trucker hat to clear some space from the kitchen island for more liquor bottles. A big ass bottle of Hennessy caught Terry’s eye. He was currently sipping on jungle juice.

“Got that shit that turn you into a beast, TJ. Real King Kong shit!” Mike shouted over the loud music.

“I see you came through,” Terry held the neck of the Hennessy bottle firm, veins in his arms popping out.

“We about to see TJ in rare form tonight!”

Terry shook his head at the men surrounding him all agreeing. He refused to let it get to him. He wasn’t the same tall, lanky kid from Red Stick. Wasn’t the same teenager who got picked on in the schoolyard for being too quiet or too nerdy. He was a grown ass man with intellect and vocabulary beyond the slang words and a muscle strength so powerful he could take down an entire room full of wannabe gangstas. But, he didn’t wear that on his sleeve. He remained stoic with his strong and silent presence. Tonight, however, he’d let himself enjoy what was to come. He had his money ready. He just hoped they were deserving of it.

He was a hard man to impress.

“Make yourself a stronger drink, Cousin. We got all night….”

Terry was more of a bourbon guy. But there wasn’t any around and he refused to bring his good shit for everybody to help themselves to. He poured Hennessy into his cup and took a sip. It was cool.

He sauntered towards the spread of party food they had catered. The smells made his mouth water. He grabbed himself a plate and piled fried chicken, smoked turkey greens, gator bites, mac and cheese, and whatever else he could fit. Today was his cheat day.

Terry ate his food while standing, catching bits and pieces of conversation here and there. On one end of the room, a group of men, most likely Mike’s friends, were laughing at whatever was on one of their phones. Across from him in the kitchen, there’s a debate about which they’d prefer: no ass and big titties or a big ass and no titties. Terry snorted. Childish behavior.

Tha Biz-, the Bizness

Uh, I like a long-haired, thick redbone

Open up her legs, then filet mignon that pussy

I'ma get in and on that pussy

If she let me in, I'ma own that pussy…

Terry didn’t care much for the mac and cheese. Too dry and not enough flavor. Every thing else was delicious. He tossed his plate and excused himself to the bathroom. He climbed the stairs to the guest bathroom instead of the basement because he was informed that the basement was reserved for the ladies who plan to entertain them tonight.

He relieved himself and flushed before washing his hands. He checked himself in the mirror making sure he hadn’t stained his new shirt.

“Ladies Ladies Ladies!”

Terry could overhear the commotion downstairs.

“The basement is all yours…hey, Keisha, lookin’ good…nice to meet you…don’t worry, the groom ain’t here right now he went out back…”

That sounded like Mike’s best man and bestfriend, Cliff.

“Take your time ladies…don’t rush the process…we won’t complain TRUST ME…”

Terry left the bathroom and walked down the stairs at the same moment they closed the basement door behind them. His eyes that appeared blue–green in the dim light scanned the room, taking in the eager and impatient looks on the faces of men ready to throw cash.

“Fuck you mean they gotta get ready? Type of shit is this here?” One dude complained.

“They work at Crazy Horse, Bruda, you know how them dancers are.”

“Busted and dusted,” Another replied with a drunk cackle.

Terry held up the wall, cup in hand, tripping off of the conversation.

“Kiesha thick ass can get this anytime, anywhere…but that one that walked in last? Man…”

The man that spoke, short in height with a bald fade and teeth lined with gold caught Terry’s eyes and shook his head as he blew air out his cheeks. Terry smirked into his cup.

“She the truth. I wanna see what she do…”

“She one a ‘dem pretty natural ones…rare.”

That interested Terry. He paid closer attention.

“Probably taste like sugar.”

“Im’a put my tongue in it!”

Cliff cracked the door to the basement. He stuck his head between the opening and shouted down the steps. Terry could hear him communicating with one of the dancers. He shut the door quickly and motioned for his friend to pause the music.

“I’m a grab Mike. It’s about to go down.”

He did the Birdman hand rub as he rushed away to collect the groom. The room started to flood with the others, all too anxious to get a glimpse and participate in the fun. Terry pat his back pocket, feeling the folded stack of cash he’d brought. He had more tucked away in his wallet just in case. Mike entered the room cross–faded. He moved with unsteady legs and a bottle in hand, the contents almost spilling onto the carpet.

Terry grabbed the bottle and sat it down on a table.

“AIGHT! ITS ABOUT TO JUMP OFF YA’LL READY?!!!”

Someone activated the strobe lights and the room flooded with ultraviolet light. The melanin in the room looked a deep blue beneath the black lights. Terry knocked the rest of his drink back and sat his cup down next to the Hennessy bottle Mike was holding. From the corner of his eye, he could see someone carrying a chair out from the dining room. They forced Mike to sit, Terry laughing at his cousin’s goofy smile.

Ear Drummers

Strippers

Mike WiLL Made-It

Bands a make her dance

Bands a make her dance…

The door opened and Terry locked his eyes forward, cupping his mouth and howling along with the others.

——

Aaliyah couldn’t control her indecisive habits if she tried. She’d spent majority of her day into the early afternoon cleaning and now her room looked like a disaster. It was nearing eight and she still couldn’t decide what to wear! Keisha was gonna kill her ass…

Aaliyah flipped through her clear tote filled with old outfits from her stripper days. She was about to give up and settle for a neon green fishnet set until she spotted a bright pink holster top with matching bottoms. There were hot pink fishnets with the back cut out for her ass that she could pair with it. Oh! pink pasties over the nipples would spice it up real nice. Aaliyah remembered her seven inch stiletto heels with rhinestone fringes. Perfect. She quickly grabbed it and worked as fast as she could, glancing at her phone.

So far, Keisha hadn’t called her. Aaliyah slipped off her satin, black robe and flung it over the chair situated in front of her vanity. She already applied her body oil with the aroma of fresh peaches blended perfectly with a hint of the tropics creating this rich, sweet, sultry scent. Her favorite fairy dust body powder clung to her soft skin and glittered in the light like diamonds.

Aaliyah tied the last tight bow on her bottoms before sitting to slip on her heels. She decided to go with a light beat, not wanted to wear anything too heavy and end up sweating it all off. She tapped the screen of her phone and with twenty minutes left, she swooped her edges and sprayed oil sheen over her two, long braids. Her French tip fingers smoothed down as much frizz as she could to keep it neat.

Situated in front of her body length mirror, Aaliyah admired the final look. Lastly, she tugged on a white, bodycon dress with a sway of her hips.

Buzz Buzz…Buzz Buzz…

“Hello?”

“I’m outside. Diamond and Precious is in the back. You ready?”

“Yeah,” Aaliyah grabbed a pair of black, thong flip flops, “heading out now.”

She ended the call and with one final sweep of her room, she turned off the lights and headed straight for the door. Stanley cup in the crease of her arm, she locked her front door. Aaliyah angled her body, descending the stairs carefully. She didn’t want a repeat of what happened a year ago. She sprained her ankle so bad she couldn’t dance for two months.

Kiesha rolled the window down to her Hellcat, smoke billowing out. Aaliyah rolled her eyes. She did not want weed smell lingering on her. Keisha leaned over and opened the door since Aaliyah’s hands were full. She climbed in and shut the door, Keisha not waiting a moment longer before hitting the gas hard. Aaliyah looked over at Keisha with a mug on her face while her friend laughed.

She noticed that she was the only one ready. Aaliyah looked back at Diamond and Precious. Redbone Diamond had her bubble gum pink frontal pinned up while holding a Hello Kitty compact mirror as steady as she could, drawing on her thin eyebrows. She had on a matching camouflage, short set. Aaliyah recognized that set from Fashion Nova. Her eyes moved towards Precious. Precious was a tiny girl. Petite and spunky. She had a buz cut dyed blonde. She was wearing her outfit beneath a tube dress while puffing on a fat blunt. Her eyes squinted at Aaliyah before giving her a toothy grin filled with braces.

“How ya’ll been?” Aaliyah asked.

“Good!” Diamond replied.

“Straight! How ‘bout you?” Precious said.

“Been good. Dealing wit’ school. Good to see ya’ll. Ready for tonight?”

“Can’t wait!”

“Turnt!” Diamond shouted before snapping her mirror shut, “Pass that here…”

Aaliyah relaxed into her seat.

“Girl, you told me to be ready by eight. Why the fuck you ain’t dressed?”

Keisha reached back, accepting the blunt while one–hand whipping the car.

“Cliffy told me we could use the basement if we needed to. I brought all the goods just in case. The coochie spray for Diamond—”

“BITCH don’t get hurt!”

Aaliyah chuckled.

“You got your LED plug?” Keisha asked Aaliyah excitedly.

Aaliyah dragged her upper teeth over her bottom lip with a mischievous smile.

“Nasty bitch….lemme see it.”

Aaliyah leaned her body against the door so her meaty buns could face Keisha. She lifted her white bodycon dress over her cakes and with one hand, she spread one hefty cheek. There, buried in her ass, was the LED plug. It lit up like a pair of sketchers. Keisha giggled.

“Girrrrrlllllllllll I told Cliff about you…”

Aaliyah fixed herself and straightened up in her seat.

“Keisha, don’t set me up with no nigga. No more of that shit.” Aaliyah retorted.

“I didn’t set you up. He remembers you from Crazy Horse. When he used to show up on Tuesdays…”

“Keish, not that nigga…he ugly and his breath stank. You know exactly what to do to piss me off!”

Diamond and Precious cackled in the back seat.

“His dick big.” Keisha replied as if that would change Aaliyah’s mind.

“Bitch, big dick, little dick, a dick made out of the purest gold if phat ma don’t get wet and this heart don’t skip a beat I’m not finna give you my time. That shit is crazy…”

“You shake ass for an ugly nigga though.” Keisha argued back.

“THEY PAYIN’ ME! Girl…” Aaliyah kissed her teeth, fixing her lash extensions because the windows are rolled down, “How far out?”

“Ten minutes.”

They rode in silence the rest of the way while blasting a bounce mix. Keisha’s Hellcat slowed to a stop in front of a cute little house with a lengthy drive way. Kiesha parked on the grass and killed the ignition. She gave the blunt one final hit before tossing it out the window. The ladies exited the car and before the went inside, Keisha had an idea for them to take some pics and video before heading in. Aaliyah acted as photographer and videographer while Diamond, Precious and Keisha did their thing.

When they finished, Keisha begged Aaliyah to do a video. Aaliyah scoped out the area and yanked her dress off, darting to stand next to a white SUV parked haphazardly on the front lawn. Keisha moved her phone in different angles, Aaliyah staring back at her with a hand on the car and her ass moving like a tidal wave.

“Damn, mama…show out!”

Diamond and Precious clapped their hands in time to Aaliyah’s twerking.

“Cool it nah,” Aaliyah shooed them off before putting her dress back on, “You see that?”

The other ladies followed her gaze through the windows of the home. They all gawked at the amount of men throughout that house.

“Dayummmmm…we leaving chubby tonight. Money, money, money!” Diamond said.

This was Aaliyah’s vibe. Although she had a ball at the fire station, nothing compared to a room full of black men. She grinned beautifully and squealed. They grabbed their things and Aaliyah was last to trail behind because she forgot her thong flip flops. Keisha knocked on the door boldly and it opened two seconds later.

It was Cliff.

He hugged Keisha and kissed her cheek. Cliff did the same greeting for Diamond and Precious. However. He held his hand out for Aaliyah. Her sultry eyes flicked to Keisha then back at Cliff. She accepted his hand and he guided her inside softly, his eyes scanning her body.

“Liyah Alllure…mmm, mmm, mmm…”

“Hey you,” Aaliyah titled her head in greeting with a sweet smile.

“Still just as gorgeous…happy you could join us tonight.”

“Happy to be here…”

“Ladies Ladies Ladies!”

Some dude with a skinny frame and a gold grill greeted them. They all said hello, ignoring the men in the room eye–fucking them. Aaliyah could suffocate from their stares alone.

“The basement is all yours…hey, Keisha, lookin’ good…nice to meet you…don’t worry, the groom ain’t here right now he went out back…Take your time ladies…don’t rush the process…we won’t complain TRUST ME…”

Aaliyah remained close behind Precious as they disappeared into the basement. The door shut behind her with a soft click. They entered the finished basement and Aaliyah excused herself to the rest room. She’d been drinking water all day and needed to go before doing a bunch of dancing. Keisha got dressed while Precious and Diamond helped each other out on jewelry. Aaliyah exited the bathroom in just her pink, outfit with rhinestones to match her heels.

“How we goin’ in? One by one or?” Diamond questioned.

She was dressed in neon green. A full body fishnet outfit with black stilettos. Aaliyah was happy she decided on the ensemble she had on.

“One by one. I’m supposed to give the lap dance. After that, ya’ll come out. Simple.” Keisha said.

The intro to Bandz A Make Her Dance started playing.

“That’s me!” Keisha stood up. She was wearing a white cowgirl hat with a fringe bikini set to match and white stilettos. She reminded Aaliyah of Megan The Stallion with her blue hair cascading down her back.

Keisha climbed the stairs and when the door opened, howling and yelling pierced her ears. The other three ladies shared a look with each other and laughed.

“I’m a need some liquor.” Aaliyah said.

——

Terry’s bottom lip sat between his teeth to contain his laughter.

When the first girl entered, going by the name of Keisha, he loved her vibrant personality and spit fire attitude. Keisha had the men in that room foaming at the mouth. She sashayed over to Mike with that brazen attitude and revealing body. Ain’t no way in hell she could fit that white bikini set and that was the point. Terry’s brows rose in surprise at Keisha straddling Mike. Her bountiful curves almost swallowed him while he was in that chair. Big ol’ ass and fat titties. That country thick you got lost in.

Terry grunted when she turned and made that big, fucking ass clap in Mike’s face. His thick brows knitted together and he shared a look with a friend before chuckling. Mike didn’t know what do to. He kept his hands to his sides, grasping the back legs of the chair he was stuck in.

“All that ass, Mike!”

“You better get it in while you can!”

“Suffocate that nigga, Keisha!”

“You good down there groom?” Keisha teased.

Money flew in the air when she plucked her top off. When them titties dropped, Terry’s large hand stuffed into his back pocket. He didn’t make it rain yet, he was waiting for Keisha to do something special. The body was crazy, but where’s the tricks?

“Throw that shit, TJ.” His friend nudged him with his elbow.

Terry ignored him.

Keisha stood up and went down to the floor in front of Mike in a split. She made those twin globes dribble and that was good enough to earn some of his cash. Terry leaned over the back of Mike’s chair and flicked two Benjamin’s on her. He watched it connect with that ass before falling to the floor. Keisha arched forward and spread her cheeks before going into a head stand.

She shook her legs and clicked her heels before dropping into another split.

“THERE YOU GO!”

“Baby going stupid…”

“Buku ass…”

Terry remained close. Keisha’s eyes locked onto him and it was enough to bring her to her feet. Terry held her steady gaze, a smirk teasing his thick lips.

“You a pretty nigga, ain’t you?” Keisha walked up on him with her hands on her hips, “What’s your name?!”

“TJ.” Terry replied.

Keisha pushed her breasts up with her fists in his face.

“Like what you see with those green eyes. A pretty boi like you ain’t used to a woman like me, huh?”

Terry’s tongue grazed his bottom lip and he locked on to the dizzying motion of her fat tits. Bringing his eyes back on her, he displayed a bill and sat it in the crease. Keisha leaned forward and grabbed the money with her teeth.

“Keep impressin’ me and there’s more for you…”

Keisha had to blink out of a trance. Terry had this unspoken power that rendered her speechless. To top it all off, that deep baritone shot straight to her clit.

“Come get this money, baby!”

Keisha pulled herself away from Terry, but not before dragging a hand down his chest. The look in her hazel eyes told him she wanted to do more than give him a lap dance.

She wanted to spin on that dick.

The door pushed open and the next girl to enter had pink hair. She was a cutie.

“I’m Diamond…”

When she turned, Terry looked away.

A BBL. A bad one at that.

He folded his money back up and made his way to where he stood earlier. The other men in the room were probably so used to seeing it that it didn’t even phase them. Terry watched Diamond do her thing. She hit the splits, shook that ass as best she could, but it was boring. Terry filled his cup and just vibed, laughing at the way some of the men in the room went bonkers over her. Even Mike was stuck. Mouth wide and eyes equally wide.

Next came a tiny girl that showed off acrobatic skills and flexibility. Terry had his money out again and he made it rain on her. She made that little booty shake. Keisha was making her way around, grinding and talking shit. Diamond allowed some of the men to grab ass. The three women scoped out Terry and winked at him. He played nice with Diamond and slipped her a crisp bill. With the tiny one named Precious, he tipped more.

“Where’s Liyah?!”

Cliff scanned the room. Another girl?

“There’s more?! Ahhh shit…”

——

Aaliyah watched from the bottom of the stairs as Precious made her entrance. She wrung her hands and exhaled a sigh. She didn’t know what to expect past those doors. Aaliyah applied more gloss and with a shaky hand, she grasped the railing and climbed. They kept the light off to avoid being spotted right away. Aaliyah stared through the crack of the door at Precious working the room.

So many…so many men.

The floor was covered with money.

She allowed her eyes to scan, taking everything in. As her eyes swept past the groom in his chair, she couldn’t see the entire room because of the door, but the sound of Cliff’s voice let her know it was time.

“Where’s Liyah?!”

“Put on her old intro!”

That was Keisha’s voice.

Aaliyah felt her nerves settle. The blacklights and the song reminded her of Crazy Horse. This was her walk out song….

Waka Flocka Ft. Roscoe Dash–No Handz Instrumental.

With one hand Aaliyah pushed open that door and stepped one shaky leg out past the darkness. The ultraviolet light caused her skin to twinkle and the blue hue made the pink she wore pop. She fully came into view, her tongue curled up over her top teeth to tease and those ‘come fuck me eyes’ staring into the faces of horny men with the money she wanted.

She allowed her body to rock to the beat. Aaliyah turned her back on everyone, brought her hands up, and gave them a thunderous applause with that beautiful ass before arching her back. She twerked those honey buns and looked back at it before a lusty smile appeared on her lips. Both hands twirled her braids while she rocked those hips.

Back. Forth. Back. Forth.

Bounce, Bounce, Bounce

*clap clap clap*

Nobody wasted time throwing money. She could work that entire room on her own. Aaliyah got down on her hands and knees, crawling like a jungle cat before turning to show off that LED plug while twerking.

“You see that shit?!”

“Hot damn!”

“Fuck, she’s nice.”

“C’mere pretty lady…”

“Freaky girl!”

That song…she owned it.

She staked her claim on it.

She spread those legs on her back and gyrated, thighs separated and the barely there crotch of her pink bikini covering her meaty pussy lips. She rubbed the money that rained down on her into her pussy and around her breasts. They…were…obsessed.

The way she looked at you, it made you feel like the only man in the world worthy of her attention.

How nasty she talked…

“I better see some thick bulges tonight, boys…”

On her feet, Aaliyah strutted dangerously slow, further into the crowd of men. As her eyes swept, she came across a pair of blue eyes that reminded her of a bottle of Hypnotiq beneath the blacklights. Too familiar…

Holy FUCKING shit…

She tried to mask her surprise but his was so boldly present.

The Professor.

His jaw dropped, eyes widening in disbelief as if a sudden jolt of electricity had coursed through his veins leaving him momentarily stunned. To others, it could seem as if Terry was so overwhelmed with how motherfucking fine Aaliyah is that he couldn’t even function. She knew the real reason. She simmered down her astonishment as best as she could and turning away, focusing on a cute guy with thick locs to his shoulders.

Her heart raced. Panic consumed her.

She had no time to panic.

“Prettiest thang in Louisiana…”

Aaliyah cupped her breasts covered in nipple tape and licked her lips. She could feel Terry’s gaze burning a hole into the side of her face. She was nervous. Oh so nervous. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Everybody was too drunk or too hype to take notice.

all except Professor Richmond. He could see right through her.

What the fuck was he doing here of all places?!

She blended in with her girls and tried her best to shield herself from Terry’s view.

That intensity in his eyes this time around left her shaken up.

Aaliyah pushed herself to perform. The space was too cramped. They scattered to watch her hit a clean split and when she glanced over her shoulder, Terry was right there. Like he appeared out of thin air.

He was standing above her. Towering over her. She had no choice but to look up.

Aaliyah couldn’t hide. She couldn’t if she tried.

