#I will give you one hint. hands

[kyngsnake]

in all his yippee-ki-yay glory.

additional outfits under the cut

[supermarine-silvally]

Yara, which emperor of the sea would you have taken on if given the chance?

"He had my mother and grandfather killed. Liberating Wano is personal for me. ...He's got a cute son, though."

Ask Yara (or any of my OCs) anything!

[sonknuxadow]

okay sorry for having opinions on sonic shipping but . the more popular a ship is the more likely i am to be annoyed by it so its probably for the best that my favorite ship is one of the not as popular ones . but also the way sonknux gets talked about (or not talked about) as a result of it being less popular drives me up the wall . what do you mean it doesnt make sense. hes literally not staring at the moon and thinking about him💔

[johnsbleu]

Hold My Hand: John Wick x Reader Chapter 160

warnings: sm*t HMH masterlist

Skipping happily into the office, you smile at John and shake your hips a little as you grab a few more books to put out. You hear him laugh quietly as he walks over to you and kisses your cheek, then he peeks out to the shop floor and comes back in to help you grab the books.

“There’s a couple out there on a date,” you say, and John looks at you, “Their first date. He said he wanted to do something different, so they came to the book shop. Thought it was kind of cute and unique.”

John nods his head, “That’s different. Probably better than dinner at a fancy steak place in New York City, huh?”

You look over at him and smile, “I loved our first date, and you know that I would have been completely fine with peanut butter and jelly on the couch for our first date; I just wanted to be with you.”

“If I had taken you to a book shop for our first date, it wouldn’t have been a date. It would have felt like work.”

“You got a point,” you smile as you look at him, then you lean over to kiss him, “It was a great date though. As soon as you pushed your card across the table to show me that you rebound books, it was all over from there. We didn’t shut up for the rest of the night.”

John smiles, “I was so nervous.”

“I was too,” you admit, and John lets out a small laugh, “But you made me feel so comfortable and like you actually gave a damn about what I said.”

“I did. I do! I still do.” he smiles, and you lean up to kiss him again. “I could listen to you talk all day long and I honest to god would not get bored. You’re my favorite person on this planet.”

You smile, “You’re my favorite person too.”

Both of you look over at the door as Grace comes in with Ronan in her arms and a grimace on her face, and you laugh when she sets her down and shakes out her arms.

“She just…” Grace laughs, “God, she just shit her diaper and it was so loud, everyone looked at me.”

You laugh, “Been there. She has those really wet ones lately. It’s awful. John and I usually rock, paper, scissors over who has to change them.

John turns to you and puts his fist on.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

You both played paper.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

“Yes!” John laughs when his rock breaks your scissors, and you playfully squint your eyes at him before you turn around to change Ronan’s diaper.

Grace laughs as she leans against the desk, “You two are so cute.”

“I’m not too upset about losing because, yes, whoever loses has to change her diaper, but there’s a still nice little win; a massage before bed.” you look over at John and smile before you squint your eyes as you look at the books he’s holding, “Those are…thriller and mystery.”

John nods, “You got it, boss. I’ll put them out there right now.”

You look down at Ronan as you scrunch your face up and clean the smelliest and poopiest diaper she’s had in a while--introductions to solids have been rough--then you set the dirty diaper aside and put a new diaper on her before pulling her dress down. You help her off of the couch and watch as she walks over to her toys on the floor, and you smile when she walks back over to offer one to you.

“Thank you!” you take it and make noises as you play with it, and she looks up at you and smiles, “Where’s daddy?”

Ronan looks up with her big brown eyes and perfect eyelashes, then she toddles over to the door, garbling and babbling baby nonsense until she gets to the doorway, “Dada!”

“What?” John sings from the shop floor, and you lean over to see Ronan waddling out to see him. You hear her screech loudly a few times as she walks around, then she giggles, which means John has probably picked her up. He tosses her up a little as he walks back into the office, and she squeals. “Oof, it stinks.”

You laugh as you stand up and grab the diaper, “I’m gonna go toss it outside.”

Holding the poopy diaper like it’s…well, a poopy diaper, you head outside and walk down and around the corner to the back of the shop where there’s a big dumpster that is used for the shops on this strip. You don’t want to throw the diaper away in the shop just in case you forget to take the garbage out and it festers overnight. That would be absolutely horrible to come in to tomorrow.

You toss it in the garbage and look out at the town square as you walk past, and you wave at a few people who must be setting up something that is happening this weekend. There’s empty booths and strings of fairy lights being hung up over what looks like a makeshift dance floor.

There isn’t a festival happening this weekend since the bookshop always taken advantage of the extra foot traffic and has a sidewalk sale. The wind picks up a little and blows a piece of paper that is pinned to the board on the sidewalk, and you walk over to see what it says.

14th Annual Daddy Daughter Dance.

“Oh, my god.” you pull the sheet off and rush inside to John, who is sitting in the kid’s section with Ronan in his lap, and you sit down and read the paper to him, “Daughters of all ages (no age restrictions) are invited to a magical night of music, dance, games, and treats. Girls may be escorted by dad, grandpa, uncle, or any father figure. This evening is for girls to spend with their first ‘love’, to connect and strengthen the relationship between fathers and daughters; a relationship that will last a lifetime.”

John takes the paper and laughs, “That’s cute.”

“You should take Ro.” you say, smiling wide, “There’s no age limit, it’s in the town square, it’s a little spendy, but look, the money goes to a good cause.”

Looking at the paper, John nods his head, “Isn’t she kind of little?”

“No age restriction. This could be your little tradition with her! You could take her every year!” you say as John starts to smile, “You two can make a whole day of it. I can take her to get a dress and do her hair and her nails when she’s older. You can take her to dinner somewhere fancy, then go to the dance and win prizes.”

“It does sound like a good idea.” he admits as he smiles, and you lean over to kiss him.

You pinch Ronan’s cheek as she smiles--her chubby cheeks are so pinchable!--then you kiss the dimple in her cheek, “I’ll take this gorgeous girl to get a dress tomorrow.”

John chuckles, “I’m kind of excited, to be honest.”

“It’s cute!” you smile, then you tickle her belly, “We get to go shopping for you!”

Ronan giggles and kicks her legs, then she slides off of John’s lap and waddles around, babbling loudly. John smiles as he watches her, and your heart melts a little when he looks back down the paper you brought in.

__

Ronan has just been put down for her nap after the mall, and she’s pretty zonked from all the shopping. You’re not sure how she’ll even get through the night tomorrow since it’s the daddy daughter dance, but you’re sure John won’t mind holding her if she falls asleep.

As you round the corner to the bedroom, you stop and watch as John looks at himself in the mirror and fixes his suit. He pulls the jacket tight around him and fixes the sleeves, and he dust off the pants a little.

It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him in a suit, and damn he looks good! You can't help but feel a flutter in your chest as you watch him. It's like you're seeing him for the first time all over again. The way he carries himself, the confidence that radiates off of him - it's all so attractive.

“Is that your suit for tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he laughs nervously, “Yeah, I haven’t worn this suit in a while, so I wanted to make sure it’ll fit otherwise I’ll have to go get one today. It fits though.”

You walk over to him and run your hands down from his shoulders to his hands, then you nod, “You look very handsome. You have some cufflinks?”

“Uh, yeah, the ones you got me for Christmas,” he says, and you walk over to get them from off the dresser. “Thought they’d look good.”

Nodding your head, you grab one and hold it up to John’s sleeve, “Looks great.”

“Do you think I should, like, comb my hair back? Or do something different?” he asks, and you laugh a little--he’s taking this so serious, it’s very cute. “Is that dumb?”

“No,” you walk over to him and cup his face, “You look as handsome as ever just like this. Reminds me of our wedding day.”

John smiles as he leans down to kiss a few times, then he undresses and hangs his suit back up. You walk over to sit on the bed and open the drawer on your nightstand to see all of the junk you’ve accumulated in it over the years (every hair tie that you own, 4 chapsticks, 6 pens, one highlighter, a small bottle of lotion, an unused bottle of lube, 2 very hard Tootsie Rolls, an expired condom, and a little packet of tissues), so you decide it’s time to clean it out.

“What are you gonna do tomorrow night?”

“Oh, haven’t given it much thought, really.” you shrug as you look at him, “Probably just get some stuff done around here. Maybe clean Ronan’s room and go through her dresser and closet to get rid of stuff she doesn’t fit--well, pack it away. I want to save her clothes just in case we have another girl in the future. I also need to go through my closet too. I have some clothes from when I was pregnant that I’m obviously not going to wear or fit in anymore.”

John nods as he pulls his jeans on, then he sits by you, “Have you ever been to a daddy daughter dance?”

“Didn’t have a dad,” you say as you look at him, and he closes his eyes--instant regret.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I mean, I knew that, but…I just…I didn’t think.”

You touch his arm, “Its’ okay. I always saw my friends going to them when I was in elementary school. They were pretty popular--I didn’t know they still were--but it was just at our local community center. By the time my mom met Dan, we were too old and cool for those kinds of things and he was just mom’s boyfriend, you know? We didn’t really see him like that yet.”

“Would you have wanted to go to one?”

“Absolutely,” you smile as you look at him, then you shrug, “But you can’t really go if you don’t have a dad. I didn’t have any father figure. I suppose my mom could have taken us since she was our mother and father figure, but she worked a lot. I think it’s really important that you and Ronan have this, you know? She obviously won’t remember it until she’s maybe 5 or 6, but…”

“I will.” he says, and you nod.

You feel the back of your throat tightening with the urge to cry, “You know I’ve always said how important your relationship with her is, and you know why. I didn’t have a dad to love me the way you love Ronan. She’s incredibly lucky to have you, as am I.”

John nods, then he walks over to the closet and pulls out a garment bag, “I was wondering…would you like to join me and Ronan?”

“What?”

“No age restriction,” he says, and you laugh a little, “I’m a dad. I’m not your dad, but I’m a dad. It didn’t say that a husband can’t bring his wife.”

You laugh tearfully as you look at him, “You’re serious?”

“Yeah,” he sits down with you and smiles.

“But this is your thing with Ronan. I don’t want to barge in on that.”

John chuckles, “It’s not barging if I’m asking you.”

You look down as John gently runs his fingers up your arm, causing goosebumps to form, then you look up at him as he smiles softly.

“Every little girl deserves to go to a daddy daughter dance,” he says as you tear up again, “And I’d be more than happy to bring both my girls. Let me do this for you.”

“You’re really the sweetest man I’ve even known.”

John laughs as he pulls you into his warm arms, “I bought a dress for you.”

“What? When?”

“When you took Bug to get her dress earlier.” he says, and you laugh, “I went to that one shop you love in Oyster Bay.”

You stand up and take the garment bag, then you unzip it to reveal the blush colored dress made of tulle, “Oh, this is so pretty.”

“The bottom is kind of fluffy but not too fluffy. Go try it on.”

You lean down to kiss John, then you skip to the bathroom and quickly change. The top of the dress is more of a halter top, which is perfect since it’ll be warm tomorrow night, and the neckline plunges down a little but not too much. The bottom isn’t fluffy but you get what John meant--it’s tulle, it looks fluffy.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you grow giddy when you realize you have your own version of a princess dress. You spin around and watch the dress bloom out around you like a flower, then you walk out to John.

“Wow,” he smiles, “Looks really good.”

You look at yourself in the mirror as John watches behind you, and you fix the dress a little and look at him as he walks over to help zip the dress up. He kisses your shoulder and back as you smile and close your eyes, then he moves your hair and kisses up your neck.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers, hugging you tight to him, “I know you’re not my little girl, but you’re still my girl and I’m more than happy to share tomorrow night with you.”

“Thank you,” you whisper back, and he touches his hand under your chin to turn your face toward his so he can kiss you.

Turning around to face John, you place your hand on the back of his neck and kiss him deeply as he slides his hand down to your ass and grips it. You feel his hand move up to the zipper of your dress, then he unzips it and reaches up to pull the halter from over your head.

“Okay, good.” he nods, and you furrow your brow as you lean back, “Just making sure this is easy to get off.”

“John!” you laugh loudly, then you slap your hand playfully against his stomach as he laughs.

__

John left a little while ago since he said he needed to grab something last minute but he said he said he’d be back shortly. You’ve gotten Ronan all bathed but not dressed yet--she’ll drool or spill something on herself--and now she’s in your bathroom with you while you curl your hair and do your makeup. You’re just about done too, so you unplug the curling iron and set it on the silicone mat to cool down.

“Should we go get you dressed?” you ask, and Ronan looks up at you as she chews on an old comb you and John have never used. “Come on.”

You reach for her hands and hold them as she walks in front of you to her room, then she falls to her butt and crawls over to some toys while you grab her dress from the closet.

It’s blush colored like your dress but maybe has a little more pink in it and it’s fluffy! It has a satin ribbon around the middle that ties as a big bow in the back and has a matching bow for her hair.

You kneel down in front of Ronan and grab a clean diaper, then you lay her down and hand her a toy to keep her busy while you change her diaper. She’s at the point where all she wants to do is kick her legs and flail her arms. You pull the dress over her head and smile when she looks at you, and you start to laugh as you hold her hands and pull her to stand up.

“Oh, you look so gorgeous!” you smile as you fix the bottom of her dress, then grab her little shoes to put on. “Can momma put a bow in your hair? Will you let me do that?”

Ronan looks at you as she chews on the toy, and you take a few strands of her brown hair and click the bow to it.

“Very pretty!” you smile at her, and she scrunches her face and smiles back. You pick her up and carry her back to your bedroom so you can get dressed, then you set her down on the floor and grab out the dress. You match it with some gold heels that you haven’t worn in a while but you remember being comfortable, then you get some accessories and look at yourself in the mirror. “I think daddy is one lucky man to have two gorgeous girls. Don’t you think?”

Ronan babbles as she toddles over to you and reaches up, crying a little when you don’t pick her up right away. You lift her into your arms just as the front door opens, and you fix your dress and Ronan’s before walking to the stairs.

“Are my girls ready?”

“We are!”

John laughs as he rushes to the living room, “Don’t come down yet. Let me sit on the couch.”

“Okay, we’re coming down now.”

“I drove past the town square on the way to get what I needed to get and it looks really great. They got the lights on, the booths have lights around them, they have music playing, some people have already shown up. I think this will…” he stops talking as you and Ronan stand in front of him, and he lets out a small laugh as he tears up, “You both look beautiful.”

You smile when he gets up and kisses you, then he leans down and kisses Ronan before taking her from you so he can get a better look at you. He takes your hand and holds it up so you’ll spin, then he pull you closer to kiss you again.

“You look gorgeous,” he whispers, and you smile as you step back and gesture to him in his suit.

“Look at you! You’re wearing the shit outta the suit.”

John laughs as his cheeks turn red, “Whatever.”

“You clean up nice, Wick.” you say, then you wrap your arms around him, “We’re a good looking family.”

“Yes, we are.” John bounces Ronan in his arms, then he looks at you, “Shall we?”

Holding hands with John, you walk to the door and grab your purse for the night, then you grab Ronan’s diaper bag--not very glamorous but a necessity. John locks the door up behind you, then he walks to the car and gets Ronan wrangled into her car seat with her fluffy dress. He rushes over and opens the door for you and nods his head as you laugh.

“Thank you, sir.” you get in and fix your dress, then you look back at Ronan as she chews on her hands.

John is doing something in the trunk as you wait for him, then you look to your left and smile when he gets in the car and sets an oblong box in your lap.

“What’s this?”

“Something for tonight.” he says, then he looks over at you, “I was going to get Ronan something but I didn’t want her to choke on it, so I just got her some flowers.”

