Masky basically suffocating you with his chest while going balls deep in you. just pounding your poor cunny raw :(( youâre really trying to keep up but itâs so hard when all you smell is his sweet sweat and his pounding making you dizzy.
itâs so hard to focus when heâs fucking you from behind with his foot on your face. going deeper than you can ever imagine. making your pussy pulse and your legs shake.
how long has it been? 30 minutes? 2 hours? at this point youâre just a blabbering whore who has to stay underneath him until heâs fully satisfied<3
tim with a virgin reader ? also some daddy kink with tim. i'm so starved (not ageplay obviously. YUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!!)
FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK ME.
cw: smut, virginity loss, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), softdom!tim, subfem!reader, daddy kink, breeding, angst if you squint real hard, tim and reader are in love and sweethearts.
a/n: not proofread. at some point i had tears streaming down my eyes.
tim knew you were inexperienced in the romantic field the second he met you during your first date.
wide eyed, lips parted and awkward you staring at him like he was about to pounce on you. poor thing, he thought. you were so nervous during the whole dinner.
he liked it. he let you control the date, let it go at your own slow pace, let you open up.
when he walked you home, you mustered all the courage in your body and told him that you werenât used to all this.
âi justâyâknow. never had this before. iâm just saying this because maybe you want something else and i canât give you that right now.â you said that day.
he just smiled. you were cute. he reassured you that he wasnât in a hurry, and he himself wasnât the kind of man that wanted to fuck and disappear. he wanted something serious.
so, he let a few months pass. sweet dates, late night drives after dinner or early morning drives before getting breakfast. picnic dates, movie nights, or just sitting under his porch and looked at nothing in particular while he smoked.
he even introduced you to brian! his best buddy was happy for him, patting him on his shoulder and said he deserved something this good.
he liked it. the way you held his hand, or the way you looked up at him with wide eyes while he talked. how you giggled, how you smiled.
but fuck. fuck if he didnât want to fuck you sometimes. donât get him wrongâhe was so happy to take things slow. he loved it. he wasnât a superficial guy. he wanted to make sure you were comfortable for your first time.
but he was still a guy at the end of the dayâfisting his cock in bed after a date night with you. you just looked so good in that dress, and he could still remember your perfume and how it seemed to still cling to him.
his hips jerked up to meet his hand as he thought of what he wanted to do with you. heâd treat you so well, heâd make you feel so good, heâd make you cum so many times.
you were his sweet baby. heâd give it to you nice and sweet, like you wanted.
but he wanted to wait. to build the tension. he knew you felt it tooâfrom the way your thighs squeezed whenever he stretched and you caught a glimpse of his biceps, to how you kept staring at his big hands.
which all of it led to now.
make out sessions are not uncommon for you two. it always starts the sameâyou go to his place for movie night, he chooses the movie, and ten minutes into it, youâre on his lap with your tongue in his throat and his arms around you.
âi was thinkingâŚâ you start between kisses.
he hums, eyes closed, âhmm.â
âweâve been together for a while now.â
your breath catches when he bites your bottom lip before letting his tongue lick it over slowly.
âuhuh, thatâs right, hun.â
he knows where youâre hinting at, but he wants you to say it. he feels your arms wrap around his neck and you clear your throat.
youâre so fucking cute.
âi wanna take the step.â
he just canât help it, âwhat step? you wanna move in?â
he loves seeing your cheeks flush in seconds, âno! iââ
he gives you a lopsided grin, âwant me to marry you? make you my sweet wife?â
his hands squeeze your hips and you whine into his neck, absolutely embarrassed.
he laughs as you shake your head, âsay it baby. iâm no mind reader.â
you feel lightheaded when you mutter, âi want you to make love to me.â
heâs already up on his feet to take you to the bedroom, hands holding the back of your thighs. you wrap your legs around his waist and your heart is racing so fast that you feel the pulse in your head.
when he places you on the mattress, heâs on you right away. big strong arm wrapped around your shoulders to keep you right against his chest while his free hand caresses your cheek with his thumb.
he kisses you againâslower this time, and you melt right into it. you hold onto his shirt with both hands as you kiss him back much faster.
âeasy, baby.â he reminds you, âgo slow. ainât nobody taking me away from you.â
you kiss him slower, lips pressed together and unable to let each other go.
he can feel your body relax; your hands loosen their grip on his shirt to move to his biceps and then his shoulders, and he can feel the muscles in your thighs relax too, letting your legs part around his hips.
his hand moves to the back of your head to let his fingers tangle in your hair, and he tugs the locks gently to tilt your head back, showing him your throat.
his kisses start from the very corner of your mouth, move to the slope of your jaw, to the hidden spot behind your ear, down the side of your neck to find place on your collarbone.
he hopes you can feel his love in them, and you do. you always do. your hands move to his hair. not to hold, or grip, or guide. just feeling the dark strands between your fingers.
he takes a good look at you and he sees you and nothing else in the world. not his trauma, not his guilt obscuring his feelings, nothing at all.
just you with such trust in your eyes that it makes his teeth ache.
ââm gonna take such good care of you, my girl. i promise.â
and that, he did.
you lost count of how many times he has made you cum. on his fingers, on his tongue, on his fingers again. you had to beg him to fuck you.
âthis might hurt a lilâ bit, hun.â he says.
you watch down as his fingers work on his pants, and when his cock slips out of his boxers, your tummy tightens up.
âitâs not gonna fit!â you gasp.
he laughs quietly, placing a kiss on your forehead, âiâll make it fit. you just gotta lay pretty and take deep breaths fâme.â
his tip already stretches you out. his fingers are no comparison to his tip, and it shows with the way you clench around it and whine.
âeasy,â he reminds you with a hand on your tummy, âyouâre doing so good, baby. take a bit more. just a lilâ bit.â
he says it while sliding another inch in. your eyes glaze over as you look at him. he presses a few kiss on your cheek.
âgood?â
âmm.â
when he finally, finally, bottoms out, it makes both of you moan. he holds himself there, feeling the warmth of your walls throb around him, holding him close.
âfuck,â he groans, âyou have no idea how many times iâve thought of this.â
it makes you throb harder and hold onto him tighter. the way he said it held almost no superficial lustâjust a visceral need to feel close to you.
âmoâmove, tim. move.â you whimper into his neck.
and move, he does. his hips drawl back until his tip is the only thing inside before going back in. the pace is slowâalmost maddening, reallyâbut his cock hits so deep that it makes your head blank.
the initial pain subsides and it gives its place to something else. you canât pinpoint it; itâs mind numbling and overwhelming at the same time and it makes you moan and it makes you throb hard and it makes you wrap around him with both arms and legs andâ
âyouâre so good to me.â he groans out.
his hips pick up the pace in the best way and it makes your breath catch.
heâs so good to you, always has been. always treating you like something holy, always opening and closing doors for you, always paying for your meals, always holding you so close and tight and his hands are so warm.
âplease, iâplease, daddyââ
his hips jerk deeper and he throbs hard inside you. it almost makes his eyes roll back.
âyeaâyeah? please what, hm? want daddy to go harder? that it?â
he feels you nod against his neck and he compliesâbecause what kind of man would he be if he didnât listen to his girl?
his pace turns faster, cock going deeper until his tip kisses your cervix so good it makes your toes curl.
âdaddyâs gonna take good care of you.â
it makes your eyes roll back when his thumb moves between your bodies to draw circles around your clit.
you tighten up instantly as chants of his name and âuh, uh, uhâ leave your mouth.
âyeah, i know, i know. youâre real close, arenât you? come on, give it all to daddy.â
and fuck, you do. you cum so hard youâre sure you black out for a few seconds.
timâs right behind youâa few more thrusts and heâs cumming deep inside you. his hips pump a few more and his cock throbs.
youâre both panting in the end, a mess of sweat and limbs tangled together.
âdid so well for me, honey.â he kisses your forehead.
Masseuse! Brian and Tim and they convince bimbo! Reader to get an âinternal massage.â
Brianâs fucking you with your legs thrown over his shoulders, and Timâs pumping into your throat- but you have a mini towel over your eyes. They swear this is a part of the process.
Literally cumming all over you and then rubbing it in with the oils theyâve been using. Youâre whining so loud, too. Moaning like a pornstar because theyâre taking turns filling you.
One minute, Brianâs thrusting inside with your ankles by his ears. The next, Timâs flipping you over to âstretch out the knots in your back.â Mounting you and fucking you nearly through the massage table. Youâre messy everywhere, cunt overstuffed with gluey slick.
Theyâre kneading your thighs open, groping your tits and jacking off onto your face. You ask them for harder, faster or rougher- and you get a âYes, maâam.â Every time.
Youâre hiccuping face down ass up, Tim driving in to the hilt while Brianâs recording. You beg for deeper, and he grabs your waist, grinding slowly to have you squirt onto the thin sheets.
Theyâre passing you back and forth, breeding you nonstop till you physically canât hold anymore cum inside.
Or masseuse AND bimbo! Reader.
One of them comes in because he got a dumb coupon from a victimâs wallet. A free massage, thereâs no harm in relaxing, and it costs nothing, right?
But the second he steps foot into the parlour, his plans change. Youâre a newbie, fresh faced and lost. You got the job on luck alone.
Itâs clear from the start that you have no idea what youâre doing, so he gives you âtips.â Acting like heâs a regular and just wants to help.
Heâs telling you to reach lower, use your hands on him over the towel. Feel him up because itâs been âbothering him.â So you do because heâs handsome and youâre a good worker.
Then heâs telling you to stroke him under it, the wet plaps of you pumping his cock bouncing off the walls. After that, he says that itâd be better if you used your thighs.
He says the pressure is for muscle tension. That itâll be great for the cramp in his leg. You go along with it because he obviously knows better than you, and definitely not because youâre soaked after listening to his grunts.
You sit on his lap, your legs hung over the side of the makeshift bed with his length snug between your thighs. From there, you rock your hips, his base grinding against your clit enough to make your eyes roll.
Then he says the coupon covers a happy ending. You nod despite knowing you havenât looked at it once, and when he tells you to straddle him, you do.
Youâre bouncing yourself on him, letting him slip in and out of your sopping pussy. The stretch has you drooling, mewling high pitched as you continue to follow the script theyâd given you for customers.
âHarder or- hah- ah- softer, s-sir?â When youâre humping him like youâre in heat. âNngh- are you satisfied with our- oh- service?â As you spasm around him, cumming so hard you sob.
Heâs swapping your positions a second later. Pressing your legs to your chest before snapping his hips forward. Shoving his tongue down your throat and saying this will help with the weird pain in his shoulder.
Your uniform is ruined, and your panties are hanging on by a thread. You get so loud that he has to hold one of the hand towels over your mouth. Itâs not your fault, his cock just feels too good buried in your cunt.
Lids heavy, pupils crossing when you clamp around him. Your arousal is thickened from friction, off-white and mixed with his spend. The squelchingâs so lewd it makes him hard all over again, and you end up being bent over nearly every surface in the room.
You check him out with shaky legs. Scanning the coupon with his cum practically still dripping down your thighs. People tend to ask you how you stay so chipper at work, but your answer is always the sameâ
âMy favourite regular is stopping by.â
Can you tell Iâm really into anything medical malpractice adjacent?
guys should I get into writingâŚ? lowkey I have this smut idea with Tim and like I havenât seen anyone do it yetđ I want something with like toxic mind fuckery and like fightingđ
I wanna pin this man down and lowkey beat tf outta him but I also wanna suck marks into his neck and kiss him so hard heâs outta breath.. GUYS DOES THIS MAKE SENSE??
âââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ ready to start - arcade fire
ââ .⌠do not copy, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. dividers by me.
CONTAINS NSFW, MINORS DNI
⌠. Summary: (No correlation to other parts, only prologue) The bottle lands on Tim.
⌠. Characters: Tim Wright (Masky) x Reader
⌠. Warning: Alcohol, cigarettes, erotic asphyxiation, breath control play, semi-public sex, dirty talk, oral fixation, blowjobs, choking, risky sex, nicotine high, dizziness, hair pulling, fingers in mouth, spit, oral sex, rough oral sex, first time blow job
⌠. Words: 12.1k
⌠. Note: Please do not hang me and kill me for how long this took to post. Apologies! Hopefully the length makes up for it! School is officially over, so now I can dedicate my time to writing more, so be on the lookout! For all my blow job lovers (I see you and I appreciate you), this is for you!!!
It was ironic watching your fate be decided by a lousy beer bottle you hadnât even gotten to drink out of yet.
But everything in this lousy mansion is out of your hands anyway.
The bottle spun on the coffee table, wobbling through the leftover alcohol and cigarette ash stains before it slowed and finally stopped.
It landed onâ
You looked up.
Tim.
Before the room could go completely silent, Jeff let out a loud, ugly laugh.
âWell shit,â he crowed, leaning back on the couch and covering his face with his hands. âLooks like Timmy gets the consolation prize. Try not to bore her to death in there, old man.â
Tim didnât snap back. He just stared Jeff down from across the circle, his eyes dark and narrowed. There was something almost smug in the way he tilted his head, like he already knew exactly how much this was eating Jeff alive, how he could practically see right through his asshole demeanor.Â
He stared at Jeff long enough for the boy to sink back into himself a little, but not without rolling his eyes and crossing his arms as he broke the stare down to glare out the window.
But then Tim turned and walked straight past you, his boots thumping on the floorboards as he headed down the short hallway toward the closet like he had all the time in the world.
You stayed seated for a beat, your heart suddenly kicking harder than it should.
Nina wasnât having it. She popped up behind you with a bright, mischievous laugh and hooked her arms under yours, hauling you to your feet.
âNope! Donât be a baby, babe. Go on!â
She gave you a firm shove toward the direction Tim just went. A couple of the others whistled and clapped as you stumbled forward, but as you looked back one final time in anxiousness, all you saw was Jeffâs wide eyes watching you fade around the corner. In amongst the distraction, Brian had moved from his spot and was now leaning against the wall nearest the hall towards the closet. As you approached, he rummaged into his jacket pocket and fished out a silver flip lighter, pushing it into your hands before you could pass.
You looked down at it, feeling the cold weight in your hand, before looking at himâonly for the blond to give you a very confusing nod before he let you go. You shoved it into your back pocket.
Tim was already at the closet door. He yanked it open, reached up, and pulled the chain for the single bare bulb dangling inside. Weak yellow light spilled out over the hanging coats and junk boxes, flumes of dust floated out, and you had to wave the air in front of your face to keep from coughing. He stepped aside, one hand still holding the door, and tilted his head toward the inside.
You hesitated. âTim, I can justââ
âGet over yourself,â he cut you off, keeping his face flat and unreadable. Before you could retort again, he stepped in close, using his body to herd you forward until you were inside the cramped space. The door pulled shut behind him with a final click.
The muffled music and laughter from the living room dulled instantly, only the floorboard thumps under your shoes to keep you company.
Tim reached down and fiddled with the dials on his wristwatch, setting the timer with a few soft clicks. Seven minutes. The little hands began ticking immediately.
You both stood awkwardly about a foot and a half apart, your backs pressed against opposite walls of the cramped closet. You kept your eyes glued to the floor, occasionally fiddling with the hem of your shirt or picking at your fingernails. Tim, on the other hand, didnât even try to hide the fact that he was watching you. His gaze was steadily honed on you, occasionally flicking toward the closed door like he was listening for footsteps or somebody snooping outside. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, digging around until he found his trusty pack of cigarettes. He shook one out and slid it between his lips like he always did.
Then he started patting his other pockets.
âShit,â he grunted under his breath. âLeft my lighter with Brian.â
âOh, wait.â
You hesitated for a second before reaching into your back pocket and pulling out the worn silver lighter Brian had given you moments ago. You held it out to him without a word.
Timâs eyes flicked down to the lighter, then back up to your face. A knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he took it from your fingers, his hand brushing yours.
He flicked it open, lit the cigarette, and took a long, deep drag. The tip glowed bright orange in the dim light. He exhaled a thick plume of smoke toward the ceiling, watching it curl and drift in the stale air, pockets of smog dancing like little ghosts around the lightbulb.
You raised an eyebrow. âYou really think itâs smart to smoke in a closet this small?â
Tim shrugged one shoulder, completely unbothered. He took another drag, then lowered the cigarette, smoke pooling from between his lips as he spoke.
âProbably not.â His voice was gravelly. âBut I've already decided to be in here with you. Might as well add this to the list of bad choices tonight.â
You laughed.
He leaned his head back against the wall, his eyes never really leaving you. The smoke continued to drift lazily between the two of you, filling the small space with the sharp scent of tobacco.
You shifted your weight against the wall under the intensity of his stare, your arms loosely crossed. The smoke was already starting to make the small space feel even stuffier.
âDo you think Jeffâs gonna retaliate at all?â you asked one-offedly, reaching for anything to conversate about.
Tim took another slow drag, then exhaled through his nose. âNo.â
He sounded sure. Almost bored.
âJeffâs emotional and jealous and got a nasty fucking temper,â he continued, flicking ash onto the floor. âBut if heâs actually mad, heâll turn that shit on somebody else. Heâs too scared to come at me.â
You let out a laugh, nodding. âYeah⌠that sounds about right.â
Tim tilted his head slightly, studying you. âWhyâre you concerned?â
âNo reason,â you said quickly, shrugging. âJust⌠you two seem like youâre in some kind of secret competition. Itâs weird.â
Tim went quiet for a long moment. He brought the cigarette back to his lips, taking two slow puffs while he thought. Smoke curled up between you like a hazy curtain.
âMaybe we are,â he finally admitted.
You shook your head. âYouâre not the type to do childish shit like that.â
Tim let out a short, rough laugh, almost like he was surprised by your response.
âFor the right person?â he said, âI might.â
The silence that followed felt heavier than moments before. The muffled noise from the living room seemed to fade even further away, only the cadence of the speakers thumping enough to let you know the party was still happening. You were both just⌠looking at each other.Â
Then Tim pulled the cigarette from his mouth and held it out to you, offering it between two fingers.
You took it carefully. When you brought it to your lips, you could still feel the warmth from his mouth on the filter. You took a puff, the smoke filling your lungs with that familiar burn.
Timâs gaze stayed locked on your mouth, watching the way your lips wrapped around the same spot his had just been. His head tilted slightly, something unreadable shifting in his face as he tracked the motion.
When you lowered the cigarette and exhaled, he was still staring. So you stared right back at him, no longer pretending to study the floor.
Tim looked⌠different tonight, even if only slightly. His clothes were his usual thick jacket and jeans, but they were cleaner than normal, no random gunpowder smudges, no dirt or dried blood. His hair was a little more put together, and that ever-present stern, gruff expression sat heavy on his face like it always did.Â
It was nice seeing him without his mask amongst so many people, but that also meant that he couldnât hide behind it, that he had to face you and everyone else with his whole selfâno Masky there to save him.
âYouâre being tense,â he said bluntly, breaking the silence.
âWell, yeah,â you answered, letting out a short breath.
Tim shrugged one shoulder, reaching out to take the cigarette from you and promptly taking two deep drags. âWeâve been alone together plenty of times before. This isnât any different.â
âIt is different,â you countered. âThis isn't a mission or some supply run or something. This is⌠this.â You gestured vaguely at the cramped space left between you.
âI didnât know context mattered that much to our relationship.â
You let out an awkward little laugh, shifting against the wall. âItâs funny youâre even calling it a relationship.â
Tim raised an eyebrow. âWhy?â
You just shook your head, laughing again under your breath, unsure how to answer. He was being so blunt tonight, more direct than usual, like the straightforwardness was a shield. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw kept flexing, but he wouldnât relax. It was like he was ready to punch you and run at any moment, if he wasnât going to yell at you first.
ââŚAre you nervous?â you asked quietly.
Tim didnât answer right away. He glanced down at the watch on his wrist, studying the little ticking hands.
âSix minutes left,â he said instead, completely sidestepping the question.
You let out an awkward laugh and shook your head.
âItâs okay if youâre nervous, you know,â you told him. âThis is weird, but itâs just a stupid game to embarrass everyone. Itâs not serious.â
Timâs eyes narrowed. âI know that.â
He passed the cigarette back. You brought it to your lips and inhaled, mostly just to give your hands something to do. The smoke filled your lungs, but it did nothing to ease the thick tension sitting between you, even if it did make you a little lightheaded.
The two of you kept staring at each other.
You finally spoke again. âAre you only playing because Jeff egged you on?â
Tim let out a dry laugh and looked down at his boots for a second before his gaze returned to yours.
âNo,â he said simply. âIâm playing because I wanted to.â
âWhy would you want to play something like this?â
âWhy would you?â he asked, turning the question right back on you.
The air felt heavier. You swallowed. âIâm⌠not sure.â
Timâs eyebrow lifted slightly.
âReally?â It seemed like he was almost teasing you.
You held his gaze for a long second, then let out a breath.Â
âNo.â
He took the cigarette back when you offered it, but he didnât bring it to his lips right away. He just kept watching you, smoke curling slowly from the tip.
The timer on his watch continued its quiet ticking. Five minutes left.
Tim finally spoke again. âGood. At least weâre being honest now.â
You narrowed your eyes at him.
âYou think Iâm not being honest?â
Tim shook his head slowly. âNot with yourself.â
You let out a short, disbelieving breath. âWhat the hell is that supposed to mean?â
âYouâre not being honest with what you want.â
âOh, so you know what I want now?â you shot back, irritation rising fast. âYou know whatâs best for me?â
âYeah,â he said simply, like it was obvious. âIâve got a pretty good idea.â
That irritated you more than it should have. You pushed off the wall slightly, glaring up at him.
âYouâre just being rude now, man.â
âYouâve never had a problem with my rudeness before.â
âContext,â you muttered, reiterating the idea he couldnât seem to grasp.
âAh, yes,â he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. âContext.â He took one last drag before dropping the cigarette and crushing it under his boot. âLike the context of Jeff pretending heâs got some kind of claim over you⌠and you going along with it.â
Your stomach twisted. âJeff does not have a claim over me.â
The words had barely left your mouth before Tim took a single, big step forward.
The already cramped closet shrank instantly. He loomed over you, his broad shoulders blocking out most of the weak light from the bulb overhead. The smell of smoke and pine and that familiar warm scent that always clung to him filled the air between you, almost overwhelming you. You pressed your back against the wall once again.
He stared down at you, almost looming.
âThen who does?â
His face was close now, close enough that you could see the thick stubble on his jaw and the tired lines at the corners of his eyes. He wasnât touching you, but the sheer presence of him made your back press harder against the wall.
You glared up at him, your heart kicking against your ribs as the silence stretched, but after a long moment, you finally answered.
âNobody.â
You caught it.
For just a split second, Timâs dark eyes flicked down to your mouth as you said the word, watching the shape of it on your lips. He snapped them back up to yours almost immediately, probably hoping you didnât catch it. But you did.
You swallowed, then added, âNot even Slenderman.â
Tim let out a short, rough laugh.
âHe wouldnât like hearing you say that too much.â
âWellâŚâ you tilted your head slightly, still staring up at him, âheâs not here, is he?â
This time, Tim didnât even try to hide it. His gaze dropped to your mouth again and stayed there longer. You watched his jaw flex, the muscle ticking under the skin as his eyes traced the curve of your lips.Â
It felt like it was getting harder to breathe.
When his eyes finally dragged back up to yours, they seemed darker than before.
âNo,â he murmured. âHeâs not.â
Before you could say anything more, Tim reached into his jacket pocket again, pulling out the same pack of cigarettes.
You huffed. âSeriously? Itâs been, what, two minutes since your last one. Can you really not take a break?â
He didnât answer. He just shook another cigarette out, lit it with the same silver lighter youâd handed him earlier, and took two puffs. The tip burned bright orange, and exhaled the smoke through his nose.Â
Then his hand moved.
He reached out and clasped your jaw firmly, his thick fingers pressing into your cheeks and smooshing them together until your lips puckered. Your hand flew up on instinct, grabbing his wrist and tugging down, but he didnât budge an inch. His grip was strong.
âTimââ your voice was a little muffled against the strain of his grip. For a second you wondered if youâd actually pissed him off.
âOpen.â
You blinked. âWhat?â
âOpen your mouth.â
You searched his face, looking for any sign that he was joking, but there was nothing playful there. You didnât know if you could laugh out of caution of making him more mad, so⌠you did what you were told.
When he was satisfied, Tim leaned in and placed the lit cigarette between your puckered lips, then used his thumb to close your mouth around it.
âYou know what to do,â he murmured.
He didnât let go of your jaw.
You had no choice but to inhale. You took a normal, comfortable drag, the smoke filling your lungs before you exhaled it through your nose. You stared up at him, confused, waiting for some kind of explanation. Was this supposed to be degrading? Some weird power move? Or some weird one-off joke that youâve never known him to make?
But his grip stayed firm on your cheeks, and his expression didnât change. He didnât look satisfied.
You started to squirm, pawing at his arm. âTimââ
âMore,â he said.
You tried to speak around the cigarette, fumbling the filter between your teeth. âWhatâs happening right nowââ
He stepped even closer, one of his boots planting between your feet so your legs were forced to part slightly. His other hand came up to tilt your chin higher, making you look straight up into his face. The overhead light cast harsh shadows over his stern features.
âKeep going,â he grunted.
You furrowed your brows, but obeyed, taking another drag. Then another. He watched every inhale with utmost interest.
âCâmon,â he said quietly, almost coaxing you. âDonât stop.â
You inhaled again, deeper this time, pulling harder on the cigarette. The smoke burned hotter going down. Your head started to feel light.
âAgain,â he continued. âAs much as you can.â
You kept going, breath after breath, the nicotine hitting harder with every pull. Your vision began to swim. A heavy, dizzy fog rolled over your mind as the rush flooded your system. Your knees felt weak. The hand you had on his arm tightened, trying to steady yourself as the world tilted slightly.
Timâs grip on your jaw stayed iron-still, holding you in place while he watched your face closely, seeing every detail of your flushed cheeks and drooping eyes and your steadily relaxing muscles.
âThatâs it,â he muttered, soothing, almost. âOne more. Big one.â
You whimpered softly around the cigarette, head spinning badly now, but you did it anyway. You pulled long and deep until your lungs were burning and the dizziness crashed over you like a wave. The nicotine buzz was overwhelming and sharp and heady, and making everything feel floaty and too warm.
Tim finally pulled the cigarette from between your lips.
You immediately exhaled hard, right into his faceâa thick cloud of smoke rushing out as you tried to empty your burning lungs. The motion triggered a coughing fit. Your eyes watered, your vision became blurry, and you felt completely dizzy and messy, probably looking a little disheveled.
But Tim kept his hand firmly on your jaw, holding your face in place. A small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he watched you struggle, not out of malice but he was clearly satisfied now.
Your head was still swimming badly. You tried to steady yourself, taking shaky, deep breaths of the thick, smoggy air in the tiny closet. The nicotine buzz was intense, making everything feel too floaty and too warm and too out of your body.
âTim⌠I feel really dizzy,â you managed, a little breathless.
You heard him chuckle, âI know.â
His thumb slowly dragged across your bottom lip, wiping away the spit that had gathered there from coughing and your heavy breathing. His eyes followed the motion.
Then, without warning, he brought the cigarette back to his own mouth, took one long, final drag, and dropped it to the floor. He crushed it under his boot right next to the first one.
Before you could even catch your breath, Tim leaned down and kissed you.
He grabbed both sides of your face with his rough hands, holding you firmly as he brought your faces together. Your hands shot up and pressed against his chest, bracing yourself against the embarrassment that was breaking through your mental haze. This was ridiculous. It was some weird, controlling kink thing⌠but your brain wasnât working well enough to care.
All you could focus on was how warm his hands felt against your cheeks and how good his mouth felt on yours.
Then his tongue pushed past your lips, and he breathed the smoke from his lungs into your mouth.
The sudden rush made your head spin all over again. You let out a muffled groan and gripped the front of his jacket tighter, your fingers twisting into the thick fabric. Tim responded by dropping his hands to your waist and yanking your body flush against his.
Oh.
He was hard. You could feel him clearly through his jeans, pressed against your lower stomach. For a split second, nervousness flared in your chest.
Should you be nervous? Probably.
But the thought dissolved almost as quickly as it came.
Fuck it.
You kissed him back harder, desperate to feel something solid amongst all of your dizziness. Tim groaned in his throat and tilted your head, kissing you like he was starving for it, like this was all heâd ever wanted.
It became too much.
The smoke, the nicotine, the heat of his bodyâyou couldnât breathe. You pushed against his chest with both hands. Tim pulled back just enough for you both to gasp for air.
Thick smoke wafted out of both of your mouths, curling between your faces and up into the muggy air. You noted how Timâs face looked, how the smoke parted around his jaw and up above the dark hair in his head. His eyes were dark, his pupils blown wide as he stared down at you. His hands stayed locked on your waist, but his chest rose and fell rhythmically under your palms.
It was getting hard to tell if Tim had always looked this good, or if the overwhelming amount of nicotine in your bloodstream was making your brain go numb.
But after a minute of panting, you felt your senses returningâmost notably, the loud pulse of the music from the living room vibrating through the walls and into your shaky bones. You slowly started regaining your steadiness, the dizzy fog beginning to lift. Tim slid a flat palm up your back.
âDeep breaths,â he hums.
You obeyed without thinking, too deep in whatever headspace heâd pushed you into to pretend it didnât feel ridiculously good. Each inhale felt almost euphoric, your chest rising and falling as you breathed in the thick, smoky air. You gripped the shoulders of his jacket, and after a moment you noticed he was breathing in time with you, drinking down fresh air as you did.
You glanced up at his face. The usual stern mask he wears had fallen into something lazier, almost hazy. He looked a little lost just staring at you with his half-lidded eyes.
When you blinked long enough to reset your vision, you met his eyes again, and he began to lean in toward your lips, his eyes dropping to your mouth in time with his movement. You let him come to you, tilting your chin up to meet himâ
His watch started beeping sharply under his sleeve, knocking the moment right off kilter.
You both jerked back, staring at each other like youâd completely forgotten why you were even in the closet in the first place. Whatever obnoxious spell you both were under vanished. From outside, the music in the living room suddenly cut off. You could hear laughter and the sound of people scrambling down the hallway toward you.
Tim stepped back, putting space between you again. He adjusted his jeans, and tried his best to smooth his jacket out. By the time the door flew open, you were both standing roughly where you started with your backs against opposite walls, trying (and failing) to look casual.
The closet door swung open and you were immediately hit with fresh air and very nosy faces.
Tobyâs was the only one you registered, though. The thick cloud of smoke rolled out past them into the hallway. He wrinkled his nose dramatically, grimacing at you two.
âJ-Jesus, man,â he laughed. âYouâre really smm-smoking in h-here? In a fucking clo-closet?â
Tim just blew air through his nose, clearly unimpressed. He shoved Tobyâs head to the side and stepped out, brushing past the group without another word. He didnât even glance back at you before heading down the hall.
You tried to follow, but Tobyâs eyes locked onto you and he let out a shrill laugh.
âHo-ly shit. You donât loo-look too hah-hot right now.â
âShut up,â you groaned, brushing past him as he started firing off questions.
âWhatâd h-he do? D-Did he make yo-you cry? Why do you smell like an ahh-ashtray? Waitâdid you guys actually do an-anything orââ
You ignored him and made a beeline for the kitchen, desperate for something cold to drink. Your head was still swimmy and light, the nicotine making everything feel slightly tilted as you stumbled through the still-trashed house.
You passed Tim on the way. He had already found his usual spot right next to Brian, the two of them leaning against the wall like they were physically incapable of being more than three feet apart for more than ten minutes. Timâs eyes flicked to you as you walked by, but he didnât say anything. Brian, however, didnât take his eyes off of you as you passed, gathering all the information he needed just from the state of you.
You yanked open the fridge, grabbed the first beer you saw, and popped it open. You drank nearly half of it in one go, the cold yeasty liquid soothing your raw throat and helping ground you a little.
Unfortunately, you werenât alone for long.
Toby wandered in after you, Natalie right beside him and EJ trailing quietly behind them. The three of them formed a little triangle, watching you like a very nosy, very abrasive little troupe of bastards.
Most of the party in the living room had devolved into loud chugging contests and some money-gambling version of Go Fish that involved way too many rules and even more yelling. You were grateful almost everyone else was too distracted to notice how obviously rattled you wereâexcept for these dipshits.
Toby leaned on the island counter, grinning wide enough to make your blood boil a bit. âSo⌠you guh-gonna tell us what hah-happened in there or do w-we have to guess?â
Natalie tilted her head. âYou look like you just got punched in the face⌠but, like, not in a bad way.â
You opened your mouth, ready to snap something mean and defensive, but before you could get it out, Brian walked into the kitchen.
âAlright, thatâs enough,â he waved a hand at the trio. âMove along. Go have your little orgy somewhere else and leave people alone.â
Jack let out a raspy little laugh, which was rare enough that it surprised you into laughing too. Toby whined dramatically but let Natalie tug him away. The three of them shuffled out, Toby still throwing questions over his shoulder until they disappeared back toward the living room and out of your field of vision.
Once they were gone, Brian opened the fridge, rummaged through the junk and pulled out a beer for himself, then popped the tab. He leaned against the counter across from you and took a sip as he studied your face, which you were trying very hard to make seem normal.
âYou alright?â he asked quietly.
You nodded, sipping at your beer if only to give your hands something to do. âYeah⌠just a little⌠shaken up.â
Brian gave an understanding nod. âTim can be a little intense sometimes. Heâs either completely honed in or not interested at all. Sometimes he forgets that not everybody is like that, too.â
Your face burned with embarrassment, but if there was anyone you could talk to about this, it was Brian. He knew Tim better than anyone.
You tapped the cold glass of the bottle in your hands for a second, then asked, âDo you think he only did it because he was pissed about Jeff?â
Brian shook his head immediately.
âNah. Tim doesnât work like that. Jeffâs just an annoying, loud mouth kid to him. He doesnât lose his head over shit like that.â
You stared down at your beer, chewing on your lip. âThen⌠why?â
Brian took another sip, then jerked his chin toward the back door.
âHeâs out on the porch right now. Andâheâs not smoking.â Brian raised his eyebrows. âWhen Timâs not smoking, it means heâs thinking. Thinking real hard.â
He pushed off the counter, nodding toward the fridge.
âGo take him a beer. Thatâll ease him up.â
You watched Brian disappear back into the living room, then immediately pressed the cold beer bottle against your forehead and closed your eyes. The chill helped a little, but your stomach was still doing nervous flips. Not scared-of-Tim flips. Just stupid, schoolgirl-crush, heart-in-your-throat flips. Barf. It was embarrassing as hell.