“Back up, TJ. I’m tryna see all that…”

He was shoved to the side and Aaliyah felt the rain of money on her while she avoided Terry’s hard eyes zeroed in on her ass. He was so stuck.

Her breath hitched at the way he looked at her. Like he wanted to ravage her.

Her eyes glided down his frame and she loved the way he dressed. He looked delectable.

“Arch that back, bitch…”

“Yeahhhh…”

Aaliyah grabbed her ankles and made each cheek dance on its own. The heavy bass and quick melody of the bounce song compelled her to shake some ass.

The sound of her pulse in her ears drowned out the music. She locked eyes with him again and for once she grew timid. His eyes drank her in and when she lifted one leg up to pop that ass he chewed on that lip and tilted his head to see how that pussy looked from that angle.

You like what you see, huh?

“You got skills baby…Think you can show me more?”

Terry cut his eyes at the men circling Aaliyah.

Things were turning up like a raging storm.

“Pull that pussy part…”

They wanted to see her pussy. Aaliyah giggled and trailed a finger between her legs before rubbing it against one of their noses. They enjoyed that way too much. He tried to suck on that finger but Terry yoked him up by the wrist. The dread head looked at Terry like he was asking for a death wish.

“We don’t touch unless they say so…remember the rules.”

“Let go, nigga. I don’t need you tellin’ me what the fuck to do…”

“Woah, woah, woah…”

Aaliyah used that opportunity to disappear. A prickling sensation shot up her spine. She slipped down into the basement and hid herself within the darkness.

She needed a second.

“Get it together, Liyah…”

Aaliyah picked up a shorty bottle of Paul Masson Peach and took a long swig. She recapped the drink and scrunched her face from the burn. Aaliyah shook out her hands to stop them from trembling. How was she going to show her face in class on Wednesday?

All she would be able to think about was the shock on his face. There was no turning back. Aaliyah drank some more. She needed the liquor to get her through the rest of the night. The door to the basement opened and Keisha appeared. She had a look of concern on her face.

“Li–Li. You okay?”

“I’m fine, Keisha. Go back up. I was just feeling a little queasy that’s all.”

“Some shit was about to pop off. Did they touch you without your consent?”

“It’s cool. I’ll be up…”

“Don’t lie to me Li–Li…”

Aaliyah gave Keisha a reassuring smile.

“No reason to lie, mamas. I’m feeling better,” Aaliyah pushed herself up, “C’mon…”

——

Frozen.

When that door pushed open and she crept out like a sex goddess, he almost spilled his cognac.

Aaliyah?

The small hairs across his arms stood on end. Desire rushed in the moment the initial shock faded.

*clap clap clap*

Gahdamn…

He knew it. He fucking knew it.

That body outta be in a museum. This fine ass woman held a confidence so powerful he could bend at her will.

Terry Richmond sucked in a breath when her eyes connected with his.

He saw the power drain from her like Superman to Kryptonite. Terry’s chest grew tight. She drew in closer, his mouth unhinged. The glitter on her skin and the smell of her sweet fragrance made the big boy between his legs react.

Down boy…

He fought the urge to palm his bulge because it was growing out of his control. He didn’t know where to look first. Those titties sat up round and perfect. That ass was so fat he wanted to sink his teeth in it. Leave his imprint on that thick fucking shit. His eyes still lit up like Miracle on 34th Street from the glow emitting from that asshole.

Freak nasty.

He was speechless. His star pupil is a Stripper.

The biggest plot twist.

Terry wanted her even more. He wanted to tell her that it was going to be okay and she didn’t need to feel embarrassed or afraid. He could sense she was trying to avoid him as she moved around the room.

Terry needed her to know that he liked what he saw.

They weren’t in his classroom. It was okay to free her inhibitions and show him what Liyah Allure is all about. He found her popping ass and talking shit.

“Tip me, daddy…”

“You want it?”

“Don’t just stare at me. Spoil me…”

Honeyed voice as smooth as silk. Terry drew in closer and allowed himself to be consumed by her.

The glitter on her skin looked edible and if he could lick every single fleck off with his tongue he would.

The dip in her spine leading down to a full ass with hips and thighs to match told him she could take it deep and it would be a warm, tight, wet paradise.

He did say he wanted to escape somewhere tropical…

Those two braids would be anchored around his hands while he drilled deep with every goddamn stroke of his fat dick.

Unh…Unh…Unh…

Make her weep on his dick.

Professor…Professor…Don’t stop…

There she was.

Those eyes focused on him again and he saw the hint of shyness.

“I wanna pull that pussy part…”

Something primal and predatory sparked within him. Aaliyah stroked her lower lips with a single finger and shoved that finger against Darrell’s nose.

Darrell tried to take it too far.

Terry was quicker.

He wrapped his large hand around Darrell’s wrist with a vice grip similar to a boa constrictor. He would knock the daylights outta Darrell and leave him slumped over if he so much as put that finger in his mouth.

Darrell was stunned by Terry’s strength and the fact that he couldn’t break free. Weak ass nigga…

She disappeared.

Mike came over to settle down the growing altercation and with a pat on Terry’s back, he walked away in search of Aaliyah. She was nowhere in sight.

Terry waited for about ten minutes and then she resurfaced from the basement with Keisha. She probably needed a moment to gather her thoughts and energy. His presence stumped her.

Aaliyah scanned the room until she found Terry.

She got down on her hands and knees and popped ass in a split. Nobody else in that room mattered. She locked in on him from across the room. Terry sipped his drink and watched her.

“Who wants a private show?!”

Keisha pointed at Terry.

He gave a quick nod of his head. Keisha was about to be let down. He ain’t want nobody but Aaliyah. She was getting the rest of his money tonight. She deserves it and so much more. And when Terry gets his hands on her…

“I’ll take one. But I want her.”

Aaliyah saw the cash in his hand and smiled.

“Only if she ain’t scared.”

Aaliyah couldn’t believe he just said that.

“I get the impression she likes to tease…”

Aaliyah walked up to Terry with a seductive look in her eyes. He held onto her gaze with his money on display.

“Your call, beautiful.”

Aaliyah stared at him for another moment before taking him by the hand and down into the basement.

——

Terry allowed her to guide him. They headed towards the sofas, silence hanging between them. Aaliyah turned fully to face him before Terry took a seat. Without taking his eyes off of her, he placed his cup on the table and settled back into the cushion. Terry spread his thighs and with one hand over the top of the couch, the other smoothed down his left thigh invitingly. Aaliyah dropped her eyes to his lap and with a faint smile, she took a seat where his hand once was.

Aaliyah watched him spread his money out across his other thigh. She parted her glossy lips a fraction, eyeing nothing but one hundred dollar bills. Her eyes lit up. Terry looked up at her with low, lust filled eyes and a sly smirk. He removed his glasses with one hand and folded it against his chest before sitting it on the table, all while staring at her.

She looked at him.

He looked at her.

“…I don’t know what to say…”

Aaliyah’s eyelashes fluttered as she blinked away from him. Terry used his thumb to gently pull her attention back towards him.

“I should be embarrassed right now…”

Terry was trying to keep his composure but her breasts in his face was melting his cool exterior.

“Aaliyah…I don’t want you to feel embarrassed. I’m not judging you…”

She giggled nervously, “maybe not…but this was so unexpected, ya know?”

“Very. How long have you been doing this?”

Aaliyah stared heavenward shyly while deep in thought. He liked seeing her like this. It was another side to her he enjoyed.

“Well…this in particular…it’s my second time. Stripping…I did it for about five years before I quit Crazy Horse a year ago…now I just film content and work Verizon part time.”

Her eyes connected with his again.

“So…what do ya want me to do? A lap dance? What?”

Terry trailed his eyes down her body.

“Do whatever makes you feel comfortable…”

Terry’s hand molded into her back. Aaliyah shivered. The feeling of his hand on her skin was exhilarating.

She stood, facing Terry. He placed his money beside him, and his hands out of the way. Aaliyah straddled him, bracing herself on his shoulders. She looked down at him with a slow blink and the erotic smile she gave him forced his hands into fists.

“Have you ever had a lap dance before, Professor?”

“…Call me Terrence.”

“…Terrence…”

“Once. It wasn’t memorable.” Terry responded with a hushed tone.

He reclined his head back slightly and stared up into her eyes with practiced restraint.

Aaliyah gave him a mean whine over his crotch. Her chest would graze his goatee ever so slightly. He had to stop his tongue from poking out to drag between those titties.

“Ooh, that’s too bad…is this okay?”

That melodic voice…

“You’re doin’ just fine, Miss Aaliyah.”

Terry flexed his fingers. Aaliyah looked down at his hands.

“Can I admit something?” Aaliyah asked with a sultry smile.

“What’s that?”

Aaliyah tucked her chin and giggled softly. She blinked away briefly before her eyes met his again.

“What?” Terry pushed.

“I think about you every day…”

“Enough to stick around after class?”

Aaliyah’s bottom lip sat between her teeth. Terry smiled.

“Why did you turn me down?” He questioned.

Aaliyah dragged her hands down his chest and stilled her hips. Terrence rested his hands on the sides of her thighs. He couldn’t resist. Aaliyah didn’t protest.

The feel of her against his hands. The heft of her on him. The images he pictured in his mind…

“I’m not an easy girl, Terrence. You gotta work harder for me. I wanted you to…”

“Chase you.” Terry concluded with an elevated brow.

“May seem silly but…it turns me on.”

“I wonder what else turns you on…”

“That brain of yours,” Aaliyah trailed her fingers through his short, soft curls, “Your passion…expressive hands…your voice…those eyes…”

Terry licked his lips, “I would have chased you and went along with your lil’ game. If that means I get to play with you in the end…”

His eyes dropped to her lips.

“You do this…tongue bite thing…I like that…” Terry said.

“What else you like?” Aaliyah asked softly, doing exactly what Terry liked. Displaying the tip of her tongue between her teeth. Moving it back and forth…

“Everything about you…you’re so damn sexy…the way you look at me just…Aaliyah, you’re aware of your beauty. That confidence lights a fire under me, baby…”

“I’m baby?”

“Mhm, the prettiest baby…”

Aaliyah played with his Cuban link. Terry’s right thumb stroked the beauty mark below her lip.

Terry groped her thigh with his free hand and glided it up to her waist. He used his thumb to trace circles into her soft skin.

“I don’t like how you put your finger on Darrell’s nose.”

“You wish it were you? Darrell didn’t get a lap dance…”

Aaliyah lifted from his lap and turned so that she was grinding against his tent with enough pressure to rub her pussy over it. The hard bulge against her fat, lower lips caused her to moan.

Terry threw money over her, his ears enjoying the way her moans sounded so angelic despite her naughty actions.

After all, she is The Dark Angel.

“Aaliyah…”

That signature look back would have had him busting a fat ass nut in his jeans.

The way she moved her hips on him.

“I want you so fuckin’ bad…”

“I know.”

She smiled.

Aaliyah stood from his lap and Terry groaned deep.

“Times up.”

He glared at her with lust and frustration. Aaliyah leaned over him with her hands on the back of the couch. Their eyes connected and her glossy lips feathered over his.

“Until next time…I think I’m free for that lunch on Wednesday…”

She brought her lips to his cheek and with her jeweled tongue, Aaliyah dragged it over his ear tantalizingly slow. She pushed away from him and Terry stood from the couch. He fixed his attire while Aaliyah stared up at him with faux innocence and her hands crossed behind her back. She swayed back and forth, parting her lips to rest her tongue in the corner of her mouth.

“It’s a date.”

@theereina @bombshellbre95 @planetblaque @trippyscotch @megamindsecretlair @uzumaki-rebellion @thesweetestdrug @theblulife @hotgrlcece @blackerthings @deja-r @helloncrocs @hearteyes-for-killmonger @kaylabuggggg06 @skyesthebomb @blyffe @gwenda-fav @beenathembo @blackpinup22 @novaniskye @melaninhawtie @urfavblackbimbo @avoidthings @rose-bliss @xo-goldengirl @kinginwithbreezy-blog @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @sirenmouths @creartivefairy @soulfulbeauty19 @therealmrsrhodes @hrlzy @nayaesworld @gg-trini @brattyfics @flydotty @writingsbytee @shiania @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @madamzola @kismet83 @aristasworld @sl33p-deprived-princess @erynnnn @itssbrie @melaninangel @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @sweettea-and-honeybutter

[annievrse]

my diamond

duke!sukuna x spinster!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic w/c: 1k a/n: bridgerton!au!!!!! (everyone cheers)

"—the duke has arrived—"

"—i don't look half good enough for him tonight—"

"—i hear he's looking for a duchess!"—"

"—you must make haste, he won't be here for long—"

the ballroom erupts in a cacophony, but you stand against the wall with a glass of lemonade, rolling your eyes at the dramatics. being in your early twenties and already deemed a spinster by many mamas in the ton, you're grateful you're past your debutant years when men triple your age regard you with the same respect they'd give a stack of hay.

"finally found you," shoko stumbles into you, almost sloshing her drink onto your gown. you pay no mind to her, keeping your eyes trained on the crowd surrounding the entrance. "mr gojo wouldn't stop putting grapes into my glass. i was going to have to give him a facer if he didn't stop."

you tilt your head to look at her. "how's promenading with mr gojo?"

shoko rolls her eyes. "dreadful. all he speaks of is himself and his nightly activities at the gentleman's club."

you smile and shake your head, sipping your drink. the music cut off at the duke's arrival resumed, and couples began dancing again.

"—he looked at me—" a young woman gloats to her friend as they pass.

"ugh," you groan, glancing at shoko, who's trying to hide the empty dance card on her wrist. "i can't believe this," you mumble, face in a scowl.

"can't believe what?"

you turn to face her. "these girls tripping over themselves for a man! a man, shoko."

the brunette nods to whatever you're saying, though she pays no attention. "he's most likely more gentlemanly than mr gojo—"

"—he's most likely," you cut in. "an old, egotistic, unsightly rake who wants nothing more than a young lady to put his rotting, wrinkly—"

shoko stifles a sudden giggle before you, her hand covering her mouth.

"what?" you snap, gaze narrowed at your best friend.

shoko merely points behind you, her face slack at seeing something you cannot.

so, you turn. your line of sight is hindered by a navy coat, and as your eyes adjust, you realise it is, in fact, attached to a man. you peer at the ground as you lower to a curtsy. "my lord."

"good evening, miss."

shoko takes the cup from your hands before she leaves, sparing you no support. your eyes follow her retreating figure, your face hot and your hands shaking in embarrassment.

"i apologise greatly, my lord—" you finally tilt your head up, but the sight that welcomes you isn't one you'd expected.

the man is tall, taller than the other men of the ton. his skin is like porcelain, his eyes a deep shade of brown, and his cheeks are tinted a shade of pink, and, you squint slightly, so is his hair.

"i hope you do not mind the intrusion," the man says, snapping you out of your daze. "i was simply going to ask what could have gotten a young woman, such as yourself, so riled up?"

your mouth opens and closes like a fish, something your mama had taught you to never do in the presence of royalty or a man. the man chuckles at your stunned countenance but waits patiently until you collect yourself.

"i was simply describing the duke who had arrived just before, my lord," you say once you have composed yourself. "it is a known fact here that such men are of the sort."

"indeed," he mumbles, a hint of laughter in his response. "however, this duke is nothing of the sort."

your eyebrows raise and you nod along. "so, you've seen him then?"

"seen him? i know him personally."

you nod, smoothing out your skirts. "right."

"i can give you an introduction if you would like?"

you sigh. "i am terribly busy, you see," throwing your thumb over your shoulder. "spinster responsibilities."

the man's eyebrows jumped. "oh, so you're unmarried and unwilling to partake in such a thing?"

shaking your head, you scoff, earning a few glances from others around you. "two and twenty is barely old enough to be considered a spinster, my lord, but my mama insists it is appropriate, and who am i to be doubtful of her wisdom?"

"right," he mutters, the corner of his lips upturning at the sight of yours doing the same. "so, i shouldn't introduce a diamond, such as yourself, to the egotistic and unsightly duke?"

your cheeks burn with the humiliation of your previous words. "i accept the offer, but only because you are incredibly persuasive, my lord."

the man winks, but remains where he is stood. you clasp your hands before you, waiting for him to lead the way.

moments pass, and you notice debutants and mamas alike watching the pair of you stand in complete silence. you wonder what could be so exciting that the ton stands and stares at you—a topic of gossip that never seems to leave their minds.

growing increasingly uncomfortable, you peer up at the man.

"so, when is this introduction taking place?" you ask, voice meek.

"right now," he smiles, his brown eyes twinkling with mischief. and with fear, you realise your mistake.

you curse under your breath and curtsy.

"stand up," the duke laughs, and you can't help but giggle nervously with him. "it took you long enough to realise."

now you know why the ton was staring at you so intently—it wasn't you they were staring at.

"excuse me for being so naive," you swipe the back of your hand across your forehead, trying to ignore how his gaze caresses your collarbone.

"never mind that," he waves his hand in dismissal. "so, what's the final verdict? my diamond?" he teases, stretching his arms out.

"uh—" you pause, taking your time running your eyes over every inch of him. "definitely not unsightly."

he nods once, his lips pulled into a devilish grin. "i'm pleased."

and then he leans down and takes your hand in his. his palm is larger than yours, and you notice his grip is firmer and more sure than any man who'd held your fingers before. the look he gives you through his lashes is one you'll never forget.

"duke of st. john," he says against your hand before pressing his lips delicately against the silk fabric of your gloves. "but you can call me ryomen."

[p0orbaby]

Official Business

summary: who doesn’t like a bit of shopping?

warnings: nowt

a/n: could never be me. firstly im not rich enough, and secondly im terrible at keeping secrets

word count: 1.3k

-

It starts as a bit of a lark.

You’re bored one evening, halfway through a bottle of vintage Château Margaux that costs more than the average person’s yearly salary. You’re flipping through channels, skipping past the usual array of aristocrats grumbling about the decline of society, when you land on the Arsenal match. Leah’s there, of course, and you watch as she commands the field like a general leading her troops into battle. You’ve always admired that about her—how she seems so in control, so sure of herself, even when everything around her is pure chaos. You’re about three glasses deep when you think, I could buy this whole damn club.

It’s one of those ridiculous ideas that’s supposed to stay in your head, but a few phone calls and a meeting with some old schoolmates who now dabble in sports management, and suddenly, the idea isn’t so ridiculous anymore.

Suddenly, it’s very, very real.

You start sending emails and making secret trips to boardrooms filled with men who look like they’ve never kicked a ball in their lives, discussing terms and shares and God knows what else. The whole thing is absurd, like some kind of billionaire’s midlife crisis.

You manage to keep it all hush-hush because, really, who would ever suspect you? Leah certainly doesn’t. She knows you’re filthy rich, of course, but she’s under the impression you spend most of your time doing rich-people things, like attending charity galas and organising your pearl collection. She has no idea that in between afternoon tea and polo practice, you’re negotiating the purchase of her football club.

Which is exactly why, when you bump into her at Colney after one particularly mundane meeting, you nearly have a heart attack.

You’re not supposed to be here. You don’t belong in places like this—places that smell like sweat and ambition. But you’re here anyway because some idiot on the board thought it would be a good idea for you to meet the coaching staff, and now you’re walking out of the building, trying to look like you belong, when suddenly your very beautiful, very oblivious girlfriend is in front of you.

She looks at you with that familiar pairing of amusement and affection, like she’s not entirely sure what you’re doing, but she finds it endearing nonetheless. “What are you doing here?” she asks, and you can hear the smirk in her voice.

“Oh, you know, just... supporting the team,” you reply, which is technically true, though not in the way she thinks.

“Supporting the team?” Leah repeats, raising an eyebrow. She’s in her training gear, hair pulled back into a ponytail, and you can see the faint sheen of sweat on her forehead. You’re suddenly aware of how out of place you look in your tailored coat and Louboutins.

“Yes, well,” you stammer, trying to think of a plausible excuse. “I thought I’d drop by, see how things are going. Very exciting, all this football business”

“Football business?” She laughs, and it’s the kind of laugh that makes you want to crawl into a hole and die because you know how silly you sound. “Right. Sure. You’ve been keeping up with the league standings, then?”

“Of course,” you lie. You have no idea where they are in the table. You just know that you’re about to own them, which seems more important.

Leah just shakes her head, clearly amused, and you think you’re in the clear. But then she asks, “Who were you meeting with? Looked serious”

Your heart skips a beat. “Oh, just some... business people. Nothing important.” You wave a hand dismissively, but Leah’s eyes narrow.