You laugh as you nod your head, “Yeah, good idea.”

John gestures for you to open the box, so you look down at it and pop it open to reveal a gorgeous and simple diamond tennis bracelet.

“I noticed you didn’t have a bracelet to wear with your dress tonight, and you know I always buy your earrings and necklaces, but I never give you bracelets.” he says, then he takes the bracelet out and places it around your wrist. He brushes his lips softly over the inside of your wrist, then presses a kiss to it, “It looks great.”

“I didn’t get you anything,” you whisper, grimacing a little.

John shakes his head as he reaches over to cup your face, “Tonight is a night for me to spoil my girls rotten, and I’m gonna spoil you.”

You laugh when John cocks up his brow a little, insinuating sex for later, and you laugh again as you lean over to kiss him, “Sounds great.”

__

The air is warm and full of laughter and music, and it smells of cotton candy and warm chocolate chip cookies. Everywhere you look, you see little girls dragging their dads off to some booth to win a prize or get their picture taken. It’s all very sweet. This year’s event is held outside, while most are usually held in a fancy house on the hill, but people are still dressed in suits and fluffy dresses, so the three of you still fit in.

You thought you’d get weird looks from people when you paid to get in, but they just smiled and complimented you and Ronan. John got a few compliments as well from the older woman who took your money. There were a few people who wandered over to see what was happening, and one guy was thrilled and said he’d be back in twenty minutes with his daughters.

As you stand at a booth and look through the little trinkets on the table, you overhear a young girl, maybe 13, telling her dad how embarrassing he’s being because he’s dancing the music. She’s trying her hardest not to smile but every time he pokes her arm, a little smile tugs at her lips. You just want to lean over and tell her to cherish it.

Embarrassing dads like that are kind of the best. Dan wasn’t around when you were little, but he’s definitely an embarrassing dad--Leah has shared a story or two about that. He’s really the epitome of a corny dad.

“Where should we go next, huh?” John says to Ronan as she flails her arms around, “Oh, that way? Okay. Come on, mom.”

John takes your hand and holds tight to it as the three of you wander around.

The moment you got here, John has been so considerate to you. He’s seen you looking around at the fathers and daughters and getting teary eyed, and he just kissed your cheek and told you how happy he was that you came with.

To someone who grew up with a loving dad, they probably wouldn’t really think anything of this but to a girl who didn’t have one growing up, this is everything. Your inner child is healing and it feels really good.

“Oh, mom should try this.” John says, and you laugh as you look at the goldfish toss, “Maybe momma can win a new fish for us.”

You laugh, “That’s a lot of pressure.”

John and Ronan watch as you toss a ring onto the bowls where the fish are, but you miss a few times. You hold up the last one and grimace, then you toss it and watch as it spins around the rim of the bowl.

“Yay!” you clap your hands and lean over to kiss Ronan, “I won a fish!”

Ronan squeals as she leans over for you to take her, and you hoist it up as John takes the fish from the woman behind the booth. He holds it up to look at the orange fish in the bag, then he holds it up so Ronan can see it. She points at it as she leans over but John holds it away enough so she can’t grab it.

“What are we gonna name him?” you ask as she garbles, and you laugh when she points at John and just says ‘dada’, “We’ll think about it some more.”

“No, no, Dada is a good name.” John smiles, and you laugh quietly.

There’s special dance coming up shortly for everyone, so you make your way over to the benches and sit down as some dads bring their kids out to the dance floor. You hand Ronan off to John and gesture for him to go out there, but he looks nervous.

“Won’t it be weird?”

“When have you ever cared what people thought about you, babe? You love this little girl. Now give her her first dance.” you smile as Ronan scratches her fingers against John’s beard, “Go now while she’s still in a good mood.”

John leans down to kiss you, then he walks out to the dance floor and holds Ronan in his arms. She’s still looking at him and playing with this beard as he sways back and forth, then she plays with his tie as he whispers to her.

He’s probably telling her how much he loves her--actually you know he is. She leans against his shoulder and twirls her finger in his hair, then she leans back and giggles. You pull your phone out and snap a few shots of the two of them as they dance together, and you wipe the tear off your cheek.

A soft and slow version of Stevie Wonder’s Isn’t She Lovely begins to play, and John smiles as he kisses Ronan’s cheek and walks over to you.

“Should we dance with momma now?” John puts his hand out and smiles, “Mrs. Wick, may we have this dance?”

“Absolutely.” you nod, propping the bag holding the fish up on the centerpiece.

John pulls you to your feet, then he smiles and walks back out to the dance floor. He wraps his right arm around your waist and smiles at you, then he looks at Ronan as she reaches over to play with your hair.

“Look how beautiful my girls are.” John whispers, and you smile at him. “I’m the luckiest man here.”

“You know, we’re pretty dang lucky too.”

John holds you and Ronan tight to his chest, and he leans his cheek against the top of your head as you sway back and forth. You close your eyes as you rest your head against his chest and listen to his heartbeat, then you open your eyes and look at Ronan with her cheek pressed to his shoulder and her eyes closed.

“Oh,” you stand up straight, “She’s asleep.”

“We don’t have to go, do we?” John asks, and you shake your head when you realize John is having fun and wants to stay longer. “I can grab her stroller from the car.”

You nod, “Yeah, sounds good.”

John rests his hand on your lower back and pulls you close to him again, “And we can have a few more dances.”

“Is your arm okay?” you gesture to Ronan, “She’s not killing it?”

“Nope, it’s perfect.” he smiles, then he pulls you both closer.

__

After putting Ronan in her stroller, you and John hung out at the festival for a little longer. He won a duck plushie for Ronan at the water coin toss, then he won a teddy bear for you at the balloon pop. The two of you walked around and laughed like teenagers in love, and it was fun.

Since you thought they’d have dinner served--they didn’t since the theme was a festival this year--you didn’t eat dinner. John dropped you and Ronan off at home, then he headed to Oyster Bay to pick up dinner from your favorite Thai restaurant.

Ronan woke up when you changed her out of her dress and into her pajamas, so you just sat on the couch with her and feed her some scrambled eggs and banana. She’ll get a bottle in a bit.

You turn on the TV and grab your phone, then you scroll through your phone to see what people are saying about the picture you posted of John and Ronan where they’re both looking at each other and smiling. Comments from Jen, Amanda, Tess, and your mom all make you smile, but you’ll have to reply to them later. Your mom has already texted you to ask how the dance went. You’ll reply to her later too. You look over at Ronan as she watches TV, then you kiss the top of her head.

“Did you have fun today, bug?” you ask, and she looks up at you as she struggles to get a piece of egg into her mouth--you reach over to help her. “Daddy loves you very much. Very, very much. You’re so lucky to have him. He’s pretty much my favorite person on this planet, aside from you. Though when I say that, it makes me feel guilty because I do really love Aunt Tess too and Grandma. I just love a lot of people, but I love daddy in a whole different way. He’s healed my heart so much over these past few years, and I’m grateful that you’ll never know any of the pain that I have because daddy won’t ever treat you the way my father treated me. Daddy loves you and only wants the best for you.”

Ronan is just babbling and chewing on her hands as she looks up at you but all you see when you look at her is John; the spitting image of him.

“I love you so much, Ro.” you whisper as you lean over to kiss her cheek, “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. It’s actually pretty ridiculous how much I love you, babe.”

“She loves you.” John says, and you jump and put your hand over your heart as you close your eyes and exhale. “Sorry.”

You laugh, “Holy shit, you scared me.”

John gestures to Ronan as he laughs, “Let’s hope ‘shit’ isn’t her next learned word.”

“If it is, it’ll be your fault. It’s your favorite swear word.”

“Nope,” he sits down, “It’s actually ‘fuck.’”

You laugh loudly as you put your hand over his mouth, and you both look at Ronan as she sits on the couch and eats her bananas and eggs. You feel John pressing kisses to your hand, so you remove it and look at him.

“She loves you, peach. And she knows you love her.” he whispers, and you smile as your eyes soften, “I know you love her too, and she’s so lucky to have you as a mom. I never had a mom, just like you didn’t have a dad, so I understand exactly how you feel when it comes to me and her, because it’s how I feel about you and her. She’s so lucky that she gets a mom who is going to love her unconditionally. I see the way you are with her, she’s so lucky, baby.”

“Thank you,” you smile as you lean over to kiss him.

John dips his thumb into your dimple, “And you’ve healed my heart too, peach. In so many ways. My heart is so full now because of you. I’ll be forever grateful for that.”

You lean over to kiss John a few times, then you laugh when Ronan crawls over your lap as she babbles, “Oh, you got a few things to say too, huh?”

“What movie should we watch?” he asks Ronan as she crawls over to him.

“I got the perfect movie that fits the theme for tonight,” you say, and John nods.

“I’ll get the food then.”

You smile as you kiss Ronan’s cheek, then you grab the remote and settle into the couch.

__

“Why…the hell did you pick that movie?” John asks, then he sniffles a little, “That was heartbreakingly beautiful.”

You picked 1995’s A Little Princess to fit with the daddy daughter theme of the night, and it had John almost sobbing at the end as he held Ronan. To be fair, you both were crying but it’s a great movie and it fit with the theme!

You lean over the sink and spit out the toothpaste, then you look at John, “I thought you’d enjoy it.”

“I did! It was very sweet.”

Walking over to stand behind John, you wrap your arm around his waist and rest your cheek against his back, feeling the bumped up skin on the scar on his back. You lean back and trace your finger along the silver scar of an upside down cross, then you close your eyes and press kisses to it before moving to the other scars on his back.

“Stop thinking about it.”

“Can’t help it,” you say, matching John’s tone.

No matter how many times you see those scars on him, they knock the breath out of you and make you cry. It only reminds you of all of the shit John went through and how unfair it is.

John turns around but you shake your head and trail your finger along the scars on his stomach.

“Doesn’t help,” you whisper, and he pulls you into his arms, pinning yours down at your side so you can’t hug him and feel the scars. “It isn’t fair what you’ve been through either.”

“Oh, I know,” he whispers against your neck, then he leans up and smiles, “But it led me to you. And if I had to do it all over again just to have you, I would. A million times over.”

John lets go of you and cups your face, kissing with you with warmth and passion. He slides his hands down to the back of your thighs, then he lifts you up and carries you out to the bedroom. You smile at him as he lays you down and crawl up to kiss you, then he walks over to shut the bedroom door.

Reaching out for him, you laugh when he pulls your pajama shorts off and tosses them aside before he lays down on top of you. His right hand is warm as it slides up your silk pajama top onto your breast, and you close your eyes and smile as he kisses and sucks on your neck. You smile every time his beard tickles.

He takes his time as he kisses all along your neck and collarbone, then he sits up and pulls your shirt off, helping you when your hair gets a little tangled in the straps, then his hot mouth is back on your skin, kissing down your chest to your bellybutton before he kisses the little ‘J’ tattoo on your side. He licks up your chest to your chin, then he presses his mouth, warm and wet, to yours.

“I’d be lost without you,” he whispers against your lips, and you open your eyes to look at him, “I’d gladly go through everything again just to be with you.”

You smile softly as you reach up to cup his face, “Well, good thing you’ll never have to. I know it’s dramatic, but John, I’d die without you.”

John laughs quietly, “Yeah, me too.”

His hand slides down your side to your ass, then he lifts your thigh and wraps it around his waist as the two of you kiss. He moves his hand back up to your underwear, then he tugs them down and maneuvers you and him as he pulls them off and throws them aside.

“I’m still so impressed that you can do that one handed.”

That earns a little laugh from John before he moves his hand between your legs and rubs you slowly. He lays down next to you on the bed and spreads your legs open further, and you moan softly, looking into his warm eyes. He licks the tips of his fingers and moves them back between your legs, and you jolt a little as he smiles. He begins to move down between your legs, but you reach out for him and shake your head.

“Wait, wait, wait…”

“You don’t want me to go down?”

You laugh a little, “I do, I just…I wanna keep looking at you.”

John nods his head and sits up, then he takes the pillows and props them up for you. He makes sure that you’re able to watch him, then he kisses down your stomach to between your legs. You look down at him and smile when he kisses and nips at your thighs, then he spreads your legs apart and looks up at you as he buries his face between your legs, his tongue so warm and wet. You press your hand to your mouth as you pant, and you nod your head to let John know he’s doing well.

“Oh, shit, John…” you moan, then you run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. “Yes, you’re so good at that. So good, baby.”

As John softly sucks on your clit, you push yourself back a little and moan but John pulls you back to him, then you place both hands on his head and pull him even closer. He hums loudly and closes his eyes, and the vibration of it causes you to shake as his beard scratches against your skin.

You let out a string of moans as John delves his tongue in deeper, then you look down at him to hold his gaze and interlace your fingers with his before closing your thighs around his head and moaning his name loudly as an orgasm ripples through your body, turning you into a twitching mess.

“Come here, come here. Come here right now,” you reach for him and push his boxers down, and he pulls you down the bed and bites his lip as he thrusts once to bury himself inside of you, “Oh, fuck!”

John chuckles low and soft in your ear, “You might wanna lay on your stomach and bury your face.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he licks his lips and nods his head, and you roll over to your stomach like he suggests. He slides back between your legs as you put your face in the pillow, then he leans closer to your ear, “This is much better.”

You smile as you look over your shoulder at him to say something to him, but he thrusts his hips hard, knocking the breath and the words out of you. You place your hand on the headboard to keep yourself from jolting forward and hitting your head with every jerk of his hips, then you look back at him as you laugh.

“Gonna turn your legs into jello, Mrs. Wick,” he whispers, and you cock up your brow.

“Oh, don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you tease even though you absolutely know he will.

John leans down and kisses your shoulder, “You know me, I always keep my promises.”

__

“You know, I really love your after-sex hair,” John says, tucking your hair behind your ear, “It’s always a little damp so the natural curls come out. You always look so sexy.”

You smile as you reach over for a strawberry, “Your hair gets curly when it’s damp too. It’s sexy. It curls at the ends.”

John bites into a strawberry as he lounges on bed next to the platter of fruit and crackers. He holds up a strawberry for you, then he smiles when you bite it. The two of you sit in silence for a few moments as you snack, and you look over to see the time; a little after 10. You’re happy it isn’t too late.

The days of staying up until the early hours of the morning are now pretty limited since you have to have your wits about you during the day with a baby. Every now and then when Ronan is with your parents, you and John might stay up a little later than usual but it’s not common.

“Can I try something?” John asks, and you nod your head as you look at him. He moves the platter away a little, then he takes his half eaten strawberry and crawls closer to you.

“What are you doing?”

John laughs, “Trying something.”

You laugh a little as John gestures for you to lay down, then he unties your robe and opens it. You look up at him as he licks his lips, then he takes the strawberry and gently trails it around your nipple, watching the pink juice roll over your breast. He leans down and sucks it off, and you hum softly. He sits up and rubs the strawberry in a circular motion over your nipple again, and you moan when he sucks it off again.

John opens your robe more and trails the cold wet strawberry over both of your nipples, then down your stomach, his lips not far behind as he licks up the trail of juice. He kisses back up to you, then he smiles and offers the rest of the strawberry to you, which you take.

The two of you look at each other for a moment, then you frantically pull your robe off and crawl over to him as he takes his boxers off.

“One more time.” you whisper, and John nods with his lips pressed to yours. “God, you make me crazy.”

John lets out small grunt when you push him down and crawl on top of him, then you grab a strawberry and smirk as you look down at him.

“Your turn.”

___

taglist: @sakurachan-9 @beingnerdyissupercool @tnu-ree @ruby-octo Lemme know if u want to be added!