âGet it together,â you muttered to yourself.
You popped open the fridge again, grabbed the last beer, and started heading for the back porch.Â
But the second you reached the kitchen doorway, you froze.
Jeff was standing there, leaning against the frame, and blocking your path. He didnât say a word. Just stared at you. And it was so⌠unreadable. His eyes flicked over your face, your slightly messy hair, the flush still lingering on your cheeks.
You stared right back.
The silence stretched uncomfortably. For a moment it felt like neither of you would move, but for as much ruckus as Jeff had caused tonight, you were more-than-willing to be rid of him right now. You had bigger things on your plate.Â
You squared your shoulders and shoved past him, knocking his arm out of the way with your shoulder.
He didnât try to stop you.
You moved quickly through the hallway, the noise of the party fading behind you as you pushed through the back door and stepped out onto the wrap-around back porch.
The night air was cooler out here compared to the thick mug of coffee alcohol and smoke inside, trading the damp smells for fresh pines and wet dirt. Most of the party had moved or stayed inside, so the porch was vacant for the most part. But at the far end, where the railing curved into shadows and no one could see if they didnât come outside, stood Tim.
He was leaning forward on the railing, staring out into the dark tree line like he was looking for something. He didnât turn when he heard the door open. He didnât glance over as your shoes creaked across the wooden planks. But you knew that he knew it was you.
You walked up and stopped beside him, setting the unopened beer on the railing near his hand, little beads of condensation dripping onto the wood.
For a few seconds, there was only the sound of crickets and the low hum from inside. You looked out into the treeline too, seeing how the dark shadows gave way to a black void beyond where the porch lights could reach. There were so many creatures and monsters out there, but none of them even came close to shaking your nerves like the man standing right next to you.
âHey.â
Tim finally turned his head, his eyes sliding over to meet yours.Â
Timâs stare had always been like iron, so sharp and guarded and prickling with intensity that kept almost everyone at armâs length. But right now it looked⌠weary? Tired in a way that seemed deeper than just the late hour and the shitty beer.Â
Then his gaze dropped to the bottle in your hand.Â
âWhatâs this?â
âPeace offering,â you said, pushing it toward him a little further. âYou looked like you could use one.â
Tim looked at you again, then at the bottle, before taking it. He twisted the cap off and took a long pull. Almost immediately his face twisted and he huffed through his nose.
âJesus Christ, thatâs awful.â
You couldnât help but smile as you took another drink from your own. For a while, the two of you just leaned against the railing side by side, listening to the crickets and the distant rustle of the woods. The party noises inside felt miles away.
Eventually Tim huffed again, almost like he was annoyed with himself.
âIâm sorry for overstepping in there,â he said quietly. âI got lost in the theatrics of it all.â
You shook your head. âI wouldâve told you to stop if I didnât like it.â
âŚ
You both caught it at the same timeâthe admission, the way it lingered. Your eyes met again.
Tim turned his head fully toward you, that weary look sharpening into something more focused.
âDid you like it?â he asked, and itâs like the words turned to static as they reached your ears.
You looked down at your shoes for a minute.
It had thrown you off, sure. The tightness of the space, the weird dynamic between you two, even the sheer amount of embarrassment from having to play this game at all made your brain feel like mush. But you couldnât deny it.
It felt good.
The dizziness. The way your head went fuzzy and floaty. The way he took control of you completely and didnât let you hide from it. The way every thought in your brain is stamped out the moment oxygen is absent from you.
Yeah⌠it felt good. A lot better than you were ever going to admit.
You took a big drink to buy yourself time for something witty to say, only to realize youâd already finished the entire bottle and there were only droplets left. You sighed and met his stare again.
âItâs a weird question,â you grimaced with an awkward little laugh.
Tim didnât laugh with you.
He pushed off of the railing and stepped closer, close enough that you were suddenly the same distance apart as youâd been in that stupid closet. And who wouldâve thought, but the fresh air out here suddenly became thicker in your lungs too.
His free hand lifted slowly. You watched it rise, your heart kicking off its rapid thumps like shoes in a washing machine once again. His fingers brushed the side of your neck first, and he was sure to feel the goosebumps that were rising there, before they slid from their position to lace around either side of your throat. His palm rested just under your chin.
You stalled completely. Went stock-still.
Heat flooded your face so fast you were sure you looked ridiculous. That familiar, stupid nervousness rushed back over you like a wave, making your breath catch and the tips of your fingers feel numb.
âDo you know your answer now?â he grumbled.
You stared up at him, completely dumbfounded. The words wouldnât come. Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. Before you could find your voice, Tim reached down with his free hand and pried the empty beer bottle youâd forgotten about from your fingers. He set it on the railing beside his own, then closed the last bit of distance between you until your noses almost bumped.
His fingers flexed against the sides of your neck, applying the easiest amount of pressure to your airway.
You gasped sharply and your hands flew up on instinct, grabbing his wrist tightly.
âIs this okay?â he murmured.
You didnât answer right away. The pressure made your breath go shallow, a warm, heavy feeling blooming in your head. It wasnât painfulâjust intense. Overwhelming. Your pulse hammered against his palm.
After a second, you gave him a small nod.
That was all he needed.
Tim leaned in and kissed you, his beer-tasting lips sliding to meet yours, while his hand squeezed a little harder around your throat. It pinpointed your senses onto himâonto how labored he was making your breaths, how fuzzy he was making you feel, how warm and mushy and light all at once.Â
You whimpered against his mouth, the sound embarrassingly whiny and needy as you squeezed your eyes shut. Your fingers tightened around his wrist, doing little to keep yourself afloat as your knees weakened.
Timâs other hand slid down and grabbed your hip firmly, fingers digging in as he pulled you tighter against him.
You tilted your head up further, sliding your hands from his wrist all the way up to the collar of his jacket. You tugged at him, yanking his chest flush against yours. Tim grunted, growling into the kiss and pushing his tongue between your lips, invading your senses.
Things started to get muggy really quick.
His hand around your throat tightened just enough to make your airway feel suddenly shallow. Every breath came out smaller, sweeter, turning your little gasps and whines into something embarrassingly needy between kisses. The more you whimpered, the more Tim chuckled warmly against your mouth.
He finally pulled back just enough for you to gasp in a proper breath, but his hand stayed glued around your throat firmly. Spit glistened on your swollen lips. You were the picture of bliss right now with your hazy eyes and flushed cheeks and lightheaded demeanor. Tim studied your face for a second, then shook his head slightly, like he wasnât satisfied.
âYouâre still too coherent,â he grumbled.
His hand left your hip and rose to your mouth. His thumb traced slowly around your wet lips, smearing the spit across them until they shone. Then he pushed his thumb between your parted lips, sliding it over your tongue.
You tasted the salt of his skin and sighed.
He gently bobbed his thumb in and out of your mouth, teasing, his eyes locked on the sight. You wrapped your lips around it instinctively and started licking, swirling your tongue under the pad of his thumb like it wasnât completely desperate and embarrassing.
The effect on Tim was immediate, though.
âFuckâŚâ He pressed his thumb deeper for a moment, then pulled it out slowly, dragging it across your bottom lip. His hand around your throat flexed again, applying that perfect amount of pressure that made your head swim even more and your blinking grow more rapid.
âYou have no idea what you look like right now.â His hips pressed forward against you, letting you feel exactly how hard he was. âHow good you look.â
Tim dipped his thumb back into your mouth, sliding it slowly over your tongue. Without thinking, you started bobbing your head, sucking on it with gently eager pulls.
âGood job,â his voice dripped with approval.
The words hit you like a spark to dry tinder. Your stomach flipped, heat flooding low in your belly.
He pulled his thumb out, dragging it across your bottom lip and leaving your mouth open and wet. Then he latched his mouth back into yours, kissing you deeply while his hand squeezed tighter.
You moaned into his mouth, the sound snagged as your air began to dissipate.
The kiss turned heated, your tongues sliding hot and messy, teeth nipping each other's lips, both of you breathing hard through it. Tim growled against you, devouring every little sound you gave him.
He pulled back just enough to speak. âIf you wanted this the whole time, you couldâve just asked, sweetheart.â
Then his grip on your throat tightened hard.
Your eyes widened. A sharp, shrill sound escaped you as your airflow suddenly cut off completely. Your hands flew back to his wrist, gripping tight. Your eyes fluttered with tears and rolled slightly as the pressure built fast in your head.
âThatâs it,â he kept his voice steady. âDonât be too loud now, canât have anybody seeing what a mess you are, now can we?â
In your haze, everything felt overwhelming. The rush of blood making your face burn hot. The tight, rigid tension in your body. The floating sensation in your head. It was turning you on so badly you could barely think, could barely keep tabs on the rest of your body.
So, you gave in.
Your body went a little limp in his hold, trusting him, melting against his chest. Failed little breaths turned into choked, whimpering moans that rumbled against his palm. Your thighs pressed together as heat throbbed between them horribly. Tim groaned in time with your sounds, pressing his hard cock against your hip and grinding away, letting you feel how much this was affecting him too.
âDoes it feel good?â his lips brushed your cheek as he kissed you almost tenderly. âYou can let go. Iâve got you, doll.â
You were clawing at his wrist now, not to pull him off, but because the pressure in your head kept building at a staggering rate, a bright white heat spreading through your senses, numbing everything else. It felt so fucking good. So freeing. Like every nerve in your body was lit up and floating at the same time.
You felt warm lines of tears roll down your cheeks.
âAwh⌠poor thing,â he breathed. âDonât you know anybody could walk around this porch right now and see you? Anyone can see what a⌠fuck⌠what a mess you are.â
He stilled up after he said that, like he realized something, like he just had the air punched out of him.
Then he finally let go.
The rush of air back into your lungs hit you like a truck. You coughed violently, your chest doing great swoops as you gasped and choked, desperately trying to pull oxygen back in and getting interrupted by your own coughs. Your legs buckled, but Tim caught you, his arms wrapping around your waist and holding you upright against his chest.
He grumbled his support through it, âThere you go. Take it easy.â
When you finally felt steady enough, you lifted your head from its position of staring blearily down at your shoes. Your cheeks were wet with tears, and you could still feel the mess of spit on your swollen lips. The embarrassment tries to wash over you, but is ultimately overpowered by the thumping ache in your stomach and head.
Tim tilted your chin up with his thumb, studying your face carefully.
âYou alright?â he asked, glancing from one eye to the other, registering how much wider your pupils had become.
You took a shaky second, then nodded. ââŚYeah.â
It was silent for a moment, before you both spoke again:
âYou satisfiâ?â
âCan you do it again?â
Tim groaned. âFuck.â
He grabbed your arm and tugged you backward along the porch, moving you both around the corner of the house where the wrap-around deck tucked against the wall. It was much more private hereâsomeone would have to step fully outside and round the corner to see you.
The second you were hidden from view, Timâs hands landed on your shoulders and pushed you down.
Your knees hit the wooden planks without any resistance. The dizziness was back full tilt, so you swayed a little as you settled, fighting the fog in your head to look up at him. Tim towered over you, broad and dark against the night sky, the porch light casting sharp shadows across his burly face.
Jesus Christ, heâs hot as fuck.
He stared down at you for a moment, breathing harder now, his chest rising and falling in big pulses. He brought both hands to either side of your face, cupping your cheeks and curling his fingers under your jaw. His thumbs brushed over your tear-streaked skin, wiping some of it away.
You broke eye contact and looked straight ahead, right at your eye level.
Fuck.
Timâs bulge was obvious, straining hard against the front of his jeans, the thick outline pulsing slightly with his heartbeat. Your lips parted on a shaky gasp. Even with your vision still a little blurry from the lack of oxygen, it was so evident, you couldnât look away. Your mouth watered.
You wanted it. Horribly.Â
Tim slid one hand to the back of your head, cupping it to keep your limp, oxygen-deprived body from tipping over. Your skin felt prickly all over, your nerves buzzing and firing off in little shivers.
You dragged your gaze back up to his face, swallowing hard.
âI want it,â you whispered, your voice so small you barely even heard it.
Timâs lips curved into a grin, his eyebrows raising in mock question. The sight of it made your stomach flip.
âYeah?â he murmured, stroking your cheek with his thumb. âYou want it so bad⌠then youâre gonna have to take it for yourself.â
Your eyes dropped back down in front of you, then up to his belt. Your hands felt weak, but you raised them anyway and you worked at his belt buckle, the metal clinking as you pulled the leather through the clasps, fighting to get it open.
Tim didnât help you. He just stood there, letting you struggle with the button and zipper, punctuating every step of the way with little sighs or grunts of approval.
âThatâs it,â he said when you finally got the zipper down. âGo on, then. Show me what you want.â
Tim leaned his shoulders back against the side of the house, the wood creaking under his weight as he rolled his hips forward just slightly, like he was offering himself to youâor asking you to hurry upâyou werenât sure.
He was wearing dark navy boxers, and right at the tip of the very prominent bulge there was a small, damp spot where the fabric clung to him. Heart hammering, you shifted higher on your knees. Your hands were still shaky from the lack of oxygen earlier, but you reached up anyway, curling your fingers into the waistband of his boxers. His skin was warm, almost hot, under your fingertips. You noticed the dark trail of hair starting just below his navel, leading down and disappearing beneath the fabric.
You swallowed hard and tugged his boxers down.
The second you pulled them past his hips, his cock sprang free, so heavy, bobbing once right in front of your face.
Oh my god.
He was big. Not porn-star scumbag long, but thick like the rest of his body, girthy in a way that made your stomach tighten with nervous excitement. The flushed head was already glistening with pre-cum, a shiny bead forming at the slit and threatening to drip right there in front of your lips. He was thickest in the middle, the length curving a bit where a prominent vein snaked the underside, throbbing every few moments. You could see it twitch slightly in time with his pulse. All to lead to a dark, messy patch of hair at his pelvis.
Everything felt hazy. You were a little awestruck and more than a little intimidated.
Tim let out a relieved huff when his cock finally fell free, almost like heâd been holding his breath. You could feel the heat rolling off him, smell the musk of his skin and the air from the night. Your thighs pressed together instinctively as another wave of dizzy heat washed through you.
Timâs voice groveled from above you, âYou gonna just stare at it all night?â
There was a punch of amusement in his tone, but mostly it was strained, like he was trying very hard to stay patient while you knelt before him, wide-eyed and visibly overwhelmed.
His cock gave another twitch right in front of you, another bead of pre-cum forming at the tip.
âI⌠Iâve never⌠I meanââ
Tim chuckled. âUse your words.â
You swallowed over the lump in your throat, your cheeks burning hotter. âIâm nervous,â you mumbled. âIâve never done⌠this before.â
Tim raised an eyebrow, tilting his head so he was looking down the bridge of his nose at you. The corner of his mouth twitched.
âNobodyâs used this mouth before?â he asked, almost disbelieving.
He slid his hand from the back of your head to cup under your chin, his thumb dragging across your bottom lip before tugging it down and parting your lips for him. His brows furrowed as he stared at your open mouth.
You licked your lips nervously. âWill you⌠be easy?â
Tim let out a chuckle, the sound warm in his chest.
âAs much as I can be,â he grinned.
Then both of his hands moved to either side of your head, cupping your jaw and cheeks. You placed your hands over his, clutching his fingers tightly as he guided your head forward. Your heartbeat was so violent in your chest you thought heâd be able to hear it.
âOpen up.â
You parted your lips wider, your eyes fixed on his tip as it disappeared under your nose and he eased the head past them. The tip bumped your tongue, the salty taste of his pre-cum spreading across your mouth. You let out a shaky breath through your nose, squeezing his hands harder.
The thick head of his cock slid over your tongue as he pushed in slowly. You opened your mouth wider on instinct, trying to make room for him. He tasted warm and a little gritty, exactly like how he always smelled naturally. Your eyes fluttered closed as you tried to relax your jaw, breathing quickly through your nose.
Tim let out a groan above you, âFuck⌠so wet,â his voice tight with restraint.
He angled your head a little more with both hands and pushed forward again. The tip bumped against the roof of your mouth, making you jerk slightly. Tim hissed through his teeth.
âWatch your teeth, sweetheart.â
He adjusted the angle and pushed a little deeper. You felt your lips stretch around him as roughly the first third of his length filled your mouth. It was a lot and heavy on your tongue, stretching your jaw in a way that made your head spin even more.
You ran your tongue slowly along the sensitive underside of the head, licking at the leaking slit.
âShitââ Tim cursed sharply, his hips twitching forward on their own.
He shifted his weight, steadying himself against the wall, then tugged your head back and forth, bobbing you along the first few inches of his cock. The motion was slow, letting you get used to the size and weight of him.
âThatâs it,â he breathed. âJust like that. Relax your jaw⌠good. Suck a little harder when I pull you forwardâmmhâyeah, fuck, just like that.â
He guided your head forward and back, daring to pull you a little deeper on his length every time.
âEasy now,â he instructed, stroking your cheek. âDonât try to take too much yet. Just focus on relaxingâgood. Yeah. Youâre doing good.â
You could feel his hesitance in how he grabbed you, how he was holding himself stiff to not jar you too roughly. But you asked for this, so he shouldnât hold back for your sake.
So when he pulled your head back, you scrunched your brows and pushed forward instead, taking more of him into your mouth. Tim groaned, his thumbs pressing harder into your cheeks as you stretched your lips wider around his size. Nearly halfway now.
You coughed around him, your eyes watering as he filled your mouth so completely. The stretch burned pleasantly at the corners of your lips and your jaw ached from the awkward stretch, but you didnât pull away. Instead, you let go of his wrists. One hand braced against his pelvis, feeling the tense muscle straining there, while the other wrapped around the thick base of his cock and gave a tentative squeeze.
Tim cursed sharply under his breath, his thumbs digging harder into your cheeks. âThere you go,â he grunted.
You leaned in and took him deeper, sucking on the first half of his length as best you could. The hand wrapped around his base made it easier to angle him, letting you slide your lips further down his shaft. You bobbed your head slowly, trying to find a rhythm, your tongue pressing and sliding along the underside as you worked him.Â
Tim's hips tried to buck forward before he caught himself.
âShit⌠you sure youâve never done this before?â he breathed, staring down at you. âYouâre a fucking natural.â
He slid one hand into your hair, gripping just tight enough to guide you, and started pulling your head back and forth rhythmically. You let him set it, relaxing your jaw as much as you could while your hand continued stroking what your mouth couldnât reach. Your spit was already coating him, making everything slick and messy, dripping down his shaft as your tongue ran over every inch you could reach.
Timâs breathing grew ragged, broken up by low grunts and curses every time you sucked harder or swirled your tongue around the sensitive head.
âThatâs it⌠ahhâfuck,â he murmured when you choked a little. âWho wouldâve thought youâd be this good.â
He rocked his hips in time with the movement of your head, fucking shallowly into your mouth while his fingers stayed tangled in your hair. The obscene wet sounds coming from your mouth were the only noise rivaling the crickets and bugs in the woods, besides Timâs heavy breathing and the mumbled jump of music from inside. Please let it be loud enough so nobody can hear, you thought.
You tried to take more of him, pushing forward eagerly, but the thick head of his cock nudged against the entrance of your throat and you immediately choked, coughing hard around him. You had to pull back, gasping with watery eyes.
Frustration burned in your chest. You wanted thisâwanted himâso you tried again, forcing yourself deeper. Same result. Your throat closed up, and you gagged, pulling back with a wet, embarrassing sound.
One more try. You opened wider, shoved your face forward, and immediately choked again. Lewd, messy noises spilled from your throat as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.
Timâs hands tightened on the sides of your head.
âEasy,â he cooed. âSlow down, doll. Youâre pushing too hard.â
He guided you back until just the swollen tip rested on your tongue. You sucked on it obediently, apologetically, swirling your tongue over the leaking slit, tasting the salty pre-cum that kept dribbling out. Tim let out a moan, gritting his teeth as he watched.
You tried again anyway, your jaw aching in protest as you shoved forward, furrowing your brows in concentration. The wet sounds that came out of you were filthy. Tim groaned again, but this time he pulled you off completely, his cock slipping from your lips with a slick pop.
You gasped for air, spit and tears smeared across your chin and cheeks as you recollected your senses. Tim wiped at your face with his thumb, smearing the mess even more as he looked down at you.
âYouâre doing perfectly,â he strained. âWhatâs the matter?â
You swallowed, still catching your breath, staring at his throbbing, spit-slick cock hovering in front of youâwhich you wanted so desperately.
âI want you to go harder,â you choked over a hoarse voice.
âYouâve barely started. You need to get comfortable firstââ
âI donât care,â you cut in, looking up at him with watery eyes. âI want you to use me. Like how you choked me earlier⌠I want to feel that. I want you to make me feel that way.â
Tim stalled, staring down at you. His cock gave a big twitch right in front of your face, drooling another thick bead of pre-cum that slowly dripped down the shaft. You could see the conflict in his eyesâthe careful, controlled part of him warring with raw want.
Then something in his expression shifted.
He reached down and planted his hand firmly on the crown of your head, his fingers curling tight into your hair. He jerked your head back so you were looking straight up at him. His face was dark now, eyes laden with lust.
âIâll tell you what to do,â he gripped. âBut you listen to me. You fight me and youâll hurt yourself. Understand?â
You nodded quickly, your heart racing.
Tim gripped the base of his cock with his other hand and pulled your head forward. He tapped the glistening tip against your bottom lip a few times, teasing the spit that gleamed there.
âOpen.â
You parted your lips obediently, slipping your tongue out to meet him. He slid the head into your mouth, letting you close your lips around it. Then his hand moved to the back of your head, planting a base there.
âRelax,â he ordered. âDonât fight it.â
Before you could even nod, he pushed forward, sliding deep in one smooth thrust until the head bumped the back of your mouth and pressed against the entrance of your throat. You gagged instantly, but he pulled back just as fast, only to push in again, setting a relentless rhythm.
âOh, there we go,â he grumbled through his pleasure. âGood fucking girl. Just let me use this pretty mouth.â
Tim didnât hold back anymore.
He tightened his grip in your hair and started fucking your mouth with punctuated thrusts, his hips snapping forward to push deeper into the wet heat of your mouth with deep grunts and growls. You grabbed onto his jean-clad thighs for balance, digging your fingers into the rough fabric as you squeezed your eyes shut, trying your best not to fight the constant intrusion despite how your body wanted to.
Every forward snap of his hips made his belt buckle jingle beside your ear. Lewd gags and choked little noises escaping you with every thrust as the thick head of his cock battered the back of your mouth.
âFuckâŚâ Tim hissed through gritted teeth, tugging your hair. âThatâs itâjust take it. Christ, your mouth feels so goddamn good.â
He moaned when you gagged harder around him, his hips stuttering for a second before he pushed in again, a little deeper this time.
âShitâeasy, sweetheart, easy,â he panted, even as he kept thrusting. âI know itâs a lotâmmhâbut your choking is so pretty. Câmon, try again.â
You grunted around him with every deep push, spit dripping down your chin as your throat convulsed. Tears slipped freely down your cheeks now, but you didnât pull away. You held onto his thighs tighter, trying to take deep breaths of air through your nose whenever he pulled back.
Tim cursed under his breath, half at you, half at himself.
âFuck, I shouldnât be doing this to you⌠not like thisâah, shitââ He groaned loudly as you swallowed around him. âBut you feel too fucking good. This greedy little mouth⌠sucking me like you were made for it.â
Tim slowed his hips, easing you forward until just the thick middle of his cock rested between your lips. He let you suck him slowly, dragging your wrapped lips from the middle of his shaft all the way up to the swollen, leaking tip.
âRelax,â he sighed. âDonât fight it. Youâre gonna take all of me.â
A sharp jolt of nervousness shot through you like electricity, but it only made the heat between your legs throb harder. You blinked slowly with glassy eyes, and nodded around him.
He cupped the back of your head firmer. âLean your head back a little⌠yeah, just like that. Open wider for me, doll. Relax your throat. Let me give you what you want.â
You did as he said, tilting your head back and opening your mouth as wide as you could, sucking gently on the tip while your tongue swirled around it.
Tim started pushing in again. This time he didnât stop where he had before.
You felt the prominent vein along his shaft slide over your tongue as he fed more of his thick cock into your mouth. Your jaw ached from the stretch, especially when he reached the widest part of him. You coughed around his length as the head pressed firmly against the tight entrance of your throat.
âEasy⌠easy,â Tim breathed, holding you still. âJust breathe through your nose.â
He abused that spot, shallowly fucking the head of his cock against the beginning of your throat with small, insistent nudges that made you gag and choke wetly around him. Spit dripped down your chin in messy strings.
âRelax your throat,â he grit out. âLet me in. Come on, sweetheart, open up for me. I know you can take it.â
You whimpered around his cock, tears slipping down your cheeks again, but you triedâfocusing on his voice, on relaxing your throat even as your body instinctively fought the intrusion, on every buzzing nerve in your head.
He pushed forward again, feeding more of his thick cock past the uncooperative ring of muscle at the back of your throat. The stretch burned, and you choked around him, again and again, but Tim didnât pull back.
âCâmon,â he growled. âLet it happen.â
You tried. God, you tried. But the deeper he went, the harder it became. It was like he was pushing into your brain. You couldnât tell if you were more frustrated that you werenât being choked on his cock, or that him choking you like this wasnât working.
âLook at me.â
You forced your watery eyes to peel open and up to his. The intensity in his stare was almost too muchâyou had nowhere else to look. Only his tan skin, dark hair, and everything you never knew you wanted so badly.
âJust focus here,â he muttered. âKeep lookinâ at me.â
He kept pushing, inch by inch, until the widest part of his cock forced its way past that tight ring. Your throat spasmed violently around him. You coughed and gagged, your body jerking and trying to pull away, but Tim held your head firmly in place, refusing to let you pull away.
âShh. Relax⌠just relax,â he growled, trying to be soothing even as his own breathing grew ragged. âYouâre doinâ⌠so good. Takinâ me so deep. Fuck, I can feel your throat squeezinâ meâŚâ
Finally, with one last slow push, he bottomed out.
Your nose pressed flush against his pelvis, buried in the coarse patch of dark hair. His length throbbed deep down your throat, completely cutting off your air. The fullness was overwhelming to an alarming rate.Â
Tim let out a long groan, his hips jerking and settling as he held you there.
âJesus Christ⌠all the way. You got every fuckinâ inch.â His voice was hoarse, something youâd never really heard before. âGood. Such a good fucking job for me.â
You were getting lightheaded fast.
The world blurred at the edges, a warm, floaty haze settling over everything. Your throat fluttered and squeezed around the thick length of Timâs cock, every tiny twitch and throb pulling another noise from him. But underneath the strain, the ache, the burning stretch⌠you felt nothing but bliss.
Heâd bottomed out completely. The heavy head of his cock nestled deep in your throat like it belonged there. It felt like a bell had rung somewhere inside your skullâa deep, resonant thrum. The pressure, the fullness, the way your body fought and then haphazardly surrendered⌠it was overwhelming in the best way. You couldnât breathe. You were gagging softly around him, tears streaming down your face, but none of it mattered. It felt too good. Like being choked from the inside out. Like something filthy touching a part of you no one else had ever reached.
Timâs hand slid tenderly over your wet cheek, his thumb brushing away some of the tears as he looked down at you.
âSo pretty,â he rasped. âSo warm.â
His hand drifted lower, cupping under your jaw for a moment, petting you almost sweetly. Then it kept going.
You felt his palm settle over the front of your throat.
Your dazed eyes blinked into focus.
Timâs fingers curled around your neck, squeezing with a good amount of pressure while his cock stayed buried. Your hand flew up and gripped his forearm where you felt it. A muffled whine vibrated around his length as your vision began to tunnel, black creeping in at the edges. Your head felt like it was floating, pulsing with white-hot heat, but the lack of air made everything sharper and softer at the same time. Everything was contradictory.
âSettle down⌠Iâve got you,â Tim murmured. âLook at you. Youâre doing great.â
He kept the pressure steady, not crushing, but firm enough that every shallow, failed attempt at breath turned into a weak, pathetic gag that made your head strain further. Your body trembled. You felt like you were burning aliveâevery nerve lit up, body aching, head spinning so badly you thought you might actually pass out.
And you didnât care.
It felt too good. The numbness, the heat, the overwhelming fullness, how Tim was looking down at you like you were the only thing in the world⌠it was addictive.
Timâs thumb stroked over the front of your throat, feeling the way his own cock bulged there as he held you pinned.
You gazed up at him through puffy, tear-blurred eyes, barely separating where his face began and the porch lights ended. But what you could see was flushed raw, his stern mask cracked open to leave nothing but visceral need.
He gave one involuntary bump of his hips, nudging just a little deeper, and cursed sharply under his breath.
âShit⌠Iâm not gonna last like this,â he growled.
Then something shifted in him. Anxious, restless energy took over, and his hands moved to either side of your head, his fingers threading into your hair as he carefully dragged his cock back. You felt every thick inch sliding out of your throatâthe sudden rush of air, the wet, obscene pull, the way your throat shuttered and clenched around nothing once he was almost all the way out.
You barely had time to breathe before he thrust back in.
Fuck.
The stretch burned as he pushed deep again and bottomed out. Then he did it again. And again.
Tim started fucking your throat in earnest.
He was growly now, almost animalistic with deep, frustrated grunts escaping him with every rough snap of his hips. Heâd pull back halfway, just enough for you to feel the head drag across your tongue, before slamming back in, forcing himself past that tight ring and burying his cock to the hilt.
âFuckâthatâs it,â he rasped, voice breaking. âTake it. Just fuckinâ take it all.â
Your jaw had gone completely slack, your lips stretched wide around the base of him as he used your mouth. Every thrust punched a wet, choked gag out of you. Spit poured down your chin in messy strings, dripping onto your chest and the wooden porch below. Your hands stayed clenched tight on his thighs, holding on for dear life while he fucked your throat with growing urgency. Your body fought desperately for air that never came, but your brain couldnât be more happy.
Timâs hand slid from your hair to your cheek, his rough palm surprisingly gentle as he brushed away some of the tears still rolling down your skin. Then his thumb slipped into the corner of your mouth, hooking inside and pulling your lips open even wider, exposing your tongue for him buried under the weight of his length.
You blinked slowly and let your head go completely lax in his hold. You wanted him to use you exactly how he needed.
âIâm close,â he rasped, groaning as his thrusts turned sharp and frantic. âFuck⌠Iâm gonna cum.â
You looked up at him through wet lashes. His usually neat hair had fallen forward, dark strands messy and sticking to his forehead, hanging into his eyes. He looked completely undone.
âShitâfuck,â Tim cursed sharply.
He pulled his cock out of your throat in one smooth motion. You gasped in wet, raw breaths, your chest heaving as fresh air finally rushed back into your lungs. Before you could even steady yourself, his thumb tugged your bottom lip down, holding your mouth wide open for him.
He pressed the swollen, leaking tip of his cock right against your tongue and started stroking himself in fast, frantic strokes. His body shook with how close he was.
You whined loudly around him, the desperate sound vibrating against his tip as you looked up at him with teary, needy eyes, silently begging the best you could.
That did it.
Tim practically growled when he came.
Thick, hot ropes of cum spilled across your tongue and flooded your open mouth. He kept stroking himself through it, gritting his teeth hard to stay quiet, his shoulders shaking as pulse after heavy pulse poured over your tongue. You moaned, the taste so satisfying and evidence of your hard work.
âAh, God⌠swallow it all,â he growled through clenched teeth. âSwallow what I give you.â
Even as he came, he kept his thumb hooked in the bottom of your mouth, holding you open so he could watch every rope land on your tongue. His whole body trembled with the force of it, his hips twitching as the last few weak spurts dribbled onto your lips.
âChrist.â
When the last of his release had spilled across your tongue, you closed your lips around the sensitive head of his cock and gently sucked.
Timâs hips twitching at the overstimulation. âMmnh⌠youâre gonna kill me.â
You pulled off, then swallowed, feeling the warmth of him slide down your throat. The taste of him lingered on your tongue, so salty and warm.
Exhausted, you slumped down, your chest heaving as you dragged in deep, full breaths. Your head was still spinning, and you could feel the mess of yourself, all the spit and tears drying on your face. You lifted a hand to wipe at your chin, but Tim caught your wrist and swatted it away.
âI got it,â he muttered.
He slid down the wall, his back pressed to the wood as he tucked himself back into his boxers and jeans, quickly fixing his belt. Then he leaned forward, using his rough hands to haphazardly clean the mess from your cheeks and chin. When he was satisfied, he wrapped his hand around your arm and tugged you forward to turn your back against the wall too, your shoulders leaned against the otherâs. The warmth of his body grounded you amongst all the haze.
For the first time you could hear it over the rush in your head, the party was still kicking inside, random yelling and loud music still evident against the quiet out here now.
âYou okay?â
You looked over at Tim, whose face was the picture of exhaustion, mental and physical. You nodded, bumping your shoulder against his playfully.
He watched you for another second, then turned his head to stare out through the porch rails into the dark woods. The crickets kept chirping like nothing had happened.
âI shouldnât have done that to you,â he muttered. âNot out here.â
You let out a tired laugh, leaning your head back against the wall.
âYouâre dumb if you couldnât tell how badly I wanted it,â you said, your voice a lot more hoarse than it had started. âIâm more disappointed you didnât pull something like that sooner. You clearly wanted it, too.â
Tim quietly chuckled, a bit of light breaking through that dark stormcloud that always hovered above his head. For a moment the two of you just sat there, catching your breath and relaxing again. Then you both turned at the same time, your eyes meeting together. You leaned in slowly, and he did the same, faces drawing closer until your lips were barely a breath apartâ
âWhoops.â
You both snapped your heads toward the voice.
Brian stood a few feet away, looking mildly awkward but mostly amused, three open beers clutched between his fingers. He was trying and failing to hide the smirk on his face.
âAm I interrupting?â he asked, tone far too innocent.
Tim let out a long, exhausted sigh and dragged a hand down his face. âCâmon, man.â
Brian stepped closer anyway and handed over two of the beers. Tim took them, passing one straight to you without a word. You accepted it gratefully and took a big, long drink. The cold, bitter liquid felt like heaven on your raw throat.
âToby had a whole stash under his bed,â Brian explained, leaning against the railing across from you. âPartyâs kinda revived itself since you two disappeared. People are doing chugging contests again.â
He took a sip of his own beer, eyes flicking between the two of you with barely-hidden amusement.