“Business people? At the training ground?”

“Yes, well, they’re... sponsors,” you say quickly. “Potential sponsors. Big money, you know. Thought I’d try to drum up some support”

Leah tilts her head, scrutinising you like she’s trying to figure out what’s really going on. You can practically feel the sweat dripping down your back, which is just great because this coat is dry clean only.

But then she just shrugs. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?” she says, before leaning in to kiss your cheek. “But I’m glad you’re here”

And with that, she jogs off, leaving you standing there, heart racing and wondering how the hell you’re going to keep this secret from her.

-

The next few days are a blur of increasingly absurd attempts to keep Leah from finding out what you’re up to.

You start volunteering more information about Arsenal than she ever asked for, throwing around terms like “4-3-3 formation” and “high press” as if you actually know what they mean. Leah just smiles and nods, probably thinking you’ve become some kind of obsessive superfan overnight.

You even go so far as to attend a match, sitting in the executive box and pretending you’re just there to enjoy the game when in reality, you’re mentally calculating how much it’ll cost to replace the outdated lighting in the concourse.

It all comes to a head one evening when you’re lounging on the sofa, pretending to read a book but actually trying to figure out how to sneak away for yet another clandestine meeting. Leah’s sitting across from you, scrolling through something on her phone. She’s been giving you these looks lately, suspicious, narrowed eyes like she’s trying to figure you out. It’s unnerving.

Finally, she puts down her phone and looks at you. “Okay, what’s going on?”

You feign innocence. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been acting weird,” she says bluntly. “Like, really weird. You suddenly know everything about Arsenal, you’re at London Colney talking to ‘business people,’ and now you’re going to matches? You hate crowds”

You open your mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. She’s got you there.

Leah crosses her arms, leaning back in her chair with that look she gets when she’s about to win an argument. “So, spill. What’s going on?”

You consider your options. You could keep lying, but at this point, it feels like you’re trapped in a comedy of errors, and the only way out is to just come clean.

Taking a deep breath, you say, “Okay, fine. I’m buying Arsenal”

Leah blinks at you. Then she blinks again. “What?”

“I’m buying Arsenal,” you repeat, as if saying it again will make it any less ridiculous. “The football club”

She just stares at you, mouth slightly open. For a moment, you think she might laugh, but then she just says, “You’re serious”

“Yes”

“You’re buying a football club”

“Yes”

“Arsenal”

“Yes”

She shakes her head slowly, like she’s trying to wrap her mind around it. “Why?”

“Because I can,” you say, which is the truth, but also probably not the best answer you could have given.

Leah finally laughs, but it’s that slightly hysterical laugh people do when they don’t know how else to react. “You’re insane. Do you know that? You’re absolutely insane”

“Probably,” you agree.

She stands up, pacing the room as if moving will help her process this information. “So all this time, all those meetings, that’s what you were doing? Buying a football club?”

“Yes”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” you say, which is technically true, though you didn’t exactly think this far ahead.

Leah stops pacing and looks at you, hands on her hips. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I’m aware”

There’s a long pause, and you wonder if she’s going to be mad or just collapse from shock. But then she walks over to you, a grin slowly spreading across her face. “Well, I guess I should start calling you ‘boss,’ then”

You laugh, relieved that she’s taking it in stride. “Only if you want to. I was thinking more along the lines of ‘supreme overlord of all things football’”

Leah snorts. “Don’t push it”

You grin, and she leans down to kiss you, still shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable,” she murmurs against your lips.

“So I’ve been told,” you reply, pulling her closer.

[romana-after-dark]

Dirty Old Man

Dark!Old Man!Logan x fem!reader

Main Masterlist : Logan Masterlist

Follow @romana-updates and click follow, join my tumblr community or ask to join the tag list to keep up!

Buy Me A Coffee : Kofi : Go Fund Me

Summary: Logan is your driver, and one day he gets tired of keeping his hands to himself. Logan's POV.

Warnings: NON CON! DDDNE!!!!! Alcohol consumption, breeding kink but reader is on birth control. slapping. big, girthy, throbbing, rock hard age gap. crying, dirty talk. Absolutely wild slut shaming and misogyny in Logan's head. Seriously yall he's bad here. Theres nothing redeeming about him.

1.5 K words

Minors DNI, DEAD DOVE!!!

Support writers and artists, reblog and leave comments

He’d been watching you for longer than you realized.

Logan was used to taking odd jobs, having just enough to get by and when he tires of one place or another, he quits and finds somewhere else. But this right here? Yeah, he was sticking around for a bit.

You were a stupid little thing, silly and bubble head with a great pair of tits and a niave view of the world. He was your driver, taking you all around the streets of New York, anywhere from fancy gala’s to Sex and the City style luncheons -wait no it’s called brunch-, Sex and the City style brunches, to sleepovers with friends. Every time you hoped in the pretentious car, you slid in the back with a hello, and hopped out with a goodbye and a thank you. Today was no different.

A little crisp out for such a small dress, don’t you think?

Fall was coming, even if it grew later and later every year for the leaves to turn yellow and the wind to cool around you. Still, it never stopped dumb girls like you from dressing in the skimpiest little things, just tempting nasty old men like him, testing, teasing, until there was a consequence. You really needed to learn a lesson, didn’t you? One by one, Logan dropped off your slutty little friends, all dressed in an aray of orange and red and black and all the fall colors that were fashionable for bimbo’s like them to pay attention to. This wasn’t all your friend he’d driven to the club, some of them probably went off to get railed by some horny college student who just had to compliment them once or twice and they were sliding their underwear to the side.

You weren’t like them. You were wearing white, as pure as the day you were born, your sweet little head too filled up with thoughts of sunshine and flowers to be someone who’d let a man touch you like that. That’s why Logan wasn’t going to be ‘let’, he was going to take.

Drunk like your father every evening trying to drown out your nagging mother, you babbled on about the evening to him after your last friend left, filling him in on all the innocent fun you had at the club. You weren’t like the others, you didn’t grind on men or kiss your friends for attention or snort coke, you were happy with a several drinks and a good time.

“Back home, bub?” He asks you, looking through the rearview mirror.

“Yes, please, Mr. Smith.” You replied with his alias. He wanted to make you scream Logan, Logan, Logan. A pause. “Where are we?”

Logan had pulled into an empty alley, smirking at the knit of your eyebrows in confusion. “Gotta check the back tire, bub. Seems off.”

You were too drunk and stupid to question him. Naive girl, so trusting. He went to the back right tire, near wear you sat, and bent over pretending to look, knowing you well enough to know you’d open the door and peek out.

“Wha- *hiccup* what is it, Mr. Smiff?” 

He chuckles at you slurring his faux name. 

“You can just call me Logan, kid, I told yuh that.” Logan stands, bracing his arm over the car frame, leaning over you. “Everything, I’m afraid.”

You blink up at him in confusion. “Everything?”

“Yeah baby, looks like we’re gonna have to kill some time.” He makes his move, pushing you onto the leather seats and shoving you down. For a moment, you don’t struggle, just a yelp of surprise but Logan can see the realization of what's happening dawn in your eyes. Then, you slap him.

“Big mistake, kid.” Two slaps, one after the other in quick succession, are delivered to your sweet face, letting you know that however you fight, you’ll be punished. “Won’t help yuh to fight, sweetcheeks, only gonna make it worse.” He watches the tears well up in your eyes, your pretty lip quivering, but you don’t fight. You give in. He chuckles. “Well that was easy.”

Logan spreads your legs, grinding his clothed erection over your white underwear, making you whimper. “P-please don’t… I’m sorry, I-I I don’t-”

“Shhhhh, princess…” Logan wipes a tear from your face, nuzzling his beard against your neck. “Just be good for me, this will all be over soon, okay? But be that sweet girl I know you are.”

A dizzy, tired ‘okay’ and Logan leaned back to undo his pants where his crisp white shirt was tucked in. As expected, you simply stayed laid back and didn’t fight or try to get away. Such a good girl. “Take your panties off for me.”

You shake your head. “Don’t make me…”

All he had to do was narrow his eyes at you and you were scrambling to do as he said, making you complicite. 

“See? I knew you wanted this.”

Sliding into you was heaven, feeling you clench around him in fear, the tension of your body manifesting in squeezing him cock even as you got wet around him. He was your first, he knew that. Inside himself, he knew that, even if you hadn’t said. Because of course you hadn’t? Who would share that with her driver?

“Fuck princess, look at you…” Logan grunted as he began to thrust, watching your tits in that braless dress bounce. “Taking this old man cock so good, aren’t’cha? Yeah, just look at you…” He grabbed your hair harshly, yanking you up so you were bent over. You scream in pain, but quickly quiet yourself with little sobs instead as he forces you to watch him violating you, entering and withdrawing and entering again until he lets go, letting you flop back once more.

Logan’s cock slams inside you, and Logan bets you can feel him inside you, feel him prodigy at your womb, ready to be bred like a good girl like your deserves. 

“Are you on birth control?”

“Y-yes” You cry, covering your face in embarrassment. Are you lying? No, no he can see the little rod in your arm. He grab your tender flesh, and you cry out briefly again as he feels the stupid fucking implant in you, thumbing over it as he growls in frustration. He wanted to get you knocked up, make sure you were the stupid girl who got herself pregnant after he ditched town, but there was nothing he could do about it now. 

He gropes your tits through the dress, slapping at the side to make you yelp before moving on downward. You were awfully wet for someone who was crying. 

“Poor girl… is the mean old man taking your virginity? I know, I know, I’m the worst.” He swirls a finger over your slicked up clit, making your body jolt. “Fuck, such a sensative girl around you. Been years since I fucked someone so sweet and innocent, you’re -fuuuuuck, princess- you’re every dirty old man’s dream, you know that?”

He felt your cunt tighten at that, and he barks a laugh. “Ha! Don’t think I didn’t feel that, sweet cheeks. That make you hot? You like knowing old creeps think of our naked body while fisting their cocks?”

You cover your face. “No!”

“Princess, don’t fucking lie to me. Come on.” Logan touched your body, knowing he could bring you pleasure, wanting to feel your first orgasm gushing on his cock. “Give it to me, come on this old man cock, be the dirty whore I know you wanna be.” 

Your cry into your hands as your body betrays you, orgasming hard enough it pulled his own climax out of him. Even though he knew you wouldn’t get pregnant, Logan loved knowing that he was pumping load after load of his hot seed into your virgin pussy, knowing it would leak out of your for days. Morning after morning you wake up to his cum sliding out of your, reminding you that you’re nothing but a dirty old man's whore.

The whole ride to your penthouse, you laid in the back of the car, never moving from where he left you. When Logan pulled up to the building, he put his arm on the other backrest, looking down at you. “You tell anyone about this,” He let his claws fly out of his fisted hand. You could only flinch, your eyes drooping heavily. “I’ll end you, and whoever you tell. Got it?” Logan waits until you nod. “Good. Now get the fuck out of my car.”

Later…

You lay in bed, staring at your phone though the tears in your eyes. A shower couldn’t wash off the feeling of him in and on you, so you just gave up, stumbling into bed with your most comfortable clothes.

Your screen showed a message your forgot to respond to before getting drunk.

Remy Boo <3: Bon soir, cher. Text me when you’re home so I know you’re safe.

 You couldn’t tell him. Logan said he’d kill you and whoever you told… but if you didn’t respond, Remy would pull up to the penthouse and check on you. You did give him a key, and you owed him a response. He was your boyfriend, after all.

You: I’m home!!!! Had a great night with the girls. Im tired. Ttyl.

*************

Thanks so so so much for reading!!!! I might do a part 2 IDK. I kinda wanna see remy finding out what happened and that it was logan of all people.

If you like dark logan, check out my masterlist!

Our Gentle Sins is my logan series rn! I also wrote a lot of joel miller if thats your thing!!!!

Every single like, reblog, and comment means the world o me!

if you want to be tagged in my dark logan, check out my tag list!

If you want more logan bt not dark, check out @romanarose for my normal stuff.

@del-ightfulling @miraclesabound @oldloganslittleslut @shybluebirdninja @hornystan

[16woodsequ]

100 Asexual Books Rec List

For this list the goal is fiction books with a main character or significant secondary character that is on the Asexual spectrum, or non-fiction books about being Aspec.

Junior Novels

1. Rick by Alex Gino An eleven year old boy starting middle school begins discovering his asexuality admist the school's rainbow spectrum club. Also features transgender and crossdressing side characters, as well as a LGBTQIAP+ supporting cast.

2. Sal & Gabi Break the Universe by Carlos Alberto Pablo Hernandez In order to heal after his mother's death, Sal learned how to meditate. But no one expected him to be able to take it further and 'relax' things into existence. Turns out he can reach into time and space to retrieve things from other universes. Asexual Sal.

3. Hazel's Theory of Evolution by Lisa Jenn Bigelow Hazel knows a lot about the world. But even Hazel doesn't have answers for the questions awaiting her as she enters eighth grade. What if no one at her new school gets her, and she doesn't make any friends? What's going to happen to one of her moms, who's pregnant again after having two miscarriages? Why does everything have to change when life was already perfectly fine? Hazel (main character) is asexual and aromantic (it isn't said in the book, but it is specified in the author's note at the back of the book).

4. The Trouble with Robots by Michelle Mohrweis Evelyn strives for excellence. Allie couldn't care less. Together, these polar opposites must work together if they have any hope of saving their school's robotics program. Allie is asexual and/or aromantic. Junior graphic novel.

5. This is Our Rainbow by Editors Katherine Locke and Nicole Melleby Featuring contributions from Eric Bell, Katherine Locke and A.J. Sass, this first LGBTQA+ anthology for middle-grade readers presents stories of queer fantasy, historical and contemporary stories for every letter of the acronym.

6. Every Bird a Prince by Jenn Reese After she saves the life of a bird prince and becomes their champion, seventh grader Eren Evers must defend a forest kingdom, save her mom, and keep the friendships she holds dear--if she is brave enough to embrace her inner truths. Eren is aromantic (and I'm guessing asexual, though that isn't discussed).

YA Fiction

7. When Villains Rise by Rebecca Schaeffer With her best friend, Kovit's, life in danger, Nita is determined to take down the black market once and for all. Latina asexual and aromantic main character (Nita).

8. The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzi Lee Henry "Monty" Montague was bred to be a gentleman. His passions for gambling halls, late nights spent with a bottle of spirits, or waking up in the arms of women or men, have earned the disapproval of his father. His quest for pleasures and vices have led to one last hedonistic hurrah as Monty, his best friend and crush Percy, and Monty's sister Felicity begin a Grand Tour of Europe. When a reckless decision turns their trip abroad into a harrowing manhunt, it calls into question everything Monty knows, including his relationship with the boy he adores. Aro/ace secondary character (prequel to a Lady's Guide to Petticoats and Piracy).

9. The Lady's Guide to Petticoats and Piracy by Mackenzi Lee A year after an accidentally whirlwind grand tour with her brother Monty, Felicity Montague has returned to England with two goals in mind—avoid the marriage proposal of a lovestruck suitor from Edinburgh and enroll in medical school. A highly loved book in regards to asexual portrayal, Felicity’s journey does a fantastic job of exploring the struggle of navigating a world where marriage is expected of women in order to function in society. Even more refreshing is Felicity isn’t just avoiding getting married out of a sole rebellion against the patriarchy (though those themes are also present), but simply because she doesn’t have an interest in sexual or romantic relationships at all.

10. Silver in the Mist by Emily Victoria Asexual Devlin has grown up in the shadow of her mother’s impressive spy network—and the shadow of the kingdom, too. A magical mist is eating away at their borders, weakening their magic and making them vulnerable to attacks. Devlin is tasked with infiltrating the royal court of the wealthier neighboring kingdom, but when she befriends their most powerful magic wielder, she discovers an ancient mystery that may hold the key to defeating the mists for good. Victoria prioritizes strong friendships between queer characters and an examination of wealth disparity in this fantasy full of twists and turns.

11. Not Good for Maidens by Tori Bovalino Beneath the streets of York, the goblin market calls to the Wickett women-the family of witches that tends to its victims. For generations, they have defended the old cobblestone streets with their magic. Knowing the dangers, they never entered the market-until May Wickett fell for a goblin girl, accepted her invitation, and became inextricably tied to the world her family tried to protect her from. Told through dual narratives in different timelines, the book essentially has two protagonists: Lou and May. Between these two characters, we have some great queer representation for both asexuality and bisexuality.

12. A Snake Falls to Earth by Darcie Little Badger Themes of magic, family, asexuality, and traditional storytelling dominate in Lipan Apache author Darcie Little Badger's delightful and uplifting second YA novel. A Lipan girl named Nina collides with Oli who is from the land of spirits and monsters. But some people will do anything to keep them apart. This is a wholesome, elegantly written read guaranteed to warm your heart! 

13. Arden Grey by Ray Stoeve Arden Grey is a novel about different kinds of abusive relationships, as well as the strength of family and friendships. Following her parents' separation, Arden is depressed and coming to accept herself as being on the asexual spectrum.

14. It Sounds Like This by Anna Meriano Yasm Trevi didn't have much of a freshman year thanks to Hurricane Humphrey, but she's ready to take sophomore year by storm. That means mastering the marching side of marching band--fast!--so she can outshine her BFF Sofia as top of the flute section, earn first chair, and impress both her future college admission boards and her comfortably unattainable drum major crush Gilberto Reyes. But Yasm steps off on the wrong foot when she reports an anonymous gossip Instagram account harassing new band members and accidentally gets the entire low brass section suspended from extracurriculars. Rep: Biracial Latina fat asexual-questioning cis female MC, Jewish gray-aromantic gray-asexual male side character with ADHD and APD.

15. One for All by Lillie Lainoff In 1655 sixteen-year-old Tania is the daughter of a retired musketeer, but she is afflicted with extreme vertigo and subject to frequent falls; when her father is murdered she finds that he has arranged for her to attend Madame de Treville's newly formed Acadaemie des Mariées in Paris, which, it turns out, is less a school for would-be wives, than a fencing academy for girls--and so Tania begins her training to be a new kind of musketeer, and to get revenge for her father. Rep: disability, asexuality, sapphic side characters, POTS and PTSD.

16. The State of Us by Shaun David Hutchinson When Dean Arnault’s mother decided to run for president, it wasn’t a surprise to anyone, least of all her son. But still that doesn’t mean Dean wants to be part of the public spectacle that is the race for the White House—at least not until he meets Dre. The only problem is that Dre Rosario’s on the opposition; he’s the son of the Democratic nominee. In a moment of solidarity and high emotions, Dean tells Dre that he has been questioning his sexual orientation. He isn’t sure if he’s asexual or demisexual. Dre puts a messaging app on Dean’s phone so they can stay in touch.

17. Scavenge the Stars by Tara Sim When Amaya rescues a mysterious stranger from drowning, she fears her rash actions have earned her a longer sentence on the debtor ship where she’s been held captive for years. Instead, the man she saved offers her unimaginable riches and a new identity, setting Amaya on a perilous course through the coastal city-state of Moray, where old-world opulence and desperate gamblers collide. Amaya wants one thing: revenge against the man who ruined her family and stole the life she once had. Desi, demisexual female protagonist. 

18. Camp by Lev AC Rosen It’s Randy’s fifth year at Camp Outland, a camp where queer teens get a chance to be themselves. Hoping to win over Hudson’s heart—who’s masc and straight passing and only seems to date other guys like himself—Randy has spent the past year reinventing himself: workout regimen, new haircut, new carefully curated wardrobe. His friends and camp counsellor all think it’s a terrible idea, but what can they do but support him anyways?

19. Little Thieves by Margaret Owen Once upon a time, the daughter of death and fortune was a teenage girl and she was the worst. Little Thieves is, as the dedication says, for the gremlin girls, never has there been a more gremlin girl than Vanja Schmidt. A brilliant and brazen swindler, Vanja could give Kaz Brekker a run for his money. But Vanja has bigger fish to fry. As her body rapidly turns into the gemstones she craves, Vanja must put things right and face her greed head on all while juggling her engagement to a terrible margrave, an investigator with his own magic, and the princess whose face she stole. Vanja’s relationship with junior prefect Emeric could not be more demisexual if it tried, with both sides of the romance experiencing asexual spectrum existence in different and complimentary ways. One part Germanic fairytale, one part ensemble heist, Little Thieves is an unhinged romp of a book.

