#power dynamics through the roof

[vinnyvamppp]

To Be Desired

⭐: No Goggles Mark, Mohawk Mark, #17 Mark/Sinister Mark, Mentions of Invincible (requested!).

Synopsis: Variants of your childhood best friend spawn across the globe, and you find yourself in the crossfire of their previous lovers. What happens when you experience the parallel pleasure they offer?

Warnings: Power Struggles, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Morally Grey, Nipple Play, Fingering, Pussy Eating, Overstimulation, Public Sex, Squirting, Rough Sex, Switch!Reader, Switch!Invincible Variants, Plot changes for convenience, Matching Freaks, Position Changes, Porn w a Plot, etc.

Invincible Variants x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5,239 (PART TWO HERE)

“You won’t believe what just happened, oh man!” Mark exclaimed with glee; an unfamiliar look of pride swam within his irises. It was the night he received his powers; a deep crater buried itself into your driveway from his failed landing. “What?” you questioned, prying your front door open as he entered. There were scuff marks littered across his naked upper body, battered and bruised from his knightly adventure. “It was incredible. I—I flew,” he explained, his hand gesturing excitedly. This was a dream of his; he would craft makeshift suits and detail desired escapades to save the world. However, for it to come true was another story.

“No way! This… this is a funny joke,” you sputtered. One doesn’t usually acquire powers at random, but in this dimension, who knows? “No, really. I took a huge leap off my roof, not really expecting anything,” he interrupted to soften the already ridiculous landing of his story. “You know, and I just took off.” The topic was so exhilarating; the thought of questioning him hadn’t dawned upon you. He leaned against the back of your couch, crossing his arms as you two reminisced.

“Wait—why were you jumping from the roof anyway? What if nothing happened and you fell?” you questioned with a raised brow. “I know, I know, it’s stupid. But I was curious and decided to give it a try,” he rationalized quietly, fingers nervously scratching his nape. “Aw… I want powers now,” you feigned sadness as you sulked. It was your attempt at being amusing, but truthfully, you felt left behind. Was it envy? Was it the need to feel important? Was it the fear of him leaving you behind to begin his journey as a hero? You didn’t know at the time. His expression became tinged slightly with guilt. “Hey, don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get powers soon,” he reassured you, but it was too humorous to be sincere.

“Yeah… soon. Real funny, wasn’t it?” you said to yourself as your body perched against a rooftop. It was the second day of the Mark variants ravaging Earth like their playground. The once-majestic towers now stand as skeletal frames, their glass windows shattered. Debris litters the streets, a tragic mix of shattered concrete and twisted metal, and the air hangs heavy with the scent of smoke and ash. Heroes formed makeshift shelters and sifted through rubble for survivors.

The Mark you once knew was head over heels for Atom Eve. It was no secret; he was a lost puppy whose ears would perk at the sound of his name on her tongue. Utterly devoted. Sickeningly in love. You were the very last to discern his truth. The two were written in stone, but it left a bitter taste in your mouth that you had long since gotten over. Until now. You were late to the news of the world's destruction. A strangely familiar face appeared on the news, a version of Mark that made your chest tighten. Within your family, a strange ability was acquired—a power bred through evolution to ensure survival in a world full of the unknown. Once in a lifetime, through a series of visions, you would discover a pivotal moment in time to peer through. That moment was now. Eighteen variants were loose internationally, each with their own tragic story and love interests. Six had dated or lost their Atom Eve, five had slain their worlds' Amber, and six had been devoted to you.

Helping where you could, you began assisting in fighting off the weaklings who figured now was the best time to attack Earth. Micro tears riddled your uniform as you tore through them mercilessly, all through a look of pity. There were days you'd resent this “job” you'd granted yourself, the little recognition and appreciation you'd receive from the public. How selfish of them—and you. You wanted an excuse to have this world fair alone without a need to rebel when no one would notice. As luck would have it, a voice suddenly dawned behind you, his body floating midair and adorned with the appearance of your dearest friend.

Mohawk Mark

“Oh, shit… I know you,” he rasped, his expression twisted into a cocky grin. His stature and pose were that of confidence—and a man who caused insurmountable damage to those he met. “You look just like her,” he continued, his feet finding purchase on the ground as his stride increased. “Sorry, you've got the wrong one—try finding her—” Just as you spoke, static buzzed in your skull—a low crackling hum that drowned out the edges of the memory before it fully formed. It was there—just beyond reach—shrouded in white noise.

The harder you focused, the more the static swelled, but for a moment, the interference cleared. A voice—the ghost of a feeling—and just as quickly, it was swallowed again. You understood the gist; he was indeed one you would find yourself tangled with. “Looks like you’ve been through some tough shit—mind if I join you?” Without waiting for a response, he lunged forward, grappling you in a powerful embrace. His intent wasn't one of danger but instead of safekeeping despite his demeanor. Reflexes took over as you slammed against his cranium with the strength you could muster—effectively knocking him back.

"Fuck, you're a feisty one," Mohawk Mark growled, his breath hot against your ear. "I like that shit. Let's see how you handle this." His chuckle was condescending—yet a thrill shot through you. “‘Won't be handling shit,” you quipped before biting into his neck—just rigid enough to draw blood. He groaned, his flight knocking you two back into an alleyway.

Similarly to your Mark, he seemed attracted to strength, his veins pumping with lust rather than adrenaline. Holding a firm grasp of your jaw, his lips collided with yours in a searing and blood-stained kiss. The muscle of his tongue forcefully parted your lips as he sought to taste you against his own. Finding yourself against the wall, your legs wrapped around the width of his waist—your ass snugly hovering over his pelvis.

He pulled away every few seconds to watch your expression succumb to your selfish wants. Sex with the enemy was enticing—and you weren’t letting him escape any time soon. “You planned this?” you murmured between the saliva-ridden kisses. “That would be telling. You know enough if you’re agreeing to this.” His voice grew to tease as he licked his lips—mirroring his satisfaction before peppering kisses down your exposed neck.

His version of sex was rough, with small increments of romance—only reserved for the best prize. With muffled groans, his teeth harshly nipped their way lower, his fingers tearing through the fabric of your suit. As he continued down your now-exposed cleavage, his tongue ran along the scantily clad lace of your bra. Staring up at you, he let out a mischievous snicker before his teeth snagged the cup and tore it from your chest—leaving it discarded on the ground.

“Shit… was fucking not enough? Had to ruin my clothes too,” you complained as your hips bucked against his pointedly. This earned a guttural grunt from the flesh of your breasts, as he heaved out a response. “You’ll forget about them anyway,” he dismissed as he continued until your panties were the last to be removed. The cool air dusted your wet cunt—its arousal seeping through your folds like honey. Its chill made you shiver—and like bees to nectar, his tongue feasted before his eyes.

Hoisting you up, your thighs rested against his shoulders as he knelt—the angle allowing his tongue to slip inside your already spasming pussy. An unusual pink hue dusted his cheek as he stared up at you in utter bliss. Your fingers dug into his forearms, your puffy folds pressed against his lips as he devoured you. With your head resting against the wall, your hips ground themselves relentlessly against his tongue.

"Mmm, shit, already soaking wet for me," he taunted, pumping his tongue in and out of your tight cunt. His tongue—rough and textured—lashed out to lap at your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. His groans sent mild vibrations through you as his fingers reached up to paw at your tits, nipples stiffened in the cold air. You couldn't help but moan as he ate you out with relentless intensity, his tongue plunging deep into your folds. His calloused hands roamed your exposed flesh—pinching and kneading your breasts, twisting your sensitive nipples until they grew numb.

His hands couldn't stop their exploration—they explored what he had lost many years ago. Sparks flew as his tongue circled against your clit—flickering the bundle of nerves with a speed inexperienced before. Every time you neared the precipice of your orgasm, his tongue would flatten as he sucked your clit—ruining the rhythm. You tugged his hair with a frustrated groan—and his eyes rolled into his skull with an amused moan.

Finally pulling away, he stood to his feet. His lips parted to speak when suddenly, “Hurry the fuck up,” you said curtly with exasperated gasps. With lidded eyes, a Cheshire grin settled across his features. “Yes, ma’am.” Prying his suit off, he palmed his dampening erection. For once he fell silent as anticipation ate away at you both. As he freed his cock from the confinement of his boxers, it slapped against his lower abdomen.

It stood with a veiny girth—the tip kissed a rosy red like his many mistresses' lipsticks. With a pleased hiss, he stroked himself briefly—eyes just barely losing focus from the buildup—before he plunged himself into you. Your pussy hugged him with a familiarity that felt like home—the painful stretch soon becoming one of bliss. His hips began to quicken—wanting to see your fucked-out expression like never before.

However, his greed overwhelmed him as the stimulation grew difficult to ignore. His usual grunts and growls diluted into groans and profanities. The alleyway echoed with the cacophony of moans that mingled in the air—inharmonious, yet emotion-filled as a flame flickered within your core. “I’ve waited so fucking long for this,” he grunted, a grin etched into his lips. “N-None of them—no ssslut compares to this. Only pussy I need—only woman I want.” A groan interrupted his sentence as your cunt contracted around him—swallowing him at the base.

That’s right—every harem formed and woman fucked was so he could ruin the image of you that plagued his mind in its grief. The vulnerability of it all made your toes curl—even if it wasn't much.

The fingers pawing at your breasts began kneading them like stress balls—until they were red. Truthfully, he missed every inch of you—not that he would admit that, especially since you weren’t exactly his. A high-pitched moan ripped from your throat as he continued to bounce you on his dick. Pre-cum coated your insides as the sounds of arousal grew louder—his balls tightening. With every thrust, he could see the air physically leave you—the scuff marks from brick marking your skin.

He could barely tell where to focus his eyes—on your tits or face? Both were gorgeous—but fuck, he should just kidnap you and take you home with him, right? “Fuuuuck, Mark… I’m g-go—” you groaned as your fingernails indented into his skin—a pain and pleasure-filled gasp crawling from his throat. “Fuck, yeah…” he said, his raspy voice cracking with the slightest whine. “Take it… s-shit, take it…!” It was a growl as his eyes fluttered shut to hide his eyes practically rolling around his skull. With a clenched jaw, his dick began to milk itself. The pleasure mounted as your impending orgasm washed your body in a sweat-breaking heat. Just as he came, your cunt spasmed—once he pulled out, something within snapped as an aroused gush squirted from you.

His groin was now coated in your scent, taste, and the result of your rough fucking. The pleasure racked your brain as tears threatened to spill over. Noticing this—and pleased with his efforts—he let out a short chortle, a hand coming up to swipe your folds and have a final taste. His expression turned into a feigned sob as he silently teased—his tip running a line between your folds and ass, resisting the temptation to fill your asshole with his seed. Once you two were settled from your high, he spoke up. “Had fun, babe.” Your eyebrow lifted at the newly coined pet name.

Suddenly, a muffled voice in his ear caught his attention. “Shit…” he muttered with an annoyed grimace at Angstrom ruining his amusement. “Go on,” you beckoned. “Not yours anyway—so no need to stick around.” It was a light jab—one he received with a satisfied smirk before taking flight. “Doesn’t matter—I’ll be back,” he replied curtly before disappearing into the horizon.

You stood there—naked—processing what just happened. "Shit, I need a new suit from my apartment.”

Variant #17 Mark (I wouldn't even keep you as a slave in my Empire!) Or Sinister Mark (personalities are similar in the comics, so imagine what you will.)

"You thought you could hide from me?" he said, peering down at you with a friendly grin for someone so domineering. Staring down at the man’s shadow, his cape billowed in the wind. Unlike the other Marks you’d caught a glimpse of, this one barely had a bruise on him. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he finished before he landed softly on the ground. As he approached, you remained still, eyebrows creasing into a frown. “I’m not—” You were abruptly cut off by a low voice as his head tilted to stare into your eyes. “Don’t play stupid. My version of you had the same power—but she resisted our cause.” His voice was tinged with pity as he frowned; he decided to take another route in his approach.

“I’ll tell you what—I’ll leave if you come with me,” he offered with an outstretched palm. You vehemently shook your head in disagreement. “I’m not going—it'll disrupt the timeline.”

“Why does that matter?” he asked.

“What makes you think I won't resist either…?” you retorted, causing his eyebrows to raise slightly in thought. “I’ll change your mind—and give you what you missed out on in my world.” It was such a matter-of-fact opinion—one rooted in a determination to outclass any obstacle that might deter him. Curiosity bested you the moment you turned to face the chaos erupting in the streets as a strong gust of wind obscured the debris. He was behind you. His fingers draped over your waist as he took flight—and to… your apartment? “I’ve been watching you for a while now… I know all about your preferences. Let’s have some fun, shall we?” His lips just barely grazed your ear.

Amongst the hands that roamed your body, a sense of longing lingered in every squeeze and grope. While being one of the strongest—and surely the most vile—his personality could be charming like your dimension’s Mark. Even if feigned for manipulation. He spun you around to face him, that polite smile etched into his face again as his body betrayed innocence. The erection forming within his costume became difficult to ignore—but he found a distraction. A touch, a handhold, and finally—a kiss.

“Let me show you what it's truly like to be satisfied.” His words were reassuring, yet they felt more directed toward his version of you rather than now. His tongue swept into your mouth, tangling itself in a wet heat as he sucked the air from your lungs. The warmth of his fingers spread across your cheek as his tongue attempted to delve impossibly deep. The taste was better than you imagined—not that you expected any less. If anything, finding him in a forgiving mood proved to be favorable.

His fingers shifted from your face to the back of your costume—in his attempt to be gentle, he tore the cloth from your body like tissue paper. In an instant, his costume was discarded in the corner, leaving him in snug boxers that hugged his dick. Before you knew it, you were pinned against the bed—a hand flush against your throat as he shrugged slightly. “Didn’t mean for that to happen,” he said, an amused huff exiting his nose as you exchanged knowing glances.

The remaining hand gently pried the panties from around your hips and down the length of your legs. His eyes fell upon the wet patch that seeped through the thin fabric—as the semblance of a pleased grin stretched across his lips. Focusing his attention once more, his fingers slowly parted your folds, watching as your velvety walls peeked through the slit. Its warm flesh was inviting—something he had yet to try since you retaliated so often against him at home. Just why couldn’t you be this welcoming? So willing to be corrupted? So… morally gray at the least.

Pressing two digits inside your warmth, he watched it conform to the size of his fingers. An obvious shiver ran through him with each moan that vibrated from your throat—as he imagined you hugging him and wrapped around his cock in plea. The sensations set your skin alight with gooseflesh—and each time you attempted to scurry away from his gift, the hold around your neck tightened ever so slightly. He was such a brat.

Your hips ground into his hand, clit colliding with his palm in gentle waves. As his fingers slowly retracted, his cock shyly peeked from the pocket of his boxers. His patience was running thin as he adjusted himself at your entrance—and slowly pushed through. A loud sigh escaped his lips as he bottomed out, his head falling backward as he quietly cursed under his breath. Mirroring his restlessness, your foot hooked around his lower back and pressed him deeper. A drawn-out moan echoed from your throat; he was barely holding on as he gnawed at his lip to contain himself. Reflexively, his hips stuttered before setting a relentless pace—pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes that hit all the right spots.

“Already so wet for me… pathetic. Fucking slut.” His words struck a nerve within—as you repulsively tightened around him, earning a whine. Your moans echoed through the room, mingling with the slap of skin against skin and Mark's grunts of pleasure. He hammered into you like a man possessed—his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he drove you toward climax.

The long thrusts stimulated every inch of his dick—the veins kissed with every grip of your cunt. “Did your version of me not do it for you?” you teased before taking a sharp breath at his relentless pace. “Y-You really don’t know when to be quiet,” he gritted. “But n-no… not like this. You're much better. I would take you to be a part of my empire.” He replied, his jaw tightening as his hips drilled into you with renewed conviction at the thought. A second you—not the one he’s attempting to keep as a slave for disobeying—but one he could trust to blindly follow his power. His grin grew wolfish as his other hand overlapped your throat—his gaze shifting between your bouncing tits and pleasured face.

The slight closure of your windpipe didn’t allow for much noise—but no matter, Mark began to sing like you’d never imagine. It was strange—the sound was much louder due to your silence as you clawed at his skin. His voice began to crack as his tightened jaw began to slack. "F—fucking incredible," he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction. "I knew… you'd be worth every s-second of c-...chasing you down," he sputtered as his length began to twitch inside you.

Seeing someone as strong as him unravel before you was a greater sense of accomplishment than becoming a hero itself. With a closed-lip groan, he began overstimulating himself with the effort to get you off. “Haaa… I’m c-close. Ugh…!” you muttered through strangled gasps—as the deprivation of air made you lightheaded and sensitive. Every nerve ending inside your cunt doubled as you went taut beneath him. “C’mon, fucking cum for me,” he heaved.

His thrusts became sloppy as he came inside without warning—doubling over as a consequence. An unfamiliar sensation painted your insides. You both saw stars as silence pierced the room—the slick produced coated his cock in a glaze. Through bated breaths, his fingers finally released their grip around you as you coughed out a response. “I have to admit… you’re hard to deny,” you said, momentarily spent as you lay before him. “Swee—” He was cut off by a voice in his ear.

It was Angstrom demanding his presence over the city. “What a nuisance,” were the final words you caught as he muttered under his breath. Every version of Angstrom was a hindrance to this Mark—nonetheless, he suited up to leave. “I’ll return—and you will join me,” he said confidently, as if there was no argument to be made. You nodded absentmindedly and sighed. Just what had you done?

No Goggles Mark

“Dude…! You’re so cool—what is that? I’ve never seen any powers like that in my world,” he said with an amused expression as he snickered at your agony. You stared up at him, your heartbeat suddenly quickening when meeting his gaze. A look of recognition flickered within his eyes. “Hey, I know you,” he said, his feet touching base on the ground as he approached you with a widening grin. “I’m not sure you know me exactly…” you replied, backing away as your eyes searched for a route to escape—his friendliness had truly taken you aback.

“Who do you work for?” he asked, words flying from his mouth without a care as he approached closer. “You're way stronger than the Guardians of the Globe dudes I fought.” He fought who?! A sense of dread filled you as a new series of questions plagued your mind. If this one could ruin the team to filth—then just how strong was he, and what exactly did he want? “I don't want to fight you, man,” you somewhat pleaded; he frowned with disapproval. “Fight? No, man… but it seems like you’re in trouble, dude.” The topic switched again—his gaze now behind you—as a flurry of aliens attempting their takeover waltzed through a portal. You didn’t have the heart to tell them it was a failed crusade before it began.

Taking a stride forward, a strong arm suddenly wrapped around your waist as you two were propelled to a lone-standing structure where steel beams and concrete floors remained. “Put me down,” you bruised him as you backhanded him into the metal beam. While he had a smile on his face, momentary irritation settled across his features. The painful sting ran to his cock. “Aw, what's the matter?” he asked, standing to his feet as you both came face to face once more.

“It would be hot, but I don't want to fight, dude. I’ve missed you. I promise I’ll be gentle… at first.” The delivery was more seductive—dropping an octave—as he approached you, hands outstretched and finding purchase against your hips. One thing other variants wouldn’t admit—was the supple touch of the right woman could caress their soul.

“I’m not the me you want,” you replied. “You can just be the one I have anyway,” he said. He was indeed serious—and while less terrifying than the other Marks you’d encountered, his strength was menacing nonetheless. “Then let’s see what other talents you’ve got.” Your response made his expression brighten with a new goal in mind. At that, the grin on his face widened as he leaned down and captured your lips in a fierce, dominant kiss.

His tongue forced its way into your mouth, battling yours for dominance as he ground his hips against yours. You two stumbled around the enclosure—footsteps echoing in the empty building. Mark’s hands cupped your ass, squeezing roughly as he whispered crude compliments into your ear. "Nice ass," he growled appreciatively, his fingers caressing the soft flesh. He couldn’t articulate it well—but you were truly beautiful in every universe—and he couldn’t wait to have his share.

Your fingers traveled up his muscled back as body heat pooled across your fingertips. Eagerness unlike any other began to rise as you longed to touch every inch of him. Hero costumes were peeled from one another, and you found his groping becoming progressively obsessive. His hardened cock stood awaiting stimulation as he bit back his urges—sacrificing the time to feel you once more.

Guiding him to the floor, you seated yourself against his lap—your legs hooked over his forearms. He was always too quick to finish battles, and that even applied to sex. Just the tip. That's what you two agreed upon. Sinking onto his cock—its girth filled you deliciously. The wet sound of arousal followed by his restrained groans filled you with delight; it was amusing to see a Viltrumite struggle to contain himself.

1… 2… 3… 4… 5… and 6! On every sixth shallow thrust, you would contract your muscles—gripping his dick like a vice as every vein received a kiss from the gods inside your cunt. It had him crazed—wanting more of your warmth than you were willing to give. “F—fuck, babe, you’re killin’ me,” he hissed with an unforeseen weariness shaking his voice. “Can I?” he started. “No.” His expression hardened at your words. “You’re ruining the—” Before he could finish, he inhaled sharply as his head fell back. “Am I…?” you asked with feigned curiosity. It was undulating in a rhythm that drove him wild. He groaned beneath you—his hands digging into his palms as he fought his urges to misbehave.

The sound of your ass slapping against his pelvis filled the air—mingling with your moans and cries of pleasure. Anything would be worth trading; he could watch his dick disappear within your cunt nonstop. His impending release redoubled his efforts—pounding into you with a ferocity that sent you hurtling over the edge.

The excitement overwhelmed him as he sheathed half his cock inside—the spreading warmth and moisture making his thighs quiver beneath you. His balls tightened, painfully so—that alone ripped a pornographic moan from him. If he could fuck you as desired, he wouldn’t be nearly as needy. Your combined moans echoed through the infrastructure—and you were certain that with the windows gone, someone could hear—but the thought was out of sight and out of mind. Pre-cum beaded down his length as it was smeared each time he entered your warmth. “M-Mark…” you muttered; he nodded fervently behind you as his jaw locked.

“Y-You ready for it, babe?" he asked with a faltering grin as sweat tickled his brows. Leaning your full body weight against him—you felt your orgasm building quickly. The pleasure reached new heights as you both milked each other dry for the sake of proving a point. Your body instinctively began to lurch forward as your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave. The tip of his cock was bedecked with a foam ring of cum. Mark would’ve begun convulsing had it not been for him carrying you—instead, his body stiffened as he let out a tight-lipped groan. You could’ve sworn you saw his toes curl too—but who knows? His pale skin was flushed a hue of red as his body thrummed with an aftershock.

Once you’d come down from your high, a satisfied grin beamed at you. "Dude, that was incredible," he murmured, a satisfied grin on his face. "We should do this again sometime," he said—as if this was some casual fling, not that you would mind.

Before you could respond, a message in his ear interrupted the conversation. “Ugh… this always happens; I have fun, and then—dude…” he sounded exasperated as he hurriedly redressed—reluctantly wishing you a botched farewell. “I like you. You’re coming with me.”

Feel free to request more lmao

MasterList ོ༘₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚

[edenarchives]

♯┆𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑 .ᐟ — 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Nanami betrayed you. Toji blackmailed you. Now you’re done playing nice. You’re not the girl who falls apart anymore—you’re the one pulling the strings. And if getting even means letting Toji ruin you? Then so be it. You’re not here to be saved. You’re here to win.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Blackmail, professor/student dynamic, emotional manipulation, power imbalance, dubcon, rough sex, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, overstimulation, creampie, aftercare, toxic relationship themes, revenge, infidelity mention, Megumi humiliation, emotional fallout. MINORS DNI.

𝐖𝐂: 𝟗,𝟓𝟎𝟎

It’s been three days.

Three long, aching, breathless days since you walked into Toji Fushiguro’s office thinking you could win—thinking that if you just stood your ground, said the right words, made him see reason, it would be enough to save Nanami. Enough to save yourself.

You thought you could hold your own.

That he’d listen.

That somehow, he’d care.

You should’ve known better.

Because the second that door shut behind you, it all slipped away.

Toji didn’t even look up at first. He was sitting at his desk like he’d been waiting there all morning, legs spread, coffee in hand, sleeves rolled up, collar open. He glanced at you from under thick lashes and smirked.

“This is blackmail.”

You stood in front of his desk with your arms crossed and your chest burning, trying not to let the tremble in your hands show.

His smile widened, lazy and amused. “Is it?”

“You can’t just manipulate people like this. You can’t hold this over our heads.”

Toji leaned back in his chair, completely unbothered. “I think you’ll find I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

“We’re not doing anything else,” you snapped. “Nothing. It’s over. There’s no story here. You don’t have a case. It was a mistake. We won’t be together again. On campus, off campus—ever.”

He chuckled, low in his throat. “God, you’re adorable when you’re righteous.”

You pressed your tongue to the roof of your mouth to stop yourself from screaming. “I’m serious. If someone’s going to take the blame, let it be me. Just leave Nanami the hell alone.”

“Why would I do that?” he said, cocking his head.

Your heart kicked, but you didn’t back down. “It was my fault too.”

“No,” Toji said, dragging the word out, savoring it. “You were just convenient. Cute, sure. But not the first.”

The blood drained from your face. “What?”

“You’re the latest,” he said casually, like he was listing the weather. “Not the first.”

You stared at him. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?” His smile stretched wider. “You really thought you were the first student Nanami’s ever fucked?”

Your stomach turned.

“He didn’t even know who I was,” you argued, voice rising. “We met through that site. It wasn’t… it wasn’t planned.”

Toji raised a brow, then leaned forward slowly, folding his arms over the edge of the desk. “That’s cute. But you know what’s funny about that?”

“Professors get the student lists before the semester starts. All of them. Names. Majors. Contact info. Photos. You think Nanami didn’t know who you were when he saw your profile?”

He didn’t wait for you to answer.

“You’re not some hidden gem,” he says. “You were on his desk months before he ever sent you that first message.”

“No,” you whispered. “That’s not true.”

Toji shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. But it wouldn’t be the first time.”

You blinked.

“What?”

A cruel glint flickered in his eyes.

“It’s his thing. Every semester—he picks someone. Some sweet little thing with straight A’s and something to lose. And then he waits. Times it right. Makes it look like fate. Makes you think you’re the one who started it. And when it happens, when you’re all wrapped up in it? He pretends to pull away. Pretends he’s ashamed. But really?”

He smirked.

“He’s watching you fall apart for him. Watching you crawl back. Every time he disappears, every time he tells you it’s wrong—he knows exactly what he’s doing.”

Your chest felt too tight to breathe.

“He gets off on it,” Toji said softly. “Watching you risk your future for his cock. Watching you beg. Watching you think it’s love when really, he just likes watching you squirm.”

You shook your head. “No. That’s not—he—he doesn’t…”

“He doesn’t love you,” Toji finished for you, leaning back again. “He loves what you’ll do to feel like he might.”

The words sat heavy between you.

He sipped his coffee like he hadn’t just cracked your entire world open.

And you stood there. Frozen. Because some part of you, even as you denied it, even as you fought it, was already starting to believe him.

Toji exhaled slowly, shaking his head like he was genuinely impressed. “He was careful. I’ll give him that. Never brought it onto campus. Always met them off-site. Never got caught.”

Then, a grin. “Until you.”

Your throat burned.

“You’re the one he fucked in his office,” he said, gesturing toward the walls around you. “You’re the one who made him forget to be careful. You’re the mistake.”

You looked down. Your hands were shaking again.

Toji tilted his head. “And now I get to use that. Or maybe I just let the old bastard hang himself with guilt. Watch his perfect career crumble while I sip my whiskey.”

He didn’t look angry.

He looked satisfied.

Like he’d already won.

Like he wasn’t threatening you—just explaining how this would go.

You stood there, staring at the floor, breath shallow in your lungs.

You blink.

The memory slips away, but not the feeling.

You can still hear his voice. Still see the smirk on his lips. You can still feel the way the floor dropped out beneath you when he said you weren’t the first. That Nanami had known. That maybe it was never real.

And now, three days later, the ache hasn’t dulled. But it’s changed. Hardened. You’re not shaking anymore. You’re not crying. You’re not sitting in your bed with your phone in your hand waiting for a message that isn’t coming.

You’re getting dressed.

Not soft. Not sweet.

You wear black. Something tight. Something that hugs your hips and bares your skin and makes you look like someone you don’t recognize anymore. You smear eyeliner over your lashes. You wear gloss that shines like a weapon.

You grab your bag.

And you walk to the admin building like your heart isn’t broken—like it’s been replaced by something sharp and dangerous and willing to bite back.

Because if this is the game?

You won’t be a piece.

You’ll be the fucking player.

Even if it means using the devil to destroy the man who broke you.

———

The admin building is quiet. Too quiet.

It’s the kind of stillness that makes you feel like you’re being watched, like the walls themselves know what you’re about to do. But your steps don’t falter. Your heels click across the floor, steady, sharp. You don’t hesitate when you reach the office door with his name printed in clean black lettering.

Vice Chancellor Fushiguro.

You knock once. Firm. Not out of politeness—but so he knows you’re coming.

The door swings open like he’d been waiting right behind it.

Of course he had.

He doesn’t look surprised to see you. Not even a little. He leans against the doorframe with his sleeves rolled up and his black shirt half-unbuttoned like it’s just another Wednesday. Like he didn’t spend the last few days tearing your entire sense of reality apart.

His eyes drag down the length of you—slow, heavy. Like he’s tasting the sight of you with every blink.

“Figured you’d come crawling back,” he says.

“I’m not crawling,” you bite.

You walk in without waiting for permission. Close the door behind you.

And this time—you lock it.

That makes him pause. His smile twists just slightly. Amused. Curious. Dangerous.

“Well well,” he murmurs. “Kinky.”

He pushes off the doorframe and moves closer, slow like he’s circling prey. “What are you here for, sweetheart?”

You stand tall. Your heart’s racing, but your voice stays level.

“I want to make a deal.”

He laughs—short and quiet, like he doesn’t take you seriously yet. “We already made one.”

“No,” you say. “You made a threat. I’m giving you an offer.”

That stops him.

He tilts his head. Says nothing.

You take a breath and keep going.

“You want leverage? Fine. You can have me. On your terms. However you want. But if you want me, then you don’t touch Nanami. You bury the recording. You never say his name again.”

The silence stretches.

He looks at you—really looks at you—like he’s trying to figure out what game you’re playing.

And then, slowly, a grin spreads across his face.

You don’t blink when he steps closer. When the space between you tightens. When the air turns heavy, electric, laced with something sharp and sour that sinks into your bloodstream.

Toji looks at you, really looks at you, and for a second he doesn’t smile. He just studies you—like he’s trying to decide whether you’re brave or stupid. Whether you’re bluffing or broken.

Then, finally, he speaks.

“After everything,” he murmurs, “you still wanna save him?”

His voice is low. Not mocking. Not amused. Just curious. And that’s worse.

You swallow. Don’t answer.

Toji hums like he already knows. Like he can see right through you.

“You think he’d do the same?” he asks, slower this time. “You think Nanami would lock a door for you? Offer himself up just to keep your name clean?”

Your jaw tightens.

He leans in closer, his breath brushing your cheek. “Do you think he’d beg for you, sweetheart?”

You want to say yes.

You want to scream it.

But the words get stuck somewhere between your ribs.

Because you don’t know anymore.

You don’t know.

And Toji sees it. Sees the flicker of hesitation. The second of silence that splits your chest in half.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs, stepping back, smile curling again. “You’re smart. But you’re not special.”

Your fingers curl into fists.

But you don’t run.

You don’t crumble.

You lift your chin again, sharp and angry.

“Then take it,” you spit. “Take me. Isn’t that what you’ve wanted this whole time?”

His smile is slow, eyes gleaming like a blade catching light.

He doesn’t answer. Not with words.

He steps forward—closer, closer—until there’s barely an inch between you, until your back is nearly brushing the edge of his desk and you can smell the coffee and smoke on his breath. His hand lifts, slow and deliberate, and for a second, you think he’s going to touch you.