âSo⌠had a good time mingling?â he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Tim shot him a flat look. âHow much did you hear?â
Brian shrugged, the picture of innocence. âI donât know what youâre talking about. I was just guarding the door like a responsible friend looking out for his pals.â
You nearly choked on your beer. Tim just shook his head, muttering something under his breath as he took a long drink from his own bottle.
The three of you sat there for a moment in surprisingly comfortable silence, the distant chaos of the party drifting through the walls while the cool night air brushed over your heated skin and wore off the strain. Brianâs smirk never quite went away, but he didnât push it.
Timâs shoulder, however, stayed pressed right against yours.
Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated!
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ââ .⌠rainrot4me2026, all rights reserved. ęŠ .á
âââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ ego - romy mars
ââ .⌠do not copy, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. dividers by me.
CONTAINS NSFW MINORS DNI
⌠. Summary: You hate Toby Rogers. Hate. Heâs immature, and whiny, and gets in your way more often than not. Proxies are meant to work together, but you two just donât. Fights are prone to happen, but when your hands accidentally find his throat, Toby accidentally finds out that he likes it. You hate him. And he hates you. So why can he suddenly not jerk off without thinking about your hands on his neck? Why does he want you to do it again??
⌠. Characters: Ticci Toby x Female Reader, Proxies
⌠. Note: Suprise fic! Please please please mind the tags, thereâs a whole lot going on in this story. Yes, this was supposed to be the German Toby fic, but I decided I was too lazy to follow through, so white-boy Toby it is đ Nonetheless, please enjoy whiny Toby! Iâve been wanting to make a reader-dominant fic for a while, and I finally got around to it! Happy reading!!
The lake was so still. The kind of stillness that made the air heavy, as if even the water held its breath in anticipation. Moonlight fractured across the surface in sharp, silver shards, illuminating the awkward shapes of two figures dragging something heavy across the moss-slick ground.
You and Toby.
The corpse hung between you like an anchor, its weight making your arms ache with each step. The smell of damp earth and decay was thick in your nose. Every time Toby shifted his grip, the body smacked against the ground with a dull thud.
âCareful,â you hissed, slipping on a wet root. âItâs not going to sink if youââ
âMaybe if you d-didnât drop your end every t-two seconds,â Toby grunted, voice muffled under his bulky muzzle, âweâd be done a-al-already.â
You glared, tugging on your end. âExcuse me for not wanting to ruin my boots in swamp water.â
âOh, right,â he shot back, sarcasm dripping, âbecause t-this job is about fashion.â
The two of you stumbled to the edge of the shore, shadows from the Slenderwoods curling around you. The trees loomed like sentinels, tall and skeletal, their branches swaying with a sound that was almost a whisper. You hated this place at nightâthe way the silence seemed alive, watching, waiting. Toby, of course, didnât seem to care. He didnât care about anything, as far as you were concerned.
You heaved the body once, twice, then shoved it into the water with a final grunt. It splashed hard, ripples spreading outward until the lake swallowed them whole. You didnât know the man, didnât even really care to, it was just another job from the Operator. For a moment, you both just stood there, catching your breath, staring at the dark water as the final inches of the body sunk into the abyss.
âHappy now?â you muttered.
âReal p-pro-professional,â he replied flatly.
Your teeth ground together. âYouâre impossible.â
âAnd youâre a pain in the ass,â he shot back without hesitation.
The exchange was so familiar it almost felt rehearsed. Every mission ended like this: harsh words, rolled eyes, and the tension of two people forced into each otherâs orbit who simply didnât fit. The only difference is Masky wasnât here to break it up.
It wasnât like you hadnât tried.
When Slender first made you both proxies, youâd done what Masky and Hoodie told you: learn each otherâs strengths, cover each otherâs weaknesses, trust is mandatory. And you tried. You really did. But from the very first mission, something had been off.
Maybe it was his immaturityâthe way he cracked jokes in the middle of grim work, or the way he blew off orders to do things his own reckless way. Maybe it was your frustrationâyour need for control clashing violently against his chaos. Every step he took felt like it undermined yours. Every word out of his mouth made your patience snap just a little thinner.Â
You werenât blind, though. You saw how efficient he was, how quickly his hatchets moved, how easily he carried violence without hesitation. He was goodâannoyingly good. Which made it worse. Because you should have worked well together. You were both proxies, bound to the same faceless master, trapped in the same mansion and forest. On paper, it made sense. In practice? You were oil and water.
Some people just werenât meant to click.
âGuess weâre d-done here,â Toby muttered, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. He lit it, the brief flare of orange glow painting his face in harsh lines as he unstrapped his muzzle to take a drag. âW-Weâll never get a-along, will we?â
You gave a humorless laugh, wiping splatters of mud from your jeans. âNot a chance.â
He exhaled smoke into the night, shrugging like it didnât matter. âFine by me.â
The lake was silent again, just as still as if there wasnât a body sinking to the bottom now. You turned, hauling back toward the direction of the mansion and away from him, but the walk back was worse than the mission itself. The Slenderwoods closed in on all sides, branches scraping like claws, owls hooting too low, too human. Every shadow moved if you stared too long, but none of that was as grating as the boy trudging a few feet beside you.
âYou couldâve at least waited before stabbing him like that,â you grumbled, pulling your jacket tighter against the chill. âThe plan was to corner himââ
âThe p-plan was slow,â Toby interrupted, his voice sharp and smug. âHe was running. I stopped h-him. Problem solved.â
âProblem solved?â you scoffed. âYou nearly blew our cover, dipshit. He screamed loud enough to wake the entire county.â
Toby snorted, kicking a stone off the path. âStill got h-him in the end, didnât we? Heâs f-fish food now. Youâre welcome.â
You threw him a glare sharp enough to cut. âI didnât ask you to play hero. Thereâs a difference between efficiency and being reckless, and you wouldnât know it if it hit you in the face.â
He tilted his head, grinning as he puffed a dark cloud of cigarette smoke towards you. âGuess t-that makes me reckless, then.â
The banter didnât stop until the looming silhouette of the mansion swallowed you both in its shadow. The Slendermansion sat hunched at the edge of the woods, its black windows like hollow eyes. The air grew heavier the closer you got, as if the walls themselves were listening, feeding.
Inside, the floorboards creaked beneath your boots as you tossed your gear onto the table in the main hall. The familiar smell of stale smoke, mildew, and faint copper clung to the air, but it was the home you knew. Masky was already there, arms crossed, watching the two of you like a teacher sick of breaking up the same fight between the same students.
âYou two done?â Masky asked flatly, eyes narrowing.
âAsk him,â you said at once.
âAsk her,â Toby fired back.
Masky groaned, dragging a hand down his mask. âEvery damn timeâŚâ
From the couch, Hoodie let out a quiet snicker without looking up from his notebook he was sketching in. He never interfered much, but the slight shake of his shoulders told you he found your constant arguments entertaining. Infuriatingly entertaining.
Kate was sprawled in one of the armchairs, cleaning one of her knives with a rag. She raised her eyes just long enough to catch the tail end of your glare-and-growl routine. âYou both need to grow up,â she said bluntly.
You opened your mouth to protest, but Toby beat you to it. âI a-am grown up,â he said, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms, flicking the final ashes from his cigarette onto the grimy floor before tossing it.
Kate arched a brow. âMhm.â
You smirked at that, but it only lasted a second before Toby turned his mockery back on you. âD-D-Donât get too fuckinâ cheekyâyouâre not e-exactly winning any maturity awards e-either.â
You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. âSays the guy who nearly fucked up tonightâs mission by charging in like a bulldozer.â
âAnd you wouldâve l-let him get away while you m-made a speech ab-about âproper execution,ââ Toby countered, mimicking your voice in a whiny falsetto that made Hoodie snort louder.
âUnbelievable,â you muttered, throwing yourself into the opposite armchair with a huff.
Maskyâs sigh was sharp, final. âI donât care how you got it done. The point is, itâs done. Next time, donât cause such a fuss and just get the damn thing over with.â
The words settled between you like a warning. But even warnings didnât last long in this house. The air was too thick, the walls too close. You felt Tobyâs eyes on you from across the room, smug, as if heâd won something.
You looked away first.
And that was the problem. Around Masky, Hoodie, and Kate, you could breathe. The dynamic worked. Missions went smoothly enough. The mansion felt tolerable, almost like a twisted version of family. But with Toby? It was always barbed words, tense silences, and the gnawing thought that youâd never, ever get along.
And yet⌠you were stuck together, whether you liked it or not.
ââ .âŚ
Life in the mansion was cramped, but not in the physical sense. The house itself stretched wide and tall, with too many rooms, too many halls that seemed to change direction when you werenât looking. Space wasnât the problem. People were. Or more specificallyâToby.
Morning started with a fight more often than breakfast.
You were standing in the kitchen, half-awake, nursing a chipped mug of bitter coffee when Toby barreled in, raiding the cabinet like a raccoon.
âDid you ta-take the last of t-the cereal?â he asked, voice scratchy from sleep.
âNo,â you said, sipping slowly. âKate did yesterday.â
Toby pulled the box down anyway, stared at the empty bottom, and turned on you. âSo you k-knew and didnât say an-anything?â
âNot my job to babysit your stomach,â you said dryly, turning your back on him.
By the time he stomped off, Hoodie was already leaning against the doorway, watching the exchange like it was a morning sitcom rerun. He muttered something about âplacing bets next timeâ before pouring his own coffee and disappearing.
Later, it was weapons.
You had your knives laid out on the coffee table, sharpening them methodically, when Toby came over and plucked one up without asking.
âDonât touch my stuff.â
âRelax,â he said, flipping the blade in his palm. âI was j-just looking.â
âLooking with your fingerprints all over it,â you snapped, snatching it back.
Maskyâs sigh from the couch was loud enough to shake the windows. âI swear, itâs like living with children.â
Kate didnât even look up from the book in her lap. âThatâs because it is.â
Toby threw his hands up. âWhat, so s-she can throw a fit but Iâm the p-problem?â
âYes,â Kate and Masky said in unison. You couldnât help smirking at that.
Dinner was the worst.Â
The table was long enough for space, but somehow you and Toby always ended up across from each other. Tonight it was stewâMaskyâs attempt at ânormalcy,â though the meat was questionable at best. You didnât eat together often, but it was a joint effort when you did.
âDonât hog the b-bread,â Toby said, reaching across the table.
âIâve had one piece,â you shot back, yanking the plate closer.
He lunged, you pulled away, and in the struggle the whole loaf toppled onto Hoodieâs lap. He froze, staring down at the mess, then at both of you with the slow, simmering irritation of a man two seconds from throwing something heavy. Kate snorted. Masky pinched the bridge of his nose.
Slender wasnât around much, but you sometimes wondered if he kept you two paired just for his own amusement. Because every day, it was something. The fights were never big enough to break anything, never serious enough to leave bruises. But they stacked. They simmered. They filled the halls like static, humming between every word and every glare. And yet, for all the irritation, all the arguments, neither of you ever walked away for long. Missions still got done. The mansion still ran. Somehow, despite it all, the two of you stayed orbiting each otherâgravitational pull you couldnât escape, even if you wanted to.
ââ .âŚ
It was one of those heavy, still evenings where the Slenderwoods felt closer than usual. The air smelled like damp pine and smoke, a thick fog mist rolling over the dense grass underfoot. You and the others sat out on the creaking porch, ashtrays cluttered between boots and half-empty bottles of water. Masky smoked slow and deep, his mask balancing on the top of his thigh as he leaned back onto the wooden seat. Kate leaned back against the railing, picking at the chipping paint on the wood, eyes sharp but distant. Toby sat a little too close to you, tapping his leg like a drumbeat you couldnât ignore.
You lit your own, trying not to acknowledge him, exhaling a sharp cloud into the humid night.
âSoâŚâ Toby finally said, breaking the comfortable silence. âAnyone e-else notice she always steals the li-lighter first?â
You shot him a look. âI do not.â
âShut up, boy.â Masky started.
âYeah, you do,â he said, grinning beneath the thick goggles that he had pushed up into his hairline. âItâs l-like a compulsion or something.â
âOr maybe youâre just too slow to keep track of your things,â you fired back.
Masky groaned low under his breath, muttering something that sounded like not this again. Before the argument could spiral, Hoodie pushed open the porch door and stepped outside, tucking his notebook into his jacket. His voice cut through the quiet with the weight of a dumbbell on your chest. âNew mission,â he said simply.
Everyone straightened.
âAll of us?â Masky asked.
Hoodie nodded. âYeah. Orders came down. Tonight.â
The group exchanged looks. Missions that required everyone werenât commonâthey usually split duties to keep the mansion covered. When all five were pulled, it meant something bigger, something messier.
âGuess family outing it is,â Kate said dryly, dumping her ashtray onto the gravel siding below.
ââ .âŚ
When darkness settled fully, the mansion stirred alive. Boots thudded against wood floors, gear clinked against belts, and weapons gleamed under dim light. Everyone had their rituals: Masky checked his sidearm three times at least, Hoodie adjusted straps across his chest, Kate wiped down her blade a final time. Toby spun his hatchets between his fingers like a magician showing off. You rolled your eyes and double-checked the knives at your thigh. The air was thick with anticipation.Â
The pickup truck waited outside, dark paint faded from the sun, battered, and smelling faintly of gasoline and smoke. Masky slid into the driverâs seat without a word, Hoodie riding shotgun as he pulled up the map on his cracked cellphone.Â
That left the back.
You climbed in, immediately pressed against the left side. Toby hopped up on the right, his knee bouncing instantly like he was vibrating with restless energy. Kate sighed and planted herself squarely between the two of you, arms crossed, glaring dead ahead through the windshield. The truck dipped and squeaked on its hinges are you all settled in, then rumbled to life, headlights cutting through the black woods.
It only took a few minutes before Toby started.
âYouâre sitting t-too close,â he muttered.
âIâm not even near you,â you said flatly.
âYou do-donât need that m-much space.â
âYou donât need to breathe, but here we are,â you shot back.
Kateâs elbows shot out, hitting both of your ribs at once. âShut up. Both of you.â
You winced, rubbing your side. âOwââ
âDonât tempt me to hit harder,â Kate warned, eyes forward.
Maskyâs voice floated back from the front seat, dripping with amusement despite himself. âThis is going to be a long drive. Quit fighting and occupy yourselves.â
Hoodie didnât even look up from the map. âLongest one yet.â
The engine hummed, the woods blurred past, and the truck rolled deeper into the dark. Despite Kateâs solid wall between you, you could still feel Tobyâs presenceâlike static in the air, buzzing just out of reach. And you hated how much you noticed it.
ââ .âŚ
The truck rattled down the backroads for nearly an hour before Hoodie finally spoke.
âTargetâs in the clearing past Millerâs Gorge,â he said, tapping the map image across his phone screen. âCouple of locals have been sniffing around the woods, talking about setting up cameras, trying to âcatch something.â Boss wants them gone one way or another.â
Kate exhaled a sharp breath. âSo like, wannabe monster hunters.â
âExactly.â Hoodieâs voice was calm but clipped. âTheyâve already posted online. If they get anything solid, Slender wonât be happy. This isnât one we can take half-measures with. We need it erased.â
Masky grunted. âSo we wipe the whole camp.â
âWhy all of us?â you asked, leaning forward from the back.
âBecause thereâs at least five of them,â Hoodie replied. âArmed. And cautious. Not idiots out for ghost storiesâpeople who want proof. People who will fight back. They apparently realize that the stuff theyâre hunting is more than just ghosts.â
The weight of his words settled in the truck. Everyone went quiet, the only sound the hum of the engine and Tobyâs restless knee bouncing against the truck bed.
âShould b-be fun,â Toby muttered.
ââ .âŚ
When the truck finally rolled to a stop, the woods were suffocatingly dark, thick with crickets and the distant sound of running water. Masky killed the headlights, and everyone piled out, boots crunching softly against dead leaves.
The air was tense but focused. The group fanned out at the tree line, eyes scanning the faint glow of campfire in the distance. Voices driftedâmale, confident, laughing, the kind of laugh people made when they didnât know what waited for them.
Masky handed out orders quietly. âPairs. Hoodie with Kate. Iâll take her. Tobyââ He paused, as if even he hated saying it. âYou circle wide and cut off any stragglers.â
Toby scoffed. âSolo? Figures.â
âNo one wants to deal with your noise,â Kate said bluntly, earning a sharp laugh from Hoodie.
Toby shot her a look, but Masky had already moved, tilting his head toward you. âStay sharp.â
You fell in beside him easily. Working with Masky was⌠natural. His movements were measured, precise, and he didnât waste time on unnecessary words. You mirrored his pace without thinking, both of you flowing silently through the trees like youâd trained together for years. Every signal he gave, you read instantly. Every shift you made, he accounted for. It was seamless.
Behind you, faintly, you heard the sound of Toby muttering curses under his breath as he hacked through brush on his solo path. You didnât have to see him to know he was irritated.
Masky glanced your way briefly, as if he could read your thoughts. âIgnore him.â
You smirked faintly. âThatâs the plan.â
Together, you and Masky reached the edge of the camp without a sound. You crouched low, watching the five men move lazily around the fire, rifles slung across the backs of their folding chairs, a camera rig propped against a log. Beer cans were littered everywhere, dozens of containers of eaten food and trash on the forest floor between their tents. They were unprepared.
Masky leaned close, voice low. âOn my signal, we take the two closest. Hoodie and Kate will flank right. Toby will cut off anyone who runs.â
You nodded, knives already loose in your grip. The firelight flickered across the blades, and the thrill of the hunt tingled in your chest.
For the first time all night, you felt steady. Focused. Like the tension from the mansion and the truck ride had melted away into clarity. Thisâthis was what you were good at.
Masky snapped his fingers, the unspoken signal.
The campfire crackled, throwing lazy sparks into the night. The men didnât know they were being watched. Didnât know that five shadows had slipped into their circle of light like wolves closing in.
Masky moved first. His pistol coughed quietly through the silencer, a muted pop, and the man nearest the fire slumped forward without a sound. At the same time, Hoodie slipped behind the next, arm locking around his throat, blade pressing in until the manâs gurgle faded. Kate was quicksilver, gliding from shadow to shadow before sinking her knife between ribs and twisting, her target crumpling into the dirt while her hand held tight over his gaping mouth. You were already in motion, your knives flashing as you closed the distance. Your target barely had time to look up before you drove steel across his throat. Hot blood spilled, spraying across the fire, sizzling as it hit the flames. You let him drop, pulse steady, breathing smooth.
It was clean. Precise. The four of you moved like clockwork.
Then a shout split the clearing.
You spun, heart lurching, eyes scanning. One of them had boltedâno, not bolted. Heâd seen and decided to fight back. Tobyâs voice rang out through the trees, strained, guttural. âGot one!â
Through the smoke, you saw himâlocked in a brutal struggle with the biggest of the group. Broad-shouldered, stronger than the others, swinging wild fists that clipped Tobyâs jaw and nearly sent him sprawling. Toby snarled, teeth bared beneath the thick muzzle, trying to drag the fight into control, but the man was too strong, too desperate. Toby couldnât feel the punches that were thrown, but they still jarred him nonetheless.
Without thinking, you darted forward. You grabbed the hunter by the collar and yanked him backward off Toby, the two of you wrestling him to the ground. Your knee pressed into his chest, pinning him just long enough to shoutâ
âGet up! Now!â
Toby staggered to his feet, hatchet already in his grip. His chest heaved, hair stuck to his forehead, eyes wild and bright. He didnât hesitate.
The hatchet swung.
It sank into the manâs skull with a sickening crunch, the force so hard it sprayed hot blood across your face, soaking into your shirt, spattering down your arms. The warmth hit before the shock did.
You gasped, jerking back in disgust. âToby!â
He yanked the hatchet free, crimson dripping down the blade, chest rising and falling in ragged rhythm. For a second, he looked almost proud of himself.
âYouâyou justââ You swiped at your face, smearing blood across your cheek. âAre you serious?!â
âWhat?â he said, shrugging like he hadnât just drenched you. âI-It worked.â
You stared at him, mouth open, hands sticky with blood. âYou couldâve aimed! You couldâve waited until Iââ
âThere wasnât time!â he shot back, bristling. âHe was go-gonna throw you off. I finished i-it!â
âFinished it? You fuckinâ soaked me with it!â Your voice cracked, frustration boiling over. Blood dripped down your face, sticky, hot, stinking of iron. And Toby just stood there, smug behind his mouth guard, hatchet still wet, staring you up and down.
That was it. You lunged at him.
âHEYââ he barked, staggering back as you grabbed a fistful of his hoodie and slammed him into the dirt. You smeared bloody hands across his face, dragging thick crimson streaks down and across his eyes.
âThere!â you spat, shoving harder. âHow do you like it?â
Toby snarled and shoved back, the two of you tumbling into a heap of thrashing limbs. He rolled, trying to pin you, but you twisted, fist snapping across his jaw. The crack of impact echoed, sharp in the clearing.
âYouâre insane!â he growled, throwing a hand that glanced off your shoulder.
âIâm insane?â you shouted, driving your elbow into his ribs. âYouâre the one whoââ
The words cut off when you shoved your hands to his throat, pinning him to the ground as he tried to sit up. Your fingers locked tight, squeezing hard. His body bucked beneath you, hatchet clattering out of his grip as he clawed at your wrists.
âGetâoffââ he choked, his voice rough, broken. His head thrashed in the dirt, but your grip only tightened. The blood smeared across both of you now, sticky and warm, the world narrowing to the sound of his ragged gasps and the hammering of your pulse.
âDammit!â Masky barked from somewhere beyond. âEnough!â
Kateâs voice cut sharper. âYouâre gonna kill each other!â
But you didnât stop. Not yet. Not until you felt his pulse falter beneath your palms, until his eyes widenedânot with anger, not with panicâbut something else.
Something strange.
Tobyâs body trembled, his breath stuttering under your hands, but instead of pure desperation, there was⌠heat. A rush. A dizzying flood through his veins that wasnât entirely fear. He should have been furious, terrified, clawing harder. But as your fingernails dug into his skin and the world blurred at the edges of his vision, something dark curled inside him. Something you could physically see stirring in him.
âYouâreâŚcrazyâŚâ he rasped, the grip of your wrists faltering as his eyelids began to flutter. You felt your heart skip, but it wasnât enough to register, not when Masky and Kate were on you in a second.
âEnough!â Masky barked, grabbing you by the shoulders and hauling you backward with a force that made your chest wrench from Tobyâs throat. Kate shoved between the two of you, her knife still tight in her hand, eyes blazing.
âAre you out of your mind?â she snapped at you. âYouâre both fucking children.â
You jerked in Maskyâs grip, still seething, still tasting the heat of rage in your mouth. âHeâs a fucking idiot!â
Toby rolled onto his side, coughing, ragged gasps rattling out of him. One hand clutched at his throat, the other dug into the dirt, nails carving furrows. Blood was smeared across his face, his hoodie, everywhereâbut he wasnât looking at you, only at the ground beneath him.
For the first time since youâd known him, Toby was silent.
No muttering. No insults. No half-crazed laughter at your expense. Just⌠silence. He sat up slow, pulling the mouth guard back into place, eyes fixed somewhere past you all. When he stood, it was without a word. He brushed dirt off his hoodie, hatchet hanging limp in his hand, and started toward the edge of the clearing.
âToby,â Hoodie called after him, tone sharp, warning. But Toby didnât answer. Didnât even look back.
The rest of the night crawled like rot under the skin.
You all worked the scene in tense, heavy silenceâdragging bodies, dousing blood with gasoline, scattering ash into the brush. Every now and then you caught a glimpse of Toby through the smoke, his shoulders hunched as he hacked the bodies into smaller pieces to fit into the bonfire you were throwing them into, his jaw clenched tight. No jokes. No muttered complaints. Just methodical, mechanical movements.
When you stripped out of your bloodied shirt near the stream nearby, scrubbing your arms raw in the freezing water, you could feel his eyes burning into your back from across the bank. Not glaring. Not mocking. Just⌠watching. Quiet.
By the time you trudged back to the truck, smelling of iron and smoke and death, Masky was rolling his eyes, muttering about âimmaturity.â Kate looked like she wanted to strangle the both of you herself. Hoodie, as usual, said nothingâjust kept his cigarette glowing, eyes narrowed.
But Toby? He climbed into the bed of the truck without a sound, hatchet propped against his knee, gaze fixed on the passing trees.
The silence pressed down heavier than the arguing ever had. And the longer it stretched, the more you hated it.
ââ .âŚ
The week that followed felt⌠off.
Toby didnât pick fights. Not even little ones. Not the tiny jabs that had been part of your daily rhythmâthe back-and-forth youâd grown used to, the words that always bounced off walls like sparks. He moved through the mansion like a ghost, quiet, methodical, focused only on smoking, weapons, and missions.
When he did speak, it was clipped, necessary. Orders, reports, directionsânever aimed at you. His eyes flicked past, not meeting yours. You caught him glancing at you once or twice when he thought you werenât looking, but it was fleeting, and every time the sight made your stomach tighten with a strange mix of satisfaction and unease.
The bruises on his throat were obvious even if you didnât look close. Dark purple and angry against the pale skin, fading slowly but leaving deep, persistent marks. Youâd caught him passing in the hallway once and remembered the weight of your hands around him, the raw heat of adrenaline and anger. A pang of guilt twisted in your gutâyouâd let him get to youâbut alongside it, a sharper, quieter thrill: for the first time, you had one-upped him. You had won.
At first, that smugness warmed you. You told yourself youâd earned it. You replayed the moment in your head, felt the power, the control. Toby hadnât laughed at you. Toby hadnât mocked you. He hadnât even argued. For once, the scales had tipped.
But the relief didnât last.
Toby didnât bounce back. Not like every time before. The chaos that had defined himâthe relentless teasing, the petty fights, the fire in his voiceâwas gone. He didnât sneak into the kitchen and steal your lighter just to rile you. He didnât flick ash onto your boots and smirk. He didnât mutter under his breath or make jokes youâd spend the day wanting to punch him for.
The absence was strange. Hollow.
By the third day, it felt almost wrong. The mansion, which had been loud and infuriating, was quieter than it had ever been with him there. You realized you had grown used to his presenceânot the violence, not the chaos itself, but the rhythm of it. The constant tension that had made your skin crawl was now a kind of anchor, a pulse you hadnât realized you relied on.
And now? It was gone.
Every time you passed him in the halls, your chest tightened. He wouldnât meet your eyes. He wouldnât speak. He didnât react to your snide comments or half-hearted insults. You felt a creeping, uncomfortable feeling settle over you. Part guilt. Part frustration. Part⌠longing? The tension, the conflict, the constant sparringâit had been exhausting, yes. But now, without it, you were left staring at a quiet, withdrawn version of the boy who had once been the most unpredictable part of your day.
The deeper the week stretched on, the more you realized that what youâd thought was triumph had turned into something else entirely: a slow, gnawing emptiness.
You had won the fight. But you might have lost him.
But you should be happy⌠right?
ââ .âŚ
Another mission order came in from Slender. You were checking your gear in the corner of the mansionâs main hall when Hoodie appeared, silently sliding a small pack over his shoulder.
âYouâre with me on this one,â he said, voice low, precise, as always.
You nodded, hefting your own weapons, already going through mental checklists. This was routine. Simple. Easy. Comfortable.
Then the door creaked, and Toby stepped in. You frozeâjust a little. The mansion felt a little smaller with him there. He moved quietly, deliberately, but there was an edge to his posture you hadnât seen since⌠that fight.
âI should g-go,â he said.
Your hands stopped mid-adjustment, eyes darting to Hoodie.
âYou?â Hoodie asked, brow raised, tone careful. âLike⌠you two?â
Toby didnât answer at first. He just leaned against the doorway, faint shadows under his eyes, arms crossed. Then he met Hoodieâs gaze, and there was⌠determination there. A quiet insistence.
âIâll handle it,â Toby said. âI need t-to go. Need to get o-out of the house.â
You blinked. Dumbfounded. Alone⌠with me? Your chest fluttered with a mix of nerves, disbelief, and something else you didnât want to name yet. You stared at him, really stared, and realized the bruises on his throat were almost goneâjust faint traces of pink fading into pale skin.
You exhaled slowly, running a hand through your hair. âItâs alright,â you said, finally. âI can go with him.â
Hoodieâs eyes shifted between the two of you, expression unreadable. Then he let out a long, resigned sigh. âFine,â he muttered. âBut try not to kill each other before you even get there.â
Toby didnât say anything to you immediately. He just stepped aside, giving you a narrow space to move past him. And thenâyour eyes met his for the first time all week. No words. No sarcasm. No fights. Just a look that was sharp, quiet, heavy. There was something in itâcuriosity, tension, and maybe the barest trace of acknowledgment
You swallowed. He didnât look like the Toby who laughed at your every irritation or goaded you endlessly. He looked⌠different. Still the same chaotic energy under the surface, but tempered. Careful. Watching. Waiting.
You nodded once, almost imperceptibly. He nodded back, then stepped out together into the night. The mansion grew smaller behind you, the faint glow of lights fading, and suddenly, the woods felt wider, quieter, trapping the two of you together.
After the mansion had long disappeared behind the two of you, you tried to break the silence first. âSo⌠you actually decided to acknowledge me. Must be a full moon or something.â
Toby glanced at you briefly. A slow, measured nod. âYep.â
You frowned, adjusting your grip on your pack slung over your shoulder. âAnd⌠youâre not going to pick a fight, bark something sarcastic, or pretend youâre better than me this time?â
Another nod. Short, clipped. âNope.â
You huffed, crossing your arms. âWow. Silent Toby. Real terrifying.â
He didnât answer. Didnât even glance your way. Just kept moving as you followed behind. The tension built like static. Every step you took felt heavier, filled with the weight of all the words unsaid between you. The heat of your own irritation grew, but it was tangled with something elseâsomething that made your stomach twist and pulse.
Time passed, and you knew you were close to your destination when the scent of musk travelled around you.
âYou know,â you muttered, testing the waters again, âwe could at least plan this out before running in there andââ
But he didnât wait for a reply. Not really. He veered slightly off the path, silent and purposeful, already moving ahead toward the dark silhouette of the warehouse you were assigned.
Your jaw tightened. âSeriously?â you snapped under your breath, jogging to catch up. âDo not pull this shit, Toby.â
He didnât look back. Just a brief flick of the head, a nod toward the structure. No words. No argument.
The warehouse loomed as you reached the clearingâold, corrugated metal walls rusted, shadows pooling in every corner. Faint light spilled from windows shattered long ago, revealing crates stacked in uneven towers. The smell of damp wood, oil, and smoke drifted out to meet you. Someone had set up shop here, smugglers taking advantage of the abandoned structure, thinking no one would come. Unluckily, it was stirring commotion in the Slenderwoods, so they had to be rid of.
You stopped just outside, lowering your weapons slightly. âOkay. Soââ
Toby was already moving. Hatchets swinging low in his grip, steps silent as he circled the side entrance, scanning, analyzing, slipping into shadows like he owned the place.
Your irritation flared. âI said we should planââ
No response.
You ground your teeth. He didnât even acknowledge your words beyond a brief nod to indicate heâd seen you. The careful, silent Tobyâthe one who had stopped fighting with you, stopped talking to you altogetherâwas moving without you, ignoring every attempt at control, ignoring the chaotic rhythm you had always relied on when paired.
And somehow, that made you feel even tenser than a shouting match ever could.
The warehouse groaned under its own weight as you slipped inside, shadows thick and stale air heavy with oil and dust. Somewhere deeper in the building, muffled voices echoedâlow, muttering, careless. The smugglers thought they were safe.
You crouched low, pressing into the dark, and flicked a look toward Toby, ready to signal how to split. But he didnât wait. He was already moving, sliding between stacks of crates and disappearing from your sights.
Your jaw clenched. Fine. Youâd adapt.
The first smuggler came into view around the corner, cigarette ember glowing as he leaned against a crate. You tightened your grip on your knife and slid closer, focusing on quieting your movements, heart syncing with your breathâ
âbut Toby slipped in from the opposite side faster than you could realize. His hatchet rose and fell before you could reach striking distance, and the man dropped in silence, cigarette rolling across the floor as blood sputtered from his throat. He couldnât even scream.
You froze, teeth grinding.
Really?
Shoving down the irritation, you darted toward the next shadowâanother guard, pacing near the stairwell. You timed it, waited for him to turn, and lungedâ
âbut Tobyâs arm shot out, shoving you back against a crate. You caught yourself with a hand before you made noise, eyes blazing as you turned on himâonly to see him already driving into the manâs spine. The smuggler collapsed at his feet, blood seeping into the concrete. Toby held his mouth to keep him quiet, but the wretched coughing still echoed slightly.
Your pulse spiked hot. âWhat the fuckââ you hissed low.
Toby only gave a short glance, then moved on. No words. You stalked after him, every nerve on fire. This wasnât an accident. He was cutting you off, stealing every strike, sliding into your space just a second before you could land it.
Another smuggler. Another opportunity. You adjusted your grip, prepared to move.
And then your foot hooked on something.
You stumbled, catching yourself on a crate with a dull thud. Looking down, you saw itâTobyâs boot had slid out at the last second, tripping you. He didnât even look back, just stepped in and slit the throat of the smuggler youâd been aiming for.
Hot rage seared through you.
This wasnât clumsy overlap. This wasnât the two of you failing to mesh. No. This was intentional. Toby wasnât just ignoring you anymoreâhe was playing with you. Undermining you. Pushing you, tripping you, cutting you off, every move designed to make you burn hotter, to make you snap.
The warehouse was a graveyard of broken bodies by the time you and Toby pushed deeper inside. Crates stood like crooked tombstones, the smell of blood thick and metallic in the air. Your knife hand ached from clutching tightly for too long, but not from useâbecause every time you moved in, Toby was there first. Every time you breathed, he was already cutting the air ahead of you.
You were shaking with it now. Rage crawling under your skin like fire ants.
It wasnât just that he was faster. It wasnât just skill. Noâhe was watching you. Waiting for you. Moving not around you, but through you. Blocking, tripping, shoving. Every chance you reached for a kill, his hatchet stole it from your grip at the very last second. And he knew. God, he knew.
The bastard was doing it on purpose. You gritted your teeth so hard your jaw hurt. Your breath sawed in and out, shallow, furious, your chest tight with the effort of holding yourself back. If you opened your mouth, you werenât sure if words or a scream would come out.
Then you reached the last room.
The final smuggler was cornered near a busted loading dock door, fumbling with a pistol in shaking hands. His eyes went wide at the sight of you both, the whites bright in the dim light. Your grip tightened on your knife. Yours. This one is yours.