20. Everyone Hates Kelsie Miller by Meredith Ireland Rom-coms and the asexuality spectrum...two great things that go great together. Kelsie and Eric have been competing against each other their whole lives. But desperation forces them to work together. Kelsie’s best friend stopped talking to her and Eric wants to rekindle his relationship with his ex-girlfriend, and since both will be at UPenn at the same time, Eric and Kelsie decide to go on a road trip together. Sparks fly.

21. You Don't Have a Shot by Racquel Marie Valentina "Vale" Castillo-Green's life revolves around soccer. Her friends, her future, and her father's intense expectations are all wrapped up in the beautiful game. But after she incites a fight during playoffs with her long-time rival, Leticia Ortiz, everything she's been working toward seems to disappear. Queer asexual biracial (Colombian, Irish) protagonist.

22. Foul Lady Fortune by Chloe Gong In 1931 Shanghai, two Nationalist spies pose as a married couple to investigate a series of brutal murders causing unrest in the city. Rep: demisexual Chinese protagonist, bisexual Chinese protagonist, bisexual Chinese main character, Chinese trans woman main character, aromantic asexual side character; (Chinese-Kiwi author).

23. The Spy with the Red Ballon by Katherine Locke Siblings Ilse and Wolf hide a deep secret in their blood: with it, they can work magic. And the government just found out. Blackmailed into service during World War II, Ilse lends her magic to America’s newest weapon, the atom bomb, while Wolf goes behind enemy lines to sabotage Germany’s nuclear program. It’s a dangerous mission, but if Hitler were to create the bomb first, the results would be catastrophic. Gay demisexual Jewish protagonist.

24. Beneath the Citadel by Destiny Soria Cassa, the orphaned daughter of rebels, and friends Alys, Evander, and Newt, fight back against the high council of Eldra, which has ruled for centuries based solely on ancient prophesies. Alys, an apothecary-in-training and the level-headed one of the crew. She identifies as asexual.

25. Eliza and Her Monsters by Francesca Zappia Eighteen-year-old Eliza Mirk is the anonymous creator of the wildly popular webcomic Monstrous Sea, but when a new boy at school tempts her to live a life offline, everything she's worked for begins to crumble. Asexual main character, not explicitly stated in the book.

26. Technically, You Started It by Lana Wood Johnson When a guy named Martin Nathaniel Munroe II texts you, it should be obvious who you're talking to. Except there's two of them (it's a long story), and Haley thinks she's talking to the one she doesn't hate. Demisexual main character.

27. Now Entering Addamsville by Francesca Zappia Zora Novak is framed for a crime she didn't commit--in a town obsessed with ghosts, will she be able to find the culprit and clear her name before it's too late? It's a brief mention, but Zora is ace.

28. Fully Disclosure by Camryn Garrett In a community that isn’t always understanding, an HIV-positive teen must navigate fear, disclosure, and radical self-acceptance when she falls in love–and lust–for the first time. One of Simone’s best friends in the book, Claudia, is an asexual lesbian. The unwavering support she gives to Simone is heartwarming, and she is also openly sex-positive—which flips the script on its head regarding what most people would assume of asexual people.

30. The Art of Saving the World by Corinne Duyvis When Hazel Stanczak was born, an interdimensional rift tore open near her family’s home, which prompted immediate government attention. They soon learned that if Hazel strayed too far, the rift would become volatile and fling things from other dimensions onto their front lawn—or it could swallow up their whole town. Hazel Stanczak identifies as asexual, though she spends time in the book questioning it. The book presents a unique way to show that there is not one single way to be asexual—that it exists on a spectrum and can look different for each person.

31. Let's Talk About Love by Claire Kann Alice had her whole summer planned. Non-stop all-you-can-eat buffets while marathoning her favorite TV shows (best friends totally included) with the smallest dash of adulting–working at the library to pay her share of the rent. The only thing missing from her perfect plan? Her girlfriend (who ended things when Alice confessed she’s asexual). Alice is done with dating–no thank you, do not pass go, stick a fork in her, done. Alice is a biromantic and asexual black woman who starts off very confident in her identity as asexual, yet has experiences that have her questioning her orientation and how to talk about it.

32. In the Ravenous Dark by AdriAnne Strickland A pansexual blood mage reluctantly teams up with an undead spirit to start a rebellion among the living and the dead. This book features Japha, an asexual nonbinary character who serves as the best friend to the MC.

33. Seven Ways We Lie by Riley Redgate Life at Paloma High School is much like any other high school, with petty drama, judgmental assholes, and mind-numbing schoolwork. Until it isn’t. A scandal emerges: a student and teacher had an illicit affair. At the center of the scandal are seven teenagers, each with their own secrets, whose lives are transformed as a result of this scandal. One of the characters can be read as asexual (and possibly neurodiverse). He never explicitly labels himself as such, but the way he describes his experiences of [non-]attraction strongly point to him being on the ace spectrum.

34. Quicksilver by R. J. Anderson Tori thought she had left her past behind when she and her family started a new life in a new city. But then Sebastian Faraday reappears in her life to tell her that she’s not quite as safe as she thinks: the relay is still operating and a genetics lab is trying to track her down to figure out the secret behind her unusual biology. Tori is going to have to use all of her considerable technical expertise to escape her past and live the normal human life she’s always wanted to have. Asexual main character.

35. Hullmetal Girls by Emily Skrutskie Aisha Un-Haad, seventeen, and Key Tanaka, eighteen, have risked everything for new lives as mechanically enhanced soldiers, and when an insurrection forces dark secrets to surface, the fate of humanity is in their hands. In Hullmetal Girls, Aisha is not only ace/aro but she is also happy with her identity. Crucially, so is everyone else.

36. Not Even Bones by Rebecca Schaeffer Nita's mother hunts monsters and, after Nita dissects and packages them, sells them online, but when Nita follows her conscience to help a live monster escape, she is sold on the black market in his place. Aro/Ace main character

37. Before I Let Go by Marieke Nijkamp When Corey moves away from Lost Creek, Alaska, she makes her friend Kyra promise to stay strong during the long, dark winter, and wait for her return. Just days before Corey is to return home to visit, Kyra dies. The entire Lost community speaks in hushed tones, saying her death was meant to be. And they push Corey away like she's a stranger. With every hour, Corey's suspicion grows. Lost is keeping secrets-- but piecing together the truth about what happened to her best friend may prove as difficult as lighting the sky in an Alaskan winter. Aro/Ace main character.

38. If It Makes You Happy by Claire Kann Winnie is living her best fat girl life and is on her way to the best place on earth. No, not Disneyland–her Granny’s diner, Goldeen’s, in the small town of Misty Haven. While there, she works in her fabulous 50’s inspired uniform, twirling around the diner floor and earning an obscene amount of tips. With her family and ungirlfriend at her side, she has everything she needs for one last perfect summer before starting college in the fall. …until she becomes Misty Haven’s Summer Queen in a highly anticipated matchmaking tradition that she wants absolutely nothing to do with. Aro/ace secondary character.

39. Dread Nation by Justina Ireland An alternate history where the Civil War was put on hold when zombies started to rise. Almost finished with her education at Miss Preston's School of Combat in Baltimore, Jane is set on returning to her Kentucky home and doesn't pay much mind to the politics of the eastern cities, with their talk of returning America to the glory of its days before the dead rose.But when families around Baltimore County begin to go missing, Jane is caught in the middle of a conspiracy, one that finds her in a desperate fight for her life against some powerful enemies. And the restless dead, it would seem, are the least of her problems. The word asexual is not used, but that fits with the setting, and the explanation goes into a fair amount of detail, also ruling out that she likes women instead.

40. Vespertine by Margaret Rogerson When her convent is attacked by possessed soldiers, Artemisia defends the Gray Sisters by awakening the revenant bound to a saint's relic, even though she runs the risk of being possessed permanently by the powerful ancient spirit. Non-explicit romantic asexual main character. Fantasy.

41. Archivist Wasp by Nicole Kornher-Stace A postapocalyptic ghosthunter escapes her dire fate by joining the ghost of a supersoldier on his quest to the underworld Aromantic asexual main character. Dark fantasy/dystopian.

42. Summer of Salt by Katrina Leno While anyone would love to have a bit of magic, what happens when magic turns dark? Georgina Fernweh will come into her magic someday soon. Before she does, Georgina faces a tragedy that tests the islanders' trust. In this book, Georgina’s best friend Vira is aroace, and it’s addressed somewhat in the story at different points. There is a sweet strength between Georgina and Vira, full of loyalty and support that is lovely to see.

43. The Summer of Bitter and Sweet by Jen Ferguson In this moving and complex narrative, Lou learns to draw boundaries, stand up for herself, all while coming to terms with her demisexuality.

44. The Sound of Stars by Alechia Dow One-third of the human population has died and now the world is about to end. Ellie, a fat, Black, disabled, demisexual girl with access to an illegal library teams up with a music-loving alien to risk their lives to save the world.

45. The Grimrose Girls by Laura Pohl Pohl serves up a veritable smorgasbord of queer fairytale goodies in Grimrose Girls. This tale as old as time follows four students at the prestigious boarding school Grimrose Academy—Ella, Yuki, Rory, and newcomer Nani. When the former three’s best friend dies, all four girls are swept up in a dark and twisted mystery full of old fairytale magic. They must work together to unravel the secrets between them and break an ancient curse that dooms them to a fairytale ending (and not the fun kind). Yuki’s aromantic asexual identity is explored in her relationship to expectations, beauty, and friendship throughout the novel.

46. Radio Silence by Alice Oseman Frances has been a study machine with one goal. Nothing will stand in her way; not friends, not a guilty secret – not even the person she is on the inside. Then Frances meets Aled, and for the first time, she’s unafraid to be herself. So when the fragile trust between them is broken, Frances is caught between who she was and who she longs to be. In this book, Aled identifies as demisexual while Frances identifies as bisexual. The story really pays homage to the importance of friendship, and romantic storylines move to the background in a way we don’t often get in YA literature.

47. This Golden Flame by Emily Victoria Forced to serve her country’s ruling group, Karis wants nothing more than to find her brother. But family bonds don’t matter to the sole focus of unlocking the magic of an ancient automaton army. Karis is ace and other LGBTQ+ characters are introduced throughout.

48. Sawkill Girls by Claire Legrand A horror novel centered around three girls facing off against an unseen monster that preys upon the young women of the island of Sawkill Rock. Features a black asexual girl fresh out of a romantic relationship, as well as a f/f relationship.

49. Love Letters for Joy by Melissa See Less than a year away from graduation, seventeen-year-old Joy is too busy overachieving to be worried about relationships. She’s determined to be Caldwell Prep’s first disabled valedictorian. And she only has one person to beat, her academic rival Nathaniel. But it’s senior year and everyone seems to be obsessed with pairing up. One of her best friends may be developing feelings for her and the other uses Caldwell’s anonymous love-letter writer to snag the girl of her dreams. Joy starts to wonder if she has missed out on a quintessential high school experience. She is asexual, but that’s no reason she can’t experience first love, right?

50. Not Your Backup by C. B. Lee Part 3 in the Sidekick Squad series by C.B. Lee. Follows a questioning aromantic asexual latinx superhero sidekick fighting to prove her worth on the team despite her lack of superpowers, all admist the team's battle against the corrupt League of Heroes.

51. Belle Révolte by Linsey Miller Noble-born Emilie des Marais, 16, wants to become a physician, a role usually forbidden women of her class because of the corruptive toll the magical "noonday arts" exact. Common-born Annette Boucher wants to escape her domineering parents and master the less physically costly "midnight arts" of illusions, divination, and scrying, normally reserved for those who can afford the expensive education. At Emilie's urging, each girl takes the other's place. Miller (Ruin of Stars) writes in lush, dense prose that can require a careful read, but her protagonists' awareness of privilege and desire to challenge the status quo shines through. LGBTQ representation--including gay, trans, and nonbinary characters (Annette identifies as asexual biromantic)--further widens this tale's appeal.

52. Tarnished Are the Stars by Rosiee Thor A secret beats inside Anna Thatcher's chest: an illegal clockwork heart. Anna works cog by cog -- donning the moniker Technician -- to supply black market medical technology to the sick and injured, against the Commissioner's tyrannical laws. Determined to earn his father's respect, Nathaniel sets out to capture the Technician. But the more he learns about the outlaw, the more he questions whether his father's elusive affection is worth chasing at all. This YA novel features an aroace character gradually coming to accept his orientation in the midst of everything else that is happening in his life. Perfect for older teens who also enjoy WLW representation and dark themes.

53. Aces Wild: A Heist by Amanda DeWitt An all-asexual online friend group attempts to break into a high-stakes gambling club and commit a heist together. Includes a male asexual character navigating what love looks like for him, an aromantic asexual Latinx gender-nonconforming boy, a Vietnamese American and German asexual nonbinary teen, and a black asexual girl.

54. Planning Perfect by Haley Neil Summer vacation quickly becomes complicated for Felicity Becker as she tries to plan a perfect wedding for her mom, figure out her feelings for her friend Nancy, and wonder what dating will look like for her as an asexual person.

55. Ace of Hearts by Myriad Augustine Everyone around Alvin seems to be obsessed with one thing-- sex. Alvin finds it uncomfortable to think and talk about it and he knows he isn't ready and may never be. His friends, however, think that all Alvin needs is to hook up with the right guy. But the closer Alvin gets to being physical with someone, the more he's uncertain that this is for him and he begins to wonder if he's asexual. Can Alvin find the love that's right for him?

56. Beyond the Black Door by AdriAnne Strickland Everyone has a soul. Some are beautiful gardens, others are frightening dungeons. Kamia comes to know more about her identity as she decides to battle the forces of evil, no matter the cost... Asexual and demi-romantic main characters. Dark fantasy. Kamai is asexual, but isn’t aromantic—she has an interest in relationships that isn’t always depicted for those who are ace.

57. Loveless by Alice Oseman A queer coming of age story featuring a romance obsessed aromantic asexual main character discovering her sexuality and coming to terms with what that means, and a variety of other queer characters that support her on her journey.

58. Summer Bird Blue by Akemi Dawn Bowman Rumi Seto spends a lot of time worrying she doesn’t have the answers to everything. What to eat, where to go, whom to love. But there is one thing she is absolutely sure of—she wants to spend the rest of her life writing music with her younger sister, Lea. Then Lea dies in a car accident, and her mother sends her away to live with her aunt in Hawaii while she deals with her own grief. While not the main focal point of the book, Rumi does grapple throughout the story about where exactly she lands on the ace and aro spectrum—and whether she has to label herself at all.

59. Meet Cute Diary by Emery Lee In this queer rom-com, a transgender teen must decide if he's dedicated to romantic formulas or open to unpredictable love after an internet troll attack on his blog compels him and a fan to start fake-dating. Through an unlikely friendship with sweet, grounded Devin, who is Cuban American, asexual, and experimenting with pronouns, Noah--initially self-centered and standoffish--learns to value communication and empathy.

60. The Reckless Kind by Carly Heath In 1904 Norway, Asta runs away from her horrible fiancé to live with her two best friends. The three misfits set out to win the annual Christmas sleigh race to prove that they belong together. Queer asexual hard of hearing protagonist with heterochromia of Norwegian descent.

61. Forward March by Skye Quinlan How can band geek Harper have the chance of becoming the First Daughter with a fake dating profile? However, Harper does know that the drumline leader swiped right. Come along with Harper as she explores her truth during her last year of high school. Asexual-questioning cis female MC with anxiety and asthma.

62. Elatsoe by Darcie Little Badger What if America had monsters, magic, and interdimensional beings? For Elatsoe, this is real, and she has to uncover her cousin's murder! She can do this with the help of her ghost dog, Kirby, but has to remember not to wake human ghosts. Aromantic ace main character. Paranormal mystery. Casual representation which extends to Ellie’s identity as Lipan Apache. This identity is asserted more often and firmly than her asexuality, and Little Badger drops in nuggets of education for us settlers about what Indigenous people, and the Lipan Apache in particular, suffered at the hands of settlers.

63. All Out: The No-Longer-Secret Stories of Queer Teens Throughout the Ages by Editor Robin Talley A collection of short fantasy stories, featuring a variety of queer characters across multiple sexualities and genders. Features an asexual roller-skating girl from the 70s struggling to explain her identity to her crush.

64. Black Wings Beating by Alex London Twins Brysen and Kylee live in a world that revers the power of the falconers, but in a world where war approaches, they aren’t safe. Hunted for their power, they work together to trap the Ghost Eagle. Kylee is an ace character, focused on protecting her brother.

Graphic Novels

65. A-okay by Jarad Greene Eight grade can be tough, especially if you have acne and bullies, and lose friends. But our relatable asexual and aromantic protagonist, Jay, pulls through. This is a relatable memoir with colorful artwork.

66. How to Be Ace: A Memoir of Growing up Asexual by Rebecca Burgess A comic memoir detailing the author Rebecca Burgess's experience with growing up asexual in a world obsessed with sex. Also talks about her experiences with her own mental health and OCD.

67. Jughead, Volume 1 by Chip Zdarsky A comic book reboot of the Archie comics centered around Jughead Jones. Follows an aromantic asexual main character in typical Archie-style shenanigans. Part 1 of a 3 part series.

68. A Quick & Easy Guide to Asexuality by Molly Muldoon A charming introduction to asexuality, created to shed light on the misconceptions surrounding sex and being asexual. Told by writer Molly Muldoon and cartoonist Will Hernandez, both on the asexual spectrum.

69. Is Love the Answer? by Isaki Uta A poignant coming-of-age story about a young woman coming into her own as she discovers her identity as aromantic asexual. A complete story in a single volume, from the creator of "Mine-kun is Asexual."

Domestic Fiction

70. Have You Seen Luis Velez by Catherine Ryan Hyde Raymond Jaffe feels like he doesn't belong. Not with his mother's new family. Not as a weekend guest with his father and his father's wife. Not at school, where he's an outcast. After his best friend moves away, Raymond has only two real connections: to the feral cat he's tamed and to a blind ninety-two-year-old woman in his building who's introduced herself with a curious question: Have you seen Luis Velez? Mildred Gutermann, a German Jew who narrowly escaped the Holocaust, has been alone since her caretaker disappeared. She turns to Raymond for help, and as he tries to track Luis down, a deep and unexpected friendship blossoms between the two. Raymond is asexual (to be precise, he is aroace) And he is depicted as kind, loving, sensitive and realistic.

Fantasy

71. In the Lives of the Puppets by TJ Klune In a strange little home built into the branches of a grove of trees, live three robots--fatherly inventor android Giovanni Lawson, a pleasantly sadistic nurse machine, and a small vacuum desperate for love and attention. Victor Lawson, a human, lives there too. They're a family, hidden and safe. Protagonist: Vic, A curious, loving, & asexual human.

72. The Bone Season by Samantha Shannon In the mid-21st century major world cities are controlled by a formidable security force and clairvoyant underworld cell member Paige commits acts of psychic treason before being captured by an otherworldly race that would make her a part of their supernatural army. Demisexual main character.

73. The Perfect Assassin by K.A. Doore Divine justice is written in blood. Or so Amastan has been taught. As a new assassin in the Basbowen family, he's already having second thoughts about taking a life. A scarcity of contracts ends up being just what he needs. Until, unexpectedly, Amastan finds the body of a very important drum chief. Until, inevitably, Amastan is ordered to solve these murders, before the family gets blamed. Amastan is asexual and, as it turns out, homoromantic.

74. The Bruising of Quilwa by Naseem Jamnia Firuz-e Jafari was able to escape the slaughter of traditional blood magic practitioners by immigrating to the city-state of Qilwa. But now a terrible disease is spreading through the city, and Firuz believes it comes from ineptly performed blood magic. Now they must find a way to break a cycle of prejudice in order to survive. From the author: it's about an aroace nonbinary refugee healer who is trying to cure a magical plague in their new home while hiding their blood magic.

75. The Midnight Bargain by C. L. Polk The Midnight Bargain is a story "set in a world reminiscent of Regency England, where women's magic is taken from them when they marry. A sorceress must balance her desire to become the first great female magician against her duty to her family. Ysbeta has a clear goal for her life: to discover and share magic. Besides loving learning for its own sake, Ysbeta is asexual, and wealthy in her own right, so the bargaining season offers her literally nothing.

76. Every Heart A Doorway by Seanan McGuire Set in a world where a group of children have the ability to find and enter doorways into magical worlds, and now must find who's targetting them for this ability. Lead by an female asexual main character, with a trans love interest. First book in a series of novellas.