[youngpettyqueen]

the fun thing about making OCs is you can borrow things from your favourite characters and nobody can stop you from doing this

[badolmen]

Me: eheheh I’m gonna write an au of my silly spies and stuff stories that’s gonna be steeped in the politics I grew up in because it’s personal to me to write about how usamericans entrenched in post-9/11 nationalism can learn and grow and be better the way I had to after growing up in a conservative nationalist household

Me: oh hey some folk are reading this including one I look up to what’s they got to say -

Readers: I don’t trust Character he’s got bad vibes

Me, holding my White Bread American Character who’s just started his arc: you. you guys gotta trust me please

[bmpmp3]

SIREN wearing some pirate coat he probably took off someone he defeated on his shoulders

[twiggystarrdust]

A bunch of things I just learned about gelflings

I just found this website with loads of information about the gelfling race that I JUST DIDNT KNOW so i had to share.

some i reckon are just fan theories, but hey, they fit pretty well.

anyway, let me know what you think of some of these points.

Astronomy, Biology, Psychology and Culture of the Gelfling.

n this article we shall briefly examine the main characteristics of Gelfing biology and culture, starting with their planet of Thra.

Astronomical characteristics

Thra is the world of the object formerly known as the Dark Crystal. It is a type-M planet, meaning capable of supporting humanoid life. It is similar to the earth in size, with an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere and a great abundance of life forms. Thra circles three stars, one the "dying sun," a red dwarf star near the end of its life cycle. the second star, the "rose sun" is a class M red star. The third member of this stellar trilogy is a type G1 star, slightly larger than our own type G2 star.

Although inhabited planets orbiting triple-sun systems are quite rare due to the complexities of orbital mechanics, Thra is one of those rare planets where the complexities work out just right to allow the planet to maintain a relatively constant surface temperature.

The planet has three major continents. Alpha continent is the location of the Crystal Castle. Beta continent is located to the east, while Gamma continent is located to the west.

There is a relatively wide variety of biomes present, although the slightly warmer temperatures on Thra do not allow the presence of the Arctic-type biomes as found on earth. Swampland, Tropical Rain Forests, Temperate Deciduous Forests and Grasslands are the major biomes found on Thra. There is a season which approximates Earth's fall, but no winter season is present.

The vast majority of the planetary surface, some 83%, is made up of ocean. This compares to Earth's 75%-25% mix.

Gelfling evolution

Gelfling and Podling life forms arose on Alpha continent through normal evolutionary processes. Gelfling stand, in adult size, between three and four and a half feet tall. They possess four digits on hands and feet, a warm-blooded circulatory system and all other typical characteristics of intelligent humanoid life forms.

Examination of fossil life forms show an interesting lack of any large land predatory species such as the dinosaurs as found on the earth. Other than that major difference, Thra evolution has produced an extremely wide variety of life forms, perhaps even more different kinds then have been discovered on the earth.

Since the Gelfling society is based on a more harmonious living with their environment than Terran society, Thra has not suffered the ravages of wide-spread deforestation and massive building construction as has been present on the earth, nor has it suffered from any major pollution. Both these reasons have contributed to the continuing wide variety of life forms and the relatively low level of extinction on the planet (other than during the Dark Millennium).

Gelfling Biology

Birth Rate

The Gelfling possess a relatively low birth rate. They do not become capable of bearing children until they have reached their forties. Generally after bonding there would be a period of ten to twenty years before any children would be born. After that several children would be born within the next couple of decades; after that the rate of births tends to fall off. Typically a Gelfling female can bear ten to fifteen children during her life span.

The exception to the general rule was that of the Queens who, for some reason yet unknown, generally were able to bear children for a much longer period of time than the "average" Gelfling female; hence, some Queens had over twenty daughters.

Overpopulation has never become a severe problem with the Gelfling. It seems that the Gelfling live extremely close to the planet itself. A sort of feedback mechanism has been hypothesized between the environment and the female Gelfling which tends to limit the number of children born to a number that the environment can adequately feed and house.

Any period of widespread plague or disaster, for example, reduces the population considerably; consequently, there is always a considerable increase in the birthrate for a short time until the overall Gelfling population once again stabilizes.

Fertility

Fertility is controlled by the female Gelfling in some manner apparently intimately linked to the environment. When the environment alters in either a positive or a negative way, Gelfling fertility either increases or decreases. The exact mechanism behind this is not known at this time.

Sexual activity is quite common among Gelfling, yet unwanted births are virtually unknown, again indicating that the female has some form of control of whether or not she will become pregnant no matter how frequently she has sexual activity.

Bone Structure

The Gelfling possess a light bone structure, the females somewhat moreso than the males. The ability to fly, of course, would be impossible if the Gelfling possessed a heavy bone structure, so it is believed that the light bone structure and flying ability evolved together during the earliest part of Gelfling evolution.

Flight

The ability to fly is possessed only by female Gelfling. During the early years of Gelfling history females could make unassisted flight. During the Dark Millennium this ability to fly was gradually lost, resulting in the females being capable only of gliding. After the healing of the Great Crystal the ability to fly quickly returned.

Flight has two primary advantages to the female. First, the mating ritual involves an aerial dance and other activities in which the female performs a particularly sensuous aerial dance, enticing the male and generally leading to sexual activity and a strengthening of their bonding.

The second advantage is tactical. Females can explore wider areas, search for new food sources and, in some instances, actually do aerial artwork. The physical advantage over the male Gelfling was never exploited by the females, however, Such an exploitation was not within the real of thought for any Gelfling.

Mating Dance

The mating dance as the most intense sensual and sexual experience that a Gelfling can feel. It occurs only between deeply bonded pairs, and the female determines when the dance will occur. The female performs a preliminary dance during which she gradually removes her clothing. The normal pheromones the female produces increase strongly during this activity. After disrobing the female becomes airborne, performing an aerial ballet for her mate. During this activity the mate is virtually spellbound. After the aerial ballet the female lands, mounts her mate and begins actual sexual activity.

The session of sexual activity continues for a period of hours after which the mate ritualistically gently strokes the female's wings and both Gelfling fall asleep. Pregnancy as a result of the mating dance is estimated to be in the neighborhood of 93%, so a link between the dance and the reproductive drive is considered likely.

Lifespan

The average lifespan of a Gelfling is from 350 to 400 years. The ability to reproduce begins during the forties and extends for the next several decades, although having children even in later years is not totally unknown. The Gelfling remain physically vigorous and mentally alert until shortly before their death. Gelfling can somehow sense when their natural lifespan was near an end and they tend to approach their deaths with calm dignity.

Gelfling Psychology

Bonding

There are several levels of bonding, varying in intensity and length of effects. One level of bonding is through the process of dreamfasting. This can be done between two Gelfling or between a Gelfling and a Podling. This level tends to temporarily increase the psychic awareness of the bonding pair, establishing a mental link between them that will gradually decrease over time unless a deeper level of bonding is obtained.

The strongest level of bonding results in a bonding that will last throughout an entire lifetime. This can, on rare instances, begin during the first dreamfasting episode, as it did with Jen and Kira. The psychic bonds formed are intense and permanent and present in virtually every level of activity. A strong degree of telepathy is often established and, during the most intense sexual sessions a virtual unification of the minds of the two Gelfling takes place.

An extended familial bonding can also take place, increasing the strength of the family relationship in Gelfling society. This bonding also tends to last the entire lifetime of the individuals involved.

Should one of the two members of the strong pair-bonding die, some elements of the bonding will still remain, but a new bonding can still take place so that even the eldest of the Gelfling are still usually in some high level of pair-bond relationship.

Dreamfasting

Dreamfasting is an important means of communication amongst the Gelfling in that it allows a very deep sharing of personal experiences between them, taking place on a non-verbal level. Dreamfasting also varies in strength and can take place between two Gelfling, a Gelfling and a Podling, and perhaps between a Gelfling and Aughra, although no written evidence of this has yet been found. It is not a prerequisite to the strongest level of bonding but can lead to that level. It is an instinctual activity and cannot be "taught" or "improved upon." It helps to increase the ability of Gelfling to understand each other for, by understanding the background of the other Gelfling in such intimate detail, conflicts end up being minimized.

Family

The Gelfling are extremely family oriented. Once permanent bonding has taken place and the raising of a family has begun the close family structure becomes even closer. The Gelfling possess an extended-family structure and thus one tribe might be made up of a dozen or more families, each family with several generations of members.

The familial units have not led to any sense of territoriality, however, as happened in early human evolution. No one family is considered superior to another; delight is taken in differences of thought and abilities. Quarreling between families in general and family members in particular is virtually unheard of in Gelfling society. Care of children is seen as a family project in which Gelfling of all generations and both sexes take great delight.

General Gelfling psychology

The Gelfling are a very peaceful race that lives in complete harmony with the planet. Their greatest pleasures are in music, food, fun, love and sexual activity. No concepts of tribal superiority, sexual superiority or age superiority are present. The Gelfling considered all their surroundings to be alive and to be treated with the greatest of this respect. In this matter some of their behavior is not unlike that of many of the earlier Native American tribes.

Female Gelfling are extremely sensual in nature and are in some manner strongly psychically linked to the planet. Only females are healers and the healers could calm emotional disturbances as well as heal physical ills.

The "emotional disturbances" referred to problems arising from the loss of a bondmate and similar problems. No true "psychotic" Gelfling remained so for long, as several healers together, sometimes even involving the Queen as chief healer, would be able to restore the Gelfling to mental harmony. Even the worse of the psychotic cases that arose (and these were extremely few) realized, on an instinctual level, that they needed the aid of a healer and sought out such aid as soon as possible.

The abilities of the Gelfling males in the field of music are exceptional, and virtually all music is performed by male Gelfling.

The vast majority of the Gelfling bonding relationship occurs on the nonverbal level, and a description of their deepest psychological traits is beyond the ability of mere words to express. Much of Gelfling life is on a "felt" level rather than on a rational/logical level of understanding.

Sex

The Gelfling are an intensely sexual race, using sex as much as a means of communication as anything else. Sexual activity begins for the Gelfling when they enter their twenties. Until permanent bonding takes place sex can be with a wide variety of partners. Never during this time, however, is the mating ritual performed and no female Gelfling ever becomes pregnant before permanent bonding takes place.

Once permanent bonding has taken place sexual activity tends to be only with the bondmate. Sexual activity is quite frequent, both before and after bonding, and is considered one of life's greatest pleasures.

Telepathy

All Gelfling are mildly telepathic at birth. Gelfling who have permanently bonded have the highest level of telepathy, but all Gelfling remain telepathic at least at a basic level for their entire lives.

Gelfling Culture

Gelfling Art and Music

Two of the major delights of Gelfling are their art and their music. both have been developed to a very high degree; musical artifacts dating back nearly to the very beginning of Gelfling history have been found.

Although both art and music were highly developed, there was never a sense of competition amongst the Gelfling as there is with humans. Gelfling artists and musicians took great delight in teaching their crafts and even greater delight when one of their pupils turned out to be a master at the craft.

The vast majority of the music was limited to oral tradition; therefore, in the great purges carried out against the Gelfling much of this was lost forever. Only a few songs were ever recorded in written form; a few of those managed to survive the burning of the Music Academy.

Crafts

A wide variety of crafts is practiced by the Gelfling. Flower arrangement, jewelry crafting, carpentry, dancing and limited use of metals are all practiced, although never on a massive scale. Objects produced are made in numbers sufficient for immediate use, and emphasize beauty of form and structure. The tendency to want "possessions" so common in humans is not present in the Gelfling. This has helped to hold down the number of "objects" produced and minimizes damage to the environment.

The Gathering of the Tribes

The purpose of a Gathering of the Tribes is to select a new Queen. If a Queen ended her reign and none of her daughters wished to become Queen, or if it was "felt" by the Gelfling that a new Queen from another tribe was needed, then representatives of all Gelfling tribes would meet in the capital of Tarakendal. The representatives, both male and female, would hold hands and engage in a mass dreamfasting session, after which would follow a period of meditation. The name of the individual that was to become the Queen would then become known to all the Gelfling in a process that cannot be analyzed or expressed in words. The Gelfling so chosen would be crowned and recognized by all Gelfling tribes as the "rightful" Queen.

At no time during Gelfling history did any female "campaign" for Queen, nor did any tribe attempt to put forth a candidate. Such thoughts were alien to the Gelfling psychology.

Healers

Healers were inevitably female. They were born with the ability and would be trained by other healers. A healer had the ability to heal both physical and emotional illnesses. In severe cases the serves of more than one healer was used, sometimes as many as four healers working on the Gelfling at the same time.

For some yet unknown reason, when a female Gelfling became Queen she found that her healing abilities were increased substantially.

Matriarchy

Gelfling society is matriarchal in nature. Only female Gelfling become Queens or healers, and females control the times of their fertility. This does not mean, however, that the females were considered dominant or superior to the males, for such thoughts were foreign to Gelfling psychology. The matriarchal arrangement was accepted by all Gelfling without any qualms. Whenever a situation arose in which a male Gelfling had to assume command of a tribe temporarily, a great deal of unease was felt, and the leadership of the tribe was turned over to a female Gelfling as quickly as possible.

Gelfling society is not biologically equal, of course, since it is the female Gelfling that possesses wings and controls the fertility level. Again, however, this does not mean that the males are considered subordinate to the females. There are, in fact, no words in human language to describe the detailed arrangement of Gelfling society and how it functions since attitudes of dominance, aggression and control are not part of Gelfling psychological makeup.

Meals

Meals are always taken communally. At least two families if not more will eat their meals at the same time. The preparation of meals is done by the female Gelfling, with children of proper age being allowed to "assist." This form of communal dining is evidenced by the construction of Gelfling castles which also contain a single large banquet hall in which all the individuals staying at the castle take their meals together.

The Gelfling are almost entirely vegetarian in nature. Food is gathered by male and female Gelfling alike and then taken to the communal kitchen.

Before the meal begins there is a short period of grace during which thanks are given for the food. This grace generally consists of an apology for the taking of the life of the plants involved and a since wish that, through the death of the plants, new life would be created and would serve the planet well.

Pictographic Writing

Pictographic writing was developed early in Gelfling history. It is believed that it was introduced by Aughra around 3325 BDM. Almost all history and records were kept in this format. Pictographic writing became an art form unto itself and resulted in the decoration of many castles with pictographs that described the history of the tribes forming the castle family. The ability to read pictographic writing, for reasons unknown, is limited strictly to male Gelfling.

Written language

The written language is used infrequently and is believed to have also been introduced by Aughra. Only males are capable of using the written form of language for some unknown reason.

Religion

Religion is a very personal experience for the Gelfling, and there is apparently only one form of religion present amongst the tribes. A single Creator is worshiped, the worship consisting primarily of the Gelfling living their lives the best way they can in the closest harmony with the planet and all other life forms that they can achieve.

No formal churches or religious artifacts ever arose amongst Gelfling. There is a firm belief in an afterlife in which the individual goes to another dimension in which he or she finds themselves on another Thra but at a very young age, allowing the individual to live another full life. A series of such events is postulated, but no "goal" of "eventual purification" is ever stated or implied.

source: www\.bookmice.net/darkchilde/dark/gelfling.html

[1gramofquinn]

[chososdiscordkitten]

Baby Fever?!

Synopsis: JJk men/reader have baby fever ≽^•⩊•^≼

Includes: 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐍𝐚𝐨𝐲𝐚, 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨, 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐚, 𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 Content: afab!reader, topics of pregnancy, marriage, breeding, and having children. mostly nsfw (sorry anon) (a.n) Jesus my page has been full of baby fever nd marriage recently.

Dedicated to; this ask.

