i. deer dolly
part i | part ii | more | ao3
tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, human! possibly ooc! alastor so he's a bit more "tame" here, allusions to murder and such, unsettling & obsessive behavior, written before episode 7; may become inaccurate, gorey-ish descriptions of love
"So what?" Angel Dust hummed, drumming his nails on the counter. "You and Alastor are like... friends?"
"Oh, well, that ain't the word I would’ve used, but it's something like that!" Mimzy chirped, reaching for her drink and downing it in one go. "He used to frequent the club I had! In fact, that’s where he met his wife—"
“Wife?!” Angel Dust cut her off, jaw dropping. “Freaky face is married?”
“Oh yeah,” Mimzy hummed, waving her hand around. “Under all that murder and cannibalism, he’s a total sap! Can't blame him, I mean—his wife is a doll! Me an' her used to perform together!”
"An’ how come I never heard of this? People ain't told me shit!" Angel Dust grumbled, turning to Husk behind the counter. "You knew 'bout this, whiskers?"
"Yeah. They were together back in the living. But don't even think of bringing it up in front of Alastor. He gets all heated," Husk grumbled, grabbing a towel to wipe down Mimzy’s now-empty glass. The cat then turned to grab another bottle off the shelf, a grimace on his lips. "I would know."
Angel Dust leaned forward, resting his face on his folded hands. "Well, ain't that something. Never knew he even had one of those."
Mimzy cackled, her voice a raspy melody that echoed through the smoky air of the bar as she snatched the bottle of liquor away from Husk’s paws. "Oh, honey, you wouldn’t even know how deep it goes. They go way back."
"Spill," Angel Dust grinned, curiosity getting the better of him.
Mimzy leaned in, looking both ways to make sure Alastor or his shadows weren't around before lowering her voice. "It was back in the day, at my joint. Alastor dropped by for the bootlegs, you know? But then he caught sight of her. She was singin’ and dancin’ on stage, a real heartbreaker. He couldn't resist the charm, and boom, he was struck on! Ever since then, he came around as frequently as he could. Made me so much money~"
Angel Dust raised an eyebrow, his long lashes fluttering as he squished his cheek against his palm, a coy smirk playing on his lips. "And you were part of this love saga?"
Mimzy shook her head, a wicked glint dancing in her eyes before she lifted the bottle to her lips and downed its contents in one swift motion, her throat working as she swallowed. "Oh, sugar, just a witness to the drama. Those two lovebirds had their own dance going on. I just spiced things up."
Angel Dust chuckled, shaking his head. "Never thought smiles had it in him."
"Again. He likes to keep his shit private. So, don't go running your mouth unless you wanna be on the receiving end of one of his… episodes," Husk interrupted, his gruff voice breaking through the conversation as he leaned over the counter and reclaimed the bottle from Mimzy with a low growl.
Angel hummed dismissively, his golden tooth catching the glimmer of the bar lights as he spoke. “Anyone could've guessed that. Where is she, anyways? I haven't seen or heard of her since day one."
"Busy," Mimzy snorted, her finger lazily tracing the rim of her glass. She leaned back in her seat, the dim glow of the bar lights casting shadows across her features. "That's where."
“Really?" Angel's brow lifted in skepticism, his boot lightly kicking against the base of Mimzy's chair. "Busy? That’s it?”
Mimzy shrugged, her lips curling into a sly smile. "Can't tell ya much. Y'know Alastor doesn't like sharin'. Secrets and shadows, that's his game."
“Aww c'mon, tits,” Angel grinned, his golden tooth glinting beneath the bar lights with each word. “You gotta know more than you let on. It'll be our secret.”
"Well," Mimzy drawled, savoring the suspense as she tapped a gloved finger against her cheek. "I guess I can tell you a lil’ something about how they met…”
.
Alastor found himself standing in the heart of a secluded corner of town.
A desolate, dimly lit street stretched out before him, raindrops rhythmically tapping on the worn concrete beneath his feet.
It was something he had never imagined—searching for a speakeasy in this far-off locale. Rarely did he have time for himself. Most of his days were dedicated to caring for his mother, his job as a radio host, and any free time he had was reserved for his… hobbies. But he supposed a change of scenery wouldn't hurt.
Adjusting his glasses, he gazed up at the timeworn, ragged sign of a barbershop that read, "Chum’s Clippers."