Science Fiction

77. The First Sister by Linden A. Lewis She's a priestess of the Sisterhood, traveling the stars alongside the soldiers of Earth who own the rights to her body and soul. When her former captain abandons her, First Sister's hopes for freedom are dashed and she is forced to stay on her ship with no friends, no status, and a new captain she knows nothing about. When the Mother, leader of her order, asks her to spy on Captain Saito Ren, First Sister discovers that sacrificing for the war effort is so much harder to do when your loyalties are split. He climbed his way out of the slums to become an elite soldier of Venus, but now he's haunted by his failures and the loss of his partner Hiro. But when Lito learns that Hiro is alive, but a traitor, and he's assigned to hunt Hiro down, and kill them, Lito must decide what he is actually fighting for - the society that raised him, or himself. As the battle to control Ceres reaches a head, Lito and First Sister must decide what - and whom - they are willing to sacrifice in the name of duty, or for love. Hispanic panromantic asexual protagonist (Lito).

78. Firebreak by Nicole Kornher-Stace Mal is one of many war survivors in the old town working multiple jobs to scrimp by, one of which is her team's streaming video game play. The team lives with several other roommates in a converted hotel room run by Stellaxis, the company that owns half of town, and is the only legal provider of drinkable water. When Mal catches sight of an elusive SecOps character, special non-player characters (NPCs) modeled after Stellaxis' twelve bioengineered operatives, the team pursues her inside the game to catch her on video for two seconds before their power curfew kicks in. By the time Mal heads down for her daily ration of water, they've secured a lucrative contract, involving an in-person meeting and a conspiracy theory, paying them to capture images of the three living SecOps characters. When Mal returns to find out why the next payment failed, she becomes involved in a fracas that will endanger everyone she knows. Aroace main character.

79. To be Taught, If Fortunate by Becky Chambers Four astronauts set out to explore the galaxy. This journey spans centuries and many worlds. A thought provoking read that explores the themes of loneliness and sense of purpose. Excellent cast of diverse characters and vivid world building. Chikondi is asexual and the text is careful to note that his relationship to the protagonist is no less emotional or vital than those she shares with people she is sexually involved with.

80. The Circus Infinite by Khan Wong What better person to take down a crime boss than a mixed-species fugitive! Join Jes on this exciting tale of espionage, torture, demolition. Sex-averse panromantic asexual lead character

Historical Fiction

81. Kaikeyi by Vasihnavi Patel The only daughter of the kingdom of Kekaya, she is raised on grand stories about the might and benevolence of the gods. Yet she watches as her father unceremoniously banishes her mother, her own worth measured by how great a marriage alliance she can secure. And when she calls upon the gods for help, they never seem to hear. Desperate for some measure of independence, she turns to the ancient texts she once read with her mother and discovers a magic that is hers alone. Kaikeyi is asexual and aromantic. Although the words "asexual" and "aromantic" aren't used in the book.

Western

82. The Complete Lady Ruth Constance Chapelstone Chronicles by L. C. Mawson If you’re looking for steampunk magic, the Lady Ruth Constance Chapelstone novellas are the place for you. Read them individually or all together in this compendium. Chapelstone is interested in her inventions, not love and romance.

Paranormal

83. The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your Homes by Joseph Fink Told in a series of eerie flashbacks, the story of The Faceless Old Woman goes back centuries to reveal an initially blissful and then tragic childhood on a Mediterranean Estate in the early nineteenth century, her rise in the criminal underworld of Europe, a nautical adventure with a mysterious organization of smugglers, her plot for revenge on the ones who betrayed her, and ultimately her death and its aftermath, as her spirit travels the world for decades until settling in modern-day Night Vale. Asexual secondary character.

Romance  

84. All the Wrong Places by Ann Gallagher After his three ex-girlfriends in a row leave Brennan because he's not fulfilling their sexual needs, he seeks out advice from Zafir, the owner of a sex shop. Zafir introduces Brennan to the concept of asexuality and slowly something more blossoms between them.

85. That Kind of Guy by Talia Hibbert Rae needs a fake date to take to her ex's wedding and convinces Zach, a close friend who has recently discovered that he is demisexual, to play along.

86. The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood In an attempt to convince her best friend that she really is over her ex-boyfriend, grad-student Olive panic kisses stern associate professor Adam in the hallway. (Olive is coded as demisexual/graysexual, but that label is never used in the book).

87. Far From Home by Lorelie Brown The oddest of odd couples finds unexpected joy in Brown’s warm, sweet contemporary romance. American citizen Rachel, a not-quite-asexual assistant film producer struggling to make a living in L.A., is drowning in student debt; Indian immigrant Pari Sadashiv, a lesbian logistics manager, needs a U.S. green card to advance her career. When Rachel offers to marry Pari in exchange for funds, it’s just party banter at first—but what’s to stop them from crafting a friendship with legal and financial benefits? Their platonic plans quickly go awry as Pari’s mother moves in to help plan the wedding, forcing them to live their lie. As Rachel feels herself awakening to an attraction she didn’t even know was possible, Pari has to decide whether she can live with the possible fallout of Rachel’s tentative first foray into same-sex love.

88. Kiss Her Once for Me by Alison Cochrun Last Christmas, Ellie met Jack in Powell’s when they both went for a copy of Alison Bechdel’s Fun Home, and over a cute argument over “shared custody”, and Jack poking gentle fun at Ellie (who had been crying alone and talking to a footstool as if it were her friend) they start to bond. Jack asks Ellie for coffee, and then they end up spending the whole day together. This is a big deal for Ellie, who is demisexual, and rarely develops attractions to anyone. And then Jack breaks her heart. Fast-forward to this Christmas when Andrew, the landlord who owns the building she works in, asks her to fake-marry him so he can access his inheritance, and shenanigans lead to her agreeing to this and to going home with him for Christmas, and surprise! Jack is Andrew’s sister.

89. The Charm Offensive by Alison Cochrun Tech wunderkind Charlie has never really been interested in dating, but agrees to join the cast of reality show 'Ever After.' While there he finds himself charmed by his producer, Dev, and questioning his sexuality. The Charm Offensive includes a conversation discussing asexuality and its spectrum.

90. Never Been Kissed by Timothy Janovsky Wren Roland has never been kissed, but he wants that movie-perfect ending more than anything. Thanks to Mateo’s boyfriend, he learns about demisexuality and realizes that when he came out as gay, he had not finished realizing truths about himself and intimate relationships.

91. How to be a Normal Person by TJ Klune Before The House on the Cerulean Sea blew up, Klune wrote this quirky and delightful story of two asexual people finding each other and their happily ever after.

92. Soft on Soft by Mina Waheed This super sweet, low-angst romance centers on two fat, queer women of colour (one Black and one Persian-Arab) who fall in love and find their happy ending with hardly any drama. There’s also anxiety representation. It’s just pure fluffy romance goodness. Demisexual protagonist.

Non-Fiction

93. Ace and Aro Journeys: A Guide to Embracing your Asexual or Aromantic Identity by The Ace and Aro Advocacy Project What does it mean to be ace or aro? How should I approach the challenges that come with being ace or aro? How can I best support the ace and aro people in my life? Join the The Ace and Aro Advocacy Project (TAAAP) for a deep dive into the process of discovering and embracing your ace and aro identities. Empower yourself to explore the nuances of your identity, find and develop support networks, explore different kinds of partnership, come out to your communities and find real joy within. Combining a rigorous exploration of identity and sexuality models with hundreds of candid and poignant testimonials -- this companion vouches for your personal truth, wherever you lie on the aspec spectrum. You are not invisible! You are among friends.

94. Being Ace: An Anthology of Queer, Trans, Femme, and Disabled Stories of Asexual Love and Connection by Editor Madeline Dyer Discover the infinite realms of asexual love across sci-fi, fantasy, and contemporary stories From a wheelchair user racing to save her kidnapped girlfriend and a little mermaid who loves her sisters more than suitors, to a slayer whose virgin blood keeps attracting monsters, the stories of this anthology are anything but conventional. Whether adventuring through space, outsmarting a vengeful water spirit, or surviving haunted cemeteries, no two aces are the same in these 14 unique works that highlight asexual romance, aromantic love, and identities across the asexual spectrum

95. Ace: What Asexuality Reveals About Desire, Society, and the Meaning of Sex by Angela Chen A non-fiction research book about the asexual perspective on society's facinations with love and sex, and the misconceptions about what being asexual really is and what it means to a person.

96. The Invisible Orientation: an Introduction to Asexuality by Julia Sondra Decker An introduction to what asexuality is, both for people who don't know what that means and for people that may be questioning their own sexuality. It aims to puts asexual people's experiences in context, as they move through a very sexualized world.

97. Gender Queer: A Memoir by Maia Kobabe A graphic memoir about author Kobabe's growing from adolescence to adulthood, as e explores eir gender identity and sexuality. Features a gender queer and asexual main character that uses e/eir pronouns.

98. Ace Voices What it Means to Be Asexual, Aromantic, Demi or Grey-Ace by Eris Young This is the ace community in their own words. Drawing upon interviews with a wide range of people across the asexual spectrum, Eris Young is here to take you on an empowering, enriching journey through the rich multitudes of asexual life.

99. I Am Ace: Adice on Living Your Best Asexual Life by Cody Daigle-Orians Tackling everything from what asexuality is, the asexual spectrum and tips on coming out, to intimacy, relationships, acephobia and finding joy, this guide will help you better understand your asexual identity alongside deeply relatable anecdotes drawn from Cody's personal experience.

100. Sounds Fake But Okay: An Asexual and Aromantic Perspective on Love, Relationships, Sex, and Pretty Much Anything Else by Sarah Costello and Kayla Kaszyca Drawing on their personal stories, and those of aspec friends all over the world, prepare to explore your microlabels, investigate different models of partnership, delve into the intersection of gender norms and compulsory sexuality and reconsider the meaning of sex - when allosexual attraction is out of the equation.

I haven't read all of these books, so I can't guarantee all of them. But I did my best researching all of them. I was making this list on my own and I was amazed that I could find over 100 books with asexual characters and I wanted to share it!

The Aromantic Book List is now out!

Tagging some people who were excited about this list: @sweetspiderstew @majorgenerally @shayberri789 @53rdcenturyhero @knightoflodis @neonghost39 @rosaazulina

[infi8ity]

nsfw. | MDI.

∞

NANAMI KENTO WOULD LEAVE HIS WIFE FOR YOU. a truth that crystallized with an intoxicating certainty after a week of nights spent watching your set at the gentleman’s club.

always front and center, whiskey in hand, suit undone, he lounged with his arms draped over the plush velvet red sofa he paid a hefty sum for each night—just to throw you quadruple that on to the stage. if it weren’t for his old lady at home, he would empty his wallet at your feet without a second thought.

after late nights at the office on a business trip miles from home, he could never forget how he had stumbled across club and caught a glimpse of the flashing marquee: “dirty diana.” your name alone sent a thrill throughout him, pulling him in like a moth to a flame.

one glimpse turned into a nightly ritual, each visit an escape from the job slowly eating him alive and failing marriage quickly driving him to insanity. each moment with you a tantalizing promise he couldn't resist. each gaze shared, full of lust and curiosity— intensified his temptation of infidelity.

he could do nothing as he was sucked deeper into a world where all he could think about was you.

you moved under the dim LED lights with a sultry confidence that captivated him completely, each sway of your body around the steel iron pole a siren’s call that lured him further away from his faithfulness. as you danced, every movement seemed to whisper promises he longed to fulfill. a sea of men came to watch your performance every night, but your gaze only found him.

and with that— he knew nothing about you, only that he needed you.

he needed you so badly that the moment you approached him after your fifth set of the week to thank him for his generosity and support, all of his morals shattered in an instant.

he needed you so badly that it took every ounce of restraint not to cum in his pants the moment he heard you speak for the first time—your voice a sultry melody that wrapped around him like a warm embrace. he needed you so badly that within an hour of meeting and sharing a few drinks with you, he was driving you back with him to the penthouse suite of his hotel down the road. he needed you so badly, that he didn't dare feel an ounce of shame when binding your hands together above your head with the tie that your wife gifted you last christmas.

he needed you so badly, that he didn't even have the decency to remove the silver wedding band on his left index finger as he palmed your beautiful tits in between his fingers or as you sucked your own juices clean from his digits.

how could he feel like a horrible person for cheating when your pussy felt as if it were made for him? when your sighs were delicate and pretty, and the way you looked at him beneath your lashes made him forget every worry and trouble he’d ever faced.

with his dick buried deep inside of you, he was lost in a world where guilt didn’t exist.

his wife never fucked him like this. her arch wasn’t as deep as yours… she never drained his cock dry, nor has she ever deep throated his length with such soft lips…

as you clenched tightly around his dick, your cunt slick with a mix of your climaxes, nanami decided that if he were to die in this very moment, he would die the happiest man on earth.

you knew he was married. you had seen the ring. the way he discarded his phone without a care in the world every time her name flashed across his screen. but you didn’t care. you had never done this before and you should have felt shitty but with every thrust into you, his chants of leaving his wife for you had your orgasm soon crashing over you. voices filling the room, a symphony of praises for each other. he whispers sweet promises of giving you the world.

you’d never have to dance again. at that revelation, you put your all in to satisfying him and he could not get enough of you.

nanami wanted to fuck you for the rest of his life. he wanted to gaze in to those beautiful eyes for all of eternity. as dawn broke over the penthouse after countless rounds, whilst bending you over against the kitchen island and pounding into your sore pussy relentlessly; it was you he let you break the need his wife. in response to her ten missed calls and 17 unanswered messages— under his instruction, you texted her four simple words.

"I want a divorce."

for hours following, he continued to have his way with you, his only regard for you as the new mrs.kento.

∞

© infi8ity. do not repost, translate, or modify my work.

[hotvintagepoll]

This is a three-way poll. Only one of these men will continue to the third round of the bracket.

Propaganda

Turhan Bey (The Climax, Arabian Nights, Prisoners of the Casbah)—Turkish matinee idol who actually got to break out of the mold of "sinister racist villain parts" to play romantic leading men

Bela Lugosi (Dracula)—no propaganda submitted beyond this link to a Tumblr gifset and this link to a Tumblr photo

Michael Redgrave (The Lady Vanishes)—my beautiful bisexual hot linguist geek dandy nerd. I'm specifically nominating him for "The Lady Vanishes," but how can you not love him in this—it's a strikingly modern performance, not a whiff of old school macho masculinity; he starts the movie as a bit of a cad, thoughtless and self-absorbed, but the second our heroine's in trouble he's attentive, he's helpful, he's running around speaking languages and helping her with international spycraft shenanigans and just being so funny and warm and JOYOUS. (and again. he is SO bisexual. see the picture [attached below]). he's hot in the debate club twink kinda way and i've never wanted to smooch an idiot more

This is round 2 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

"BISEXUAL."

[dexlexia]

untitled. - toji x reader

pairing: toji fushiguro x reader rating: 18+ summary: Toji was an intimidating man. He towered over you in a way that you couldn't describe. He was only five foot nine inches, but he made you feel so small. So fragile, like a delicate bird that he wanted to break the wings off of.  He was a possessive man, he hated when you went out with your stupid little friends, got drinks from pervy old business men and he had to drive you home. tags: dark & dirty, smut, blowjobs, multiple orgasms, car sex, breeding & pregnancy kinks, daddy kink, implied sugar daddy!toji, d/s, unhealthy relationships, drunk!reader, dubious consent, toji wants to make you a housewife

Toji was an intimidating man. He towered over you in a way that you couldn't describe. He was only five foot nine inches, but he made you feel so small. So fragile, like a delicate bird that he wanted to break the wings off of.  He was a possessive man, he hated when you went out with your stupid little friends, got drinks from pervy old business men and he had to drive you home. 

He wanted you home as his wife, a good homemaker,  maybe have you pregnant with a few little brats. That'll keep you busy, no need for college, partying and all the stupid inconsequential shit that you did in your day to day. The only books you should be looking at were cookbooks. 

He groped your ass while you stumbled your way to the car. Your high heels were doing little to support your drunken stance. You were like a newborn deer and Toji was the predator. But don't worry your little head, he told you, daddy's got you.  He helped you into the car and rounded the front to his driver's seat. When he got in, he looked at you. He reached out, his strong fingers in your done up hair. 

  "Now what do we do when daddy drives you home? Don't tell me you forgot your manners, little one." His voice was low. His cock was noticeable in the sweatpants he drove in to come get you at almost two in the morning.  You whined in response, unable to form a full sentence,  he yanked some of the pins out of your hair, "C'mon, honey. I trained you better." 

   "But, Toji. Can't I do it tomorrow?"

The scarred corner of his lip rose, "No, no, no.  You better give thanks to daddy, right now. Or you can walk to the bus stop, drunk and alone. Leave you to the wolves." The end of his sentence was like poison. His smile grew when he let go of your hair and you started to undo the ties of his pants with shaky hands.  Toji was nice and asleep when he got the call from you,  drunk and on the verge of tears that you couldn't get a cab home. 

In reality he would've never made you take the night bud home all the way to the manor he lived in, you wouldn't make it. But you didn't need to know that. He liked the fear in your eyes at the idea of being stranded. In reality you only needed him.  He groaned as you took his cock out of the sweats and exposed it to the warm summer air. He cupped your face,  "Show daddy some love." 

You leaned forward and started to lick at his cock, it was hot in your mouth as you tried to take as much as possible. He was packing however, and he hadn't fully trained your throat. So it was a struggle to fit it all in. He said when you sucked cock, you looked like a poor chipmunk trying to get it all in.  You used his toned abdomen and thighs to suck him off at a weird angle. 

Drool  started to coat your chin and down your neck. Tears pricked at your eyes as you tried to take more and more. That's what Toji's "training" was,  to take as much as possible. To break you down and build you back up. You felt his strong hand on your ass as he pulled up your short dress and palmed at your bare ass. You wore nothing about an uncomfortable thong to the club.  You made a muffled noise as he laid a slap on your ass.

Both of your heavy breathing made the windows start to fog up as the car sat in the dimly lit parking lot. He groaned and grit his teeth as he groped you. You were his prized possession, more than anything to him. He told you that you were like an angel to him, but like the devil himself, he wished to pluck every feather off of your wings and drag you down with him. "That's it baby girl, that feels so good. That's it, fuck."  He panted, "Touch yourself."

  "But daddy-"

  "I want you ready for when we get home and I will ruin your pussy. " His voice was clouded in lust as he looked down at you. Your eyes met, even in the dark you could see that Toji's pupils were enlarged. "C'mon baby girl, suck daddy off while you play with that pussy of yours." He licked his top lip. He looked more like a beast than a person in that moment, animalistic in the driver's seat as you repaid him. 

You nodded meekly and spread your legs a little wider in the cramped space and started to rub your clit with your manicured nails over top the pathetic piece of fabric you called underwear. Your mouth went back to his cock and you moaned against him as you tried to go deeper and deeper. The sensation made you wet as you kept going. Toji's hand soon found your hair and he gripped it tightly, pushing down for your throat to accommodate more.  Tears went down your face as you choked on his cock. 

  "That's it baby girl, daddy's close. Daddy's so close. You better not cum, I want you to finish all over my cock when we get home." He purred. You often joked that a man his age shouldn't be able to get hard so quickly, he taught you a lesson by making you ride him for an hour, pinching your clit every so often as to stop you from orgasming.  His breathing became tighter along with the grip on your head.  You let out small pathetic noises as he contruined to face fuck you. It hurt but it soaked your panties. 

You were his good fuck hole. His future baby mama. 

With another hard tug on your hair, he pushed his entire length into your throat and came down it. You struggled to breath as he painted the inside of your esophagus, leaving you unable to breath. It caused you to cough, with some of his cum coming up into your nose and mouth. Your face became flushed as you choked on his seed. But he dropped his grip on you and let you cough your way back to breathing while he basked in some post orgasmic bliss. 

   "That's it baby girl, cough it out. You're not going to die.' He leaned over and rubbed your back. Eventually you stopped and he leaned over for a kiss. His cock perked up once more at the sight of your disheveled state. But that was for later. For now he tucked himself back into his pants and drove you back along the dark roads towards the manor. 

Call him old fashioned, but the sight of his girl all knocked up made his cock twitch in his pants.  He kept a large hand on your bare thigh, he swore he could smell your soaked cunt from the driver's seat. He had you under lock and key in a way.  You gave yourself over to him in every way so why not show proof of the union for a few dark haired brats running around. And if you weren't busy enough with let's say two or three, he could almost make five or six.  He gripped your thigh and exhaled excitedly. 