But Toby moved. Of course he did. He strode forward with that same unnerving calm, hatchet gleaming, as if this was just another tally mark to add to his collection. He didnât even look at you as he raised his arm, claiming the kill before you could take a step.
Something inside you snapped. Before he could swing, you hurled your knife.
The blade hissed through the air, so close you heard the whisper of it graze Tobyâs hoodie as it buried itself in the smugglerâs torso. The man crumpled with a strangled gasp, blood pooling as your knife jutted from his ribs. He was already dead by the time he hit the floor.
Silence rang out for a heartbeat. Then Toby turned. Slowly.
His head cocked, hair falling into his face, eyes burning from behind his goggles. His voice came low, rasping, edged like broken glass. âYou almost h-hit me.â
âGood!â you exploded, stomping forward, your voice shaking as it poured out of you. âI shouldâve aimed for you instead!â
His chest rose and fell, ragged. âWhat t-the fuck is yo-your problem?â
âYouâre my problem!â you spat, closing the distance until you were nearly nose-to-nose. Your finger jabbed hard against his chest, smearing blood into the fabric. âYou wonât stop. You cut me off, you trip me, you push me out of the way like I donât matter!â
He shoved your hand away, heat sparking in his tone. âYou donât g-get it, do you? You ne-never fucking get it.â
âOh, enlighten me then!â You threw your arms out, voice bouncing off the metal walls. âWhat exactly am I missing? That youâre such a big man because you can steal kills out from under me? That you think youâre the only one who knows what the hell theyâre doing?â
Tobyâs hands curled into fists, shoulders tense, body vibrating with contained rage. âYou think t-this is about y-you?â
You laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. âItâs always about me when you make it this way!â
His chest heaved as he stepped closer, hatchet still gripped in his hand though lowered, his voice raising to match yours now. âMaybe if y-you werenât so busy proving yo-yourself every goddamn second, I-I wouldnât have to clean u-up your me-messes!â
You shoved him hard, your palms slamming against his chest. He staggered a step but didnât fall, coming back twice as hot, his own shove rattling your teeth as you stumbled back against a crate.
âMess?!â Your voice cracked, raw with fury. âYouâve been sabotaging me since the second we stepped in here, and Iâm the mess? You think I canât see what youâre doing?â
Tobyâs laughter broke thenâsharp, ragged, almost unhinged, though there was no humor in it. He dragged a hand across his face, shaking his head. âYouâre s-so goddamn blind.â
âOh, screw youââ You lunged, shoving him again, and this time he grabbed your wrist, yanking you forward until your faces nearly collided. You could feel his breath hot against your cheek, could see every drop of blood spattered across his muzzle.
The room buzzed with itâyour rage, his heat, the echo of all that pent-up chaos finally unleashed. The fight wasnât about the smugglers, wasnât about the mission. It was about the two of you, about everything that had burned too long without a spark to ignite it. And now, you were both on fire.
Tobyâs grip on your wrist tightened, and before you could wrench free, you shoved him hard into another crate. The metal screeched as it shifted under his weight. He snarled and came back at you, tackling you full-force. You both went down hard, the concrete jarring every bone in your body. His hatchet skittered away with a clatter, forgotten in the heat of the struggle. You clawed at his hoodie, slamming your knee up to catch his ribs, and he grunted, twisting to roll you beneath him.
âWhy now?!â you shouted, your voice tearing raw through your throat as you shoved at him. âWhy the fuck this week, Toby?!â
His laugh came cracked, bitter, his breath hot against your face as he pressed you down. âWhy do y-you care? You liked it better w-when I shut the hell u-up, right?!â
You twisted, bucking your hips, flipping the both of you onto your sides, rolling across the dirt-stained floor. Broken glass scraped your palm, but you didnât let go. âYou didnât speak to me for daysânothing! Then suddenly you just have to come with me? Just so you can trip me and screw me over?â
He gritted his teeth, voice rough, guttural. âM-Maybe I wanted t-to see how youâd h-handle it. Maybe I w-wa-wanted to see you squirm for once.â
Rage spiked through you, sharp and white-hot. You slammed your elbow into his chest, forcing him onto his back. He gasped, coughing, but his hands were still at your arms, nails biting.
âIs this payback?â you snarled, your breath coming ragged. âFor me choking you out? You sick little shitâyou couldnât just say something, you had to do this? Are you fucking five years old?â
He bucked up, trying to roll you again, and the two of you smashed into a half-rotted crate, splinters bursting. The smell of mold and dust coated your tongue, acrid and foul. You shoved harder, knee digging into his ribs until finallyâyou broke free of his grip and pinned him flat against the concrete. You straddled his waist, your hands pressed hard against his shoulders, forcing him down. Both of you were panting, sweat and blood smeared across your skin, breaths shallow with fury.
And thenâsomething shifted.
Tobyâs head tilted back, baring the flushed stretch of his throat. His pulse throbbed there, fast and strong. And he was looking right at you, eyes wide and unblinking behind the streaks of dirt and blood.
Not fighting. Not mocking. Just⌠giving. Exposing his throat, silent, his gaze locked on yours as if daring you to finish what youâd started last week.
You froze. The world narrowed to the hollow of his throat, to the heat rolling off his body beneath you, to the fact that he wasnât pushing you away. He was waiting.
Your heart lurched, fury colliding with confusion. You ripped your hands off him and stumbled up, standing over him. âWhat the fuck are you doing?â you demanded, voice sharp, trembling.
Toby stayed on the floor, chest rising and falling, throat still exposed. Slowly, his familiar grin returnedâthin, crooked, unsettling. But he didnât answer. He just chuckled under his breath. It wasnât steady. It cracked halfway out, like he couldnât quite hold it together.
âGo on,â he rasped, voice roughened by the fightâand maybe something else. âDo it a-again. Thought y-you liked shutting m-me up.â
Your stomach flipped. Heat curled low in your spine, but rage fought its way back to the surface, blinding the confusion you felt. âYouâve been fucking with me all night,â you hissed. âCutting me off, tripping me, stealing every kill. And thisââ your eyes hovered over his throat, his pulse hammering beneath skin still faintly stained with last weekâs bruises ââthis is what you wanted, isnât it?â
His grin faltered, but his eyes never left yours. Nervous. Hungry.
You almost laughed, disbelief bubbling sharp in your chest. âJesus Christ,â you muttered. âYouâve been trying to piss me off so Iâd choke you again?â
The silence was answer enough. His jaw worked, his breath shallow, silently chasing the contact he wasnât brave enough to ask for.
Something ugly and electric knotted in your chest.
âYouâre fucking sick,â you spat, standing to put space between you. âAll thisâwhatâjust to get your little fix? Youâre pathetic.â
He sat up slowly, tearing at the strap of his muzzle and shoving the piece off his faceâthe metal clattering against the cold floor, and finally let out a low laughâbroken, ragged. âMaybe. But you w-were gonna do it, werenât y-you?â
You turned away, disgust coiling hot in your chest, but Tobyâs voice followedâlow and sharp, like a knife slipped between ribs. âGuess I w-was right. You only e-e-ever look good wh-when youâre on top o-of me.â
That was it.
You spun, fury surging bright and blinding, and launched yourself at him. You couldnât care anymore if this was some perverted goade, he would get what he asked for now. He hit the floor hard, head bouncing off concrete with a dull thump, and before he could so much as blink, your hand was clamped around his throat.
âOh, this is what you wanted, isnât it?â you snarled, leaning close, your words dripping venom. There wasnât a muzzle to block you anymore, so your noses were practically inches from each other. âPoor little Toby, canât get off unless heâs gasping like a fish. Pathetic.â
His grin widened even as your grip tightened, lips split and cracking, teeth flashing. His laugh jerked and stuttered, turning to wheezes under your palm, but he didnât fight you off. Not this time. Instead, his hands slid down, fumbling and quick, finding your thighs where you straddled his abdomen. He gripped tight, fingers digging into your pants hard enough to bruise, like he was holding onto an anchor while you cut the air out of him.
You squeezed harder, your mockery coming in ragged bursts. âWhat, you like this? Huh? You want everyone to see those bruises againâso theyâll know exactly what I did to you?â
His laugh dissolved into a groan, his eyes glassy, unfocused, lips parted on shallow, rattling gasps. And thenâhis hips jerked up against you. Once. Twice. You lurched forward with the movement, your full weight pressing down onto his throat as his body bucked beneath yours, desperate, uncontrolled. Your palm bore down harder, your thighs pinning him in place, and his grip on you tightened until it hurt.
It was obscene. Violent. Maddening.
Your grip faltered when his hands crept higher on your thighs, rough palms sliding toward dangerous ground. You ripped your hand from his throat, throwing your weight back to keep yourself steady before you toppled forward.
The second you let go, Tobyâs laugh cracked open, wild and desperate, spilling into something frantic. He shot upright against your weight, grabbing for your wrists, his voice ragged with need.
âNoâdonât fu-fucking s-s-stopââ His words broke into a choked rasp as his chest heaved. âDo i-it againâp-pl-pleaseââ
You shoved him down hard, eyes blazing. âYouâre insaneâ!â
âYeah?â he spat, his voice catching, body twisting under yours. âThen fucking b-be insane with me, h-huh? Donât just s-sit there acting li-like you donât get o-off on t-this shit too!â
Your rage spiked, white-hot. âAre you serious right now? I nearly killed you last time, and this is what you want?â
âYes!â His shout tore from his throat, cracking halfway through, echoing off the warehouse walls. âYes, fuckâgoddamn i-it, you donât g-get itâI need it!â
The words hit like a brick to the chest, and you froze just long enough for him to ramble on, his voice rising, frantic, like the dam had burst and he couldnât stop even if he wanted to. He was panting for Godâs sake.
âE-Ever since that nightâwhen you h-had your hands on meââ His eyes flashed wild, glassy with something more than anger. âI-I couldnât fucking s-stop thinking about it. Iâd lay th-there staring at t-the bruisesâevery g-go-goddamn nightâtouching mm-myself to the thought of you choking me out, and it w-was the only thing that workedââ
You reeled back, disgust curling sharp in your gut. âYouâre disgusting.â
He grinnedâbroken, shameful, desperate. âYeah. Y-Yeah, I know. But when t-they fadedâwhen the bruises were goneââ His voice cracked again, lower now, almost pleading. âI couldnât finish an-anymore. Nothing worked. Iâve been going o-out of my fucking m-mi-mindââ
Your pulse thundered in your ears. âSo you pulled this stunt tonight? Just to piss me off enough to do it again?â
âYes! Jesus fuck! Yes!â he barked, eyes blazing with a feverish light. âI had to! I donât c-care if you hate m-me, I donât care if you th-think Iâm pathetic, I justâfuckââ His hands clawed at his own throat now, red scratches blooming under his nails. âI need y-your hands here. No o-one elseâs. Yours.â
You stared down at him, chest heaving, every nerve screaming between fury, disbelief, and something darker curling beneath. âYouâre seriously telling me youâve been choking your dick every night to the thought of me almost killing you?â
His grin faltered, teeth bared like he was half-laughing, half-breaking apart. âI wanted i-it. I still want it. I-I need you to finish me off, or Iâm go-gonna lose my fucking mind.â
The words hung between youâhot, filthy, and raw. And for the first time since youâd known him, Toby wasnât hiding behind his immaturity or his smirk. He was laid bare, trembling under you, begging with every cracked word.
âI hate you, Toby.â Your breath hissed out between your teeth, sharp and electric, as you slammed your hand back around his throat. His body jolted like youâd lit a match to it.
Tobyâs moan tore out of him, shameless and guttural, the sound vibrating against your palm. His eyes rolled halfway back, lids fluttering, and he arched up into your grip like a starving man finally fed. âFuckâyesââ His voice rasped high and broken, and the sheer relief in it made your stomach twist. âDonât stopâdonât stopââ
You leaned down, sneering inches from his flushed face. âLook at you. Pathetic little freak. Canât even look at me without getting hard.â
His laugh cracked, feral, desperate, his mouth curling wide even as his breath stuttered in ragged gasps under your pressure. He coughed once, then sneered closer into your grip, gritting his teeth. âSay it a-againâfuckâsay itââ
âPathetic,â you hissed, tightening your grip, your thumb pressing against the thick veins running up his throat. âSick little bitch.â
His hips bucked up violently, knocking you forward again, and this time he didnât hold back. His hands shot past your thighs, fumbling frantically at his belt behind you. The buckle clattered against the concrete, his jeans yanked open with a clumsy desperation that made your blood thrum. You couldnât see, but you could hear the moment Tobyâs hand shot into his boxers and began jerking his cock wildly, moaning through labored chokes.
âJesus Christ,â you spat, half a laugh, half a curse. âYouâre actually jerking yourself while I choke you?â
âNotâj-jerking,â he wheezed, his grin splitting wider even as his face flushed red under your grip. âJustâgetting readyââ His laugh broke into a cough, then another moan. âFuckâI donât care i-if you hate me, just k-keep squeezingââ
Your stomach knotted, fury clashing with something darker as you pressed down harder, feeling the frantic pulse hammer beneath your hand. You should have pulled away. Shouldâve shoved him off and ended this disgusting display. But the way his voice cracked when you snapped at him, the way his body writhed beneath yours, hands trembling as he shoved his jeans lowerâit sparked something hot and unsettling in your chest.
âI canât stand you,â you breathed, voice low, sharp, and shaking with something you didnât want to name. âYouâre nothing without me.â
His moan bled into a laugh, high and frantic. âI k-know. I fucking know. Thatâs w-why I need you.â And god help youâyour lips curled, the power surging through you like fire. You were enjoying it, too.
Your palm pressed harder against his throat, pinning him flat, your thighs tight against his ribs. Tobyâs grin broke into something wrecked, lips trembling as his groans spilled shamelessly between shallow gasps.
âThatâs it,â you hissed, leaning close, breath hot against his ear. âChoke on it. Thatâs all youâre good for.â
His hips jerked up violently, jeans shoved halfway down his thighs now, his cock straining free into the cool air. His hand wrapped tight around the base, already slick, already trembling. You could hear the sound of skin-on-skin, his fist moving insanely fast and brutal.
âF-Fuckâyesââ he choked, voice torn to ribbons under your grip. âKeep talkingâdonât s-stopâpleaseââ
You sneered, pressing your weight down harder, and he let out a strangled cry that almost tipped into a sob. âLook at yourself,â you spat, mocking, eyes blazing as you looked back to see him rut up into his own fist like a man possessed. âWheezing like a dying dog. Youâre disgusting.â
âUhâhnnâf-fuckâyeah,â he rasped, grin stretching bloody and wild. âSay it a-againâcall me thatââ
âDisgusting. Pathetic. Useless little freak.â
His eyes rolled, breath rattling, hips pumping faster. You heard his boots scuff and slip on the ground below, kicking dust with every jerk of his body. His free hand clawed at your thigh, nails biting hard into your skin, grounding himself in your weight, in your hold on his throat.
âHarder,â he begged, voice splintering, a desperate whine breaking loose. âPleaseâplease, donât let g-goâdonât stopâfuck, Iâm so c-closeââ
And God help youâyou squeezed tighter. You felt the pulse stuttering beneath your palm, his throat straining, his moans breaking into guttural wheezes as his body arched up beneath yours.
âYou need me for this,â you hissed, lips curling in something that was no longer just anger. âYou canât even come without me choking the life out of you. Need me to make your little dick come.â
His hand blurred on his cock, hips bucking helplessly now, eyes glassy and unfocused as drool slicked the corner of his mouth. âY-yesmmnâfuck, yehmmnâneed youâneed your handâdonât let goâhnnâhahââ
And then he broke.
His whole body jolted beneath you, a strangled moan tearing from his throat as his hips bucked up hard. Hot release spilled across his abdomen and into his fist as he writhed, every vein straining under your hand while you squeezed him through it. His cock twitched violently in his grasp, his moans pitching higher, wetter, delirious. âFuckfuckfuckâyesââ he gasped, trembling, his grip on your thigh bruising as he rode the high, every thrust messy, erratic, desperate.
You held firm until he sagged under you, chest heaving, throat raw and flushed purple where your hand pressed. Only then did you release him, wiping your palm against your jeans with a sharp sneer. âFucking hell,â you muttered again, though your heart was hammering just as hard as his.
Toby lay there, grinning up at you with glassy, wrecked eyes, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. He coughed once, rough and raw, then laughedâa cracked, unhinged sound. âWorth it.â
The warehouse smelled like iron and smoke, the floor sticky with blood, bodies slumped where they fell scattered throughout the halls. Normally youâd have cleanedâburned the place down or dragged the corpses to the woods. That was protocol.
But not tonight.
You shoved yourself off Tobyâs chest, breath ragged, disgust curling sharp and hot in your gut. You wiped your palm against your pants until the skin burned, as if you could scrub off the memory of his throat thrumming beneath your grip, the moans spilling out of him, the mess he made of himself under you.
âFuck,â you spat, turning on your heel. âFuck this.â
Toby scrambled upright behind you, fumbling with his belt buckle, tugging his jeans back up with clumsy, shaking hands. His hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, his hoodie damp with it too.
âW-Waitâheyââ he stammered, voice still rough, strained. He grabbed his hatchet and muzzle from the floor and scurried after you, footsteps uneven on the concrete. âDonâtâdonât make i-it a thing, okay? Justâforget it h-ha-happened.â
âForget it?â you snapped, not slowing. âYouâre sick, Toby.â
He laughed nervously, breath catching on the sound. âYeah, wellâyou al-already knew that.â
You didnât answer. Couldnât. Your stomach twisted too tight, too hot, your chest buzzing with something you didnât want to settle on. You shoved through the broken door, the night air slapping cold against your damp skin, and started the trek back to the mansion. Behind you, Tobyâs boots scuffed the dirt, never too far, dogging your steps like a shadow.
âCâmon,â he tried again, voice softer this time, more nervous. âDonât g-go all weird on m-me. It doesnât have to mean an-anything.â
Your fists clenched at your sides. âShut up.â
Silence stretched between you after that, broken only by the crunch of leaves, the distant cry of some night creature in the woods. You didnât look back, not once. But no matter how far you tried to walk ahead, he stayed just behind youâclose enough to feel his presence crawling against your skin. Your chest heaved, every breath tight. Anger, shame, disgustâall of it roiled inside you, twisting lower until your stomach was burning, your thighs aching where his hands had dug into you.
Warm. You felt too warm. And you hated yourself for it.
By the time the mansion lights came into view through the trees, your jaw ached from clenching it so hard. Youâd marched fast, hard, like if you moved quick enough, you could outrun the heat coiling in your gut, the way your pulse jumped at the memory of Tobyâs voice breaking under your hand, at his eyes watering so easily.
But when you reached the porch steps, he was still there. Still trailing you. And no matter how you tried to bury itâyour body still hummed with the echo of his moans.
âJ-Just donât say anything to t-themââ
âShut up, Toby.â
The mansionâs door creaked open, hinges groaning into the quiet of the hour. You stepped in first, blood dried on your clothes, boots heavy with dust. The air inside smelled faintly of woodsmoke and old leather, warmth clinging to the walls after the chill of the forest outside.
Masky looked up from the couch where he sat sipping from a steaming mug. Hoodie was leaning against the wall nearby, arms crossed, while Kate perched on the armrest, picking at her fingers.
Three sets of eyes landed on you and Toby at once.
You kept yours on the floor, brushing past with a muttered, âItâs done.â Your voice was flat, clipped, nothing like the normal back-and-forth bickering they were used to hearing spill through the door after missions. Toby hovered behind you, shifting from foot to foot. His hatchet dangled loose at his side, his hoodie wrinkled, belt crooked like heâd thrown it back together in a rush. His mouth opened once, twice, but no words came.
Maskyâs eyes narrowed. Hoodie straightened. Kate blew a huff of air through her nose, brows furrowing as her gaze bounced between you both. You didnât wait for questions. You strode past them, your chest tight, your pulse hammering, Tobyâs nervous fidgeting prickling against the back of your skull like static. Your boots echoed faint up the stairs, and when you reached your room, you shut the door hard enough to rattle the frame.
Finallyâsilence.
You pressed your back against the wood, chest rising and falling, staring blankly into the shadows of your room. Your knees felt weak, like the fight had dragged out hours longer than it really had.
âWhat the fuck,â you whispered into the stillness. Your mind replayed it whether you wanted it to or not: his face slack with need, his body bucking beneath you, his voice breaking when you called him pathetic. The sound of him moaning your name. The way heâd begged you not to let go.
Your pulse jumped hard, traitorous, and you wrapped your arms around yourself as though that could cage it. How? How had this boyâthe one who needled you, cursed you, fought you at every cornerâmade your stomach twist and your core ache with just his wrecked voice and shameless grin?
You growled under your breath, shoving off the door, moving on autopilot. Stripping out of bloodied clothes. Cleaning the grime from your skin in the dim light of the bathroom mirror. Your reflection looked wrongâflushed, unsettled, eyes too wide.
You tried to ignore it.
Back in your room, you tugged a shirt over your head and crawled beneath the covers, pulling them tight around yourself. The sheets were cool against your skin, the house humming faint and low in the background. You shut your eyes, forcing yourself to think of anything else.
But your mind betrayed you.
Every blink brought back Tobyâthe heat of him, the frantic way heâd clawed at your thighs, the rasp of his moans under your palm. You could almost feel his throat again, the thrum of his pulse weakening against your grip, the desperate way heâd pushed into your hand as if he couldnât live without it. The way he insisted only you could do this for himâonly you.
Your breath caught. Your thighs pressed together beneath the sheets. âGoddamn it,â you muttered, low, ashamed.
But your hands moved anyway. Sliding down, curling over your stomach, lower, until your fingers pressed against the ache that had been building since you walked away from him on that filthy warehouse floor.
Tobyâs voice played in your head, raw and brokenâHarder. Please. Donât stop.
The sheets were stifling, heat curling in every inch of your body, but you burrowed deeper under them anyway, cocooning yourself as if that could keep the shame in. Your breath was uneven, pulse climbing higher the longer you tried to resist. Your hand slipped lower, into the waistband of your shorts, finding the slick heat between your thighs. You were already wet, embarrassingly so, and the realization made your stomach flip.
âFuckâŚâ you hissed under your breath.
But your fingers moved anyway. Slow at first, just circling, teasing, trying to convince yourself you werenât really doing this. Except the moment you closed your eyes, you saw him againâTobyâs head tilted back, throat bare to you, his lips parted in a desperate grin as you squeezed down harder.
The memory made your hips twitch, your hand quicken. Your breathing grew rougher, sharper, filling the stillness of your room. The friction wasnât enoughâyou needed more. You slid two fingers against your entrance, pressing inside and gasping at the sudden stretch, your body clenching tight.
And your mind betrayed you again.
You imagined it was his hands, not yoursârough, calloused palms pushing inside, desperate and greedy. You imagined the way heâd been bucking against you, hips jerking, like he was trying to fuck the air just to get relief. What if you had fucked him then? Would it have been as fast and desperate as his fist was?
A whimper slipped out of you before you could stop it. Your free hand clutched the sheets by your head, knuckles whitening as your pace picked up. Each press, each thrust of your fingers had your body curling tighter, chasing something you didnât want to admit you wanted. Your thighs trembled. Sweat dampened your temples.
And then Tobyâs voice flooded your skull, unbidden: Harder. Please. Donât stop. I need you.
Your body jerked. A moan tore from your throat. You slammed your fingers deeper, grinding your palm against your clit until the ache sharpened into something blinding. Your orgasm ripped through you like fire, your body arching off the bed, breath caught, the sound of his pleading still ringing in your ears.
You stayed there, quivering, your hand still buried between your thighs as the aftershocks trembled through you. The sheets were tangled, your skin slick with sweat, your chest heaving. And when your mind finally cleared, disgust hit you like a wave.
You ripped your hand away, burying your face into the pillow, your body still thrumming with unwanted pleasure.
âWhat the fuck is wrong with me,â you whispered to the dark, voice breaking. But no matter how tightly you curled into yourself, no matter how hard you tried to will it away, the memory of his moans and the feel of his throat under your palm stayed burned into you.
âI hate that boy.â
ââ .âŚ
The mansion was never quiet, not really. Floorboards creaked, the woods whispered, doors groaned when opened. But between you and Toby? Silence had become the loudest thing of all.
You ignored him. Flat-out, stone-faced ignored him.
When he leaned against the doorway of the training room, flicking his pocket knife open and shut, waiting for you to snap? You kept punching the heavy weight bag, not giving him so much as a glance.
When he dropped some smartass remark during meals, fishing for the rise he always used to get? You chewed slowly, eyes fixed on your plate, not even flinching.
When he âaccidentallyâ bumped your shoulder in the hall? You walked on, didnât miss a beat.
It drove him madâyou could see it in the twitch of his jaw, the way his tics flared sharper, faster when you didnât bite back. But it drove you mad too, in a way you didnât want to admit.
Because the bruises were back.Â
Dark, blooming fingerprints circling his throat like a necklace only you couldâve left. They were darker than last time, more intense. They peeked from under his collar when he tilted his head back, caught the light when he twisted just so. And every time you saw them, your stomach clenched.
You couldnât help imagining him again, in that messy sprawl on the warehouse floorâeyes glazed, lips split, gasping for air under your hand. The memory tangled with the fact you knew he was jerking off to it every night, chasing that high youâd given him like some addict.
And then came the shame.
Shame because youâd done the same. Shame because your own fingers had dug into yourself with his voice in your ears, his body pressed against yours in your mind. Shame because it made you warm now, just thinking about it in broad daylight. You hated yourself for it.
The others noticed.
Masky groaned and rolled his eyes whenever the silence stretched too long in the room, muttering about âfinally shutting the both of you up.â Hoodie, quiet as ever, glanced between you two with something unreadable in his gaze, like he was tracking pieces to a puzzle he didnât want to put together. And Kate? She smirked. She didnât say anythingâyetâbut her eyes lit up with amusement every time Toby walked in, bruises stark and ugly, your gaze flickering before you could stop it.
The mansion wasnât built for subtlety. Everyone could feel the tension brewing.
And Toby? Toby basked in it. Even when you ignored him, even when your face burned with shame, you could see it in the edge of his grin, in the way he let his collar hang just a little lower. He liked that you saw the bruises. He wanted you thinking about them. Thinking about him.
ââ .âŚ
The porch was cold, even with the smoke curling warm in your lungs. You leaned against the railing, staring into the stretch of black trees. The woods whispered with wind and crickets, an endless, empty hum that shouldâve eased your head but didnât.
You were halfway through your cigarette when the door creaked behind you. You didnât have to look to know who it was. His uneven footsteps, the scrape of his hoodie against the doorframeâToby.
You stiffened immediately, flicking ash into the night, already crushing the half-finished cigarette against the rail. The second he stepped outside, you pushed off the porch, muttering, âNope.â But before you could make it to the door, his hand shot out and grabbed your arm.
You spun on instinct, your fist colliding with his chest, hard enough that it wouldâve left anyone else wincing. He didnât even flinch. His head just tilted, eyes flicking from your hand to your face.
âYou probably liked that too, didnât you?â you spat, ripping your arm from his grip. âBet youâll jerk off to that later too.â
For a moment, the corner of his mouth curled up into a grin like he was about to shoot something smart back. But then it faltered. He swallowed, shifting his weight. âYou canât k-keep being mad at m-me,â he said, quieter than you expected.
You barked a laugh, sharp and humorless. âOh, thatâs rich. Whatâs thisâgaslighting me now? Pretending I imagined all your bullshit? You baited me into it, Toby. You made meââ
âIâm not saying th-that.â His voice cut through, sharper this time. He stepped closer, shoulders tense, hands fidgeting. âIâm saying⌠you d-did it too. You wanted it. D-Donât dump all the blame o-on me like Iâm the only fucked up o-o-one here.â
You blinked at him, the words burning hotter than the smoke simmering in your lungs. The laugh that came out of you was dry, ugly. âWow. Thatâs your angle? Turn it around on me so you donât feel like a creep?â
He shook his head quickly, stammering, âNo. Thatâs notâfuckââ He scrubbed a hand through his messy curls, his tics pulling his shoulders tight. Then his voice dropped, raw and stripped. âI just⌠I hate i-it when youâre quiet.â
That stopped you.
His eyes flicked up to yours, no grin this time, no mask. Just something bare. âI can handle y-you being pissed at me. You c-can scream, throw punches, call me every name in the bookâI don-donât care. Iâll give it right back. Thatâs what we do.â He took a step closer, the porch creaking under his boots. âBut this? Y-You ignoring me? Acting like I donât exist? Thatâs wo-worse than any fight weâve ever h-had.â
You swallowed hard, your pulse suddenly pounding in your ears.
âYou always bounce b-back,â he went on, voice rough with an edge of desperation. âNo matter h-how ugly it gets, you always come back a-at me w-with something. And now youâre justâgone. Silent. And it fe-feels like Iâm fucking⌠nothing t-to you. And I canât stand that.â
The words hung between you, heavy as the smoke drifting in the night air. You clenched your fists, struggling to breathe steady. Your chest felt too tight. His words were still in your ears, rattling around, refusing to leave. You dragged a hand through your hair, then crossed your arms hard, locking yourself in. Your gaze flicked downâjust for a heartbeatâto his throat, where the bruises were stark against pale skin, then to his hands fidgeting at his sides. A sigh slipped out before you could swallow it down.
âGod, youâre annoying,â you bit out, venom dripping. âYou stand here begging for scraps of my attention like some whipped fucking dog.â
Tobyâs lips twitched, but he didnât fight back. He just nodded once, sharp, almost eager. âY-Yeah. I am.â
You blinked at him, taken aback. Then the anger surged hotter. Even still, even as you tried to push him away, he was still enjoying it.
âYou donât even try to deny it? Thatâs how low you are? Thatâs how little self-respect you have?â
âMmhm.â Another nod. His boots creaked closer against the porch boards.
Your arms tightened across your chest. âYouâre disgusting, Toby. You make me sick.â
âYeah.â Another step closer. His grin was small now, faint, but his eyes were locked on you like he was drinking it all in. Your nails bit crescents into your arms. You shouldâve walked awayâyou knew you shouldâve walked awayâbut the way he was letting you tear into him only made your pulse race faster.
âSay it,â you snapped, stepping forward yourself. âSay youâre a fucking disgusting waste of space.â
âIâm di-disgusting,â he echoed, nodding. âWaste of space. All o-of it. Go on.â He was right there now, only inches away, and still coming closer.
âYouâre nothing,â you spat, your voice trembling with how hard you forced the words out. âI hate you.â
He nodded again, eyes bright, voice low. âThen hate me.â
And then he leaned forward. Not quick, not sharpâslow, steady, like he was giving you all the time in the world to stop him. His breath brushed your lips, his bruised throat bare and tempting, his whole body a dare.
Something snapped in you. Your hand shot up and clamped over his mouth. Hard.
âDonât you fucking dare,â you growled, glaring into his eyes.
For a heartbeat, the night was silent, only your ragged breathing between you. His lips moved against your palm, hot breath searing your skin, but he didnât try to pull away. He just looked at you, wide-eyed and unblinking, as if youâd given him exactly what he wanted.
Then his arms came up.
Before you could react, he wrapped them around you, hauling you flush against him. Your body collided with his, hard enough to knock the breath out of your lungs, and thatâs when you felt itâhis bulge thick and insistent against your hip.
Your heart jumped. You recoiled, but he only crushed you tighter, his muffled voice spilling hot against your palm. âCanâtâfuckâcanât help i-it,â he mumbled under your hand, words slurring but frantic. His eyes were wild, pleading and burning all at once. âYou donât understand how good i-it sounds. The way you talk to meâhow mean you a-areââ
âShut the fuck up,â you snapped, pressing harder against his mouth, like you could shove the words back down his throat. And thenâwarm, wet, obsceneâhis tongue dragged across your palm. You jerked your hand back instantly, grimacing. âMotherfuckerââ
The slap cracked sharp across his face before you even thought about it, your palm stinging from the impact. He didnât even blink, face jerking to the side for only a moment. His laugh tore out, jagged and breathless, like it was the best gift youâd ever given him. âMore,â he goaded, his voice breaking with a tic as his grin split wide. âCâmonâhit me againââ
Something boiled inside you. Rage. Heat. Hunger. You couldnât name it, couldnât separate it. You fisted his collar instead, yanking him down hard enough his head snapped forward. Your lips crashed into his in a violent, messy collisionâmore teeth than anything else, half-kiss, half-bite.
He made a noise deep in his chest, caught between a moan and a growl, and bit back. Your teeth scraped his lip, tearing it raw, copper flooding between your tongues as you devoured each other like a fight you couldnât win. It wasnât soft. It wasnât kind. It was violent, greedy, your mouths clashing, biting, swallowing each otherâs breath until you were dizzy. His hands gripped your waist, bruising, desperate, dragging you closer still.
The porch boards creaked under your stumbling steps as you shoved him back, and he only laughed against your mouth, teeth clacking yours, his breath ragged and burning hot as he kissed you like you were both still trying to draw blood.
Your teeth clashed again, the taste of copper thick on your tongue, and Toby groaned like it was ecstasy. His hands roamed rough, not searching but takingâfingers digging into your hips hard enough you swore heâd leave bruises through your clothes. You shoved at his chest, trying to push him back, but he turned you violently, pinning you against the porch railing. The wood bit into your spine. His mouth crashed against yours, sloppy and biting, like he was trying to consume you whole.
âFuckingââ you gasped between kisses, your nails clawing into his shoulders. âI hate you.â
âF-Fuck yeah you do,â he growled, teeth dragging along your jaw before sinking in just hard enough to sting. His hips ground forward, rough, shameless. His bulge pressed against your hip so hard you could feel every inch. âShow me just h-how much, baby.â
Your laugh broke into a moan, guttural and unwilling, as he rocked against you. That only pissed you off more. You tangled a hand in his curls and yanked his head back hard, exposing his throat. âPathetic little pervert,â you spat, glaring at the bruises youâd already put there. Your free hand wrapped around his throat again, squeezing until his breath stuttered, and his eyes rolled for just a second.
He moaned just as loud and whiny as he had the other night. The sound made heat coil tight in your stomach. You pressed harder, relishing the way his pulse hammered under your fingers. He choked out a laugh, lips swollen and red, trying to lunge forward againâbut you held him just out of reach.
âSay it,â you hissed. âSay youâre nothing. Say youâre mine to break.â
His grin split wide, voice raw and ragged as he rasped, âIâm nothing. IâmâfuckâIâm y-yours to break.â
That was all it took for you to slam your mouth back onto his, devouring him. Your bodies ground together in a messy, furious rhythm, every movement as much a fight as it was a touch.