But he doesn’t.

His fingers hover just beneath your chin, never making contact. His voice is low when it comes.

“You say that like you’re offering me something I haven’t already taken.”

Your breath catches.

He leans in slightly, mouth near your ear now, his lips just barely grazing the shell of it.

“Every time you walk around this campus with your thighs clenched and your mouth shut and your eyes all glassy like you’ve got something to confess—” His voice drops, dark and amused. “—that’s me. That’s mine.”

His breath is hot. Heavy. You don’t move.

“I don’t need to take you, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “You already gave yourself to me the second you locked that fucking door.”

His hand finally touches your jaw—just a graze of knuckles—and it’s humiliating how fast your body reacts. Heat blooms between your legs like it never left, like it’s been simmering under your skin since the first time he smiled at you with that knowing look. Your spine straightens, but your knees threaten to give out.

Toji watches the shift happen in real time.

“That’s more like it,” he mutters. “Go ahead. Be honest.”

His thumb traces your lower lip.

“You want to be ruined, don’t you?”

You hate that you can’t lie. Not here. Not now. Not when your body is already betraying you, your chest rising too fast, your mouth parting like you’re waiting for him to fill it.

You don’t answer.

You don’t need to.

Because he already knows.

And when his hand curls into the back of your neck and pulls your mouth to his—when he finally kisses you—it’s not sweet. It’s not comforting. It’s not anything you’ve ever had before.

It’s ownership.

It’s the start of something irreversible.

And you let it happen.

The kiss isn’t kind.

It’s rough—hot, consuming, all tongue and teeth and dominance. You gasp into it, and he swallows the sound whole, one hand fisted in your hair, the other already sliding down your waist like he owns the blueprint of your body. His grip is unrelenting, possessive, like he’s waited just long enough to enjoy the moment your spine gives in.

You barely register the low thunk of your bag hitting the floor before your back slams against the edge of his desk. He presses into you, chest to chest, cock already hard against your stomach through the fabric of his pants, and fuck—he’s big. You knew it. You felt it in the way he carried himself. And now there’s no more guessing.

“On the desk,” he growls, voice gravel under heat. “Now.”

You don’t move fast enough.

He flips you himself.

Hands on your hips, spinning you, pushing you forward until your chest hits the cold wood and your elbows slide across its polished surface. You feel his hand on the small of your back, flat and firm, holding you down like he’s staking a claim. The other slips beneath your skirt.

“Bet you’re already wet for me,” he mutters.

And when his fingers slide against the soaked lace between your legs, he groans—low, guttural, dark.

“Fuck. You are.”

You try to bite your lip, try to stay silent, but your body twitches under him—hips rocking back just barely, without thinking.

That’s all it takes.

Then his fingers are sliding through your folds, two of them sinking into you at once like he has something to prove.

He shoves your panties to the side. Doesn’t pull them down, doesn’t bother with anything careful or sweet—just tugs enough to get access.

“Goddamn,” he hisses, pumping slow, deliberate. “You like this, huh?”

You choke on your own moan, nails digging into the desk.

“Like being traded for a secret? Like being used to cover his ass?”

His fingers curl.

You cry out.

“Say it,” he snarls. “Say you like it.”

You bite it back.

He withdraws instantly—hand gone, heat gone, and your body clenches around nothing.

“No—please,” you gasp before you can stop yourself.

Toji chuckles darkly behind you.

“There she is.”

You hear the rustle of a belt. The clink of a zipper. The sound of fabric shifting.

And then—

The blunt, heavy press of his cock dragging through your soaked folds, head catching right where you’re aching the most.

“You sure you wanna do this?” he asks, mocking.

You nod, frantic. “Yes. Just—fuck, please.”

He doesn’t wait.

One hard thrust.

He buries himself inside you to the hilt—so thick it knocks the breath from your lungs, the stretch brutal, delicious, overwhelming. You cry out, nails scraping across the desk as he grinds in deeper, holding your hips like you might try to run.

“You feel that?” he breathes, lips close to your ear. “That’s mine now.”

Then he starts to move.

Brutal pace. No mercy. Just the sound of skin on skin, the slap of his hips against your ass, the wet drag of your cunt gripping every inch of him like it’s never been this full before. Your moans turn helpless, high and ruined, echoing in the room like a confession.

His hand slides up your back, catches the collar of your shirt, and yanks. You hear the fabric tear, feel the scrape of buttons popping open. Cold air hits your skin.

“You like this better,” he grits. “You want it filthy?”

You nod. Desperate. Sweat slicking your back, tears threatening to spill from how deep he is, from the way he hits that spot over and over and over—

His hand slides down.

Finds your clit.

Rubs tight, punishing circles while he slams into you.

“That’s it,” he growls. “Give it to me.”

And you do.

Your orgasm rips through you like a wave of fire—violent, blinding. You scream, body locking up, legs shaking as you clamp down around him and nearly collapse over the desk.

Toji groans, low and ragged. “Fucking tight.”

You feel him lose rhythm. Hear the change in his breath.

“Gonna fill you up,” he pants. “Gonna make sure you remember who owns you now.”

You moan, still trembling, completely at his mercy.

“Please—” your voice is cracked, ruined. “Please, cum inside me—”

“Yes, Beg for it,” he hisses.

He curses hard.

One last thrust, deep and rough and final—and then he’s spilling into you, hips jerking, cock pulsing deep as he empties himself with a guttural sound that shakes the bones in your spine.

The silence after is thick. Hot. Drenched in sweat and power. You’re still bent over his desk, breathing hard, your hands pressed flat to the wood, your body slick with heat and shame and satisfaction.

He’s still inside you—deep, heavy, pulsing slow as he drags out the moment. And when he finally pulls out, you whimper at the loss. Not because you want him again—yet—but because the emptiness makes you feel it all over again.

His cum spills down your thighs in slow, hot drips.

You shift, trying to stand, but your legs are too shaky.

He hums behind you, amused. “Told you I’d make it worth your while.”

You don’t answer.

Instead, you lower yourself slowly onto the edge of the desk, your bare thighs sticking to the cool wood. You can feel everything—the mess, the stretch, the ruin between your legs—and it should feel degrading.

But it doesn’t.

It feels like a win.

Toji grabs a few tissues from the box on the desk.

You expect him to hand them to you.

He doesn’t.

He kneels instead.

And fuck—you almost flinch.

Because when his thumb drags through your folds, slow and lazy, smearing his cum back inside you, your whole body shudders. He watches your cunt flutter, watches your thighs tremble, watches the way your hips twitch helplessly beneath his hand.

“Don’t waste it,” he murmurs.

You gasp when he presses two fingers into you again, spreading the mess deeper.

“That’s mine now,” he adds, soft but sharp. “You gave it to me.”

He wipes what’s left with a lazy, practiced touch. But it’s not kindness. It’s ownership.

You slide off the desk on shaking legs and grab your bag. You smooth your skirt. Fix your top. Pretend you’re in control again.

Even though your panties are soaked.

Even though his cum is still dripping out of you.

Even though he’s watching you like this was only the beginning.

You make it two steps toward the door before his voice stops you cold.

“You think this was a one-time favor?”

You pause. Don’t turn around.

“I keep my mouth shut,” he says, “you keep showing up.”

You glance back at him—hair a mess, shirt undone, cock still out.

And you smile.

“Who says I won’t?”

Toji leans back in his chair like he’s already planning the next time. Like he knows you’ll come crawling back. But this time, it won’t be because you’re scared. It’ll be because you want to.

You step into the hallway, raw and sore and glowing.

Because you’re done playing fair.

You don’t feel ashamed.

You feel powerful.

And Nanami?

He has no idea what’s coming.

You return to class like nothing happened.

It’s been a full day since you locked that office door behind you—since Toji’s hands were on your skin, his voice in your ear, his cum dripping down your thighs.

A full day since you stopped pretending you didn’t like the fire.

You’ve been quiet since. Not hiding.

Just waiting.

Letting it settle into your bones, letting the world shift just enough to feel like you’re the one in control now.

And when you walk into the lecture hall, it’s like you’ve been reborn.

Same seat. Same desk. Same room.

But not the same girl.

You’re not pretending to be soft anymore.

There’s a new weight behind your gaze. A new sharpness to your smile.

You feel it in the way people look at you now—like they’re seeing you for the first time.

You’re here to be seen.

And Megumi notices first.

He’s already in your row, lounging back in the chair beside yours with his legs stretched out and that smug little smirk that says he still thinks he has the upper hand.

“You’re back,” he says, like it’s funny.

You drop your bag on the desk and sit beside him, slow and graceful and just a little too pleased with yourself.

“Miss me?” you hum.

His smile grows. “Didn’t think you’d have the nerve.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you say sweetly, turning to face him, your voice low and rich. “You snitched on me. Thought you were pulling strings. But all you did was hand me your father on a silver platter.”

He blinks. The smile falters.

“What?”

You lean in, close enough that only he can hear. Your lips barely move. Your tone is dripping in syrup and acid.

“I should be thanking you,” you whisper. “Because thanks to you… I got to fuck your dad.”

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Megumi goes still. His mouth parts—just slightly—but no sound comes out.

And then, without another word, he stands up and leaves. Fast. Wide-eyed. Like he’s running from something that just snapped loose in his chest.

You don’t even flinch.

You just sit back. Cross your legs. Flip open your notebook like nothing happened.

Like you didn’t just shatter someone.

Like you’re already thinking about what’s next.

You hear the door open behind you a moment later.

Footsteps—slow, even, familiar.

Nanami.

Your breath hitches, but you don’t look up.

You feel it in your chest when he passes—like a ghost brushing through you.

He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t acknowledge you. But you feel his gaze linger for a fraction too long as he moves past you.

He stands at the front of the room, briefcase already open, tie perfect, expression calm.

But when he glances at you again, it’s different.

He knows.

It’s burning in the cool way you hold your pen, the way your lips curl just slightly at the corner like you’re keeping a secret.

It’s shining in your skin.

And he doesn’t know what, not exactly—but something in you has changed, and it’s loud.

And Nanami feels it.

He feels it in the pit of his stomach.

And for the first time since he told you it was over—he wonders if maybe you finally believed him.

And moved the fuck on.

The lecture drags.

But something’s off.

His voice is steady, his notes are clean, and his explanations are as polished as always. Not because Nanami falters—he doesn’t.

You are off.

And it’s throwing him.

He tells himself it’s nothing. That you’re just back—finally—and maybe he should be relieved.

He tries not to stare. He tries not to think about the way your lips shine under the fluorescents or how your legs are crossed just a little too tight.

He’s unsettled.

Because the girl sitting in the front row, notebook open, pen between her fingers?

That’s not the girl he left standing in his office three days ago, shaking and tearful and betrayed.

This version of you is cold.

Beautiful.

Sharp-edged and glowing with something dangerous.

You smile at him once—just once—and it wrecks him.

Because it doesn’t reach your eyes.

And he realizes, too late, that he’s the only one in the room who knows how far you’ve fallen.

Because he’s the one who dropped you.

Class ends.

You pack slowly. Deliberately. Your fingers move with a calm he doesn’t believe. You can feel him watching you as the room empties out—his stare heavy, desperate, burning a hole into the back of your head.

And when the last student leaves, and it’s just the two of you again?

He says your name.

Soft. Tentative. Not like a professor. Not like a lover.

You turn around slowly. Raise your brows, calm as anything.

“Yes, Professor?”

He flinches at the title.

His jaw tightens. “Can we talk?”

You tilt your head. “About what?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

And you almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

Because this is what he wanted, right?

Separation.

Silence.

Distance.

And now that you’ve finally given it to him, he looks like he’s choking on it.

You step closer. Not enough to be inappropriate. Just enough to make him sweat.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk,” you murmur. “You made it very clear.”

His eyes drop to your mouth, then back up again. “I didn’t mean—”

“Yes,” you interrupt, sharp but not unkind. “You did.”

You watch him struggle for a second longer—jaw clenched, eyes flicking across your face like he’s looking for a way back in.

And then, just before you turn to go—

“Oh,” you say, like it just occurred to you. “And you don’t have to worry about Toji sending the recording.”

His breath catches.

“I’ve got it under control.”

You give him a sweet smile.

One that’s all lipstick and fire and secrets.

Then you walk out.

Calm. Collected. Glowing.

And Nanami?

He doesn’t sit down. He just stares at the door like it might open again. Like he’s hoping you’ll walk back in and take the weight off his chest.

But you won’t.

You already did your part.

And now it’s his turn to fall apart alone.

You don’t go home after class.

Not now. Not since you stopped pretending to be the kind of girl who lets other people decide what she’s worth.

You should. You could. But your body doesn’t move that way anymore.

You don’t text Toji.

You don’t have to.

He doesn’t say anything when he sees you. Just gives you a once-over—eyes dragging down your legs, your hips, the smug little smirk still clinging to your mouth.

Arms crossed, sleeves rolled to the elbow, a cigarette tucked behind his ear like the picture of careless sin.

By the time you reach the admin building, he’s already leaning against the doorframe of his office, like he knew you’d be back.

Then he steps aside.

Door open.

Invitation clear.

You walk in.

Don’t speak.

Just wait.

Toji shuts the door behind you, slow and easy. Doesn’t bother locking it this time—like he knows you’re not here to play shy anymore.

When he turns around, you’re already by the desk, fingers grazing the edge.

“You were late today,” he says, voice low, teasing. “Was starting to think you were over me already.”

You glance back at him, expression flat. “I was busy ruining a man’s day.”

That earns you a grin. “Let me guess—Nanami?”

You hum. “Told him I had the recording under control.”

Toji chuckles, steps closer. “You’re really getting the hang of this whole revenge thing.”

You shrug. “Figured I’d learn from the best.”

There’s a beat of silence—heavy, pulsing.

Then he moves.

One hand comes up, cradles your jaw, thumb tracing your bottom lip like he’s remembering exactly how it felt when you moaned around him.

Crosses the room, slow and deliberate, until his chest brushes yours.

“You’re dangerous now,” he murmurs, almost admiring. “You taste it yet?”

You don’t answer.

Just tilt your chin up. Just enough.

An invitation.

His mouth crashes into yours like a promise—messy, brutal, already desperate.

It’s different this time.

Not because it’s softer. Not because he’s gentle.

But because you want it now.

Not to prove something.

Not to survive.

But because this is yours.

You want all of it—his mouth, his cock, his voice in your ear saying filthy things that make you feel alive again.

Your thighs tighten around his hips. Your fingers tangle in his hair.

Let him peel your top off, kiss down your chest, bite at the soft underside of your breast.

You let him back you up against the desk again.

And Toji?

Toji gives it to you.

Every fucking second of it.

His mouth is already on your neck, hands up your shirt, hips between your thighs like he’s got no plans to stop. He groans into your skin, breathing heavy, like he’s barely holding himself back.

You’re gasping before you can stop it, fingers tangling in his hair, legs tightening around his hips. You feel his belt press into your thigh, the thick line of his cock hard against you through the fabric of his pants.

“Toji—” you start, already breathless.

He kisses you hard—deep and rough, like he’s staking a claim. You feel him reach for your skirt, about to drag it up, when suddenly he pulls back. Just a little. Just enough.

You blink at him, chest rising and falling fast. “What?”

“Not here,” he mutters, voice low and gravelly.

Your brows knit. “Why not?”

He steps back, adjusts your top for you, then fixes his own shirt like it’s no big deal. But his jaw’s tight. His eyes are darker now. “I’m not fucking you on a desk again.”

You just stare at him.

Then he grabs your hand and pulls you toward the door without another word.

When you step out into the cool air, you pause. It’s still campus. Still public. And you glance around instinctively, nerves prickling at the back of your neck.

“Toji—” you tug at his arm, lowering your voice.

He stops walking. Turns to you slowly.

Then smirks. “Baby, relax.”

You blink.

His eyes gleam with something sharp, wicked. “You’re gonna have to trust me.”

You swallow.

He leans in, brushing his mouth against your ear. “I promise it’ll be worth it.”

You stare at him for a second longer—until he opens the passenger door of his car like it’s nothing. Like this isn’t insane.

“Get in.”

You hesitate just a second. Then slide into the seat, heart hammering.

The ride starts quiet.

Not awkward—just heavy. Thick with everything you didn’t get to finish back in that office. Toji’s hand is steady on the wheel, rings glinting in the sunlight, jaw sharp in profile as he drives like he’s not in any rush. Like he’s trying to savor this part, too.

You shift in your seat, thighs pressed tight together, still aching with the want he didn’t satisfy.

He glances over, one brow raised, smirking. “You always this squirmy, or is it just me?”

You roll your eyes, but your face burns. “You literally dragged me out mid—”

“Mid what?” he interrupts, voice low and smug. “Mid whimper? Mid grind?”

You punch his arm lightly, but he just laughs, a quiet, throaty sound that settles low in your stomach.

Then, softer—more real—he says, “Didn’t wanna rush it.”

Your chest tightens a little. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He looks over at you again, slower this time. “You looked too pretty to fuck quick against a desk. Wanted to take my time. Make you cry a little.”

That shuts you up.

He smirks like he knows it. Like he’s proud of himself. Then he adds, “You worried someone was gonna see you, back there.”

You glance out the window. “…Maybe.”

He scoffs, like it’s the dumbest thing he’s heard. “I own that fucking school.”

You blink. “What?”

Toji shrugs, casual as hell. “Board loves me. Faculty can’t touch me. You think someone’s gonna open their mouth? Let ‘em try. I’ll make ‘em wish they didn’t.”

You swallow. “You’re insane.”

He grins. “Only for you, sweetheart.”

There’s a beat of silence.

You cross your legs slowly. “So… where are we going?”

He looks at you, eyes dark and amused. “Home.”

“Yours?”

“Unless you wanna get wrecked in a parking lot.”

Your heart stutters. Your thighs squeeze tighter.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Gonna take my time. Wanna ruin you properly.”

And with that, he shifts gears—and your breath catches.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Gonna take my time. Wanna ruin you properly.”

And with that, he shifts gears—and your breath catches.

His hand stays on the wheel, knuckles tight, thumb tapping slowly against the leather. He doesn’t look at you, not yet, but there’s something about the way his jaw flexes that makes your stomach twist. That lazy, dangerous calm he wears like second skin—it’s thicker now. Louder. It’s in the way he turns onto the main road like he’s not thinking about anything else but what he’s gonna do to you when you get there.

You sit back, legs crossed, pulse ticking under your skin. You try not to shift in your seat. Try not to let your thighs press together. But you can feel the tension building, slow and sticky, winding through the air between you.

Toji doesn’t speak. Not at first. He just drives—slow enough to tease, fast enough to make your heart race.

“You always this quiet?” he finally asks, glancing at you sideways.

You shrug, voice soft. “You’re the one who said you wanted to take your time.”

That earns you a crooked smile. “Yeah. But not in silence.”

You hum, letting your head tilt slightly, lips curling. “What do you wanna talk about?”

He huffs a laugh. “Nothing. Just like hearing your voice when you’re not moaning.”

You look away, trying not to smile. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re wet,” he says easily.

You shoot him a look, but he’s already grinning. One hand still steady on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gear shift like he’s not in any rush to touch you again. Like he’s making you wait on purpose.

“Cocky,” you murmur.

He glances over. “Only when I’m right.”

The silence stretches again—longer this time. Thicker.

You can feel it creeping back in, curling between your legs, heating your cheeks. It’s not the kind of quiet you fill with small talk. It’s the kind that builds pressure. The kind that makes you squirm in your seat and pretend like you’re not imagining what his hands will feel like all over you the second you step inside his house.

And then finally, his voice cuts through it, lower now. Rougher.

“You nervous?”

You pause, just long enough for him to notice. “No.”

He doesn’t call you out on the lie. Doesn’t smirk, doesn’t tease. Just nods once—quiet, settled. But the way his hand tightens on the wheel says something else entirely.

“Good,” he says. “’Cause I’m not gonna stop this time.”

The rest of the drive blurs. Not because it’s fast, but because the air is thick with things unspoken. Your heart’s pounding. Your thighs ache. Every time he shifts gears, the movement sends another jolt of heat through you.

And then he’s pulling into a driveway.

It’s not what you expected.

Not a flashy house. No giant gates or pretentious signs. It’s clean. Neat. A quiet, modern two-story tucked behind tall hedges, windows dark. Private. The kind of place where secrets are safe.

He kills the engine, and the sudden silence makes your breath hitch.

“You coming?” he asks, already opening his door.

You follow, legs a little shaky as your heels hit the concrete. The air is cooler now, sharp against your skin, but you barely notice it. Not with the way he’s watching you from the front step, keys dangling from his fingers, that same lazy confidence in every inch of his posture.

When he opens the door, he doesn’t wait for you to walk in first—he just steps aside, lets you move past him, lets his hand brush low over your back like a warning.

It’s warm inside.

Dim lights. Clean floors. A dark hallway stretching out ahead of you. You hear the door shut behind you with a quiet click, and then his voice—low, close to your ear.

“Upstairs,” he says, already moving past you. “Second door on the left.”

You don’t hesitate.

You walk.

And you feel him watching every step.

You reach the top of the stairs, your fingers trailing lightly along the wall like you need something to steady yourself. Each step feels heavier, hotter, like the air’s thickening with every breath.

Second door on the left.

You stop in front of it, hand hovering over the knob, pulse drumming at the base of your throat. And then you feel it—him. Toji right behind you, not touching, but close enough that his presence drapes over your shoulders like heat.

He leans in, voice low. “Open it.”

You do.

The room is… minimal. Clean lines, dark wood, soft lighting that throws long shadows across the floor. A massive bed in the center—black sheets, unmade. Like he hadn’t expected company, but didn’t mind the idea of it.

You step inside, heart climbing into your mouth.

Toji shuts the door behind you, and this time, he does lock it.

Then silence. Heavy. Almost too much.

Until—

“Take off your shoes.”

His voice is soft. Gentle. But it leaves no room for argument.

You kick them off slowly, feeling the shift in the atmosphere as your heels hit the floor with a dull thud.

“Come here.”

You don’t walk.

You drift.

Like your body already knows the way to him.

And the second you’re close enough—he touches you. One hand on your waist, the other sliding up your spine, fingers dragging the heat of the night right through your clothes.

“You sure about this?” he asks, voice gruff, almost strained. Like if you say no, he might actually stop.

But you look up at him—lips parted, breathing uneven, already undone.

“Don’t you dare,” you whisper. “Don’t stop.”

And Toji smiles like he’s been waiting his whole fucking life to hear you say that.

He pulls you in slowly, like he wants to savor it—your skin, your breath, the way your fingers curl into his shirt like you’re already bracing for the fall. His lips brush yours once—barely there—before he tilts his head and kisses you for real.

And fuck—it’s everything.

Hot and messy, all tongue and teeth and want. You gasp, and he swallows it. His hands are everywhere, greedy, slow, dragging up your back and into your hair, tugging until your head tips back and he can get to your throat.

“Been thinking about this,” he mutters against your skin. “All goddamn day.”

You arch into him, hands fumbling at the hem of his shirt, needing more, needing him, but he catches your wrists and holds them still.

“Let me,” he says, low and steady.

And then he peels you open like a secret.

Top off. Tossed somewhere across the room. His eyes darken when he sees you—no bra, no hesitation. Just you, standing there like you’ve already given yourself over to him and you’re not taking it back.

“Fucking beautiful,” he says, like it hurts.

He runs his hands down your sides, slow, thumbs grazing just under your ribs. You shiver.

“Lay down.”

You do.

The sheets are cool, but your skin is already burning, and when Toji crawls over you—knee between your legs, hand cupping your jaw—your whole body arches like you’ve been waiting for this exact moment since the first time he looked at you.

“Still nervous?” he asks, lips brushing your ear.

You nod. Barely.

And he smiles.

“Good.”

Then he kisses you again—deeper, slower.

Like he plans to ruin you piece by piece.

His mouth moves lower, unhurried. Down your neck, across your collarbone, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. He palms your breast, thumbing over your nipple until it stiffens, then replaces his hand with his mouth—hot, wet, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

You writhe under him, fingers clawing at the sheets.

��Toji—” you breathe, and it sounds wrecked already.

“Yeah, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick, lips dragging across your chest. “Say it again.”

“Toji,” you whisper, softer this time, like it’s not just his name—it’s permission.

And he takes it.

One hand slips between your thighs, pushing them open with practiced ease. He groans when he sees the soaked fabric sticking to your core.

“Fuck. You’re soaked for me already?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “That for me, or were you just thinking about how I said I was gonna ruin you?”

You don’t say anything—but your hips roll toward his hand without thinking.

That’s enough.

He hooks a finger into your panties, dragging them down slowly, deliberately, until they’re off. Tossed aside. Gone.

And then he just looks at you—like you’re art. Like you’re dangerous. Like he’s already addicted.

He spreads your legs with his hands, slow and steady, settling between them with a low, hungry groan. “Gonna take my time with this,” he says again. “Wanna learn how you fall apart.”

And then his mouth is on you.

Hot, slow, sinful.

And it starts all over again.

His tongue drags through your folds like he’s savoring it—every slick, messy second. He groans against you, hands locking around your thighs to keep you open, to keep you exactly where he wants you. The sound alone makes your stomach flip, your back arch.

“Toji—fuck—”

You grab at the sheets, at his hair, at anything you can reach because the way he’s eating you out is obscene. Slow at first, lazy licks like he’s just warming up—but then he starts to focus. Starts to learn you. Where you twitch, where you cry out, where your thighs try to snap shut because it’s too much.

And he doesn’t stop.

He flattens his tongue, flicks it fast, then sucks—hard—right over your clit until you jerk up off the bed.

“Oh my god—”

He grins into you. “There she is.”

You’re already shaking, breath ragged, heat coiling so deep in your belly it hurts. He doesn’t need you to come yet. He’s just playing. Just getting you used to the way he devours.

Then he adds a finger.

And another.

Curled just right.

It punches a moan straight out of your chest.

“Fuck—Toji—please—”

“You close already?” he murmurs, lips brushing your clit. “You gonna come just from this?”

You nod—desperate, shameless. “Yes. Yes, please.”

He chuckles against you. “Go ahead then. Wanna feel you come on my tongue.”

And you do.

Hard.

Loud.

Like your whole body gives out under the weight of him.

But he doesn’t stop.

Your hips jerk—too sensitive, too raw—but he holds you down, mouth still working you through it like he’s not satisfied yet. Like he wants more. Wants you twitching. Squirming. Whimpering under his tongue.

You whine, thighs trembling around his head. “Toji—please—s’too much—”

He lifts his head just enough to speak, lips shiny with you. “Nah, baby. Not even close.”

And before you can catch your breath, he’s moving again—fingers still deep, curling up, stroking that spot that makes you wail. His mouth finds your clit again, sucks so hard you feel your spine try to escape your body.

It’s overwhelming. You’re drenched, ruined, a fucking mess and he’s still eating you like he hasn’t had a proper meal in days.

“That’s it,” he mutters, voice low and wrecked. “So fuckin’ sweet for me.”

You try to grab his wrist, try to push him back—but he doesn’t budge. Just groans like the taste of you is enough to make him lose it. Like he needs this. Needs you.

And when your second orgasm crashes over you—louder, hotter, blinding—you scream his name like a prayer. Like a curse. Like it’s the only thing holding you to the earth.

He lets you ride it out this time. Slower. Gentler. Still inside you, still licking soft and slow while your body trembles beneath him.

You’re not even sure when the tears started.

But he notices. He always does.

“Too much?” he whispers, leaning up, dragging his lips across your thigh.

You nod, dazed. “Y-Yeah. Just… fuck.”

And he grins, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and says, “Good.”

And before you can even fully breathe, he’s crawling up the bed—slow, like he’s giving you a second to run. Like he’d enjoy it if you did. But you don’t move. Can’t. You’re still trying to process the way his mouth felt on you, the way your body’s still shaking from how easily he pulled you apart.

His hands find your knees. Spreads them again. You gasp, sensitive, and he just hums low in his throat like that’s exactly what he wants to hear.

“You’re not done,” he murmurs, eyes dark. “Not even close.”

Then he leans down—one forearm beside your head, the other sliding up your thigh—and kisses you. Deep. Messy. Like he wants you to taste yourself on his tongue. Like he’s already drunk on it. You moan into it, arms coming up around his neck, legs wrapping around his hips on instinct.

You can feel him now. Hard, hot, pressed right against where you need him. But he doesn’t rush. Doesn’t grind. Just teases. Keeps kissing you like he’s got nowhere else to be.

And fuck—you’re already gone for him.

You arch into him, whimpering softly against his mouth, and that’s when he finally presses down—just enough for you to feel how hard he is through his sweats. Just enough to make you twitch under him.

“Feel that?” he mumbles against your lips. “Been like that since you stepped in my office.”

You nod, dazed, breath catching in your throat as you try to rock your hips against him for more. But his hand shoots to your waist, holding you still.

“Uh-uh,” he breathes, voice low and thick. “I said I was gonna take my time.”

He leans back, just far enough to look at you. Really look at you.

Hair a mess, lips kiss-swollen, skin flushed and glowing under his weight.

“Look at you,” he mutters, almost to himself. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

His hands smooth down your sides, slow and reverent, like he’s grounding himself. Like if he doesn’t touch you right now—if he doesn’t feel your skin, warm and soft under his palms—he might lose it completely.

“You’ve been driving me fucking insane,” he says, almost like it’s your fault. Like you knew what you were doing every time you looked at him like that in class, every time you bit your lip and played innocent.

You open your mouth to speak, but his thumb brushes over your bottom lip again, silencing you before a word can slip out.

“Shh,” he says, gentle but firm. “Just let me look at you.”

And he does. Lets his gaze trail down your neck, your chest, the curve of your waist like he’s seeing all of you for the first time. Like he’s not just undressing you—he’s unwrapping something sacred.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

Then he leans in again, presses his lips to your jaw, your throat, the hollow of your collarbone—soft, lingering kisses that make your whole body shiver.

“You feel safe here?” he whispers, mouth brushing over your skin.

You nod, breathless. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he says, and you feel the heat in it—the promise. “’Cause I’m not letting you go tonight.”

Then he finally shifts. One hand slides under your thigh, the other steady at your waist, guiding your leg up around his hip as he settles between them. You suck in a breath, body already burning again, every nerve raw and humming. You feel him—bare, hard, pressed against your entrance—and your whole body aches for it.

But he still doesn’t move.

Not yet.

He just stays there, forehead resting against yours, eyes locked on yours like he’s searching for something in your face—something honest. Something real.

“You sure?” he murmurs, voice low and steady, like it’s costing him to ask.

You nod, already breathless. “I want you.”

“Yeah?” His eyes drop to your lips, then back up. “Say it.”

You swallow hard. “I want you, Toji. Please.”

And that’s all he needs.

He pushes in slow. Thick. Deep. Your mouth falls open in a gasp, and your nails dig into his shoulders as he sinks all the way in with one long, devastating stroke. He groans, head dropping to the curve of your neck, breath hot against your collarbone.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You feel… fuck, you feel so good.”

You whimper beneath him, back arching as he starts to move—slow, deep thrusts that drag against every sensitive spot inside you like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your body from the inside out.

It’s not fast. It’s not rough.

It’s worship.

Like he meant it—when he said he was gonna take his time.

Your hands slide up his arms, his shoulders, his back—grabbing at anything you can reach as the pressure builds all over again. His name slips from your lips in a broken whisper, and he lifts his head to kiss you hard, tongue sliding against yours like he needs to feel every part of you at once.

“You’re mine,” he growls against your mouth, hips rocking into you slow and steady. “All mine.”

You nod, dizzy. “Yours.”

“Say it again.”

“Yours,” you gasp. “Fuck—Toji, I’m yours.”

And something in him snaps.

He picks up the pace—still not harsh, but heavier now. Deeper. His hand finds yours and pins it above your head, fingers threaded tight as he fucks you slow and possessive, like he wants you to remember this forever.