MDNI

Satoru Gojo

Ever since you first became official- Gojo had this little habit of asking to give you a baby. You always shook him off, telling him ‘no’ because it was far too soon and you were too young to start having children. 

Birth control became a necessity because of the little need he had to finish inside of you.

On one occasion of him asking the incessant question- you leaned in real close to his ear, “I will impregnate you.” you whispered.

This unlocked a whole other can of worms in Satoru’s mind. The urge to breed you was strong, but that little promise lit a fire in his soul. 

But one day, while out on a date- walking down an empty street, a child no older than 7 or 8 ran up to Satoru, Tears staining his cheeks and asking for his mom. 

Though you hardly saw Satoru interact with children in your daily life, you could see his demeanor change from a normal playful one to a more serious and authoritative one.

Crouching down to the child’s height and asking where he last saw his mom and his name—all with calm. 

You watched the little interaction unfold before you with wide eyes- the thought that Gojo was too immature to be a father completely being thrown from your mind as Satoru stood up straight and held the child’s hand in his. Guiding him back to where the child last saw his mom and reuniting the stressed mom and the crying child.

After that, more and more little instances Satoru did, made you start contemplating his little offer of giving you a child. 

Whenever you’d go shopping with him, you’d always pretend to accidentally stumble across the baby aisle.

Gojo perked a brow, watching your eyes admire the little socks attached to the onside in your hands. 

Corner of his lip curled up with a soft giggle, stepping over to you and whispering- “You’re actually considering having a kid?” he teased watching you furrow your eyebrows and hang the little onesie back on the rack. 

You shoved him with your elbow, scoffing and making a mental note to never bring this up again. 

That night, you were scrolling on your phone- watching any video that popped up of a chunky baby with a soft expression. 

Satoru was beside you, focused on his phone, but the sound of a child’s laughter made him look over at you with furrowed eyebrows- peeking over to your phone and watching the tiktok you were looking at. 

Some video of a mom showing their child’s massive hair bows- he was about to laugh at how silly the baby looked. Only he scanned your expression and got a hint as to why you hadn’t scrolled yet. 

Satoru rolled atop you, resting his head on your sternum and urging you to put your phone down. 

Holding his head in your hands- “I can give you a baby if you want one so bad~” he teased, causing you to furrow your eyebrows. 

Parting your lips with a soft gasp, “Satoru Gojo!” you feigned shock, whispering, “A child out of wedlock? What would the clan think?” you teased, mushing his cheeks together as he rolled his eyes. 

Pulling your hands from his cheeks and hoisting himself up- face to face as he placed a hand between your thighs, urging you to open them. 

Placing a kiss on your lips with a smile- “I am the clan.” he scoffed smugly. 

Toji Zenin

It all started with one little sentence he littered during intercourse, legs bent to your chest, and Toji pounding into you like his life depended on it. 

Something along the lines of, “Gonna breed this perfect pussy-” in a low husky tone. It was muttered- like his internal thoughts seeped from his lips without permission. 

But the words stayed in your mind- long after you had cleaned off his copious mess from your center. Even as Toji was snoring next to you- you stayed up thinking about the words he had muttered into the air. 

They made you squint thinking about the possibility of it. Questions you wish Toji was awake to ask him. 

Rare were the times he would sprinkle dirty talk during sex. But the way he said it, it wasn’t meant to be heard as dirty talk. The way it sounded was he spoke it as a proclamation. 

The next morning, when Toji woke up to your face pressed against his chest. Feeling your eyes watch him sleep, he woke up asking you what you needed. 

“You want to-” air caught in your throat, recalling what he said. “..breed me?” you whispered, looking at his hazy eyes and furrowed brow. 

Corner of his lip curled, “Where’d you get that idea?” he scoffed, closing his eyes and pretending not to feel your harsh gaze on his skin. 

“From you- you said it last night.”

Toji nodded ‘no’. As though the idea of him saying that was impossible. 

“Yes, you did- I heard you.” watching Toji’s smug face nod ‘no’ again. 

“You can’t gaslight me Toji- I heard you.” Your determination amused the man- feeling his chest rise in a half laugh against your cheek. 

Even a few days after- the thought lingered in your mind. Toji still refused to believe he said it- telling you that you were mistaken. 

And then Toji caught onto the feverlike smile you’d get on your cheeks whenever you’d see a baby in public. Smiling to himself as you pinched your eyebrows at the little humans. 

But there was this one time- on an elevator with a new mom and a baby in her hands. Toji noticed your staring as the woman struggled to reach into her purse, which caused it to fall and spill her belongings on the ground.

The woman sighed- looking down before peering her eyes back to you- “Could you?” she asked, holding out her baby to you- which you happily took and looked at Toji with the child in your arms. 

Toji swore his eye twitched as he watched you- happily bouncing the child in your arms before the woman reached her hands back to her child. 

After that, Toji started expressing his urgent need to breed you full of his children during intimacy- to which he still denied he said any of those things. 

“Whatever- as long as you don’t become a deadbeat again, I don’t care.” you scoffed, referring to his son he refused to talk about. 

Naoya Zenin

While he was dating you- Naoya took a lot of care in ensuring not to get you pregnant. “Children out of wedlock never result in anything good.” he would defend. He told you to start taking birth control- only you laughed in his face and said no.

That if he wanted to have safe sex- he would have to wear a condom. That you wouldn’t alter your body’s hormones just because he doesn’t wanna get you pregnant. And Naoya obliged. 

Midway through sex, pulling his ear down to your lips and telling him how much better it would feel without a condom- only for his eyes to shut tight- trying to keep his focus on not cumming, going as far as telling you to shut up. Multiple times, knowing if you didn’t, he might just listen to you.

Though you liked teasing him with the possibility. Asking if he didn’t want to see you barefoot and pregnant, waiting for him at home. Watching his neck pulse with a low gulp just thinking about it. 

In truth, you didn’t really want to get pregnant- Naoya had a point in the whole ‘marriage first, then kids.’ thing. You only liked watching his ears turn red and warm whenever you’d try and tempt him with having sex without a condom.

You didn’t think much of it- unknowing of the temptation brewing in Naoya’s mind with every waking day he didn’t marry you. 

Every time you whispered a temptation in his ear- the mental image of you waiting for him at home, swelled with his child and the future of his clan—Naoya was hanging on a very thin thread. 

And once he finally had the guts to ask you- it took very little time for the wedding to be planned. The thought of children was nowhere near your mind on the day. 

A small ceremony with his family, prancing you around like some trophy in front of the elders. 

And that night- Naoya held a gentle hand as he undid the little buttons of your wedding dress- carefully unwrapping you from the costly lace. 

You found it odd- sure. Naoya wasn’t usually the type to take things slow and gentle in this department. 

But when you looked at him, his hips between your knees with your back on the bed. Looking up at Naoya as he undid the buttons of his dress shirt- “We’re not stopping till you’re pregnant.” he huffed, tossing his shirt aside and easing himself onto the bed. 

Had you known your little temptations and offers of unprotected sex would cause his brain to rewire the idea of having kids- you still would’ve done it. Maybe with a little more tact though. 

Naoya no longer saw it as another responsibility of being head of the clan- he saw it as an opportunity to breed you again- and again. Till you were so full there was no other choice than to get pregnant. 

Suguru Geto

All it took was Suguru showing you pictures of him and the two girls he adopted when he left Jujutsu High and telling you countless stories behind the photos for you to look at him differently. 

You saw a certain change in the way you looked at him. No longer a father figure to two teenage girls, you saw him as an actual father. 

Mouthy and mean as those girls could be, you saw how gentle he was with them anyway. And you knew he could make a phenomenal father. 

You chose a tactless form of asking him. Sitting at the table eating breakfast- looking at his soft expression. 

“Would you be a dad again?” 

Suguru looked at you with furrowed eyebrows- “...Again?” unsure of when the first time he became a father was. 

You rolled your eyes, urging him to answer the question with a sigh. 

“Depends.” Geto murmured, looking back down to his phone and earning a kick from your socked foot. 

You scoffed, “On?” 

“If we are stable- money wise, and if the conditions are right.” he grinned, wondering where this topic came from. 

Your cheeks tingled in the slightest when he used ‘we’ to refer to becoming parents, answering another question you had. 

Suguru thought back to the question again, lightly raising his eyebrows at realizing what you were asking. 

“With…You?” 

You laughed- “No Suguru- with your next partner.” tone full of sarcasm as he rolled his eyes. 

“I would be open..?” he squinted, trying to gauge where you stood on this. Watching your face go unchanged at his response- wanting to hear the truth, not just something that he said catered to your opinion. “...To it?”

You grinned, “Suguru, this isn’t a trick question. Just answer honestly.” assuring him that this was a necessary conversation in a relationship. 

He gulped lightly, trying to shake away the worries of saying the wrong thing. Placing his phone on the table and looking at you with his hands between his knees. “I would love-” he grinned, cheeks blushed and avoidant of your gaze. “To have children with you.” 

You couldn’t help the shy little laugh that left your lips- “But we are a smidge too young- don’t you think?” you grinned, watching his head nod with a scoffing smile. 

“I did the teen dad thing- so maybe a little too young.” he joked- 

You nodded agreeingly, looking at him with love filled eyes- “We’ll wait till we are 40.” you grinned, watching his shoulders move in a small giggle. 

“Till 50- if we can.” 

Kento Nanami

You both had been toying with the idea of children. Small comments like, “Awe Ken-” looking at him with a soft smile. “You would be a wonderful dad.” whenever he talked about the fears of becoming a father. 

The talk of kids was spoken early in your relationship. Often were the times when the conversation of how many would come up a few minutes before bed. 

Playing with your hand in the dark, lying on your back with Nanami beside you. 

“How many?” You asked softly- hearing Nanami hum, close to falling asleep. 

A low exhale left his lips; “Two. Maybe three.” His voice husky from how close he was to falling asleep. But he was always happy to answer your questions- knowing they would keep you up if he didn’t answer. 

Rolling over onto your side and placing your head on his chest, “Twins?” you asked with a smile. Picturing the future with him as he put his hand onto your back.

Nanami let out a soft exhale with a smile. “Twins are a handful,” he spoke softly, his eyes daring to drift off to sleep as you caressed his torso.

You thought about it- remembering that you would have to carry them. “Okay. No twins.” 

Hearing his heartbeat against your ear as you thought of another question. 

“When?” 

Nanami gruffed a soft laugh, rubbing small circles on your back. “We’d have to be married first.” he mumbled. 

“Then wait a year or two.” his voice dwindling its tone as he eased into the exhaustion.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Why?” softly blinking your eyes. 

“A year of blissful marital life before children come into the picture.” Nanami spoke, half asleep, as the tiny part of his brain that filtered his words refused to work. 

You grinned, “You wanna marry me?” softly giggling against his chest.

Nanami sighed- pressing his hand onto your back a little firmer, holding you close. “I do. Dunno why I haven’t ask you yet.” his words breathy and bordering on sleeping. 

“Should get on that-” he exhaled, hearing his breathing ease into a heavier pattern against your ear.

After that, conversations about children only came up more and more. There was talk of names and if you’d move into a house instead of an apartment. 

Slowly your own baby fever stuck onto him- you sending tiktoks of the chunky babies you’d get on your fyp didn’t help either. 

The words “Practicing won’t hurt” were uttered whenever you mentioned the word breeding. All too thankful to the iud you had, knowing the apartment would be crawling with children if you didn’t have it. 

Hiromi Higuruma

When you started letting Hiromi cum inside- he kinda just assumed that you were on something. Never hesitating to give you what you asked him for. 

But Hiromi started getting the hints that you had a particular itch in your brain that only he could scratch. 

The topic came up when you joined him for lunch- sitting outside a sandwich shop and hearing Hiromi talk about a case debriefing after this. 

Too focused on telling you about it before he realized you had stopped listening. 

Eyes looking off to the side and your thumbs twiddling in your lap. 

“Honey?” he asked, looking in the direction you were looking and seeing a mother playing with her child. Snapping your gaze back to him- 

“Sorry.” Softly exhaling, “Sorry- you were saying?” 

Hiromi furrowed his eyebrows, watching your eyes glimmer with a nervous light. Reaching a hand out to yours, “What’s wrong?” he asked- all too intuitive at what the look on your face meant. 

“Nothing- it’s okay.” Squeezing his hand assuringly. 

Hiromi raised a brow- parting his lips about to speak only for you to interrupt him. 

“Do you want kids?” preferring to rip the bandaid off rather than ease into a conversation. 

He inhaled again- only for you to speak again. “With me. I mean.” 

The corners of his lips curled, almost in a teasing smile. 

Hiromi sighed, thinking about the question and looking down to his half-finished sandwich. 

“I’ve never been in a relationship serious enough for the talk of children to come up.” he grinned, leaving your question unanswered. 

“You’ve never thought about it?” holding his hand tightly. Scared that you were illusioning yourself into a future Hiromi didn’t want. 

Hiromi tilted his head- thinking about it.

“I think I do…?” 

You pursed your lips, unsatisfied with the half answer. And Hiromi let out a blushed scoff- “If wanting kids meant wanting them with you- i do.” he clarified. Earning for you to look at him with soft eyes and a wiggling pout. 

“You mean-?” you pouted, looking at him with a soft expression. 

His eyes widened at the sudden severity in your gaze, not knowing how much his confirmation meant to you. 

Raising his hand to your lips and pressing a light peck on his knuckles “Can we?” 

“...Now?” 

You scoffed, “No, not now.” with a soft smile.

Hiromi exhaled, thinking of having an actual child- “How ’bout we focus on getting married first?” 

Choso Kamo

Ever since the first time you had sex- Choso always finished inside, no patience nor ability to time his orgasm and pull out in time. 

Not recalling the repercussions of unprotected sex- nor really caring. 

And when the conversation of children came up- You insisted on giving him an army of children. “I think it’s what you deserve.” To which he looked at you as though something awakened in his mind when you said that. 

While on dates, he would see an overly large family struggling to keep the many children in check. He would look at you and remember what you had said. 

‘An army of children.’

Between the two of you- he caught babyfever first. 

Walking through a strip mall- looking for a new pair of shoes when you passed a baby store. 

Choso tugged your hand, looking at you eagerly and leading you into the store. “Just to look,” he said. 

Holding onto a tiny pair of shoes, looking at you, and presenting them in his palm. “Are these really meant to fit a child?” 

You let out a small giggle, nodding your head yes and watching him prattle around the store. 

Asking you questions- as though you had any more idea than he did. 

Watching your face uninterested in the window shopping he was doing- “You don’t want to have kids anymore?” furrowed eyebrows and determined to cut the window shopping if you didn’t. 

You grinned, “Of course I still want to have kids.” taking his hand and placing it on your tummy as though you were already pregnant. 

Eyes wide and cheeks pink as he rested his hand onto your tummy. “You gotta pump a baby in me first.” Smiling at the fact he was already looking for things for a child that hadn’t been conceived yet. 

His mind sparked the idea of watching you grow big with his child. Made his eye twitch knowing that if you acted on your promise. That image wouldn’t be just an idea in Choso’s mind. 

Marriage didn’t make a difference to him- only a meaningless piece of paper. Like a license, or a ssn number, or money. (he’s in denial)

So the next time you had intercourse- Choso accidentally overstimulated himself. Keeping your words of ‘Pump a baby in me.’ in mind as you allowed him to pump you full of potential children. 

You did say an army of them. And Choso was more than happy to assist in creating the small army. 

-

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭: play fighting with the jjk men!