Tobyâs hand slid down, gripping the back of your thigh, hauling your leg up around his hip. You gasped into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound greedily, bucking into you. Your nails raked down his chest, and he shuddered, growling against your lips. He bit at your bottom one hard enough to make you taste blood again.
The porch creaked, your breath echoed, and for a moment, the whole world was just this: violent mouths, grasping hands, and the line between hate and want blurring until there was no difference. You tried to shove him off, but he anchored himself against you with his handsâone gripping your waist, the other sliding lower, hot and slick, brushing over the waistband of your shorts.
You stiffened immediately, pressing back, but he didnât stop. He shoved his hand down past the hem, his warm palm pressing flat against your fluttering cunt. You hissed, digging your nails into his shoulders. The pad of his thumb traced along your slick folds, the subtle heat radiating from your body under his touch making him groan low and uneven.
âRightâso defensive, but youâre soakedââ he panted against your jaw, dragging his fingers through your slick and probing against your entrance. You wanted to curse him, but your hips were too busy chasing after his hand, mind too muddled with want. âY-Youâre not very good a-at playing pretend.â
And thenâcareful, deliberateâhe slipped a finger inside. The movement was slow at first, testing, curling just enough to brush the spot that made you gasp, hips bucking despite your effort to stay rigid. Your breath hitched, caught in your throat as your hands clamped over his shoulders, nails digging in hard, and yet your stomach tensed, core aching in unwanted, feral need.
âGoddamn it, Tobyâget the fuckââ you tried to snap, but the words came out a whimper as his fingers moved in perfect rhythm with the heat coiling between your legs.
âCanât stop,â he rasped, teeth grazing your jaw. âYour handsâyour wordsâf-fucking kill me. I canât help it.â
You clawed at him, nails digging into skin. He moved another finger in, slick and warm, curling expertly, pressing, rubbing, and suddenly the fire coiling low in your belly blazed out. You arched up, fighting, hissing at him through your teeth, but the sound only seemed to make him smirk against your jaw.
âYou piss me off,â you spat, pressing back harder, rocking your hips against his hand in a mix of resistance and desperate need. Every nerve in your body screamed, every pulse of blood seemed to thrum straight down into the ache he was cultivating with each careful, greedy curl of his thick fingers. âYouâre so fucking gross.â
âYeah,â he moaned, the word rattling through him. âGonna make you cum. I h-have to. Ne-Need to.â The soundâraw, desperate, unashamedâmade arousal coil tighter in your belly. Your free hand tangled in his hair, yanking his face to yours again. Teeth clashed, lips smacked, and he grunted as you bit him, tasting yourself on him, smelling the deep earthy tones of him.
He bucked into you, nails digging into your hip, sliding his fingers faster, curling them deep, teasing you, testing you, making you gasp and growl your frustration into the night air. You tried to glare, tried to snap insults, but your body betrayed you, trembling, hips pressing against him, sliding back onto his fingers despite the growl of anger and disgust still catching in your throat.
âTold you,â he rasped, voice ragged, âI l-like it better when youâre pissy.â
You hit him on the chest, hard enough to make him grunt, and he chuckled, throat choked and vibrating under your hand. The contrastâhis rough, hungry laugh and the slick heat of him inside youâsent fire lashing in your veins, spreading down and low, making your nails dig deeper, your chest rise faster, your body tremble like you were breaking apart. You tried to pull away, tried to scream insults, tried to shove him off, but every movement only made him grip harder, curling fingers deeper, his thumb rubbing against your clit as he held you flush against him.
âFuckâTobyâŚâ you gasped, teeth clenching, nails digging into the fabric of his hoodie as heat roared through your body. His hand moved faster, rolling you expertly against him, pressing and curling until every nerve in your belly lit up. You clenched, tight, shivering, and suddenly the wave hitâsharp, overwhelming, and completely consuming. Your body quaked as your orgasm ripped through you, muffled gasps caught in your throat. Toby didnât falter; instead, he held you steady, rolling you just enough to ride it out, keeping you flush against him, your arousal spilling all over his palm.
Your chest heaved, and you grabbed his jaw with both hands, pulling him down roughly into a kiss that was desperate and messy. His mouth moved against yours, hot and slick, teeth nipping as tongues tangled, groans muffled and raw. And then, just slightly, the feral edge simmered into something slower, almost tiredâyour bodies still flush, hearts hammering, lips pressed together as you clung to him, fingers gripping his shoulders and chest. Your legs threaded around him, your nails dragging along his back, and you shivered against the warmth of him, still trembling from release and the cold air outside.
Finally, he pulled his fingers out, slick and glistening, and tilted his head back just slightly. His eyes locked onto yours, dark in the dim porch light, and he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking and sucking them clean with a low hum that made your heart stutter.
âFuck,â you panted.
You donât let him think. You take his wrist like itâs a leash and pull, hard, the way you used to when dragging him out of some stupid accidentâonly this time your grip is charged, hungry. Toby stumbles after you, mouth parted, eyes bright and unsteady, like heâs both surprised and exactly where he wants to be. He tries to say somethingâstammer a protest, some jagged jokeâbut you yank him faster and his words die in the cut of your stride. You pull him through the mansionâs doors and into the warmth of the house, dragging him up the stairs like a toy.
Upstairs creaks under your boots; the house is quiet but for the ragged sound of his breathing close behind. When you shove the door to your room shut, it slams. The sound is satisfying, final. You press back against it, feel the cheap paint bite into your back through your clothes, and the world narrows until itâs only you and him and the hungry strain between your bodies pressed tight.
He drops to his knees without being told. You havenât even made a sound and heâs already obeyingâfast, focused, hands fumbling as he works the waistband of your shorts. He tugs them down slow, reverent, as though heâs unwrapping something sacred and volatile. The fabric slips over your hips and slides to your knees, and you can feel the cool air lick at your skin. Tobyâs head dips, lips brushing the inside of your thigh first like itâs a courtesy, then moving with increasing boldness.
Youâre in control. You know it. You feel it in the slick press of your bodies, the steady drum of your pulse at the back of your throat. You lean forward, hands braced on his shoulders, and you start to talk down to him.
âLook at you,â you say, each word deliberate. Youâre quieter now inside, trying your best not to disturb Masky and Hoodie only a few doors down. âOn your knees for me. So ready.â Your fingers rake through his hair, rough enough that he gasps, chin lifting to give you access. He nods, desperate and grateful, eyes glossy. The motion is small, but itâs permission, and it makes something molten shift deeper inside you.
Tobyâs face is close, warmth and breath and that wild laugh caught somewhere between fear and worship. Heâs tremblingâhands shaking as they find your hips, thumbs stroking, mapping, sliding up and under your shirt. He lifts his mouth and your name slips off his lips like a prayer. The sound is intoxicating. Heâs pathetic on purpose: he knows thatâs exactly what you want to see, and he gives it fully.
âYou like the way you look when you beg?â you murmur, leaning down to press your forehead to his. âLike how it feels?.â
He swallows. His voice is a thin thing when it comes. âIâplease. I likeâhnngh, I like w-when youââ He breaks, breath hitching. âI like when you make meâwhen y-you choke meâwhen you sa-say those things.â His fingers curl into your hips like anchors, digging into your flesh.
You grin, and itâs all teeth. You like that he admits it. You like that heâs helpless to stop himself from wanting more, and you take your time making that want work for you. Hell, he couldnât even cum without your help a week ago. One hand slides down his scalp, tilting his head, the other ghosts lower until the pad of your thumb brushes the tint in his jeans. He pants, a sharp, eager noise, and when you press that thumbâjust a teaseâhe moans and jerks, hips lifting on their own.
âGood boy,â you whisper, the title slipping out like a command. âWork for me.â
He obeys like he breathesâfast. His hands grip your thighs, pull you closer, and he uses his mouth this timeânot gentle, not careful, but greedy. When his lips close around your clit, and your back immediately hits the door, rattling the frame. Heâs competent; his mouth knows how to coax sounds from you, how to lap his tongue through your folds, how to curl it in the right place. He sucks, he sucks hard, and you can feel it all rolling through youâthe tug and the release, the heat pooling and then building again.
You press a palm flat to the crown of his head and drive him harder, encouraging, demanding, not letting him take the easy route. You want him raw, you want him ragged; you want him making up for every single ache heâs caused you. You lean your weight into him, hips rocking as his mouth works miracles, and you start to bark ordersâsoftly but stiff.
âFaster.â
âMhmnââ he hums, wrapping his hands behind your thighs, pulling you closer.
âKeep your eyes up, Toby.â
He answers by sinking his tongue into your cunt, forcing the muscle into the sticky sweet slick of your last arousal. His eyes flutter and roll, his nose pressing against your clit as he swallows every taste of you.
Heâs shameless now, hands slamming up your thighs, hauling you closer until the pads of his fingers dig into the soft of your waist. He crushes his face between your legs, breath hot and urgent, tongue darting, exploring. When his fingers slide from your leg to between them, worming their way to your entrance with his tongue, you clench, eyes rolling with the stretch. He moans against you, the sound vibrating right up into your pelvis, and the crude, honest worship of it makes heat flare up into your throat.
You keep talking, degrading in that perfect, stinging way that makes him whine harder, do more. Each insult you throw is an instruction, each barb a route to deeper compliance.
âYou want this,â you tell him, voice low and hard. âYou want to be thrown around. Admit it.â
He lifts his head, face flushed, lips slick. He meets your eyes and says it plain, breathy and broken, âI wa-want you to hate me. I want you to hit me and h-hurt me.â He nods, like a man confirming the one truth he lives for.
âYou donât evenâhahâeven feel pain.â
âLetâs play pretend.â
Thatâs all you need. You press him back with a casual force, pressing down on his shoulders and forcing him flat to the floor. His back hit the wood, hoodie riding up, and you didnât give him the chance to keep talking. You climbed over him, straddling his chest, knees planted on either side of his shoulders, the weight of you pinning him like prey.
âShut up,â you spat, leaning forward just enough that your shadow swallowed his face. âYou want to fuck me so bad? Youâre gonna fucking earn it.â
Tobyâs grin only widened. His hands went to your thighs automatically, not pushing, not resistingâjust holding, squeezing like he was anchoring himself to you. His eyes, those wild, fractured things, were locked on your cunt hovering above him. His mouth fell open on instinct, tongue flashing out in a shaky, eager swipe across his lips.
âFuckâlook at you,â you muttered, rolling your hips forward until you sat fully on his face. His nose pressed firm against your clit, his tongue sliding up and tasting you with a hunger that sent shocks all the way down your spine. âOn the floor, exactly where you belong.â
The sound he made against you was half-moan, half-chuckle, and the vibration shot straight through you. You fisted his messy curls, forcing his head back into the wood, rocking yourself harder against his mouth.
âOpen wider,â you ordered, voice sharp, breath catching. âYouâre gonna take every bit of me.â
He obeyed instantly, mouth parting, tongue flattening and dragging in long, desperate licks. He was sloppy, unashamed, drowning himself in you. Every time your hips rolled down, he groaned like he was savoring it, like heâd starve if you moved away. You ground against him harder, chasing the rhythm, riding his face with purpose. The slick sounds of his tongue working you filled the room, obscene and perfect. Tobyâs hands clamped tight on your thighs, pulling you down harder, like he wanted to suffocate under you.
âStupid weirdo,â you hissed between gasps, yanking his head tighter into your heat. âThis is what youâve been begging for, isnât it? My pussyâfuckâmy fucking hands on you.â
His answer was a muffled, ecstatic noise, hips bucking up from the floor uselessly. He couldnât speak, couldnât joke, couldnât bite back. He could only take itâyour weight, your rhythm, your degradation. He moaned into you again, and you felt the sound rip through your core.
You leaned back slightly, fingers twisted cruelly in his hair, your thighs trembling as his tongue curled just right, hitting that spot over and over. You threw your head back, breath breaking into ragged gasps, staring up at your ceiling just like you had a couple of nights agoâimagining how he would feel against you. It made your heart burn.
âGodâfuck, Tobyâdonât stop.â
He didnât. He couldnât. His mouth latched tighter, tongue flicking, sucking, devouring like it was oxygen. You rode him through it, thighs squeezing against his head, grinding down until the pleasure crested sharp and overwhelming.
When it hit again, it was violent. You clamped down around his tongue, body shuddering, a cry tearing itself from your throat as you came hard, grinding his face through the waves. Toby moaned with you, greedy for every second, every twitch, every slick pulse. The overstimulation was already building, your body growing so tried. You slumped forward on shaking thighs, chest heaving, still tugging his hair, forcing him to lap at you while aftershocks rolled through. Only when your muscles gave did you finally lift off, dragging your heat from his face and watching as he gasped for air, lips and chin wet, eyes glazed and wide.
You smirked down at him, breathless but still sharp. âLook at you. So pitiful.â
Toby laughedâhoarse, shaky, half-madâlicking his lips like he couldnât bear to waste a single taste. âDo it again,â he begged, voice raw. âPleaseâride m-me again.â
âNah.â
Your thighs trembled as you rose off of him, knees shaky, breath uneven. Tobyâs hands pawed uselessly at the floor, still reaching, still beggingâbut you ignored him. You staggered to your bed, hips heavy with the ache he left behind, and collapsed face-first onto the mattress. The sheets were cool against your burning skin, and you stretched out, lazy and languid, your feet still dangling over the edge, your back arching with the natural curl of exhaustion and satisfaction.
Behind you, you heard him scramble upâthe shuffle of knees, palms on the floor, the frantic sound of him scurrying like a dog chasing its master.
âStay.â The single command cracked through the quiet like a whip. He froze. âDonât you fucking move.â
You didnât need to see him to know he was obeyingâyou could feel the tension rolling off him, could almost taste the way he wanted to lunge forward, to drag his mouth back where it belonged. You felt his eyes bore between your legs, onto the mess he had created now cooling on your skin.
âP-PleaseâŚâ Tobyâs voice was a rasp, thick with need. âPlease, let meâlet m-me touch youââ
âI said no.âÂ
Your words were final, and they cut. You heard him groan, guttural, muffling it into his fist. A second later, the sound of teeth scraping against knuckles filled the airâhe was biting down hard just to keep himself quiet. You turned your head slightly, gaze dragging to where he stood, and what you saw made a laugh roll out of you, low and cruel.
Toby was doubled over, one hand fisting in his hoodie, the other clawing at the waistband of his jeans. The bulge strained hard and obscene against the denim, and he rocked into it like he could grind the ache away. He looked half feral, pupils blown, mouth wet, hair hanging in his face. Pathetic. Perfect.
âHurts, doesnât it?â you teased, voice lazy with amusement. You knew it didnât really hurt him, but he wanted to play pretend, didnât he? âCanât even move without thinking about me, huh?â
He groaned again, louder, his body jolting with the effort of restraint. His knuckles were slick with spit where his teeth dug in, and his free hand gripped his jeans like he could tear them open. You laughed again, sharper this time, and rolled onto your back. Your legs hung off the edge of the bed, feet brushing the floor, and you spread your knees wide, lazy and taunting. The motion was deliberateâan invitation, a cruelty, a display he couldnât resist. It didnât matter if he had already made you cum twice, you needed him to fuck you right now just to prove a point.
You were going to make this boy cum all by yourself. Not the idea of you, not his imaginationâyourself.
âGo on, Toby,â you murmured, voice dripping with control. âCome here.â
Toby nearly tripped over himself getting to you, stepping between your dangling legs like he belonged thereâlike he had been waiting his whole life for it.
You leaned up onto your elbows, reaching a hand out to the edge of his waistband. His breath hitched, chest rising and falling in jagged heaves as your fingers toyed with his belt, tugging it open with a cruel kind of patience. The metallic clink of the buckle rang loud in the quiet room, and Tobyâs hands twitched at his sides, useless, trembling, aching to reach for you.
âKeep them there,â you warned without looking up. âIf you touch me without permission, youâre done.â
He whimpered softlyâpathetic and desperateâand forced his arms straight at his sides, fingers flexing, curling into fists as though nailing himself to the spot.
You unzipped his jeans with a sharp tug, knuckles brushing the hard swell pressing against the fabric. Toby hissed through clenched teeth, head falling back, the veins in his throat standing out under the dim light. You smirked, tugging the thick fabric apart, and then slid your hand under his waistband, under the last barrier.
The heat of him hit you firstâfeverish and pulsing. You pulled him free, and your breath caught despite yourself.
Tobyâs cock was flushed, angry red, the skin tight and stretched, a bead of slick shining at the tip. His breath came out in a stutter when the cool air touched him, his thighs trembling under your gaze. He was thick in your hand, twitching, the veins standing out like cords beneath your grip. His pubic hair was just as messy and unkempt as the rest of his hair, running up in a smattered patch to his belly button, coaxing your eyes to the mouthwatering crease of his v-line.
You let go of him, rubbing that hand between your legs, wetting your hand with your own slick. Tobyâs teeth practically chattered as he thrummed, watching you.
And you didnât give him mercy. Not even a second. You dragged the same hand youâd just rubbed against your soaked core up his shaft, coating him in your slick before your fist wrapped around him fully. Toby nearly folded in half, a broken noise tearing from his throat as his knees buckled.
âFuckââ his voice cracked.
You stroked him hard. Fast. Cruel. Your hand pumped with purpose, each stroke wet, obscene, loud in the heavy silence. His cock twitched violently in your grip, swollen and desperate, precum smearing across your knuckles as you worked him like you were wringing every ounce of need out of his body.
Toby ripped his hoodie off like it was strangling him, yanking it over his head and tossing it blindly aside. His chest was pale, scarred in streaks that caught the dim light of your room, his stomach taut and flexing with every jerk of your hand. His hair clung wild to his forehead, his lips slick, swollen, parted in ragged gasps. He looked ruinedâan animal panting, feigning for you.
And fuck, you hated him. Youâd always hated him. Hated the way he laughed, the way he berated you, the way he made everything harder than it had to be. But nowâseeing him above you, trembling, literally begging for the mercy of your handâsomething deep and feral cracked open inside you.
You tightened your grip and stroked faster.
Tobyâs whole body jerked. His hands shot forward instinctively, clamping around your wrist, not to stop you, but to slow you down. His face was wrecked, eyes glassy and pleading, mouth falling open around broken words. âPleaseâplease slow d-downâfuck, Iââ He groaned, panting above you, chest heaving with every groan. âYouâreâyouâre gonna make meâfuckâtoo fastââ
Your grip went iron-tight for a moment, jerking him so hard his hips jolted forwardâthen you stopped. Let go.
Toby gasped, his body shuddering as the sudden loss ripped through him. His cock bobbed helplessly in the air between you, slick and flushed, veins throbbing as if the blood inside him had nowhere else to go. His chest heaved, mouth open, eyes wide with disbelief.
You stared up at him, pure venom in your gaze, lips curling into a cruel little smile. âWhat did I say, Toby?â
His gaze shot down to where his hand still gripped yours.
âI told you not to touch me,â you hissed, shaking off his hand like it disgusted you. âBut you couldnât help yourself, could you? Canât listen to anything.â
The mockery in your voice carved him open. He whined, stepping back an inch as if it physically stung, his cock twitching painfully in the air between you. Then, without warning, you sat up. Tobyâs eyes darted down, confused, hopeful, but then widened when your hands went to the hem of your shirt. You peeled it off in one slow, deliberate motion, baring yourself, and tossed it carelessly aside.
His breath stuttered. He looked like youâd punched him in the gut. You leaned forward again, close enough that your breath fanned against his chest, eyes locked on his ruined face. You didnât touch him. Not a single brush of your hand. You just sat back a little and watched. Watched as his hips twitched, as he tried to will himself not to reach for you again, as his cock leaked and throbbed helplessly, straining toward the heat of your body.
He writhed in it like it was killing him. His hands fisted at his sides so hard his knuckles cracked, his chest heaving with harsh, uneven gasps. His jaw clenched, a vein pulsing in his temple. The desperation turned sharp, ragged.
âF-Fuck you,â he spat, the words rough, guttural. âYouâyou fucking t-t-teaseâyou think youâreâgah-goddamn better than me?â
You tilted your head, smirking cruelly. âI donât have to think it.â
His huff came out half a snarl, half a whimper. He shifted on his feet, cock jerking violently, his whole body tight with the strain of keeping his hands off you.
âDonâtâdonât fucking d-do this,â he begged through gritted teeth, but even his curses broke into something needy. âGoddamn bitchâyou canâtâfuckâyou canât just stopââ
âOh, I can,â you murmured sweetly, leaning back on your elbows so your chest arched and his eyes dropped helplessly. âI told you not to touch me. You broke the rules. Now you get nothing.â
He actually growled, low in his throat, head dropping forward as he cursed again. His words were broken, a tangle of hatred and begging, teeth grinding as though if he didnât use them to form insults, heâd cry out something weaker. âFuck youâfuckâyouâre s-so goddamnââ He groaned, thighs trembling. âPlease, pleaseâIâm begging youâdonât l-leave me like thisâIâll d-do anythingâyou h-hear me?â
The sound of his voice like thatâshattered, strung out, caught between curses and pleasâshot straight through you. It stirred something low and hungry in your gut, made your skin prickle with heat. You smirked lazily, stretching your legs a little wider, making sure he saw everything. âYou hate me so much, Toby,â you taunted, voice low, sultry. âSo why are you begging me like a dog?â
He stared at you, jaw twitching with irritation. You tilted your head at him, lips curling into something cruel. His chest was heaving, his cock red and leaking, his fists trembling at his sides, and you knew he was about to break.
You dragged the knife in deeper.
âAww,â you cooed, sliding off the edge of the mattress and rolling over onto your stomach. You crawled forward a little, your hips swaying as you moved further up the bed. Tobyâs eyes followed every inch, wide and wild, his whole body shaking like an animal straining against its leash.
Then you stopped, sank down onto your elbows, your chest pressing to the sheets. You arched your back so hard it burned, your ass high in the air, cunt fluttering in time with your heartbeat. You glanced back at him over your shoulder, your voice low.
âThen come here, puppy.â
The word cracked him in half.
Toby didnât hesitate. He scrambled up onto the bed so fast it shook under his weight, knees digging into the mattress as his hands clamped down hard on your hips. His boots scuffed the sheets, twisting them under his knees as he pressed behind you. His grip was bruising, frantic, like he thought you might slip away if he didnât anchor you.Â
He slammed into you without hesitation, the force brutal and reckless. His cock drove deep, fast, urgent, and you gasped from the sharp, animalistic impact. He was panting, growling, releasing all the frustration, all the rage heâd been holding back, smashing into you like heâd intended on tearing you open.
âGodâfuck!â he hissed, voice ragged, teeth clenched. âYouâyouâve ruined meâstupidâfuckingââ
You gritted your teeth, holding the bedspread tight, letting him feel your every shiver and thrum, every gasp and muffled cry. You pressed back against him just enough to meet each brutal thrust, riding his anger as much as he rode you. His hands clenched your hips tighter, dragging you back onto him with each slam. His motions were messy, desperateâno care for rhythm, only a need to fuck, to bury himself inside you, to release everything pent up in the past week. The bed creaked and groaned under the weight of you both, sheets twisting, skin slapping against skin.
âYours?â you spat back, tone sharp and mocking. âYouâre the oneâhahâthe one begging to fuck m-meââ
That stoked something further in him. His thrusts became harder, faster, reckless, as though trying to drive every ounce of need into you and make you feel his desperation. His growls turned to raw moans, voice trembling as he ground into you without restraint. One hand pressed against your back, the other gripping tight into the sheets beneath.
You could feel the stretch of him, hot and hard, sliding inside you in short, punishing jolts. Your stomach twisted, thighs pressed tight together, arching deeper with every slam, taking his animalistic pace.
The bed rocked under you, nails clawed into the sheets, every movement messy, filthy, primal. He was broken, panting, utterly at your mercy, and you turned your head to watch, smirking as he cursed and groaned, burying his face in your neck for support.
His lips found purchase, dragging wet, sloppy kisses along the sensitive skin there. A shiver ran through you, and a low, involuntary moan escaped your throat. Your hands shot up, tangling in his hair, yanking him closer to you, forcing his mouth against your skin as you pressed back against him, matching each thrust, each grind, each slick slide with your own desperate, hungry movements.
He groaned against you, teeth grazing your neck, and you bit backâliterallyâsnapping your teeth down on his lower lip as he kissed you, mouth opening against yours in a collision of teeth and tongues. The kiss was violent, messy, consumingâan echo of the chaos that had always defined your dynamic. You shoved your body flush against him, hips rocking, back arching, dragging him as close as you could manage, fingers twisting in his hair like you were trying to tether him to you entirely.
âFuck, Iâmââ Toby rasped against your lips, breath rough, voice trembling. âI-Iâm about toâshit, donât stopââ
But you werenât having it. Not yet. Not when you had the power, not when you could control him fully. With a sudden, deliberate push of your hips, you shoved him off of you, rolling the two of you until he landed on his back with a soft thump, sheets twisting beneath the force.
You straddled him immediately, knees planted on either side of his hips, pressing down with calculated weight. The shift of power was instantâTobyâs hands went to your hips instinctively, trying to find purchase, but you leaned back slightly, letting gravity work for you as you sank down onto him, his eyes watching as your cunt sheathed him.
âMine,â you murmured, voice low, sharp, and all teeth and heat as you began to rock, rolling your hips forward and back with controlled, measured force. âThis is mine from now on.âÂ
He gasped, gripping your thighs, still trying to reclaim some sense of command, but you moved faster, harder, hips pushing down and pulling back like a pendulum. Tobyâs head fell back against the mattress, hair tousled, lips parted in ragged moans, eyes glazed and desperate. Every thrust from you hit him with a sharp, relentless rhythm that had him gasping, shivering under your control. His hands gripped your hips, nails digging into your skin, begging, pleading, but you were merciless. You refused to move up and down, only dragging your hips back and forth, catching your clit on the tone of his pelvis.
âYou like this?â you spat, leaning forward, pressing your chest against his, teeth brushing along his collarbone. âYou like being mine, donât you? Finally listening.â
âYes! Fuckâyes!â he rasped, voice breaking, hands clinging to you. âYouâreâfuckâyouâre killing meâgod, Iâm y-yoursâpleaseââ
You leaned down, brushing your lips against his in a wild, consuming kiss, tongue slipping inside to tangle with his as your hips rolled again, faster now, driving him closer to the edge.Â
âYou whine too much, puppy.â
You leaned up slightly, pressing your palms flat against his chest, letting your fingers wander over the taut planes of his abs. The heat radiating from him was insane, skin burning, muscles tight under your touch. Slowly, you dragged your hands higher until your fingers latched onto the familiar groove of his throatâthe place where all of this had started, where this little game had started between you.
Tobyâs breath hitched immediately. His hands shot to your waist, fingers digging in, anchoring you as he thrust upward into your cunt. You gasped at the sharp, thrilling impact, the way his body forced yours down, bouncing you against him. He didnât even hesitateâhe wanted it, craved it, and he wasnât holding back.
âDid you jerk off like thisâhnnghâthe first time I choked you? This fast?â you spat, voice low and sharp, watching his eyes begin to water.
âIâfuckâyes!â he rasped, tilting his head back, mouth open in ragged gasps. His hands slid higher, cupping your tits roughly, thumbs teasing, squeezing, forcing your movements to match his rhythm of jerking his hips up into you.
You grinned, biting down on your bottom lip as the chaos of it hit you. He was giving, he was taking, every motion messy, raw, and beautiful in its recklessness. You bounced down onto him, hard, each bounce of your hips shoving his cock deep, his hands clawing and forcing your body to meet his own.
âI hate you,â you hissed, brushing teeth over his collarbone, letting your grip tighten around his throat. âI hate you. I hateâhahâhate you. Fuckâdonât stop.â
Toby choked, face flushing against the grip on his neck, his breathing becoming labored. âFu-FuckâFuck you bitch. Feels s-soâmmmnhâso goodââ His hand reached around and slapped across your ass, grabbing the flesh in his palm and forcing your hips faster, forcing your pace to match his desperate thrusts.
You responded in kind, hitting his face with your palm once, twice, letting the sharp sting mix with the slick, hot heat between your bodies. He didnât care. He couldnât feel the pain, the slap, the rough hands on his chest, and it made him buck harder, moaning and growling in pure, unfiltered need. You slapped him again.
Tobyâs growls turned sharp at that, low and dangerous, cutting through the thick, humid heat of the room. His hands gripped your hips with bruising force, nails digging into your flesh as he thrust up against you. âYou feel too fu-fucking good,â he spat, voice rough, teasingly cruel. âIâm gonna m-make you cum fi-first, bitch.â
âOh, are you kidding?â you shot back, slamming down hard on him, hands wrapping tighter around his throat, eyes wild. âYouâre gonna cum like the pathetic little pervert you are.â
His laugh was harsh, raw, vibrating against your hands. âYou always h-have toâfuckâhave to have a comebackâcanât j-just be quietââ
You cut him off with another slap, your nail cutting his cheek where you hit him. A thin line of blood welled, and Toby stared at you through wide, frantic eyes. He grabbed harder, leaving dark purples across your hips and waist where his nails dug deep, tracing patterns only he could leave, marking you as his even as you marked him.
The room was chaos: skin slapping against skin, groans and curses tearing from both of you, bodies slick with sweat, hair wild and tangled, breaths ragged. Each thrust, each grind, each sharp slap or bite escalated the tension between you, a dangerous dance of dominance and pain and raw, primal need.
âC-Cumâ he growled, tilting his hips, driving into you with bruising force, knocking the head of his cock against your cervix.
âNot before you,â you shot back, grinning fiercely, rolling your hips to match his pace, nails digging into the taut plane of his stomach as you leaned down to bite at his jaw, licking up his cheek to the spot you nicked him. Blood and sweat mixed, hot and sharp on your tongue, and it only pushed you both harder.
His hands dug into your thighs and waist, leaving angry red marks, dragging you down, forcing you to ride him with every ounce of strength and ferocity. You matched him blow for blow, bite for bite, scratch for scratch, until the two of you were a mess of raw, gleaming skin, bruises and blood painting the chaos of your struggle.
âIâmâfuck, Tobyâfuck Iâm comingââ you cried, digging your nails into his chest.
He whined, staring at the heavy way your eyes looked, his beginning to flutter shut. âMhmâI c-canâtâhnn, I canât stopâIâm gonnaââ
Teeth sank, nails scraped, hips slammed, and finally the tension broke in a violent, shuddering peak. You both came together, voices strangled, wet, raw, bodies shaking, muscles trembling, bruised and marked and utterly wrecked. He snapped his hips one final time, and your cunt clenched against him so hard you felt the way he pulsed inside you. Every rope of hot cum filling you, claiming you. You milked every drop from him.
You collapsed against him, chest pressed to his, hearts pounding in furious synchrony. His breath came in ragged gasps, head tilted to the side, lips red, eyes glazed. You looked at him, smirk twisting across your lips even through the haze of post-climax heat.
âYouâre disgusting,â you murmured, voice low, laced with satisfaction.
âAnd youâre worse,â he shot back, voice hoarse, smiling anyway despite the blood and mess.
For a moment, the fire between you softened just enough to let something else creep in. Your lips met his, sharp at first, teeth grazing, tasting the sweat and saltâbut then, slower, gentler. The anger and frustration that had fueled you for the past two weeks melted, just for a second, into something almost tender. You kissed him, ignoring the slick heat still clinging to your thighs, the marks youâd left on each other, the bruises that would ache for days.
When you finally pulled back, your chest heaving, you allowed yourself a smirk, wet and satisfied. Slowly, achingly slow, you sat up, straddling him for one last lingering moment. He watched as your hips rose, his hands brushing your knees as you pulled him out, hissing at the tug before the final pop.
You felt the warmth slipping down your thighs immediately, his cum and your arousal making your cunt uncomfortably warm and sticky. You groaned.
âFuck you,â you hissed, hitting his chest, Tobyâs eyes nearly damn sparkling at the sight of his cum dripping out of you.. âYou really are a damn dog.â
You collapsed onto the bed next to him, letting your arms fall across your chest. Your foot connected sharply with his side in a lazy, spiteful push. âGo away,â you muttered, tone sharp but breathless, still buzzing from the aftermath.
Toby groaned softly, but he didnât move. Instead, he kicked his boots off with a quick, clumsy motion, then tugged the remnants of his jeans and boxers the rest of the way down, surprised how they had managed to still stay on at all. He tossed them onto your floor. His eyes flicked to yoursâbut there was no pleading, no frantic edge this time.Â
Without a word, he crawled up next to you, chest brushing yours, arm draping loosely over your waist. You flinched slightly at the contact, the lingering warmth between you both still slick and potent, but the anger had faded into something heavy, intimate. Tense. The air was thick with the scent of sex, sweat, and the raw, unspoken agreement that had finally, messily, solidified between you.
For a few moments, neither of you spoke. You could feel him, warm and pressed against your side, heartbeat rattling in sync with your own. Your hands twitched, itching to push him away or move out of his reachâbut instead, you let the silence settle, letting his arm lay limp across your waist.
Toby shifted slightly beside you, his fingers rubbing against your skin absentmindedly, a small smirk playing on his lips. âYou know,â he muttered, voice low and tired, âI re-really donât like being c-called a dog.â
You arched an eyebrow, smirking, reaching for your pillows and placing one under your head. âThen maybe you shouldnât beg me like one.â
He rolled his eyes, but his gaze stayed locked on yours, sharp and intense, and you felt a flutter in your stomach you hadnât expected. âStop staring at me like that,â you said quickly, voice catching slightly. âYouâre being weird. Go back to your own room already befoââ
He cut you off with a soft chuckle, leaning a little closer. âCan I k-kiss you again?â His tone was cautious, different from the heated demands of earlier, almost vulnerable.
Your heart thumped, and you stared at him, eyes flicking between his and his mouth, searching for something you couldnât quite name. The air between you thickened, tense and electric.
Finally, you shook your head slightly, lips pressing into a thin line. âI hate you, Toby. Thatâs not going to change,â you said, flat but not cruel, voice almost a whisper.
Tobyâs smile widened, slow and knowing, as if heâd been waiting for that. âThen hate me,â he murmured softly, leaning in.
And then he kissed you. Not hot, not frantic, not messy and angry like beforeâjust a kiss. Soft, slow, a quiet brush of lips, a grounding anchor in the aftermath of a hurricane. It was a moment of connection, a fleeting affirmation that despite the violence, the teasing, and the mess of the past weeks, there was⌠something between you. Affection, of a sort neither of you had admitted until now. A weird type of longing.