The drive was long as he curved around dark roads, only illuminated by the high beams of the car. His hand snaked up the bottom of your dress and let his pinky finger prod at your cunt, he could feel the soaked fabric of your thong. You won't be needing that pretty soon. Could pregnant women even wear thongs or would the belly get in the way? Either way the thought excited him. He'd find a way to make his baby mama sparkle like the good whore she was. 

He parked the car and got you out. You were still quite drunk as he brought you inside and started to grope your breasts as he kissed your neck as you tried to get your heels off.  "You're so good, honey." He purred, "So good, you're amazing, I love you so much. You're mine, got it? I don't want you with any other man. "

You whimpered in response as he guided you upstairs, you felt his hard on up against your back as you made your way to the bedroom. His hands eventually found your waist as he got you into the room and onto the bed. Face down, ass up, the best way to breed a woman. Like a pair of fucking animals. 

He started to undress, pulling off the sweatpants, the underwear and the compression shirt. He leaned over and slapped your ass, watching it move with the force. "Get undressed, honey. Or does daddy have to do everything for you?" He got behind you on the bed and started to rub his cock up against your ass, "Get a move on or I'll rip it off of you." 

You did your best to get undressed, but your hands were too slow and Toji pulled the cheap fabric off your body. Whatever, he'll just buy you something new. And maybe something to accommodate the future bump. He rubbed your ass briefly before he tore the panties off too.  Leaving you bare under him. 

  "That's it baby girl, I love that. You look like a dream." Like a piece of meat, he thought. He wanted to do bad things to you, he wanted to make you a spoiled princess but also the dirt at the bottom of his shoe. The thought of such a small woman carrying his brood made his hard cock bob in anticipation. 

If you don't get pregnant tonight, he'll have many more opportunities to do so. He licked his middle and pointed fingers the inserted them inside of your tight cunt, feeling the wet heat on his digits. He thrusted them a few times. You were always so tight, he often wondered if you became a virgin again overnight. If so, he'd love to tear your hymen again.

But he was a dirty old man like that. Maybe he should have saved the delicious treat that was your cunt till you began to make a baby. But that was like buying the sweetest dessert and waiting a lifetime to eat it. And Toji was going to eat you up.  He continued to finger you, healing the noises of his fingers buried inside your wet cunt. 

  "Daddy," You moaned, your head felt in a haze. Your limbs felt lax and you couldn't do much but lie there as Toji fucked you until he was satisfied.  You buried your face further into the bed as he took his fingers out and soon slid his cock into you. You gripped the soft white covered of the bed as he started to fuck you from behind.

Sounds filled the room of your love making.  You moaned and whined as you felt the blunt head of his cock hit against the beginning of your cervix, effectively bruising it. The pain made you more wet.  Your body bounced on the bed as you tried to muffle your moans in the covers. But eventually Toji wanted to hear it all and pulled your head away and held your head.

  "Be loud, baby girl. I want to hear it all. Tell daddy how good you feel." 

  "I love it! Ah! I love it!" You cried out as your body moved with each thrust. It was euphoria, the rough feeling of his cock inside of you. You  reached down and rubbed your clit as your eyes rolled back. The extra pleasure made your mouth hang open as every obscene sound left your throat. 

You were a cum slut,  you were his good girl. You were everything with him and nothing without him.  He yanked on your hair as he continued to fuck you from behind. You gasped and moaned loudly as he moved. "Yes, daddy! Yes!"

  "You're mine, got it? You don't belong to anyone else."  He growled, which only made you moan. You were still very drunk and could barely hold yourself up but by your hair, Toji had a good grip on you. Your body bounced on the bed as he rammed into you. Your cunt clenched around him with every hard thrust. 

  "Yes, daddy I'm yours. I love you! ah!" You panted, your head swam as he buried deep inside of you. Your body moved on its own and you tried hard not to get sick all over the bed. Your brain turned off as you let the waves of pleasure course over your drunken body.  You deep down loved the man, even if he was cruel at times. He adored you in a possessive way that you always wanted. Your nails dug into the sheets as you arched your back.

Toji groped your ass with all his strength leaving bruising marks on your skin. You were going to be his good girl for a long time. He hissed through his teeth as he felt his cock grow painful with the need to orgasm. Paint your pretty cunt white, and he new you'd take every last drop like the angel you were.  You were a good girl that way, didn't even know that he was going to finish inside of you.

The prospect of you getting pregnant was such a turn on for  Toji.  It made him grin like a madman as he fucked you into the bed.  You all swollen with his child, waddling around the manner trying to pick up after the other kids he made with you. He'll go away for a few months on jobs, but don't worry by the time you deliver the next brat he'll be home. 

He dropped your head and let you bury it into the covers as you felt warm all over. It was so erotic, the combination of sex and your drunken state  made you only a doll for Toji to fuck. You gasped into the sheets and felt your cunt clench around him. You could feel the smirk on his lips as he continued to move. 

   "Daddy, please."

  "Aw fuck, you're going to make a perfect wife. You're mine, you got that. You are mine, forever." He purred as he moved. 

You clenched around him tightly as he rammed against you. Your mouth hung  open on the bed as he hit against yours. He was not holding back even if you weren't all there. But he had free reign of your body, you were his mind, body and soul. So even a no, meant yes. His hands gripped your hips as he was on the edge of orgasm. 

He let his mind race about thoughts of you knocked up. How lovely you'd look round with his children, you'd be such a good stay at home wife. Your duty belonged to him and the children you'd make together. It was better this way. He groaned loudly as his pace became erratic.  With one final stroke he pushed his cock as deep as it could go and gripped you so tightly he left bruises and finished inside of you. All he needed was for two cells to meet and he'd have a beautiful stay at home mama. 

You came on his cock, your hand still focused on your clit as you clenched tightly and finished off. It left your already drunk head swimming as you dropped your hips onto the bed and tried to get in a comfortable position.  Your breathing came out in gasps as you tried to collect yourself. Toji dropped behind you, his large hand went down to your cunt and felt the stickiness on your lips as he felt his cum ooze out of you. He licked his lips and buried two fingers inside of you in an effort to keep it all in. Where it belonged. 

  "Please, daddy. No more." You whimpered. 

  "It's okay honey, we'll stop for now.' He kissed your neck as his thumb teased your clit, "You're such a good girl for me. You know that right." His voice was warm and sweet. He pressed on your clit a little harder, "Always so obedient.  You know exactly how daddy likes it, and daddy knows how you like it. Because you're mine and you're gonna be mine for the rest of our lives. How does that sound?"

You moaned from the sensation of his fingers on your cunt, "Yes, daddy."  Your breathing was still labored, your head felt heavy and sticky. Your body was covered in sweat and you were sure your makeup was smeared across your face. But nonetheless he still played with you, he knew exactly what every inch of skin did. 

Quickly he took his fingers out and licked them briefly, getting the taste of his baby girl on his tongue. Mixed with the salty nature of his cum. He then slapped your ass and said, "Go sober up, we're not done here."  

"But you said-"

  "I know, but you're so much of a tease that I can't help it. Now get clean and sober, and I'm going  to eat you alive.' He grinned as he watched you get up on shaky legs. There was no way you were getting sober quickly, but that didn't bother Toji. He'd still fuck you, even if you become unconscious. After all, he had a mission to finish. 

[hiddenzev]

Take A Shot : Chapter 1 [ Kick Off ]

Pairing: Joel Miller x soccer player f!reader

Chapter Summary: You return to your hometown where your history with Joel started.

Chapter Warnings --- no beta, fluff, light angst, Idiots in Love, childhood friends

WC: 7.7k

series masterlist, AO3

A/N: Finally another fic is out! I've been busyyy and I know this is not going to be a consistent updating as my previous fic but I will try my best because this was more fun to write. Also, my favourite football (soccer) team is not performing well since a few weeks ago and it's been depressing yall...im not okay...fuckkk Hope yall enjoy this one even tho yall may not be soccer fans.

— May 2024 —

"Dad! Let's go!" 

9-year-old Sarah stood by the truck, waiting for her dad to get out of the house. She tapped her foot restlessly, annoyed that Joel was taking longer than expected to get ready to go. She was excited to watch her favourite soccer team, Austin Violet Football Club, play the first game of the new season. She was dressed in the home jersey and shorts, pairing them with the team's scarf around her neck, hair styled as space buns with the help of Joel. The club director invited her to watch the game after signing a 2-year contract for the Austin Violet Football Academy—a part of the Austin Violet FC consisting of both men and women. 

Sarah was an aspiring soccer player. She fell in love with the game at 6, when her great-grandmother played it on TV while she was babysitting her. Since then, she had been going on and on about soccer, and Joel signed her up for a youth soccer club nearby that honed her soccer skills to be selected for Austin Violet Football Academy. It was the most ecstatic she had ever felt in her 9 years of a lifetime when Joel told her that she was selected to join the youth academy. Nothing could compare to the endearment in his heart when he witnessed Sarah explode with joy. 

"The game ain't going nowhere, baby girl. We still got time." Joel said over his shoulder as he locked the door. 

Sarah groaned loudly, exasperated, seeing her dad taking the whole time in the world as if he were doing it intentionally. Her shoulders slumped forward, the AVFC scarf around her neck swaying slightly at both ends to her movement. With keys dangling in his hand, he opened the passenger door for Sarah, and she side-eyed him before climbing into her seat, complaining under her breath. Joel sighed heavily, having to deal with her daughter's attitude again. 

-----

The Violet Crown Football Stadium was almost packed with thousands of supporters from the home and away teams. Everyone was hyped with the anticipation of the first game, chanting endlessly, as loud as they could. The setting sun painted the field orange mixed with the green grass, blanketing it with warmth. The smell of summer is swaying to the beat of the surrounding air. Sarah looked around in awe, watching the fans around her cheering for the team. She could not help the smile appearing on her face as she immersed herself in the moment. 

They were seated in the suites section, which was where other VIPs, players not in the squad, players' family members, or other relevant individuals were seated. The suites were at the middle level, where the game could be clearly viewed. While Sarah was busy scanning everything around her, Joel was on his phone, talking to Tommy about work.

Even though Joel was supportive of her passion for soccer, he did not take the time to be fully invested in AVFC. He knew the rules of the game and only of her favourite player at the time, Kiara King, the striker for Austin Violet women's team. He supported the team in his own way. Without Sarah's love for soccer, he would not have watched soccer but be indulged in baseball instead. There were underlying emotions and memories stuck deep inside him that he did not want to resurface again whenever soccer came to mind.

"Enough about work; Sarah must be real excited about the game," Tommy said.

"Tell me about it," Joel sighed. "She was rushing me until we got in the stadium today." 

Joel turned his head to look at Sarah, whose eyes were sparkling with admiration as she watched the players walk out of the tunnel. The whole stadium roared with claps and howling cheers. It was getting harder to hear Tommy through the phone, with the loud noises filling the stadium. 

"I know you don't follow the team that much but they signed a new player at the end of the summer break," Tommy updated him with the news.

"Oh, really?" Joel said in a disinterested voice as he looked down on the field. Due to the distance, he could not see the players' faces.

The display screen started to show each player of the home team while the announcer introduced them one by one, starting with the goalkeeper and slowly progressing to the attackers. The stadium erupted with cheers for each of the players that had been introduced.

"You won't believe who their new signing is," Tommy's voice sounded distorted in Joel's ear.

"I'll call you back later! I cannot hear you right now! The game is starting already. Bye!" Joel shouted into his phone before ending the call without waiting for Tommy's response.

Sarah stood in her seat, jumping up and down, shouting excitedly with the rest of the supporters while Joel stared at her lovingly. The announcer started to announce the midfielders and the name he had long forgotten blasted through the stadium speakers, catching his attention back to the screen and confirming his doubts. 

There you were, waving to the crowd that welcomed you with big arms and a smile on your face. The smile that played a significant role in his childhood was now back in town. He was confused with the longing he did not expect to feel as he looked at you, guilt on his face. Suddenly, the noises around the stadium died down—muffled in his ears—the long lost memories with you that he continuously tried to lock away flooded his head. He could not erase the image of you, eyes brimming with tears as you turned to leave him 12 years ago. Out of his life. Now, you were back to haunt him.

"Dad! Look! She's wearing my number!" Sarah shook him out of his thoughts, pointing at your jersey number—20–the same as her birthdate. 

What kind of a sick game is the universe playing with him, seeing the coincidence of you wearing Sarah's favourite number on your back.

-----

23 years ago, your family moved from Dallas to Austin due to your father's job, and moving into a new home brought you a lot of emotions. You were excited to live somewhere new but also sad to be unable to be with your friends anymore.

It was the first day of school. You were sitting at your table, waiting for someone to sit beside you as your table partner. The kids in the class looked wary as they came in, not knowing what to expect for the first day. A few kids had reddish eyes because they were crying and were not emotionally ready for 1st grade. You were not one of them. 

Your father had already trained you to be tough from the get-go. He was teaching you soccer right when you started learning to walk. Little did you know, he did it to live his dream through yours. He was the definition of tough love. He did not go easy on you during his home training. Sometimes, losing his patience, hurling insults and hitting you, but you took everything like a champ because if not, the anger in him would be thrown toward your mom. 

Growing up, you witnessed the treatment that your mom got from him. You got in between them most of the time, wrapping your body around your mom to protect her, but what can a small and frail kid like you could do compared to the tall and big figure of your father? 

"Hi! I'm Joel. What's your name?"

A voice beside you brought your mind back to the classroom. You turned your head to find a boy with a smile that could light the whole classroom brighter than it already was. His hand is out towards you, expecting a handshake.

"Hi, Joel." You replied, taking his hand as you gave him your name.

"That's a pretty name," he said, his dimples on display as he smiled, which rendered you speechless. Your heart stopped for a beat at that moment, and it felt very strange because it was the first time you had felt that way, especially by a boy. 

"Thank you." You thanked him with a shy smile sent his way. 

From then on, the two of you were inseparable. He followed you everywhere you went, and you did not mind him at all, enjoying his company. He talked to you about everything, be it his favourite TV show, his favourite animal, or even his embarrassing moments. He was not afraid to tell you about his grandma, who was taking care of him and his baby brother once his mom left after their dad's death the previous year.

You saw his forlorn eyes as he told you the story. You empathised with the amount of hurt in his voice as you listened. In return, you confided in him about your parents. About how strict your father was towards you and how it pained you to see your mother's suffering, not being able to stand up for herself. 

You were surprised when he pressed himself against you, arms circling your body. He was hugging you, and you learned that it was his way of comforting not just you but himself as well.

The two of you bonded through the traumas and the amount of time you spent together during and after school. Although, most days after school, you couldn't play with him and the other neighbourhood kids due to your father's intense training sessions, he always filled you in on the things you missed. He always welcomed you like no other kid does. He did not judge you because of the circumstances that you were living in. 

Even though he lived at the other end of the street, he would cycle past your house just to see how your training was going in your front yard. Your father had noticed him cycling past a couple of times, but he did not say a word; he only sent his hardened glares towards Joel, which the brave 7-year-old did not cower away from.

There were times when you got distracted by Joel, which resulted in you receiving harsh punishments for not focusing on your training. Tears formed in your eyes from the pain in your body whilst you carried on with the punishments, but that didn't stop you from secretly waving at Joel as he passed by, smiling at you. 

On days without training, you joined Joel and the other kids cycling and exploring the neighbourhood. Not afraid to get dirty, you found yourself rolling around in the grass field as you looked at the boys who were playing fights or flying kites. Joel never left your side��always making sure you were taken care of, not wanting you to get in trouble with your father if you got injured while messing around. 

Sometimes, he can be too much about the little things—constantly wiping dirt off your face and other parts of your body as if you are not used to it, trying to carry you when you were perfectly fine with walking, or even worse, covering your ears whenever the boys said a bad word which didn't even come close to what you have already heard from your father. You were an independent kid, so you were annoyed when Joel started to treat you like a baby, but you didn't call him out on it, knowing that was just his big brother instincts. 

You shared everything about school with your mom whenever you reached home. It was the only time you could comfortably talk with her without Dad's presence in the house. She would coo when you told her about the things Joel did for you, finding it sweet that there's a kind boy out there taking care of you. You complained to her about how Joel was treating you like a baby, thinking she would take your side, but you found her laughing softly at your annoyance. 

"I like Joel. He sounds like a good friend, " your mom said softly, caressing your head.

"He is." You nodded your head, looking at her with your big round eyes.

"I'm happy you found a good friend, bubba." She kisses the crown of your head, lips lingering there for a while.

"He found me first, mama." You innocently corrected her, and she just smiled to herself, hugging you tight.

-----

— June 2024 —

Players were lined up in the tunnel, getting ready to get out to the field for the match. According to the positions you play, you were standing in the middle of your team's line, shaking your limbs to rid the nerves away. Each player was allocated a child mascot to walk to the field. There was a girl around the height of your chest, standing beside you. You noticed her staring at you with admiration in her big, round eyes. You instinctively smiled as you bent down to meet her eyes. 

"Hi! What's your name?" you asked her in a higher-pitched voice, similar to that you used when talking to kids. 

"Sarah," She meekly replied with a bashful smile, still maintaining eye contact with you.

Her smile reminded you of someone, but you could not put a face on it. You ignored the thoughts of her looking familiar to you for some reason.

"Is this your first time being a mascot?" 

"Yes," Biting her lip out of being scared. 

"You don't have to be nervous, okay? You got me." You reassured her, seeing how nervous she looked. 

She nodded her head slowly, trusting you with your words.

"I like your hair, Sarah. It's pretty." Pointing at her space buns as you compliment her, trying to distract her from her overwhelming feelings. 

"Thank you. My dad helped me with it." Her eyes widened. She tilted her head towards you to show the work of art her father had created. 

"Your dad?! Wow! He did a pretty good job." Your smile grew wider, and you adored how she was bragging about it. 

The image of your father crept up in your mind. You cannot help but compare your father to hers. From just hearing that Sarah's father did her hair, you knew that he must be a wonderful dad to her. He definitely adores her so much, even to master the hairstyles for his daughter. 

Meanwhile, your father was still psychologically and emotionally abusing you at 30. You were glad to be able to make it to pro, leaving the house, away from his grasp. He will call you after every game—whether your team loses or wins—he will criticise your mistakes. Not once has he said that he was happy and proud of you despite your achievements. After some time, you don't even expect or want to hear that from him. There were times you purposefully ignored his calls, but a few hours later, your mom would be calling as she sobbed, begging you to just listen to what he had to say. 

After you left Austin at 18, you told your mom that you would do whatever it took to let her be free from your father. However, she insisted that she loved him too much and could not bear to leave him alone, knowing he would suffer from the fallout. You get that he is the love of her life, but it hurts so much to see the relationship infested with so much toxicity that she thinks it's better to hold on to it instead of letting go. 

"Does your dad do your hair, too?" Sarah pointed at your hair, which you had braided.

"No, I did it myself. Is it nice?" You let her touch your hair as you answered her.

"It's so beautiful!" She adoringly exclaimed.

"Aw, thank you!" 

You heard the shuffling of the players at the front of the line, starting to move out of the tunnel. 

You held out your hand for Sarah to take. "Are you ready to make your dad proud?" You raised your eyebrows expectantly.

She nodded her head vigorously, moving along by your side. The cheering slowly got louder as you walked out, and when you finally stepped into the field, you felt Sarah's hand gripping you tighter. You placed your other hand on hers, caging her hand between both of yours to let her know that you were there with her. You know it's not easy for a kid to walk out to a full stadium that is overwhelming with shouting and cheering. 

Eventually, everyone was lined up perfectly, side by side, facing the cameras. The children were standing in front of the players, and you placed your hands on Sarah's shoulders, ensuring she was okay. You noticed her looking up towards the suites section when you followed her gaze. She was probably looking at her father, you thought. However, there were so many faces everywhere that you could not search for and focus on just one person. Hell, you did not even know what her father looked like. 

After shaking hands with the opponent team, Sarah and the other kids had to return to the tunnel. Before she went off, she turned to hug you.

"Thank you!" she said while her cheek was pressed in your chest. Her eyes closed as she embraced the moment. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders, swaying her from side to side. 

"Well, aren't you our lucky charm? Just watch because we're gonna win this game for sure."

She grinned from ear to ear, slowly letting go of you. Ugh, it's annoying that she looked so much like someone you know, but you don't know who exactly it was. 

"See you around, you lil angel" You pinched her cheeks before returning to your starting position.