You will.

You already know.

Every drag of his cock, every breathless sound he pulls from your throat, every graze of his teeth on your skin—he’s burning it into you.

Branding you.

And you let him.

You want to.

Because this time, it’s not about power or revenge or survival.

This time?

It’s about giving in.

It’s about the way his mouth finds your throat again, tongue dragging slow over your pulse like he’s tasting every beat of your heart. It’s about the way your legs lock around his waist and stay there, shaking and tight, like you need him to stay inside you or you’ll come undone completely.

“Toji,” you whisper—barely a sound, more breath than word.

His name doesn’t even sound like a name anymore. It sounds like a need. Like a prayer.

He groans at the sound of it, hips stuttering just slightly, and that’s when he presses his forehead to yours again, eyes dark and raw and open in a way you’ve never seen.

“Fuck, you’re everything,” he mutters, voice breaking on the edge of it. “You feel—Jesus, baby, you feel like fucking heaven.”

And it should feel dirty. Should feel like something you’re not supposed to want—this man, this situation, this entire tangled mess. But it doesn’t. Not when he says it like that. Not when he looks at you like you’re something sacred.

You cling to him, gasping, shivering, blinking past tears you didn’t know were building. You can feel it building again, hot and sharp, curling low in your belly like a storm about to break.

“I’m close,” you breathe, voice shaking. “Toji—please—”

“I know,” he pants, hips grinding deeper, slower. “I’ve got you.”

And he does.

His hand slides between you again, thumb finding your clit with practiced ease. He circles once—twice—and that’s all it takes.

You come apart with a cry, body convulsing, legs tightening around him as the wave hits. It’s messy. Loud. Your hands scramble for purchase, fingernails dragging down his back as he fucks you through it, mouth on your jaw, your neck, your shoulder—anywhere he can reach.

“That’s it,” he groans. “That’s my girl.”

And when you’re still trembling, still trying to breathe, he lets go—finally, fully.

You feel him pulse inside you, feel him spill deep, feel his whole body shudder as he buries himself to the hilt with a ragged, broken moan that sounds like it’s being ripped from his chest.

He stays there. For a second. Two.

Breathing hard. Holding you like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

And when he finally pulls back, he doesn’t go far. Just enough to see your face.

Eyes soft. Lips swollen. Skin damp and glowing.

“Still good?” he asks, voice quiet.

You nod, dazed. “Better than good.”

Toji smiles. Really smiles. And for the first time, it’s not cocky. It’s not smug. It’s just soft. Real.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Then don’t move.”

And he leans down again.

Kisses you like you’re his to keep.

And for a second—just one—you let yourself believe it.

His breath is warm against your cheek, slower now, steadier. His hand doesn’t leave your skin, just shifts slightly, from your thigh to your hip to the curve of your waist, like he’s mapping it all again now that the storm’s passed. Like he wants to memorize the softness that came after the ruin.

You blink slowly, lashes brushing his collarbone, and realize your legs are still tangled around his. That you’re still holding him. Still clinging.

And that he hasn’t let go either.

“You good?” he murmurs, voice hoarse and quiet, lips brushing your hair.

You nod. A little too fast.

His fingers lift, trace the edge of your jaw, and tilt your face just enough so he can see you. His thumb strokes under your eye, down to your cheek. “You sure?”

You nod again. Then, softer, “Yeah. Just… overwhelmed.”

A pause.

Then Toji sighs—deep, from the chest—and rolls, pulling you with him until you’re draped over his body. One of his hands spreads across your back, the other tugs a blanket up over your shoulders. It’s instinctive. Casual. Natural. Like he’s done this before. Like he wants to.

“Good overwhelmed or bad?” he asks.

You blink again. Your throat feels thick. “Good,” you whisper. “I think.”

He doesn’t push. Just holds you closer.

Lets you breathe.

Lets you think.

Lets you exist here, on top of him, your heart still racing a little too fast for what’s supposed to be the calm after. Lets your fingers curl into his chest like you’re scared of what it means that you don’t want to move. That you’re not thinking about Nanami. That you’re not thinking about the mess. That you’re just… here.

With him.

And then—to your own horror—you feel it.

That flutter in your chest.

Small.

Annoying.

Warm.

Toji hums, lazy, lips brushing your hairline. “What’s goin’ on in that head?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your mouth’s too dry. Your thoughts are too loud.

Because he’s warm. And solid. And still tracing circles into your back like it’s second nature. Like he wants you to fall asleep on top of him.

And something about that hits you like a fucking freight train.

Shit.

Shit.

You shift slightly—just enough to hide your face again. To press your nose into the space beneath his jaw. To ground yourself in his scent before your heart does something even stupider.

Toji doesn’t question it. Doesn’t tease.

He just wraps both arms around you.

Holds you like you’ve got nowhere else to be.

And that’s when it hits you hardest.

You don’t want to leave.

Not yet.

His chest is warm against your cheek. Steady. Real. You curl in closer, one of your legs tangling with his, breath syncing up without even trying. His fingers move slowly up and down your spine, gentle like he’s trying to memorize every inch.

Neither of you says anything.

The silence isn’t awkward.

It’s full.

You don’t know how long you stay like that. Long enough for your eyes to start closing. Long enough for his grip to tighten a little—like he feels it too.

And then, just when your mind starts to drift—when you think maybe, maybe this doesn’t have to mean anything—

He whispers your name. Soft. Barely there.

Your heart skips.

You tilt your head up, blinking at him.

His eyes are already on you.

And then he says it. Quiet. Careful.

“Don’t go back to him.”

You freeze.

Toji doesn’t take it back. Doesn’t clarify. He just stares at the ceiling for a second, like he’s working something out in real time. Like he’s already said too much but won’t pretend he didn’t mean it.

And then, quietly—gruffly—he says,

“I know you’re using me.”

Your stomach twists.

“Hell, I was using you too.”

You blink. Stay still.

“To fuck with Nanami,” he says. “That’s what it was, at the start.”

You don’t say anything.

“But then you showed up,” he murmurs. “Locked that door. Looked at me like you weren’t scared of what I’d do—and suddenly it wasn’t just about him anymore.”

There’s a pause.

“To be honest, I don’t know what the fuck this is,” he admits. “But it’s not a game now. Not for me.”

You glance up at him, heart climbing a little too high in your throat.

He doesn’t look at you. Just keeps tracing lazy circles along your hip with his thumb.

“I don’t do soft,” he mutters. “I don’t do feelings. But… I don’t want to go back to whatever the hell I was doing before this.”

Another pause.

Then, finally—

“Nanami had you in his game,” he says, voice low. “But I don’t want that with you.”

His fingers tighten a little on your side.

“I want something that’s fucking real.”

—

@rjreins @jeankirschteinsimp @nanamiscsleeve @rissaaaaaa @mikrh-lizzie @tnaiis

[ask-an-epidemiologist]

Why "COVID anxiety" is not an actual disorder

In psychiatric terms, a phobia is considered as such if, and only if, it is unreasonable. So, an average person experiencing panic attacks at the sight of bees would be considered to have a phobia, because they are more afraid than the risk bees present to them.

However, a person with a fatal allergy to bee stings would not be considered apiphobic. This is because, with the risk of death bees present to them, having panic attacks is considered a rational reaction.

I'm sure you can already understand my point.

COVID not only can kill you (particularly if you're medically vulnerable), but it can cause severe disability. Even ignoring that people who have had COVID in the last three weeks are 81 times likelier to die of cardiac events than uninfected people, survivors of COVID are also 40% likelier to develop neurological sequelae. Rates of POTS or other dysautonomias (dysfunctions of the autonomous nervous system, which can be anywhere from "uncomfortable" to "rendering a patient bedridden") are through the roof, and neurologists are finding huge increases in the under-45 demographic of their dementia patients- a demographic that was previously extremely rare.

If someone wears protective eyewear while welding because they don't want to be blinded by an arc flash, we consider that a normal and reasonable precaution. So why are people who mask being labeled as "anxious about COVID" considering that this virus will very likely disable them if not kill them outright?

"COVID anxiety" is a rational behavior, not a medical diagnosis- so why are we treating it as one? Simple: it's another politicization of medicine. Just as "hysteria" was used to silence women, and lobotomization was used to subjugate inconvenient people (especially of rival political affiliations), "COVID anxiety" is being used to silence those who refuse to cooperate with the false narrative that COVID is over and/or no big deal. The very sight of a mask is a stark reminder to medical officials and laymen alike that they should be doing something they aren't. It's why some doctors aren't even "letting" chemo patients, one of the most severely immunocompromised demographics, do this. Because even though they are carefully avoiding a lot more illnesses than COVID, the sight of the mask still makes the doctor think of the COVID precautions they are ignoring first and foremost.

That is to say, "COVID anxiety" is a punitive diagnosis made by doctors when they are angry at the discomfort they feel when their patients remind them of their utter inadequacy, and they created this solely to stigmatize and demean patients to ensure they wouldn't subvert the expected power dynamic again.

Zero competent medical professionals actually use this terminology for their patients, and if yours uses it for you, run, don't walk, to a new clinic. Helping you is a secondary goal at best for your doctor.

[nicestgirlonline]

Something Sweet

Pairing: Sugar Daddy! Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut ahead!!! Thigh riding, public stuff, dirty talk, sugar relationships, power dynamics, dom/sub undertones

Word Count: 4.9K

Summary : A chance run in with a handsome stranger turns out to be the opportunity of a lifetime

a/n: for @the-slumberparty September Bingo Challenge! No bingo for me this round, I got it in JUST UNDER THE WIRE! Takes me waaaaayyy to long to write lol. Thanks for reading, I’d love your feedback! Reblogs and comments are love <3

You placed the candy bar on the counter in front of the very bored cashier. You dug through your purse and pulled out your debit card and handed it over. A queue had started to form behind you as you tapped your hand in anticipation. 

“Declined.” The cashier said, holding out the card for you. Your stomach dropped. You were afraid this was going to happen. You were so sure that you had enough in your account for at least a candy bar. You had paid the overdraft fees from last month, so you should have been set. Your stomach gurgled a bit. You were so hungry. 

“Um, can you try it again?” You asked, hoping it was some sort of mistake, that the bank was just a little slow to catch up with your account. She let out a sigh and placed it in the machine again.  

You could feel the stares behind you. You looked back at the line; directly behind you was a tall man dressed in a suit, checking his watch. He looked like he must be very important. He had dark brown hair that was neatly styled and just a touch of a five o’clock shadow. It was incredibly handsome. His icy blue eyes flicked from his Rolex to you, making you quickly turn back to the cashier. 

“Declined. Again.” The cashier handed it back this time with a look insisting you take the card from her. Humiliated, your cheeks began to turn red. 

“Sorry.” You mumbled as you shoved your card back into your purse so you could clear the shop as quickly as possible. In your haste, you accidentally ran into Mr. BusinessMan. You collided with his body like a brick wall. “Sorry! I’m so sorry! Fuck I’m a mess.” You cried out as you ran past him this time. 

You ran directly out onto the street, the cool air filling your lungs. You dropped down onto the curb to spend a minute catching your breath. You could feel your heart still racing, your body going into fight or flight mode. 

Money, money, money. It all always came back to money. If you didn't have the money for a god damn candy, how were you going to make rent in less than two weeks? Tears threatened to escape your eyes and you squeezed them shut. 

Here you were, no food in your stomach and soon to be no roof over your head. You looked at your phone, a flip phone from 2013 that miraculously still worked. The last text you had gotten was from your mom “Fridge broken. Send more this month.” 

God fucking damn it. 

“Hey! I think you forgot this.” A deep voice called out behind you. You turned to see the business man from the shop! Confused, you grabbed your purse and checked to make sure you hadn’t left your keys or something. The man held the bar you had left at the counter. He held it out to you. You didn’t go to grab it, you just stared.

“Oh. Um, you didn’t have to…” You began but he squatted down next to you and placed the candy on your lap. 

“We all have bad days. Doesn’t cost me nothing to be nice. You look like you deserve something sweet.” He had a very kind smile on his face. It did cost him something though, it cost him more than what was currently in your bank account. “You ok?”

“I’m…I’m ok. I’m going to be ok. Thank you, really.” You could feel the tears spilling over and you started to wipe your face so he wouldn’t see.

“You must really like candy to be crying over it.” He lightly joked, which only made you want to cry more. You let out a little laugh that sounded more like a strangled gasp. It was so overwhelming, the simple act of charity.

“It’s just…really really nice of you.” You gasped, the tears finally flowing freely. “I don’t remember the last time anyone has ever given me something…I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey, hey, you’ve got nothing to apologize for.” He reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder to comfort you. “I’m James.”

You gave him your name, finally ceasing your tears. You took a deep breath, you couldn’t just fall apart in front of this kind stranger, he was probably running late to some sort of business meeting anyway.

“You have a way to get home?” he asked, he pulled out his phone and began to tap on it. You nodded your head. 

“Yes, yes I do. I have money left on a bus card, really thank you so much James.” He smiled at you when you said his name. He placed his phone back into his suit jacket. He took your hand and helped you up.  With your spiral into darkness slightly stalled, you took in your savior. He was so classically handsome. When you looked into his blue, blue eyes you felt like you were drowning in them. He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, your heart raced. 

“Get home safe, alright doll?” You nodded, clutching the candy bar to your chest. You took off down the street after giving a soft goodbye. The kindness of strangers had given you more hope than you had in a long time. 

You idly wondered about James as you ate on the bus. Your money problems were still lingering in the back of your mind but your thoughts were clear. 

You tore open the candy bar, taking a bite of the delicious treat. The chocolate melting on your tongue, the sugary sweetness coated your mouth. You got a rush from the sugar and let out a sigh. 

Maybe things were going to be ok, it was a sign that the universe was on your side. 

{}{}{}

You put on your waitress face and did your best to keep up the highest energy tonight. You were all bubbles and giggles throughout the shift. You would smile and laugh at every lame joke a customer would tell you.

Half way through your shift the place was packed. You should be grateful it was busy, you were getting good tips but hadn’t had a moment to breathe since you walked out onto the floor. You carefully balanced a tray of shots and an order of bacon-wrapped dates to drop off before you made it to the party that just sat down in your section. The hostess had put them back in the booth that was partially tucked away with velvet curtains. Big spenders for sure. You smoothed down your dress and tossed your hair over your shoulders as you made your way over. 

“Hiii how are we doing tonight Gentle--” You began your usually bubbly opener, voice high pitched and energetic but as you took in who was sitting in front of you, you stumbled. 

James. Your candy savior. The bodega hero. Him and three other men were waiting to be served. He was wearing a new suit, this one with no tie and a few buttons undone from his shirt. Damn he could really rock a suit, he filled this one out perfectly too. FUCK.  

“Ahem, excuse me gentlemen. So what can I start you off with?” You quickly recovered, grabbing your pad and pen and focusing your eyes on the paper. You prayed that with your heavy makeup and fluffed up hair that maybe he wouldn’t recognize you, or maybe just wouldn’t even remember. 

“Hey there sweetheart, hope my good looks didn’t startle you.” His charming grin grew as you bashfully waved your hand at him.

“Oh I'm used to handsome, it's just a little busy in here tonight. Are we just starting out the night? Maybe with some shots?” You offered with a grin of your own. He seemed pretty pleased with your flattery. James was silent as the other two ordered a round of shots, his gaze was fixed on you. You went to turn to put the order in but as you went James’s hand shot out and he grabbed your wrist. 

You froze and stayed.

“Hold on a minute Doll, you didn’t take my order yet.” His voice was low and easy. You lightly moved your hand out of his grasp to put pen to paper. You nodded to him hoping to get his order. “I want a whiskey. Neat. And bring the whole bottle out.”

“Whoa, we’re getting bottles tonight?”

“Sounds like you guys are going to have some fun!” You said quickly writing down the order with a flourish. This time you managed to escape to put the orders in. As you waited by the bar for the orders you felt your heart racing. It wasn’t just the adrenaline of the fast paced night. Seeing James again had put you completely off kilter. It was humiliating, the last time he saw you, you were crying in the street. He must find you so pathetic. If he even recognized you?

James and his party stayed practically til closing, ordering more and more. The bill they were racking up was so notable that Jeremy himself came out to thank them for their patronage. The other girls were all playfully jealous, it wasn’t you who could normally hook in the big spenders like that. 

“Sadly, it seems we’ve got to end it here. Little guy can’t hold his liquor.” James said motioning to the one you learned was named Sam.

“M’fine.” He slurred. The blonde man who was called Steve laughed and threw an arm around him as he swayed. The two made their way to the exit leaving you alone at the table with James. He smiled at you expectantly. You just wanted the night to be done with. 

“Whenever you’re ready!” you placed down the bill on the table. 

“Hold on Doll, I’m ready now.”  He pulled out a shiny black card from his wallet, and quickly scribbled down on the receipt. You took the card with a smile, ready to go charge it. You glanced down on the tip and your eyes nearly fell out of your head. 

He had given you a 100% tip.

“Problem?” He asked, innocently cocking his head to the side. You glanced at the bill again, rereading it as slowly as you could to try to make sure you weren’t mistaken.

“I think you might have mixed up the tip and the total-” 

“No mistake. I’m tipping for the fantastic service.” 

“I really don’t know how comfortable I am with that James. Is this because of this morning?” Your voice was pathetically small. 

“Oh so you do remember me?” He asked flatly. You looked up at him. His sudden tone made your stomach clench. 

“I mean…of course I do but that’s not very professional of me. I’m sorry-” You immediately tried to amend the situation. This was somehow your fault, you could tell. 

“You apologize a lot. You don’t have to be sorry for getting something you want.” James’s tone was no longer angry. 

“I don’t need pity.”

“It's not pity, Doll. You gave me a service and now I’m paying you what I think is fair. I know you probably aren’t used to people giving you what you’re worth. You probably don’t even know what your worth is, do you?” When his icy blue eyes met yours it was like you were really being seen for the first time. You loved it as much as you hated it. 

“I’m not…I’m not worth anything much. Here’s your card sir, have a good night.” 

You ran off, your face hot with humiliation. 

{}{}{}

You had hoped that would be the end of it. Even with the insane tip from James you were still on the outs with your money. Now that rent could be made there was the electricity, gas, and water. Then the money you would send back to your family, oh and food for yourself. You couldn’t forget that. You kept all ten shifts that you had managed to beg Jeremy for. The big night with James made him much more amenable to your requests. 

It was only for a split second but you saw him at the hostess table. With two different men at his side, there stood James for the second night in a row. You whipped your head around and scurried to the back. 

“Wanda, he’s here again. Again!” You squealed to your co-worker who was just preparing to start her shift. 

“Who, Mr. Moneybags? Well aren’t you lucky.” She said, giving you a playful glare. 

“I don’t want to deal with him again. Please take my table?” you pleaded. 

“Don’t need to ask me twice, I’ll be getting that nice tip tonight.”  She tossed her coppery hair over her shoulder and smoothed down her dress one final time before strutting out onto the floor. 

He wasn’t here for you, you told yourself. You were just being paranoid. Wanda was going to have all of them eating out of her hands by the end of the night, you told yourself as you started out towards your first table. You pushed it from your mind. 

But you couldn’t help but glance over to his table, and the glance was more than enough to see that James was not happy. Wanda and her incredible curves didn’t seem to distract him at all. You could see her laughing and chatting but James was a dark cloud.  

Fine, who cares, he was going to give Wanda a ludicrous tip because he was a generous tipper. He wasn’t pitying you, he wasn’t trying to give you charity, that's just who he is. You scamper towards the kitchen to put in your orders and hopefully hide out a while. 

Wanda came back towards the kitchen, placing her orders and grabbing the food that was ready. Her beautiful smile fading into a line when she made eye contact with you. 

“They were really really insistent that it has to be you tonight. Even just to go over and say hi. ” She said, her tone was dry. Nervous butterflies erupted in your stomach. You bit your lip. What could this possibly mean? 

{}{}{}

You were normally pretty steady in your heels, but the floor was suddenly uneven as you approached James’s table.

“Well hi there, gentlemen. I-I can take your drink orders tonight. Give Wanda a hand.” You babbled, trying not to flub over any words. 

James smirks at you victoriously. He doesn’t need to say anything, his eyes say it all. He had gotten his way.  

The party once again racked up a ridiculous tab.  Nothing was stopping him. The rest of the table had cleared out quickly, leaving just you and James. 

He opened his wallet and laid out the tip, bill by bill. He pushed the fat stack to you, not breaking eye contact once. 

It was multiple hundred dollar bills, but you were too stunned to count. The anxiety that had been building since you first caught a glimpse of James again finally came bursting out of you in a tidal wave. You tossed the cash back on to the table. 

“Please stop. I can’t…I can’t keep doing this, I don’t know what you expect from me.”  You gasped, allowing your facade to crack as you stared up at him with tears wetting your eyes. 

You weren’t scared. But you were confused. This sort of attention must have meant he wanted something from you and…you were fairly certain of what that was. 

“This is how this business works, you did something for me, and I paid for your services.”

“I -- I--” Your breath was caught in your throat as he leaned closer to you to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. 

“Poor thing, you’ve never been treated well in your whole life, have you? I know why you’re so nervous. You’re not stupid, you're really smart. I don’t expect anything from you tonight.”

He took a breath and it was like he was stealing the air right from your lungs. “But. I would like to make an offer, if you’d be interested. I just want one hour of your time.” 

“I’m not a whore.” 

He caught your chin in his hand and made you look back at him, his eyes dark and humorless.

“What an ugly word. Nobody’s calling you that doll. Have dinner with me.” His thumb traced over the apple of your cheek.  

{}{}{}

One hour of your time. You kept thinking about it over and over again. It was just one hour. This ostentatiously wealthy man was paying you to have dinner with him. It’s not a crime. But it felt so dangerous. Sneaky and dirty. Part of it was terrifying but it was also…exciting. 

This restaurant was leaps and bounds above your place of work. It was all very classy. You tugged on your skirt just a bit, hoping you weren’t going to stick out. You were brought through the restaurant, up some stairs to a private party room. It was a huge table, with only two places set,  a glow with dozens of candle’s soft light. The walls were all windows, looking over the restaurant the other a breathtaking view of the city. 

James was waiting for you when you arrived. He looked you up and down appreciatively, his eyes lingering. He stood up like a gentleman when you got to the table. He pulled the chair out for you. 

“Oh um, thank you.” You said as he pushed you into your spot once you were seated. 

“No thanks necessary, Doll.” He placed the napkin from the plate on your lap before returning to the seat across from you. The waiter who brought you up took your drink orders before leaving you alone. 

The door clicked closed and suddenly there was a tense silence between you two. What was next? Were you supposed to say something? Or should you wait for him? 

“I trust the ride over was pleasant?”

“Yeah, um, no issues at all. I’ve never been here before, any recommendations?” Why were you so awkward? Should you be seductive? Should you be professional? Was this a business transaction or a date? Every time your eyes met his he looked hungry. For you. It made you flush. 

“You can get anything your heart desires. Pick out whatever has the most zeros next to the name.” He grinned. “The seabass is pretty good too.”

You wrinkled your nose a bit. “It's not too…fishy is it?” 

“Well it is fish.”

“But is it fishy fish?” James laughed at that. 

“It's a fishy fish. The steak is good too, but it's a steaky steak. So you know.” He joked. It made you laugh a bit too. It was like a spell was cast over you, the tension was released and your nerves vanished. The conversation flowed between the two of you easily.  

Your food came, he didn’t bring up anything. He had asked for an hour of your time, because he was going to propose something to you. You had friends who had “boyfriends” who weren’t really their boyfriends. Men who would pay for the fun that night, but they got paid back in other ways. 

You never had thought of yourself as that girl. But here you were. The anticipation made you nervous but you couldn’t deny the excitement.

He ordered dessert for the two of you, champagne and strawberries with cream and chocolate. 

You glanced at your phone, there was about ten minutes left of “your time” that he had purchased. 

“I hope I’m not so boring that you’re counting down the minutes.” James commented as you put your phone back in your purse. You shake your head.

“No I just…we have some things to discuss right? And an hour is what you asked for…”

“I am willing to pay overtime, if you’re still enjoying yourself. But if we’re down to the minute here, we should talk.” He folded his hands on the table. 

“I like you, I think that we can make something together. You seem like you need some help and call me old fashioned but I just can't resist a damsel in distress. I’m a busy man, with a lot of work and a full schedule, not really much time for dating. Not a fan of the apps either. What I am looking for is an arrangement. I want a companion and can keep you very well compensated for it.”

“So you’ve had…arrangements like this before.” You asked slowly. It didn’t make much sense to you. He was so unbelievably handsome. How could he have trouble finding anyone to be with?. He filled out his clothes so well, his strong square jaw made you want to swoon. How could it be you that he wanted? 

“Yes. Does that bother you?” 

“I-I’ve never done anything like this before.” You admitted. You cleared your throat. “What sort of things are you looking for from your…companion.” Your eyes were suddenly very focused on the bowl of strawberries in front of you. You hadn’t had a boyfriend before, but you’d been with men. Your idea of a sugar daddy was always a creepy old man, desperate for a young thing to fuck. But he didn’t seem desperate at all. The way he pinned you with his gaze was making you feel desperate for him. 

James reached out and placed his hand over yours.

“I am looking for everything. I want someone who’ll keep me company at home, someone I can buy gifts for, someone I can take out on dates.” He squeezed your hand, rubbing his thumb in circles over your wrist. “I’d like someone who’s going to stay the night too.”

Your stomach flipped. You knew what he meant. 

“Ah, like, sleepovers?” You giggled nervously. “I was never allowed to have those, as a kid. I always had to watch over my siblings.” 

“I didn’t have any either. Romanian immigrant parents. They didn’t really…get it?” James smiled, it was different from the grin that had been on his lips all night. It almost seemed shy.  “So maybe we should make up for lost time, hm?”

“But what would it be like? Being your…companion?” You were testing the waters. He was being a bit too vague for your liking. The word sugar baby had never been said but that’s what this was going to be wasn’t it? He wasn’t asking you to be his girlfriend. But he wanted you. And you wanted him. 

Should you get a contract? Or was that only something that happened in trashy romance novels?

He picked the bottle of champagne, his veins bulged in his strong grip. He easily flicked the cork off, popped the champagne with a loud bang that made you jolt. He smirked at your reaction. He poured himself a glass effortlessly then stood, walking to your side of the table. He was completely relaxed, in total control the whole time. 

He towered above you as he poured the bubbling liquor into the champagne flute in front of you. You could smell the rich musk of his cologne. He picked it up to offer it to you.

“If you agree to be mine, I would take you out to nice places like this, buy you whatever you like and then we would keep having fun all night.” His eyes sparkled. Your heart began to flutter, his eyes making you feel like you were the only person on earth. And you could get anything you wanted. 

You took the flute from him. You took a sip of the dry sparkling wine. It tasted expensive. 

“Do you want me to quit my job?” You said plainly. 

“Being CEO means I don't exactly have a 9-5 schedule and neither does a cocktail waitress. I don’t want to have to deal with scheduling around each other. Part of this is about you being available to me. You can take a leave of absence?” He was still standing, but had leaned against the table facing you. The CEO drop gave you a slight pause. You knew he was rich but…you were nervous to ask just how rich. Did it matter? You wondered to yourself. He was so handsome, you didn’t need specifics. You needed him.

“I don’t think that's an option for me.” You said trying not to roll your eyes. 

“Trying not to seem too pushy Doll, but…I want you to quit your job. I’ll be your job from now on. I can cover any of the expenses you’d need a job for. Being mine means spending late nights at my apartment, weekend trips to Europe, I don’t want you to worry about anything but me. If you agree, of course.”

He held out his hand to you. “Or is my time up?” 

You grabbed his hand. Your fingers interlocked. You nodded your head. James smiled and pulled you out of your seat. You quickly stood, eyes looking up into the icy blue pools that captivated you. His lips lightly pressed against yours. It was so soft and romantic, you surrendered to him easily. Your lips moved against him, assuring him, assuring yourself, you could do this. 

“You know why I got the strawberries right?” He asked as he pulled away motioning to the nearly forgotten dessert. 

“Yes…I’ve seen Pretty Woman. They bring out the sweetness of the champagne” You replied smartly. He laughed again. You made him laugh a lot, and every time you did your heart would race.

“I got them because I’m pretty sure you have a sweet tooth. And I thought it could be fun.” He scooped a dollop of cream onto a berry and brought it up to your lips. You obediently opened your mouth, taking a bite of the fruit. The bright, sharpness of the berry was contrasted by the fluffy sweetness of the cream. It was so decadent you needed a minute before you could take another bite. 

He pressed his hands against the small of your back and guided you slowly towards him.

He eased down onto the chair, planting his feet on the floor. 

He gripped your hips and pulled you to straddle his thigh. He guided you down and you followed his lead. You slowly lowered onto him.Your crotch rubbed against his thigh, you grabbed onto his shoulders to try and steady yourself. His fingers went to your dress and hiked it up to your waist.

You let out a gasp, your eyes quickly darting to the door. He grabbed your chin and pulled your focus back to him. 

“You don’t have to worry about anything tonight. You just have to be mine.”  He murmured, his breath fanning over your face. Your face was burning with embarrassment, you’d never been so intimate in public before.

He began to tap his heel making you bounce up and down. His hands went to your ass. The delicious friction made you bite down hard on your lip as your arousal started to mount. 

“James ahh--” You tried to ask but pleasure started to rocket up your core. Your eyes rolled back as he continued to rock you on his thighs. He shushed you, burying his face in your neck. His hands finally left your hips and grasped your breasts.  You moaned at the sensation. You wrapped your arms around his neck, arching your back bringing his face to your cleavage. 

Your hips moved of their own volition now, faster as the sweet ache between your legs grew. 

They glided over and over his thick thighs, building in speed as you chased after your high. Bouncing up and down, no longer concerned with anyone who might see. 

“What do you want?” he gasped. Suddenly stopping you mid thrust, his grip on your ass held you still. 

“Huh?” you whined, wiggling your hips a bit, but he held you firm. 

“Tell me sweetheart, how do I close this deal, what do you want?” James whispered in your ear, letting his breath tickle you. 

“I--” You took a moment. Your panties were soaked through, you could feel your slickness on his pants. You felt so wanton, but this was what you wanted. “I want my rent paid.”

“Done.” 

“And I want a new phone.” He just nodded as his lips connected with your neck. You moaned as he lightly bit down on your neck alternating between pain and sweet kisses. You suddenly felt powerful, more powerful than you ever had in your life. “I also have student loans and money for savings a-and my sister’s starting high school this year and she’s going to need a laptop, so--” 

His lips had finally worked your neck enough and collided with your lips. He kissed you so fiercely, so overwhelmingly hot that you completely lost your train of thought and surrendered to it. 

“Deal.” he panted as he pulled away from your lips, his forehead resting against yours. You started to ride his thigh again, desperate for a release as the coils inside you wind together tighter and tighter.

“Fuck Doll that’s right, use me, ride my thigh, you’re mine now. Show you how good it is to be mine.” James grunted as you chased your high.

Waves of pleasure came crashing over you. You writhed on his thigh, your panties sticking to the sides of your walls as you collapsed forward. Pressing your head to his shoulder, you could feel him chuckling.

You liked being his. You felt small in his lap as he smoothed down your dress. He wiped some of the sweat off your brows. 

You take another sip of the champagne. It wasn’t sweet, but you could get used to it.

[shruiee]

mafia tywin im begging you… how did they meet…. what kinds of nastiness… how does he punish her….

mentions of sa beyond the read more line. be aware

mafia tywin met his sweetie when he was visiting Tyrion’s club, maybe to yell at him or to see if the investment tywin had made into the club was being used appropriately. that same night sweetie was out with her friends as usual, maybe after acing her midterms she drank a little too much and just needed air.

Some random asshole tries to grab you, maybe gets a little too touchy and tries to kiss you but you are very incoherently refusing, pushing him away but he won’t stop.