When you pulled back, your foreheads brushed together for a second, eyes flicking to one another with something like understanding. No words were neededâjust the weight of what had passed, and the subtle promise that, messy and complicated as it was, this was far from over.
But then you palmed his face, pushing his head away from you with a grin. He smiled against your hand, kissing it, too. His arm around your hip pulled you closer, and if you leaned into it, thatâs nobodyâs business but your own.
ââ .âŚ
The mission site was scattered with debris, slick blood, and the lingering metallic tang that you knew youâd have to clean up. The proxies moved efficiently, hauling bodies, wiping down surfaces, and gathering evidence, but you and Toby, as usual, couldnât go five minutes without trading insults.
âGod, youâre useless at this,â you snapped, throwing a wet rag at him that stunk of bleach and vinegar.
âIâm sorry Ms. Fucking Perfect, d-do it your damn self,â he shot back, voice sharp. You both glared at each other, daring the other to keep going.
Masky groaned behind you, rubbing his temples. âAre we still on about this? Just clean the goddamn blood.â
You didnât answer. Instead, you stood and grabbed Toby by the arm mid-retort and yanked him up, dragging him with you. Masky shouted something, but you were already climbing the stairs and dragging him to the first storage closet you saw. His eyes widened in surprise, but before he could react further, you shoved the door closed behind him.
He barely had a moment to process before his hands were on you, lips crashing against yours in a fast, rough kiss. His tongue darted in, claiming, and your hands tangled up into his hair as he slid one hand down the front of your pants, fingers immediately finding their mark and pressing against your aching clit.
You gasped into the kiss, teeth clashing against his in a way that was half challenge, half need. His other hand clutched at your waist, pulling you flush against him, and for a moment, the chaos of the mission, the others, the world outside that small, cramped closet, ceased to exist.
And in that moment, you realized just how much had shifted between the two of you.
The bickering, the arguing, the constant pushing each otherâs buttonsâit was all still there. You still drove him insane, and he still managed to get under your skin in ways no one else could. But instead of letting it spill over, instead of making everyone else deal with the fallout, youâd found a⌠solution.
You snuck off during missions, hearts racing, to bite, lick, and fuck the tension out of each other. After dinner, when the others were distracted, one of you would find the other and drag them to some quiet area of the mansion and use their hands on the other, letting the frustration and irritation turn into heat that left you both gasping and sticky. At night, sneaking into each otherâs rooms to whisper insults, spurring the other on just so theyâd grab you and fuck you through the mattress. During missions, your trips taking longer because youâd have to stop and fight over who was going to give the other head first.
It was messy. It was reckless. It was everything the two of you had always beenâand now, for the first time, it was satisfying. The anger became fuel, the hate became lust, and the fights that had once been a thorn in everyone elseâs side became an intimate, electric game of control, dominance, and pure, unfiltered need.
And even as you found yourself pressed against him in this closet, hands gripping, hips sliding together, teeth clashing, gasps mingling with curses, you couldnât help but smile.
Eventually, the door clicked open, and you both staggered out, breath still ragged, hands sticky, hair wild, but the world had resumed its usual pace. Toby followed a step behind, straightening his hoodie, adjusting his belt, hands now conspicuously idle. You fixed your hair, wiping the slick from your lips, tugging your shirt back down.
Without a word, the two of you fell back into your roles, hauling gear, wiping surfaces, and cleaning up the aftermath like the chaos of a few minutes ago had never existed. You moved in tandem with him only because necessity demanded it, but there was a subtle electricity in the air, just enough that you both noticedâbut neither spoke of it.
Masky and Hoodie exchanged a look across the room, each raising an eyebrow. Hoodie whispered something inaudible, and Masky shook his head, muttering, âI donât care. Theyâre quiet.â They were confused, but grateful that the usual bickering had been replaced by quiet efficiency. They didnât care how it got to that point.
Kate leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, a knowing look in her eyes. She watched as you and Toby moved through the cleanup with the barest hint of coordination, eyes occasionally flicking toward each other in a way that suggested familiarity⌠maybe even fondness, if one squinted.
Sliding closer to you as you scrubbed a particularly messy patch of floor, she whispered, teasing, âWhatâs changed? I didnât know you started liking him.â
You froze mid-swipe, wiping at the surface with one hand, and let your gaze drift lazily toward Toby. He was kneeling a few feet away, straightening a chair, annoyed and fidgeting as usual, completely oblivious to Kateâs question.
A slow, amused smirk curved your lips. âNah,â you said, voice light as you stared at him. âI hate that boy.â
Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated!
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ââ .⌠rainrot4me2025, all rights reserved. ęŠ .á
CW: 18+, Corruption Kink, Loss of Virginity, Implied Stalking, Pill mention, Smoking/Nicotine, Gun mention, Fem genitalia, Raw Sex, Creampie, Oral (fem receiving), Outside Sex, the works. This had way too much plot sowwy got carried away <3
KINKTOBER '24 MASTERLIST
Small clouds of your breath released into the cold winter air, the small spiral of smoke-like whisps escaping your lips and rising into the sky. Your hands clenched around your torso as you shook, trying and failing to warm up. You searched the fog that blanketed the area around you, waiting for the man that had you wrapped around his finger. So much so that you were waiting at a bus stop at 2am in frigid weather just to see him again. You wondered when exactly you had become so enamored with the man. When you first made eye contact through his mask in the deep woods? When he gifted you a tape that he had apparently filmed only you on? Maybe it was that night he lifted your chin, calloused fingers holding you firmly, and called you a 'sweet little temptation'. When you asked what he meant by that you only got silence in return.
You didn't know when exactly he started haunting your every thought. Nor why he did in the first place. You didn't even know his real name. Your parents would be rolling in their graves if they knew you spent most of your nights in the woods with a strange man that carried a gun and pill bottles with the labels ripped off. If they saw you hesitantly take the cigarette he offered you, only to choke your lungs up at the first hit. You had no interest in smoking, only in sharing the object between each other's lips. You could practically hear your mother scoffing in your ear every time you watched a man that was most likely mixed in with something dangerously illegal comb his hand through his dark hairâleading you further into the woods.
A shadow shifted in the outskirts of your vision, drawing your attention. You recognized his scuffed boots, the only part of him that was uncovered under the various streetlights that lined the sidewalk. The sight of him slowly stepping out from the dark and into your view made your heartbeat pick up, the goosebumps on your arms now not only just because of the cold. He stood silently. Completely still, waiting for you to join him. That was how all your nights started, the masked man waiting for you to come to him.
You attempted to walk towards him at a steady pace, nervously wondering if you seemed too eager. It was hard not to rush at him after not seeing him for two days.
"Hi," you whispered shakily, cringing at how it came out. The cold coupled with your nerves was doing wonders to your voice. He only grunted, shedding his heavy jacket and draping it over your shoulders and the jacket you already had on. The gesture did equal things to your heart and core, both your chest and thighs squeezing in tandem.
"Whatâno! Aren't you cold? It's freezing out here, I can't take your only jacket." Your voice came out shaky once again, and you cursed yourself and the weather.
"'S fine. Don't worry about it." You simultaneously loved and hated that he was a man of very few words. It was part of his charm you knew, but you would love to hear his voice more often. It was a deep raspy tone, low and even.
"Of course I'm gonna worry about it. It's, like, freezing out here and only dropping more by the hour. You'll get frost bitten if I steal this from you." You had stopped shaking, the jacket not only thick and well insulated, but warmed from his own body heat. It smelled of him, and it took a lot for you to not bring it up to your nose and smash your face in it like a love struck school girl.
His only response was to grab your hand, surprising you, and snake it up his t-shirt. You squealedâembarrassinglyâas he held your flattened palm against his chest. He was burning hot it seemed like, your cold hand a stark opposite against his own temperature. "See? 'M warm. Keep it on." You could only nod, thankful that the cold had already warmed your face long ago. You savored the feeling of his bare skin against your palm, feeling almost physically pained as you pulled away.
He turned and started walking towards the woods, pulling his mask on over his face as you both stepped over past the treeline and into the almost pitch black of the forest. You were grateful the moon was so bright, other nights you were a stumbling mess, barely able to see the ground in front of you. You followed him almost expertly, your months of shared exploration now carved into your limbs as you climbed after him over fallen trees and dodged spiderwebs that slipped into your pathway. You loved the silence, it allowed you to hear his breathing clearly. Although that thought made you feel a bit creeper-ish.
"What have you been doing?" You broke the silence, trying to keep your voice down as you knew by now that everything sounded louder in the woods at night.
"Busy." Right. You huffed, waiting for more than that. You hummed, prompting a better response from him.
"Had stuff to take care of. Nothin' you need to worry your pretty little head over." Your heart swooned over the slight term of endearment, not bothering to think about how he was still being secretive.
"I do worry about you though." You frowned. Would he think you were being overbearing? Overstepping, maybe? You shuddered at the thought, opting to not say anything else just in case. If he distanced himself from you because of your over involvement you'd probably hate yourself forever.
He hummed, stopping to pull a cigarette from the crushed pack in his pocket. His hands reached up to slip off the mask and you watched with baited breath, as always. You could never get enough of seeing the face under his mask. He flicked his lighter, the flame dancing around in the dark. You were impressed he lasted this long without a cigarette. Usually he had one lit before he came to meet you. You breathed in the scent of the nicotine smoke that floated in your direction, seemingly unbothered. You used to hate the smell, but it's something entirely different on him. It took on a new form in his presence. Maybe it was the allure of how his fingers flicked at the lighter, or the way the tiny flame reflected in his eyes. You'd never been attracted to men that smoked, much less the act of it. It was a disgusting habit is what you had been taught all your life. You had been taught a lot of things that you were now rebuking these past few months.
"Are we going somewhere?" Normally the answer would be something along the lines of 'wherever,' or, 'just walkin'.' He might take you to a sketchy abandoned building, something like a hospital. Sometimes a clearing, other times a steady stream. Once, it was a river that you dipped your feet into and talked in front of for hours.
"You wanna go somewhere?" You paused. That was a new one. He flicked his cigarette, lightly squashing the fallen ash under his boot. Any words you may have said escaped you. Was he serious?
"There are places to go?" The question was tentative. His gaze met yours and you froze in place, always mesmerized by the way he looked at you.
"If you want to. I'll take you anywhere you wanna go, pretty." He shrugged, seemingly unaware of the backflips that were happening in your chest.
"Aren't you cold yet? It's been a good hour now." You watched him carefully, noting how he still wasn't shivering. No goosebumps lined his arms, unlike you who was wearing two jackets and still had a tremor to your voice. You weren't sure if that was necessarily because of the cold though.
He raised an eyebrow as if asking you if you were serious. He nodded you over as he took another puff, his other hand reaching out for yours. Hesitantly, you let him grab your wrist, only for him to tug you towards him abruptly. He placed his cigarette back between his lips, one extremely warm hand slipping under your shirt and pressing against your lower back, pulling you into him. He pushed your hand up his t-shirt again, but you weren't anymore prepared this time. The feeling of his warmth against your hand had your head spinning in circles, the feel of his calloused fingers spread open just above your ass driving you wild in a way you'd never thought possible.
"Do I feel cold yet?" You were at a loss for words, mouth opening and closing in shock. You could barely shake your head no. You didn't miss the way the corner of his mouth ticked upwards, only for a moment. Your mind that was racing in a million different directions halted the second you felt his hand move along your skin to squeeze your hip and stay there. He pulled your closer until your body melded against his, completely stealing the air from your lungs. He had your ear pressed against his chest, his heartbeat loud and clear.
"Wha-? Why are we standing like this?" You didn't dare pull away, your voice coming out as a tentative whisper. Barely audible. You felt his hot breath on the top of your head as he spoke.
"You're cold, aren't you? You're shivering. You don't like it?" The question made you pause. Of course you liked it. You'd never forget this moment or the way his rough hands felt as they squeezed your bare hip. The way his body heat wrapped around you left you feeling wildly desperate.
"It's not that." It would never be that.
"No? Then tell me you like it." His voice sounded lower than usual. You fought the embarrassment of saying something like that outloud.
"What's that matter?" You mumbled the words like they were poisonousâthe poison being pure shame.
He hummed, ashing his cigarette and freeing his hand back up so that both could be slipped under your shirt and clasped onto your body. He dragged his fingertips up your spine and back down, his other hand slipping down to cup your ass.
"You don't like it and I'll let you go. You want me to let go?"
"I...," you trailed off, the nervousness seeping into your voice plainly. He only hummed, prompting you to try again. Your hesitation made him begin to pull back, and the loss of his warmth had your fingers clutching his shirt, attempting to hold him there as you tried again.
"I like it." Your words were said quietlyâslowly, evenâas if it would make it less embarrassing if you took your time with them.
He didn't say a word to what felt like a filthy confession in your mind. His only response was physical, his hands returning and only getting braver. You remained clutching at his shirt as he trailed a hand higher and higher up your back, lightly dragging his nails up and under the straps of your bra. You buried your head in his chest, embarrassed and panicked as you felt him undo the clip that held it together.
"Tell me that's okay." You knew he was referring to the undone bra, but your words felt like jello as they tried and failed to come out. You could only nod, face still hidden.
He grabbed your chin unexpectedly, dragging your face up to meet his. You were sure you looked anything but composed, unlike him.
"If it's okay then tell me with your words. Use your mouth." Your mind immediately turned dark with the things you could use your mouth for, face burning at the thought. Your thoughts swirled as his other hand slowly slipped past your waistband slowly, just teasing the skin there.
"It is." You could barely get that out without shifting your gaze anywhere else besides his face. He leaned down to your ear, letting go of your chin to slip another hand up the front of your shirt. Your thighs clenched as your felt his hand stop just between your breasts, teasing the skin there. Your skin was lit with anticipation unlike anything you'd ever felt before.
"Tell me that with your words then. Go ahead." You couldn't believe he was making you say it again. You didn't think you were strong enough.
"I...," you started, the words dying in your throat as you watched his eyes stare into what was probably your soul. "I've never done this before." You shifted nervously, wondering if that would change anything. You being inexperienced in this way at this age was embarrassing.
"I'll make you feel good. You don't want me?" He was all you wanted.
"I want you," the words shook as they came out, but they were there nonetheless. "It's okay...for you to touch me." That seemed to be all he neededâin the next few seconds his mouth was latched to your neck, kissing and sucking as his fingers moved to unbutton your pants. You weren't sure what to do with your hands as he moved down your shoulder with his mouth.
He pulled your shirt up, telling you to hold the hem in your mouth as he pulled your pants down, accidentally pulling your underwear with them. You'd never felt so exposed in your life as he flipped your positions to have your back against the tree he was previously leaning on. Your undone bra was slipping off your shoulders, leaving your breasts half exposed, nipples peaking out. He had pulled down your pants leaving you completely exposed. You tasted fabric as you continued biting down on the bottom of your shirt, back arching as you watched him cut your bra off. You couldn't have protested if you wanted to.
"You're pretty jus' like this," he whispered lowly in your ear, fingers reaching down to push into your folds, making you whimper as you felt him slowly caress your opening, his fingers slowly pushing in and out, just barely. "With your legs spread, giving it up for a man like me." His words had you pushing your hips closer to him in a vain attempt to get his fingers to finally push inside of you fully. He dropped to his knees, not bothering to give you any warning before he pulled you closer to his face by your hips and licked a stripe up your pussy. You whimpered around the cloth in your mouth, hips jutting closer as he latched his mouth around your clit and sucked, fingers finally pushing up inside of you. You could barely contain yourself as he pushed in and out of you, pushing against your walls. The sting of him adding another finger had you reeling with the pain, only for his mouth to soothe it.
He was mumbling as he ate you, the words mostly too low for you to hear. You could only make out him telling you how you tasted, and the thought of him enjoying that almost had your knees buckling. You had your fists clenched onto his shoulders, grasping at his shirt. You had to fight not to fist his hair and push him further into you. Your hips weren't winning any fights, rolling on his tongue like a woman starved. He pulled away, fingers leaving you empty and clenching on nothing.
You didn't get to question why as he had you soon turned around with your hands pressed against the tree holding you up, your ass bare and sticking up for him. If your legs weren't shaking with what was an almost-orgasm you would have felt more embarrassed. Though as he grabbed you by the throat and rubbed his clothed dick on your ass you were only thinking about how you wanted more. He nipped at your ear, hand reaching around your front to messily play with your clit again.
"You're so wet I could just slip right in. Make a mess of you and fill you up." He sunk his fingers back into you, pumping as you gasped and shook against his body.
"You want me inside yet, pretty?" You moaned at the thought, nodding your head up and down as your hips rolled into his still pumping fingers.
"You sure? I don't have any protection. You still want me to fuck you?" Maybe your brain wasn't working properly, or maybe you really were corrupted because your only response was to push your ass up and arch your back, hands steadying yourself against the tree. You only received a laugh in response, and you thought about how normally you would have felt self conscious about that.
You let out a tiny gasp to yourself as you felt his tip press against you, shaking as he dragged it up and down your folds slowly. He rubbed it over your clit, probably smiling to himself as he watched you come undone over the simplest stimulation.
"Where exactly do you want it?" You could feel the glee in his voice as he said it, obviously pleased with himself.
"Inside." The words sputtered out, leaving you with a confidence you weren't aware was in your possession before today. "Inside me, Masky." He heard your request and granted it easily, pushing his tip against you and slowly slipping inside. Your breathing picked up as you felt the stretch and consequential burn, body tensing and rigid.
His hand slipped under your stomach, his voice low but tense in your ear. "Relax, baby." He smoothed his hands over your waist, maybe attempting to ease the tension there. Luckily for both of you it worked, his hands lighting fireworks anywhere he touched.
He eased into you, fingers finally gracing your clit again, the pleasure soothing a good portion of the burn as he continued to press into you, filling you in a manner that you thought should be impossible. A low groan left his mouth as he bottomed out, a few curses splitting from his lips as he asked if you were ready. You took a brief moment to breathe through the painâhis fingers on you and him being inside of you all at once was causing your brain to short circuit. You weren't sure your mouth and brain were connected at this point, the only sounds that left you now being uncontrolled moans and gasps. Thankfully your hips rolling back into him was enough of an answer in his eyes, and he began moving slowly. You'd never been filled up like this before, the new feeling of him moving inside you was almost addictive.
You were practically singing as he picked up speed, your walls fluttering as he hit seemingly every sensitive spot inside you repeatedly. You were seeing stars with the way he fucked you.
It took more focus than you were currently capable of to hold yourself up, the more he slammed into you the more jello-like your legs became. As you began slipping he wrapped his arms around you, bringing your back flush with his chest with no pause to the almost rhythmic pace, his movements unrelenting. You could have collapsed as he teased your clit, your orgasm slowly approaching. You were practically throbbing with desire as he fucked up into you, his mouth latching onto your neck. You could barely move your hips to meet him halfway anymore, the exhaustion beginning to set in. Although he seemed perfectly fine doing it all on his own, his movements never ceasing for a second as he cursed in your ear, his words barely making any sense to you.
It was a string of filithy compliments, sweet praises for you and disgustingly lewd comments about how you felt wrapped around his dick. You couldn't make sense of much, far too focused on the way you fluttered around him, your walls clenching as you rose higher and higher towards an orgasm. Your breathing came heavy as he fucked into you faster, your mewling and newly tensed legs signaling to him what was fast approaching. He circled and teased your clit relentlessly, encouraging you with words full of filith.
"I-I'm, I can'tâMasky!" You couldn't push the words out, all your attention on the way your stomach coiled as your release got closer. Your hips were back to rocking against him, chasing the feeling and spreading your legs further to give him more room.
"Love when you say my name, go ahead and scream it for me." You did just that, your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave, his name falling from your lips like a prayer and a song all in one. His place slowed as he kissed down your neck and shoulder, leaving marks behind and praising you endlessly. He fucked you through it as you slowly came down, his praise only serving to light you on fire again. You'd never heard him speak so much, much less to compliment you like this. He slipped out, the emptiness not doing as much to you as the immediate burn you felt afterwards.
"Wait, you didn't cum?" You questioned him worriedly, horrified at the thought that maybe he didn't enjoy it. He only laughed, motioning towards your legs. You looked down and only then did you feel the sticky wetness that slowly dripped from your entrance and down your thighs. You had no idea when he came or how he continued afterwards, but the evidence was clear.
âNot a chance in hell I wasn't cumming with you choking out my dick like that.â That comment had your face heating, as if you weren't already flushed and sweaty despite the cold. You nervously met his eyes, wondering what exactly this changed. Would he still want to meet with you like you had been for the past few months? Or was he done with you now that he'd gotten something? You figured worrying about this when you hadn't even pulled your pants up from where they laid at your ankles was a bit premature, but your brain didn't seem to agree.
You didn't have to worry for long though, Masky didn't waste any time in pulling you to his mouth, practically devouring you where you stood. You'd never been kissed like that in your life, his teeth biting at your lower lip as his hand held your head in place, pressed against him. He pulled away only after you began squirming, watching you with a satisfied gaze as you gasped for breath.
âDo you regret it?â You faltered, surprised he was the one asking that and not you. âHuh?â is all you managed to sputter out. Speaking didn't seem to be your strong point tonight.
âDo you regret me?â You shook your head almost violently, protests falling out of your mouth now in a jumbled mess. You couldn't believe he'd ever think that, as if you weren't just screaming his name against a tree of all things.
He hummed, watching you slowly rise from pulling up your bottoms. âThat's good, âcause even if you did it wouldn't matter much.â He twirled a strand of your hair absentmindedly, his eyes locked on yours in a way that could only remind you of a predator. âYou're mine now. Entirely.â Maybe you should feel put offâscared, evenâat his words and the tone he says them in. The only thing you feel instead is pure, undiluted joy in the fact that he's claimed you so confidently. You'd never imagined being with a man that was clearly dangerous in so many ways, but something about him had changed you fundamentally as a person. Him or something about him had done something to you and your nature. Something irreparable.
synopsis: growing up spoiled, you're used to getting what you want. it seems that leon kennedy, an agent under your father's supervision, (infuriatingly, stupidly hot) is an exception.
tags: semi-public sex, brat!reader, light spanking, overstimulation, rough sex, no protection, use of y/n, afab!reader, reader is down bad and a lil delusional
warnings: age gap (leon is in his forties, reader is in her early twenties), undernegotiated kink (although reader is very into it), a bit of dub-con
notes: let me know if i need to add any more tags/warnings!
divider by: @cursed-carmine .á
it isn't a secret that you're used to getting your way.
and why not? you dad was loaded, and he loved you so, as his only daughter. designer bags, trips to paris, spontaneous beach vacations - you name it, you had it. your friends had always teased you about it, giving you the nickname 'daddy's girl' or 'princess.' you think you quite like both - after all, why deny something that's very clearly true?
point is, you were spoiled. from your hair to your louboutin-clad toes, you were the typical image of a rich daddy's girl. couple that with the fact that your looks were easy on the eyes? you weren't just spoiled by your dad - you were used to being spoiled by men, too. a bat of your eyelashes and they were a goner. a pretty, rich daddy's girl.
so of course it comes as a surprise when you meet leon kennedy, an agent under your father's supervision in his new goverment job, seemingly the only man who has no interest in you at all.
"hello, mr. kennedy," you chirp, looking up at him with big eyes, all doe-like. you made sure to dress extra pretty today - a short, polka-dot dress that showed off your cleavage nicely, your hair done in loose ringlets. you made sure your makeup looked nice, too - adding a bit more blush than usual to appear softer. you lean in a little, practically gifting the agent an eyeful. "have you seen my dad?"
leon grunts an affirmation, barely glancing your way before he strides off to who-knows-where. "yeah. down the hall, kid, in his office like always."
'kid.' you scoff internally, watching him go with a slight pout on your lips. whatever. you stride to your father's office for no particular reason, already thinking of your next move.
the next day, you come in wearing a tube top and shorts, along with a baggy leather jacket that's just shy of dwarfing your frame. it's enough to draw curious (if a little amused) glances from the other agents - leon's colleagues. still, when you pass by his desk, even as you walk by slowly and greet him with a smile -
all you get is a small huff of acknowledgement back. he glances at you once, and then he's back on his computer, his brows pinched in concentration.
you falter. still, you're not one to give up. you stroll right up to his desk, offering him one of the coffees you're holding. (you have three. one for your dad, one for you, and one for leon. still, you tell him that the barista accidentally gave you an extra.)
he raises a brow, and his eyes drift from your face to the coffee cups you're holding. he exhales quietly, leaning into his chair, and your eyes zero in on how big his biceps are, practically busting out of his button-up. you swallow, tilting your head as his reply goes through one ear and out the other. "huh?"
there it is. the slightest uptick of the corner of his mouth. your heart leaps in your chest, eyes lighting up.
"i said," he repeats, voice low. "no thanks, kid." then he goes right back to his work, ignoring you, sending a sharp stab of humiliation through your chest. your cheeks flush, and this time, you can't help the petulant huff that escapes your lips as you walk away.
the next day after that, you have classes, so operation get-agent-kennedy-to-fuck-you goes to a stand still. or at least, you think it does - until you bump into him in a cafe, chatting with some woman. all of a sudden, it makes sense. his avoidance, his disinterest. you sit down on a booth a little further away, trying to pretend that you're not glancing at him over your coffee cup every five minutes.
the woman - his girlfriend? wife? - leaves before he does. your gaze falls to him again, you can't help it, and your heart lurches in your chest when you find him staring back.
you wave. he tilts his head a little, and his searching gaze makes you feel a little exposed, see-through. as if magnified by an unseen force, you stand up, making your way over to him.
"your girlfriend seems nice," you say, by way of opening up a conversation. you take the seat opposite him when he gestures for you to do so.
"not my girlfriend." his lips curl up into a faint smile. you've never quite seen him this close before - at least, for this long.
"...wife?" you ask, pressing just a bit further.
a huff that sounds almost like a laugh escapes him. "no."
you pray you don't look as giddy to hear that news as you feel.
"so," you say, leaning in, smile widening. the little goblin in your brain is turning the gears. "you're single?"
"single," he confirms, just the slightest hint of a smirk on his lips. "but not interested in college students."
you blink at him before sighing, leaning back onto the chair as you cross your arms. "why not?"
leon seems all the more amused by your petulant behavior, crossing his own arms. it only makes the muscles in his arms pop like they're threatening to escape his button-up. fuck. "you're too young for me, kid. do guys your age not satisfy you enough?"
"i'm an adult." you say, defensive. "i'm old enough."
he lets out a low chuckle, shifting in his seat before standing up. "good luck with your classes, y/n."
you stare after his muscular back - wow, are his shirts always that tight? - long after he leaves. his voice rings out through your brain, low and teasing.
he knows your name.
your lips curl up into a giddy grin.
. . . đŁ˛â･Ë
it's as if you take his rejection the opposite way he intended. you show up to meet your dad more often on the weekends, in skimpier and skimpier clothing. you find an excuse to drop things near his desk so you can bend down in front of him, your short skirts riding up to reveal a peak of what's underneath. your dad is exasperated, but he could never say no to his little girl.
you know you're staring to look ridiculous. desperate. but it doesn't really matter much to you when it's working.
you notice his stolen glances, how his eyes flicker to your cleavage before his head jerks away with a small huff. you notice the way his fists unclenching whenever you stand up from bending over, greeting him an innocent grin. it's so fun, you realize - riling him up. but nothing will ever compare to getting what you really want.
. . . đŁ˛â･Ë
the loud, 'plap, plap, plap' of skin slapping against skin echoes throughout the empty file room. your mouth is covered by his hand - his veiny, pretty hand - muffling your quiet gasps and whimpers as he takes you from behind, bent over a table. the cold metal digs into your skin as he pushes you down further, his hand meanly gripping your hair as he pistons into you with sharp, pointed thrusts.
"mmh, haah, fuckâ" your eyes roll to the back of your head as the fat tip of his cock bullies your cervix for the nth time, sliding in so deep inside of you you swear he's rearranging your guts. your words are slurred, all fucked out as you struggle to look back at him with half-lidded eyes, glassy with tears. his cock is stretching you out, your cunt gripping him so tight it's like you never want to let go. you whine, "'s so big, leon, ha-ahâ"
"you cryin' already?" leon huffs, voice low, his breath hitching as he bottoms out again. he's so mean, his grip on your waist tight to the point of bruising as he pulls you onto his cock again. his hand drifts lower for a moment, thumb catching on the fat lip of your cunt, stretching it out with an amused chuckle. "god. look at this tight pussy."
you squeak as a 'slap!' resounds around the room, hips jerking forward as the sharp sting of his hand coming down on your ass registers. you huff, petulant. "leonâ"
"yeah," he murmurs, his eyes transfixed on where his cock disappears into your cunt, swallowing him in so nicely. "such a good girl f' me. you love this, don't you, princess? practically gagging for it everyday, bending over like that. fucking tease."
"you happy now?" andâfuck. you answer him with cute, punched out moans, tears rolling down your cheeks as he drives into you so hard your ass stings. he's everywhere, on top of you, inside you, blanketing you. worst of all, his cock is so deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach. "got what you wanted, huh, pretty girl? spoiled brat, not used to not getting your wayâ" he groans, hips gyrating as he stills, laughing lowly as your legs shake against him. he's holds you still even as you jerk forward, a garbled cry wrenching itself out of your lips as it gets too much, too quickly.
"t' t'much, fuck, leon, hah, noâ"
"awe," leon coos, his touch leaving a trail of warmth as he pulls out abruptly, ignoring your cute little squeal as he places you on your back. he brushes your hair off your face before he places his hands - oh, wow, big - on the back of your thighs, pushing your legs forward until they're almost sticking to your chest. he lines up his cock clumsily with one hand, pre-cum already dripping at the tip. "no?"
he sheaths himself inside again with one, smooth thrust. your eyes widen, back arching as you let out a strangled moan, the sound hastily muffled by leon's palm.
"ungkâugh, oh,â" you gasp and choke, fat tears falling down your face. your legs thrash as you struggle to take all of him deeper, kicking out weakly, trembling in his tight hold.
"so good for me," leon groans, babbling praise, the rhythm of his thrusts getting clumsier as he nears his peak. he thrusts into you with reckless abandon, spurned on by how beautiful you look when you're crying, lashes clumped with tears even as you look up at him all doe-like, so needy for his cock. he wants to ruin you. keep you forever. "take me so well, princess, so prettyâgod, and so eager for it, aren't you? take all of me like it's nothing, like you were made thisâ"
"y/n?"
you make a soft noise of confusion as somebody calls your name. leon's hand dips down between your thighs to your heat, his thumb pressing meanly against your clit, rubbing it in small, tantalizing circles until you're gasping andâ
"y/n? you okay, girl?"
your eyes open, wide and hazy as the lingering vestiges of the, uhm, nice dream you had wears off. oh, shit. your chest is rising and falling erratically as you come down from your high. you look around, disoriented, and realize that you've fallen asleep at your desk. your roommate looks at you, mildly concerned.
"'mâ'm okay." you say weakly, flashing her a smile. "s-sorry."
"you sure?" your roommate raises a brow. "you were screaming pretty loud for a moment there. nightmare?"
oh, god. your cheeks burn. "um. kind of."
"well, alright, then." your roommate shrugs, turning away from you again, but not before shooting you a look. "... by the way. who's leon?"
you choke on your spit, slumping down onto your desk as you hide your face from her.
ăvarka/readeră nsfw ăź mdniă wc616ă smută ridingă size trainingă premature ejaculationă markingă dacryphilia if you squintă varka's BIG
ămasterlist.
varka who cums as soon as you take him all the way.
it's three hours before you're hovering above him. three excruciating, worrying, torturous hours of nothing but prep work. his fingers are pruned and aching from stretching you out, cock stiff and wrist screaming after watching dildo after dildo be sucked into your cunt â each a size up from the last, each taking a few minutes longer until they're sliding without resistance and making you cream.
you're crying at this point, straddling his waist, only just able to fit half inside of you. tears are falling one by one as you babble that it's 'too much,' sniffling and whining when his calloused thumbs brush against your cheeks.
"i know, sweetheart. take your time." he lets out a breath he didn't realise he was holding, hands finding their way back to your hips and thumb tracing circles around your clit to ease the pain.
he told you that you didn't have to take him â there were other ways to get both of you off that he was more than willing to do instead â but you'd been begging him to let you try, wanting nothing more than to be completely filled by him; to feel every inch and vein massage your walls in a way you knew you'd never feel on your own.
which is why you didn't complain when he brought out the toys; it didn't matter how long it took, just knowing he was willing to try made you more determined than ever.
but gods you're tight. everything was supposed to loosen you up, but the way you squeeze down on his cock pulls the air straight out of his lungs. the edging wasn't helping â every time you came around a toy having him stave off his own orgasm, holding out hope that you'd take him easily and imagining how excited you'd be having him fill you more.
you're almost fully seated on his lap, knees shaking a bit from multiple previous orgasms and chest heaving to keep yourself focused. it takes everything in him to hold himself still, spurred on by your hiccups and moans when you slide a bit further down. even worse when you pull back up â sufficiently lubricating him more and seemingly trying to kill him.
"can' take it, 's too big, too full," you squeeze down on him, whimpering when he twitches.
"almost there," he groans into your throat, so sensitive it hurts. "atta girl."
you whine against his shoulder, soft grinding making your walls flutter at the pressure. you feel like you're about to burst, so full you could've cried if you hadn't dried yourself out already.
varka's no better â head spinning from the vice clamped around him, breathing shallow and body slick from sweat and lubricant. his hand splays against your lower back for just a moment, hips rocking up as little as they can before you're pressing him further into you.
you both gasp when he bottoms out, hips pressed together for only a moment before he groans. your core throbs from his pulse, warmth flooding your navel as he fills you with his cum. he's sure it'd be dripping onto the sheets if you weren't wrapped so tightly around him.
your heart jumps into your throat at the feeling, body trembling against his chest with sensitivity. you're more emotional than you thought you'd be; eyes burning with ghostly tears from both pleasure and pride at taking everything he could give you.
he's a little embarrassed at cumming so easily, having hoped he could get a few good thrusts in beforehand, but knowing you're getting used to it now means little wait until he's thoroughly fucking you.
summary: your life was perfect⌠perfect boyfriend (an impending proposal) perfect life, until it all comes crashing down. your scummy boyfriend leaves you for Harvard Law school?? saying he needs someone âlessâ blonde and more serious in his future :| guess youâll just have to go to Harvard law to get him back! shouldnât be that hard right? only now heâs engaged?! and you happen to meet a very handsome TA who happens to also be so so sooo dreamy and sweetâŚ
pairing: emmet!hiromi x elle!reader
word count: 13.5k roughlyâŚ
content: MDNI, legally blonde au! fem!reader, mentions of female anatomy, minimal use of y/n, blonde/slightly ditzy reader kinda, he falls first she falls harder trope, slow burn, lots of world building, lots of unnecessary dialogue, bad academia mentioned sorry xx, naoya cameo (sorry), some canon divergence bc i say so, vivian is the fiancĂŠ bc Iâm not subjecting any jjk girlies to him, fluff, some terms of endearment (sweetheart, honey, baby), eventual smut, !! dry humping, piv, handjob, oral (m/f receiving), unprotected piv (be safe), creampie, belly bulge, multiple positions?
extra: art credits - @mizuart_bolillo @hunnismokah
18+ minors no not interact!
