#stepdaddy

So why not make the most of it ?

Selling his body was an easy way to make money. Of course, it disgusted him sometimes, when at 3 am he would wake up in a stranger’s room, realizing he was a whore.

But he had a roof over his head, pussy and cash in his pocket, which really was all that mattered at this point.

Well Toji met your mother, he really did try all the normal relationships that society had pre-packaged for men his age.

He “settled down” as she called it.

He acted like a good, good man.

She was beautiful for her age, and had money and wanted him.. what could he ask for more ?

The unexpected “I have a daughter” thing was hard to accept, but I mean, if that said daughter was 20 and did not live at home, he could accept it, right ? Your mother complained to him about how much of a brat you were, and since you two weren't exactly on good terms, he could just avoid you for the rest of his life, he figured.

Big mistake.

When he met you, he was taken back. This was no brat.

Okay, maybe a little bratty, but at that age, who wasn’t ?

You were rather kind, with a sharp tongue from time to time, but overall a sweet girl.

The problem was your mother : the woman he shared a bed with every night was so mean to you, yelling at any minor inconvenience, sighing all the time at you, and overall acting as if you were making mistakes all the time.

Poor girl, he thought as he saw you crying in the backyard for the first time during your uni summer break.

He offered you a cigarette, not really knowing what shit else to do.

You broke into a laugh through the tears, and it might have been the prettiest sound he had ever heard.

He smiled and apologized for being bad at those things, and your gaze flickered away from that smirk that was way too hot to not be dangerous.

He surprised himself by wanting to hear you laugh again, and the grumpy big old Toji started to grow used to your presence in the house, teasing you in hopes to make you laugh again.

And just like that, from stupid remarks over breakfast to being pushed in the pool, you were starting to get used to him as well.

It was hard not to stare : he was stupidly hot. Big and muscular, no college boy and frat guy could compare to what he was giving.

It was a hot summer day lost between so many others it happened for the first time.

You and your mother were yelling at each other again, and you snapped, taking your sparkly handbag and slamming the door.

You text your friends to know if you could crash anywhere for the night, and a thing leading to another, you were dragged to a party with some friends to ease your mind.

Anger still coursed through your veins behind the kind girl's face, and drink after drink, you could feel your face heat up.

It didn’t really worry anyone, you were the type to drink after all, even though the joint you had just smoked was a bit new

Everyone was dancing, and the music was loud. Everyone was having fun except for you. Mind foggy of a mix of feelings, you just wanted to feel something. Anything that was far far away from the feelings you felt at “home”.

So you let the frat boy get touchy, kiss your cheeks, your neck, and soon, before realizing it, you’re under him as he whispers how hot you look.

Your chest feels tight, and all wrong. Your skin is not feeling the usual way, and you suddenly hate his smell, his stupid face and all the sensation.

You push him off, searching for air, feeling like your throat has been cut off. Through the haze of sweaty bodies, you need to find an exit.

All the faces mixed together, and you grab your bag as tight as you can, getting out of that house looking for fresh air.

Alone in the night, you pull out your phone, sit on the side of the road, and barely breathing, call him.

“Toji ?”

He picks up in a heartbeat.

“Yeah?”

“Can you come pick me up?”

Your voice is hoarse, tight, ashamed. What kind of stupid 20-year-old runs away from home just to call her mom’s boyfriend in the middle of the night?

You already feel stupid tears welling up and take a breath not to cry.

“Yeah… yeah, sure. Where are you, doll?”

The nickname makes you skip a breath, and for a moment, you hate yourself for it. How pathetic to care so much for so little, only because you are lonely.

You give him the address and wait on the pavement, sobering up, the sound of the party muffled in the background.

He pulls over in that trashy old car.

“Get in.”

You do, without a word, the cracked leather smell oddly comforting as you take your seat.

He doesn’t ask anything at first, his jaw clenched tight. You’re scared of disappointing him. Your outfit suddenly feels silly, all your past decisions stupid.

You hope he doesn’t smell the weed, even though he probably smokes joints too and wouldn’t really care.

Finally, he breaks the silence.

“I know your mom—”

“You don’t.”

He was being nice, and you knew you weren’t being fair.

“You don’t know about my mom and me.”

He is a bit taken aback by your response, given how much of a sweet girl you usually are, but he isn’t annoyed.

“You’re right. I don’t. So why did you call me?”

“…I don’t know,” you realize.

I thought of you while the frat boy kissed my neck, you think bitterly.

“I think you do know why, doll.”

You feel yourself tighten everywhere. You swallow.

You feel disgusting. Did he know? Your fucking problem. Your dirty little secret. How broken you were. How you couldn’t enjoy any interactions with a boy your own age.

You catch your own gaze in the car’s rearview mirror; red eyes stare back at you.

Was it because you were stoned, or was it that you were holding back tears? Your high had finished over an hour ago—there wasn’t really any excuse.

“Oh yeah? Then what is it?”

“I think you had no one to call. I think you’re lonely, doll, because your friends can’t take care of you properly.”

He sighs, without real judgment.

Oh yeah. Well. It was a low blow, but it was still better than talking about what you had in mind.

You stare at the streetlights, the window rolled down, your hair in the wind.

“Are you crying?”

You can feel wetness on your cheeks, but the night air is so good on your face you didn’t really think about it.

“Toji.”

“Yeah, doll?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you too.”

He says it so casually—and Toji isn’t one to talk about feelings—that it almost feels like he’s talking about the weather or something mundane.

(Though he never really talks about either of those things.)

Everything is confusing, and you close your eyes, letting tears roll down quietly as you drift away.

When you wake up, it’s a crappy motel, and toji is aside, his breathing heavy beside you. You watch from afar his back, so fucking big.

You were definitely sober now, even though your head was still hurting a little.

Fuck..you whisper, trying to find your phone in the dark, the glowing screen flashing “5 am” and a crappy text from your ex boyfriend.

You groan, and Toji wakes up next to you.

“Sorry…didn’t want to wake you”.

Toji's eyelashes flutter and he looks back at you.

God, you were pretty. A goddamn hot mess.

He wasn’t exactly proud of himself for thinking so, but still, he couldn’t help.

Glitters were scattered around your face from the party makeup that had smudged, and you looked like one of those fancy bakery treats that shone : he could have just eat you up.

I should have fucked him in the car, you thought, I could have blame it on the alcool and wouldnt have my pussy aching for him this bad.