Sarah must have been your lucky charm because your team won that game. Since then, she has always been in your mind whenever you stand in the tunnel before a game. She had quite an impact on you. You never figured out why she looked familiar to you until the day you met her again.

-----

Joel and Sarah were walking hand in hand through the hospital corridor, the unmistakable sterile scent present in the space weighing heavily on their shoulders. The floor was quieter than usual—visiting hours were finishing in a few hours. Sarah was still in her soccer fit from earlier training while her bag was swaying along on Joel's shoulder. Trudging into the wardroom at the end of the hall, Joel let go of Sarah's hand, who ran inside as soon as she saw her great grandma, Nana.

"Nana!" She shouted, rushing towards the bed. 

"Look who it is! My bunny!" Nana excitedly opened her arms, waiting for Sarah's hug.

They stayed embracing each other for a period of time—Sarah pressed her cheek on Nana's shoulder while Nana slowly stroked the back of Sarah's head. Joel witnessed the moment that had been a usual occurrence for him recently.

The first time when he got the call from Tommy on the day Nana was admitted to the hospital, he had almost forgotten how to breathe. His stomach plummeted to the ground-hearing the trembling in Tommy's voice saying Nana could have died if he had been late to come back home from work. He did not know how he got to the hospital with Sarah when his head was clouded with worry. He carried Sarah on his back when they got out of the car and went inside as fast as possible.

It was as if someone had ripped his heart out and left him to bleed out alone when his gaze landed on Nana's lying form on the bed with tubes sticking to her body. Nana was his grandma who literally raised both of the Miller brothers—single-handedly—after her daughter left them in her care. So, to see the person who was very dear to him go through something that horrible—heart failure—altered something deep in him for a while. 

It had been a week since she was admitted, and Joel was still processing that. This was the second time she had to go to the hospital because her condition seemed to worsen over time. He knew he had to prepare for the worst scenario sooner or later, but he was still in denial about it all—he didn't want to let go of his constant. In a way, he didn't want to face his abandonment issues from the women in his life—his mom, you and Talia.

"How are you, Nana?" 

"Never been better." Nana gave Sarah a cheeky wink.

"I saw you on TV yesterday. I'm so proud of you, bunny." Nana leaned in to kiss Sarah on the crown of her head. 

"Did you see her? She was standing with me." Sarah was elated to share her experience as a child mascot with you.

"I did! Did you talk to her?" Nana asked.

"She was so nice, Nana. I like her. I think she's my favourite player now." Sarah's eyes were dreamy as she gushed about you to her great-grandma.

"C'mon now, you change your favourite player every month." Nana's voice was flat as she rolled her eyes jokingly at Sarah

"No I don't," Sarah argued, lying through her teeth. Nana was speaking the truth. Sarah changed her favourite player almost every month according to her mood, but this time it was different. To be physically in the presence of the team and the good impression that you made on her struck a chord in her to choose you as her number one player no matter what.

"Whatever you say, bunny." 

Joel was already sitting beside the bed, listening to his daughter talk about his childhood best friend. For the past 12 years, he had reflected on what had happened throughout high school. It was a terrible experience for him when he looked back on it—chasing popularity, peer pressure, toxic masculinity, and, for the worst part, leaving you alone in your misery when you needed him the most. His apology was long overdue, and he thought he had already lost the chance to speak to you until you returned.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Nana lowered her voice, which made Sarah lean in slightly, curious about the secret. "I've met her as a kid before." This fact made Sarah part her lips in shock, and her eyebrows shot up fast to her forehead. 

"Really?" Sarah's voice was barely louder than a whisper while she stared at Nana.

"Nana—"Joel spoke for the first time to interrupt Nana. He was slightly afraid to let his past and current life crash, not knowing how to handle it if it came to light. 

"She is a friend of your father." Nana ignored his warning and continued to tell Sarah the facts about the past.

"She is? You didn't tell me."  Sarah swiftly turned around to Joel, furrowing her brows, feeling slightly betrayed that her father had known you personally all this while and kept it a secret. 

Joel gave Nana an annoyed look, disappointed that she told Sarah about his connection with you. His jaw tensed before he opened his mouth to explain himself.

"That was a long time ago. We are not friends anymore." That was the best he could say, and he could tell from Nana's expression that she was disappointed in him as she recalled the time she had heard what had happened to you. 

"What happened?" Sarah questioned him, paying full attention to him, hearing the story for the first time.

"She left Austin to play professional soccer, and we didn't talk anymore." He shrugged his shoulders as he explained to Sarah in the simplest terms. If it was laid out on the table, the truth was that he fucked up. He did not want Sarah to know that because he wouldn't be able to handle his daughter's disappointment in him. 

"Was she a nice person back then, too?" Her big round eyes were still lit with curiosity as she learned new facts about her favourite player.

Joel reminisced about the time he spent knowing you with a longing look in his face. His eyes looked out the window by the bed, absentmindedly, as your face came into his mind, hitting him with all kinds of emotions. Your petite hands were in his as the two of you walked together after school, the soft glow on your face from the warm sunlight and your hair flowing tenderly with the breeze. 

"She was," he whispered. A slight curl on one side of his mouth appeared that was not unnoticed by Nana. She had been holding on to the hope that the both of you would make amends someday, and it warmed her heart that the time had finally come closer for it. She missed you a lot. You were like her granddaughter that she never had, not like her mischievous grandsons that gave her headaches. You brought a different kind of joy to her life, and when you told her that you had to leave, both of you were crying in each other's arms. She knew she did not have much time left in this world, and she hoped it wouldn’t be too late to see you again.

-----

— July 2024 —

"You know the drill, right? Just interact with the kids. Watch how they play, give them some advice, and remember to smile. The cameras will follow you around during the shoot." The team's social media manager, Emma, briefed you again as you came into the facility centre to prepare yourself for the shoot.

Filming with kids has always been your favourite. It allows you to stay in touch with your roots and serves as a reminder that there are kids who look up to you, so you have to always set a good example for them. 

"I heard that their parents are here too?" You looked at Emma for confirmation.

"Yes. They are sitting in the stands. It will be a surprise appearance for them as well. After the filming, you will take pictures with the players and their families. Got it?"

"Okay, got it."

You got mic'd up while the filming crew settled everything else. Once they were set, you moved quietly to the training field where the young academy players were having a small match amongst themselves. It stroked a sense of nostalgia in you, seeing them running and kicking with their little limbs. Your heart warmed with the memories of you being in a young girl's team, dreaming of being a soccer star.

You heard some murmuring when you walked past the stands where the parents were, but your focus was fixed on the young players. Walking faster as you neared the sideline, one of the girls spotted you and squealed, causing them to stop their actions. 

You continued walking towards where the coaches were standing, trying to hide the excitement on your face.

Some of them gasped, covering their mouths, not believing that the first team player had come to watch them. 

"Come on, girls! Keep playing!" You clapped your hands, signalling to them to continue playing. 

They looked at each other with smiles still stuck on their faces as they slowly moved their bodies again.

You shook hands with the academy team coaches and manager, who were also glad to see you. They talked to you about the players and the drills they went through, so you got the gist of how they ran things. You did a quick scan of all the players, and one of them stood up to you. That player was Sarah. It had been a few weeks since you met her, and you thought about her more than you know. You were enamoured by her innocence that you don't experience in your daily adult life. Wearing the same hairstyle, the blurry mystery face you cannot put together to match her face appeared in your head. 

Sarah was playing as the right winger. You were impressed with her movements, especially for someone that young. Both of her feet were well balanced; one leg was not significantly stronger than the other, which meant that she had more of an advantage in her dribbling skills. Her focus on the ball once she got the ball controlled was unwavering, and she was not afraid to take her chances at shooting. You saw the massive potential of a player in her and hoped to see her grow as time went by.

As the game continued, you tried your best to watch the other girls, but your eyes followed Sarah. Compared to the rest, she was significantly versatile—being able to defend as well as her attacking skills. Unbeknownst to you, she was slowly gaining your heart even though you had only met her once.

After the game ended, the girls sat together for debriefing; exhaustion was evident on their faces flushed, strands of hair sticking to their sweaty faces, and eyes fixed on the grass below them. The team's manager and coaches said a few words before letting you take the stage. When it was your turn, the girls turned their heads to you as if they forgot you were there momentarily. Having their full attention, you started talking.

"What do y'all feel about the game?" You asked them. 

"Bad." One of the players in the front spoke up, and you later found out that her name was Ellie. 

"Why do you feel that way?" You raised an eyebrow at her, not expecting the quick acknowledgement of your question. 

"Because Sarah overtook me a few times, and that means I sucked at defending today." Her eyebrows furrowed as she explained—displeased with her own mistakes. 

"We all make mistakes sometimes; of course, we feel disappointed when they happen. Even a professional player—like me—makes them. But the mistake is what make us strive to be better. We reflect on it and improve from there." You explained to all of them.

 "And the fact that you are aware of your own mistakes tells me that you are one step closer to being a better player than you were before." You smiled reassuringly to Ellie, liking her boldness in speaking her mind. 

It's ironic that when you were around their age, you were very critical of your own performance—beating yourself up over something so small because you knew your father would never let it go. You never come around to look at things positively until you meet the other professional players—who became your good friends—during your career. 

"Now, tell me what you did good in the game?" You squatted down to be at the same eye level as Ellie. 

Ellie opened her mouth but closed it instantly, unable to think of an answer. Her eyes darting around, away from making eye contact with you. 

"You've had a couple of good long passes to the forwards, and your tackling form is pretty great,"

"Really?" She said softly—not believing what you said. 

"Absolutely! Why would I lie?" Cocking your head to the side, with one brow raised. 

Her cheeks raised slightly, tugging the corners of her mouth into a small smile that she tried to hide from you. 

You spent another 20 minutes answering the girls' questions—how you first started soccer, how you recovered from your bad injury, and even what boots you wore for your games. You took a group photo together before they dispersed to their parents, waiting for you to take pictures with each family. 

You were already halfway done with the team when you spotted Sarah among those in the queue, and you noticed two men standing by her, but it was a quick glance before you were able to take a long look at their faces. The line of players you were taking photos with kept moving slowly as you took your time to get to know each of them properly. 

Once you said goodbye to one of the girls, you saw a small figure rushing towards you in the corner of your eyes. As soon as you turned back around, you felt a pair of arms encasing your waist. You looked down and recognised the same space buns that Sarah had when she was one of the child mascots. She looked up at you, chin resting on your stomach while she portrayed a big grin. You cannot help the adoration that came into view on your face while you hugged her back. 

"Hi, lil angel!" 

"You remember me!" She looked with a mix of surprise and joy on her face.

"How could I forget our lucky charm with this pretty face?" Sarah stared at you with her big, round eyes sparkling with so much admiration that you almost felt guilty for being the subject of that look.

Her grip on you loosened when she turned around, gesturing for-you assumed-her family members to come closer.

"Come and say hi!" She moved away from you to let the two men near you.

Maybe it's the athlete in you that made your eyes move towards their physique first. You noticed they were both almost the same height, taller than you by a couple of inches. Their toned muscles, which were on display for you, seemed to be earned from hard labour instead of the gym. Catching you, scanning their bodies, one of them cleared their throat, making you shift your focus towards him. 

He looked way younger than you—clean-shaven with curly, medium-length hair, passing his ears. You sensed that he had an easygoing and friendly demeanour when he introduced himself.

"Hey, how r' ya?" He sounded nervous but still was able to confidently reach out to shake your hand, with an unexplainable look on his face. 

You returned the handshake with, "Hi, nice to meet you." You cocked your head slightly to the side, sensing the weird awkwardness coming from him. 

You pulled back and looked at him for a moment before glancing at the other man who was standing beside him. You had to do a double take when your gaze landed on that man for a few seconds longer. Your heart suddenly picked up its speed from the recognition. Unexpectedly, a face vaguely reminiscent of your time back in Austin was here. 

Joel fucking Miller—the reason for your happiness in Austin, but he was also the one that injected bitterness in your heart in the last few years in it. 

His face was different than the one you tried to erase 12 years ago, to no avail; you didn't succeed. Time clearly had worn out his face a little bit—the clean-shaven face back then had been filled with scruffy facial hair, creases on the forehead, and noticeable crow's feet by his eyes. Even so, it only enhanced his features to be more attractive than he already was before. 

Joel could not maintain eye contact with you like he used to. You noticed his tensed jaw and darting eyes towards everywhere else except you. He seemed like he wanted to hide in a hole somewhere. Seeing him not in the slightest bit happy to see you again stung you a little. You could not blame him for how he was acting, knowing how bad things were left between you. 

You had long moved past it after going to therapy. As time went by, you saw things from a different perspective, in a more mature way, to understand his position at the time. You took the fact that you won't see him again and did your own healing by trying to forgive him for his immaturity back in the day on your own terms since you were not able to talk openly with him.

Now, he was standing before you, and somehow, you felt relieved to see him after all those years.  

"Do you recognise me?" The younger man asked you, giving an expectant smile as he waited for you.

You turned your head back to him, still speechless from seeing Joel. He could only be that one person. 

"Tommy?" You asked with one brow raised at him.

"Oh! I thought you wouldn't remember my name!" His jaw dropped, and he slowly crept up to a broad smile, a result of the fact that you remembered his name. His hands were rested on his chest from the shock.

"Of course, I remember you. It just took me awhile to recognise you because you look different," you looked at him up and down. "Look at you! You're taller than me now." You gestured at him with your palms opened, waving your hands over his grown body.

"More handsome now, am I right?" He struck a pose, hands bending upwards to point at himself with both thumbs. He sneaked a wink at you, making you jog down memory lane, remembering how his brother winked at you during your younger days. 

You huffed a laugh at his boldness, "I see that you never change." You smirked at Tommy, who had just shrugged his shoulders at your remark.

Your ears perked up when you heard Sarah giggling as she watched your interaction with Tommy. For a moment, you had totally forgotten where and what you were doing while talking with Tommy. You glanced at Sarah briefly before looking at Tommy again.

"She's your daughter?" You asked Tommy.

"Ew, no." Sarah scrunched her face in a disgusted way at Tommy. Tommy rolled his eyes at Sarah; you could tell they had a slight sibling-like relationship. From the realisation of their age, you knew that Sarah could not have been Tommy's daughter. 

"This is my dad!" She told you proudly as she slid her hand into Joel's. 

Your eyes slowly moved up to see Joel staring at you with an unreadable gaze. You used to be able to tell what he was thinking just by looking at him, but the time apart had faded your ability to do so. 

You did not know that he had a daughter. You wouldn't have known because you had cut off contact with him and the people who had wronged you after you left. After a few years, when you had moved on with the past, you were tempted to know how he was doing, but you did not bother to do anything about it, afraid of what feelings might come to the surface.

You wondered who Sarah's mom was, and guessing her age, you assumed that Talia might have been the one. Talia was the cause of your nightmare in high school. Thinking about what she did always made your blood simmer with hatred. You could forgive Joel, but Talia was that mean bitch that would take you so much longer to make peace with. With Sarah coming around, you assumed that Joel must have made her his wife, and it almost made the food that was processed in your stomach come back up your throat.

"I-I didn't know that," you tried to hide your surprise but the way your voice strained at the start was obvious to anyone. Your eyes went back and forth between him and Sarah. Finally, you could see the unmistakable similarities between them as they stood side by side. 

You squatted down in front of Sarah, gazing up at her with newfound adoration. "So you're a Miller, huh?" A soft smile on your face as you stated the information that you had just learned.

"Sarah Miller," she nodded her head.

"Well, I should have asked for your last name. You looked so familiar when I saw you that time," you tilted your head as you slowly traced her face with your eyes.

"I did?" She looked up at Joel for a few seconds, and you followed her gaze. Joel was standing still, eyes darting between you and Sarah. 

"I'm way prettier, though." She blurted out after turning back to you.

You involuntarily snorted, hearing her comparison with Joel. "Of course you are," you beamed at her confidence which she definitely did not inherit from her dad, "but you both have the same distracting smile." 

"What does that mean?" She furrowed her brows.

"It means that you have a beautiful smile, just like your dad when he was your age." You gently poked her cheeks with your index fingers, which made her smile.

Both of you were smiling to each other when Emma reminded you to quickly take the pictures. You stood up and held your hand out at Sarah, who gladly took it to follow you, standing in front of the camera.

"Okay, what serious pose do you wanna do?" 

Sarah crossed her arms without hesitation and puffed out her chest as best she could. She lifted her chin up, pursing her lips with knitted brows to seem fierce. You smirked at her actions, finding her adorable, before striking the same pose beside her. 

The second one was a fun pose. She had you piggyback her, and the two of you were laughing as the photographer caught the moment. Your eyes flicked at Joel and Tommy, who were looking on behind the photographer. Joel was staring at you with a forlorn look, which you did not miss before he tensed up when he caught you looking at him. 

"Good. Now, with the family." The photographer said, turning to Joel and Tommy.

The Miller brothers stepped forward to stand beside you, one on each side. Sarah was standing in front of you with your hands on her shoulders. Your heart started to beat faster as Joel came near you. He put a certain distance between you both when he stood beside you. 

"Closer, please." The photographer gestured with one hand at Joel and ordered him to stand closer towards you. 

Joel reluctantly took a step closer, which resulted in his arm brushing against yours. That made you stand still as you felt tingles running up your arms to your neck. Sarah turned her head slightly from the instinctive tightening grip of your hands on her shoulders. You relaxed your hands in a flash when you realised that you could have hurt her. 

"One, two, three!" The photographer raised his voice slightly, and you heard the camera clicking away. He stopped and lowered the camera, not satisfied with your expression.

"You gotta smile," He portrayed his own smile, looking at you and Joel. 

You turned your head to glance at Joel, and you saw him looking at you from the corner of his eyes when he noticed your movement. In an instant, you looked back at the front to see that the photographer was ready to continue taking photos. This time, you smiled without fail. 

Once it was done, Sarah turned around to say goodbye. You bent down slightly with open arms, and she gladly reached around you to snuggle against your chest. With warmth enveloping your heart, you closed your eyes and rested your chin on her head, taking in the sweet moment with her.

Tommy looked at both of you with eyes representing relief. He remembered you fondly because he regarded you as his older sister. You had come over to the house often to play with him and, oftentimes, look after him when Joel was not around. Unlike his older brother, you were gentle and kind to him. He was 11 when you left, and it broke his heart that his caring older sister was moving away. He blamed Joel for it for a while and showed resentment towards him. He heard rumours about what had happened from the kids in the neighbourhood who went to the same high school as you and Joel. He didn't know the truth of it all until he was grown enough to learn about the whole story from Joel.  

Tommy took a peek at Joel, who was standing beside you. He could tell that Joel had missed you too, even though he had not said it out loud for the past 12 years. He did not have to because with one look in his eyes, Tommy could feel his longing. He knew that his brother still felt guilty about what had happened, but all that he wanted was that the both of you could make up for it because he missed his family before the emotional hurricane happened. 

You cleared your throat from the awkwardness after Sarah held her dad's hand again.

"So, y'all heading straight home after this?" You tried to find the courage to look at Joel, who was already staring at you but failed to do so, finding comfort in Tommy instead.

"We're going to the hospital to visit Nana," Sarah blurted out which made you snapped your head towards her with a frown on your face.

"Sarah—"Joel quickly

"Nana is in the hospital?" Your voice was high-pitched when you took in the new information. You were still frowning when you shifted your gaze to Joel.

"You don't need to worry about it." Joel tried to dismiss it, but you were obviously not satisfied with his answer.

"What happened to Nana?" You took a step closer to him, which caused him to instinctively move a step away from you.

"Nothing." He avoided looking at you and gripped Sarah's hand tighter, pulling her away to escape. You stood there, watching him leave.

Tommy hesitated to move as he witnessed what had just happened. He touched the side of your arms to lessen your worry. Then, reaching into his pocket, he took out a folded piece of paper and handed it to you.

"There's my number in there, so feel free to call anytime. You can ask me about anything, and I will try my best to answer it. I miss you, sis. It's great to see you again." Teary-eyed, Tommy opened his arms slightly, wanting to hug you after 12 long years.

You welcomed him by wrapping his neck with your arms, tip-toeing slightly from his height. His grip around you was tight as he swayed you from side to side. 

"I miss you too, baby boy," you whispered in his ears, tears lingering on the edge of your eyes.

"I'm not a baby," he argued with an annoyed tone, just like when he was younger, fighting that he was just a boy and not a baby.

"You're still a baby to me." You pulled back with a tight-lipped smile, not wanting to cry, while you looked at his 24-year-old face. 