[nkogneatho]

i was thinking about gojo in his 40s. the white hair never losing it's shine because he uses expensive hair care. but no money can hide the aging. which is why there's a faint hint of wrinkles appearing near his eyes, his hands rougher than usual when they caress your waist. how you tiptoe your way to give him a peck and you feels his white stubble graze your cheeks. after all these years, he is still an eye candy. his fashion sense never dropped. he decorates himself in most luxurious suits and casuals. although his taste in cologne has changed. he prefers more earthy or woody scent than metallic ones. he looks his age, no doubt. but he has maintained himself in such a way that even after 12 years later, he still manages to take breaths away with his appearance and mannerisms. he is more mature now (funny how the 28 year old him wasn't) but you know the kid inside you never dies so he pulls occasional pranks on his students.

his voice is a little hoarse now but it still turns soft when he speaks to you. demeanor more cold now but his eyes still perks up when he sees you. and when you embrace him in your arms, he feels home. not a care in the world. like he is eighteen again, falling in love for the first time.

[inmaki]

number one sorcerer (and virgin) .

synopsis: req! in which your boyfriend — notorious for boasting about how good he is in bed — turns out to be all bark and no bite (until you give him some guidance, at least).

pairing: virgin!switch!gojo x f!reader

wc: est. 6k?

incl: unprotected sex, pull-out method, lots of dirty talk, a bit of teaching gojo, petnames, manhandling, size kink, clit play, praise kink, edging (himself), teasing, mocking, fingering, oral (f + slight m), cum swallowing

a/n: ty for awakening smtn in me anon it was nice to be writing a full fic again!! hope im not too rusty,, this is straight up filth tho so mdni

back when satoru and you were just friends, he liked to make it very clear to your circle of peers that he wasn’t just good at sex.

no, according to himself, he was some kind of sex god — to match his power level in sorcery, of course.

and obviously, who was anyone to think otherwise? the great gojo satoru; such a cocky and confident demeanour paired with angelic white hair, piercing blue eyes, and a tall sculpted body that other guys at the gym double-take at. him..? a virgin? hah! good one.

satoru believes that he’s done a rather spectacular job at keeping his reputation sky-high.

the only problem was.. now he had a girlfriend with high expectations to please.

since the day you’d gotten together — going multiple months strong — satoru was starting to sweat more and more knowing that his rather crucial fabrication was bound to be brought up sooner or later. you had your needs just like him, and satoru wouldn’t blame you if you were a bit worried about why he hasn’t initiated anything; y’know, since he was supposedly eros in human form and all that.

little did you know your boyfriend felt equally frustrated. for slightly different reasons.

“bro, it’d be hot if she was a virgin, but me?!” flopping back against the armrest, gojo lets out a theatrical groan while his best friend — the only other person to know of his dark secret — snickers against the cushions nearby.

“everything’d be fine if you didn’t pretend to be some incubus that makes girls cum with a snap of his finger,” geto quips unhelpfully.

satoru lifts his head, sneering when he realizes that the raven-haired man was much too busy scrolling on his phone to notice how he’s resting a pair of dirty shoes on his white couch. “that would be pretty cool..” when he only receives a disgusted glance, he huffs, suddenly feeling a bit vulnerable as his thoughts wander further. “how’m i even gonna tell her? what if she doesn’t trust me anymore?”

at last, suguru looks up with a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “you know y/n isn’t like that. just.. wait for her to initiate something and go with the flow,” he advises, lips curling into a knowing smirk.

“you find a way to be good at everything, anyway, toru. she’ll be begging for you in no time.”

as usual, geto knows him too well, because those last few words have gojo shooting up from the sofa with a grin. “ya think so?”

“hell yeah, man.” the two idiots end the discussion by dapping each other up, a confident gleam in both of their eyes.

only a couple days later, satoru discovers that going with the flow isn’t as easy as suguru advised. with your plush lips sucking his bottom one through occasional moans, along with a delicate pair of nails scratching perfectly at his undercut, he already felt himself getting breathless and aroused like a teenager.

perhaps you’ve put him under a spell; how is it that he lasts through prolonged battles while barely breaking a sweat, but having your cute hand move to rub up on his abs and pecs send his nerves into overdrive? it wasn’t like making out wasn’t uncommon for the two of you, this time it just felt so passionate with the way your hips moved to straddle his, tongue practically begging for entrance while the movie on screen was left long forgotten.

gojo can’t help but groan as your muscle explores his mouth, core ever so smoothly grinding on his bulge and igniting heat through his entire body. even as you pull away to take a breath, his grip on your waist remains stable as if you’d disappear at any moment— growing even tighter with the way you bore into his eyes hungrily. “satoru..”

your unusually seductive voice makes him audibly gulp. “y— yeah?” he whispers, glancing to the hand thats now moving down over his grey sweats. shit, this was too much, was he dreaming? he should do something, pinch himself before—

“touch me, please?” as you voice your request, you squeeze his dick so nicely that satoru swears he nearly explodes in his boxers.

he swallows, words getting lost in his throat. “i— i uh...”

for the first time in history, satoru has been rendered speechless, and you visibly panic at this realization. yet when you try to carefully maneuver off his lap and give him space, the clutch on your waist intensifies. “what— are you okay? what’s wrong?” you murmur, brows creasing with concern.

though you never brought it up, satoru’s worry about your confusion was correct; you’d been expecting him to jump your bones a week into your relationship, but seeing how he never forced anything and remained respectful was cute.. at first. after a month of rejection and being pushed away whenever things got too heated, insecurities were bound to start brewing inside you.

he better have a damn good explanation.

“i’m fine,” he reassures, “it’s just— i should probably tell you something..” refusing to meet your eyes, the sorcerer resorts to drawing shapes against the skin under your t-shirt. in other situations, this would feel soothing, relaxing even — but currently, his lacking and lingering touch made you want to rip the hairs off your head.

all you wanted was to finally get a taste of your steaming hot boyfriend. what could he possibly need to say right now? you ponder, hasn’t he been dying to finally show off how amazing he is in bed?

“yes..?”

“it’s actually a funny story, ahaha..” he stalls, chuckling nervously as you turn his jaw to make eye contact. a feeling of impatience and neediness pulls through you, but you contain yourself with a deep breath.

“spit it out, satoru.”

there was no going back now, right? “so.. i’ve uh— i’ve never actually done this before.”

you blink.

“you’re a virgin?”

it was difficult to believe your own words; it sounded wrong no matter how hard you tried to wrap your head around it. satoru being inexperienced? the satoru with a rock hard 6 pack? the satoru with biceps that bulge out of his shirts and a face sharp enough to be sculpted by aphrodite herself? your satoru?

it sounded ridiculous, but the ugly pout rising across his lips tells you that it wasn’t a prank after all. “hey, don’t call me that, now it sounds way worse!”

a sigh escapes your lips, arms folded across your chest. “so all those never have i ever games and stories you told about one night stands were— mph!" before you know it, a large hand is covering your mouth.

“listen, how about we talk about this after having some fun?” a surprisingly determined gleam shines in your boyfriend’s icy blue eyes, making your thighs clench together in excitement.

who were you to say no to that?

—

next thing you know, pillows support your back as a shirtless satoru lies directly in front of your clothed crotch, hot breath making you wiggle around impatiently.

“jus— just take it off me, toru. so damn slow—“

“baby,” he scolds, looking genuinely upset, “this is my first time seeing a pussy in real life and you’re ruining it with your lack of patience.”

you can only roll your eyes and groan, head flopping back against the cushions in boredom. there was no way to predict how satoru’s first time would go, but you never expected it’d be this agonizing on your end — nor that he’d be so bossy.

though luckily, after another deep breath, your panties are gently tugged down your legs, and satoru can only inhale as he watches your poor hole clench around nothing. it only made sense that after all that dry humping and making out that your neediness increased, and it didn’t help that you could clearly see the way satoru was not only rock hard, but much bigger than average through his grey sweats.

“ooh.. oh shit..” like the invasive pervert he is, satoru moves even closer to the point where your thighs rest on his muscular shoulders before taking two fingers to spread your lips apart. this way, he has a clear view of the place that needs him most, and it makes a furious blush blossom on your cheeks.

“s— satoru.. what are you doing?” now you felt like the virgin, desperately attempting to shut your legs with no avail. damn this big idiot and his strength.

suddenly, his piercing eyes snap up to you, a feral look in his gaze. “shit, how’m i gonna fit in this little hole?”

you can’t deny the way his dirty words does something to you — not that you’d ever admit it. “that’s why you gotta prep me, toru. y’know..” you gulp, “fingering, or like.. eating me out.”

in response, you get a cheshire grin. “sounds fun. show me how you do it, sweets.”

“w-what?”

satoru leans back, attemping to hold in a mischievous smile. “how else am i gonna learn?”

even masturbating alone makes you flush in slight embarassment, so doing it in front of someone else — your cheeky, shamleess boyfriend no less — had you drowning in nerves. the bigger problem was that his words held a strong point; you’re supposed to be teaching him for his first time and ensuring it’s as enjoyable as possible.

these reminders make you mumble out a gentle fine, breath stuttering as you spread your legs further for the man in front of you.

satoru is now resting his weight on the palms of his hands, looking laid back and relaxed, but evidently still focused at the way your fingers move to unclasp your bra with skill. “damn..” as your tits are freed, he finds himself needing to adjust his sweatpants and nearly letting out a pathetic noise you would definitely tease him for.

you gulp, trying to ignore his blatant gawking. “it’s good to.. y’know, tease a bit before getting straight to it. makes it feel better — for me, at least,” you explain while massaging your chest, hiding surprise at the way he sternly nods in understanding.

now that you think about it, something tells you this is the most focused satoru has ever been in a learning environment.

after a bit more pinching and fondling, your hands slide down to your stomach and thighs, trying to get your breathing to relax. having gojo watch you do something so private was.. surreal, but you know for a fact you’ve never been this wet before, if that meant anything.

once you finally move down to your most intimate part, satoru takes a deep breath. he watches as you use your fingers to reveal a small bundle of nerves, pulsing and desperate for attention. “this is the clit, toru. s’very important.”

his eyes light up. “oh, i know that one!” he announces proudly, “i remember suguru saying i have to.. uh, worship it or something.”

you snicker at the thought of geto giving out sex pointers. “mhm, sometimes penetration isn’t enough, so you need to give it attention or i can’t really finish.”

gently, you start massaging the bud in circles, humming at the feeling of finally getting some type of relief. you move down to your hole to collect some of your wetness before bringing it back up, letting out a moan in satisfaction.

the way satoru licks his lips as you finally plunge a finger into your wetness has you shivering, but you remind yourself that for now, this was simply a demonstration and that you’d get a taste of him later.

after adding another, you attempt to reach your sweet spot by curling upwards, but it seems that even your hopelessly inexperienced boyfriend could tell that it was getting nowhere.

“aw,” he pouts teasingly, “lil’ fingers can’t reach anything, huh?”

“shut— shut up, satoru.”

before you know it, he’s moved onto his stomach again, face to face with your pussy and gripping your now soaked fingers. “you use these pathetic things when y’masturbate, huh? imagining my dick while having such tiny fingers up your cunt? kinda offended, babe..”

you feel your tummy flip, where did he learn to talk like that?

“do you have to be so vulg—“ you’re cut off by a choking gasp as a warm, wet muscle licks a stripe from your hole all the way to your clit.

“thanks for the lesson. ‘think i got it from here,” is all satoru says before he’s diving in, slurping up as much of your essence as possible before latching his plush lips right onto your poor little clit.

you can’t help but wiggle around at the jump in stimulation, but that only lasts about five seconds before a muscular arm presses you firmly against the mattress, rendering you trapped and unable to escape to his ministrations.

“hey, slow down!” your words are coincidentally yelped out right as he wiggles a much bigger finger into you. it explores your insides eagerly, caressing and feeling up what satoru believes will be his new favourite place.

“wow..” sluuurp, “so warm n’ soft in here..” he happily mumbles against your pussy. the vibrations of his now deeper voice shoot through you like electricity, eliciting another choked whine from your throat.

it felt like he was just toying with you; looking way too content drinking up everything you offered, fluid rushing down his chin and nose pushed firmly against your pelvis to inhale your scent.

suddenly, he’s jabbing his fingertip right into that pocket of sunshine that makes your eyes roll back, a loud whimper leaving your throat before you could stop it. “satoru, right there!” he swiftly seperates from your clit just to mumble out a here? in confirmation, prodding your sweet spot over and over in record breaking speed.

when you nod, he grins smugly, now adding another finger to stretch you further. “mmmph, this is pretty fun. could lie here all night.”

luckily, you barely process his words, much too busy enjoying the best finger-fuck of your life — and this was only his first time, you remember, what will the bastard do to you once he’s got some practice in?

a shaking hand tumbles into his snowy locks, attempting to pull him back weakly. “wait, m’gonna cum, toru—“

gojo growls almost animalistically, tugging your hand back onto the sheets. “then fuckin’ do it,” he demands. “c’mon, i’ve earned it, right?” then, he sucks even harder, fingers slamming and curling and making the loudest squelch you’ve ever heard.

“see?” he continues, “lil’ cunt wants to cum so bad for me. knows who 'er owner is already.” his filthy words definitely take part in the way your orgasm hits like a train, body shaking and toes curling as you let the feeling of bliss take over you. you flinch at how swiftly his tongue licks up everything you give him, the fingers in his hair tugging harder in overstimulation.

“toruuuuu..”

he simpers, tasting his cum-covered lips. “yeeees?”

“this— this is your first time, i should be making you feel good.”

slowly but surely, your eyes reopen, meeting your boyfriend’s relaxed gaze as he rubs your thigh affectionately. “dunno what you’re talking about, i felt pretty good just now.” when you only pout further, he snickers, pushing some of his bangs back smoothly. “c’mon, there’s lots of time for you to get me off later. m’ too excited for the main event..”

at last, he reaches for his sweatpants, more than excited to tug them down and finally give his aching cock some freedom. satoru doesn’t think he’s ever had a more painful boner in his life, but it was all worth seeing you release all over his tongue and fingers.

right as he finishes untying the knot, pale fingers drifting up to the waistband, you’re smacking him away to make room for your own hands. he watches with an open mouth as you pull his boxers down along with his pants, leaky, hard cock springing free and nearly hitting you in the face.

shit, of course his dick is perfect too. with a bit of white hair at the base, bulging veins adorned the entirety of his massive length, and the tip — shit, the tip was even bigger than the rest, mushroom shaped and angry red. his balls looked equally agitated and full — the epitome of breeder balls, and you gulped at the thought of him filling you up with everything they had.

now his question from earlier made sense, and he seems to be enjoying the realization on your face from his spot kneeling on the bed. “like what’cha see?” he coos, one big hand lowering to relieve the aching in his balls.

“toru, i don’t know if you’ll even fit. why— why do you have to be so big?” it’s annoying, you want to say — but the white-haired man has already laid back and manhandled you onto his chiseled stomach, a yelp escaping you at his suddenness.

he’s smiling so hard at your little dilemma that it’s almost sick, hands resting behind his head cockily. “tell me more while you ride me, baby.”

after processing that all you’ve been doing is feeding his size kink and inflating his already massive ego, you frown. “i’m serious, toru!”

“what!? i’m serious too!” the man defends with fake innocence, blue eyes shining in glee. “you’re the expert here, remember? ‘supposed to be teaching me how it’s done.”

all you do is grumble whilst moving down to sit between the sorcerer’s thighs, lightly prepping him with your fist and a dribble of spit from your mouth that has the white-haired male biting his lip. “fuck..” satoru can’t recall how many times he’s masturbated to the mental image of this exact moment, but now that it was finally happening, he promised himself to savor it as much as possible.

when you move to finally straddle him, hole hovering just above his length, he begins bucking his hips up desperately. “hurryyy…”

“are you in heat or something?” you snort, giving him a dirty glare as if you weren’t about to let him inside you.