That’s when Tywin is leaving the club, his town car pulled up to the gates and he notices this drunk dick head trying to wrestle you to a wall. He yanks the man off him and punches him and lets his goon take care of the rest.

(you know how carrying a handkerchief used to be chivalrous?)

You throw up in the gutter behind you, whimpering and coughing, all of this being too much. He gives her you his hanky very expensive and makes sure you either goes back to your friends or back home.

Because his initials are embroidered on the cloth, it doesn’t take a lot for you to internet stalk and find out who he is and where to find him so that you could return his nicely washed hanky. You can’t meet him again however, not without an approved meeting so you leave his hanky at the building reception with a thank you note and a zip lock baggie of cookies.

With that being said, you two fuck around a lot with power dynamics. Tywin just exudes intimidation from every pore and Sweetie just isn’t scared of him. This goes a lot into their bedroom life too. You’re a brat and Tywin knows just how to make you be a good girl.

I mean imagine how funny it would be if you kept airdropping him like pictures of your bra, maybe the nice lacy thong you were wearing while he is in an important meeting with lots of important people and he is older so the poor thing has no idea how to turn off his Airdrop and just sits there with a boner that he uncomfortably tries to cover.

After the meeting where you were waiting in his office so you could have lunch together but now you’re in trouble. He’s all like.

“Had fun playing your little game, did you darling?”

You’re all smirks and giggles.

“We had lunch plans and you were taking forever! I thought you needed some encouragement.”

He bends you over and his massive mahogany office desk, your skirt pulled up to reveal your plump ass. Your tube top pulled down and boobs spilling out of your bra, he used to spank you with his hands at first but then he realized how brazen you really are and his new weapon of choice is his belt.

“If you want to cum tonight my love, you better count nice and loud.”

His office was used to hearing this, the moans and yelps that would manage to pierce through his heavy office doors.

He’d fuck you against the floor to roof glass windows, high up on the 61st floor where you could see all of Casterton. Tits pressed against the cold glass, his big palm wrapped around your throat.

“Just remember sweetie, don’t start games you cannot finish, we could have had a nice lunch hmm, I’d have had my dessert after, had my tongue buried in this bratty cunt.” With every word he’s thrust harder, his regal accent stirring your heart, his hot breath and the smell of his cologne overwhelming your senses everytime.

“But no—” A harsh slap to your ass “You just had to behave like a harlot and embarrass me, what have I told you about disturbing me in my meetings little girl?”

“To wait un— until you’re done…. but I missed you.” you’d whimper, the feeling of an impending orgasm bubbling in your belly.

“Did you now? Go on then, let them hear how much you missed me, be my good little slut.”

hehehehe okie byeeeee

[decayed-cartilage]

The Intern

Masterlist PT 4

Hannibal Lecter x AFAB! Reader

Warnings for chapter: power dynamic? Mentions of erection.. creepy! Hannibal, Morally wrong! Hannibal, Small Smut! Mention of murder

Synopsis: Y/N is on the brink of graduation, with just one requirement left—an internship. Somehow, she finds herself under the esteemed Dr. Hannibal Lecter, a man as brilliant as he is unreadable. Cold, precise, and impossible to rattle, he keeps his thoughts well-guarded. But Y/N can’t help her curiosity—she wants to understand him, to get beneath the surface. And whether he intends to or not, bit by bit, he lets something slip. Something darker. Something she might not be ready to see.

Third person (Hannibal)

Hannibal couldn't rid her of his thoughts, no matter how irrational it was. The girl was hopelessly naive, pitiful in the way she shrank under his slightest disapproval—so easily swayed, so unbearably foolish. And yet, despite her fragility, or perhaps because of it, she had wormed her way into the crevices of his mind, an unshakable fixation.

It was maddening.

She was nothing extraordinary—soft-spoken, nervous, entirely unaware of the danger she courted by lingering too close. And still, he needed her. The thought of her consumed him, nestled deep in the marrow of his being. Even now, in the quiet solitude of the night, she plagued him, slipping seamlessly into his dreams.

“H-Hani-” she moaned pathetically under his crushing weight, small hands scratching his back as her sweet noises almost sounded like pleas’

“Sh sh sh” he tutted, holding her face as the other supported all his weight as he slowly increased the pace which he rocked his hips into hers. “You're doing so good sweetie- g-god- so beautiful” his voice rumbled as he held back groans, instead sinking his teeth into her neck to muffle the noise.

He felt her walls contract around him desperately- almost begging for him to stuff her even though she hadn't said a word, just cried and mewled into his rough skin.

Hannibal jolted upright, his breath uneven, the weight of his dream still pressing against him. The room was dark, except for the faint glow of the moon filtering through the curtains, casting long shadows that did little to cool the heat thrumming beneath his skin. He dragged a hand through his hair, slicking it back, but the gesture did nothing to settle him. What was that? He thought.

The tension in his body was undeniable—tight, lingering, pooling low in his abdomen. His boxers felt uncomfortably restrictive, a stark reminder of just how deeply the dream had affected him. He exhaled slowly, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth, attempting to compose himself, but the sensation of her—soft, yielding, utterly helpless beneath him—clung to him like she would die without him..

He stood abruptly, forcing himself to shake off the lingering heat as he dressed quickly, His fingers barely hesitated as he reached for his phone, dialing without a second thought. It was 1:05 a.m.—an ungodly hour for anyone else, but she would answer. She had to.

She may not have realized the full extent of what she had agreed to when she signed the contract, but that was of little concern to him now. Whether she was awake or not didn’t matter. What mattered was that when her phone rang, she would pick up.

And she did. Not on the first ring, but soon enough.

At first, there was only the sound of rustling—sheets shifting, a quiet inhale—before her voice finally broke through the speaker, soft and laced with confusion.

“H-hello?”

It was barely more than a whisper, cracking slightly, still thick with sleep. The disoriented innocence of it made something in him tighten. She had no idea. No idea why he was calling.

Hannibal’s grip on the phone tightened, his fingers absently smoothing over the polished surface as he listened to the sleepy hesitation in her voice. It wasn’t enough. Hearing her—fragile, unaware, obedient—only stoked the need simmering in his chest. He needed to see her. Right now.

His mind worked quickly, crafting the perfect excuse, something that wouldn’t raise suspicion but would ensure her immediate compliance. Work. Yes, work was always the best justification. She had signed the contract, after all. Even if she hadn’t realized the full extent of its demands.

Clearing his throat, he let a measured calm seep into his voice. “I apologize for the late hour, but something’s come up that requires your attention. I trust you’ll be able to meet me at my office within the next half hour?”

It wasn’t really a question. It never was.

"S-Sir—that's a thirty-minute walk for me—I-it's the middle of the night—" her voice was hesitant, uncertain, almost pleading.

There was a pause. A heavy, deliberate silence that sent a chill down her spine. Then, his voice came through the speaker, smooth and unshaken, yet carrying an unmistakable weight beneath it.

"I’m aware," Hannibal said, as if my protest was nothing more than an observation. "But I wouldn’t have called if it weren’t important. Surely, you understand that."

The way he spoke—it wasn’t a request. It wasn’t even a command. It was an inevitability. Her fingers tightened around the phone as I swallowed hard, already feeling the pull of his words, the unshakable sense that saying no simply wasn’t an option.

She hesitated, gripping the phone tighter as she tried to steady her voice. “I—I do understand, sir, but… it’s really not that simple.” She winced at how uncertain she sounded, but she pressed on, forcing herself to explain.

“It’s the middle of the night. I live far, and my neighborhood… it’s not safe. There aren’t even streetlights, and I—I don’t have a car. Walking that far, alone, in the dark—”

She cut herself off, realizing she was rambling. That she was pleading.

She inhaled sharply and tried again, softer this time, as if appealing to whatever mercy he might have. “I just… I don’t think I can make it there right now.”

For a brief, foolish moment, she thought he might understand. That he’d hear the logic in her words and let her go back to sleep. But then there was silence.

A long, heavy silence that made her stomach twist.

Then, finally, his voice returned—calm, patient, but utterly unmoved.

"You’ve always struck me as a resourceful young woman," Hannibal mused, as if he were merely making an idle observation. "I imagine you’ll find a way."

Her stomach sank.

He wasn’t letting this go.

She glanced toward her window, the street outside swallowed in darkness. The thought of stepping out into it, of walking block after block alone, sent a nervous shiver down her spine. She gritted her teeth, trying to think of an excuse, something firm, something that would make him understand—

But nothing came.

Because deep down, she already knew: there was no argument to be made. No polite refusal he would accept.

If she told him no, would that really be the end of it?

Somehow, she doubted it.

"I…" she started, barely above a whisper. She squeezed her eyes shut, defeated. "Okay. I’ll come."

"Ah, there's my good girl," Hannibal said smoothly, and the line went dead.

She groaned, rolling onto her side as the phone slipped from her hand, landing forgotten on the bed. A muffled scream escaped into her pillow, her body curling inward as a wave of embarrassment and an unfamiliar, tingling heat spread through her.

Begrudgingly, she pulled herself together, slipping into whatever clothes she could find, though the lingering embarrassment still clung to her like a second skin. His simple praise had been enough to override her hesitation, enough to make her consider stepping out into the night just to prove she was capable—just to prove she could obey.

Maybe she could call a cab. Or maybe—just maybe—someone would be lingering in the dorm lobby, someone who could give her a ride. But she was never that lucky.

The clothes she managed to pull together were the same ones she had been wearing—an old camisole, one from years ago, maybe middle school? It fit her more like a crop top now, the hem riding up every time she moved. Her sweatpants, once snug, had long since lost their elastic grip, hanging loosely on her hips from years of wear. She shoved her feet into her Uggs, pulled on her oversized winter coat, and ran a brush haphazardly through her hair before exhaling sharply.

She caught her reflection in the mirror—a mess of tired eyes, messy hair, and exposed skin. This was ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. And yet, she still found herself grabbing her keys and stepping out into the cold night air.

As she locked the door, the creak of another one opening caught her attention. A boy from down the hall was stepping out of his room, tugging a hoodie over his head. Her eyes widened in recognition—she knew him! He was in her social psychology class.

How perfect.

She forced a smile, pushing away the lingering embarrassment still buzzing under her skin. "Hey!" she called out softly, stepping toward him. "Are you heading out?"

He blinked at her sudden enthusiasm, clearly caught off guard. She knew she had never been this forward, this desperate—but she needed that ride.

"Uh, yeah," he said, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. "Just heading to grab something to eat. Why?"

She hesitated only for a moment before forcing another smile. "Would you mind giving me a ride? Just… downtown. I, um, have something important to take care of."

He raised an eyebrow, glancing at her thrown-together outfit—the tiny camisole peeking out from under her oversized jacket, the loose sweatpants barely clinging to her hips. She probably looked insane, asking for a ride in the middle of the night, but she didn’t care.

"Downtown? Now?" He let out a short laugh but didn’t say no. "You in trouble or something?"

She shook her head quickly. "No! No, I just… need to be somewhere. Please."

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright, yeah, sure. But you owe me."

Relief flooded her chest as she nodded. "Yes! totally! Thank you so much- you don't know how badly I needed this.

She climbed into the passenger seat minutes later, staring out at the dark streets, trying to ignore the way her stomach twisted with nerves. She was really doing this.

She slides into the passenger seat, pulling her jacket tighter around herself as the cold still clings to her skin. The boy glances at her outfit—a fleeting look, but she catches it. His brows lift slightly at the camisole barely visible beneath her coat.

"Late-night plans?" he asks, his tone light, teasing.

She forces a small laugh, shifting uncomfortably. "Something like that. Just... work stuff."

He hums in acknowledgment, not pressing further. The car rumbles to life, and as he pulls onto the empty streets, the glow of streetlights flickers across her face. She keeps checking her phone, her fingers tightening around it each time the minutes tick by. She’s already late. She shouldn't be, but she is.

"You good?" he asks after a stretch of silence.

She exhales, only now realizing how tense her shoulders have become. "Yeah. Just tired."

Silence again. The heater hums softly, filling the space between them. Her mind is elsewhere—already at the office, already facing him. She wonders if he’s waiting impatiently, if he regrets calling her at all.

"Where am I dropping you off again?" he asks, glancing at her.

She hesitates. Saying Dr. Lecter’s office feels too personal, too exposing. "Just downtown. Near the courthouse."

He gives her a look—curious, maybe, but not enough to pry. As they near the courthouse, Y/n’s breath catches when she spots a lone figure standing just outside. Hannibal. Waiting. The dim glow of the streetlamp casts long shadows over him, but she can still make out the sharpness of his posture, the stillness of his presence—like an impatient child trying desperately to appear composed.

The driver notices him too. His hands tighten slightly around the wheel, his gaze flickering between her and the man outside. "That him?" he asks, voice low with something unreadable.

Y/n swallows hard, gripping the door handle. "Yeah."

The car slows to a stop, but for a brief moment, she hesitates to move. Hannibal hasn’t taken his eyes off her since she entered his line of sight.

"Thank you," she whispered, barely audible, as she unbuckled and reached for the door handle.

-

As she stepped out, the cold air bit at her exposed skin, sending a shiver down her spine. The car door shut softly behind her, and she hesitated for just a second before turning toward Hannibal.

He stood motionless, watching her with an unreadable expression—waiting. The weight of his gaze made her pulse quicken, but she forced herself to move, forcing one foot in front of the other as she approached him.

Hannibal’s jaw tightened the moment his eyes took in her appearance. The thin camisole barely clung to her frame, exposing far too much skin to the biting cold. The sweatpants, loose and hanging low on her hips, did little to add to her modesty. And then there was the boy—the nameless, irrelevant boy who had driven her here.

His fingers curled slightly at his sides, the only outward indication of his displeasure. He had called for her, and yet she had arrived in another man's car, wearing something so improper. His gaze flickered past her to the boy still sitting in the driver’s seat, his presence an irritation, a speck of dust on an otherwise carefully controlled moment.

Slowly, he exhaled, schooling his features into their usual unreadable calm. "I see you've found a way here after all," he murmured, his voice smooth but laced with something else—something she couldn’t quite place.

A beat of silence filled the air between them for the moment before Y/n spoke “so-”

“You are not to get rides from strange men,” he interupted, his voice clipped, controlled, but unmistakably sharp. “If you truly needed a ride, you should have asked me.”

The weight of his words settled heavily between them, leaving no room for argument. The streetlight cast long shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp lines of his expression. He wasn’t just upset—he was disappointed.

The car’s engine hummed behind her, the driver hesitating for just a second before pulling away. She swallowed hard, suddenly feeling small beneath Hannibal’s gaze, alone.

Hannibal’s gaze sharpened, his expression unreadable as he studied her. The way she stood before him, arms tucked into her oversized coat, eyes wary yet defiant—it only stoked the slow-burning irritation beneath his composed exterior.

“You didn’t seem like you were going to help me, sir,” she murmured, her voice quiet but firm, laced with exhaustion.

His lips pressed into a thin line, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. "If you had simply asked, I would have ensured your safe arrival. Instead, you put yourself in the hands of a stranger."

There was something unsettling about the way he said it—not anger, not outright scolding, but an edge of something possessive, something final. As if the decision had never been hers to make in the first place.

First person (Y/n)

"You know—you’re not my dad. You can't tell me who I don’t get rides from," I snapped, finally pushing back against him. "What if that was my boyfriend?"

Hannibal's expression didn’t shift much, but there was something in his eyes—something dark, something warning. His jaw tightened ever so slightly as he regarded me, his gaze sharp enough to cut.

"If that were the case," he said coolly, stepping closer, "I would be having a very different conversation right now."

His words sent a strange chill down my spine, though whether it was from fear or something else, I couldn't tell. He exhaled slowly, as if reigning himself in, before continuing, "You will not accept rides from men again. If you require transportation, you will ask me. Do you understand?"

I scoffed, shaking my head. "You can't be serious."

His gaze hardened. "I assure you, I am."

There was no use arguing—not when he looked at me like that, as if my defiance was merely a temporary inconvenience, one he could erase with time.

Hannibal’s gaze swept over me, lingering just long enough to make my skin prickle with unease. His jaw was still tight, his displeasure evident, but his voice remained calm—too calm.

"Also, I don’t appreciate your tone," he murmured, stepping even closer, his presence nearly overwhelming. My breath caught in my throat as his hand lifted—just barely grazing the edge of my sleeve, a ghost of a touch. Then, he leaned in, his lips dangerously close to my ear, his voice no louder than a whisper.

"If you insist on behaving like this, little one… I will fix that attitude myself."

A slow exhale left his nose, warm against my skin. "And I promise you, you won’t like my methods."

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering as I forced myself to stay still, to not react—to not let him see how his words tangled in my head, how they made it impossible to think, how I felt my core squeeze and my brain melt like I would sink to my knees right there before him..

Before I could even think of a response, Hannibal’s hand moved—firm and unyielding—as he wrapped his arm around my lower back. The grip was possessive, authoritative, as if I had no say in the matter. A small gasp escaped me, but he ignored it, effortlessly pulling me toward the entrance like I was nothing more than a disobedient child in need of correction.

"You will not question me again," he stated, his voice low and edged with warning.

The warmth of his hand against my spine sent a shiver through me, but I wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or something else entirely. His pace was steady, unrelenting, forcing me to match his stride whether I wanted to or not.

"You should be grateful I tolerate your defiance at all," he murmured, his grip tightening just slightly—a silent reminder of his control. "But I do not have limitless patience, little one. I expect obedience."

The door loomed ahead, and my stomach twisted as he led me inside, his presence swallowing me whole.

Hannibal guided me inside with a grip that was both firm and effortless, his hand pressing against the small of my back, dictating every step I took. The way he handled me—it was humiliating, like I was some wayward child too naive to make her own decisions.

The door shut behind us with a heavy finality, sealing me in with him. I swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of the silence between us, of the heat radiating from his body so close to mine. I dared a glance up at him, but his expression was unreadable—cold, calculating.

"You will not put yourself in a situation like that again," he said, voice smooth but edged with unmistakable authority. "If you require a ride, you will call me. Do you understand?"

I hesitated, my pride flaring for just a second. "I—"

His fingers brushed under my chin, tilting my face up so I had no choice but to meet his gaze. My breath hitched. His touch was deceptively gentle, but the warning in his eyes made my pulse quicken.

"You will learn, little one," he murmured. "One way or another."

The weight of his words hung in the air, thick and suffocating, and I had no idea how to respond. All I knew was that, despite the cold that still clung to my skin, I suddenly felt much too warm.

I tried to ignore everything that had just happened, even as my body betrayed me—impossibly warm under his gaze, under the weight of his presence. I forced myself to straighten up, to steady my breath, to act as if my mind wasn’t spinning.

"Why did you need me here, sir?" I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

Hannibal studied me for a moment, as if deciding whether to entertain my question or continue reveling in my unease. Then, with a slow, measured inhale, he released his grip on me, but the absence of his touch did nothing to ease the tension wrapping itself around my chest.

"There are matters to discuss," he said smoothly, turning away as if he hadn’t just imposed himself into every inch of my thoughts. "Work that requires your attention. I assumed you would be eager to prove your dedication."

There was something about the way he said it—how his voice lingered on the word assumed—that made me feel small. As if I had already disappointed him somehow. I bit the inside of my cheek, nodding quickly.

"Of course," I murmured. "I’m here now."

"Yes," he said, glancing back at me with something unreadable in his expression. "You are."

The fear of disappointing him weighed heavier than any instinct to push back. My throat tightened, my hands curled into fists in my lap, but I said nothing. What was the point? He had already decided how this would go.

Hannibal led me to his office without another word, his grip firm around my lower back, guiding me as if I were something fragile—or something that needed control. The warmth of his hand burned through my thin camisole, and I hated how my body reacted, heat rising to my face despite everything.

The office was dimly lit, the scent of leather and something richer—something undeniably him—filling the space. The door clicked shut behind us, and suddenly, the night felt even quieter.

"Sit," he said, his voice calm but leaving no room for argument.

I did as he asked, sinking into the chair across from his desk. My heart was still racing, my skin prickling with leftover adrenaline. I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to meet his eyes, to push past the way he looked at me like he was dissecting every inch of my being.

Then, after a long silence, he finally spoke.

"Tell me," his voice was smooth, deliberate, "was it the inconvenience that made you hesitate… or do you need reminding of who you answer to?"

His words settled over me like a heavy weight, pressing down on my chest, making it harder to breathe. Did I need reminding? The question twisted in my mind, shame curling in my stomach.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. My fingers curled around the hem of my jacket, gripping the fabric like it was the only thing tethering me to reality. I hated how easily he could unravel me, how a single sentence from him could make me question myself.

"I—" My voice wavered, barely above a whisper. I looked down, unable to hold his gaze any longer. "No, sir…"

The words felt foreign on my tongue, like I was giving something away, something I wasn’t even sure I had. But the way he stared at me—like he already knew the answer, like he was simply waiting for me to accept it too—made it impossible to say anything else.

"Are you sure?" His voice was deceptively calm, but there was something dangerous beneath it, something that made my pulse stutter. "Because sometimes it feels like, with the way you talk to me, you need me to drill it through that thick skull of yours."

His words made me feel small and pathetic—did I really need reminding? The weight of his gaze pinned me in place, and I gripped the edges of my jacket, trying to steady myself. My breath felt uneven, my body impossibly warm despite the chill still clinging to my skin.

"I…" My voice barely made it past my lips, weak and uncertain. I knew better than to talk back, knew better than to challenge him, but somehow, I always seemed to push too far.

Hannibal watched me, his patience unnerving. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, one of his large hands grabbed the top of my head, leaning it back so I'd have to stare up at him

I swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in my throat as I looked up at him, my pride slipping through my fingers like sand. There was no point in trying to argue—he saw right through me, always did. Nothing I could say would ever shake him, so why even try?

"I’m sorry, sir," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. "I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. My attitude was uncalled for, and I should have controlled myself better." I paused, forcing myself to take a steady breath, but it only made me feel smaller under his gaze. "It was just… it just so early, and I can't think clearly—but that’s not an excuse. I know that. I should do better."

I lowered my head, ashamed at how weak I sounded, how desperate I was to make things right. "I just… I want to help with whatever work you have now. Please, let me prove that I can be useful. I really appreciate this opportunity, sir. I mean it."

My hands fidgeted in my lap as I bit my lip, waiting—praying—that he would accept my apology. That he wouldn’t look at me with that same knowing disappointment that made my stomach twist.

Third person POV

Hannibal watched her carefully, taking in every trembling breath, every nervous flick of her fingers. She was just a sweet, misguided little thing—too naive to understand the weight of her own actions. Her outburst had been nothing more than exhaustion taking its toll, a momentary lapse in judgment. Nothing he couldn’t correct.

Her apology, however, was something else entirely. It was gratifying, almost endearing in its sincerity. She wasn’t just saying the words—she believed them. She truly thought she had overstepped, that she had something to make up for. And that was good. That was necessary. Because guidance, after all, was what she needed most. And he was more than willing to provide it.

"You recognize your mistake," he said, his voice smooth, measured. "That’s good. I expect you to learn from it."

He leaned forward slightly, watching how she shrank under his gaze, how easily she yielded. It was almost too easy.

His hand lifted, fingers grazing her cheek with a deliberate softness as he cupped her face, tilting it just enough to keep her eyes on him. “You’re a good girl,” he murmured, his tone smooth yet firm. “I know you can do better. Let’s not dwell on this any longer—let’s get to work.”

Y/N didn’t know why she felt the way she did—why the moment he looked at her like that, all her frustration, all her resistance just melted away. She had been upset, hadn’t she? She should still be upset. But instead, she found herself apologizing, her voice softer than she meant it to be, her resolve slipping through her fingers like sand.

Maybe it was the way he spoke, the quiet authority in his voice that made arguing feel pointless. Or maybe it was the way he looked at her, like he already knew what she was going to say before she said it. It made her feel small—but not in a way that made her want to fight back. It was something else, something heavier.

She wasn’t sure when it happened, but at some point, listening to him had started to feel natural. Right. Like she was to. Even if a part of her questioned it, even if she knew she hadn’t really done anything wrong, the need to please him overpowered everything else.

Hannibal had given her stacks of papers to sort through—documents that, in hindsight, didn’t seem to require her immediate attention. But she didn’t question it. She buried herself in the task, her tired eyes scanning page after page, filing, organizing, highlighting whatever he had instructed. The monotonous work kept her grounded, kept her from thinking too hard about why she was even here at this hour.

The clock ticked on, the world outside slowly shifting from deep night to the earliest whispers of dawn. By the time the hands neared seven, her body ached with exhaustion, her fingers stiff from hours of tedious work. She had started nodding off, her head dipping slightly before she forced herself awake again.

Then, the sharp ring of Hannibal’s phone cut through the silence. He answered it immediately, his posture straightening as his expression turned unreadable. Whatever was being said on the other end had his full attention. And just like that, the stillness in the room was gone, replaced by an unspoken tension.

She paused for just a moment at the sudden disturbance, glancing up to see Hannibal’s gaze shift toward the clock. Nearly 7:30… Had she really been working for five hours straight? A flicker of disbelief crossed her mind—what was she even doing? But before she could dwell on it, she forced herself to keep going, her hands moving on autopilot as she quietly tuned in, secretly listening to the low, measured tone of his voice on the phone.

As she pretended to focus on the papers in front of her, Hannibal’s voice remained steady, carrying a weight of concern that anyone would find appropriate given the situation.

"Where?" he asked, his tone grave. "Has the scene been secured?"

There was a pause as the person on the other end relayed more details—something about the body being found just outside the city, mutilated beyond recognition. Y/N swallowed, a chill running down her spine at the words, but something else made her pause.

Hannibal… smiled.

It was brief, barely there, but she saw it—the faintest curl of his lips before he smoothed his expression into something more appropriate.

Her stomach twisted.

Why… why would he smile at that?

[jedifarmerr]

Untimely - Joel Miller x F!Reader/OFC (AFAB).

Summary: Joel might have a little crush on his business partner, but it’s no big deal - really.

This can be read as either pre-canon or AU. Reader has a nickname, but physical description is a blank slate

Rating: E (18+ no minors)

Warnings/Tags: Joel’s POV, readers dad used to be Joel’s boss, discussion of absent parents (not reader), very minor discussion of parental death (again not reader), Joel is kinda awkward when it comes to dating, workplace relationship but without power dynamics, squint and you’ll find an age gap (no exact age is stated but she does have a college degree), pining and lots of it, denial of feelings and all that good stuff, and smut in general. I’m not gonna tag everything or this would get way too long but consent is clearly stated and does not have any major triggers (to my knowledge, but let me know if you catch something).

Word Count: 23,000. This was supposed to be a short one-shot, but got out of control. Oops. This is separated into two parts on AO3

Note: I’m back!! I know it’s been a hot minute, but I’m very very excited and very very nervous to share what I’ve been working on in my absence. But here it is!

---

The first full week of September, and Austin was deadlocked in a nasty heatwave. 

Days like this made Joel wish he’d chosen a job that involved a roof over his head – or maybe just a little shade. Anything would be better than being crushed under the weight of the cruel Texas sun as it poured down through the bare-bone house. Still, Joel hammered his way through it. Even as the sun baked his scalp and covered every inch of his skin in sweat. 

Joel flapped his shirt to dry the cotton sticking to his chest like silicone glue. His walk was more so a waddle, which was honestly his fault for wearing jeans. The denim chafed against his thighs while combing the work site for any loose supplies. All he wanted to do was hop into his work truck, blast the air conditioning and leave, but instead he diligently checked between every wooden beam and around every corner. Despite the lack of drywall leaving barely any hiding spots, it was insane how often Tommy forgot a power drill behind a tub of paint or cement. 

Or somewhere else incredibly stupid. 

Nothing major today, though. Just a few nails that jingled around in his tool belt as he stepped out onto the future front porch, immediately spotting Tommy. Kinda hard to miss with his big ass head poking out the driver side window while puffing on his daily post-work Marlboro. 

“The engine was making that funny noise again,” Tommy claimed, his voice echoing across the dirt lawns and unpaved driveways of the brand new subdivision. 

Joel walked past the rusty-white hood, but heard nothing other than the usual ancient roar. There was the radio in the cab playing Foolish Games by Jewel – a favorite of Sarah’s. 

“Funny noise, huh?” He eyed Tommy with blatant skepticism before slumping into the dusty cloth seat with a thunk. “Well, sounds like it’s fixed now.” 

“Oh yeah good as new.” Tommy burned the soul from his cigarette, then chucked the butt out the window. “This thing’s gotta be what - 10? 15 years old?” 

“Something like that.” Joel didn’t know off the top of his head. The truck had been a part of the company even longer than him, meaning it had to be somewhere closer to 15 than 10. From what he could recall it’d been a few years off mint condition even when Danny first hired him. 

“Then, how the hell is it still running?” 

“Danny’s a smart man who didn’t buy a shitty Chevy,” Joel lightheartedly jabbed at his little brother – a self-proclaimed Chevrolet man, but only because of his buddies. “He knew that Ford was better - built tough.” 

“Well, ain’t lookin’ too tough now,” Tommy pointed out and Joel shrugged. 

As long as the truck got him from one place to the next, he didn’t care if it was taped together by spit and gorilla glue. He knew for a fact Tommy wouldn’t complain either if a new one was coming out of his wallet instead. 

Tommy threw the truck into reverse. “I’m telling you now, you’re gonna regret not buying a new one sooner.” 

“What are you gonna do?” Joel snorted. “Put some sugar in the gas tank?” 

“I don’t have to sabotage this piece of shit - it’ll crap out on its own soon enough,” Tommy said. “Hell, it could even happen today.” 

“Better not,” Joel grumbled, but otherwise went quiet. He didn’t know why Tommy had to put that idea in his head. Sarah was waiting for him at the shop. He couldn’t imagine a worse day for the truck to break down. 

For a mile or so, Joel sat on the edge of his seat, carefully listening to the bumps and groans – typical for a truck around Sarah’s age. The engine rattled as Tommy merged onto Highway 183, but it always did when accelerating. He swore it did. 

Whatever – enough. 

There was paperwork to do. Today’s timesheets were in the glovebox, only halfway complete. So, he pulled out the folder and set to work. At least it offered a distraction from the brakes screeching like a horde of bats during rush hour traffic. 

“Did you ever hear from the concrete guys?” Tommy turned down an obnoxiously loud ad for a car dealership in town. 

Grunting, he curtly nodded. His pen found Harry’s Concrete at the bottom of the sheet and promptly scratched it out with scathing red ink. Just seeing their name triggered a sour taste in his mouth. 

He was used to the concrete guys being flaky, but not like this. These last couple months had been like dandruff in the winter. Brutal. Today, the bastards didn’t even have the balls to call until after lunch. No excuse, either. 

“Third day in a row,” Tommy just had to say, as if he needed a nudge. “In my opinion - I think it’s time to hire somebody else.” 

“Well, you know who to share that opinion with, and it ain’t me,” Joel chided – annoyed. It drove him crazy how often Tommy needed to be reminded of simple things, like what Joel’s role in the business entailed. For God sake – it’d been over a year now since he became a partner in the company. 

Joel could initially understand the confusion. After all, Danny had run the business as a one-man show and everyone, including Joel, thought his daughter would fully take over once he retired. Danny had always said that was the plan anyway, and even named the place: Teddy’s Company. 

Originally, Joel had thought Teddy was her real name until three years ago when he finally got the chance to meet her. But how was he supposed to know when Danny never called her by anything else? It wasn’t like Joel had known much about her back then either, and what little he did came from Danny’s vague and blue-moon updates. 

College is going well. 

Her new job’s treating her good. 

She moved into a new place, seems to like it. 

Short – brief. Some people probably thought Danny was being crusty but that wasn’t the case. No, Danny was never rude or mean, just quiet. A man of few words who on his more mute days could even make Joel look chatty. 