Charming.
With a roll of his eyes, the radio host stepped into the worn-down establishment, visibly grimacing at the shop's decrepit condition. His eyes surveyed the room, settling on a young blonde woman.
Perched on the edge of the registrar counter, a cigar dangled between her cherry-red lips, the tendrils of smoke curling upwards in lazy spirals. Her legs crossed provocatively, causing the fabric of her dress to ride up her thighs, revealing more skin than what civil society would allow.
As soon as she caught sight of Alastor's silhouette, a spark of excitement lit up her features, and she greeted him with an animated wave.
"Hey there, mistah! Names Mimzy!" she chirped with a friendly lilt. Her crimson-painted nails plucked the cigarette from her lips, trailing a wisp of smoke as she gestured toward Alastor. "Whatcha here for?"
"Pleasure to meet you," Alastor smiled back and stepped closer, offering her a bow of his head, “Quite a pleasure. You see, I was just strolling through these darling streets, and wouldn't you know it? The whispers in the wind pointed me straight to you, the gal in the know when it comes to bootlegs. Care to confirm?"
‘A potential client?" Mimzy thought, her smirk hidden behind her hand as she took one last puff, the cherry of her cigar glowing brightly before she flicked it into an ashtray. 'Straight to the point.'
"Well, well, mistah," she drawled with a playful twirl of her finger through her blonde curls. "You've got a nose for sniffin' out the good stuff, huh? Well, we might have a few things tucked away for the right kind of folk. But, sugar, we don't just give 'em to anyone.”
Alastor's smile widened as he smoothly fished out his wallet, giving it a theatrical wave. "I do have a penchant for fine libations, my dear. And I assure you, I'm just looking for a little taste of the local flavor, nothing more."
Mimzy's eyes sparkled with mischief as she perked up, eagerly hopping off the counter. The click of her heels echoed against the worn floor as she approached the tall man.
"You're in luck, then! Follow me, and we'll talk business in the back," she said, gesturing toward a concealed door at the back of the barbershop.
Alastor followed her through a narrow passage, which unveiled another door leading to the very speakeasy he’d heard talk of. The atmosphere changed instantly, lively jazz music filled the air, and the dimly lit space was alive with laughter and clinking glasses.
Mimzy guided Alastor to a private booth tucked away in a corner, where a polished bottle of bootleg whiskey awaited their arrival.
"Here's to unexpected encounters, mistah," she beamed, the words dripping with charm as she poured a generous measure into his glass. Alastor raised his glass in acknowledgment, his eyes glinting with amusement.
"To unexpected encounters," he echoed before taking a deep sip.
The whiskey was bitter and strong, yet there was a subtle sweetness that danced on his tongue, leaving behind a tantalizing warmth. It had been increasingly difficult to find such fine brews ever since the prohibition hit, making each sip all the more precious.
Seating himself comfortably, Alastor swirled the glass in his hand, mesmerized by the way the golden liquid caught the flickering candlelight. Beside him, Mimzy continued her lively chatter, her words accompanied by the persistent clinking of ice in their glasses as she refilled his drink, hoping to stack his bill higher with each pour.
As the room hummed with the soft, easy notes of a piano and the clinking of glasses, a sudden hush fell over the crowd as an announcer's voice sliced through the air.
"Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for the enchanting Dolly!"
Mimzy's excitement bubbled up even more, and she leaned in toward Alastor. "That's my sister! Well— not by blood, but you know, me and her are real, real close. One of my best performers here at the bar!"
"Is that so?" Alastor hummed, his eyes now alight with curiosity as he shifted his focus toward the stage.
In that moment, you stepped onto the platform, grabbing a hold of the standing microphone. With a subtle flick of your wrist, you directed attention to the dark-haired pianist, his fingers poised above the keys. A nod from you and the jazz ensemble sprung to life, setting the stage for your performance. As the spotlight enveloped you in a warm glow, a hushed silence fell over the speakeasy.
Folks, here's a story 'bout Minnie the Moocher
She was a red hot hoochie-coocher
She was the roughest, toughest frail
But Minnie had a heart as big as a whale
The lyrics flowed easily through Alastor's mind, carried by the smooth, buttery tones of your voice that filled the air. The radio host found himself utterly hypnotized, his gaze never tearing from your form.
He could stare for hours, unabashed by any sense of shame—though, truth be told, he didn't possess much of that quality to begin with.