Everything about tonight is perfect, it has to be. Perfectly curated date dress (this is the date, it has to be perfect). Dress pink and sparkly, hugging your figure just right. Spaghetti straps. Short hem hugging the plump curve of your ass. Skin tight perfection, accentuating every curve. A borderline scandalous v neck. Glitzy strappy pink heels, elongating your legs juuusst right. Oh, of course perfectly voluminous hair (not a curl out of place). And the finishing touch⌠the makeup youâd spent hours perfecting. The exact shade of lipgloss he likes, plump and pink. The prettiest pink blush⌠volumising lashes! to create that pretty doe eyed fluttery look. Everything about you tonight was thought out with him in mind. What he likes.
Oh, and of course the restaurant heâd picked was just perfect! Apparently Madonna dines here! There are these gorgeous warm toned fairy lights twinkling throughout the space. Gentle piano music played somewhere nearby. Round tables covered with cloud white tablecloths. Candles and rose vases are centered on every table. Itâs just so romantic! This is the perfect proposal destination. The place is packed tonight, other couples nearby enjoying each other's quiet company. Itâs a gentle atmosphere filled with quiet conversations, flushed cheeks and adoring looks.
Of course heâd choose such a romantic place to propose! Heâd waited long enough⌠The anticipation is just eating you up. He just had lunch with his grandma for Christ's sake! She flew in! Obviously to hand deliver the ring (how thoughtful). 4 years together and now itâs finally time. Itâs been bliss. Especially lately heâs been attached at the hip. Never without his hands on you. Itâs honestly been a bit exhausting, but of course heâs been more affectionate⌠what else would a man do before he proposes. Youâre just the picture of the perfect couple. Respective presidents of your sorority/frat. Typical white picket fence couple, collage sweethearts to be. Itâs just so cliche but you wouldnât want it any other way! And all of your girls just knew a proposal was on its way! Theyâll want to see the ring later tonight.
Itâs not until youâve had your fill of the wine, mind pleasantly hazy. Meal nearly done. When finally he starts talking, a smug grin on his face. âPooh bear, thereâs something important I want to talk to you about⌠one of the reasons I wanted to come here tonight was to discuss our future.â Your lashes flutter, straightening up. Pushing your shoulders back, internally grinning when his gaze flickers down to your exposed plump chest. Locking in to this moment, this is it! âI am perfectly amenable to that discussion.â Fingers curling under your chin, staring directly into his eyes.
âGood. Well, you know how weâve been having all kinds of fun lately?â, nodding along, âYes.â
âItâs about time I start getting serious about my life. Iâm going to Harvard Law in the fall and⌠itâs about time I started thinking about settling down. My family expects it of me.â Tears start to sprinkle your waterline, palms turning clammy, chest exploding with butterflies, massive smile slowly taking over your glossed lips. Answer at the ready.
âI plan on running for office one day. So If Iâm going to be a senator by the time Iâm thirty I need to stop dicking around. And well if Iâm going to be a senator⌠I need to marry a Jackie. Not a Marylin.â A record screeches to a halt somewhere in the distance. Wait what? Your brows slowly start to crease, smile faltering. That doesnât make sense, this isnât how you start a proposal⌠What does that even mean? Heart stuttering in your chest.
âNaoya⌠what are you talking about?â Confusion lacing your tone, head tilting, bouncy curls following.
âIâm talking about us Pooh bear, you know I love you but I need to start planning for my future and what my family expects of me.â Sly grin turning his face from one you recognise to something foreboding.
âWait, what is this? Are you not proposing?â Your glossy lips turn down completely now. Breath caught in your throat.
âOh Pooh bear, I canât marry youâŚâ he drawls. Faux frown on his face, voice laced with condescension. âYouâre not serious marriage material. Weâve had fun together but my family would never let me marry someone like you. Youâre not serious marriage material. You were just some fun before all the responsibilities and expectations Iâll have at Harvard.â He finishes. Not an ounce of remorse or regret in his cruel words. Just smug indifference. That makes you pause. Heart literally shattering into a million pieces.
âSomeone like me? Not serious marriage material?! What is going on⌠are you- are you seriously dumping me?â Voice raising slightly coming out broken. Now the tears really start. 4 years. 4 perfect years together and he decides youâre not serious enough for him! It was just some fun. What the fuck is happening right now.
Sobs start leaving erratically now. Shoulders jumping with their impact. Mascara streaking down your previously perfectly done face⌠and to make things worse people start looking at the very obvious scene unfolding. Stares filled equally with pity and disgust. Dumping you at a romantic restaurant. Seriously!?
âSo what! Am I too blonde? Are my boobs too big?!â You burst out between sobs. Trying miserably to make sense of his drastic change of mind.
âOh pooh bear⌠shhh donât cry please. Letâs not make a scene.â Heâs looking around at the other people in the restaurant skeptically as he tries to reason with you.
âBad salad.â He says to the couple at the table next to you.
Stumbling up from your seat you snatch your purse and all but burst out of there, tugging on the hemline of your dress trying not to trip over your own feet. The only thought going through you right now is to get out of here as quickly as you can. Before you break down completely on the sidewalk.
A few minutes later youâre sniffling as you walk (limp) down the street, a car slows down by you and without looking you know who it is. Turning slightly and there he is. Arm hanging over the side of that stupid convertible daddy probably paid for, lips pulled down in a cruel frown. Eyes swirling with mirth.
âCmon Pooh bear, let me take you home.â
âNo.â
âCmon youâll ruin your shoesâŚâ Honestly you would just walk if it werenât⌠30 minutes away, and he is right⌠in these shoes? So reluctantly you nod.
The silence stretches broken every now and then by your sniffles. Upon arrival at Delta Nu, you canât even look at him. Just sniffling quietly trying to control your sobs until youâre alone. Youâre ruining your makeup!
âLook Pooh bear, I wish this wasnât how it had to be. You know how I feel about you. But I have to marry someone serious, smart, elegant⌠and youâre just not that.â Okay ouch. The undermining is astounding. Who is he to say youâre not smart or serious or elegant!
You canât even say anything to him right now so you just leave. By the time youâre at the door heâs already gone.
.
.
.
The state your poor room has succumbed to over the past few days is downright deplorable. Curtains blocking out any natural form of light. The only illumination youâve been receiving comes from glaring tv across from you. The floor looking like a tornado of chaos and dirty tissues has swept through your space. Chocolate wrappers cover your bed among the fluffy blankets and old clothes, creating a safe cocoon for your borderline malnourished person to rot away in. Watching sappy romcoms probably wasnât the best idea⌠âCmon babe youâve gotta get up, letâs go do something! Why donât we go shopping or⌠get our nails done? That always cheers you up!â Some of your girls have been trying to get you out of your room for days now⌠you just shake your head and sink deeper into the plush mess youâre moulded to.
âI donât feel like shopping or manicures right now⌠I just want Noaya back.â Sobs erupting again. You try to ignore the sympathetic frowns thrown your way. A clean tissue presented to you. You were with him for 4 years. Your most susceptible years. Of course this hurts. How can you not be serious enough for him after 4 years⌠Why did he need a Jackie and not a Marylin? And! Whoâs to say youâre not a Jackie!
Brows furrowed youâre picking at chocolates covering you again, only taking small bites of each. Because that means it doesnât count! How can you be serious enough for him? You seriously like shopping! And your girls and of course bruiser! Regardless. You donât have much time to get Naoya back⌠heâll be heading off to Harvard in the fall. If only you could go with him. It would be so fun. Wait⌠Thatâs it! You just have to go with him! Both girls gasp as you suddenly spring up out of your bed. Hair sticking in every direction, crazed smile taking over your face, eyes wide as saucers.
âI know how to get him back! I just have to go to Harvard with him?!â Honestly this is the best idea youâve had in a while! Your girls look stunned. Both speechless at your outburst and⌠confused. âHow are you going to do that..?â Uncertainty lacing their intermingling voices.
âI just have to get into Harvard law before graduation, should be easy enough!â Youâve got a 4.0GPA and a dream. Who cares if your grades are from all your fashion classesâŚ
The next few months of your life are full of studying. No more parties⌠no more distractions. Youâre more dedicated than youâve ever been before. Often exhausted from the long⌠torturous hours of reading, but itâs all for a good cause! Your professors have all seemed so surprised with your newfound tenacity⌠and an interest in Harvard? You arenât sure why. What is so surprising about someone realising they want to attend an Ivy League institution⌠All thatâs left to do is submit your Harvard video essay and absolutely smash that LSAT! And if you do say so yourself that video essay was perfect! It really makes an impression. Featuring an incredible shot of you in your tiniest bikiniâŚ
âAaand done. Pencil down.â This is it! your practice test for the LSAT and thank god your girls are being so helpful! Timing you to the exact second youâll need to be done. ââŚ143. Iâm sorry babe but you need a 175 to passâŚâ the solemn looks around donât deter you. You just need to study harder before the real thing!
âItâs here!!! Where is she?â All the yells and chatter downstairs have your ears perking up. Descending the stairs you see⌠all your girls huddled around holding something? A letter. The letter. The LSAT results!
Perfect 179⌠youâre going to Harvard!!
.
.
.
The campus is so cute! Georgian brick architecture. Gorgeous fall leaves cascading from the surrounding oak. The joy is clear on your face to any passing students, your grin magnetic. Your outfit is perfectly pink. Hair bouncing as you sashay up the stairs of your new home. This is going to be so fun!
âBruiser, how do I look?â Twirling in front of your pup showing him your perfectly curated outfit for your first day. Hair is up in a bouncy pony, cascading strands framing your face. Makeup flawless. Glossy lips. Smart flannel patterned blazer. Dark pencil skirt hugging plush thighs. Smart heels. And some fake tortoiseshell glasses you found that complete the whole smart lawyer to be look!
Squinting up at the bulletin board. Okay so itâs actually hard to see in these glasses⌠âExcuse me, Iâm sorry⌠are you here to see me?â Turning to see Naoya. The shock is evident on his face. After a moment his gaze turns from incredulous to drags up and down your form, lingering on your chest.
âNo, silly. I go here!â Youâre all smiles and excitement upon seeing him again. This is just so perfect now youâll get back together and everything will be perfect again. His eyes blow wide and his mouth gapes. âYou? You go here. Harvard?â He sounds stunned⌠tone unbelieving. But thatâs probably because he wasnât expecting to see you!
âMhm! Isnât this so great! Weâll get to see each other all the time.â Your eyes twinkle up at him, smile gleaming. Expecting him to be happy youâre here. âThis must be a mistake. Thereâs no way you could get into Harvard Law.â He all but sneers at you. Not at all excited to see you⌠it seems the opposite. That makes you frown, this is not a mistake. You got in because of your own hard work!
âWhat. Like itâs hard?â Head tilted girlishly. Gracing him with a smile he doesnât really deserve right now. He blanches at you, absolutely speechless. Youâre just about to start up again when a hand slithers over his shoulder⌠a hand adorning a very massive diamond ring on it. Then she comes into view. Brunette. Preppy. Kind of plain. Sheâs wearing a tight smile as she squeezes her claws into his shoulder. âWhoâs this?â Eyes narrowed at you.
âOh this is a friend from collageâŚâ he offers quickly. What. The. Fuck. A friend?! Not the girl you were with intimately for 4 years up until very recently!
âThis is Vivian⌠my Fiancè.â The world stops. FiancĂŠ? Your mouth gapes eyes tracing between them urgently, surely this is a joke. He couldnât have moved on that quick⌠could he? Itâs only been a few months.
âO-oh well thatâs great! Iâve gotta get going, I don't want to be late on my first day.â Yeah fuck that you need to get out of there. Turning and strutting away with as much dignity as you could muster right now. Forcing the tears back. Letâs just focus on getting through the day and then later you can wallow in self pityâŚ
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Stumbling out into the open courtyard you spot a few benches near a big old oak tree, all but collapsing onto it. Bursting into tears your shoulders shake as you bury your head into your hands. Small sniffles leave you. Okay maybe Harvard is going to be harder than you first thought⌠On top of the crappy day youâre already having, your professor decided to chew you out in front of the whole class! How are you expected to just know things? On the first day? Youâre here to learn! A smooth masculine voice cuts through your internal turmoil like a beaming light.
âExcuse me. Are you okay?â Tear streaked face turning toward the voice. You open your mouth to reply and oh! Oh wow⌠Next to you is a man. Very tall. Lean. Broad shoulders. Long legs. Wearing a mouth-wateringly frame flattering dark suit. His hair is gorgeous. Short, well-kept, dark chocolate-brown hair. All wind swept and pushed back like heâd been running his fingers through it, a few stringy strands hanging over his forehead. And his eyes, oh my god they are mesmerising. Downturned puppy eyes that probably look perpetually tired. Chocolate gaze, so dark itâs nearly black. His brows furrowed slightly in concern. His cheekbones are to die for! And that nose. Is it Hawk or Roman? Doesnât really matter, you suppose. Itâs distracting either way!
Realising heâs waiting for your answer, âoh, um. Yeah. Do they put you on the spot like that all the time?â Your sniffles subsided a little. âThe professors? Yeah, they, they tend to do that. Socratic method.â He answers, mouth turning up slightly by the corner.
âSo if they donât like the answers, theyâll just kick you out?â You ask brows turning up.
âSo you have Stormwell, huh?â
âYes! Did she do that to you, too?â
Clearing his throat, âNo. But she did make me cry once. Not in class, I waited til I got back to my dorm⌠but sheâll kick you right in the ball- or wherever. But, yeah. Sheâs tough. Really tough.â Offering you a small smile.
âGreat.â
Turning to you he continues, âBut donât worry, it gets better. Who else do you have?â
âI have Callahan, Royalton, and Leviathal.â You offer softly.
âYeah.. letâs see, speak up in Callahanâs class. He really likes people who are opinionated.â
âOkay.â You nod along. Listening intently.
âAnd in Royaltonâs class⌠try to get a seat near the back. He tends to spit when he talks about product liability.â That causes a soft laugh to leave you, eyes crinkling. He smiles back at you softly. Itâs quiet for a moment. Just staring at each other.
âAnd, uh, for Leviathal, make sure you read the footnotes, cause thatâs where he gets a lot of his exam questions from.â
âRight. Wow. Iâm really glad I met youâ smile brighter now. This handsome stranger was being so nice⌠the first person to treat you with some kindness here. You give him a big grin that he mirrors. A comfortable silence stretches. Fall breeze. The sun is shining. Itâs nice.
âHey.â Someone tries to break the bubble. Completely unnoticed.
âAre you a third year?â You ask the nice stranger.
âWell-â heâs cut off abruptly.
âHey. Y/n.â Naoya.
Turning slowly. âUh, hi.â You answer wearily, having been rudely interrupted. âCan I help you Naoya?â He gapes slightly.
âI wanted to talk to youâŚâ he offers with a tight lipped smile, eyeing the handsome man next to you.
âOh well. Iâm good, but thank you. Iâm actually in the middle of something.â Leaving no room for argument you turn back to the man next to you. Smiling uncomfortably. Naoya just stands there for a minute, seething.
âIâm y/n by the way, and you areâŚ?â Smiling brighter now. He eyes the retreating Naoya, then turns back to you slightly confused.
âHiguruma, Hiromi.â You outstretch your manicured hand between you promoting him to shake your hand⌠his larger hand enveloping yours completely. Charming smile returning to his lips.
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Youâre catching the gawking stares of everyone you pass. âNice costume party.â You scowl at Vivian. Stood in the living room of some party she invited you to, under the guise that it was a costume party. It most certainly is not. While youâre all dolled up in a scandalous pink playboy bunny costume the rest of the party goers are in casual attire.
You thought you had made some progress with Vivian, turns out sheâs still a conniving little bitch thatâs out to get you. Although you do look good⌠hair half up, half down. Glowy makeup. Pink floppy bunny ears. Pink fishnets. Pink pumps⌠and of course the pink bunny outfit consisting of a corset and a fluffy little tail. Fine. If she wants to play games, youâll play games.
Ignoring her snickers and fake apology youâre off to find a drink. Upon arrival at the keg you hear another whistle in your direction - about to chew someone else out, you turn abruptly to find Naoya. Sly grin on his face as he takes you in, gaze dragging ever so slowly up your legs to your hips. Bouncing up to your breast looking⌠oh so delectable in that corset. Heâs all but salivating as he saunters right up into your personal space.
Hands slowly reach out itching to trail up your thighs. Heâs gripping your hips quite firmly then pressing himself flush against you. You slide back against the table behind you as he peers down your top at your chest. âFuck look at you pooh bear.â Voice dropping a few octaves, doing things to you still that it shouldnât - feelings donât just disappear after 4 years okay!
Giving your best doe eyed expression, looking up at him slowly. âWhy thank you. I tried.â And yes you did dress up⌠not exactly for him but, it feels good to have Vivian scowling at you after her decision to mess with you. And you know what youâre doing. Confidence in your attire because, who cares. Only thenâŚ
âMaybe we should slip away for a few minutes⌠reminisce on old times?â Naoya slimily suggests while kissing down your neck slowly. Right in front of his FiancĂŠe. Look you did want him back at first but definitely not via cheating? (Though you could argue that he probably cheated on you to begin with, that doesnât mean your morals align with his!)
âUgh get off.â Pushing him softly away from you. Giving him an incredulous look before storming away. Fuck this party and fuck that scumbag. Who does he think you are. First and foremost you are a girls girl! And I guess on the way home you could do with buying a laptop for class⌠seeing as youâre missing one.
Hands full of a large box, a throat clearing behind you causes you to turn your head⌠and what a surprise! There in line behind you stands none other than Higuruma. Seeing him glance at your outfit with a lifted brow. âDonât ask.â You offer with an eye roll, he smiles softly with an upturn of his hands. âWasnât gonna.â And though he was respectful, you couldnât help but notice his eyes linger on your legs for a moment. Now this attention is very wanted. And if he looked at your ass when you turned forward. So what?
After checking out you wait for him outside. Hoping to catch him for a chat or something⌠if only for the excuse to look at him a bit more. And ever the gentleman he is, he offers to walk you back to your building. âWouldnât want anything untoward happening to you in that outfit now, would we?â Heâd offered.
Itâs so nice just existing near him, seeing him around campus especially in Callahanâs class has been such a pleasure. Heâs always so nice to you even when other people arenât. He never judges and most times if you need help with class, heâs glad to assist. Heâs becoming a fast friend. Often found studying together in the library, or sat talking at the campus cafe. The lingering glances between you are just an added bonus.
âNot to pry but⌠where were you? Dressed up like that?â Eyeing you softly, â-you look great by the way.â That causes your cheeks to burn, hopefully itâs dark enough out that he doesnât notice.
âOh well, Vivian invited me to a costume party⌠but turns out it wasnât really a costume party.â Looking down at your feet thatâs slightly embarrassing to admit. You didnât have to tell him that! You couldâve said anything else.
A deep frown tugs his lips down, âit's okay though! At least I looked good.â
âThat you do. You know you donât have to put up with her treating you like that.â
âI know⌠I just want to be civil with her, I mean yes. I did want to steal her fiancĂŠe back but I donât want to hurt her you know? And heâs just so cruel. Y'know tonight he tried to get me to leave with him, in front of her!â Huffing at that memory, disgust clings to you very obviously as a shiver runs through you. He stops walking at that. Turning to him confused you find him with furrowed brows, soft crease between them. Mouth downturned. âHe didnât hurt you did he?â
âNo! Of course not, I left after that. It made me feel pretty icky though. Like seriously I canât believe I was with him that long, heâs kind of horrible.â That makes the man laugh. Tension dissipating into something softer.
A soft look takes over his features as he steps closer to you, âyou deserve so much more than that douche.â The way heâs looking at you causes tingles to shoot up your spine and heat to spread across your face. Probably very obvious now⌠his intense gaze holds something, you canât quite name.
âThank you Higuruma, thatâs very kind.â
âHiromi. Call me Hiromi.â
Gazes locked you can only nod, with the close proximity and the way heâs looking at you⌠thereâs not a thought in your mind except how handsome he looks right now. Haloed by the soft street lamps, gleaming hair falling over his face and thereâs a twinkle in his eye. The silence stretches but itâs not awkward, itâs just still. Calm. Like a breath of fresh air. Youâd probably be content staring at him for the rest of your life.
With Higurumaâs help and kindness that first day you met, classes have become much more bearable. He basically handed you the cheat codes! Stormwell has been very impressed with your progress. Pleased looks directed your way whenever you speak up during her lectures. And as it turns out⌠Higuruma actually TAâs for professor Callahan! Now you get to see him all the time in class. Youâve become closer? Almost friends youâd say. Which makes it less awkward when he catches you staring at him in Callahanâs lecturesâŚ
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âWell, yeah but without this manâs sperm, the child in question wouldnât exist.â Naoyaâs answer to professor Callahanâs problem has you itching for some reason. Next thing you know.. your hand shoots up. âYes, Ms. Woods?â
âAlthough Mr. Zenin makes an excellent point, I have to wonder if the defendant kept a thorough record of every sperm emission made throughout his life.â
âInteresting, why do you ask?â Callahan asks brows raised.
âWell, unless the defendant attempted to contact every single one-night stand to determine if a child resulted in those unions, he has no parental claim over this child whatsoever. So why now? Why this sperm?â
âI see your point.â Comes Callahanâs reply.
âAnd for that matter, all masturbatory emissions where sperm was clearly not seeking an egg could be termed as child abandonment.â Some snickers scatter around the room.
âI believe youâve just won your case.â Sounding impressed. The room goes silent.
After class Callahan stops you, âMs. Woods, you did well today.â
âReally?â Your pride swells. Positive affirmation really does wonders to the ego.
âYouâre applying for my internship, arenât you?â He looks up at you through his glasses.
âI donât know.â Would you even get in?
âYou should. Do you have a resume?â Oh my god!?
âYes, I do. Here it is.â Reaching through your bag for that piece of paper and handing it over animatedly. âItâs pink.â, âand itâs scented. I think it gives it a little something extra. Donât you think.â Smiling brightly before practically floating out of the room.
Turning to Hiromi, âDo you think she just woke up one day and said, âI think Iâll go to law school today?ââ
Chuckling a bit, âWell that lapse in judgement aside, I think sheâs got a lot of potential.â Callahan hands Hiromi the resume, âhere smell this.â Sniffing sceptically.
âWhat is that?â Admittedly it smells really fucking good. Something floral. Maybe a hint of citrus? âIt's her resume.â Smiling at that, âsmells good.â
Manicured hands shake slightly as you reach up to touch the list, trailing down to find⌠your name! âI got it!â Squealing slightly you turn to Vivian and Naoya, âOh, Naoya. Do you remember when we spent those four amazing hours in the hot tub after winter formal?â, biting his lip (ew), âYeah- No.â
âThis is so much better than that! Excuse me, I have some shopping to do.â
â⌠Four hours.â
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Youâre currently at Callahanâs law office going over the murder trail youâll all be assisting him on. Unfortunately Naoya and Vivian are here too⌠whatever this is your future you can ignore them.
The accused happens to be Brooke Taylor! A fellow Delta Nu although a few years ahead of you, and honestly a personal hero of yours. Her spin classes were amazing! Really transformed your lower body. Sheâs a genius⌠and an accused murderer apparently. After going on and on about how amazing she is, Callahan cuts in abruptly. âWell, in all likelihood, sheâs completely guilty as well. She was seen standing over her husband's dead body.â
Naoya adds in his two cents, âby who?â
âHis 26 year old daughter and the pool boy.â Then the meeting room door opens revealing a welcome sight. A bright smile takes over your face, a smile he mirrors as soon as he locks eyes with you. Quietly taking a seat. âSorry Iâm late, excuse me.â While talk continues in the room after his appearance, you canât help but shift your gaze to him every now and then. And every time you do youâre met with his magnetic chocolate gaze. You could get drunk off of that look.
Truthfully that happens a lot. The lingering glances. Or youâve just noticed it more recentlyâŚ
âThis is Higuruma Hiromi, another associate. Top three in his class, and former editor of âHarvard Law Reviewâ.â A small smile forms on his face, âthanks for the introduction.â
âSo what about the murder weapon?â
âThe gun is still missing. The coroner said heâd been dead 30 minutes when the cops arrived, giving Brooke plenty of time to stash it.â
A knot forms in your stomach. Sheâs not even here to defend herself, and professor Callahan has already deemed her guilty. âI just donât think Brooke couldâve done this. Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people donât just shoot their husbands. They just donât.â Callahan looks less than impressed with you after that. Hiromi though, you caught him smiling to himself.
âWhy would I kill my husband?â You know what? Prison orange may not be the best colour⌠but Brooke is totally pulling it off!
âInsurance, a love affair, pure unadulterated hatred. Believe me, the D.A. will come up with plenty of reasons.â Callahan sounds exhausted. âI loved him.â Sheâs seething.
âHe was 34 years older than you. That doesnât look so good to the jury.â
âShow them a picture of his dick. That might clear up a thing or two.â Everyone in the room chokes. Yes, girl, tell him.
Callahanâs been trying this whole visit to get Brookeâs alibi, which she wonât give. Positive you wonât need it to win this case. Once the meeting meets an impasse everyone starts filtering out. Youâre packing up when she calls out to you. âHeyâŚâ
âHi.â
âI know you.â She seems to be filing through her brain for an answer.
âIâm a Delta Nu, and a huge fan of yours.â Her grin comes easy, recognition flashing behind her eyes. âYou took my class.â, âWell thank god one of you has a brain.â
Youâre huddled up at the firm going over the case files, Hiromi beside you. Working diligently in silence. There are mountains of files and books scattered all about. Peeking at him from the corner of your eye. Heâs got⌠glasses on that elegant curve of his nose. God he looks so good. Thin black rectangular frames. Sliding down ever so slightly when heâs buried in a file. Absent-mindedly his fingers reach up to slide them back into place. Suit jacket long forgotten. His side of the table is coordinated chaos. Yours⌠well itâs a lot more interesting. Pink fully tipped pen fluffing about with your vigorous note-taking. Statements and files scattered around you⌠more flippantly.
Eventually he speaks up, baritone cutting through the frantic scribbling. âWell if Brooke didnât kill the guy who did?â Before anyone else you answer. âMy money's on the angry daughter or the ex wife.â The only issue with that is⌠his daughter has a hefty trust fund. What would be her reason for killing him? And the ex wife was away. We need to get that alibi.
âI brought you some necessities. Some Calvin Klein, 720 cut sheets, the entire Clinique skin care line, some aromatherapy candles, a loofah⌠oh! And the bible.â Enthusiastically presenting a glimmering cosmo magazine, cheesy grin on display. She smiles at you behind the visitor screen. Hand pressed up to the glass. âYouâre an angel.â
âSo how are you? Are you alright? You look so⌠orange.â
âIâm okay⌠Iâm just glad itâs you and not Callahan.â
âHe means well. Heâs very brilliant.â Scoffing at that, âHe better be for what Iâm paying for him.â
âBrooke I have to tell you the real reason I came here⌠we need your alibi.â Her face sinks. âYou donât understand I canât⌠itâs shameful⌠itâll ruin me.â
âHow?â
âIâve made my fortune on the ability to perfect womenâs bodies with Brookeâs Butt-Buster workout.â
âOh! I know! You helped me go down two sizes!â
âThatâs great! Um⌠okay, on the day of my husband's murder⌠I was getting âŚâ she mumbled inaudibly⌠âWhat?â
âI was getting liposuction.â Again she was too quiet over that stupid prison phone.
âHuh?â Then she just explodes, âLiposuction!â
âOh my god!â
âI know! Iâm a fraud! Itâs not like normal women can have this ass! If my fans knew that I bought it⌠I would lose everything! Iâve already lost my husband. Iâd rather go to jail than lose my reputation.â
âBrooke⌠your secretâs safe with me.â She softens at your kind tone. âThank you.â
After refusing to give up Brookeâs alibi. Callahan begrudgingly sent you and Hiromi off to visit the ex wife, at some spa sheâs decided to hide in.
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Hiromi offered to drive, so currently youâre sat in his passenger seat stealing glances at him. Soft radio in the background, sprawling trees surrounding the road youâre on. It's quite peaceful. Heâs focused on the road offering small comments to your enthusiastic yapping. Youâre sat cross legged skirt riding up slightly, turned in toward him. And if he knows youâre admiring his side profile or his grip on the wheel, heâs not mentioning it.
In turn you pretend not to notice when his burning gaze lingers on you. âYour work on this case has been very impressive, Callahan may not show it but heâs impressed. I am too.â He stays facing the road. Warmth flutters your chest at the praise. âThank you Hiromi, that means a lot.â Toothy smiles exchanged. Turning to change the radio station. You both reach for it at the same time, hands colliding. âOh- sorry.â
You go to retract your hand back when he reaches over to grasp your wrist. A startled look crossing your features when you turn to him. Hesitating a moment before gently releasing your wrist to brush his fingers up your palm, fingers sliding together gently before he intertwines them. A perfect fit. âIs this⌠okay?â His thumb rubs soothing circles to the top of your hand.
âItâs more than okay Romi.â You tighten your fingers around his. Taking in the feeling of his slightly hardened skin. Hand much larger than yours, completely enveloping yours in his gentle grasp. Blush dusting your cheeks when you meet his gaze. His eyes are kind, lips upturned. His face screams adoration. âRomi? Thatâs new.â His smile doesnât lessen, âyeah, do you⌠like it?â A breathy laugh leaves him and he just nods. He absentmindedly brings your joined hands up to rest against his chin, soft breath dusting over your knuckles. And every now and then a soft press of his lips lands there too. Itâs so gentle. Heâs so gentle. The rest of the ride is filled with soft glances and quiet conversation.
Eventually the conversation leads back to the case. Back to Brooke, âShe seems completely untrustworthy to me.â Your head tilts, âWhy?â
âThis is a person who made her living by telling women that theyâre too fat.â
âBrooke would never tell a woman she was too fat.â He hums.
âAnd she seems like sheâs hiding something.â
âMaybe itâs not what you think.â
âMaybe itâs exactly what I think.â
You face him with brows furrowed. âYou know, youâre being a butthead.â A burst of laughter leaves him. âA butthead? Why would you call me that?â An easy grin covering his face. Hand squeezing yours tighter.
âYou know, romi, you just need to have a little more faith in people. You might be surprised.â Humming softly. âI canât believe you just called me a butthead. I mean, no oneâs called me a butthead since about the ninth grade.â Murmuring, âmaybe not to your face.â Fondness flashes across his features.
⌠âSo I hear that little tart shot my ex husband.â Sheâs lounging without a cure in the world, face mask, on cucumber covering her eyes. The picture of relaxation. Hiromi answers first, âwell, thatâs what weâre actually trying to prove didnât happen.â
Cutting in gently, âdo you have any reason to believe that it did?â She removes the cucumber now peeking out at you, âIâve never actually met the woman before⌠but my daughter tells me she can be quite the little bitch.â Right. âDid your daughter ever mention anything about the relationship between Brooke and her husband?â
âWell, she did say that they humped like gorillas. I guess that wasnât enough, though, for Brooke.â Hiromiâs brows crease, âwhy do you say that?â
âWell⌠havenât you seen the cabana boy?â With that this conversation is over. On the way back to the car you pipe up. âSheâs lying.â
âAnd you know this for a fact?â Opening the passenger door for you, turning to meet his eye. âDid you see the icky brown colour of her hair?â His brows meet his hairline, closing your door before rounding the car. Buckling himself in, âSo? Now you discriminate against brunettes?â
âWhy shouldnât I? Iâm discriminated against as a blonde.â
âYou know, being a blonde is actually a pretty powerful thing. You hold more cards than you think you do. And I personally would like to see you take that power and channel it towards the greater good, you know?â He says it so assuredly, itâs emboldening. I guess he is right, you do get⌠more attention from your looks, why not use that attention. Make people listen past the colour of your hair.
The car comes to a halt in front of your building, âThanks. Iâll see you tomorrow.â Reaching for the handle. âAll right.â
He leans over to catch your gaze through the open door, âHey, how do you think Iâd look as a blonde, you know?â A single brow raises, mirth coating your tongue. âI donât think you could handle it.â Fluttering your fingers in a wave. âBye.â
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The courtroom is full. Perfectly polished tapered suits, conservative button ups and pencil skirts galore. Witness testimonies beginning today, first is the deceasedâs daughter; Miss Windham, on the stand. Answering the district attorneyâs questions.
âAnd where was she exactly?â Leaning into the mic, eyes locked on Brooke. âStanding over my fatherâs dead body.â
The ex wife is next. âAnd where was she exactly?â
âWell, she was sitting next to the pool, topless, while the Latin boy handed her a drink.â
The pool boy, âMr. Salvatore, can you tell us what this is?â Holding up a tiny leopard print speedo. He leans in smirking, âMy uniform.â
âThis is the⌠uniform Mrs. Windham asked you to wear while cleaning her pool?â He leans in again, slowly. âYes.â
âAnd, are you not having an affair with Brooke Windham?â
âDefine âaffair.ââ Oh how you want to slap the smug freaking look off of his face right now!
The D.A. Continues, âHave you and Mrs.Windham had sexual relations?â
âYes. Okay, yes.â With that the court concludes, until 9am the following day. Brooke is absolutely seething when she approaches you, âYou know a Delta Nu would never sleep with a man who wears a thong.â Nodding along, âNever!â, âI just liked watching him clean the filter.â She offered solemnly.
âI know, I believe you, Brooke.â
âTake care of me, y/n.â And sheâs ushered away by the court Marshall.