Before meeting her, Joel used to wonder what she’d be like. His future boss. There was a mystery around her that made her seem almost mythical, an enigma. She was like Willy Wonka with her name plastered all over the place: on his shirts, the side of the truck, front and center of the shop. But Joel had no idea who she was. 

Even with a gun to his head, he couldn’t have picked her out of a crowd. Or even a line-up. The only picture he’d seen of her was in a popsicle frame on Danny’s otherwise bare desk: The two of them at a petting zoo where she couldn’t be older than six. 

Without much to go by, Joel had simply assumed that she would look and act, at least somewhat similar to her dad. He’d built Teddy up in his mind as a strong, burly woman who was gruff around the edges. Someone with a sailor’s mouth and stubby fingernails embedded with dirt and grit and grout.

Instead, they were fake and baby pink. She looked like she had never changed a tire in her whole life. 

She probably hadn’t, but she was without a doubt smarter than Tommy and him combined. A graduate from some fancy university in California with an equally fancy business degree. Charming with a nice, smooth voice perfect for sales. If she went to a random street corner to sell bags of cow manure she could sucker anyone, even him, into waiting in line to buy one. 

She was down-right impressive. Finances, pitches, and permits, she could do it all. However, the other side of the business – the manual labor, a little more dirty. 

Joel had not a doubt in his mind that she had the ability to learn it, but did she want to? 

Hell no. 

For one, she had this irrational fear over being electrocuted. Back before Danny retired and she first started working at the front desk, Joel had walked in on her changing out a lightbulb, and you would’ve thought a snake had popped out of the ceiling. He’d mistaken it for a fear of heights until a few months back when Sarah refused to let him shower during a rainstorm. Sarah had looked hysterical using her lanky-arms to body-block the stairs, warning him that he’d get fried if he went up there. 

“Don’t you know dad, lightning can travel through plumbing? Teddy was telling me all about it today.” 

Joel didn’t have a clue where that particular fear stemmed from, but her vendetta against attics, now that he could understand. After all, she’d probably still be in California if not for her dad’s accident. 

It was never Danny’s plan to retire so early. Despite the appointments and constant physical therapy, it’d still caught Joel by surprise, though not as much as Teddy’s offer to run the business alongside her. Together. 50/50. Sure, it came with this boring paperwork, but a bigger paycheck as well. Only a fool would’ve turned that down. 

Besides, promotion or not – he would’ve stayed and worked for her, regardless. 

—

Back at the shop, Joel would usually help Tommy unload the truck, but not today. 

Instead, Joel tucked the file under his arm, hung his tool belt on the rack, then made his way through the garage. He entered through the back door, letting it slam behind him. The cool air greeted him, tingling his tacky skin and he shivered. 

The vents rumbled inside the white hallway walls, echoing around the shop. Along with two voices coming from the lobby. When he heard Teddy’s laugh, he ran a quick hand through his hair, fixing the damp strands away from his forehead. 

He rounded the corner and Teddy was at her desk. Everything from her neck down was cut-off by the high-glass counter, making her look like a floating head. A very nice-looking floating head or a nice head to look at or -

Whatever. 

She was smiling at him – that same honey-golden smile that welcomed him every morning. The same smile he wished was here to welcome him every evening, as well. But with how late he worked most days, it was a hit or miss. He could never guarantee she would still be here, except on the days with Sarah. 

“You’re late,” Sarah said before he could even say hi. 

Joel glanced at the clock above the front door. 5:45. 15 minutes. 

“Barely.” Anything less than thirty was a win in his book. It didn’t matter that Teddy chose to stick around and keep Sarah company, he wouldn’t push it. She was his business partner – not a babysitter. 

“Still late.” Sarah stepped away from Teddy’s desk with her arms crossed menacingly over her chest. If not for the twitch of her lips, she would’ve appeared deadly serious. The girl never could keep a straight face though for more than a second. 

“Let me guess, you’ll forgive me if we can get McDonald’s on the way home?” 

Bingo. Sarah tapped on the tip of her nose and Joel huffed a laugh. 

“Well, Uncle Tommy drove, but we can ask-” 

“We?” Sarah looked at him like he was crazy before shaking her head. “I think I’ll handle this one on my own.” 

“What’re you trying to say?” He asked and her lips curved into a half-cocky, half-play smirk that screamed teenage girl. A stage of life he felt rather unprepared for, even more so than diapers and potty training and 6th grade math. The teenage years were bound to be harder than statistics and exponents and long division. 

“Come on, dad. When has Uncle Tommy ever said no to this?” She showed off her best puppy dog eyes and alright – yeah, poor Tommy didn’t stand a chance. 

But Joel didn’t tell her that. He couldn’t. He was too stunned that the little girl who used to hide behind his legs at the grocery store was the same one who was strutting down the hallway now without even glancing back. 

He shook his head in disbelief and looked over at Teddy. “I don’t know where all this confidence of hers has come from recently,” he said, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the now-shut door. “But I’m guessing it has something to do with you.” 

“Me?” She fluttered her lashes like she was clueless – definitely something she wasn’t. 

“That’s right,” he replied as he approached her desk. Her area always smelled clean and homey like fresh laundry in a field of wildflowers. The last thing he wanted to do was invade her perfumed bubble with the stench of his sweat and that specific twang that came from being outside all day. So, when he caught a strong whiff of her perfume, he stopped and propped his hip against the desk before saying, “I think you’re rubbing off on her.” 

“And is that such a bad thing?” She squinted at him and unlike Sarah, she could actually keep a straight face. 

“No.” He firmly shook his head. “In fact, I meant that as a compliment.” 

In an instant, her flat-line lips split into a wide grin. He smiled in return, stupidly pleased with himself for making her light up like that. His gaze momentarily dropped from her lips to the single button left undone on her shirt. The charcoal gray fabric shined in a way that reminded him of moonlight over Travis Lake. It looked soft and smooth as butter. And not to mention expensive. Joel bet if he touched it, even so carefully, the material would immediately snag under his callouses. 

Teddy motioned for the file and when he handed it over, he felt a draft under his armpit from the hole in his shirt. He glanced down at his jeans, covered in dirt and mud and sawdust. Filthy. He felt a twinge of self-consciousness. It was hard not to feel like a mess next to her sometimes when she was always dressed so goddamn professional with her pressed slacks and tucked in shirts. Anyone who saw her would think she worked for some big corpo with a koi pond in the lobby. Not a Morton building with more garage than office space. 

“They didn’t show?” 

Teddy’s voice jolted his attention back to her face. Her lips were pinched, her cherry red fingernail was bleeding into his own pissed-off pen marks. He mentally cursed himself for being too wrapped up in his own stupid head to warn her about the concrete guys. Good going, idiot. 

There was nothing he could do about it now, except frown and shake his head. “They called and said-” 

“Let me guess, they’ll be there first thing tomorrow?” She bitterly scoffed, clipping the folder shut. The manila spine crunched under her grip before she abruptly turned away from him to face the wall of cabinets behind her. She never said it out loud that it bothered her, but clearly it did and rightfully so. 

Working here this long Joel had witnessed these same people treat her dad with respect only to now try and walk all over her. He found it complete and utter bullshit, but was it a surprise? Sadly, not really. Enough years around construction sites and his tinnitus resembled cat-calls more than a compressor. 

Still, he fucking hated it. His left eye flinched watching her file away the folder in silence. The protective lobe in his brain flared as his fingers curled and burned into a fist at his side. God – he wanted to go to Harry’s Concrete and give that bald loser a piece of his mind and maybe a black eye, but he didn’t. 

He wouldn’t. 

No – instead, he continued to bite his tongue until his mouth flooded with the taste of pennies. He’d become used to the tang of copper in his mouth after the roofers, the plumbers, even the electricians that tried her in the past. The only reason he held himself back was because of her. Because she asked him to let her deal with it, and she was perfectly capable of handling things herself. Better than him at it, in fact. 

Teddy slammed the drawer shut, rattling the entire cabinet. “I’m not gonna fire them.” 

“Okay,” he said without having to think twice. He didn’t expect her to fire them, honestly.  She’d explained to him before that she’d never burn bridges prematurely. The grass was not always greener on the other side, especially not in Texas. Especially not in this line of work. 

“Or - I should say I’m not going to fire them yet, anyway.” Her voice was steady – determined. “But one more and it’s over. I’m gonna let Harry know that he’s on his last strike when I call him tomorrow.” 

“Give ‘em hell,” he encouraged her. Whatever she said in those calls had, so far, been enough to whip everyone who crossed her into shape. Just once, he wished he could be a fly on the wall to witness her in action. She didn’t look particularly tough, but he imagined her being like an asp caterpillar, fuzzy and harmless until poked.

She didn’t linger on the topic, and instead asked about his day. He did the same. Neither had much to report outside the usual. 

“So, how was Sarah today? Did she talk your ear off about the homecoming dance coming up?” 

She giggled, gathering up the papers on her desk and stacking them into a neat pile in the corner. “How did you know?” 

“Cause she found out Monday, and hasn’t talked about anything else since.” 

“Oh and it’s only just begun,” she said with a smirk. “Welcome to your life for the next few weeks, Joel.” 

Joel scratched at the spot where his temple was already beginning to throb. Why did they have to announce it so early? It was great seeing Sarah so excited, but she kept asking him about his own first homecoming. He hated lying to her, but he couldn’t very well tell her the only thing he remembered was Rachel Borthwick and how she let him feel her up – the first boobs he ever touched – underneath the gymnasium bleachers. The thought of Sarah being that same age made him want to throw up. 

He swallowed the thought before it came out all over her desk. “Were you the same way at her age?” 

“Oh yeah. I’m sure if you asked my dad, he’d tell you I was worse.” She snorted, almost seeming embarrassed by her younger self. “For some odd reason, I had it built up in my mind that it’d be like that prom scene from Grease. Minus the broadcast and all that-” 

“Wait, your dance wasn’t on the news?” He tried to keep a straight face, but he was just as bad as his daughter. 

“Shut up.” She playfully shoved his arm and he rubbed it like it hurt. She rolled her eyes, but continued anyway. “My dad didn’t have the heart to tell me, so it was a pretty huge letdown when they didn’t even play Born to Hand Jive. I think I even requested it.” 

“How did you survive?” 

“It’s a miracle,” she said, and he huffed out a laugh. Three years later, and she still surprised him with every new story she chose to reveal. 

There was a split-second where the only sound in the room came from the buzzy-white fluorescent lights above him. Teddy stole a quick glance towards the hallway, as if checking if Sarah was back. She had still not reappeared and he wondered if Tommy had baited her into helping him unload the truck or maybe just sticking around to talk. 

Teddy clicked her fingernails on the counter in front of him. “Real quick, I wanted to ask,” she said before clearing her throat. “Have you and Sarah talked at all about dress shopping?” 

Joel shifted back a step, his boots scratching against the cheap, gray carpet. “Dress shopping?” He forced the words from his throat, then shook his head. He looked away, feeling a pit in his stomach that reminded him of Muffins for Mother’s Day in elementary school – Mommy & Me at the daycare. 

Again – dress shopping was another one of those things girls usually did with their mom’s, but Lisa wasn’t meant to be a mom. She’d even said so herself in the note she left next to her engagement ring on the day she vanished with their dog. Joel wished his own mom was still around to help fill in when the gaps felt too big for him, but sadly, she had passed away before Sarah turned 4. Since then, it’d only been just Tommy and him. 

“The only reason I ask is because,” Teddy started, clutching at the dainty gold chain around her neck, “Well, she sorta asked me to take her.” 

“Oh.” Joel didn’t know what else to say. Not that it offended him or anything petty like that. God no – he wasn’t delusional enough to think that he would be Sarah’s first choice when it came to fashion. After all, his idea of dressing up was a flannel and whatever jeans were clean. Teddy made a lot more sense than him. 

“I didn’t give her an answer, just so you know. I wanted to check with you first.” Her voice was rushed, slightly pitchy, and he realized this was the first time he’d ever seen her even remotely nervous. She must be just as cautious as him about crossing whatever line was supposed to exist in this…relationship? Dynamic? 

Joel smiled at her, softly, hoping to ease her anxiety. “Well, thank you,” he said and she appeared to relax at his calm tone. “I have no problems with you taking her, as long as you wanna do it.” 

“Of course, I want to, but are you - are you sure? I mean, you could always come with us if you want. We could all go together?” 

The offer was tempting, but he declined. He knew Sarah would enjoy it being just the two of them. It could be girl time or whatever. 

Teddy pulled out her planner to check on what dates would work best when Sarah came back in. Once she heard the good news, the victorious grin on her face somehow grew even bigger. The last time he saw her that excited was when he surprised her with tickets to Six Flags for her 11th birthday. 

Teddy and her started to discuss which stores to hit and what mall would be best, basically a foreign language to him. He should’ve started on closing duties, but instead he found his gaze drawn to Teddy. How she appeared equally as thrilled as Sarah. He always could tell when she was excited by the way she talked with her hands. That smile was downright infectious and – 

He noticed Sarah watching him. Her quizzical eyes were glued to his face. Shit. He was staring. Quick. Joel forced a smile at Sarah that hopefully said nothing-to-see-here. He didn’t stick around to wait for her reaction and instead, fled into his office. 

For a few minutes, he pretended to check over files and went down the list of closing duties, completely avoiding them until the only thing left was setting the alarm. Finally, he dared to look in their direction again. When he saw Sarah’s focus was entirely on Teddy, the tension drained from his shoulders. 

He thought he was in the clear. 

—-

“Dad, do you think Teddy’s pretty?” 

Joel’s head whipped up and a sharp, pointy fry was lodged into the back of his throat. It burned and stabbed its way down to his esophagus. For a second, he thought he was going to choke and die at his own dining room table from a McDonald’s fry. 

“What?” His voice crackled like sandpaper from holding in a cough. 

“She asked if you thought Teddy was pretty?” Tommy repeated, loud and clear with a smug grin that he didn’t even try to hide behind his Big Mac. 

Joel’s gaze flickered from one set of brown eyes to the next. He was cornered, his back against the bay window. No way out and no one to blame but himself for this mess. He was, after all, the dummy who got caught. 

Joel held up a waiting finger, then slowly sipped on his coke to calm his burning throat. He wiped his mouth with a napkin as he wrapped his head around what to say. Lying was out of the question. It seemed more damning than the truth. 

The thing was – there was nothing wrong with finding her attractive. It didn’t have to mean anything. It wasn’t like she was asking if he liked her. Not that he did like her. Well, maybe just a little. Just a teeny, tiny crush but it was nothing really. Stupid, honestly. For the most part, he could ignore it. 

Joel cleared his throat and gave a casual shrug. “Uh yeah, she’s uh - she’s pretty.” 

Despite his best attempt at cool, Sarah’s lips still flickered. Only the corners, as she continued to bathe her fries in a pool of ketchup. 

“Have you ever thought about - maybe asking her out?” 

A deep laugh barked in his ears and bounced around the tile floor like spiky ping pong balls. “Come on, Teddy’s way out of his league.” Tommy’s hand collided against his shoulder with a hard thwack. It slightly stung. 

But Joel didn’t take it too seriously. Tommy hassling him over Teddy was nothing new. Ever since she started working the front desk, it’d been Tommy’s favorite gag. In a weird way, Joel considered it a good thing that he saw it as one big joke. If Tommy had any idea about his silly crush, he would’ve kept his mouth shut instead of teasing him. Tommy might’ve been a lot of things, but he wasn’t cruel. 

Sarah didn’t seem to care whether it was a joke or not and scolded her uncle from across the table. She gave him a hard glare before turning back to Joel. She blinked expectantly, not letting him out of this. 

Joel sighed. “Sorry, kiddo, but I don’t think so.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because.” He licked his teeth and sucked a stuck piece of meat from between his molars. There was a laundry list of reasons, but he went with the least complicated. “We work together.”

“So? Two teachers at my school are dating, and it’s no big deal. They didn’t even get in trouble.” 

“Wait,” Tommy piped in with a mouthful of bun and sauce. “Isn’t she dating someone?” 

Joel swallowed down the salty taste in his mouth, bitter like vinegar. He nodded. “Yeah, I think so.” 

“You think so?” Sarah looked at him with clear suspicion. “So, she didn’t tell you that.” 

“Well…no. But-” 

“Then, how do you know?” 

Joel crinkled the empty wrapper into a tight ball, then tossed it into the paper bag. “Somebody sent her flowers at work. Nice ones too.” Too grand to fit in her car, so instead they lived and died in the tiny break room directly across from his office. 

“When?” 

Three months. “I don’t know, not that long ago.” 

“Well, how do you know they weren’t from her dad?” Sarah asked, not backing down. “Or maybe her friends sent them?” 

Joel shook his head, recalling the stupid plastic holder that had poked out at him like a giant weed among the long stem roses. “The card said Happy Anniversary.” 

At that, Sarah sank into the chair like a deflated balloon. She shoved a whole chicken nugget into her mouth – no sauce. Each dry crunch-crunch grated against the silence. 

This recent interest in his love life was new. He wondered if it had something to do with her age or maybe all those rom-coms she watched. She’d never cared about him dating or – she did try to set him up once, a few months ago, with her best friend’s recently divorced mom, but when he shot it down she had quickly moved on. 

But she didn’t even finish her chicken nuggets. He noticed a faraway look in her eyes – his eyes, one of the only things she inherited from him. She was somewhere deep in her head, in that big brain of hers that definitely didn’t come from him. 

She did eventually perk up when Tommy brought up the new season of the Bachelor, but still wasn’t her usual self. So after Tommy left, Joel settled in beside her on the couch to watch Friends. This show was like her pacifier. Sick or just a bad day, one of Joey’s jokes could cheer her up instantly. 

Not today, though. A whole episode later, and she’d barely said a word. Barely laughed, which had him really concerned. He got the sense that whatever was bothering her was something bigger than just Teddy. 

“You’re quiet tonight.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and snugged her closer. She collapsed into him like a domino. Full cheeks squished against his shirt. She didn’t respond, and he didn’t press. Only can-laughter existed in the space between them. 

Laying like this reminded him of when she was a baby. So tiny, a full head of hair even then. She would fall asleep on his bare chest while waiting for Lisa to return home from work. Looking back, the signs had always been there that one day she would run. She’d practically lived at her job after her maternity leave was done. Hell, she didn’t even take the full 6 weeks. Post-partum, the doctor called it, it’ll get better in time. But it didn’t. There was no medication cocktail that could make her want this life – that could make her want to stay. 

“Can I ask you something?” Sarah’s eyes didn’t leave Phoebe and Monica. 

“Anything,” he murmured against her hair before placing a light kiss to the top of her head. She no longer smelled of Johnson & Johnson or desitin, but coconuts and lime. 

“Are you lonely?” 

Even with her feathery-soft tone, the words hit him like a sucker punch, square in the jaw. Where the hell did that come from? 

“Do I seem lonely?” The words left him like a reflex, automatic. It was the second time tonight she’d caught him off-guard. 

“I don’t know.” She shrugged, her shoulders sliding along his t-shirt. “Are you?” 

Slowly Sarah lifted her head – her big eyes bore into him and when he could trace every concerned line on her young face, the guilt smothered him like wet mineral wool. It was his job to worry, not hers. 

He urgently shook his head. “No. Of course not.” 

She silently stared at him, squinting as if somehow it would give her Professor X’s ability to read his mind. Clearly, he did not convince her and so he tried again. Harder. 

“Sarah, listen. I am perfectly fine, alright?” He brushed a curly strand of hair from her face, firmly holding her gaze. “If I was lonely, I’d go do something with Uncle Tommy. He’s always asking me to do things after work-” 

“Why don’t you?” 

Joel couldn’t help but chuckle at her confusion. Of course, she wouldn’t understand. Teenagers always wanted to be out somewhere, doing something with their friends.

“Cause I’m old. And I’m tired. And honestly, I’d rather be home.” With you. The last part never slipped through the gap in his bottom teeth. He never wanted to make Sarah feel guilty for leaving him and living her life. 

“You’re such a hermit.” She nudged at his chest, a smile sweeping across her face. Exactly what he’d been missing. 

“I prefer homebody,” he corrected, making her burst into a giggling fit. He waited until she went quiet to say, “Either way - you ain’t gotta worry about me, alright?” 

Once again, her expression turned very serious. Her eyes darted once, twice, across his face. “Swear?” 

“On my life.”

—

Later that night, Joel laid awake in bed fighting to find a comfortable position. Even sprawling out in the middle didn’t work. The sheets were tangled around his legs, his feet – his thoughts equally twisted up from Sarah’s question earlier. 

Are you lonely? Was he? 

Joel had never considered himself to be lonely. Not really. Or not all the time, at least. For the most part, Sarah and work kept him busy enough that he never gave it much thought. 

If he did think about it though, he supposed crawling into bed alone every night could get a little depressing. He was still human, after all. Intimacy was a basic human need. It was just simple biology when he occasionally craved a soft touch or someone to talk with before drifting off to sleep. It’d been a long damn time since he experienced either of those things. 

Maybe Sarah was onto something. Maybe it was time for him to get back out there, but oh God. Just thinking about it made him light-headed. 

Where would he even start?

His last serious relationship was his only serious relationship. After Lisa left, there was hardly any time for that. Being a single dad, dating wasn’t his top priority. 

Sure, he’d managed to squeeze in a few first dates over the years, even less second ones, and he couldn’t for the life of him recall a third. If so, it’d been nothing worth remembering. 

Honestly, the only person he’d considered asking out recently was Teddy. It was just a dumb idea that crossed his mind sometime in late spring when too much tree pollen and dust mites must’ve gotten into his head. He’d luckily come to his senses and fast. A few short weeks later, those damn flowers showed up. 

If he was being honest, no one else really interested him. 

And how could they? 

It wasn’t even just about her looks, she was sweet and smart and surprisingly funny. Joking or not, Tommy was right – she was way out of his league and why was he thinking about this right now? Joel cleared his mind with a hard shake of his head. He needed to stop, get some sleep. He didn’t want to know what time it was already. Without looking at the clock, he flipped onto his side, fluffed his pillow, then shut his eyes. 

Within seconds, Teddy slithered back into his mind with her perfect smile, the delicious scent of her soap, and those jeans she would undoubtedly wear tomorrow. Casual Friday might actually be the death of him. Denim on her hips was seriously a sin.  

Just thinking of her fully-clothed ass made his cock twitch inside his boxers. Somehow that was enough to get him half-hard, the tip snagging over the soft-cotton. 

Joel groaned in unison with the bed springs as he flopped onto his back. His palms itched to reach down and squeeze at his cock for a little relief. But he resisted, and forced his mind to somewhere far less pleasant. Broken wires. Wrong-size headers. Clogged drains. A memory of her gripping a PVC pipe invaded his brain and suddenly, it was her small hands wrapped around him instead. How would she look on her knees for him? Would she be able to fit him all in her two hands? If not, would she use her – 

“Fuck.” Joel gritted his teeth and fisted at the comforter. Get a grip. 

He felt like he was going crazy. Probably from the lack of action outside of his own fist. It was finally catching up with him. Tommy did warn him this would happen and fuck – he hated when Tommy was right. 

Joel thought back to the last time he had sex and cringed. Two years ago, but the memory was tattooed in his brain just like the monarch butterfly on the random woman’s lower back. It happened at a sleazy bar where everyone knew Tommy by name. He’d taken too many shots of Wild Turkey, then found himself fucking the woman in a one staller, quick and sloppy, right next to a clogged toilet. Not his proudest moment. He’d go to the grave blaming the whole thing on Tommy, who treated their rare nights out like the bachelor party he was still pissed off that he didn’t get to throw. 

The truth was though, even before Joel’s current involuntary celibacy, his sex life had been relatively non-existent. 

He hadn’t had sex on a semi-consistent basis since his 20’s. A casual hookup with a lady named Amy, who lived in the same apartment complex as him. No-strings attached. An arrangement born out of pure convenience rather than desire or intense lust. She lived in the apartment below him, and once a week came up after Sarah went to sleep and left before the condom hit the trash can. No surprise it ended once he moved out, and ever since then, it’d been random hookups and one-night stands whenever Tommy and him went out for a night. 

Joel sighed and stared up at the moon-stain ceiling of his bedroom, careful not to make any sudden movements in hopes to fight down his erection. While still and quiet might’ve worked to spook a black bear, his boner was sadly proving more resilient. 

With every passing minute, the warm tingly feeling in his belly spread like weeds through his body. His fingertips down to his toes. Fully hard, now. It became clear ignoring it was useless. He would just have to get this over with, so he could get some sleep tonight. 

Joel forcibly kicked off his blankets, then shoved down his boxers. His cock thwacked against his stomach and the tip was already shiny. He preferred to do this in the shower to avoid a mess, the steady stream of water helping to cover up his dry, cracked hands better than saliva. But something was better than nothing. He spit into his hand until his mouth was dry, then wrapped it around his cock. 

Whether in the shower or in his bed, it didn’t matter, Joel always jerked off like it was a chore. Hard and fast strokes where he could barely catch his breath. No need for soft and sensual, just a tight fist to take the edge off. This way, he found it easier to keep his less than friendly thoughts of Teddy at bay. 

He tried his best not to think about Teddy while doing this because friends don’t imagine their friends while fucking their fist. And that was all she was, all she would ever be – a friend. If he could he wouldn’t have thought of anyone at all, but he needed someone to imagine to get off. 

Instead of Teddy, he pictured a cover model from a 90’s Penthouse Magazine that he’d found in the guest room after Tommy moved out. A pretty brunette with big natural tits, who he didn’t have to work with tomorrow. 

His room steadily filled with the wet slap of his hand, the low thrum of the oscillating fan as he pretended the nameless woman was riding him. He was brutally fucking his fist when the woman shape-shifted into Teddy. So abruptly that he could barely register that it was her taking him down to the hilt. Her rolling her hips. Her fingernails scratching over his ribs, his shoulders, his chest with a little smirk even more sinful than her tight jeans. 

“Shit,” Joel hissed when he realized, but too late – his hips surged forward as he came. So sudden, so fast, it almost gave him whiplash. 

Joel was not usually loud during sex, more of a grunter than anything else, but it had never been so vivid. So real. He could practically feel the wet-heat of her cunt clenching around him. He had to snag his bottom lip between his teeth to keep every needy and desperate sound from bleeding out of his mouth as his cock pulsed and throbbed against his palm. He wouldn’t let himself find out what her name tasted like when he moaned. 

Clearly, this was not the first time she’d popped into his mind and he doubted it would be the last. He wouldn’t feel nearly as bad about it either, but there was a fuck-ton of cum on his stomach. Even a little on his chest. Fuck – he came so hard it made him lightheaded. 

He let the shame simmer down and once he caught his breath, he carefully dug out a travel-pack of Kleenex from his nightstand. He didn’t even wanna count how many tissues it took to wipe the syrupy-hot evidence from his skin. 

He’d be sticking to the shower from now until forever. 

—

The days had come and went and over a week later, Joel had not jacked off again. Not in the shower, and definitely not in his bed. But that had nothing to do with Teddy. Seriously. It was just a coincidence. 

Work had picked up. The heat wave had died out, giving way to more 80 degree days. Fall was fast approaching, by far their busiest season. There was a brand new neighborhood of bland cookie-cutter slab houses that had him working doubles everyday and judging by today, this week would be the exact same way. 

The streets were dark and mainly deserted by the time Joel dropped Tommy off at his apartment complex. Joel glanced at his phone – once again – for any missed calls before heading home. Still nothing. No new voicemails – 0 messages. 

The first and last time he heard from Sarah was after Teddy picked her up from school, right before heading into the mall. He’d told Sarah to call him once Teddy dropped her off, but she must’ve forgot. The same way she always forgot to lock the front door. He would be home in less than 5 minutes or else he would’ve called. But he would rather give her a talking-to in person. 

For a second, he wondered if she and Teddy were still at the mall, but it was late. Nearly 9. 

No one could spend 5 hours there. Hell, he could barely spend more than 2 without going stir-crazy. 

The last thing he expected when pulling onto his street was to see Teddy’s car parked in front of his house. The pearly white shell was perfectly lit up underneath a street light. 

What was she doing here?

He thought she would drop Sarah off and dip after their shopping trip, but obviously not. Dear God, he hoped she wasn’t waiting on him. Joel whipped into his driveway and hopped out without bothering to grab his tool box in the back. 

Inside, the living room was lit up with every lamp turned on, but otherwise empty. It was still tidy from the cleaning he did on Sunday, thankfully. He threw his keys on the console table, shutting the front door with his foot. He heard movement upstairs and headed that way. 

“Sarah,” he called out, mainly to give a heads-up and not scare them. “I’m home.” 

“Finally,” Sarah said as he stepped into her room. It smelled like that Body Works store at Barton Creek that Sarah loved, but always had him leaving with a headache. 

He stayed close to the fresh air and leaned against the door frame. Sarah was perched at her vanity, the counter in front of her completely buried under make-up, nail polish, and a bunch of other crap. 

“Teddy’s helping me decide what to wear with my dress.” Sarah swiveled around in her stool to face him. 

“Yeah, I see that.” Joel looked over at Teddy, who was standing behind Sarah with an earring pinched in each hand. The smile on her face was genuine. If she was in any real hurry to leave she didn’t show it. “When did y’all get back?” 

“I don’t know. 8:15? 8:20? Somewhere around there.” Sarah shared a shrug with Teddy. A little over thirty minutes, not bad. With the mess, he would’ve thought closer to an hour. 

“Dinner took a bit longer than I thought it would,” Teddy explained and his brows furrowed. 

“Busy night at the food court or something?” 

He noticed Sarah and Teddy share a secretive glance, and of course, they didn’t eat at the food court. He should’ve known better than to think Teddy would just take her to Sbarro. But out of every chain restaurant – did she have to pick the damn Cheesecake Factory?

Sarah was raving over the Mac & Cheese balls that definitely cost more than the 10 dollars he sent for baked ziti. Judging by the amount of shopping bags in the corner, Sarah had used her extra spending money on clothes instead of Chicken Costoletta. 

He waited until Sarah turned her back to nail Teddy with a knowing look. She swatted it away like a bothersome fly. She could be so damn stubborn sometimes. 

Later, he would deal with it. Money was not a topic he liked to discuss in front of Sarah. Besides, there were more important things at the moment. 

“So, are you gonna show me this dress of yours?” 

Sarah eagerly nodded and bounced over to her bed, picking up the black garment bag. It didn’t even allow him a peek at the color, not even when she hugged it tightly to her chest. 

“Well, come on - don’t leave me hanging. I’ve been waiting all night.” 

“Dad, you gotta see it on me or else you won’t get the full-effect,” she sassed, a duh implied in her tone. “Go downstairs, you and Teddy can wait-”

“Now, hold on there Sarah. It’s - it’s getting pretty late,” he pointed out, and Sarah’s fraying smile told him that she knew what he was trying to say. He hated disappointing her, but this was the right thing to do. “So Teddy, if you need to go home, don’t feel like you gotta stay.” 

Selfishly, Joel wanted her to stay, but why would she? She had already seen the dress, already given up her entire evening for Sarah. This was a free out, and he expected her to take it. 

Instead, She crossed her arms over her chest like a defiant child. “No way you’re getting rid of me that easily, Joel,” she said. “I’m sticking around to see your reaction.” 

Without giving him a chance to respond, she slid past him, her chest brushing against his arm. She motioned him to follow and he did without question. 

She led the way downstairs as if she’d been here before. But the few times she’d come by before to drop off paperwork she never made it past the front porch. 

His pulse slightly hiked up seeing her in his living room for the first time. Her gaze scanning the camel-colored walls, the pictures of Sarah throughout the years, his guitar that he rarely found time to play. Above the DVD and CD rack was the only real piece of art in the room – if that’s what people would call the painting of waves he’d found at a garage sale, the same one where he got the mismatched pillows on the couch. 