She messed around with a bloke named Smokey
She loved him though he was kokey
He took her down to Chinatown
And he showed her how to kick the gong around
As Mimzy began clapping excitedly and waving her arms to beckon you over, Alastor's attention shifted. The final notes of the song echoed in the room, snapping him back to reality. In the haze of your performance, he hadn't even realized that the song had come to an end.
“What a gal!” Mimzy cackled, joyously wrapping her arms around you as you approached.
Alastor took a moment to study you with keen interest.
The dim lighting of the speakeasy lent a soft, ethereal glow to your figure as you moved, casting long shadows across the floor. A slender dress, shimmering with golden sequins, hugged your figure, shimmers and glitters catching the light. The dress boasted a daring low neckline, while its swaying boxed skirt gracefully fell just above your knees, accentuating your every movement. Complementing the ensemble were black kitten heels, their clicks and clacks adding a subtle rhythm to every step you took. Your hair, styled into a sleek bob, framed your demure features perfectly. Adorning your head was a headpiece adorned with golden yellow feathers and dark lace.
"Dollface, I want ya to meet Alastor!" Mimzy exclaimed, pulling you along and positioning you in front of him. “He’s new!”
With a wave of your hands and a warm smile, you tilted your head up to meet Alastor's gaze. The man standing before you was tall and slim, boasting broad shoulders. His white button-up clung perfectly to his frame, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing toned forearms adorned with scars, cuts, and prominent veins.
‘Must be a hunter or a butcher,’ you noted heatedly.
Short, side-swept brunette hair framed his face, adding a touch of rugged charm to his appearance, while rectangular glasses perched on the bridge of his nose lent him an air of intelligence. As he smiled, a chill crept down your spine, and an odd sinking sensation settled in your stomach.
There was an unsettling nature to him, a subtle aura that left you uncertain of whether your reaction stemmed from the eerie quality of his smile or if it was simply a flustered response to his strikingly handsome features.
“Pleasure to meet you, cher,” Alastor purred, turning on the charm. He delicately took your hand, pressing a kiss against your knuckles. In a subtle move, the radio host let his fingers linger over your skin, subtly checking for any sign of a ring. Noticing the absence, he filed the information away with a sly smile.
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, sir,” you smiled, tucking your face behind your hand. Alastor observed with delight as a subtle blush painted your cheeks, a tacit acknowledgment that his presence had left an impression.
"Al here knows his way around a glass of whiskey like nobody else in these parts! Ain't that right, Al?" Mimzy chattered, her voice bubbling with familiarity as if she had known him for years and hadn't just met him one song and ten drinks ago.
Alastor chuckled, a low, melodic sound that sent your stomach doing flips. "
"Well, I do have a certain fondness for…" The radio host paused, his sharp, gaze raking up and down your form, his words trailing off. "…finer things in life."
A silence lingered in the air, and Mimzy, always attuned to the mood of a room, shot a knowing look between the two of you.
"Well, don't cha?" Mimzy exclaimed, her hands clapping with excitement. "If that's the case, then I'm sure Dolly would love to show you around here!"
"Is that so?" Alastor, maintaining that devilish smile, turned his attention back to you. "Well, what do you say, cher?" he questioned.
Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, you met his gaze with a coy smile. "I'd be delighted to show you around. There's a lot more to this place than meets the eye."
Mimzy clapped her hands together. "Perfect! Now, why don't you two enjoy the rest of the night? I'll be right here waiting."
“Shall we?” Alastor offered his hand, gesturing to the dance floor.
With a small nod, you graciously accepted Alastor's outstretched hand, leading the way to the lively dance floor where the band played an upbeat tune. Around you, couples twirled in a dizzying dance, with heels tapping, shoes stomping, and skirts gracefully gliding and twirling. Alastor wasted no time, pulling you in and molding your form against his.
Looks were indeed deceiving, as despite his lean appearance, Alastor had no issue effortlessly tossing and spinning you round and round, lifting you as if you were as weightless as a feather. Each spin and dip was executed with skill, his footwork was a blur and soon enough, you found yourself willingly surrendering to the rhythm of his lead.
This man could fucking dance.
As the music gradually slowed, Alastor guided you to the side, providing a moment to catch your breath after the energetic routine.