“for you? yeah.” satoru offers you a cheesy wink and grin that dissipates the second your warmth encloses his aching tip. his hands slowly move up to grip your waist, jaw clenching in an attempt to not slam you down to his balls right then.

“ngh… fuuuck, baby,” he groans as you ever so carefully move down another inch. “jesus.. you’re sooo damn tight. dunno’ how you’re even taking me..”

you squeeze your eyes shut in attempt to bare the discomfort for him, a slight crease growing between your brows. “satoru, fuck— hurts..” he immediately reopens his eyes in worry, searching for a way to take your pain away.

yes, he could already tell that he enjoyed being meaner with you in bed — but it’s never fun if you don’t feel good as well. though he luckily recalls your lesson from earlier, moving a soft thumb down to massage your clit in tight circles.

when you jolt and nearly faceplant into his neck, he only grins proudly, now using one veiny hand to help push you further onto him. “theeere we go.. aw, feel better?”

“mhm, feels full..” you mumble back, looking down to see that you — unbelievably — still had a couple inches to go.

satoru feels like he’s about to burst on the other hand, thriving in pure ecstasy at the feeling of your walls massaging him just perfectly. he can’t help but thrust up and force his last inches inside you, an echoing smack! of skin against skin singing through the room and eliciting a startled yelp from your throat.

“toru!” despite your scolding, you can’t deny the perfection in which his tip kissed your g-spot effortlessly. his hands felt ever so soothing, comfortingly running up and down as you sat impaled on his cock, wiggling around to get comfortable and ruining him in the process.

just as you start to adjust, you feel yourself being lifted up. “m’ sorry sweets..” gojo suddenly voices, “i can’t..”

“huh? what do you m—ah!” you’re flipped onto your back before you know it, knees resting on the shoulders of your boyfriend who has a gleam in his pupils that you’ve quite frankly never seen before; he looked feral.

satoru carefully pulls out until only his tip is encased in your warmth, and everything is calm for a moment. you both take a deep breath, and he smiles down at your already fucked-out face with pride. “satoru—“

then he’s pushing back in with all the strength his massive hips can produce, and you think if it weren’t for his hands wrapped around your thighs, you would’ve got pushed off the bed entirely. you unintentionally let out the loudest sound of the night, and this sets him off.

now he was getting brutal, bullying your cunt with hit after hit against the spot that has drool dripping down your cheek and eyes crossing. you can’t even stop the pathetic noises and symphonies of right there! that leave your lips, no matter how hot your cheeks flush in embarrassment. it felt as though every time his dick jabbed back in he was right up in your tummy, veins pulsing and ensuring your pussy is molded to the perfect sleeve for him.

“toru, shit— nghh, faster, please! feels s’good!”

“nghh, toru, faster! ahaha..” he mocks you — of course he does, but picks up the pace nonetheless — now holding your lower body up so that your knees dangle higher over his shoulders and each stroke is angled exactly where you want him. “so cute when you’re gettin’ stuffed full, baby.”

he leers as you send him the harshest expression you can manage, reaching down for your clit and giggling as you start squirming in an attempt to escape the overwhelming pleasure. this bastard is having way too much fun, you realize, moans being forced out of you almost tauntingly.

tonight you discover that satoru’s way of fucking is rather animalistic, frantic, thrilling, and with the sole purpose of making you both feel as good as possible. if you want him to go slow or make love to you, you’d probably have to ask beforehand — or perhaps tie him up so you could have your fun in peace.

if your insides weren’t being rearranged, you’d grin at the thought of your boyfriend restrained and at your mercy. another night, you promise yourself.

“tightest pussy ever f’my first time baby.. haah.. can’t believe i’ve been missin’ out on this.” for once, something praising comes out of his big mouth, breathes getting cut short every time you involuntarily squeeze him harder. he swears there’s no better feeling then what you were giving him right now, not even singlehandedly resurrecting himself using the reversed curse technique.

and while no injuries have ever left a scar on gojo satoru, he decides that the claw marks you’re ruthlessly digging into his back will stay as long as his body allows — why should he hide how good he’s made you feel despite being a virgin an hour prior?

maybe if he’s in the mood to brag, he’ll show them to suguru later.

“feels good toru, fuckin’ me so good,” you feel the way his whole body reacts to your praises, a deep growl melting from his lips as the sounds of skin slapping increasingly grows in volume.

“babyyy,” he pants, legs being held higher while he digs deeper into your guts, “m’gonna cum.. need you to cum with me.“ the twitching of his length inside you gave away the fact that gojo has practically been on the edge ever since he pushed into you — and while he knows it’s completely normal to cum prematurely on your first time, when has he ever not gone above expectations?

in a split second you’re flipped onto your hands and knees, veiny hands pushing you into a deep arch while your boyfriend gives his body a moment to relax, pinching his base (a rather perverted method he’s learned by edging himself while masturbating) between his thumb and pointer.

when you needily wiggle your hips in an attempt to find his cock again, he grins boyishly. “lookin’ for this?” he sings the words right before plunging his entire length back into you, abusing your g-spot while a lanky finger impressively finds the bud between your legs right away (a skill that most ‘experienced’ men you’ve previously been with fail to achieve), circling and pinching in a frantic attempt to make your orgasms arrive in sync.

“fucking hell.." you whine, the new angle making his tip bump against spots that have never been rubbed before. “can feel you so deep..”

“oh yeah?” his bicep pulls you up so your head rests on his broad shoulder, now victim to the filth being whispered directly into your ear. “m’ i doing good? fuckin’ this lil’ pussy nice and deep like she needs?”

when you nod, he beams like a maniac, seemingly encouraged to pound you even harder as his hips pick up the pace. “damn, ‘think i’m already a pro at this, huh?”

for the sake of your sanity, you ignore his bragging. “toru, don’t stop. i’m— i’m gonna..”

“you’re gonnaaa?” he derides, kissing the corner of your lip sweetly. “tell me, baby.”

“gonna cum for you, please.” satoru almost decides to fill you up at those words, but his self control is just a bit stronger. he feels the way your cunt is pulsing, body practically shaking as you get closer and closer to release, and he’s determined to help you reach it.

his thrusts get a bit sloppier, and you’re too busy basking in your own pleasure to see the eye-candy that is gojo biting his swollen lips, sweat dripping down his temples all the way to his solid abs, snowy bangs a tad bit moist against his forehead. he looked like the definition of temptation; straight out of a wet dream with stamina that seemingly never declined.

“me too, baby. c’mon, cum on this dick. s’all yours to ruin.”

you moan as you allow yourself to let go, toes curling and nails digging into his toned forearms ecstatically. “thaaat’s it, good girl.. ahah.. such a good girl f’me.” he talks you through it as if he’s done so a million times, both of you looking down to watch your release coat his dick and the crumpled sheets below.

at his praise, you squeeze him just a bit tighter, making his lips curl up in interest. “my girl likes being praised, huh? yeah.. doing so good makin’ a mess on me..”

he pulls out, carefully lowering you to the mattress before tugging on his dick in hopes of reaching his own peak. satoru forces himself to open his eyes just enough to admire the view of you fucked out below him, body shaking slightly as you recover from the intense waves of your orgasm.

“y/n,” he abruptly whines, patting your shoulder with a subtle urgency in his voice.

“..mhmm?”

“where can i cum? quick baby— please, i’ve been holding this for way too long—“ this has your body moving, eyes popping open as you swiftly bend down so your mouth hovers directly in front of him.

you replace his fist with yours as soft lips move to suckle harsly on his leaking tip, and now it’s gojo who has his eyes rolling back; whimpers flying out of his throat every time your tongue massages the delicate underside, sending visible shocks through his body. “fuck!” he can only curse and run his fingers through your hair for support while you pump him dry. “just like that, good.. haah.. good fuckin’ girl, shiiit.”

you’ve never seen your boyfriend — the strongest — look so pathetic and desperate, but it only spurs you on further, enjoying the way he continues to blabber about how pretty you are and how he’s gonna fill your mouth like he would your pussy. in response, you greedily hum around him, licking through his slit as if you were pleading the little hole to give you what you deserved.

and only moments later, satoru’s words become reality; though he attempts to keep revelling in the feeling of your warm lips and hands, his body stills in place instinctively, one last warning tumbling out of his throat as your mouth is flooded with rope after rope of bitterly sweet fluid.

it seems like your accusations about his breeder balls were correct, because once it starts it seemingly never ends; cum now overflowing from the corners of your lips as you struggle to swallow frequently enough to not choke on how much he deposits.

meanwhile, gojo feels like he is quite literally ascending, everything becoming unimportant next to you and the feeling of pleasure being forced through him like an overwhelming earthquake, pulse after pulse as you suck him for all he’s worth.

“thas’ right.. take every damn drop, baby.” when satoru looks down and earns a glimpse of the white fluid trickling down your chin, his dick twitches in your mouth. “god, you’re so sexy..”

once he was done, you both flop onto the bed in exhaustion, and while the vulnerable moment has utmost potential to become something cute and memorable, a certain blue-eyed bastard decides to open his mouth once again.

“what’re you huffin’ and puffin’ for?” he sasses, shamelessly eyeing the way your tits rose and fell with every breath you took. “all you did was lie there while i had a full body workout!”

you take a very deep breath. “i just let you put your dick inside me. shut the fuck up.”

at your reminder of what’d just occurred, he grins like an idiot. “you’re right, thank you.” they’re soft, but he ensures his words are as audible and genuine as he can make them.

satoru isn’t exactly the best with words, but he knows damn well that — despite all the bullshit he'd spouted at those parties — you’re the only person he wanted to have his first time with, and the fact that you allowed his wish to become reality is something he’ll forever be grateful for.

“i love you..” you soften. “even if you’re a pillow princess.” you stiffen again.

nothing could stay lovey-dovey with him for too long.

a fake cry is pulled from his lips as you rudely smack his shoulder. “i tried to ride you but you flipped me over after ten seconds!”

“it’s not my fault you're as slow as a fuckin' snail!”

somehow, you both make it to the washroom despite all the banter. just as you bend over in hopes of starting the shower up, a mean spank is delivered to your ass.

when you turn to meet the culprit, he only narrows his eyes at you playfully. “round two, m’lady?” it’s almost like his voice lowers on purpose, dirty words rumbling in his throat, knowing what it did to your body.

you do your best to send him a disappointed glance anyway. “day one of not being a virgin and you’re already the horniest man i know.”

after following you inside, his fluffy hair flattens from the steamy water before nudging you back, encasing you between him and the solid wall.

“i might be willing to overlook the fact that you know other horny men if you agree to some very loving, extremely intimate making out,” he requests with a smirk, sleek nose poking yours in a much gentler way than expected.

you still send him a distrusting raise of your brow. “only making out, huh?”

the dirty smirk he sends you is all you need to know, along with his hardened dick pressing against your thigh as he moves in to kiss you.

what have you gotten yourself into?

mlist! gojo showing off his back scratches! <- if you enjoy silly virgin gojo pls lmk in the reblogs, comments, or asks <3

© inmaki on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

tags: @gojoallmine @allofffmypeaches @haitaniholic @pandoraium

[slttygeto]

HUSBAND SUGURU! + PREGNANCY ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

tags: fem! reader, husband suguru!, nsfw, suguru is very hesitant about being a dad, but isnt forced into this :), reader is very motherly, dirty talk and talk about getting off the pill and being bred.

word count: 2,1k

Husband Suguru! whom before you even got married, sat you down and mentioned to you how starting a family wasn’t something he was looking forward to. you know of his past, of the trauma he’s been through. he fully expects you to break up with him when he tells you that, knows how much you want to have a baby of your own, but you don’t. instead, you cradle him in your arms and tell him that you love him and appreciate what you have right now, not what you don’t even see in the picture.

Husband Suguru! who swears he hasn’t changed his mind about babies, about starting a family in general even three years into the marriage. but when he sees you with your friend’s baby, the glow on your face, the motherly instinct—how you gently place your hand on the baby’s head, rock her back and forth and coo at her softly while her mother gets her food ready, his heart feels as though it is about to explode.

“There there baby girl,” your voice is barely above a whisper, and when the baby cries, your lip juts out and you pull the infant towards your chest in an attempt at soothing her. your eyes find his where he is sitting on the couch, and the lighthearted chuckle you give him pulls a nervous one out of his body. you are now convinced that your husband would never ever change his mind based on the horror painting his features as he turns to your friend’s husband to strike a conversation. but in reality, the topic of their conversation is all too surprising.

“Has it been difficult? You know, managing a career and taking care of the baby,”

“Oh yeah very,” the other man admits but Suguru doesn’t detect a single hint of regret in his voice. “but yknow, look at that,” he point his glass of water in the direction of his wife and you holding the baby. “seeing my wife with our baby, our creation—seeing her act all motherly like that? Totally worth it.”

Husband Suguru! who starts to consider the idea of getting you pregnant. he hopes for the rational part of his brain to win over, rather than the horny, disgustingly perverted one. but when you walk out of the shower in a crop top, his mind drifts elsewhere—and suddenly, the image of your belly swollen with his kids floods his mind and he has to put a pillow on his crotch to hide the very evident bulge in his pants.

Husband Suguru! who once he calms down and takes care of his raging boner, texts Satoru in a hurry, asking if they could meet up tomorrow morning. your husband tells you of his plans and you hum sleepily, telling him how catching up with his best friend seems like a good idea. Suguru drops the bomb on his best friend the moment they sit down and the ivory haired’s jaw almost meets the floor.

“You mean you wanna be a dad?”

“I’m not…too sure,” Suguru looks conflicted, he is holding his head in his hands. he knows very well that this is a topic that should be discussed with you, since you were the other person of interest in the situation. but he would hate to give you false hope, he’s seen the way your eyes light up at the mention of a baby, at one of your friends or colleagues being pregnant, how there’s a disappointed look on your face that you try so hard to conceal when Suguru gives you a face in response of a pregnancy announcement. but you are so patient, so accepting, you’ve never once forced him into anything. and truth be told, he wanted to see what kind of mother you would be to your baby—and then toddler, and then teenager and adult—you’d have a life together with a new person who would adapt either your personality or his, with a face of the love of his life. your baby could have your eyes and nose, he’s always pointed them out—even before you started dating.

“Dude, do you or do you not want to have a baby?”

“I don’t know man, it’s hard to think of.”

“Because you are thinking too hard about it,” Satoru says nonchalantly and it irks Suguru a little.

“I am not thinking too hard about it—this is a new responsibility, what if I am not fit to be a dad? I could be a failure for all we know—what if I pussy out of it and—“

“I would kill you.” Satoru warns the man and Suguru doesn’t try to hide how he stiffens up. “I am not joking, I would find you and bring you back to her as a sack of bones,”

“I wouldn’t betray her like that…”

“You’re too focused on the aspect of being a bad dad rather than a good one—yknow, you really think that she’d marry someone she doesn’t see fit as the future father of her children?” Satoru has a point. you did mention to him once (when Suguru was nowhere to be seen at a party you all attended) how falling in love with him was the best thing that’s ever happened to you, but the one thing that would top it is if he became a father to your children. Satoru, knowing his best friend’s stance on the topic, reminded you of how terrified the man was of the idea and all you did was give him a reassuring, understanding wave of your hands.

“I know, but I just know he’d love them hard and make them feel as safe as he makes me feel.”