Tommy let you go and returned to a mischievous look, "Call me, okay?" You nodded. "I'll see you around." He winked before jogging away to catch up with his brother and niece.   

next part

[meazalykov]

she was the golden girl

uswnt x (romantic) aitana bonmatí x (platonic) fridolina rolfo x uswnt!reader

summary: what happened in a world where reader plays in the 2023 World Cup after winning the 2019 World Cup?

warnings: tiny bit of angst and sadness, google translated spanish.

part two (part one here)

I remembered when I stood on the french pitch, surrounded by the deafening cheers of the crowd, sometimes I can’t believe that it happened. Tears welled up in my eyes as I hugged my best friend Mallory, threatening to spill over as a whirlwind of emotions flooded my mind. 

My hands trembled as I clutched the World Cup trophy tightly to my chest, feeling the weight of my team's triumph. The third goal in the world cup was scored by me, the youngest goalscorer in a Women’s World Cup final. The journey to this moment had been grueling, filled with sacrifices, sweat, and endless dedication. But looking back, all the pain and hardship were worth it.

Before the World Cup, the Champions League medal hung proudly around my neck, a testament to the skill and hard work I’ve displayed on the field. At the time, Lyon was the club of my life. I believed that I would’ve never left the french institution, extending my contract as much as I possibly could’ve. The memories of each game, each goal, each victory rushed back to me, overwhelming my senses.

And then there was the Ballon d'Or many months after both competitions, the ultimate recognition of my individual excellence. To be acknowledged as the best, only at the age of 19 years old, was a dream I had hardly dared to entertain. Yet there I was, being the second woman holding the prestigious award in my small hands, my name etched into football history forever as I stood beside Lionel Messi who received the men’s d’or. 

Surrounded by my teammates, coaches, and supporters, I felt a surge of gratitude and humility. This moment wasn't just about me; it was about the collective effort of everyone who had believed in my skills along the way. I will never forget it.

Four years later, It's 2023. I am 23 years old and still impressing the fans around the World. However, the scars of my ACL injury were still fresh, a constant reminder of the hurdles I had overcome to be here after the harsh 2022 year.

Playing for Lyon had once been a dream come true. I’ll never forget that experience. When I signed to Lyon from Portland Thorns at the age of 18, I was overwhelmed in joy. I needed that new challenge, and that challenge earned me the best awards, collectively and individually. But, the fallout from my December 2021 injury had left a bitter taste in my mouth. The club I had once called home had felt more like a distant memory as I felt forced to make the difficult decision to part ways and start a new life in the sunny Spanish city.

Now, I wore the red and blue Barcelona jersey onto the pitch. The transfer left me heartbroken, at first, now I felt a renewed sense of purpose. The road to recovery after my ACL injury in France had been long and arduous, filled with doubts and setbacks. Sometimes, I believed that my prime occurred at the age of 19, instead of the predicted 24-30 years old. Yet here I am, defying the odds once again to represent my country on the world stage in two months.

Sometimes the memories of my victories with Lyon and the United States lingered in the back of my mind, serving as both motivation and a reminder of what was at stake. The Champions League trophy I had lifted with Lyon and the World Cup I had claimed with the United States were testaments to my talent and resilience. But now, I lifted the Champions League trophy with Barcelona. 

After scoring the second goal of the final, with Patricia before me and Fridolina afterwards, the gold hung beautifully around my neck. It was my fourth time I've felt such a high amount of glory, but the happy tears still came as if it were the first. 

A month later, I am on a fourteen hour flight from Los Angeles to Wellington, New Zealand. As The plane soared through the clouds and I sat in my business class seat, my hands gripping the armrests tightly and my heart pounded in my chest.

“Y/n?” I took out my airpods when I heard the faint sound of my name coming from outside of them. I turned to my right and saw my teammate and captain, Lindsey, looking at me with a confusing look. 

“Hey.” I joked, pretending like my stress wasn’t visible for everyone to see. 

“Are you okay?” Lindsey asked. In my head, I debated on if I wanted to lie and say yes, just so I didn’t have to burden her with my stress. However, she’s known me for many years, the woman would notice my lie from miles away. 

“Not really. I’m just–a bit nervous.” I swallowed. The blonde girl nodded her head in understanding as she rested her arm beside mine. 

“That's understandable. Is it the competition that's bothering you? I mean– we are defending champions so we have a lot to prove.” Lindsey asked. I took a deep breath as my mind shifted to a particular person from my Barcelona team. 

“No– It's about–um.” I stopped speaking. I didn’t want her to cloud my head during the competition, as we both promised ourselves that we would play as rivals, not lovers. 

“Aitana?” Lindsey questioned, but yet finished what I would’ve said. I noticed my head as my face was plastered with sadness.

“yeah.” I mumbled. The Lyon midfielder looked at me with a questionable look, wondering if there were problems between the Spanish girl and I. 

“I mean– there's no problem between us. However we prioritize football first you know? we both agreed that during the competition, we wouldn’t talk much.. just so we can focus on this.” I ranted. I’m not stressed because of a possible match between Spain and the United States, I know that I’ll miss the shorter woman a lot. Also, what if we stop talking and a third factor might influence our relationship moving forward? 

“That's good that you’re prioritizing us– You shouldn’t feel nervous about your relationship because this will give you time to miss each other– things will go back to normal once the world cup is over.” Lindsey patted my shoulder in sympathy, I smirked as my nervousness started to subside. 

A month later, as I stepped up to the penalty spot, the weight of the world seemed to rest upon my shoulders. We finished the match against Sweden 0-0 and after extra time, we had to go into a penalty shootout. The stadium roared around me, a cacophony of cheers and chants from both sides echoing in my small ears. Nerves danced in my stomach, threatening to consume me with doubt and mistakes.

With a deep breath, My eyes focused on Zećira Mušović standing between me and the goal. She did great throughout the game and has the reflexes to stop my shot. Determination burned in my eyes, she saw it too. 

As I approached the ball with speed, the tension in the air was palpable but I couldn’t care. Every step felt like an eternity as my foot sent the ball soaring towards the goal. Mušović dove in desperation, but my ball went directly to the middle as she dove left. The ball crashed into the back of the net, eliciting a deafening roar from the crowd and from my teammates. 

My dimples on my cheeks showed as I am happy to make the penalty. Being substituted on the pitch after halftime, I tried my best to score but my shot on goal was overturned by VAR. Apparently, my body was offside. 

Now, my arms wrapped the bodies of Sophia Smith and Megan Raphinoe as I looked ahead at Kelley O’hara. My heart raced as I stared at her white colored cleats. She needed to score this, or else Sweden had the opportunity to win the knockout. 

She Missed. My heart dropped to my stomach as I looked at the Swedish players with rising confidence and opportunity. Hurtig took the shot and Alyssa blocked it over the line. This caused a debate among the crowd. Deep down, I knew Sweden made it. They’ve won. However, VAR was the only hope which would have proved me wrong. 

Unfortunately, I was right. Sweden emerged victorious in the penalty shootout, their celebration serving as a bitter reminder of the heartbreak that awaited my teammates and I. 

No, No, NO! I thought to myself as I felt the moisture in my eyes start to take place. Immediately, my mind did a flashback to the 2019 World Cup Final. Being 19 years old and happy as my small, yet muscular, arms held the heavy World Cup trophy. 

With a heavy heart, I broke away from my teammates and looked among the Americans in the stands. My shaky hands clapped to the fans in the stands, my facade of strength crumbling with each step she took. Cameras could capture my weak struggle to stay strong as the Swedish crowd rightfully celebrated. 

Turning around, walking back towards the Americans who were on the team, my knees collapsed on the grassy pitch, tears streamed down my tired face. This was the worst that the United States had completed in a World Cup. What went wrong? 

I wanted to stand up so badly, but I didn’t. Shame and Defeat took over my body which laid in the grass. What is my family in the crowd thinking? What are the USWNT fans thinking? What are my fans thinking?... my tears cried out more when I wondered what Aitana was thinking. 

After ten minutes of darkness in my eyes, covered by my hands. A comforting presence enveloped my body. I recognized the floral smell mixed with a tint of sweat. I looked up from my hands and saw Fridolina, my teammate from Barcelona and now my opponent who won the Round of 16. 

“You did so good, Don’t beat yourself up over this!” Fridolina spoke to me first as her thumbs wiped over my teary eyes. I felt comfort but a small amount of envy was inside of me, I wanted to win so badly. 

“Congratulations Frido.” The Swedish girl took her hands and helped me stand up as she gave me a tight hug. Aitana, Frido, and I are a trio back in Barcelona. In fact, she helped Aitana and I confess our feelings to each other. 

“Thank you! Just know that I am proud of you, she is proud of you too. Even if you aren’t proud of yourself.” The 29 year old said as my eyes stained her yellow covered shoulders. I knew she meant Aitana when she said “she”. However, I didn’t know where the Spanish woman was at the moment and what she was thinking. 

“Just go be-beat Japan. Okay?” I said through a crack in my voice. I found solace in the embrace of my friend. I might’ve lost but I am not a bitter person, now I want to see my club teammates have a good World Cup like I’ve once experienced.

As we exchanged jerseys, the voice in my head kept reassuring myself that I'll come back stronger than ever in 2027. 

Just a week later, most of my American teammates left Australia and went back home. However, my teammate Kristie and I decided to stay back. Kristies had a girlfriend who played on a different international team like I did, so we wanted to support them as they’re advancing to the semi-finals. 

Witnessing my Barcelona teammates play each other in the Spain vs Sweden match was intense. Standing beside Aitana’s parents, I wore a basic dark green t-shirt with 501 mid-thigh levi shorts. This is the first time I've met them as her girlfriend and they’re sweet people. We celebrated Spain’s win against Sweden and my heart would have exploded in happiness. My girlfriend will experience a World Cup final! 

On August 20th, after an intense match and a lovely goal from Olga Carmona, Spain won the World Cup! The feeling was bittersweet for me. I am happy for my girlfriend but subconsciously, I knew I wanted it to be me with the United States. However, I brushed that feeling aside since I needed to be happy for my lover. 

“Aitana ¡Estoy tan feliz por ti!” We both ran towards each other and hugged. I feel her lightly kiss the side of my head as I inhale her scent. Being able to feel her embrace after a month apart filled the small void in my heart.

“¡Esto es tan irreal, ahora sé cómo te sentiste hace tantos años!”  (This is so unreal, now I know how you felt all those years ago!) Aitana smiled. The smile on my face struggled to stay as a small frown, which I tried hard to conceal, plastered on my face for a quick second. I don’t think she noticed. 

“Lo siento por lo que ocurrió. En el fondo esperaba que fuéramos nosotros dos quienes nos enfrentaríamos en la final.” (I'm sorry for what happened. Deep down I hoped that it would be the two of us who would face each other in the final.) Aitana said as she understood my defeat in the Round of 16. 

“Aquí también. Sólo debes saber que todavía estoy muy feliz por ti, a pesar de mi derrota.” (Here too. Just know that I am still very happy for you, despite my defeat.) I said as I admired the goal medal that sat perfectly on Aitana's chest. She gave me a sympathetic smile before hugging me again. 

“¡Te amo!” Aitana whispered into my ear. 

“Te quiero más” I smiled back as I relaxed into her arms. 

<3

[lookingfts]

Friday Fic Rec 9/6

Thanks for your submissions! Here are the recs for our first week. (Titles are links to each fic)

All the magic we made by @iwishyouwouldstop

"I'm always shocked this fic doesn't have 1000 kudos. It's so damn good."

Description: Kate and Anthony grow up together, learn to harness their magic together and are certain nothing can tear them apart. Until something does. Now they are strangers who occasionally publicly humiliate each other in between finding means to survive in a world that is increasingly hostile to their kind. Then Anthony commits the ultimate betrayal and Kate's retribution results in a life-threatening curse that forces them to work together.

Status: WIP (18/?) Rating: E

Love Doesn't Burn. by magicalmenagerie

"This fic isn’t finished, and the author hasn’t updated it since 2023, but it’s still one of my favorites. I love how it mixes the past and the present, and how the two characters were involved during the worst phase of their lives and then reconnect when they’re more mature."

Description: Anthony is trying to forget his past. Kate is trying to remember as much as possible. They’re both too young to know what they fall into is not love. Until much later, they finally do. (A second chances au riddled with miscommunication, infatuation, and incomprehensible philosophical musings)

Status: WIP (11/14) Rating: E

The Hope That Keeps You and One Last Weekend by @helenakwayne

"They have very different vibes but they’re both soo good and I think they’re less known fics in the fandom. I would say read the hope that keeps you if you’re looking for something more fun and fluffy, and one last weekend if you want angst (with a happy ending of course)."

Description: The Hope That Keeps You: Kate Sharma loves football because her father loved a certain West London club, so she made it her job. Anthony Bridgerton loves football because his father loved a certain West London club, so he bought it—or at least some of it. They’re all supporting the same side, so there should be nothing but harmony, right? It’s not like they unnecessarily complicate everything for no reason.

One Last Weekend: On the weekend of Simon Basset’s and Daphne Bridgerton’s wedding, Anthony Bridgerton and Kathani Sharma try to finally get what they both need after years of pursuing what they thought they wanted.

Status: Both Complete Rating: E

I'd Give All I Have, Honey (If You Could Stay Like That) by @newtonsheffield

"23 year old Anthony is a himbo and causes a LOT of tears for Kate but ends perfectly."

Description: The one constant in Anthony Bridgerton's life was Kate Sharma. They'd spent their entire childhoods together, she was as part of him that could never leave him. But the time to grow up came sooner than he thought it would. And he doesn't know why the sight of men queueing outside the Sharma's townhouse makes him sick to his stomach.

Status: Complete Rating: T

LFTS rec: A Devil's Love by FormerlyIR

Someone asked me about a mafia fic recently, and my mind went straight to this masterpiece. I had to reread it and honestly - it was even better than I remembered. Crazy hot passion wrapped in the most creative, evocative prose.

Description: When Kate's sister goes missing, she gets herself a waitress job at the Pebble Lounge to track her down, working under London’s seedy underbelly to find the only person she has left in this world to love. And Anthony Bridgerton? No matter how alluring and distracting he may be, he’s just a means to an end, his life defined by his family business built on corruption. Kate won’t dance to that tune. She’s just trying to find her sister.

Status: Complete Rating: E

Thanks for your submissions! This will be a weekly thing, so keep your recs coming, and I'm open to suggestions about the format!

[drdemonprince]

So, I (a trans guy) am kind of coming to terms with the fact that I might be more gay than bisexual after all. Where I live, the queer community is split pretty definitively between the "women, non binary and trans people" (or FLINTA*, if you're familiar with that horrible term) and the gay male community. While I have lots of problems with the former, it is kind of the community I am in, mostly because it has felt safe during my transition. It still feels safe, but not really comfortable. I want to feel like I am part of the gay male community, especially if I mostly want to date queer men in the future.

I am like, so scared of existing in any gay male spaces. When I tried being in them pre T, I felt like an imposter. When I travelled to the US a few years ago, the only place my then partner (also on T) and me were misgendered consistently was in gay bars (in a lot of famous "gay friendly" cities). All of this has left me with a sense of humiliation and not-belonging that gets reactivated every time I even think of stepping into one again, even if I am fairly certain I would not get this reaction now.

How do I get past the shame that is attached to my previous experiences and learn to actually enjoy myself there?

So, I believe that you have the order of operations wrong here. You don't get past shame and then go out to these gay spaces -- you go out to those gay spaces and then overcome (some) of your shame. And that shame may live with you forever in some form. You can still have a worthwhile life with it.

Go to the gay bars. There are many different kinds of them, all with wildly different energies and clientelle, and it is normal and boring and blase for trans guys to be at each and every single one of them.

One way that many newbies unwittingly screw up is by going to the most circuity, dance-y kinds of gay bars that tend to be filled with young, thin, rich, superficial people -- and then they mistake the meanness of that crowd for the meanness of all gays, or interpret the meanness as a sign they are not accepted by "the gay male community."

There is no singular gay male community. There are in fact a wide variety of subcultures with their own beauty standards, stylistic choices, interests, and norms. And there's a lot of cliquishness and mean girl behavior among people who have decided they are high rank in any particular small subculture, don't get me wrong. But you don't have to believe in any of it. They're just coping with their own history of marginalization and rejection by trying to become a new ruling class within their own tiny pond. You can laugh it off as the work of kind of sad, small thinking and just enjoy yourself and talk to people who are not assholes.

So, go to the leather bar. Go to a pup night. Go to an old-timers bar filled with gays over 60 (they will be nice to you and buy you drinks, I promise). Go to a gay bar that's casual and nerdy, with arcade machines and pub trivia. Go to a drag bar on a weekday night and meet some of the newer queens who are still trying to find their chops. And yes, go to the DJ sets and dance clubs all you like, but don't let what a few snatched bitchy 22-year-olds (or insecure former twink 42 year old real estate agents) get you feeling insecure. They're doing that shit because they are insecure.

Bring a friend. Talk to someone who seems nervous and alone on the side of the dance floor, too. Wear an outfit that will get some compliments. Nurse a drink at the bar and trawl grindr to see if anyone seems worth talking to. Join a dungeon or a gay running group. Attend a gay men's support group at your local lgbt center. Meet a ton of people and just get yourself out there, and quickly you will realize that your mind has wildly over dramatized how much you stand out or how much anybody cares.

Fat gays, disabled gays, older gays, Autistic gays, nerdy gays, poor gays, Black and brown gays, immigrant gays, they all feel like they do not belong and are not welcome too. Find them and be kind to them and hold onto them. Notice who is nice and warm with you, but also don't read into it too much if some people are just neutral. Eventually you will figure out what you like doing, which spaces you enjoy inhabiting, and who you want to be there with -- and then you'll have some fun.

[seinfelt]

The Gamesman

Due to a miscommunication, Jerry gets booked to play a couple nights at a goth jazz club. After his first set completely bombs—so disastrously that not a single person laughs even once and many even boo him and shout "this isn't music!"—he finds himself so distraught and depressed that all he can talk about is how "the Woe Clef killed comedy!"

Kramer finds an old Nintendo Entertainment System in a trash can on his way home from riding the escalators at Macy's. Jammed inside of it is a Tetris game cartridge, which he is unable to dislodge despite his best efforts with a butter knife he'd been carrying around in his back pocket. Back at his apartment he hooks it up and turns it on and discovers he can't stop playing. Ignoring the occasional ringing phone and knock at the door, he stays glued to the screen, amassing a higher and higher score.

George keeps misusing the phrase "it takes two to tango", to the increasing agitation of everyone around him. Jerry rants to him about his humiliating experience at the Woe Clef, and how they canceled his second performance. "The Woe Clef doesn't even know what comedy is!" he wails. George nods sagely and tells him, "you know, it takes two to tango."

Desperate for someone other than George to talk to about his grievance, Jerry finally forces his way into Kramer's apartment and discovers him leaning so precariously forward at the edge of his recliner that it's tipping off its back legs. He tries calling out to him, "I've been canceled by the Woe Clef," but Kramer's focus never once leaves the TV. "That's great, Jerry," he mutters dreamily. Exasperated, Jerry storms out, slamming the door so hard it startles Kramer into a reflexive flinch. The movement is just enough to tilt his center of balance far enough forward that he flips his chair on top of himself and ends up pinned beneath, landing with his face pressed down on the Nintendo's controller. Panicking, he begins to struggle, but realizes that making certain facial expressions allows him to control the game just fine. Stuck like some sort of upholstered turtle, he continues his marathon gaming session for hours until his score grows high enough to crash the game. Finally snapped out of his captivation, he struggles to free himself, wiggling back and forth until the chair falls sideways between him and his coffee table. The resulting tremor knocks his television off its stand and onto the floor, and the linear alignment of objects causes Kramer and his toppled belongings to blink several times and disappear.

While flipping through the channels, George catches a scene from an old movie where a woman dances the tango with two men. His jaw drops and he falls off the couch, then scampers into the secret second bedroom he keeps hidden behind a bookshelf. He pulls a tarp off a whiteboard revealing an elaborate equation and assesses it for a while before adding a ">" next to the "=" to the left of the number 2 on line 18. On a nearby table, a jar filled with strange black slime suddenly begins to shimmy rhythmically. "Finally!" bellows George with a maniacal cackle, "the dance dance revolution can begin!"

Elaine is confused but flattered when Bill Clinton drops out of the Presidential race and pledges his full support for her candidacy.