âI will.â
The next day, when court is let out for a quick recess. Youâre on your way to the water fountain in the hallway needing some refreshment. Upon approach youâre rudely cut off by the pool boy. Arms crossing over your plush chest, heel tapping rapidly waiting for an apology. He takes a long drink. When heâs done he turns, eyeing you up and down.
âDonât stop your little last-season Prada shoes at me, honey!â Oh! How dare he. These are so NOT last season! Scoffing at him as he struts away⌠a sudden gasp escapes you. Running back into the courtroom. Skirting to a stop before the defence table.
âRomi! Heâs gay! Enrique is gay!â Callahan turns to you.
âWhat?â Hiromi offers, utterly confused with your sudden outburst. Turning to Naoya, âNaoya, what kind of shoes are these?â
ââŚBlack ones.â Spinning back to Hiromi, âsee!â
Callahan blanches at you, âwhat are you talking about?â
âHeâs gay. He isnât Brookeâs lover, he's making it up.â Hiromi turns you to him gently, hands on your shoulders, âWait, back up. How do you know heâs gay?â
Huffing, âGay men know designers. Straight men donât.â Brooke snaps her fingers pointing at you, âKnow what? He did leave a Cher tape in the pool house one time.â
Callahan having reached his limit interjects. âWhile I appreciate your masterful legal theory, I have a murder trial to attend to. Hiromi?â
âOkay. Iâll take care of it. Thanks.â Offering a guilty smile your way. âOkay.â
Callahan proceeds to question the pool boy, completely ignoring your astute observation. Asking questions that do not help Brooke in any way! âDo you have any proof of your affair with Mrs. Windham?â
âOnly the love in my heart.â
âWell, if that is the only evidence he has, your honour, I think Iâm done.â
âYou may step down-â Hiromi stands, shooting you a subtle wink. âActually. Iâd like to ask a couple of questions, your honour.â He approaches a very unhappy looking Callahan, âJust give me a couple minutes.â At his reluctant nod, Hiromi approaches to question the pool boy.
âDid you ever take Mrs. Windham on a date?â
âYes.â
âWhere?â
âA restaurant in Concord where no one could recognise us.â
âHow long have you been sleeping with Mrs. Windham?â
âThree months.â
âAnd your boyfriendâs name?â
âChuck.â Nodding solemnly, Hiromi starts to back away, âRight.â Going to sit down, you smile at him mouthing a thank you. The courtroom erupts.
Enrique realising what just happened. Wide eyed. Jaw on the floor, âWait! Pardon me.â Hiromi turns back around, âyes, Mr. Salvatore?â
âI was con- I was confused. I thought you said friend! Chuck is just a friend.â
A deliciously well dressed man stands suddenly from the courtroom benches, âYou bitch!â The room gasps as he storms out the doors. âChuck! Wait!â
Banging ensues, âSilence in my court!. Mr. Salvatore, sit down.â Hiromi turns to you leaning in conspiratorially, grin gracing his dark features. âThanks.â Not only did he show you he trusts you, he also showed Callahan that youâre not to be ignored. You donât think anyone has ever stood up for you the way he just did⌠and at the jeopardy of himself.
âOh, y/n, Callahan asked to see you before you leave.â Vivian calls, carrying a world record amount of papers, âreally?â
âYeah, you know, he already has his coffee, but maybe he needs a doughnut.â Snorting, âdo you need any help?â Gesturing to her full hands. âNo, Iâm fine. Thank you though.â
Approaching his door you knock and wait for a reply. âCome on in.â
Entering the dim office you leave the door slightly ajar, heâs sat in a leather single seat with papers scattered around the coffee table ahead, gesturing to the leather couch next to him. âTake a seat.â Flattening the back of your skirt as you lower yourself down.
âIs everything all right?â He sets his papers aside. âYou followed your intuition today, and you were right on target. I should have listened.â
âThank you.â
âAbout the alibiâŚâ ringing your hands, âIâm sorry-â
âIâm impressed you took the initiative to go get it. Thatâs what makes a good lawyer. And, on top of that, you gained the clients trust and kept it. Thatâs what makes a great lawyer. Youâre smart, y/n, smarter than most of the people on my payroll.â Pride swells in your chest. âWow.â
âI think itâs time to discuss your career path.â He gets up and slowly approaches you, sitting⌠very close to you. So close your legs arenât just touching theyâre practically squished together, his breath is fanning across your cheek. âHave you thought about where you might be a summer associate?â
âOh, um, not really. I know itâs very competitiveâŚâ
âWell, you know what competitionâs really about, donât you? Itâs about ferocity, carnage. Balancing human intelligence with animal diligence. Knowing exactly what you want⌠and how far youâll go to get it. How far will you go?â His words turned sultry as he went on. His slimy paw dropping to your knee slowly gliding up. Absolute horror takes over you. Fight or flight taking over, hitting his hand away and scrambling to your feet.
âAre you hitting on meâŚ?â He doesnât seem too concerned with your sudden reaction, slimy gaze tracking you. âYouâre a beautiful girl.â The reality of the situation comes crashing down upon you.
âSo everything you just saidâŚâ a carnivorous grin turns his face dark, âIâm a man who knows what he wants.â
Straightening, âAnd Iâm a law student who just realised her professor is a pathetic asshole.â Turning to storm out, âToo bad, I thought you were a law student who wanted to be a lawyer!â
Rushing to the elevator your hands are shaking trying to hit the buttons. Face pale with tears starting to fall. When the doors open youâre scrambling to leave as fast as humanly possible. Bumping into a wall of lean muscle, you try desperately to avoid his gaze so he doesnât see your tear streaked face. Silently his hand reaches out, turning your face up gently. His calm demeanour cracking.
âSweetheart, whatâs wrong?â Sniffling trying to avoid his too soft gaze, âIâm quitting.â Face furrowing in confusion, fingers feather light as he wipes your tears away cupping your face in his strong hands. âWhy? What happened?â
âLaw school was a mistake. This whole internship was a mistake.â Shoulders starting to shake violently.
âWhat are you talking about? you earned it.â Gripping his wrists as if your life depends on it.
âI didnât earn anything, Romi! Callahan only gave me that internship because he liked the way I looked. Which he made very clear tonight when he tried to feel me up.â His fingers twitch, face hardening. Not at you, never at you. Voice strained, holding back. âWhat? Callahan did what?â
âJust forget about it. Iâm going back home. No more boring suits. No more pantyhose. No more trying to be something that Iâm just⌠Iâm just not.â Youâre pressed flush against his sturdy chest so suddenly it almost gives you whiplash. A hand cradling your head there, another strong arm curling around your waist protectively. And you just break apart in his steady hold as he holds you. âHow about I take you home.â Nodding through your sobs he guides you out to his car, strong arm wrapped around your shoulder keeping you steady.
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âAre you going to be okay?â His soft voice cuts through the silence. Still sitting in the car, parked outside your building. âI donât know⌠could you- could you come in for a bit?â Tear soaked eyes, lashes fluttering, glossy lips turned down into the sweetest frown, how could he say no?
Your door shuts softly behind him as you move to clear some space. Flicking on your bedside lamp to illuminate the room in a soft orange hue, pink tassels of your lamp shade creating a gentle ambiance. Hands shaking trying to move textbooks off of your plush pink sofa. His fingers curl around your wrist pulling you soft into him again. Chin resting on your head, fingers softly brushing through your hair. âHoney, why donât I do that? Why donât you just go get ready for bed, hmm?â An airy sigh leaves you at the feeling of his fingers running through your hair. Nodding he leaves a small kiss to your hairline before you walk off to get sorted.
Freshening up in your little bathroom. Face washed. Teeth brushed. Skincare done. You step back out to find him settled into your sofa, blazer folded neatly over the hand-rest his tie lost on the table somewhere. Looooong legs stretched out in front of him, head resting back on the sofa⌠his neck exposed presenting the delicious bob of his Adam's apple. Your heart stutters. He looks so relaxed.
Hearing the door open he peeks an eye open to find you, leaning against the doorframe. Cute fluffy pink socks, tiny leopard print cotton shorts⌠baby pink tank top. The neckline leaves little to the imagination. Youâre trying to kill him, he's sure of it. Your gaze is softlidded. No longer tear soaked, still slightly puffy. The corner of his mouth lifts, arm coming up to beckon you over, âcâmere sweetheart.â Oh wow. His voice is deep, laced with sleep. Deep eyes tracking your movements. If your thighs clench subtly⌠well he doesnât mention it.
Sitting next to him, his open arm wraps protectively around your shoulder pulling you flush against his side. Collapsing into him. Head pressed against his admittedly plush chest you wrap your arm across his stomach. Breasts pressed flush against his side, cheek squishing comfortably into his pecs. His hand runs up and down your arm in a soothing motion, goosebumps erupting on your skin. Your other hand sliding up his broad back to lay your palm flat between his shoulder blades, pressing in. You could feel him shiver at the movement.
Once you settle in, a dreamy sigh escapes you, eyes fluttering shut. Legs curled up against his lap. His scent washes over you⌠he smells so masculine. Earth and spice with a subtle hint of something citrus. Youâre breathing him in like a drug. âYou smell good.â Comes your mumble, spoken into his chest. You can feel the rumble under your check as he hums in acknowledgment. Breaths slow down as you find comfort in each other's warmth.
Rousing slowly as the early morning light peeking in through the blinds, filters across your vision. Lifting your head softly realising itâs still resting on a sturdy chest. A hand curled around your waist and another placed firmly over your lower back, splayed fingers just grazing the soft plush of your ass. And, oh. Peeking up through droopy lashes, to see Hiromi sleeping peacefully. Chest rising and falling softly, hair mussed from sleep.
He looks so pretty with the soft light filtering in, fanning across his cheeks. Raising slowly trying not to wake him, you move to get off. Only for a sudden weight against your back to press you back down. Firm palm splaying across your shoulder blades. Heâs peeking down at you now, eyes swirling with warmth. Lips turned up. âGâmorning.â His voice is thick with sleep. âMorning.â You whisper back.
âAre you feeling better?â His palms move to caress your waist gently, feather light touches that make you shiver. âI am. Thank you, for staying with me Romi.â And itâs true youâd all but forgotten what had happened in Callahanâs office. His gentle presence was exactly what you needed. Need. Sitting up slightly you press your forehead to his, your sweet gaze meeting his searching. Fondness all you can find.
His hands find your hips, fingers pressing in, kneading the flesh. When his gaze finally flickers down to your plush lips you lean in. Hands splayed over his cheeks. Pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He hums at your taste. Palms squeezing your hips now. Pulling back you move to pepper appreciative kisses over his face. Starting right next to his mouth, his cheeks, his forehead and finally his nose. When you pull back his lips are slightly ajar, brows fanning up and his cheeks are dusted a light pinkâŚ
âGod, youâre so cute.â Reaching up to you, he grips the nape of your neck. Firmly pulling you back to his lips, kiss more sure now. Noses bumping every so often. Soon youâre shuffling down to settle your hips flush against his, pressing down firmly. Pulling a low groan from the back of his throat. When you eventually part for breath, a glistening string of saliva connects you together.
Youâre both panting at the lack of air. You roll your hips once, experimentally watching for his reaction. Seeing his eyes blow out, chocolate being slowly replaced by black pools of lust. Large hands moving to grasp your hip and upper back he sits up slowly with you splayed across his lap. Knees bracketing his slender hips. Soft thighs pressed flush to his meatier ones. Your manicured hands sliding over his chest slowly, appreciatively. Eventually coming to a stop on his rounded shoulders. Large hands sliding down to cup under your upper thighs.
You just sit there admiring one another quietly for a good while. Hungry gazes tracing over every inch of each other. Moving your hands up his neck to glide your fingers through his soft chocolate locks. âYouâre really pretty RomiâŚâ youâre admitting, voice breathy and lust hazed. A soft huff leaves him, âYeah?â Nodding enthusiastically, his smile deepens. Eyes softening.
âI think youâre the pretty one. Beautiful actually. Not just that youâre sweet⌠intelligent, determined. I think you might be the most genuine person Iâve ever met.â His fingers come up to brush hair out of your face, caressing your cheeks. They heat up under his touch. Stars in your eyes. âRomi?â
âHmm?â Heâs staring at your lips now.
âI think⌠I might be falling seriously in love with you.â His grin is blinding. Eyes locking on yours with laser focus. âI think Iâve been in love with you since the day we met.â Heâs admitting sincerely. Scrambling off his lap your knees hit the carpet with a thud. Hands flying to his zipper⌠only he grabs your wrists to stop you? âSweetheart⌠you donât have to.â
âRomi, please. I want you.â Your eyes are pleading⌠and how could he say no? He nods softly, then releases your hands. Letting you reach up to slowly unbutton and slide his zipper down. He lifts his hips to help you shimmy his slacks down his thighs, letting them pool down past his knees. Fingers tracing the band of his boxers.
Snagging and snapping them back into place. Doe eyes leading up at him through thick lashes. You trace your fingers across to his⌠prominent bulge. Dragging your nails teasingly over his throbbing veins through the fabric. Earning soft, drawn out groans from the man above you the closer you get to his leaky tip. Music to your ears. He sounds so pretty and breathy.
Palm slipping across the soft fabric of his boxers. Slowly palming his bulge earning a few dewy drops of pre. Completely entranced with the sight. His hand comes down to your chin bringing your face up to look at him. And oh. Heâs damn near salivating. Eyes blown. Lips parted. And finally after what feels like forever he leans down to press a sloppy kiss against your lips. Mouths parting to taste one another. His tongue poking out to tease your lower lip. Meeting him halfway you slide your tongue over his, tasting him. Eager moans mingling together. Parting from him reluctantly, to return to your earlier task.
Sliding his boxers down his hips to release his cock. Oh and it springs up so angry⌠pretty pink flushed tip dribbling. His length was one thing, counting 7⌠8⌠maybe even 9 inches⌠but his girth. Heâs just soooo thick from the pudge of his mushroom tip to the⌠thick circumference of his cock. A prominent vein runs down the underside of his length, begging for attention. Trembling fingers reach out to teasingly draaaaagggg a nail along that pulsing vein. His cock jumps at the contact. Your thighs press together, only now noticing the slick collecting at your center.
Lightly circling your fingers around to trace a thumb over his leaking tip. Bringing your face down, lips connecting with his tip. A needy sound erupts from him at the sight. Eyes following your every move. Looking up deep into his eyes beginning to leave small kisses over his tip. Smearing another drop of pre over them⌠creating the perfect sticky gloss. His mouth hangs when your tongue licks a fat stripe up; following along his prominent vein all the way up to his engorged tip, closing your mouth around it and sucking gently. His hand flies to the back of your head, caressing. Head thrown back with loud drawn out groans escaping him. âFuck, baby. That feels so good⌠donât stop.â
Hanging your maw open tongue lolling out over his tip, letting hot saliva spill down over him. Your left hand goes to his thigh, the right gripping his base and squeezing your fingers. Then moving to slowly pump him, coating him in your saliva. Wrist twisting closer to his tip, fingers meeting tighter at his base, setting a steady pace. Making sure to give his leaking tip ample attention. Between flicks of your wrist you leave an array of filthy kisses and soft sucks. His moans are downright filthy. His eyes glazed over, vision moving erratically between your pretty face and your increasing pumps of his cock. His jaw just hangs open letting his groans spill out freely, only spurring you on. Itâs then he notices the movement of your hips below him. Rolling back and forth over nothing but air, thighs squeezed tight desperately seeking some friction.
Youâre in a world of your own absolutely drunk on the taste of him, head bobbing shallowly over his angry tip. Tongue tracing sultry lines up and down his sensitive slit. Eagerly swallowing every drop of pre you can get your greedy tastebuds on. A particularly harsh suck from you has him groaning out unashamedly, âF-fuck, baby. You should stop soon or Iâm gonna cum- oh my god!â Right as he says that your left hand comes down to softly cup and roooollll his tightening balls between your clammy fingers. Giving them a firm squeeze. And that does it. Heâs bowing forward completely boneless. Mouth dropping soundlessly. Hips jerking with every spurt of cum shooting up into your awaiting maw. Pumping thick ropes onto your tongue to slide down the back of your throat. You greedily suck down every drop, pumps slowing down to ease him through his high. Easing off to gently suck on his twitchy tip. Until the stimulation becomes too much and he has to pull you off of him. Chest rising and falling rapidly, sweat coating his hairline. Heavy pants leaving him as he takes you in. Swollen, glossy, cum soaked lips. Eyes swirling with lust, drool coating your chin, cheeks flushed so pretty. Watching you loll your tongue out to show him the mess you made of him before swallowing the rest of it alllll down.
Pulling you up to him for a heated kiss, groaning out between licks into your mouth. Tasting the salty remnants of his spent on you, âFuck. Sweetheart. That was incredibleâŚâ when you pull back you give him the biggest toothy grin you can muster right now. âRomi⌠that was so hot. Was that okay?â He splutters.
âOkay?? That was probably the best head Iâve ever had.â, yeah way to boost a girl's ego alright. Fingers curling around your arms heâs dragging you up to stand. Hands splaying over your hips, gently rubbing up and down, eyeing the embarrassingly obvious wet patch on the front of your shorts. Big fingers moving down to trace your mound over those tiny shorts, dipping down to lightly caress your folds through the slick material. Your hips twitch at the lingering touch. So close to where you need it. He guides your hands to grip his shoulders. Leaving a soft kiss to your wrist before his hands trail back down. Fingers itching at your waistband. Downturned gaze flicking up to ask permission that you eagerly grant; head nodding enthusiastically.
Fingers dipping into the hem of your sticky shorts, sliding them down your soft legs. Promoting you with a light tap to your calf to lift your feet out of them. Theyâre flung somewhere across the room. Now heâs eye level with your sticky panties. Which leave nothing to the imagination with the way your slick has them sticking to every nook, cranny and fold. He groans lowly at the sight. Palms molding to your legs as he slides them up, up, up. Cupping the underside of your ass appreciatively. Pulling you closer to his face. And just⌠pressing his nose into the front of your mound inhaling your sweet scent. Pulling a lewd moan from somewhere deep in your chest.
Heâs dropping to his knees in front of you. Not caring for the sickening crack against the floor. Eyes locked on your soaked panty covered center. His hands slide over your hips to grip the waistband, your hands flying up to grip his hair threading your fingers through the silky locks at his nape. Heâs pressing lingering kisses on whatâs already exposed; lower stomach, across to your right hip, the left⌠to the very top of your mound. Then heâs pulling your panties off of you slowly, eyes locked on the way they stick and unstick from your dribbling folds. The warm puffs of breath leaving his nose zap your folds, he chuckles low at the shiver you let out. Chocolate gaze swirling over every exposed inch. âSheâs so pretty, baby.â Heâs mouthing into your thighs. Leaving slow, lingering kisses to each⌠dangerously close to your center. His left hand draggggging up from your calf to the back on your knee, lifting your leg to fit snugly over his shoulder.
Exposing you fully to his hungry gaze. And he just stares. Fingers coming up delicately to graze through your folds, collecting slick as he goes. The lightest touch of his fingertips gently spreading you open to expose your puckering hole in all her glory winking to him. Trailing his fingers up to your pulsing bud at the apex heâs just dying to get his mouth on⌠he nuzzles in nose first against your slick bud. Nudging it back and forth gently. Pressing harder against it. Heâs eliciting soft mewls from you. Your toes curl in anticipation. âRomi⌠please. Donât tease.â You plead, sounding so gone already, tone mewling and breathy.
He pulls back to lock eyes with you. A loud whine escapes from you at the loss of contact. Thatâs when he really dives in. Long tongue darting out to maze between your folds greedily, head knocking into your thighs through his vigor. Tongue flattening out to drag torturously all the way from your winking hole up to your twitchy little clit begging for attention. His lips lock on granting you a few gentle sucks before rolling the slick tip of his tongue round n round in tight circles over your increasingly sensitive nub. Alternating between sharp and soothing sucks, driving you absolutely mad. Tears spring from your eyes, mouth dropping open to mewl out obscenely at the sight of his eyes rolling back from the sharp, sweet taste of you absolutely drenching his face. Heâs humming encouragingly whenever sharp moans of his name leave you. Sending filthy vibrations through your clit that reach down into the depths of your heat.
âRomiiiii. Oh my god!â Youâre slobbering out the words between sharp gasps. Mind blank. Unable to focus on anything other than the way heâs devouring you. The feel of his fingers digging into your thighs. Reaching around to hold your folds open for him as he trails that vulgar tongue down to maddeningly circle your hole. Nose pressed flush to your sensitive clit, bumping softly with the rolls of your hips over his eager maw. A sharp squeal rips from you when he slides his thick muscle into your hole, swirling it around to open you up. Heâs paying extra attention to the gummy spot along the front wall of your heat. Rubbing his tip up and down with the perfect pressure making you see stars. âShiiiittt. Romi right there, donât stop.â Youâre sobbing out. Feeling the warm pressure building. Blooming from deep within.
Your lithe fingers curl into his hair now tugging harshly⌠pulling a deeeeeppp groan from his chest. Your legs start shaking from deep within the muscles, head thrown back, eyes reaching the back of your skull. He rips your orgasm from deep within you. Continuing through your high to flick his muscle against that gummy spot inside you. Groaning out as your walls cling desperately to him, nose continuously nuzzling your buzzing clit back and forth. Guiding you softly now through the waves of your high. Until your mewls and whines reach a higher pitch and your poor shaking hands are trying to rip him away. Muscles tensing viciously with over sensitivity.
Conceding he slowly pulls his tongue out of your hole to lick up every drop of your release. Cleaning you softly between your over sensitive jolts against his drenched jaw. Parting with a final feather light kiss to your overworked clit his eyes gleam up at you. He gently sets your leg back on solid ground, hands holding you steady on shaky legs. Leaning down and carefully grabbing hold of his face, youâre leaning in for another filthy kiss. His mouth slick with the taste of you mingling with your combined saliva.
Youâre tugging on his rumpled button up urging him to take it off. Bringing you both back up to full height heâs backing you up to your plush pink covered bed, knees hitting the edge youâre falling back with a bounce. Your gaze drags up his torso watching his buttons go one by one. Exposing his broad, tanned chest to you bit by bit. Itâs a mouth-watering sight. Heâs a lot ⌠thicker? Then you expected. All lean muscle sure but god he was defined. Toned slender stomach⌠thick arms you just wanted to dig your teeth into.
His boxers go next thrown over his shoulder as he eyes you up, legs spread awaiting the welcomed weight of him. His knees hit the mattress and heâs crawling up over you, thumbs catching the bottom of your tiny shirt eagerly dragging it up and over your head. Tits spilling out deliciously for his greedy gaze. Palms sliding down to cup the underside of them, lifting slightly, pressing them together. Palms splayed wide over the side of your ribs, thumbs roving over your tits to brush over your pert nipples. Ripping a soft moan from you at the delicate touch.
Your legs move to brush against his hips urging him to press his weight fully down onto you. Enticing him to split you open. Heâs taking his time. Teasing your sensitive nipples. Your needy little hole is just pulsing, urging him to finally fill it. âRomi please!â Tears filling your eyes, thrashing against the sheets, pure need taking over your fuzzy brain.
âI know baby⌠you need me bad huh? Needy little cunt canât wait?â Your brain scrambles, nodding and whimpering up at him. Tears are threatening to fall harder now. With a hum he grabs the base of his cock and drags the tip up and down your soggy folds, bumping into your clit. He taps his tip meanly over your jolting nub before heâs guiding his tip back down, snagging it on your tight ring of muscle.
Pressing his lips to yours tenderly, before he slowly presses his tip past that first tight ring of muscle. Swallowing down your gasps greedily. Forehead pressed to yours, heâs looking down between your bodies. Grunting at the resistance of your tight hole. Reaching down between your bodies to slowly rub his thumb in loving little circles over your clit, peppering kisses down your jaw. Trying to ease you open. Feeling your hole flutter and give, he presses in barely another inch. Continuing to slowly ease you open on his cock, fingers and lips working to distract your mind as the effect it has on your body helps him finally press his pubic bone flush against you. Shared satisfied groans leave you both upon finally feeling every inch of each other. His throbbing length combined with those delicious pulsing veins feel heavenly, a deep sigh leaving you. Your twitching walls greedily sucking his length in. âSo fucking tight baby, oh my god.â
âFeels so good, romi⌠so full.â Reaching down between your bodies pressing your palm against your lower stomach and⌠feeling him there. Bulging out of you. Pressing down softly. Broken moans leave you both instantly. But when he starts moving⌠thick pulsing inches pulling back slowly until just the fat tip remains. Then heâs pushing forward torturously slowly dragging himself through your plush walls, you feel everything. Every inch. Every pulsing vein. The light smack of his balls tapping against your skin. Itâs maddening. Your walls mould to the shape of him.
He moves his hands to pin your hips down. His thrusts remain slow and deep. Cock filling you tenderly. Itâs slow and sensual -loving- but then he starts grinding his hips deeeeep into you. Probing around gently with his tip to find that special spot. Watching every expression crossing your face. Then suddenly heâs angling his hips upwards and pulling the most pornographic sounds out of you. Your hands fly up to clutch his biceps, fingertips digging in to find some purchase while your back arches up into him so sluttily. âOhhh yeah, right there? That feel good baby?â His tone teasing, eyes locking on the sight of him protruding your lower stomach. Mouth hanging open. Watching the bulge appear and disappear completely entranced. Your walls cling onto him pulling long drawn out groans from his open maw. His hands are moving to grip your legs now, moving them to rest on his shoulders.
Changing the angle when he sits back, leaning on his haunches. His strong grip on your legs when he repositions causes your hips to rise up off the bed. Suspended in his hold. Squealing when his next experimental thrust hits your sweet spot dead on. Heâs turning his head to kiss your ankle tenderly. Pulling your focus to him. A charming smile beamed down at you.
Repositioning his arms to wrap securely around your knees pressing the backs of your legs flush against his chest. âReady?â Heâs asking softly between more peppered kisses against your ankle. â⌠yes?â With the leverage of his position he starts pounding into you. Hips swaying back and forth easily in his position, able to angle his hips to thrust deep up into your sweet spot. Your hands scramble to claw at the comforter below you needing something to ground. Hiromi alternates between deep thrusts into your sweet spot and burying himself to the hilt grinding into you, trim hairs at his public bone rubbing deliciously into your neglected clit. The bed creaks lewdly below you⌠surely alerting others of your early morning activities. Not that either of you are trying to be quiet.
His pace starts to increase, sweat coating your bodies now, the stench of sex so strong itâs heady. Intoxicating. You can feel your body exploding with heat, starting deep in your core and spreading rapidly. You start grabbing at his wrists needing to feel him close. Mewling out. Pleading with your eyes. He seems to get the message when he lets you drag him down toward your face. Legs stuck between you folding you in half as you get your greedy paws on his face, bringing him down for a needy kiss. Jaw hanging open around your moans, his cock is pressing so tight into every nook and cranny from this angle. Lathering him with filthy open mouth kisses and he folds you further into a mean mating press. Heâs hitting into you so deep now you can feel him kissing your womb with every hard knock of his gooey tip.
Youâre gasping into him now. Meeting his eyes, brows curved up in pleasure, eyes glassy. His hands are splayed out beside your head, hips curving into your heat swiftly, breathing erratic. He can feel your gummy walls pulsing faster, vice grip threatening to trap his swollen cock any second. Reaching between you he starts strumming expertly on your clit, groaning out as he feels how much itâs fluttering under his fingertips. His hips are starting to stutter thrusts becoming erratic, veins throbbing against your walls rapidly now. And youâre crying out. âRomiii! Iâm so close... Gonna cum!â With a few more tight circles against your clit and perfectly aimed thrusts to your sweet spot. Youâre convulsing around him.
Tight cunt locking around his cock so hard he can barely move, hips thrashing under him violently. Your eyes disappear into your skull, and the highest pitch squeal erupts out of you. He coaxes you through it, littering kisses across your face. Hands rubbing your hips soothingly. Hips rolling softly through each wave of your high. Until your breaths start to flow out less sporadic and your eyes find him again. âYou did so good, sweetheart.â Heâs cooing down at you, his voice cracking in time with his stuttering hips.
âYou gonna cum romi?â He doesnât need to answer, his cock is jumping inside you. âWanâ it in me. Please romi⌠want you to cum in me.â You're slurring out. âOh, fuck!â Heâs croaking out, giving a few final thrusts before heâs pressing flush against you. Spurting his gooey cum deep in you. Coating your walls in him. His stomach twitching with the intensity of his orgasm, thrusting shallowly until his tip is dribbling. Legs wrapped tightly around him, letting him come down buried in you. He collapses onto you, hefty weight welcomed. Melting into each other finally spent. You meet for another soft kiss.
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âYouâre fired. I have new representation.â Callahan guffaws at Brooke. âWho?â Turning to find⌠you. âExcuse you, youâre in my way.â
âSheâs a law student. She canât defend you.â Clearing your throat , cue David reading; Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court ruling 3.03.
âSee? Thank you, David.â
âCounselors, approach the benchâŚâ turning, Callahan tries to stop you. âYouâre not going up there.â
âOh, yes, I am.â
âY/n Woods, your honour. Rule 3.03 of the Supreme Judicial Court states that a law student may appear on behalf of a defendant in criminal proceedings.â Callahan ever the party pooper cuts in, âIâm not allowing it.â
Turning so sweetly to him, âBut you agreed last night⌠in your office when we discussed my career.â Sweet smile gracing your lips.
âThe ruling also states that you need a licensed attorney to supervise you. Mr. Callahan?â
âThat I wonât agree to.â
Hiromi interjects, âUh, Iâll supervise, your honour.â And with that itâs settled. You will be defending Brooke. The first person to be cross examined by you would be⌠the deceasedâs daughter. Miss Windham.
âMiss. Woods, you may begin questioning.â
Wow thereâs a lot of people here⌠and Brooke is now depending on you, the nerves set in instantly. âUm, first of all I would like to point out that there is no proof in this case, but there is a complete lack of mens rea which by definition tells us there can be no crime without a viscous will.â
âI am aware of the meaning of mens rea. What Iâm unaware of is why youâre giving me a vocabulary lesson when you should be questioning your witness.â
âYes, your honour, um⌠Miss Windham, when you arrived back at the house, was your father there?â
âNot that I saw, but like I said, I went upstairs to take a shower.â She looks so smug.
âAnd when you came downstairs, what happened?â
âI saw Brooke standing over his body, drenched in his blood.â
âBut Mrs. Windham didnât have a gun?â
Leaning in smirking she speaks clearly into the mic. âNo. Sheâd stashed it by then.â
Hiromi interjects, âmove to strike that from the record, your honour. Itâs speculation.â
âSo stricken.â Turning to Hiromi with an anxious look on your face, he nods, urging you to go on.
âMiss Windham, did you hear a shot fired?â
âNo. I was in the shower.â
âOkay, so, some time in the 20 minutes that you were in the shower, your father was shot.â Trying to piece together a story that just doesnât fit.
âI guess.â
âYour father was shot while you were in the shower, but you didnât hear the shot because⌠because you were in the shower?â Why does that seem wrongâŚ
Scoffing, she leans in, âYes. I was washing my hair.â
âWhere is she going with this?â Hiromiâs second chair asks,
âHave a little faith, Gerard.â
Looking back at the papers available, âUm, Miss Windham, what had you done earlier in the day?â
She answers dryly, âI got up, got a latte, went to the gym, got a perm, and came home.â
Bingo. Turning back to her approaching slowly, âWhere you got in the shower?â
âI believe the witness has made it clear that she was in the shower.â Laughs erupt around the courtroom. âYes, your honour. Um, Miss Windham, had you ever gotten a perm before?â
âYesâŚ?â
âHow many would you say?â
âTwo a year since I was 12. You do the math.â
Continuing, âYou know, a girl in my sorority, Tracy got a perm once? We all tried to talk her out of it. Curls werenât a good look for her, she didnât have your bone structure. But, thankfully, that same day, she entered the Beta Delta Pi wet t-shirt contest, where she was drenched head to toe.â
âObjection! Why is this relevant?â
Turning to the judge pleadingly, âI have a point. I promise.â
âThen make it.â
âYes, maâam. Um, Miss Windham, why is it that Tracyâs curls were ruined when she got her hair wet?â
âBecause they got wet?â She bristles slightly.
âExactly. Because isnât it the first cardinal rule of perm maintenance that youâre forbidden from getting your hair wet for at least 24 hours after getting a perm at the risk of deactivating the ammonium thioglycolate?â Her eyes widened visibly. âY-yes.â
âAnd wouldnât somebody whoâs had, say, 30 perms in their life be well aware of this rule? And if in fact you werenât washing your hair as I suspect you werenât, because your curls are still intact, wouldnât you have heard the gunshot? And if in fact you had heard the gunshot, Brooke Windham wouldnât have had enough time to hide the gun downstairs before you got there, which would mean you would have had to have found Mrs. Windham with a gun in her hand to make your story plausible. Isnât that right?â Hand propped up on your cocked hip, staring her down. And she just breaksâŚ
She bursts out. âSheâs my age! Did she tell you that? How would you feel if your father married someone your age?â
âYou, however, had time to hide the gun, didnât you Miss Windham? After you shot your father.â
âI didnât mean to shoot him. I thought it was you walking through the door!â Sheâs posing straight at Brooke, tears staining her face, the court erupts in gasps. âOrder! Order! Order!â
âOh my god.â Turning to Hiromi dazed, you approach the defence table slowly. Distantly you can hear the judge ordering the daughters' immediate detainment. When you reach Hiromi heâs beaming, reaching out to shake your hand in congratulations. âWell done. I knew you could do it.â
âIâm the matter of the state vs. Brooke Windham, the case is dismissed. Mrs. Windham, you are free to go.â Cheers fill your ears.
âMiss. Woods, how did you know Miss Windham was guilty?â
âThe rules of haircare are simple and finite. Any cosmo girl wouldâve known.â With that youâre walking through the courtroom doors head held high. Until⌠someone starts calling out for you. Naoya. âWhat?â
âI just wanted to say that you were brilliant in there. And that I was wrong. And youâre the girl for me.â Deadpan, âReally?â
âYes. Pooh bear⌠I love you.â He tries to kiss your hand. âOh, Naoya. I waited so long to hear you say that⌠but if Iâm going to be a partner at a law firm before Iâm 30, I need a boyfriend whoâs not such a complete bonehead.â In cuts Hiromi offering his hand out to you, which you take gladly squeezing gently.
Walking out of the courthouse togetherâŚ
a/n okay I hope this isnât completely horrible. if I keep editing Iâll go crazy and change the whole thing. feedback is welcome! also I havenât seen this movie in ages so I hope this makes sense đ
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