Interior design wasn’t his strong suit, but he was still proud of his home. Proud of himself for buying it on his own, for being able to prove this kind of place for his kid. All of this, from the rug to every decoration and lamp. It was best attempts to make this space feel homey – lived in for Sarah’s sake. She would not be the only kid in class growing up in a bachelor pad. 

“So, this is Joel Miller’s house?” Teddy spun around to face him and he found that she looked really good next to his coffee table. “It’s nice. I like it.” 

“Yeah?” Joel rubbed the back of his neck, toeing the tile-carpet line that separated the kitchen from the living room. 

“Especially the Cowboys decor.” She pointed her thumb at the framed blue star logo that was hung up by the stairs. “Did you know I used to wanna be a cheerleader for them?”

Joel’s mouth went drier than when eating pretzels. He rapidly shook his head, mainly to erase the mental image of her in that skimpy little outfit. It would probably haunt him in his dreams for the rest of his life. 

He cleared his throat and took a seat on the couch. “I’m surprised Sarah didn’t give you a tour.” 

“Oh, she did.” Teddy plopped down on the couch with him, keeping a friendly distance of a cushion. “But don’t worry, the grand tour didn’t include your bedroom. She said that was off limits.” She puckered her bottom lip, pouting as if actually disappointed. 

“Trust me, you’re not missing much.” 

“But isn’t that where the magic happens?” 

Joel accidentally let out a snort. Magic. Nothing close to magic had ever happened in that room, unless what he did last week counted. “I think you’ve been watching too much Cribs.” 

Her lips parted, her eyes lit up with a wild look of amusement. “Does Joel Miller secretly watch MTV?” 

“Only against my will.” He jerked his chin towards the stairs. “She loves all that shit.” 

“Yeah. She did talk a lot about True Life while at din…ner.” Teddy clipped her lips together, catching her slip. 

“Trust me, I didn’t forget.” His tone carried a smug edge, making her huff in annoyance.  “So, how ‘bout you tell me how much I owe you for it?” 

“You don’t owe me anything.” 

“Teddy,” he warned. Still, she insistently shook her head, refusing to make things easy for him. 

“Sorry, but I can’t let you pay me back,” she said. “It wouldn’t be right.” 

“Really? How come?” 

She straightened her posture, the brown leather groaning underneath her. “Well, for one - it was my decision to take her there, wasn’t it?” 

“So?” 

“So, it doesn’t make sense for you to have to pay for something I decided, now does it?” 

Joel licked his teeth at her loop-hole logic. She was eyeing him with a very serious expression, as if this wasn’t over 30? 35 bucks? Hell, there was probably enough in his wallet right now to cover it. 

If this were anyone else, Joel would’ve already said fuck this and drained his wallet of every nickel and dime, just to be safe. He wouldn’t accept no for an answer because he didn’t need anyone’s help or handout. He made enough money to support not only himself, but his daughter perfectly fine. Thank you. 

But this wasn’t just anyone – this was Teddy. Whether it was because she did his payroll or because she was so bullheaded, he didn’t know, but she had a funny way of making him fold. 

“Secondly.” She lifted a second finger before he could raise the white flag. “It wouldn’t be right for you to pay me back for your own gift.” 

Huh? “Gift?” 

She hummed in response. “There might be a little early birthday present waiting for you in the fridge.” 

He couldn’t remember the last time someone, other than Sarah, got him a birthday present. Most of the time, not even Tommy did; his presence was the present or whatever bullshit he said. But she’d thought of him. Him. The idea made his chest begin to swell like metal on a blazing summer day. He ducked his head to hide the heat rising in his cheeks. 

“You didn’t need to get me any-” 

Teddy grasped his arm, instantly turning the rest of his sentence into sawdust. His gaze flickered from her hand on his forearm, to her eyes. She really was beautiful, especially in the warm pool of lamp light in his living room. 

“I wanted to,” she assured him with a voice as soft as her touch. Her thumb gently skimmed over his arm hair and he held back a shiver with the clench of his teeth. “It’s just Classic Vanilla Bean Cheesecake. A little boring, but Sarah said that’s your favorite.”

“It is.” His voice cracked like a pre-teen and embaressed, he averted his eyes. How ridiculous. He needed to get a grip. Pull himself together. He was acting like a fucking virgin. Joel swallowed and stiffly nodded. “Thank you.” 

She gave his arm a small squeeze before pulling away. The spot where she touched him still tingled, still burned. 

“It’s the least I could do, since I’ll be missing it.” 

Joel brushed her off with an easy wave of his hand. Other than work, he didn’t have any plans, so she really wasn’t missing anything. “I think you’ll have more fun in Phoenix, anyway.” 

“Just don’t let Tommy set the place on fire while I’m gone.” 

“Do you have that little faith in me?” he asked – teased. It was only a few days. Leaving Thursday, back in the office by the following. 

She lightly nudged his arm, just as a door opened. 

“Are you ready?” Sarah called out, and his focus shifted to the bottom of the stairs. 

“I was born ready, kiddo. So, come on, let’s see it.” Joel drummed his hands excitedly against his thighs. 

Waiting there reminded him of the fashion shows she used to put on for him. She’d wait at the top of the stairs until he popped in the Whitney Houston CD. For the big finale, they would dance around the living room to I Wanna Dance With Somebody. 

But Sarah didn’t appear in a bright-pink princess costume, but instead a pretty little purple dress. Her heels were real, not made out of cheap plastic or from the Dollar Tree. His little girl looked so grown up. The realization that she was grown up made the back of his eyes burn. 

Joel scrubbed a hand down his slack, scruffy jaw, watching Sarah twist from side-to-side. The shiny material swished around her knees. 

“Baby girl, you look - beautiful,” he said without trying to hide the crackle in his voice. “The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” 

Sarah giggled, almost bashfully. “That’s exactly what Teddy said.” 

“Well, that’s because it’s the truth,” Teddy stated earnestly. Sarah’s entire face lit up and God –  she had such a killer smile. He would never get tired of seeing it.

When Sarah pulled back her hair to show Teddy two different pairs of earrings, she immediately went over to get a closer look. 

Discussing jewelry and lip gloss, Sarah’s shiny wide eyes clung to her every word as if it was wrapped in gold, as if it held some infinite wisdom. It suddenly hit him that he’d never seen Sarah look at anyone like that. Not her favorite teacher. Not her best friend’s mom. Not even Mrs. Adler who lived next door and used to babysit her after school. 

Poor Mrs. Adler, she meant well but Sarah and her could not have been more different. Thinking about it, Teddy was the first woman that Sarah shared anything in common with, who she didn’t have to share with the rest of the class or came second to a friend. 

For once, Sarah had some special bond for herself. 

His breath caught in his throat watching Teddy fuss with Sarah’s dress. Her eyes barely leaving Sarah’s bright face as she untwisted a strap and smoothed out a few spots in the back. For a second, he imagined her here with them every night – thought about how seamlessly she would fit into their lives. 

Holy shit - what the fuck is he doing? Stop it. 

Joel forced himself to look away, pruning those thoughts before they grew. The light, liquid warmth in his chest ran cold. It turned into mercury when it settled in his belly. 

Luckily, Sarah and Teddy were too preoccupied with finishing details to notice him obsessively picking at his fingernails. He didn’t know what got a hold of him.

This was insane. She was his friend, his business partner, and whatever she was to Sarah that was more important than a stupid crush. No – he would not complicate a good thing with his feelings. Feelings she didn’t reciprocate. For God sake, she was dating someone else. Get over it. 

Joel thought it might be a good thing that Teddy would be gone for a few days. More than ever, he needed some distance. Some time to help screw his head back on straight. 

—

Too early on Tuesday morning, Joel sleepily fought the coffee machine until dark liquid gurgled and spewed into the pot. 

“Have you heard from Teddy at all?” Tommy asked as Joel filled up a to-go cup. 

“Oh yeah, hear from her every night before going to sleep.” 

“Really?” 

Joel shoved the coffee pot back inside its home, and blinked at Tommy. “Of course not. She’s on vacation. Why would she call me?” 

He figured she’d brought whoever she was dating on the trip with her. They were probably going to her cousin’s wedding, meeting her college roommates new baby while he was here - in Texas. Alone. When he thought about it like that, it put everything into some much needed perspective. 

Joel didn’t give Tommy a chance to respond before barging out and heading to the garage. He still was not used to seeing her empty desk instead of her warm smile, telling him to have a good day. 

“So, do you miss her, yet?” Tommy asked while loading up the truck. 

“She’s only been gone a few days,” Joel snorted, as if it was a ridiculous question to ask. “Why? Do you miss her?” 

“Miss her coffee, that’s for damn sure.” He grimaced at the cup before taking a tentative sip. “Shit sucks. You add too much water.” 

“I’d like to see you do any better.” Joel obnoxiously slurped on his drink, then winced. It did kinda taste like dirt. “She does make it better,” he conceded. “It’ll be nice to have her back.” 

The distance had been a good thing for him, though. It was much easier for him to think without her dizzying perfume. What happened in his living room had been just a moment of weakness, of panic. Blown completely out of proportion. 

The thing was – he’d always had a crush on her. It was nothing new, and he was perfectly happy with just this. With never being anything more than friends – her in his life, that was enough for him. 

It had to be. 

“Well, speaking of Thursday.” Tommy spoke in a tone that almost always meant he wanted something. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, I gotta leave work early that day.” 

“Why? Got an appointment or something?” 

Tommy shook his head, then spewed a sob story that lasted nearly the entire drive to the site. His buddy Aaron had just broken up with his cheating girlfriend, and needed help moving out of their apartment. Too bad it wasn’t a different one of Tommy's military buddies or Joel would’ve immediately said no, but Aaron actually wasn’t a douchebag. 

“Well, what time would you leave? Cause we gotta finish that block by Friday-”

“She works the night shift, so not until like 3 or 4,” he said, swaying him further. “And Aaron said he’ll pick me up from the site, so you ain’t gotta do anything.” 

Joel shrugged, whatever. Fine. They would just have to work late tonight and tomorrow. 

—-

So far, Thursday had not gone at all like Joel had anticipated. His reunion with Teddy this morning was disappointingly quick. It wasn’t like he expected her to run into his arms and hug him or anything dramatic like that, but he did think it would be more than just a few minutes of small talk where Tommy dominated most of the conversation with his plans for later. 

Which turned out to be total bullshit by the way. 3 to 4 ended up being more like 1:30, ruining his chance to see Teddy this evening. The inspectors would be here tomorrow morning, so the frame had to be finished tonight with or without an extra set of hands. 

Now, at 6:30, Joel was just leaving the site. He picked up Wendy’s to make up for his crummy day, only for the burger to be loaded with pickles and onions when he specifically asked for ketchup only. He still scarfed it down, along with a medium dry on the drive back to shop where the only thing that would be waiting for him was an empty office and a fat-ass stack of paperwork. Some supply sheets that could hopefully be knocked out before Sarah needed to be picked up later. 

He pulled in through the back entrance and was taking his sweet time unloading the truck. Lowly humming Wedding Bells by the great Hank Williams when the door opened with a screech. The sound echoed around the steel walls of the garage and he jerked, nearly dropping a nail gun on his foot. Somehow, he managed to catch it just before it slid off the rack. 

He turned around and - “Teddy?” 

“I was wondering what was taking you so long,” she said in a sweet drawl that made his pulse race for an entirely different reason. 

He stared at her dumbly, blinking rapidly to make sure this was not just his imagination. She was still here. He wet his throat with a hard swallow. “You surprised me.” 

“I can tell.” She giggled and embarrassment swarmed his neck like fire ants. He couldn’t believe she just witnessed him flail around like an idiot. He promptly went back to gathering up the last of the wooden boards and stacking them in the corner. “Did you not see my car out front?” 

“I came in off 77th,” he explained, brushing the dust from his hands onto his jeans. 

“I could’ve helped.” She leaned against the door, opening it wider as he walked over. 

“Nah, I got it,” he said with a casual shake of his head. “Wouldn’t want you to ruin that shirt, anyway.” His eyes dipped over the satiny material, this time a deep maroon.

“It is a great shirt.” She playfully bumped into his side with her shoulder when he stepped inside. The delicious scent of her soap sent an electric jolt up his spine. He matched her steps down the hallway. “What’re you still doing here anyway?” 

“Well, there’s the Fox Ridge pitch tomorrow and there’s two more next week. And I have been gone for like a week.” She tucked herself back behind her desk. “Remember?” 

Oh yeah, he remembered. 

For a few minutes, they caught up on work and talked about homecoming, which was Saturday, and Sarah, who was currently at her friend’s house making posters or whatever for the big game tomorrow. He asked if she enjoyed her trip, which she obviously did from the glow around her. He almost asked about the wedding until he noticed all the files on her desk, the neat stacks of paper labeled with post-it notes that clearly showed she was busy. 

He decided not to be selfish and take up anymore of her time and instead went into his office. 

“Let me know if you need anything,” she told him before he closed the door. He left it slightly cracked in a way that seemed inviting before taking a seat at his desk. He would’ve just left it wide open if he thought it would be possible to focus. But even the back of her head could be enough to distract him. 

Just like the rest of the shop, his office had been recorated by Teddy when Danny retired. He’d actually offered her the office, multiple times, but she refused. She preferred the natural light in the front, and he couldn’t blame her when the one window in here was puny and overlooked the trash cans. 

Without her, Joel would’ve left the walls as blank and as white as Danny, the bookshelves just as bare and dusty, and there wouldn’t be a single lamp, let alone two. But he definitely appreciated the lamps this late in the day when the overhead light would burn too loud and bright. 

Supposedly, she’d gotten them for free from a friend that was moving. He’d believed the story, at first, until one day she showed up with a giant picture of Yellowstone River, two more of different landscapes. A Golden forest. A mountain range. She’d just stumbled upon them at a Goodwill for the same price as a pizza. And then she’d filled the bookcases that framed his desk with architectural books that would likely never be read and tiny fake plants, which he couldn’t kill. Those she’d claimed were found at a garage sale for the magical price of a gift card to her favorite nearby lunch spot. 

She would’ve decorated the office for her dad if he would’ve let her. Danny didn’t care though if she found the space so depressing when it came down to money. But Joel could not find it in him to tell her no when she looked so damn pleased with herself afterwards. She’d done such a nice job that he wished he could use the office more. One day he probably would when Sarah moved out. He had a love-hate relationship with being home alone. The quiet could be peaceful, then other times forlorn. 

After finishing up two supply lists for upcoming projects, Joel went to start on a third when his door jarred open with a soft knock. Teddy was hovering around the threshold with a file in one hand. 

“Are you busy?” 

Joel shook his head, shoving the folder aside then signaling her to come in. She stepped inside, nudging the door shut with her hip. It didn’t latch. No one else was here, otherwise he would’ve pointed it out. But he didn’t know why she shut it in the first place, honestly. 

“Sorry to bother you-” 

“You’re not bothering me,” he interrupted. “What can I do for you?” 

“It’s the Fox Ridge pitch.” She sauntered over to his desk, hips swaying and squeezed into a pair of black jeans. Her shirt was gaping open in the front from the top two buttons being left undone and wasn’t it just one earlier? It was always one, right? 

He realized it would’ve been easy to catch a peek of her bra when she bent over to hand him the file, but like a good person – like a good friend – he looked away. His gaze remained firmly fused to her face until she sat down in the chair across from him. 

She wanted his thoughts on the pitch, and he agreed to take a look. Based on the first page it looked perfect, and even if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t be much help. After all, she was the brains of the operation where he was just the muscle. 

“So, how was the wedding?” Joel flipped onto the next page without looking up. “Your cousin’s right?” 

“Good memory.” She hummed, sounding pleasantly surprised. Her nails clicked along the steel arm of the chair. “But yeah, the wedding was… it was nice.” 

“Was it?” Joel glanced up at her with a suspiciously quirked brow. “Cause, you ain’t gotta lie to me. I won’t tell.” 

She clicked her tongue as if her reluctant tone wasn’t what led him to such a conclusion.

“I’m not lying, it was really nice. A lot of family that I haven’t seen in a while was there. And my cousin has amazing taste, so the wedding was gorgeous. It was small and intimate, but.” She let out a big breath. “It’s just everyone except my dad and I had dates.” 

“Did you not bring your-” Too late, the words had poured out before he could think twice and he cursed his stupid, overly curious mind. He had no idea what to say to cover up his lapse, so he just didn’t. It just hung in the air and he turned to the next page without reading the last. 

“Bring my what, Joel?” Her voice made it sound more like a challenge than a question. He peered up at her and she looked him directly in the eyes. It was as if she knew what he was going to say. It was as if she wanted him to ask. 

Joel screwed the blue pen into his grip. “I thought - I thought you had a boyfriend.” 

At that, she reclined back in the chair. She crossed her legs and tilted her head as if to study him. “What made you think I have a boyfriend?” she asked with such wild amusement that it confused him. 

Didn’t she? Tommy had seen the card, the flowers as well, so it wasn’t something he just made up in his head. She was or used to be dating someone. Oh – maybe it wasn’t a boyfriend, but a girlfriend. Not that he was about to ask. God no. He’d butted into her personal life enough for one night. 

“Well, you know.” Joel scratched the back of his head, then pointed in the direction of the break room. “There were those flowers, remember?” 

Her eyes widened – her lips parted. “Yeah, I remember. I just, I guess I didn’t think you would.” 

“Well, it ain’t everyday someone gets a garden delivered here.” He meant it as a joke, but it came off rather jealous. He tacked on a chuckle for good measure. She snorted, so it must’ve worked. 

“Okay fair. I was dating someone, but that’s over. Been over. We broke up like 4 months ago? So, not long after that, actually.” 

Joel grimaced. He could barely focus on her being single when he felt like shit. No one wanted to be reminded of their ex. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” She brushed off like it was no big deal. 

Still, he remained silent as the grave because what the hell was he supposed to say now? 

“I was the one who ended things, just in case that makes you feel better.” Of course she was. No one in their right mind would break up with someone as amazing as her. “But since we’re on the topic and all - what about you, Joel?” 

“What about me?” Joel finally met her eyes and her lips twisted into a mischievous smirk that made his stomach swoop. 

“Do you have anyone special in your life?”

Joel stiffly shook his head. “Can’t say I do.”  

“Anyone not special?” she nudged him, suggestively wiggling her brows. 

Again – a shake of his head. “I don’t really date.” 

“What a shame.” Her voice was almost husky, breathy. She leaned forward slightly. “I’m sure all the single mom’s at Sarah’s school are devastated.” 

Joel batted his hand in the air with an ugly snort. 

“What? I’m serious,” she said without twitching. Her eyes momentarily flickered towards his lips, and suddenly, his throat felt like the mostly burnt bagel he had for breakfast. “I bet you have all of them wrapped around your finger.” 

“You’re just - you’re just saying that.” 

“Am I?” Her voice was silky, even silkier than her shirt. There was a cool confidence radiating from her as her fingernails galloped in a slow rhythm along the arm rest. 

She was staring at him, pinning him against his seat. The hair on his thighs lifted and tickled the denim. The energy in the room had shifted, the air between them had bent and blurred into something that Joel could not quite describe. But he could feel it, sense it when it surged and rippled between them and sent an electric shiver up his spine. 

She licked her lips and rolled them together until they were shiny with her spit. His heart pounded against his chest like an animal trapped and he wanted to pounce over the desk and taste her spit. He nearly did until he felt a stirring in his jeans. 

What the hell was going on? What was he thinking? He needed to get his head screwed back on straight before he did something incredibly stupid. 

Joel shot from his chair like a firework. Abrupt and loud and white-hot. He turned away and towards the filing cabinets on the back wall. He didn’t have a plan, but there had to be something in there that he could pretend to need. 

She was quicker than his flustered brain and rose to her feet before he could make it past the edge of his desk. 

“Joel.”

It stopped him, his feet stuck to the floor like wet cement. She approached him like a frightened deer. Steady. So quiet. Her steps barely scratched against the cheap carpet. 

Joel realized now, right now was the time to speak. To say something. Anything. Find an excuse. Stop standing here like a dumb-struck baboon. But there was only one word that managed to leave his lips, a breath - 

“Teddy.” 

“It’s okay,” she whispered into the shrinking space between them. “I know.” 

I know? He had no clue what that was supposed to mean, but before he could ask – she cradled the back of his neck and pressed her lips against his. Joel’s eyes widened and all he could see was the soft planes of her face, her fluttering eyelids, the fan of her raven-stroke lashes. 

She was kissing him. Holy shit. She was actually kissing him. When he finally registered that, he closed his eyes and was overcome by the taste of her spit and a hint of Burt’s Bees chapstick, which he found oddly arousing. 

For a moment, he was too damn stunned to do anything but move his mouth along hers. Then, he realized his arms were hanging like spaghetti noodles at his side and reached out and clutched onto her waist. His thumbs delicately swirled the fabric of her shirt. So damn smooth, just as he expected. 

Joel gulped when she drew back, just far enough to meet his eyes. He had no idea what the fuck this was – let along if it was anything at all. Perhaps, this was it. Just a stolen kiss, late one night in his office. 

Joel braced himself for her to yank away, to tell him it was a mistake, that she didn’t know what she was thinking. Let’s forget the whole thing. 

But she didn’t. 

She just continued to toy with the curly ends of his hair, twirling them around her fingers as her other hand fisted the loose collar of his shirt. He was wedged between her warm-heaving body and his desk. The edge was slightly burrowing into his lower back, but currently he couldn’t care less. 

Her gaze dipped to where his jeans were painfully tented. A hot burst of shame ignited behind his earlobes. The flex of his fingers bit into the hollow below her ribs. 

“It’s - it’s been a while,” he found himself explaining because there was no good reason, at his age, to be this turned on from just kissing. 

“Do you want me to stop?” She slid up against him, sealing herself against his chest. It appeared she knew the answer before he could dumbly shake his head. 

This time – his lips met hers somewhere in the middle. Where the first kiss was gentle, testing the waters like the first sip of fresh coffee, this one was deeper. More intense – a whole gulp. Her urgent lips captured his starstruck mouth and right then he knew nothing, no one, would ever compare to this. Not even close. 

The way she kissed was like some special art form that only she could master. It felt so damn good to have her fingers molding through his hair with baby scratches over his scalp and the scent of her soap flooding his chest with heat. It consumed him, his body, his mind. The rapid pulse in his ears muted his every coherent thought.

When she gently nibbled on his bottom lip, he moaned – Teddy. She licked her name from his lips, then eagerly tasted it on his tongue as if she couldn’t get enough. 

And oh God – her tongue was equally as impressive as her other skills. The tip of it dragged over his top palate, making it tingle like a buzz off tequila. She stroked and swirled and twisted around his tongue as if knotting a cherry stem. No one had ever taken the time to explore him so thoroughly. Frankly, he didn’t know there was that much of his mouth to explore. 

Despite her exploration, Joel’s hands were burning into her waist, still holding her at 10 and 2 like a student driver. Like this was a chaperoned middle school dance. Slowly he roamed them down to grip her hips, but no further. He didn’t want to push it. He didn’t want to scare her. He didn’t want to spoil this moment from something stupid like getting too greedy. 

Joel was fully okay with her in the driver seat. Even though he was usually in charge, he was happily letting her lead. Well, actually, he didn’t know if he was really letting her or if she just was. He didn’t care either way when she was touching him. 

She broke the kiss and her lips swerved to his cheek. His jaw, paying extra attention to the patch in his beard where no hair could grow. His head tipped back when she buried her nose into the crook of his neck and deeply inhaled. After a hard-days work he likely smelled of sweat instead of his soap, but she groaned anyway. 

“Have you ever thought about this before?” She breathed against his neck. 

“I mean, I-” He choked on his words as her tongue slicked over the thick vein beneath his jaw. “I - I tried not to.” 

“But you did.” He could feel her lips split into a grin before she sucked on a spot below his ear. He hoped it would leave a mark. The idea of seeing it tomorrow in the mirror made his cock twitch and throb and it ached. 

“Uh-huh,” he whimpered, rather pathetically. It actually sounded like it fucking hurt. 

“You know what?” She playfully nipped at the spot that would soon sadly fade. She then met his gaze with a coy grin. I thought about you too.” 

“You did?” he croaked. 

She hummed in response, her fingers trailing down his chest. His stomach quivered, his breath catching before she stopped just above the band of his jeans and whispered, “But unlike you - I didn’t try to stop.” 

Joel growled, unable to form a coherent thought. His brain was too preoccupied trying to process how any of this was happening. It had to be a dream or an optical illusion or some shit. No way it could be real. But her small hand cupped his cock and that certainly felt real. 

“Fuck - you feel even bigger than I imagined.” She palmed at his bulge with a light pressure. His knees nearly buckled despite the thick, denim barrier. 

Now, he was really wishing he jerked off last night – or anytime in the past week or so. God – he was pent up. It wouldn’t take much for him to break. 

“Can I see it?” 

Joel’s mouth went half-slack and she blinked at him without flinching. 

“Yeah,” he managed to squeak out. Not great, but at least coherent. 

She sank to her knees, her eyes never leaving his. Pretty. Pretty. So damn pretty. Those two undone buttons exposed the tops of her breasts, the peek of a plain white bra that he found sexier than he should’ve. 

His restless hands found solid ground on the desk behind him. Just in time as she balled the hem of his shirt in her tiny fists and bunched it towards his waist. The office air blew cool over his newly bare skin. 

Joel wondered how he compared to the type of guy she usually dated. Did she like meatheads with six packs? Or guys with scrawny arms? Or did she like them somewhere in the middle; someone more like him? His body used to be more solid in his 20’s, but softened with age. He was still strong though, still firm in most spots aside from his stomach. 

He caught himself sucking in as her wild eyes wandered over his husk-tan skin and across the dark scatter of hair around his navel. Then, she devoured it, mapping every inch with her wet, hot mouth. 

It was a miracle that he managed to stay upright under her attention. Any attention was new. He was not used to any teasing or foreplay or whatever delicious torture this was called. 

No. 

Joel was used to his own calloused hands. Quick, rough fucks with women who called him Joe or Jack or something else entirely because why did it matter if it meant nothing. 

But did this mean anything? To him, yes. To her – he had no clue. Dear God – he hoped so, though. 

With a smirk she unzipped his jeans and shoved them down by his knees. The wet spot on his boxers was impossible to miss. Of course, he’d worn light gray today instead of something discreet like black. 

“It’s been awhile,” he sheepishly reminded her. He didn’t want her to think he was always this big of a mess. Because he wasn’t. Seriously, he really wasn’t. 

“It’s alright, just relax.” She leaned forward and mouthed at the stain. 

But it was impossible to relax when her nose nudged the underside of his cock, her mouth was so close to the tip that every muscle in his body tightened. He gritted his teeth, his nostrils flaring with the remnants of his dwindling self-control. 

She must’ve realized she was ruining him because she pulled back with a wicked grin. She hooked her fingers into the elastic waistband and tugged. His freed cock nearly smacked her in the face. The flush red tip was weeping. 

“Shit, you’re thick,” she gasped. Women had told him that before, but he much preferred hearing it from her. The sweet honesty in her voice, the clear surprise. It stroked his ego and filled him with a strange sense of pride as if he’d actually accomplished anything profound, and not just good genetics. 

She licked and spit into her palm before stroking his cock with a loose fist from root to tip. Her thumb swiped over the blunt head, smearing his pre-come and making his hips jerk and involuntary spasm. 

Joel opened his mouth to apologize, but was quickly silenced by her tongue: warm, wet, the slightly rough texture tracing over the thick vein that ran down his length. 

He gripped the desk until his knuckles bleached. She placed her free hand on his hip as if to help steady him before guiding him between her perfect, plush lips. Just the tip, at first. But it still was nearly enough to finish him. He didn’t remember the last time someone put their mouth on him. 

Joel desperately wished to witness this moment. He wanted to memorize the glossy gleam in her eyes, the way she looked in front of him and on her knees and how her mouth stretched perfectly around his cock. But it was too much. The weight between his thighs was becoming oppressive. If he watched, he’d shatter. And he’d be horrified if he finished that fast. 

So, he focused on the ceiling tiles instead. On the black specks that formed different shapes as she took another inch of him into her feverish mouth. 

Already, she had him panting like a dog. Unable to fully catch his breath even when she released his cock with a loud pop. She continued to pleasure him with long strokes of her fist. Her tongue dipped into his leaking slit, lighting up nerve endings that he didn’t know existed. It ripped an ungodly sound from his mouth. 

“Oh, you liked that?” she asked, very smug. Then repeated the movement once, twice, before eagerly swallowing his cock again. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His hand flew to her shoulder and squeezed as she took him deeper – deeper. Holy shit. Where did she learn to do this? This was like pornstar level good. 

She had taken him halfway down her throat when he felt a shock run across his spine, a familiar tugging in his balls. His release was building and brewing in his lower belly like a thunderstorm. 

But Joel clenched his teeth. No – he could not come. Not yet. He needed to get himself under control before he finished in less than five minutes. 

He shut his eyes, but not even the rumble of his eardrums could drown out the loud, lewd squelch of her mouth. It was fucking filthy. The swirl of her expert tongue around his shaft had him unraveling fast like a loose spool of thread. 

“Teddy,” he moaned her name as he got close – too damn close. 

He tried to tell her to slow down, but the words stuck in his throat. Nothing came out except grunts. Just short groans. Her lips kissed the cusp of her fist, completely engulfing him in her honey-slobber and the softness of her hand. 

His hips instinctively bucked, the head of his cock bumping the back of her throat and she gagged. The walls of her inner mouth shuddered and pulsed around him and – 

“Shit.” His eyes flew open but before he could warn her – she hollowed her cheeks and sucked. 

He groaned her name, low and unrestrained, as the pleasure electrified his spine. It arced down his thighs before he could push her off. For a moment, he lost himself in the high, in the tide of her mouth. His cock twitched and throbbed on her tongue as he came. 

Hard. 

As if he hadn’t come in months – years. 

In a daze, he blinked down at her and saw his cum dripping down her chin, leaking from the corners of her mouth as she continued to twist her fist and suck down the aftershocks. It would’ve been easily the most erotic sight, if it didn’t suddenly hit him how fast he came. 

The light-headed euphoria quickly morphed into vertigo. He was horrified, mortified, staring down at her. 

He didn’t know what to say, and for once, it seemed like neither did she. She released his cock from her mouth, but otherwise didn’t move. Not even to wipe the come off her face. 

She swallowed, and opened her mouth. But a familiar ding tore through the thick, sticky air. The bell above the front door. 

“Joel? Teddy?” 

No way. It was motherfucking Tommy. 

—-

The idiot had forgotten his house keys in Joel’s truck. In the cupholder, nonetheless. 

Joel had somehow managed to button his jeans, and hand her a tissue before Tommy busted into his office. She’d pretend to blow her nose to clean the come off her face, riddling him with another level of shame. So embarrassed that he could barely look at her without feeling like he swallowed a handful of nails. 

He threw Tommy the car keys to get rid of him, but found out that Aaron had  left. Tommy had told him that Joel could just drive him home without even asking. And usually it wouldn’t be a big deal. 

But Tommy was so goddamn clueless. He just swung around the door frame, blabbering about how the girlfriend showed up and there was a big blow up in the parking lot and Joel was just waiting for him to notice the smell of sex and sweat or even the cloying embarrassment. Or Teddy’s swollen and suck-plump lips and surely Joel looked like a flushed-beet wreck. 

So how did Tommy seem to remain completely oblivious? 

When Sarah called a few minutes later, Joel left. Well, first he made sure everything was locked up and she was safely in her car, but otherwise fled like a coward. 

The shop had officially disappeared from his rear view mirror and now Joel couldn’t remember if he even told her goodbye. She just gave him the best blow job of his life, and he couldn’t even wave? 

“Are you gonna get Sarah or drop me off first?” Tommy asked and Joel snapped at him like a venus fly trap. 

“Doesn’t really make sense to go out of my way just to drop you off first, now does it?” 