Husband Suguru! who doesn’t really try to bring up the topic of ‘trying for a baby’. he cringes at the thought, feels as though it makes the process less romantic and intimate and more of a robotic task. as he is stripping you of your clothes, he is silent and lets his eyes wander over your figure. you are extremely shy tonight, unable to meet his eyes as his rough, calloused hands brush over the skin of your boobs before bending down to be at eye level with them. he brings the flesh inside his mouth and sucks—and blood rushes down to his groin at the thought of them being filled with milk, heavy and swollen, more sensitive than usual. his teeth graze the skin at an attempt to catch your attention and your thighs squeeze as you meet his eyes.

“Sugu…” your smaller hands rest on his face as he pulls away from your boobs to plant a heated kiss to your lips, effectively pushing you back on the bed. your back gently hits the mattress, and your chest is heaving in anticipation, unsure of what his next move would be.

“Baby,” he finally speaks up, nose brushing against your stomach as he brings his lips to the skin. “how about you drop the pill tomorrow?” he knows how much of a horrible job he is doing at this, but he feels you move, supporting yourself on your elbows.

“w-why would I do that?” your eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, and Suguru wishes to brush his thumb over the tense skin of your forehead.

Suguru is shameless as he kisses further south, planting his kiss above the tuft of your pubic hair before pushing your panties to the side. He parts the lips and gives your clit a kiss before moving to your inner thighs.

“why not? It’s doing horrible things to your body—“ he brushes his nose over your clit as he speaks. “beside, we need you off the pill if we want a baby, don’t you think?” when you don’t react to his words, Suguru looks up only to find you staring down at him with parted lips and eyes glossed over with tears.

“…are you sure?” you ask softly, and your husband swears he could never say no to you if you asked like that all the time.

“very,”

Husband Suguru! who fucks you with a new purpose. each drive of his hips fueling the other to go harder, deeper, to keep pushing his cum inside you and plant his seed deep within. your cunt does a great job at showing Suguru how ecstatic and excited you are with his sudden change of heart. you keep squeezing around him, barely able to keep your sounds in—he fucks you so deeply that the sound of skin to skin is louder than your moans and his groans. when he puts you on all fours, the cum starts to drip out of you but he pushes it back in with two thick fingers, lips pressed to your ass cheek.

“want more?”

“mmm! please,” you whine when he aligns his tips with your folds and fixes your arch with a hand on the small of your back. the gasp that escapes your lips when he fucks into you hard makes Suguru chuckle and he rubs your sides, soothing you.

“no need to beg for it,” he leans down and presses a kiss to your nape. “I’d gladly fill you up.”

Husband Suguru! who stiffens up when you show him the positive pregnancy test. up until this point, he is in control of his emotions—he lets you cry in his arms about how scary all of this was, despite you saying you’ve always wanted a baby. he is supportive, understanding of the heightened emotions that you are experiencing—when he sees your tears turn into happy ones, only half of him is able to relax. clearly, he is nervous but he doesn’t wanna show it. not right now.

The first ultrasound during your pregnancy was nerve racking—your hand squeezed your husband’s as you stared at the screen showing what appeared to be your unborn baby. Very tiny, but still there.

“Okay mom and dad,” the doctor presses the ultrasound transducer a bit lower on your stomach, a small smile on his face. “I got some news for you.”

“Good?” your anxious voice has Suguru rubbing his thumb on the back on your hand.

“It depends, how long have you been trying for this baby?” You couldn’t exactly disclose of your very active sex life, but you do give the doctor hints that it was definitely wanted.

“Well, look over here—“ he points to the screen with his gloved finger, ushering Suguru to come closer. “Look over here dad, what do you see?”

Suguru swallows hard as he stares at the screen in confusion, unsure of what to say. “..a baby?”

“Babies. Congratulations, you’re pregnant with twins.”

Your husband whips his head towards you fast, and you cover your mouth in shock. This wasn’t planned—twins? And for a first time? You didn’t know if the tears streaming down your face were of excitement or fear that maybe you weren’t ready for this.

But Suguru still comforts you, holds you in his arms—tells you that maybe finding out the gender won’t make all of this sound scary anymore. He knew you never really had a preference for gender—you were a natural mom.

However, finding out the gender was an emotional experience for the same man who never thought he would become a father.

Husband Suguru! who tells Satoru to buy the gender reveal cake for you two. he doesn’t want to throw a party, and neither do you. finding out within the privacy of your own home seemed like the best option—you didn’t want to reveal that you were pregnant to any family members—at least not yet.

“Are you ready?” You hold your own glass as you wait for your husband to stand next to you. Your bump wasn’t that evident yet, but signs of pregnancy were starting to show on your body and it brought this warm feeling to Suguru’s body.

“Yeah, hold my hand.” You chuckle slightly at his request but comply either way. Each of you holds their own glass above the cake before looking away as you push it down—you hold your breath, Suguru rests his forehead on your shoulder as he mumbles something about not being able to look at the cake. But you muster up the courage and lift your glass, eyes wide and lips parted in shock.

“Sugu—“ you don’t need to tell him to look, he was already staring at the glass with teary eyes. The pink frosting wasn’t something he was expecting to see—he knew he was going to be happy with either but two little girls? His own baby girls—the thought of being a girl dad brings tears to his eyes and you’re quickly pulling him towards you.

“Oh baby,” you hold back your own tears as you comfort your emotional husband, his arms wrapped around your middle. You hear little sniffles and a hand rubs your back before feeling a pair of lips pressed to your forehead.

“Gonna be the prettiest mom to the prettiest girls. Ever.”   

note: my posts are all self indulgent at this point… enjoy :D

2023: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

[fairy-hub]

𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! jerking off, some cock sucking, begging, praise/degrading, they are sweet but mean, smacking you with a belt, choking you with the same belt, pain kink, light size kink, overstimulation/mindbreak/dumbification, dacryphilia, daddy said three times, squirting, hints of satoru eating suguru’s cum out of you, breeding/creampie

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 @devilsfavouritelamb; you prolly already know what I'm about to ask for😭😭 even though I've been crying over Satoru for days, Suguru, and especially how you write him, still has me in such a chokehold- for the 7mini celebration can I ask for Suguru (mean or sweet or both whatever you decide) with dumbification and dacryphilia? And of course, congratulations on 7k🥹🩷🌸 I'm so happy for you!!

𝟏𝟑𝐤 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Fey; I'm so so so so so so so so sorry it took this long, and it was supposed to be for 7k 🫣 this has turned to dust in my inbox with how long it’s been there. Thank you for the wait, thank you for all the support, and thank you for every kind word you have ever said to me, you deserve so much kindness sweetness

“Listen to that her cheeks are clappin’ and her sloppy cunt squechlin’. They are telling you what a good job you’re doing fuckin up her sloppy lil’ cunt.” Satoru spit on his hand, stroking his cock, and gliding his hand through fluffy white hair. His arm softly flexing.

You’re crying “Can’t! Don’t stop! Can’t cum ‘s too much!” Running away from Suguru’s thick cock, twisting your hips gliding his thick cock out. Giving your sore cunt a temporary break, they had been passing you back and forth all weekend.

You’re clawing at the sheets, thick tears trickle down your face. Holding a hand out to Satoru, he grabs your hand and kisses the back of your fingers. “Do you think I'm going to save you from Suguru’s cock? That’s cute.”

Suguru croons, “Look at that our dumb slut thinks she can run away from me.” He yanks you back to the edge of the bed. Causing Satoru to let your hand go. “You’re gonna be a good whore n’ fuckin’ take it.”

Suguru slaps your soft ass with the looped leather belt making your cheek jiggle. Satoru suggests, “Smack her harder for running away. Show her what happens to naughty slut that don't take their cocks like they’re supposed to.”

Suguru leans his head back, closing his eyes and rutting his hard thick cock into your sloppy wet cunt. Loudly groaning, “Fuuuuck! She feels sooo gooood.” Your cunt quivers when he smacks both cheeks harder, leaving them throbbing.

Satoru gets on his knees, grabbing your hair, smacking your cheek with his cock. Crooning, “What are you princess? C’mon tell your daddies what a dirty slut you are for us every night.” Satoru smears his pre-cum on your cheek.

You turn your head to suck on his beautiful cock. Swirling your tongue, moaning loudly, you soft cunt loudly sqleching. Getting getting off on feeling like such a whore with two cocks, one in your face and one ruining your sloppy cunt.

Squirting on Suguru’s thick cock, with a mouthful of cock. Your body is trembling between them, tears trickling down your face. It feels so good to be Suguru’s and Satoru’s whore.

Satoru glides his cock out of your mouth, yanking your head back, “Ya ready to take my cock next? I hope your cunt is sensitive and sore I love makin’ you cry. You look so hot sobbing and begging for more.”

Suguru answers for you, “Mnnn that it good girl make a mess on your daddy’s thick cock.” His cock throbs with a soft pulse you can feel in your sensitive cunt before he cums. It’s so warm and thick and deep in you.

Satoru smirks, “How sweet y'all made a creampie for me to eat.”

all works!

[omgeto]

☆ THRILL (h)ER! — SATOSUGU X READER

summary: when watching a scary movie with your two best friends, you cant help but hold onto them tight every time you get jumpscared. but as the night goes on and your fingers roam... wait, what movie were you watching again?

wc: 3.3k (its alll smut guys so give me a medal)

cw: double penetration, praising, slight degradation, gojo and geto bickering, fingering, dirty talk (?) and some fun loving you're their pretty little princess. afab!reader, MDNI

an: guys look I finally posted a fic for kinktober, yay me, I hope you like it since Id say the smut on this one hits different sooo give it a chance. also only big brains will understand the fic title.

KINKTOBER M.LIST.

your best friends, gojo and geto always have a way of making you feel right at home, especially when you find yourself in your favourite spot on the couch – sandwiched between them. geto's embrace is a gentle yet possessive one, his arms wrapped around you in a tender hold that radiates warmth, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your lower back.

to your side, gojo's long limbs seamlessly entwine with yours. your legs stretch over to meet him, creating an intimate tangle of limbs. his fingers trail leisurely up and down your thighs, their teasing caresses sending delightful shivers through your body. it's a familiar and electric sensation that's become an unspoken language among the three of you—one that hasn’t fully been enacted upon… yet.

"i don't know why you insist we watch this movie every year," geto complains, his gaze locked onto his b est friend, a playful frustration in his tone. "you're so predictable."

"oh, don't be a bore," gojo retorts, matching geto's glare before shifting his attention down to you. his voice is laced with mischief as he speaks to you. "you find it fun, don't you?" 

“what? do i like crappy slashers from the 80s with big titted damsels running from a shitly costumed killer?” you deadpan, your sarcasm evident. you could feel the vibration from geto as he lowly chuckles. gojo’s face forms a pout that prompts you to quickly add, “but i love them.”

gojo’s pout transforms into a triumphant grin as your admission earns you a playful nudge from him. “that’s my girl,” he exclaims, giving your thigh an excited rub as he turns on the movie.

geto, still chuckling softly, leans in closer. “well, i suppose if toru enjoys it, we can endure it one more time.” his words carry a hint of tenderness, his arm around you tightening ever so slightly, puling you closer into his embrace.                                                                            

you watch the movie in a comfortable silence, the only noise coming from the tv and gojo's oddly placed screams that you've come to expect every year. his over-the-top reactions to jump scares and gruesome scenes never fail to amuse you, and it's a source of endless entertainment for both you and geto.

geto, on the other hand, watches the movie with a more stoic expression, occasionally shaking his head at the implausible plot twists and unrealistic gore. His hand continues to rest on your thigh, his fingers now tracing soothing patterns as if to counterbalance the tension on the screen.

as the movie progresses, you notice how both gojo and geto steal glances at you when they think you're not looking, as their innocent touches progress into heavy petting. but there's a moment where you all pause, their movements stop, and you all look at each other as the loud sounds of exaggerated moans blare from the screen.

“i always forget this scene is in there,” gojo lies, with a snicker, an appreciative smile forming on his face as he watches the scene.gojo's arm remains draped around your shoulders, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your arm, while geto's touch has grown increasingly intimate, his hand resting on your hip, his thumb making slow, deliberate circles.

“oh don’t bullshit satoru,” geto accuses, taking his hand off of you for a second to send a jab into gojo’s side, “i know you’re getting off on watching this ditzy blonde getting laid.”

“not true,” gojo retorts childishly, “i think there’s better sights to get off on, isn’t that right?” he finishes casting his eyes, not so subtly, over to you.

“well i can’t lie and say the sights aren’t… appealing,” geto grins his hands coming back on you, toying with the hem of your shirt.

“you two are such guys,” you laugh, trying to remain nonchalant even though on the inside the pace of your heart was quickening, and every touch of their fingers sends jolts straight to your core. “you’re focusing on the wrong things here.”

“and what should we be focusing on here?” geto murmurs at you, you couldn’t see his face but you knew a smirk was plastered across it. his challenge hangs in the air as you pause, hesitating as you scan the room, your eyes meeting gojo’s trying to gauge if they are thinking what you are. geto can sense your hesitation as he feels your breathing still as you lean against him, so he pulls his finger under your chin turning your head to face him. “let us focus on you, come here.”

you lean in, his lips enclosing on yours in a deep kiss, you turn your body almost straddling him so you could get better access. his tongue enters your mouth, as his hands work down your body, and as the kiss intensifies, you’re aware of gojo’s gaze on you. you extend an inviting hand toward him, flashing him a smile as you pull away from geto and set your lips on your other friend.

gojo groans as your lips work with his, and his hands go straight into his pants, fisting his dick that has been hard all night just at the sight of you. geto cascades kisses down your neck as he starts to pull your shirt up off of you, you gasp at the feeling of both of their hands and lips all over you.

“h-how long have you two been planning this one then, huh?” you grin, a laugh escaping through your moans, as you let geto get rid of your shirt, assisting gojo with taking off your pants. 

“how long have we known you?” geto responds rhetorically, and gojo nod in agreement, as they both take off their jogging bottoms, leaving you all sitting on the couch in your underwear. there is no more hesitation, or uncertainty between you three—you all know exactly what you want.

“so who gets to have me first?” you joke, your eyes darting between the two of them, their lustful eyes are unmistakable as they stare at your body, their dicks straining against their boxers ready to be suffocated by your tight pussy.

“i get to!” gojo sputters out quickly, but he’s not as swift as geto who’s already pulled you back onto him, his fingers pushing into you without any warning. your mouth parts, as you let out a whine, as his long digits give your pussy fast, relentless strokes, he adds another finger, smirking as your body buckles against his. “hey no fair!” gojo pouts, side eyeing geto, but he can’t help biting his lip as he hears your cunt squelch everytime his best friend shoves his fingers into it.

“don’t worry, ‘toru,” geto reassures, his fingers curling up into you before he pulls it out swiftly, spreading your pussy apart and giving gojo a knowing look, “there’s room for the both of us.”

gojo eagerly drives his fingers into you from behind, his body pressing against yours as he charges your fingers into you. your moans increase as you feel a flurry of digits explore your pussy, gojo’s hand grips on his shoulder and geto hand holds your waist as they both tug your body back and forth in an attempt to get you closer to them.

“s-shit” you cry out, as you clench around their fingers, trying to keep them inside of you. you grind down against both of their fingers, your whimpers encouraging them to twist and push their fingers deeper into you.

“you see how much of a mess she gets for us?” geto asks gojo with a low chuckle, and gojo nods, smiling as the wetness of your pussy allows for his fingers to slide into you with ease, “press down on her clit. hard.”

“don’t tell me what to do,” gojo mutters, but he does it anyway. his thumb going straight to your clit, pushing down on it, smirking as you groan your back arching right into him. 