"Thank you for the dance, cher! You are quite quick on your feet," Alastor chuckled, his voice low, blending with the fading echoes of the music.
"You're not too bad yourself," you managed between breaths, a raspy laugh escaping your lips. "Nobody's ever been able to keep up with me," you continued, running a hand through your tousled hair and adjusting your dress. "I think I was the one who had to keep up with you."
After ensuring you were presentable, you lifted a hand to fix Alastor's slightly damp locks, adjusting his glasses and tie. Alastor froze, a foreign sensation enveloping him. Despite his typical aversion to physical contact, there was an absence of the usual recoil in disdain this time.
"Looks like we're both a bit of a mess, aren't we?" you chuckled, a wry smile playing on your lips as you gracefully brushed away a speck of dust from his shirt.
Alastor blinked and eventually relaxed, allowing you to proceed without any resistance. "Quite."
While you continued to fix him up, Alastor couldn't help but feel a sense of bewilderment. He felt as though coils had entwined themselves around his heart. Slowly constricting, they didn't just tighten but twisted, sharp edges digging into muscle, squeezing his emotions into a thick syrup that spilled beyond the confines of his ribs, seeping out in a haunting shade of crimson through the cracks in his chest.
As the seconds passed, he paid no mind to your touch, shifting his focus to instead dissect you with his eyes. He scrutinized the subtle reactions playing across your face—the delicate twitches of your brows, the soft pout of your blood-red lips, and the scrunches of your nose.
What were you doing to him?
"There you go!" you announced, a note of satisfaction in your voice as you finished your task, your hand coming to rest briefly on his chest before retreating. "Ready to head back?"
Snapping out of his obsessive trance, Alastor emitted a soft hum, offering his arm to you. You gracefully accepted, intertwining your arm with his. The energetic atmosphere from the dance gradually subsided as you and Alastor made your way back to the private booth. Mimzy's mischievous grin awaited you as she rejoined your company.
"Looks like you two had quite the time!" she exclaimed, a twinkle in her eye.
Alastor quickly composed himself, nodding with a grin. "Indeed! It was quite a delightful dance."
Just as Alastor turned toward you, the insistent dings of a nearby clock echoed through the room. His expression shifted, a fleeting shadow of disappointment and ire crossing his face. The hours had danced away quicker than he had anticipated.
Undoubtedly, the night was still young for you, given that speakeasies often extended their festivities until the early hours of the morning.
However, as much as Alastor would adore the idea of continuing to enjoy your company, the weight of responsibilities at home tugged at him. He had his elderly mother waiting, relying on his care for her well-being, as well as an upcoming morning shift at the radio station.
"It's later than I realized, my dear," he admitted, his voice carrying a touch of regret. "I'm afraid I can't stay any longer. Duty calls, and the dawn awaits for my return."
Something twisted and snapped in Alastor's gut as he observed the unmistakable disappointment etched across your features, evident in the downturn of your blood-red lips. His fingers itched with an impulse to claw your mouth back into a smile, to dig his nails into your skin and carve your lips into a grotesque display of happiness, all in a desperate attempt to restore the radiance of your joy.
Meanwhile, Mimzy sighed in disappointment, yet Alastor discerned that beneath the theatrics, she was indifferent to it all, evident in her thinly veiled disinterest.
"Aww… That's too bad, sugar! The night's just gettin' started!" Mimzy exclaimed, shaking her head with a pout.
"But I get it! Some folks got places to be," Mimzy waved it off. There was a sudden twinkle in her eye as she pulled out a tab from her dress pocket. "Anyways, 'bout those drinks you had, they weren't exactly on the house, sooo..."
Alastor chuckled and pulled out his wallet. "Of course, my dear! I apologize, it must not have crossed my mind!"
He settled the bill and threw in a generous tip, for both you and Mimzy. His job as a radio host was quite the money-spinner, affording him the pleasure of treating others to the finer things in life. Mimzy practically glowed with satisfaction, her blue eyes sparkling as she snatched the tab. Swift and efficient, she flipped through the bills, before pocketing the money.
"Thank you, love!" Mimzy chirped, already moving away from the table as she waved him off. "You're welcome anytime!"
“I’m sure I am,” Alastor responded flatly, almost mockingly, with a roll of his eyes, pulling a laugh from you. As Mimzy made her way off backstage, both you and Alastor were left alone.