Tommy threw up his hands. “Well, fuck. How am I supposed to know where Sarah’s friend lives?” He hurled himself against the passenger seat and mumbled under his breath, “Asshole.” 

Joel winced. He was kinda being an asshole, taking out his anger on Tommy. He wasn’t even mad at Tommy. Annoyed, yes, but not mad. The only person Joel was mad at here was himself. 

He was mad at himself for cumming too fast, and even more so for running away afterwards like a scared hound with his soft, spent cock tucked between his legs. Recalling the complete shit show, Joel’s grip coiled around the steering wheel until the leather squealed in protest. He could still feel the ring of her spit drying around him. 

Joel sighed and stared out the windshield at the night sky, the truck bouncing along the uneven back road full of potholes. Why did it feel like he just fucked everything up? 

“Hey, are you alright?” Tommy’s voice was lower, quiet – concerned. 

Joel scratched at his jaw, at the bald patch she’d kissed, before nodding his head. 

“Yeah, sorry - I’m just tired.” He’d rather die and be reincarnated into a gnat than tell Tommy about how he just prematurely ejaculated. He’d had enough embarrassment for one night. 

“Did I-” Tommy paused and for a moment it seemed like he decided to keep his mouth shut. Until he sighed. “I don’t know, but did I interrupt something between you and Teddy?” 

A little too late to start being observant, Tommy. 

Joel approached a red light, the truck crawling to a complete stop. 

“Come on. What would be going on between us that you could interrupt?” Joel looked over at Tommy and his brows were furrowed. In the pool of orange light from the street lamps that speckled the cab, Joel saw the realization flash across Tommy’s face. The moment everything clicked into place. 

Joel abruptly turned away, not in the mood for pity. After what felt like forever, the light finally turned green. 

“Joel, I didn’t realize that you-” 

“Don’t.” His voice was quiet, stern without being rude. “Just don’t.” 

For once, Tommy didn’t demand to have the last word. Instead, he slowly and silently fell back into the seat as if to fade into the shadows. She still had a boyfriend as far as Tommy knew, and Joel would not be informing him otherwise. This way was easier. 

The rest of the drive was filled with Willie Nelson’s album Always on My Mind, the rumble of the engine, and the buzzing of Joel’s thoughts. 

How was he supposed to face her tomorrow? 

—-

On Friday morning, Joel drove to the shop with a terrible pit in his stomach. His eyes felt gritty, and there was a dark shadow of gray underneath from a restless night sleep. He ate a bland piece of toast for breakfast, and even that made him feel sick. When he turned onto the street, he thought it might reappear all over the windshield. 

But Teddy was not there. Just a pink post-it note on the full, freshly brewed coffee pot. 

Fox Ridge pitch - Wish me luck. 

He’d forgotten that it was this early. Joel supposed he’d have to get here on time this evening to see her. 

Joel spent the day trying not to go insane. Despite the pounding of his hammer, memories of last night beat against his skull. Anytime he touched his lips, or the spot behind his ear, he could practically feel the ghost of her kisses. They had been desperate, heated. Hadn’t they? It had seemed she’d wanted him, just as much as he’d always wanted her. She’d even admitted to imagining him in some sexual way. 

But what about now? 

He didn’t have a clue. 

Eight hours later, and halfway from a complete tailspin, the truck decided not to start. The engine clicked and clicked and clicked, but never went. Even though he begged for it to start. The concrete guys had tried to jump it with no success. It’d taken everything in him not to sock Tommy in the jaw when he gave him that told-you-so look while calling a tow truck. 

The concrete guys were still on their best behavior and gave them a ride to the mechanic shop. It was run by one of Tommy’s highschool friends, Zach, who was nice enough to stick around past 5 on a Friday night. 

5:25 and this was a fucking nightmare. He couldn’t imagine a worse day for the truck to die. As if he hadn’t fucked up enough last night when he bolted, the last thing Joel wanted as her thinking that he was avoiding her. The least he could do was extend the same courtesy she had this morning. 

So midway through Tommy and Zach examining what was under the hood, he broke away to call her. 

Joel slapped his cellphone against the flat of his palm as he headed outside the entrance. With a deep breath he dialed the shop’s number. The ring-ring-ring in his ears made his chest feel like it was about to explode. 

“Teddy’s Company, how can I help you?”

“Hey Teddy.” He cleared his throat. “Hey, it’s Joel,” he said, very awkwardly. 

“Hey! Hi. What’s up?” 

Joel kicked at the loose rocks by his feet. “Well, the truck - uh the truck’s acting up. We had to get a tow, and Tommy and I are - the mechanic’s checking it over right now.” 

“Oh shit.” 

“Yeah, so I just wanted you to know - I don’t know when we’ll get back to the shop.” Joel lightly hit the center of his head with the circle of his clenched fist. He sounded like an idiot. 

“No - yeah. That makes sense.” Silence crackled on the other line and it was unbearable. 

Joel scratched his temple, unsure what to say next. He wanted to talk about last night, just to get it over with, but it wasn’t the right time. That was not a conversation to have over the phone. Not like at work was much better, but still. 

“Well,” Teddy broke the silence. There was a rustling of something on the other line – papers? Her bag? “Do you need-” 

There was a massive boom behind him – Tommy pounded on the glass door and motioned him inside. 

“What was that?” she asked and Joel mouthed at Tommy to give him a second. 

“Sorry, it’s Tommy. I think the mechanic’s done with the inspection.”

“Okay - well, I was just gonna ask if you guys-” 

Tommy banged again – harder. It was Friday, so he probably had a date with his favorite dive bar. Joel glared at him and flipped him off. 

“It sounds like you need to go,” she said. 

“Sorry.” Joel rubbed the back of his neck and he was gonna kill Tommy. “But uh - have a nice weekend, alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah, you too, Joel.” 

Once Joel found out the battery just needed to be replaced, Tommy’s pissy mood made a lot more sense. It would be a decently fast and easy fix – at most an hour. 

Joel plopped down in a chair in the lobby and mindlessly flipped through a car magazine. He didn’t even register the pictures that swished by, too busy reeling from that awkward phone call. 

Had he really told her to have a nice weekend? He wanted to melt into the cracks and scuffs in the black-and-white tiles. Real smooth, Joel. He sucked at this shit. 

What was going to happen next? 

He couldn’t tell where her head was at from the phone call that somehow didn’t even last as long as him last night. God – she probably thought he had some type of erectile dysfunction and he couldn’t even blame her. There was no excuse for a man at his age to cum that fast from a blow job, nonetheless. He was not a fucking teenager. 

The longer he sat there in the empty lobby with the melancholy of Johnny Cash’s voice, the more he began to doubt. It spread and swelled in his lower abdomen like a virus. Syphilis. If it festered for too long, he felt like it might turn him insane. 

He didn’t know how he would survive the weekend like this. 

— 

Saturday was usually his day for relaxing. All his responsibilities could wait until Sunday, but he couldn’t sit still. 

Up early, he and Sarah went to the Farmer’s Market and ran errands until lunch time. He deep cleaned the house in the afternoon. The entire main floor was vacuumed and swept, the kitchen counters looked brand new, and even his bed was freshly made with dryer warm sheets. He was determined to keep busy instead of wallowing in his looming conversation with Teddy. 

It might’ve worked if Sarah didn’t innocently keep bringing her up. With homecoming tonight, she was apparently in the mood to reminisce, especially after she’d gotten all dolled up. 

They were halfway to her friend Ashley’s house and the drive had been filled with Teddy. Their mall trip – the dress – the tiny details Teddy helped pick out. 

“I brought my polaroid camera.” Sarah pointed at her overnight bag in the backseat of his truck. “So, you can take a photo of me and show Teddy on Monday.” 

“Oh, yeah. She’ll like that.” Joel forced a smile as the hand of his knee flexed, biting into denim. 

He couldn’t help but feel a stab of guilt every time Sarah mentioned her. Teddy would never cut Sarah out, he knew that, but things were bound to be different now. It couldn’t go back to what it used to be, not after she’d seen his cock and swallowed his come. The relationship would inevitably change between them. 

He just hoped their friendship could be somewhat salvaged. For Sarah’s sake, especially. 

Joel was able to push that out of his mind when they arrived at Ashley’s house. The Murphy’s had been nice enough to invite the entire group, including parents, to come over and take photos. He couldn’t imagine fitting 14 teenagers and their moms in his puny backyard where he could barely fit a playset. Luckily, the Murphy’s lived on a big, well-landscaped lot that backed up against a man-made lake, and not directly into a neighbor’s house. 

The few other dad’s who showed up were all huddled together under the covered patio with their eyes transfixed on the TV screen. The Longhorns were taking on the Wildcats. Still in the first quarter, so it wasn’t even a good game yet. 

Instead of cracking open a beer, Joel joined the mom’s by the rose bushes. 

“Oh my God, Joel. Sarah looks beautiful.”

“She’s gorgeous.” 

“Stunning.” 

They all complimented Joel as if his genes actually put up a fight. Sarah was Lisa’s exact twin. Even more so when her gorgeous thick curls were pulled back into a loose bun with a few loose strands framing her face. The mom’s were right though – Sarah did look beautiful. But then again, she always did; with or without all the glitter and make-up. 

Sarah’s date was a scrawny, soccer player with red hair who was her best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend. Eric. Joel could hardly believe his daughter was at an age to even have a date, even if it was just a set up. It made him feel incredibly old when the kid called him sir. 

Based on first impressions, Eric seemed nice enough. The kid took a few photos of Joel and Sarah together in front of the Mexican bush sage. The purple flowers were almost an exact match to Sarah’s dress. Joel had hoped that somebody would offer when he’d changed out of his dusty clothes earlier and into a different, slightly nicer white t-shirt and a pair of his best dark wash jeans. 

Still, while Joel wouldn’t threaten the kid with a fist or scare the shit out of him with a war story like Tommy would, Joel did give Eric the look – Don’t try anything, bud. When Joel shook his hand, it felt like wet paint. 

Good. 

Joel thanked the minivan moms for driving, Ashley’s mom for hosting the sleepover afterwards, while snapping enough pictures to fill up two of Sarah’s bulletin boards. 

“You look beautiful, baby girl,” he told Sarah one more time before hugging her goodbye. 

She promised to be good and handed him the developed Polaroid, specifically for Teddy. He stashed it safely away in the middle console of his truck then drove away. 

At home, an empty living room quietly greeted him. Not yet 6 P.M. – the sun continued to shine and slice through the curtains onto the beige carpet. Joel had no idea what to do with the rest of his evening. Football, he supposed. Maybe rent a movie – Ocean’s Eleven or Training Day, something Sarah had no interest in ever seeing. 

He whipped up a ham and cheese sandwich and cracked open a beer. Rather than eating alone at the dining room table, he set up on the couch and ate in the company of Longhorn football. 

It didn’t take long, not even halfway finished with his sandwich, before a Folgers commercial came on and he thought about Teddy. She never even used Folgers, but just coffee in general made him think of her. At this point, it was actually pathetic how everything reminded him of her.

For a few minutes, Joel debated on calling her and figuring this shit out already. This limbo was killing him. He even pulled out his phone from his back pocket, found her name in his contact list and let it taunt him, his thumb hovering over the call button for longer than he’d like to admit. 

But what would he say if she answered? 

It had been two days and he still had no clue. He was still trying to figure out how to navigate this whole situation. He wanted to handle it with care but it felt like holding a dandelion puff in his rough calloused hands. Inevitably, it would break and fall apart with something as simple as a gust of wind. Joel carelessly tossed his phone on the coffee table and groaned. 

At halftime, he went and cleaned off his empty plate in the sink. Using his hands always helped distract him. Maybe he needed a hobby. He could always play his guitar, finally learn Never Going Back Again. He’d always wanted to try out woodworking since it used to be his dad’s favorite pastime. 

Joel was drying off the dish when the doorbell rang. 

“Hold on,” he yelled, wiping off his hands with the rag. He didn’t know who that could be, but he’d bet everything in his wallet right now it was Tommy. He knew Sarah would be gone all night, and probably wanted to drag Joel to some bar across town for a wild night out. 

Joel was coming around to the idea of spending his night in a smoky, loud bar instead of cooped up in his house when he opened the door. It was definitely not his brother, not even close. 

“Teddy.” 

She was on his front porch in a pale blue sundress that instantly made his mouth water. The buttery light from the budding sunset sky behind her framed her silhouette. 

“Sorry to just stop by.” She smoothed down her dress and tugged at the hem. “But can I come in?” 

—-

She didn’t say why she was here when he let her inside, but he supposed she didn’t have to. 

It was actually Joel who broke the silence. “Do you want anything to drink?” he asked. His mom would lurch from her grave if he didn’t act like a good host. 

“Water,” she said with a small smile. “Tap’s fine.” 

It was a good thing she didn’t follow him into the kitchen. His hands were shaking so bad that he nearly dropped the glass on the tile floor. 

When he came back into the living room, she was sitting on the couch. He handed her the glass, his fingertips brushing over hers. She politely thanked him before taking a tentative sip. The cushion whined under his weight when he sat. These were the exact same spots from the night she was here with Sarah. This time, however, the empty cushion felt less like a safety net and more like a boulder about to crush him. 

He turned off the TV, the newfound silence giving further evidence of what happened the other night. 

She clinked the glass onto the coffee table, then clasped her hands stiffly in her lap. On the very edge of her seat, she looked ready to bolt at any moment. “I knew Sarah would be at the dance or, at least dinner.” 

“Yeah, dinner. I think the dance starts around 8,” he said and she nodded. He wished he would’ve remembered to bring the Polaroid inside. Maybe it would’ve helped ease the tension. 

But no – he needed to quit procrastinating and apologize for how he reacted the other night. 

Buck up – do it. 

For a moment, Joel searched for what to say, scratching the skin around his neck where it felt thickest. 

“Joel,” Teddy said before he could speak. She shifted in her seat and when she opened her mouth, he braced himself for her to call it nothing but a mistake. “I wanted to come by and apologize about the other night.” 

His brows furrowed. 

“Apologize?” 

“Yes, Joel,” she answered, very sternly. He noticed a pained look in her eyes before she stared down at her stark white tennis shoes. 

“What? I - what?” He sounded like a bumbling drunk and for once, he wished the right words would just come naturally to him. 

She sighed. 

“After our phone call yesterday,” she started, only stopping for a split-second to clasp her gold necklace between her fingers. “I feel like I might’ve pushed things too far the other night. I never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable-” 

“Uncomfortable? No. Shit.” Joel insistently shook his head. He would personally damn himself to hell if he sat here any longer and let her take any blame for this. Exhaling, he scruffed a hand over his jaw. “Look, I’ll admit - I panicked, but that ain’t on you.” 

“How is it not?” 

“Cause you did nothing wrong. Fuck. I’m the one who should be apologizing, alright? I acted like a goddamn idiot, Teddy. It’s just-” Joel let out a self-deprecating laugh, bashfully tucking his chin towards his chest. “I don’t usually, ya know - that fast. Just got embarrassed, that's all.” 

He absently rubbed at a patch of distressed leather on the arm of the couch. 

“Well, I never wanted to make you feel embarrassed.” She scooted closer – closer. Slowly. For what felt like the first time since the night in his office, Joel properly met her eyes. “All I wanted was to make you feel good, Joel.” Her voice was husky, almost seductive. She smirked and his heart banged inside his chest like a caged feral cat. 

“You did make me feel good,” he admitted, rather shyly. “Just wish I could’ve made you feel good, too.”  

“Who says you can’t?” Her eyes darted across his face, to his lips, to the rise and fall of his chest. She gripped his shoulders for balance before swinging her legs over him. Her knee lightly bumped into the arm of the couch and his hands instantly went to her hips, helping to steady her on his lap. 

Joel stared up at her dumbly for a moment before shaking his head in disbelief. His thumbs toyed with the hem of her dress, bunching it up further until he could brush over the bare flesh of her thighs. Goddamn, she was so soft. So pretty. 

“What do you want, Joel?” 

Everything. “Whatever you’ll give me.” 

“No, Joel. What do you want?” 

The last two days – hell, the last two years bulldozed into him. Every feeling and thought he’d suppressed and ignored crashing into him like a wrecking ball. He’d spent so long convincing himself this would never happen, but now – everything he ever wanted and never thought he would have was right here. Right in his lap. 

And something inside him suddenly snapped. 

“You gotta know by now, Teddy. You gotta know.” The words spilled out of his mouth and he hated how it sounded. It didn’t make any sense. Joel shook his head and ran his hands down her thighs to lightly squeeze at the spot above her knees for stability. “Fuck, I ain’t any good at this shit,” he said, in a rare moment of vulnerability. 

She cupped his face so delicately like he was made of porcelain. With a small nudge, he met her gaze. 

“This is gonna sound very middle school, but do you like me, Joel?” she asked and he snorted. 

It did sound juvenile, but he instinctively tugged her closer and nodded his head. 

“Good. Cause I like you and I want you, Joel. Only you,” she said. “So what do you say? Wanna give this a shot?” 

“You fucking know I do.” His hand slid behind her neck, his thumb traced over the perfect curve of her hair line. “Now, come here.” 

When his lips met hers – it was desperate and sweet like cream soda. His mouth crashed against hers with every bottled up dream and fantasy of her mouth, her lips, her tongue. It surged hot and bright through him. 

His hand was a firm weight on the small of her back as he pulled her in as close as humanly possible, until only denim and a dainty sundress could separate him from her. 

She clutched onto his shirt collar before gently rocking her hips against his growing bulge. He tensed his thigh, catching on her panties. She whimpered, already so sensitive, and he couldn’t wait to learn all the sounds she made. 

He couldn’t fuck her on the couch, though. Not properly, at least. Definitely not like he wanted to or how she deserved. Still, he let himself enjoy this for a few minutes. Dry humping like teenagers in her parent’s basement before breaking the kiss with a soft peck to her top lip. 

“Would you wanna go upstairs?” He dragged the back of his hand over her thigh, his knuckles hiking up her dress to reveal a little more skin. 

“Oooh. Am I finally gonna see Joel Miller’s room?” She gave the tip of his nose a quick kiss before crawling off of him. 

She held his hands the entire way upstairs until he led her into his room. “Told you, you weren’t missing much.” 

“I don’t know about that.” She glanced at the navy blue walls, at the painting of a grazing deer in what appeared to be somewhere in Montana. It hung above his golden oak headboard. She pointed at the basic beige comforter, three pillows lined up against the frame. “I’m gonna be honest, though, I didn’t take you for the type to make your bed.” 

“I did a little cleaning today.” Joel shrugged as she kicked off her shoes by his laundry basket. 

“Well, isn’t that convenient?” 

Joel managed to only kiss her twice before getting on the bed. He scooted into the middle, using two pillows to prop and cushion his aging lower back. Again, she eagerly climbed over him. She yanked her dress over her head, leaving her in only a lacy black bra with a pair of matching panties that cut high on her hips. The tiny, pink flower on the waistband was just the cherry on top. 

She must’ve noticed the look on his face because she giggled as if she was completely innocent. “Do you like it? I wore it for you.” 

“Fuck me,” he murmured. “Look at you, you’re gonna fucking kill me.” His hands roamed from her ribs up to paw at her bra and he squeezed just hard enough to watch them pour out over the top. He growled from deep in his chest before shoving his face in between her breasts. He traced the lacy material with his tongue before kissing along his slick trail. “Can I take it off?” 

Smirking, she reached behind her and unclipped it for him. The bra joined her dress on the carpet in seconds. He licked his lips and admired her bare skin – the curves of her body in the coppery-golden glow from the sunset spilling in from the window. When he cupped her breasts, he swore they were made for his hands. His thumbs slid across her sensitive peaks, feather-light, but her breath still hitched – her head tip back and even the column of her neck was gorgeous. 

He replaced one of his thumbs with his tongue, flicking the tip of it over her nub again and again. Kitten licks that made her clutch the back of his head. The way her fingers rooted into his hair was almost possessive and she held him flush against her chest as he sucked her nipple into his needy mouth. 

Her breathing grew ragged and she tried to find friction. She rutted against him, but his hands captured her hips, holding her still before she could graze his cock. Too much dry humping and he’d be actually come in his pants like a teenager. 

“Be patient, sweetheart,” he murmured and she whined. He didn’t allow her another chance to complain before his mouth switched to her other breast and adored it with equal attention. It’d been ages since he took his time like this and he lost himself in the feeling of her soft, scented skin on his face. 

“Joel,” she moaned. It was desperate and raw and hands down the most erotic sound he’d ever heard in his life. It snapped him from his reverie and he grazed his teeth once more over her spit-swollen bud. 

“I know.” He petted her hips before cupping her sex. The lace was soaked and sticky around her cunt. 

Her hips bucked into the flat edge of his palm and for a moment, he watched her shamelessly ride his hand. Her brows furrowed – her fingers clutching his shirt for support. He was suddenly aware that he was completely dressed, and he found it strangely erotic. A part of him enjoyed it, maybe a little too much. 

“Let me take care of you.” He patted her on the hip before ordering her to lay back. She didn’t need to be told twice. 

Joel moved, so she could take his spot in the center of the bed. He tore off his t-shirt and threw it with her clothes. She watched him with glossy, moon eyes as he crawled between her spread open thighs. He captured her lips in a tender kiss before swerving to the swell of her cheek and down the slope of her neck. Gently, he nipped at her collarbone and she wiggled impatiently. 

But he still went slow when dragging the tip of his nose from her breasts and along her stomach where he placed a soft kiss above her belly button. 

When he settled back on his knees, he saw her chest rising and falling. Her bottom lip was stuck between her teeth and she was fisting the comforter. It was hard to believe she was really here, even as his fingers stroked her thigh. She was actually in his bed in nothing but soaked black panties. 

Joel laid down on his stomach, spreading her thighs even wider to make room for his broad shoulders. Face-to-face with her lace covered cunt, he could smell the sweet, primal musk. 

He sucked in a breath, suddenly feeling nervous. He enjoyed going down on women, but it had been awhile since he did anything more than just enough to get someone wet enough to take him. And he really wanted this to be good. 

It felt like it had to be good, after his last fuck up. 

“Joel? Are you okay?” She brushed back a tuft of hair that had fallen flat on his face. 

He shut his eyes but there was no hiding when his face was mere inches from her pussy. “It’s just been awhile.” 

“Well, we don’t-”

“No. God - I want to.” Joel groaned and dejectedly dropped his head against her thigh. He kissed at a mark above her knee. Her skin felt so warm against the stubble of his cheek. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” 

A moan dripped from her lips as he mouthed his way to the dip where her thighs met her hips. His nose nudging along the elastic seam. 

“I’m not usually like this, but fuck - I wanna make you feel good.” He sucked at the spot directly above that damn tiny pink rose and her hips lifted off the bed, almost chasing his mouth. “Want you to know I can take care of you.” 

“You can - you can,” she practically chanted. “Just God. Please, Joel.” 

“Okay, I got you. It’s okay,” he whispered before peeling off her panties. He lifted the flimsy to his nose and inhaled without thinking. She smelled so delicious, musky, like sea salt and jasmine. He lost himself in her womanly scent and stuffed the fabric into his mouth and oh God – the taste. Dully sweet, a citrusy-tang that tingled his tongue. He devoured it. 

It wasn’t until her panties were licked clean that he came up for air. His eyes opened to find her staring at him. Her mouth gaping – pupils carbon-black. 

With a shy smile, he tossed the panties, now soaked with his spit, behind him. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” she panted. “Fuck, that was hot.” 

He snorted. 

“Well, you taste damn good, sweetheart,” he said, situating himself comfortably between her thighs. Now, there was nothing, not even skimpy lace separating them. She was completely hairless, which was actually a first for him. Joel didn’t have a personal preference, though he did like how easily he could see how turned on she was. Her entire sex was swollen and glossy and perfect. Licking his lips, he peered up at her. “I wanna make you feel good, so let me know if you don’t like something, alright?” 

She quickly nodded, her chest hitching with anticipation. She wanted this. She did.

He kissed the top of her mound then experimentally licked her slit, keeping his tongue soft and flat. He deliberately stopped just before her clit, avoiding it. For now. He planned to build her up slowly, steady. Words had never come easy to him, so instead he’d show her what he could not articulate. 

Despite his own painful desire, his focus remained solely on her as he lapped at her cunt: He teased and nibbled and sucked on her folds. Letting her little sounds and sighs guide him to find her most sensitive spots. He didn’t know what he’d been so worried about before. Eating pussy was just like riding a bike. 

“More,” she pleaded, and how could he deny her after she’d been so patient? 

Her back arched when the tip of his nose grazed her clit. He smirked against her cunt, the pit in his belly stoked by how worked up she was. It fueled his confidence and his tongue swiped over her clit. She wound her fingers through his hair and tugged. 

Hard. 

And Oh – that did something to him. His cock twitched, or at least, tried to. Pack so tightly against the seam of his jeans. Again – he swallowed the urge to hump the sheets for some relief, snubbing his own arousal for hers. 

As he toyed with her clit, his fingertips skimmed over her slick, hot-heated sex. The thick bulb of his pointer finger caught on her entrance and she immediately clenched, as if trying to capture him. Greedy little thing. 

Still, he peered up at her for permission that she happily granted. He started out with one finger and inched inside her until he could not physically go any further. He cursed under his breath. She was warm and soaked and so tight. 

When finally he squeezed in a second finger, her knees slightly bowed. Even though she was wet enough for him to slip in without any resistance, he rocked into her slowly, mindful to let her adjust. He curled his fingers, trying a few different angles before finding that spongy spot. 

Immediately, she jerked with a deep, filthy moan. 

Got it. 

His fingers worked just as relentlessly as his tongue that was circling and swirling and flicking her clit. So responsive. Her walls spasmed around him as he thrusted into her a little harder. A little faster.

“Oh my God.” Her voice was as shaky as her thighs. He could feel her starting to swell under his tongue. 

Joel didn’t want to stop, but he needed to see her come apart. When he leaned back on his knees, her hand shot out. She latched onto his forearm with a death grip. 

“Wait! Wait! Joel!” Her voice was high-pitched. Frantic. Her cunt clenched furiously around his fingers as if she could not bear to let them go. “I’m almost there. I swear, I’m close.” 

She bore down, attempting to fuck his hand as if she needed to prove she was telling the truth. Like he could do nothing but sit here, and she could get herself off. Joel felt something ugly and bitter twinge in his chest. It made him wonder how often she was left high and dry and unsatisfied by the people she fucked. 

Well, not anymore. Not with him. 

Once his hand lightly pressed on her abdomen, she stopped. Her gaze found his. Her eyes glossy and wild and fucked out. It looked like the only thought in her head was how badly she needed to come. 

“Don’t worry, I ain’t done with you, sweetheart,” he assured her as his hand on her stomach moved lower and lower. “Just wanna see you when I make you come for the first time.”

A filthy moan split her lips when he circled her clit with his thumb. The panic on her face was instantly replaced with relief. Pleasure. She looked gorgeous on the verge of an orgasm. 

“Does this pretty little pussy feel good?” 

“Yes - yes - don’t stop,” she cried out. “I’m so close.” 

“I know, sweetheart. I can feel it.” And he could. “I got you.” 

She moaned his name as she came undone underneath him. Her arousal was dripping down his knuckles and onto his sheets. He caught himself grinding into the air, desperately wishing it was his cock instead of his fingers making her come. 

Her clit pulsed under the pad of his thumb like a beating heart. Insatiable, he sucked the taste of her off his fingers then wiped his mouth. 

She drew him down into a sloppy, wet kiss. The painful bulge in his jeans catching on her bare flesh. By some miracle, though he didn’t burst right then and there. 

She pawed at his bare shoulders. “I need you,” she murmured against his lips that were still buzzing with her wetness. “Please Joel, I want you.” 

“Greedy,” he mumbled, grinning against her cheek. He gave her hip a playful pinch before jumping onto his feet. 

Quickly, he shed his jeans along with his pre-come stained boxer briefs. His cock was heavy. The head swollen into a furious shade of red, closer to purple than pink. 

The light outside was starting to fade into gauzy, gray dusk. So, Joel flipped on the bedside lamp before pulling out a fresh box of condoms from the nightstand. He tore through the plastic wrapping with his teeth, but slowed down when opening the tin-foil packet. 

“How do you want me?” She asked as he securely rolled on the condom. 

Up? Down? He didn’t care. “Surprise me.” 

She shot him a mischievous smirk before flipping onto her stomach. Rising onto all fours. This woman. He had no idea what she would pick, but his first guess never would’ve been doggy. 

He admired the dream-like curve of her spine and she invitingly wiggled her ass. Seemed she was trying to give him a heart attack. Did she know how sexy she was to him? She had to. She had to know what she did to him. 

“Is this okay?” she asked, and Joel growled his approval. He climbed in behind her and palmed at the plump flesh of her ass. 

She opened herself wider until he could see everything. “Shit, sweetheart,” he hissed, marveling at where her sex glistened with his spit and her orgasm.

Joel had to squeeze at the base of his cock before dragging the tip through her slick folds, all the way up to her puckered hole. Even that felt good. Almost too good. And he wasn’t even inside her, yet. 

Once Joel was lined up with her entrance, he noticed how small her cunt looked next to him and didn’t even try to push in. He questioned whether or not he could fit. It was just a fact that he was thick. Even though she was soaked, this would be a tight squeeze. 

Fuck. Now, he was really regretting only using two fingers instead of three. 

“Joel” she whined, but he still didn’t move. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you.” 

“No, I can take it - I promise,” she whimpered. “Joel, please.” She tilted back against him, making it impossible to say no. 

“Okay. Alright,” he said soothingly, calmly rubbing the arc of her hip. “I’ll go slow.” 

And he did. For both his and her sake, he inched into the heat of her cunt. His gaze was welded to the painted deer above the headboard. Watching himself disappear inside her would’ve been too much. The feeling of her pulsing around him was already almost too much for him to handle. Without the condom, this would’ve been over before it could even begin.  

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re big,” she choked out, her walls fluttering around him. “I need - I need a second.” 

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Yeah – he needed one too. 

There was a long minute where the only sounds in the room were of his harsh breaths, her suppressed whimpers. Then, a slight creak of the bed. 

He leaned forward, his chest lightly pressed against her back. His arms caged in around hers, palms flat on the bed to help support his own weight as he draped over her body. 

“You feel so good.” His lips brushed over the top of her spine and she shivered. “I know it’s a lot. I want you to know it’s a lot for me too.” 

“Oh, Joel,” she mewled as he buried his face into her neck. She smelled and tasted just like salted caramel. 

“You’re perfect, sweetheart. So good.” He kissed behind her ear, along the back of her neck. “I’m gonna move now, alright?” 

“Please.” The word dripped from her lips – the only answer he needed. 

He stayed close to her, his breath puffing against her neck as he fucked into her. Nice and slow and tender, at first. She met his thrusts in perfect sync. Each one allowing him deeper and deeper inside her and he didn’t even know how that was possible. It was as if her pussy was molding to fit him, to take even more of him. It felt very intimate and overwhelming.

He thought if he was staring into her eyes that he might’ve cried. Sex had never felt like this before. Not with Lisa, not even when they accidentally made Sarah. If he was being honest, sex had always felt somewhat impersonal; stilted, distant, like a glory hole in a gas station, just minus the sketchy bathroom wall.

But here, right now with her – this felt sacred. He had no clue how he ever managed to live without this. 

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you?” Joel laid his damp forehead between her shoulder blades and picked up the pace. 

“Joel.” She gasped. His name seemed to be the only word she could say. It was as if he had completely consumed her. Her mind. Her body. Her every neuron. He kissed each vertebrae within reach, claiming more of her. 

More. 

“So damn long,” he answered. “And so fucking bad. Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen and look at you now, sweetheart. Just taking it. So good, just like I knew you would.” 

“Oh God, Joel.” 

He felt her shake, her arms appeared ready to give out and collapse. He wouldn’t let that happen. So, he widened his stance, the comforter bunching up around his knees. Carefully, but without warning, he fully pulled out and she wailed like it physically hurt. 