“It's a shame you have to leave so soon. I've got more songs up my sleeve for later. I would have loved for you to stay and catch the performance,” you sighed, turning back to him.
Alastor's eyes sparkled with genuine interest. "Songs, you say? Well, cher, that does sound like a delightful experience. Perhaps I can catch your next show some other time."
You smiled, appreciating his enthusiasm. "I'd love that. I perform here regularly, and your company would be more than welcome anytime."
Alastor's gaze intensified, fixing onto you with a magnetic pull that seemed to draw you closer despite yourself. His eyes, pools of darkness, held an unexplainable intensity. As his lips curled up into a grin, there was a hint of something more primal than human lurking behind his charming facade. A shiver traced its way down your spine, leaving behind a lingering sensation that unsettled you to your core.
"I'll definitely make it a point to come by," he finally said.
Scrambling for a response, the only sound that reached your ears was the rhythmic thud of your own heartbeat as your blood rushed through your veins.
"Y-You too! Don't let the night slip away too quickly," you stammered.
With a nod, Alastor bid you a final farewell, weaving through the dimly lit space towards the exit.
Yes, he shall see you very soon.
Cher - Louisiana Creole term meaning "darling," "sweetie" or "honey."
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Can i request toji doing this to reader 👉👈
𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: YEEEEEESSSS!!! I mean–ahem–yes, you may request this delicious prompt ٩(ˊᗜˋ )و
⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - kissing/making out - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (presses and swiping) - Daddy kink - missionary position - praises - unprotected sex (no release on Toji's part, tho) - pet names (baby, mama, sweet thing, sweetie) - voice kink - Toji being a teaseing bastard, lawl - implied prior masturbation.
⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k
“Haaah…Toji—Mmmm!“
“Shhh, I’m right here, sweetie…Did’ya sleep well?”
It’s not unusual for you to be asleep when Toji returns home from work, especially when he’s been away for more than three nights.
But, fuck, when he returns home, all he can think about is having your soft frame in his starved grasp.
You lay so peacefully on his bed, your man watching the rise and fall of your figure and listening to your snore while he quietly enters the room. Once he drops his stuff down, he’ll crawl up to be atop you, emerald eyes scanning every feature of your beautiful face he wants to kiss so badly.
And the truth is that you’re just as touch starved as he is, left here to await his return while he’s doing God-knows-what (you’re unaware of his assassin gig) and worrying about his absence. But when you awake to the smooth sensation of your lips being pressed on, you don’t scream or holler; far from that. Instead, you kiss back and open your sleepy eyes to see the grown man above you.
“To…ji?” Your voice is strained with exhaustion yet curious.
The dark-haired man shushes you with his lips onto yours, moaning with you while his hands spread your legs for him to lay comfortably between. “Missed ya, mama,” his gruff voice so low that your stomach immediately flips at the erotical tone.
“I missed you, too,” you admit in between smooches, and you melt when he cups your cheeks to keep your face with his. “Missed you so…Hmmm…”
More kisses have you relax, his scared mouth trailing down to suck on the skin of your neck to listen to more of your sweet gasps. “Yeah? My baby missed me?” You chew your lips as he whispers in your ear, and your hips instinctively move at the motion of his hand, palming the groin of your shorts. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout me while I was gone? ‘Cuz I sure was.”
“Yesss,” your answer slurred by the lick and kiss to your helix. “Yes, I ha—Aaah!”
His hand sneaks inside the hem of your shorts, not surprised to meet your bare cunt with his fingers. Your wetness instantly coats the rough pads of his fingertips as he nestles between your labia. “Thinkin’ ‘bout me so much that y’re all wet like this?” You can practically hear the grin uplifting the scar on his lips. “Hmm? Ya miss Daddy so much that you touch y’rself while I’m gone, huh?”
Your eyes are sewn shut at the sensation of your folds being fingered, and your lips ajar once Toji inserts his middle finger. Wiggling the digit around, scratching your walls with the blunt of his fingertips, it has you wail softly. “Yessss, missed you—Oooh! S..So much, Daddy…”
“Heh, dirty lil’ thing,” Toji’s finger goes faster, and the raven-haired man enjoying your shrieks gets a little louder, and your breath halts at his ring finger teasing your entrance. “Tell Daddy how much ya missed me.”