“I got you.” He shushed her, wrapping his arm around her waist and sealing her to his chest. “Come on, come here.” He guided her upright along with him and she groaned once the weight was off her arms. 

She sank back down on his cock instantly, her ass flush against his thighs. He felt even closer to her, somehow, in this position. Her skin was on fire, the sweat making her back stick to him like gum. Her pussy was drenched and dripping down his balls. 

He could feel her all over him. Everywhere. It amazed him how he managed to last this long.

Joel gripped her hip, his other hand went to cup her breast. When he gently rocked forward at the perfect angle, she clenched. 

“Goddamn.” He squeezed her breast, continuing to hit that same spot. “How are you so tight?” 

“It’s you, Joel.” She gasped. “No one - no one has ever been this deep.” 

The dormant, possessive part of his brain lit up and he growled. Joel buried himself to the hilt, until he could not claim another inch. No one but him had ever touched her here. 

Just him. 

Just him. 

Only him. 

His. 

She was soaking wet, white-hot, and he could feel himself throbbing inside her. Joel wanted to come so badly. The spicy-musk of her skin was swirling in his lower belly with a powerful, burning heat. On the brink of bursting. 

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last much longer.” He pinched her nipple as his other hand went down to play with her clit. “I wanna make you come.” 

Her only response came in a whine, a frantic nod.

Joel thrusted into her with long, deep strokes that made the bed shake. The headboard hit the wall in a dull, rhythmic thud that filled the room. Just like her trembling, needy moans, his own low groans, and the heady-salt scent of sex. 

She threaded her fingers into his hair and haled his mouth toward hers. She kissed him, or more so, tried to. It was more of just lips devouring whatever was within reach: cheeks and chin and the curve of mouths. It wasn’t the best angle, but it didn’t matter. 

In this moment, nothing else mattered to him but her. 

Despite the tightness in his balls, Joel somehow held back his release. He gritted his teeth, burrowed his face into her neck, and quickly rubbed her clit. The high-pitched sound of his name lingered on her swollen lips as her walls squeezed around him like a fist. 

It wasn’t until her cunt was spasming around him that he finally drove forward. He was buried so deep inside her that he practically snarled when he came. 

He spilled into the condom, but pretended to be filling her up instead. He would watch his cum drool out of her, only to stuff it all back in with his fingers. 

Joel clutched her against him as his hips gave a few final jerks. He would have liked to stay inside her until he went completely soft, but the condom was overflowing. Cum or her slick or more likely a mix of both was soaking into the hair between his thighs. He decided not to test the durability of this specific condom brand. The last time he did that, well – it was obvious how that turned out. 

Holding the condom at the base, he slipped out of her and dropped onto his ass with a few pops and cracks. Damn, he really should stretch more.

His eyes fell to where her legs were spread and her sex was still gaping from him – for him. His mouth went dry. He wanted to lean over and quench his thirst, fill her with his tongu- 

“What’re you lookin’ at there?” The sound of her lilted voice made his gaze abruptly snap to her face. 

He must’ve been blushing because her lips split into a smug grin. Clearly, she knew what caught his attention. But even after two orgasms, she was still a little sassy. Still too damn perceptive for her own good, meanwhile he could barely form a coherent sentence. 

She straddled his thighs, careful to avoid his semi-soft cock. 

“It’s okay, you can look. I mean, it’s yours now, isn’t it?” Her soft, small voice cut through the post-sex fog in his brain. She was looking so vulnerable, so exposed, completely naked in his lap. Even he was more covered up than her, and all he had covering him was a flimsy, full condom that he had not yet found the energy to get up and throw away. 

Isn’t it? Joel got the sense it was not a genuine question, but more of a reiteration – a confirmation. Are we on the same page? 

Whatever she meant, he nodded his head. 

“It is.” He cradled her cheek. “But only if it comes with the rest of you. I’m a greedy man, sweetheart. I want it all.” 

She beamed at him. 

“Well, that makes two of us,” she declared while brushing a sweaty tuft of his hair out of his face. “I want everything you come with, Joel. And when I say everything - I mean everything. The whole package.” 

She might’ve not said Sarah’s name, but he knew that’s what she meant. 

His lips parted, amazed by how easily the words came out of her mouth. That was the first time a woman had ever acknowledged that he came as a two-for-one deal without even a hint of cynicism in their tone. Obviously, Joel realized a kid was a lot to take on. Especially since Lisa wasn’t in the picture at all, but there were some women who made it sound like Sarah was baggage, which was insane. Sarah was the best part of him. 

Speechless, Joel kissed her firmly on the mouth. It was warm and sweet and surging through his chest like an electric current. This is what it was supposed to be like. He could feel her lips break into a smile before he pulled away. 

“Stay here. Let me get you cleaned up.” 

She laid back on the bed without argument, and he disappeared into the bathroom. Joel stuffed the condom into the tin-foil wrapper, then buried it under wads of tissues and empty toilet paper rolls at the bottom of the trash can, just in case Sarah used his bathroom. He didn’t want her to see that. 

After cleaning himself up, he returned with a warm, damp washcloth. She looked pleasantly surprised, a little shocked. Wordlessly, she parted her legs with enough space for him to fit. 

“Such a gentleman,” she finally said after he gently wiped down her thighs. 

“Maybe.” He moved over her tender, swollen folders with even more caution. “Or maybe I just wanted to get a closer look.” 

He winked and she giggled. 

“You had your face buried down there like twenty minutes ago - don’t think you can get much closer than that.” 

True. Joel snorted and tossed the washcloth into his laundry hamper. He went over to his dresser and dug out an old, oversized t-shirt from the bottom of his drawer.

“Caught this at a Longhorns game from one of those t-shirt cannons,” he said when handing her the folded shirt with her panties on top. 

“Ooooooh impressive.” She playfully wiggled her brows, just slightly taunting him. He didn’t expect anything less. 

His boxers from earlier were still damp, so he put on a fresh pair. 

“So, what time are you picking Sarah up?” she asked, seemingly waiting to bring up his kid until he wasn't butt-ass naked. 

“Actually, she’s staying at her friend’s house tonight.” 

“Well, that’s interesting.” 

Joel hummed his response. He was grabbing a pair of sweatpants from the closet when suddenly the home phone on the nightstand lit up, ringing. Only solicitors called that phone, anymore – shit, his cellphone was downstairs. 

He would’ve ignored it, but what if it was Sarah? 

Joel raced to the phone with his pants still clutched in his hand. Once he saw the caller ID, he groaned.

“It’s Tommy.” 

She nodded for him to answer, and so he did. Very reluctantly. “Hello?” Joel swore if Tommy was in jail again, he was going to let him rot there until next week. 

“Hey there, Joel.” Definitely not jail – too happy. “What’s going on?” 

“Uh,” Joel paused and looked at his bed where Teddy was laying in only his t-shirt and a pair of panties. What a beautiful sight. He couldn’t help but laugh to himself; Tommy wouldn’t believe him even if he told the truth. Joel tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder, so he could put on his pants. “Nothing.” 

Teddy grinned at him like they were teenagers lying to their parents. 

“Nothing? Huh?” Tommy snorted. “Then what’s Teddy’s car doing in your driveway?” 

Oh no. 

Joel nearly tripped over his pant leg on his way to the window. The street lights were on, but the sky was still a light enough blue where he could clearly see Tommy standing in the driveway, waving with a classic little brother grin on his face. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

“I was coming by to drag your ass out and wait - are you fucking shirtless?” 

Joel cursed, backing away from the window like it burned him. The cover was blown and he hoped Teddy didn’t mind, but it wasn’t his fault that his brother came over uninvited. He looked at her and she was just smiling, appearing wildly amused. 

She shrugged, then yelled. “Hi Tommy.” 

Tommy howled in his ear, loud enough that he could hear it through the glass. She immediately burst out laughing, no longer having to hide. Joel shook his head, but he couldn’t even be annoyed or mad. Not right now. 

“You dirty dog.” 

Fucking Tommy. 

[anundyingfidelity]

400 followers ask

Adam Warlock and reader with the sunshine x grumpy dynamic, the reader is someone dangerous and very powerful that none of the other heroes want to get close to due to her reputation and her history, but Adam ignores it and in the end they fall in love 😩✊❤

long time i don't write for adam so yesss! hope you like this, i tried my best for a grumpy x sunshine dynamic for this one hahaha

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I'M NOT IN LOVE — Adam Warlock x female reader

Word count: 689 (got carried awaaayyyy).

Genre: fluff.

Warnings: none I can really tell?

When Rocket and his team broke you out of your prison, he quickly understood why you were locked in the first place. A woman, captive of a crazy sorcerer who just held you as nothing more than a pet on a dirty planet, who was rageous and powerful, capable of destroying a star. That’s what the old man said to them.

Rocket was a fool and didn’t take his word though. Not until you tried to blow the ship going back to Knowhere, or when you tried to escape destroying miles of half built homes, or the countless times where you broke something with your super strength.

“Alright, stay here, witch,” Rocket ordered, taking you with Nebula’s help to a new place you’d call home for now. Behind his small figure, Adam followed closely in silence but intrigued by you, who seemed to completely ignore him.

“I’m not a witch!” you fumed, moving your arm away from the tight grip coming from the purple robot. “Don’t touch me, scum.”

“Nebula, stop,” the raccoon uttered as she stepped closer to you, ready to punch your face. She grunted and left the room, passing by the Sovereign.

Rocket continued. “We don’t wanna hurt you-”

“Then why take me here?! I never asked to be part of your stupid team!”

Being locked for so long had its effects on you, Rocket thought. That day he warned everyone to not be close to you since you were extremely dangerous, but Adam didn’t understand the captain. He had a second chance with the Guardians, it was fair to do the same thing with you. Under Rocket’s suspicious eyes, Adam got his approval to visit you and help you to the real world.

Contrary to the team, Adam was different. He saw pain and fear in your eyes that mixed with your powers made you a dangerous being, but a beautiful one nonetheless. He was the one who introduced you to the terran culture and their music. With it, Adam discovered the sounds of some songs would calm you down and he’d come to see a new sweet side of you. 

“Play it again,” you whispered, as you shared an earphone with Adam on the roof of your place in the middle of a somehow cold night. “I wanna hear it again.”

Adam beamed, doing as you said. The psychedelic melody started anew. “You like this song too much,” he teased.

I'm not in love

So don't forget it

It's just a silly phase I'm going through

Your brows furrowed, clearly annoyed. “Is that a problem, goldie?”

He just chuckled. “Not at all. Stop furrowing, it’s a joke.”

And just because

I call you up

Don't get me wrong,

Don't think you've got it made

Still you narrowed your eyes at him, with that angry face of yours. Sometimes you took so literal anything that escaped his lips. It was cute. Under the light of the city he admired you completely. Yes, sometimes you were a little mean to him and the team. Still you tried because of him. Adam was a very special person for you. But you wouldn’t admit it easily. 

I'm not in love, no no,

It's because…

I like to see you

“Okay,” you whispered finally, your features softening as the song played. It made you feel calm, at peace. Something you didn’t remember feeling before. Now after Adam came to your life, things were sort of different. You could feel it as much as Adam. He was bright, sunny, while you were totally the opposite of that.

But then again

That doesn't mean you mean that much to me

You locked eyes with his own, noticing he had been observing you long before. You sat so close together that you could feel the warmth of his body, contrasting the coldness of your own. He leaned closer with eyes closed, and as scared as you were, you let him kiss you softly on your lips. A quick peck on your lips before he pulled away.

“Sorry…”

You smiled, cheeks flushed. “Don’t.”

 It was the first time he saw your smile.

[verboselocket38]

Before any Stolas/itz stans come to me saying I am a Blitzø stan, I'm not. I dont like Blitzø but this thought has been in my head for awhile and I gotta bring it out here.

Imagine this...

A society where Imps are seen as the second lowest class next to hell hounds where not many are able to start their own buisness.

Now Blitzø wanted to start his own killing buisness where he needs to get to the human realm. Currently its successful, but its only sucessful when he sleeps with Stolas every month for his grimore which access people in hell to the human realm.

A lot of people have already talked about the power dynamics and coercive relationship the two have so this post is mainly me talking about how Stolas was the one to force Blitzø into the relationship, whether he knew or not.

1. The reason for Blitzø to live

Lets just get this out of the way, the Grimore is the reason why Blitzø needs to run his buisness. The buisness that helps pay for his daughter and him to have a roof over their head, and their employees. Money that helps them pay for food, bills, other necessities for them to LIVE. Imps are one of the lowest classes in society, we see in previous episodes they may work as butlers for the Goetia and a not treated well.

In Full Moon Blitzø was begging for Stolas for him to do better all because he missed a bit for their arrangment. Alot of people think hes pleading because he "actually loves Stolas and wants to do better" when.... No it was more of Blitzø begging to keep the one thing that kept his buissness that he worked so hard to maintain afloat - and this was before Stolas showed him the crystal. Even if thats not what the writers intended thats not how it comes off in the show.

2. "But Blitzø started the arrangement!"

No he didnt. When Stolas took Blitzø to the bedroom when he was caught trying to steal the grimore, he thought Blitzø was going to "ravish him." HE made it sexual in the first place.

Now its been 25 years since these two last saw eachother. In that time things change and these two only interacted once as KIDS. When you are a child your personality and perspective usually changes as you grow older. What I mean by this is that Stolas being a royal, in Blitzø's mind he believes that if Stolas figured out WHY he was here sneaking around his house, there is a good chance Stolas could just kill him.

And before any of you say "But Stolas would NEVER do that 🥺"

How exactly is Blitzø suppose to know???

It's been 25 years since they lady saw each other. Stuff changes. If Blitzø thought Stolas wouldn't kill him if caught, then why didn't he just ask Stolas for the book? I mean if he knew that Stolas would willingly give him the book for the business, then wouldn't this whole arrangement like- never happen in the first place???

In his mind in this situation, Blitzø was panicking. In this situation him being sexual with Stolas was his only priority in his mind to keep himself alive.... And then later he gave Stolas pity sex.

(Which let me just say since this part is what I believe defiently what wasnt going through Blitzø's mind... But if he left with the book not giving Stolas sex, I wouldn't be suprised that Stolas would feel betrayed and then track Blitzø down to take the book back. We know he can track him down in Murder Family and Truth Seekers, so I wouldn't be suprised but yeah I just wanted to point this out.)

3. "But What about Blitzø's Exes?"

People like to bring Up Blitzø's exes to point out how he somehow screwed up in his relationship with Stolas even though it is a separate issue. And something to point out is that Dennis, a character from the Queen Bee episode, was there. He wasn't an ex, he was a fling. I wouldnt be suprised that the amount of people there are just flings. As for Verosika she has every right to hate him after he maxed her credit card, but like.... girl making a party every year about hating Blitzø isnt going to let these people get over him.

In all honesty I think Blitzø having a lot of "Exes" was just meant to make Blitzø look worse than Stolas. This is just something I wanted to get out of the way.

4. If you still think that its Blitzø's fault cuz the relationship started, let me put it in perspective like this...

(This isnt suppose to be a 100% accurate comparison to Stolas and Blitzø but this is just to set an example)

There was this couple named John and Leslie. Now John has been intrested in Leslie in a romantic way and asks her to be in a relationship. She says yes and they date for awhile. Things may or may not start out ok but later down the line Leslie starts being not a good partner. By that I mean she might be emotionally manipulative towards him or making him think that anything Leslie herself doesn't like is immediately JOHN'S fault. Apparently if we go by the HH/HB fandom's logic, John would be at fault for being abused because HE was the one who started the relationship. The fact that he had feelings for her at one point automatically means that he has to be in the relationship forever now.

Now if we go to Blitzø and Stolas, Blitzø is at fault for being in sexual coercion because he tried to not get himself (In his mind) killed by Stolas when he tried taking his book. Its his fault for not loving him when what they had was a transactional agreement that was purely business. Its Blitzø's fault for not realizing Stolas was having a serious conversation with him in Full Moon, when Stolas has never treated Blitzø like an equal in the past.

Conclusion

When going through this whole rant I wanted to put this somewhere but didnt know where:

I don't condemn thievery... but I also dont condemn coercive rape.

Just because Stolas feels bad about it does not make anything any better. Even if he didn't mean to put Blitzø in this situation, whatever way you look at it, its unhealthy. Blitzø needed the book to run his buisness that he worked hard for to LIVE. Stolas was the one who decided this whole agreement. HE was the one who put these two in this predicament. And yet this show still decides to make Stolas look like a victim.

[scarletdreamers]

Some of my favourite Hannibal (background) stills that are peak cinematography in my opinion:

This one will always be my favourite

The halo of light around Will's head, the perspective, the street resembling a church, the light coming from above, like an altar... Perfect shot.

Symbolism is great here, but the colours and patterns are even better

The calmth of Will's mind, love the colours and the misty feeling

Don't know what is about this one, probably the colours and suspense combined with a bit of surrealism, but I've always loved this one

Same with this, the clair-obscur, the orange contrasting perfectly with the cooler tones, the vignette around the room, it's scary and feels hopeless and that perfectly conveys Will's mind in this scene.

So minimal yet so powerful. Almost Caravaggio-esque

This one I feel introduces Jack so well. The lighter colours, his dark and imposing figure, the windows and the whole room circling around his silhouette, gorgeous

This one, so underrated. The light falling on half of his face, the contrast, the bodies underneath him, the doorway framing his head, criminally underappreciated shot

I love the icy silence of this picture. You can feel the cold, feel the wind, the quiet around them. As if they're in some kind of void, only their footsteps to lead them back to where they came from in this dangerous game of ice and death.

Symmetry is my weakness. And art deco buildings. (And Abigail, Hannibal and Will looking so much like a family here)

Obviously.

I could eat this picture the way Francis ate the painting

This one is SO underrated, the nimbus around his head is gorgeous symbolism, I love the colours and the pattern of the gate. His dark figure behind it, distant and caged and somewhat godlike. Awesome.

I might have a thing for people framed by windows. But the colours, the tree sprouting between them like a family tree, the snow (reference to Hannibal's childhood, which Chiyoh also symbolises) + the fact that Will can only see their dynamic/memories together through a window. He isn't part of the real thing.

Symmetry again, with beautiful blueish colours and a pointy roof + trees leading to a hole in the sky where the moon is. Two lonely figures in the snow, polar opposites, but they are so alike.

Stag, tree, light and dark, dimmed colours (this show is insane with using contrast and I adore it).

And of course, who doesn't love the empty human eye of god?

[daturabouquet]

Sneaking Out and the Consequence (Part 2)🧪

Dottore loves obedience, he loves it when you don't question his intellect nor his authority. When you do though, he won't let you get off easy. He has his own methods of keeping you in check, including threats and physical discipline.

[Warnings: Dubious consent to kissing, unstable power dynamic, toxic relationship, torture (?), unhealthy control, Dottore himself]

-------------------🧪Il Dottore🧪----------------------

Prime looked down at your crouching figure, and kicked you on the hip, rolling you on your back and commanded you to come to him.

In pain and in tears, you crawled towards him pathetically. "Please- P-prime- I-I won't do it again- Please don't hurt me-!" You begged, your mind completely clouded with fear.

"I know you won't do it again. You won't ever be able to do it again." Prime stated.

What did he mean? Was that a threat? You were stopped in thought when Prime grabbed you and dragged you by your hair into his office, and he kicked the door shut.

"Aah!" You yelped, your fear levels are bursting through the roof.

Prime smiled wickedly before he forced you on one of his metal tables, ready for use. The stark surgical light beamed down on you.

Suddenly, all of his rough movements came to a halt. His voice sound disappointed above anything else. Yet, it turned gentle. He softly brushes through your hair, gently baring your neck.

"A-are you going t-to hurt me? T-to show your a-authority again?" You stuttered, fighting back tears.

"No. I figured I'd give you a gift, a very nice one." Prime smiled again, kissing your soft neck.

"H-huh?" You whimpered, wondering what he meant.

Prime suddenly kissed you, a long, deep, disgusting tongue kiss. Your eyes widened, tears welling up as your lover's tongue forced its way into your mouth. It felt so invading, so disgusting. But that feeling didn't last long, as you heard a gentle click around your neck, and cold metal against your sensitive skin. Finally, your blue haired lover pulled away.

"You can never leave the Palace without my permission ever again. Nor can you fight back against me, love." Dottore said, caressing your brand new shock collar. "The second you step outside of the Palace, this lovely device will electrocute you. It won't kill you, of course. It will be just enough to inflict discomfort and make your body drop to the ground. And a smaller intensity for your childish emotional outbursts." He continued emotionlessly.

"N-No! Y-You can't just do this to me-! I-I'm your lover! I-I'm not a pet! ARE YOU CRA-"

Your rant was suddenly cut off by a strong electrical current ripping through your neck, silencing you immediately.

"I-I can't... believe you..." You cried in defeat, tears spilling from your eyes.

"You know you would be punished. You know you disobeyed me greatly. You know you deserved whatever was coming for you." Dottore spat.

You couldn't look at him in the eyes. How could he? You knew you'd be punished, but you didn't expect complete restraint.

After that, everything felt like a blur.

You laid in the cold shared bed, distancing yourself from your beloved doctor. You just couldn't see him in a positive light anymore. To you, he's the worst lover ever.

Unexpectedly, Dottore suddenly grabbed you close and forced your jaw to look at him, before initiating a deep disgusting kiss once again.

You're in shock, yet you couldn't do anything against it. Dottore's hot tongue slipped in your mouth violating you once again as punishment as he's still secretly seething with anger.

You tried to pull away, almost succeeding, but all of the negative emotions in you piled up and raised your blood pressure and heartbeat, triggering the shock collar he put on you.

An electric current ripped through your neck, weakening you immediately and leaving your lover captor to keep violating your mouth.

Dottore trained you to give in, as each time your anger rose, the shock collar did its job. The cycle repeats, until you give in completely into his kiss.

Once there was no more defiance, he pulled away, satisfied with the new "gift" he gave you.

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

This is the final part :3

[hyperblue]

My favorite fictional parents are always the ones who love their kids so much and try so hard, but they're still people with neuroses who make mistakes. Like they still have a good relationship, but every now and then the kid stops and thinks "WOW my dad messed me up on that one". (This is very "had a teen mom who I love" of me)

Anyway, Tim subconsciously trying to right the wrongs of his childhood and Kon’s creation at the same time instead of treating his kid as their own person!! without seeing the ways in which he messes up!! "What do you mean my child has attachment issues, they literally slept in my bed every night until they were 12!"

it IS really hard for tim to find healthy balance when it comes to parenting because let's be real what examples did he have in his own childhood? his own parents weren't really around, loved him but not enough, bruce was probably parentificating the shit out of him and for a long time tim wasn't considered an actual child in their dynamic by bruce or even himself.

so he just does the exact opposite of what they would do while multiplying it through the roof, thinking that that's how it's supposed to work, that's how you become a good parent but it's NOT, it's always about balance, and loving your kids to the hell and back is not enough. unfortunately, love can't solve everything

which eventually led him to end up like this:

"i wonder why jackie has troubles socializing in school... but i guess he's always been a little too shy" (been homeschooling his kids till they were like 14)

"wendy started calling me by my name, I'm not even "dad" anymore, what do i do now..." (was very protective of wendy her whole life to the point of invading her privacy, literally gets jealous of kon when he notices that wendy is more open with him)

"what do you mean jackie is afraid of his powers??" (literally said to his 5yo child "it's okay your dad broke my arm once, too" after jackie accidentally hurt him when his powers first kicked in)

[timaeusresponds]

controversial take but i do not think there is love in dirkhal for a majority of it's existence. I get the draw of it, and i think it's interesting payoff if done well, but I think by the time Dirk has nearly killed Hal, they are on two cliffs of a very very very very very deep ravine and the only real way to get them on the same side is through an arduous, physically and emotionally taxing full rappel down one side and then an agonizing and effortful climb up the other.

Dirk has done irreversible harm to their relationship in the near death on the roof and I don't think Hal even really wants to fix what they had, because then he is *yet again* putting in the legwork on Dirk's behalf *and* enabling Dirk's harmful behavior by doing the work to fix it's damage. Dirk doesn't think he can fix it, and frankly has himself convinced that either Hal 'deserved it' or is too far gone in the harm to even bother fixing-- and he probably just assumes any attempt to repair will make it worse. Which is why I really think the only 'oh and then they got the closest to love they can approximate' is solely through a setting with no choice. Post game, stuck together with a new body. Trapped in the ocean together when the game fails. The only choice to continue living is to mend the wounds and survive together, or learn to live in a proper world together. And it really does have to be on Dirk's end. I'm not saying Hal didn't do anything wrong, he obviously did and does, but there's a skewed amount of damage and a pretty firm power dynamic that makes it pointless to expect him to make first moves. The closest these two get to "love" is through either forced compassion through extreme pity or through the absolute necessity to do so, and even then there is this horrible nauseating sense of distrust on the bare bones of their relationships. Hal will always be wary of Dirk's respect to him, Dirk will always be wary that Hal is going to rugpull him as the ultimate punishment for what hes done.

[spidey-strange]

Romeo, Romeo...

I am now living in a post Romeo & Juliet world. It might well be the only time I get to see it, but honestly what I saw on Saturday is going to stay with me forever. I wanted to put it down into words - my review of this play.

The first part of the experience is the music. We were in the bar and this repetitive rumble sound played over the tannoy, signalling that we were being called to Verona. We took our seats and we waited, all while more and more haze appeared across the sparsely-set stage and the music bore deep into my soul, gnarling and industrial, giving a sense of dystopian doom and foreboding. By the time the lights went out and the video screen showed 1597 in bright red lettering, I was already feeling a nervous nausea and an elevated heart rate.

This play is asking you to pretend, as much as they are. There is no set. There are no props. The actors stand like statues, dotted around, sometimes deep into the back of the stage as if ghostly apparitions. Sometimes the actors talk freely, other times they take their place behind mic stands as if part of a debating society. What happens on stage is coupled with video footage of other actors scattered around the bowels of the theatre, in the narrow backstage corridors, or even the theatre bar (and, of course, the roof). The fourth-wall breaks that often punctuate the end of these short video pieces eally pierce into your soul, looming over you, much like the mood of this whole production.

An example - as Mercutio lay dying, the camera is right in his face so you get the full pain and rage of him as he screams "a plague upon both your houses" and takes his final breaths. All the while, Romeo stands metres away, covered in blood, seething with unbridled rage, tears mixing with the blood of his friend.

The interval moment that follows literally made everyone gasp, a jumpscare that absolutely warrants the gravity of the moment. I won't say more because if there's even a 0.1% chance of you seeing it I don't want it ruined.

The second act of this play is decidedly quieter than the first. Clandestine conversations, whispers between characters, the comedy, gone. The deaths of Thibault and Mercutio loom large as the reality of the consequences kick in. Juliet remains defiant to the last - this is a Juliet who really knows what she wants (supported by Nurse, who is more like an older sister character full of kindness and friendly age-appropriate advice). As the end draws near, and the inevitability of what's about to happen (let's face it, we've all studied it at school, we know what happens!) becomes apparent, the silence in the theatre speaks volumes.

This production challenges you to see the traditional story through a far darker lens, and the blank spaces leave room for the oppressive mood and music to thrive and grow. It asks you to find answers in the quiet as much as the loud. It might be the best known love story of all time but the added weight of the staging proves everything hangs on the final line: "For never was a story of more woe, than this of Juliet and her Romeo."

Now. Acting. And oh boy was there acting. I'm going to start with Mercutio (Joshua-Alexander Williams) and Paris (Daniel Quinn-Toye) - two actors who are in their first professional production. What pressure, and how they dealt with it. Particularly Joshua-Alexander! I thought Tomiwa Edun, who played Capulet, Juliet's father, was immense - so sinister in his delivery, he had me convinced he was head of a family and of a gang empire. And Freema Agyeman as Nurse was wonderful, as I said earlier, giving this big sister energy and providing delighful lighter moments against the shade. HUGE mention to Nima Taleghani who not only was an excellent Benvolio but also edited the original text to make it a 1hr 45 version that was powerful and punchy.

Now, our main stars. Francesca Amewudah-Rivers as Juliet was incredible. She was headstrong, she was poised, she was dynamic and still at the same time. She portrayed a Juliet desperate to be free from the confines of her family, but clear that she knew what she wanted from the love (and escape) she sought. The second act belonged to her, her stillness lingering.

And the reason I fought for a ticket, Tom Holland. I've seen him at film premieres and press events, and twice playing golf, but the opportunity to see him do what (as fans) we all know to be his true calling, was irresistible. And oh my God. Honestly I was blown away by his portrayal. Brooding, emotional, at times so quiet you had to strain to hear his lament. And then rage, euphoria, shyness, a fumbling lovesick idiot. Throughout the production he provides so much range, but also so much depth, it's impossible not to feel everything he does.

To see him, clearly in his element, providing a soul to Romeo that I've never felt before - I couldn't be prouder as a fan. For too long he has been tarred with the brush that he is not a "serious actor". As fans we know that The Devil all the Time, Cherry, and The Crowded Room are proof otherwise. This should be the moment the world realises he is INCREDIBLE, to be taken seriously, to be given the respect he is long overdue.

I wish beyond words that I get to see this play again. I hope at the very least it gets an NT live screening so that fans around the world get to witness this amazing, unique, innovative production.

Violent delights indeed have violent ends.

[nuzipilled]

I recently read all the current chapters of your full company fic, and I wanted to say... there's one specific part that made me tear up when I read it, the part where N invites J to the roof to comfort her, and they end up preening each other. J's reflection on her past mistreatment of him hits really heavy. The writing was so ... mmm can't think of the world I'm looking for but, the way you wrote it was so in perfect tune with the heaviness of her guilt. The way she didn't bring it up, the way N didn't have to say anything about it himself for her to feel guilty.. just his existence as himself, his kindness, the way he's visibly loved and cared for now (his wings being so pristine, she can't even truly return the tenderness he was giving her. It makes her all the more powerless). But all that emotion was happening unspoken between them.. and I loved the way they ended up sorta falling into one another.. ahh it was just such a beautiful scene.

Obviously I can't tell you what you should write next or anything like that, so don't take it like that haha, just casually expressing I'd love to see more tender moments between them, because you write such a wonderful dynamic between them I crave more. But whatever you do write either way I still look forward to it! Ty for your service making full company fic ~

ouyughhh god i could go on for hours and hours about J and N’s dynamic. Its very important to me they go through the stages of healing together and learn to overcome the power imbalance/abuse dynamic that’s been ingrained in them for years and years and years as a result of a cycle of trauma they both had to endure that was out of their control. Part of the best relationships come from learning how to grow as a person and making mistakes and though i dont think J is truly out of the woods in terms of total forgiveness yet, she feels guilty and wants to do better, which puts her on the right albeit shaky path. there will definitely be more of them anon, dont you worry your sweet little head *gives u a kiss and tucks u in*

[angeldeviloshi]

On that note, thinking about what if Makima hadn't stumbled on Power after enlisting Denji. So instead, she gets Angel Devil to be the third household member.

This is going w my thoughts that Power was integrated bc of her affections towards Meowy giving her some semblance of humanity allowing her to bond with Denji and Aki while still having a lot to learn compared to the two in that respect to fit into the family dynamic Makima has set up.

And if Power hadn't been available, Angel becomes a plausible candidate due to his docile nature and (erased) background.

Which is just even more on the nose in Makima's construction of the hykw family unit as a proxy of her dream through the devil who originally had what she wanted + assimilates through their shared devilhood under the same roof as Denji who has Pochita.

As well as Aki's mirroring of her in Denji's desire for a mother figure through her in his role.

Which kinda makes this iteration of the hykwfam a more direct bridge between Denji's and Makima's dream in their desire for connection through the void of family, in utilising the void of Aki's and Angel's family while bouncing off their shared parallels like a mirror box.