You arch your back at the insert of the other digit; your fatigue vanishes with every graze of the two fingers. “Haaah…Miss how you kiss me—Ahh!” He toys with your clit with the brush of his thumb. “H-How good you–Mmnn!–make me feel…” He kisses your forehead; the gentleness contrasting with the salacious squelches from your shorts causes a haze.
“Yeah? Ya like when I make ya feel good?” His fingers go faster, and the presses on your clitoris go frequently. “Just like?”
“Mmnoooh,” Toji kisses you again, this time more passionately with tongue exploring your mouth; you twitch around his digits as they curl and rub. “I…Love it!”
Toji chuckles. “That’s what I wanna hear, sweet thing,” and he removes his hand from your shorts to lick your fluids clean. “‘Cuz I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout makin’ you feel good on my way here.”
He discards your bottoms to the bedroom floor seconds before he unzips his pants and brings them down with his boxer briefs. Toji has his dick free for you to marvel at, the nether limb not yet fully erected, yet the quick pulse of it has your mouth water. He slaps the tip onto your leaky chasm; the sight makes your vagina throb. So much so that you clamp tighter as he pushes the soft tip into you. “Relax fr’ me, mama,” he coaxes you through, gradually pushing every inch of him inside. “Daddy’s gotcha, ‘kay?”
You howl inaudibly, furrowed brows as the base of his cock kisses your folds. And when he grinds his pelvis down? Jesus, you grip the sheets to serve as reins; contracts around his girth are inevitable.
“Fuck,” he curses above you. “So warm and tight like always…”
When he begins to move, it’s at a slow pace. The feeling of his dick pushing into and pulling out of you so sensually is so erotic to your senses, especially witnessing the thing burrowing inside your warmth with your own eyes. Oh, my God, you can feel it getting stiffer, making your excitement dial-up.
The member goes firmer with every stroke, and every sensation differs from the last. His shaft stands solid inch by inch, your eyes shooting up as you become fuller by the second. One pull and push has you whimper. Another push and pull, and your toes curl at the stretch of him becoming greater. Another slow push, and you're calling for him with a shaky breath as the tip of his now solid limb lightly jabs your cervix.
And Toji adores the view under his bow, your body reacting to his erect cock scraping your insides to the point of broken cries. “How ya feelin’, baby?” His sultry voice pulls you in as he increases the speed scarcely.
“Daahh, s-so full,” the snicker to your ear makes you clamp on him harder. “So good…Nnoohh!! Daddy, st–Ooop! D-Don’t thrust so—”
“Hmm? What’s up?” You don’t have to open your eyelids to see that the older man above you has a mischievous look after suddenly sneaking a quick rut to your entrance. “What; don’t like it when I go like…this?” Toji’s hips go erratically, the motion making it easy to rub on your inner walls and sweet spots to the point of shrilled shrieks leaving your lips. “Or…this?” He sluggishly pulls himself back where it’s only the tip of his shaft that’s nestled inside you, only for him to snap his hips back in a rushed second. It takes a moment for you to process and let out a scream as the cockhead pokes your delicate cervix with precision.
Your hands frantically find his shoulders to grip his shirt, “Daddyyy, please, sl–Oooh–Slow down…! If you keep goin’, I’ll cu—….Mmmm!!” Your pleas don’t stop him; they fuel him to keep pounding into you. Balls deep for him to keep probing you with hits to the narrow end again, and your legs wrap around his waist without you thinking. How could you think? Your head kept pounding along with the climb of your orgasm, trembles climbing up your spine.
“What’re ya holdin' it fr’, huh?” All it takes is Toji to bend to your ear once more, kissing your cheek as his pelvis slams into your aching slit. “Cum, mama. Lemme know how good y’re feelin’.”
As if on command, your climax hits you hard, like a wave crashing down on your poor form, drowning your senses with euphoria like no other. Your cunt squeezes around Toji’s girth, your nerves spiking to a sensitive high that has you winded and cold for a moment. And the man above you hisses at the flutter of your walls; his rocking cadence slows down to relish the feeling.
You wail in ecstasy; a tiny sharp gasp leaves you from the gentle kiss he places on your forehead.
“There ya go, sweetie,” he coos with a kiss to the chin before straightening himself. You observe him remove his shirt to dump it onto the floor, and your face becomes hotter when Toji ventures down, where his face gets closer to your wet entrance. “ All wet and ready fr’ me…”
© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ✩ dividers by @/benkeibear.
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