“see i told you,” geto chimes, laughing as gojo glares at him. geto’s focus shifts to you, as he pulls his fingers out of you, bringing them to your mouth, he holds your chin, placing his thumb on your bottom lip as he raises his eyebrows at you for permission. you nod lazily, opening your mouth, accepting two of his fingers —which are drenched in your juices. “‘toru, you gonna finish her off for me.”

gojo smirks, his fingers working in overdrive, as he adds another digit inside of you and you could feel yourself about to release. geto can tell you're close from the way you bite down on his fingers. “you close? you gonna cum on satoru’s fingers as you taste yourself?”

you couldn’t even respond, as your cum sprays all over gojo’s fingers and geto’s stomach. the boys both smirk at each other, as they hear your high pitched moans and see heaps of your cum spilling out of your pussy running down your thighs. gojo is in awe, his fingers still remain in you and he pushes them up lazily, trying to keep you plugged with your cum. you relax onto his fingers, letting him do as he pleases, as you try and catch your breath your body slumping onto geto’s.

“you did so well,” geto praises in his air, lifting up your head off your chest, pecking your lips softly. “you took both of our fingers letting us stretch your tight pussy, it felt good didn’t it?” 

“y-yeah it felt so good sugu,” you sigh, turning your head to face gojo, as you pull him closer into you, “you both felt so good.”

“you wanna let us stuff you further?” gojo questions eagerly, his hard dick resting on your ass, as rocks against you.

“satoru,” geto reprimands, shaking his head at his friends over excitement. but gojo shoots him a look shrugging as he presses his face into the crook of your neck, practically inhaling you.

“but suguru, she wants us both to stuff her,” he argues, as fingers already go back to your sobbing cunt. “you want that dont you?” he whispers, directly in your ear, slowly coaxing your pussy with soft strokes as he murmurs in your ear. “you want me and sugu to shove our dicks right up your pussy, together.”

“i don’t know if i can…” you hesitate, your voice faltering, but you pull your lip between your teeth, closing your eyes as you think about taking both of them.

“c’mon pretty girl,” geto persuades you, forcing you to open your eyes and look at the teasing smirk on your face, “don’t think we don’t know how slutty you can be. you know your greedy little cunt take both of us with ease, and you want it to, don't you?” you nod your head slowly in agreement, but geto shakes his, “no, we need to hear you say it. use your words. tell us what you want.”

“i want your dicks to stuff my pussy,” you admit, feeling your confidence grow as the smirk on geto’s face widens and you can hear gojo lowly growl in your ear. “i need it.”

“well we have to give our girl what she wants, right sugu?” gojo taunts, pulling you off of gojo and onto his lap, his dick slaps against your pussy. “suguru got to see your pretty face, before, so this time you’re all mine, okay?” gojo says to you, and you could hear geto kiss his teeth, but he obliges letting gojo have his way this time. 

“you ready for me?” gojo asks, waiting for your approval as he lifts you up slightly over his dick, he even looks over to geto he leans back against the couch, with his dick in his hand. you don’t even answer gojo, sliding down onto gojo as you moan together.

geto fists his dick at the sight, “go on satoru, fuck her,” he orders, his strokes increasing as he watches as gojo begin to thrust into you. your hands press down on gojo’s shoulder’s as you start to bounce on him, you lean forward whining straight in his ear, causing him fuck you harder.

gojo plays with your bra strap, pulling it and letting it release against your shoulder, “i don’t know why you’ve still got this on,” he complains, as brings his hands to the clasp of your bra, undoing it. your tits bounce as he pulls off your bra, and both boys smile at the sight. gojo’s fingers pull against both of your nipples, twisting and pulling at them causing you to cry at every tug. “so sensitive,” he mutters to himself, touching your tits inquisitively as he continues to toy with them, loving how with every touch your cries grow louder.

“it’s crazy how we stretched you so well earlier, but your pussy is still tight as fuck,” gojo comments, his words punctuated with every thrust. “i had all my fingers inside of you already, but your cock hungry cunt just can’t seem to get enough.”

“is he fucking you good?” geto calls, feeling himself about to cum, as he rubs against his dick hard. you look over to him and smile, nodding quickly as you wrap your hands around gojos neck, clinging to him as his dick drives into you. geto stands up, coming up behind you pressing a kiss on your neck, “you need me to help get you off?”

“she doesn’t need anything from you, i’m doing just fine,” gojo mumbles, but he lets you slightly raise up off of his dick and he smirks as he feels geto join him, geto’s dick presses against gojo in excitement as they wait in anticipation for you to enclose them with your pussy. 

“don’t be nervous,” geto coos from behind you, nipping at your ear. you look at gojo and he gives you an encouraging nod, and you slide back down onto them hissing in slight pain as you feel them both enter you. “it’s okay pretty, you’re doing so so well,” geto continues to reassure you, pressing soothing kisses down your neck, his lips sucking at your flesh. you all pause as you fully take them both in, and you feel the pain subside smiling at gojo giving him permission to move. 

geto follows suit, and you all move in tandem, fucking against each other. gojo places his hands on your ass, pushing your cheeks in pace with his movements whereas geto’s hands cup your tits, holding them firmly as he spreads his fingers over your nipples, rolling them.

“fu-fuck you two are too big, you can’t” you whine, clawing against gojo’s chest. they were both drilling into you relentlessly, you couldn’t catch your breath as every second you were being double stuffed with dick. tears spring to your eyes, as you cry out in pleasure, grinding down against them trying to get as much as them as possible. 

“if only you could see how slutty our girl looks,” gojo says to geto, as he watches your head fall back, another moan escaping your lips. “her eyes are all glossed over, she’s fucking crying, all slutted out on our dicks right now.”

“is that so?” geto mutters, he forces himself into you deeper, his back hitching up against yours, his clench on your tits tightening as he inches himself in your pussy, his hips slapping against you. “she’s such a good slut, i knew she’d be able to take us well, and look she’s loving it, already creaming all over us, isn’t that baby?”

you nod, your hand coming up to hold geto’s head as he nestles into your neck. you were losing your train of thought, you wanted to tell them how good they felt, how their dicks rubbing against each other in you was all you needed for the rest of you life, but when you open your mouth all that can leave your lips is incoherent words and moans. 

both of them smile, watching as you come undone on their dicks. gojo gives geto a nod, and their hands trade places. gojos fingers coming back to your tits, rubbing and pushing them apart before lowering his head to your chest, nuzzling your boobs. gojo and geto were so close that some things between them didn’t need to be spoken, and they were so close to you that they knew your body in and out. they knew when to push and pull, and where to suck just to get you cumming their lap.

“i’m s-so close, i’m gonna cu—” you try and speak out, but your mind is too far gone for you to finish. their dicks slip out of you as your bounces become sloppy, the pleasure too much for you but geto forces you back muttering reassurance in your neck. and the sudden contact causes you to cum, you release all over both them, but they don’t stop their movements, their dicks driving into you still, pushing back in all the cum you were letting out.

“satoru, we gonna give our girl one final stuffing?” geto prompts, and gojo nods, they both give you one final push and you could feel your pussy stretch as their cum sprays your walls. you wail out, the tears streaming your face as your body jerks forward, feeling their dicks go limp inside of you as you all pant in pleasure.

“that was fucking amazing,” gojo praises, a blissful smile on his face as he leans back his head resting on his arms. you return his smile, your lips meeting his in a quick kiss, that he groans at as you pull away. you come off his dick slowly, all of your eyes staring at the ropes of cum that immediately spill out of your pussy as he unplugs you. 

geto turns your head to face him, his dick still lodged deeply inside of you, he pulls you into a long kiss, his mouth smothering yours. he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, roughly biting down on it before releasing you, his hand cupping your chin, forcing you to stare up at him “you’re mine, my pretty slutty mess.”

“um she’s ours,” gojo chimes in, but geto shrugs, not caring to listen to your other friend. geto, finally pulls you off his dick, and your pussy clenches around nothing, already missing the feeling of their dicks.

“you too always know to take good care of me,” you exhale, exhausted your pussy sore about being stretched open by the two of them. geto pulls you back into his original hold, leaning back against his chest, and your legs stretch over gojo’s lap. but this time instead of innocent gentle touches, geto’s hands lazily tug at your nipples, and gojo caresses your naked thighs, his fingers flicking at your clit every now and again.

“that’s what friends are for,” geto muses, pressing his lips against your cheek before saying, “now satoru, are you gonna press play on this shitty movie or what?”

AN: ight so there you have it my FIRST FIC of kinktober, what do you guys think I need to hear all your thoughts since Ooooof this took me so long to write. so I hope it is worth it. also if you see my bias towards geto during this then LOOK AWAY, im sorry gojo stans but im a geto lover foreverrr. but yeahhh lmk ur thoughts stay tuned for my other kink tober fics which WILL be on time I promise smooches.

[gutsby]

Waiting Game

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller has mastered the art of self-control in all areas except one: not fucking his friend’s daughter. A cross-country road trip home from college takes a hard turn when he’s forced to share a motel room with you.

Warnings: 18+. Protected p-in-v. Praise. Overstimulation. Sweet, possessive, slightly obsessive and pussywhipped Joel. Daddy kink. Drug use. Angst. Accidental creampie. Joel fucking you while on the phone with your father.

Part 2 | Part 3

“You okay, hon? You sound…distracted,” your dad presses. A hint of concern rises from his end of the line.

At length, Joel grips both of your legs and brings them up over his shoulders, and he grins before kissing your ankle and shoving his cock even deeper.

“Yes!” you yelp as you crush the phone to your ear, hoping your father can’t hear any of the filthy sounds down below, “Just a little stretched—I mean stressed out, is all.”

Aside from the fact that he smoked like a chimney and bumped far more Billy Joel than any man ever should, Mr. Miller was an A-OK friend—your father’s best friend.

All you needed was a ride home for the holidays.

From the second you’d set foot in his old Ford Bronco, you sensed this trek wouldn’t be an enjoyable one—thirty-hour road trips rarely ever were—but you leaned back in the passenger seat, propped your feet on the dashboard, and bopped along to ‘You May Be Right’ for the fifty-fifth fucking time that morning and smiled.

Joel frowned.

“Dogs off the dash,” he muttered, swatting at your bare, polished toes before you kicked his touch away.

“Shotgun puts her feet up, driver shuts his cakehole.”

That wasn’t even how the saying went. Oh well.

Joel slowed the car to sixty in the right-hand lane and smacked your ankles even harder. You yelped.

“Hey! You can’t hit a woman!”

“I’m not hitting a woman, I’m hitting a little gremlin,” Joel tried not to grin as he delivered another tart slap to your foot, and you almost jerked into the passenger door.

He momentarily righted the car before it went veering into the lane beside it, seized one of your feet, and tried to forcibly shove it off the dashboard, to no avail. As soon as he moved one limb, the other would glide right back up to take its place; Joel’s hands were big, but they weren’t massive enough to grab hold of both of your legs at once and make you stay the fuck there, Christ’s sake.

You liked to see him flustered. Brought a whole new hue to his tough, stubbled cheeks that folks rarely got to see. You squirmed in your seat when he reached for your side.

“Wh—NO! No tickling!” you cried, trying your hardest to roll away.

But the man was nothing if not a lover of cheap shots and filthy antics. He’d never played a clean game in his life and wasn’t about to start now.

His gaze darted from the road to your writhing form, pinned against the door and begging him to stop, while he pressed his foot harder on the gas and smirked.

“Too much?” he teased, “Say pretty, pretty please.”

In other words: give up. You would do no such thing. Your elbow jutted out to the side and clipped his fingertips sharply, and right before he could reach for you again, you were heaving yourself up and leaning almost halfway out the open window, trying to shy away from his touch.

“You fuckin’ nuts?! Get down!” he yelled.

“But it just may be a luuuunatic you’re lookin’ for!” you sang along to your old friend Billy Joel and pretended not to see, or hear, Joel Miller twisting desperately across the center console to take hold of your belt loops.

“Get—I swear to God, kid—DOWN!”

Joel had just managed to finagle a loose, feeble grip on your denim waistband as he tried to keep the car from soaring across three lanes of traffic, was just about to yank you back inside and give you a red-faced, fatherly lecture of a lifetime, when a sound startled you both.

A siren, and a set of flashing blue lights behind you.

You scrambled back in your seat and swallowed a lump in your throat the size of a peach. You turned off Mr. Long Island.

“Great! Good fucking going,” Joel griped beside you as he flicked on his blinker and started to pull off the road.

Dogs no longer on the dash—and a very pissed off cop pulling up behind your car on the shoulder of the road—you got the feeling this would be a long couple of days.

You hadn’t even made it outside the city limits of Boston.

Somewhere between Richmond and Roanoke, the two of you turned off the highway to find a place to sleep.

Joel had sat and stewed and ignored you for the customary duration of about two hours before choosing to re-engage in conversation, but deep down, you knew he was still kind of irked by that reckless driving citation he’d received. You couldn’t help but feel responsible.

Though it had been pretty funny when the state trooper had approached the car and pointedly asked, “What the hell was your daughter doin’ danglin’ outta this thing?!” Joel was nowhere near as amused as you, but he managed to roll with it and told the cop you were just trying to wave to the cows in the fields passing by.

The police officer hadn’t bought it.

He probably would have arrested you both if you hadn’t been such a coquettish flirt and somehow managed to persuade the man to let your ‘dad’ off with just a ticket.

You had hoped that would temper Joel’s anger some, but if anything, the sight only seemed to make him more mad at you. You weren’t sure why.

Presently, you pulled up to Balmaceda’s Mountain Lodge and cast a bleak look at the front office before you.

This looked nothing like the snug, homespun mountain retreat you’d been picturing in your mind. Ahead of your car, there stood a single-story concrete slab of a motel, tilted to one side and consumed almost entirely by the dark of night and wide open wilderness. A big block letter neon sign displaying the owner’s name in red now barely flickered above a muddied, pinkish glow. You groaned.

But before you could complain to your travel companion, Joel was already stepping out of the car and heading toward the main office. Hastily, you followed after.

“No way, Miller. No fucking way are we staying in Murder Motel,” you hissed.

“Bal-ma-ceda’s,” Joel intoned with a maddeningly accurate lilt, ignoring your protests, “I think that’s a Chilean name.”

He swung the door wide for you to enter and pretended not to see you shoot him a glare as you strolled in.

“Needin’ a room?”

The lady behind the counter barely graced your entrance with a look.

“Yes ma’am. Whatever you got,” Joel replied, smiling.

“Smoking or non?”

“Smoking, please.”

Of course he would. You could already feel the fetid stench of American Spirits wafting up to your nostrils.

“King or two Queens?”

“Queens,” you and Joel answered in unison.

At first, the woman nodded, flicked through a rolodex on her desk and nosed through a couple yellowed pages in front of her. Then, frowning, she looked back up.

“Sorry. All the Queens are took up. Rest of the rooms are being fumigated but the one—” she tapped a manicured nail on the motel map, “—and it’s got a King. That okay?”

No. No, it was not. You opened your mouth to speak but were shortly cut off by the woman before you could.

“Of course, if you don’t want dad hoggin’ up all the sheets, there’s a pull-out sofa for him to sleep on.”

The sixty-something desk clerk offered a smile, and you likely would’ve returned the favor if you hadn’t been so deeply nauseated at the thought of everyone around you assuming that Joel was your father. You chanced a look at the man, who seemed equally uncomfortable as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. You sighed.

“Alright.”

Defeated, but marginally pleased that you wouldn’t have to share a bed with your ‘old man’ that night.

Joel paid and signed the papers without another word, or look, to you or the woman. By the looks of it, he just wanted to book the room and get the hell out as fast as possible, his brow pinched inward and lips zipped tight.

He’d turned to leave so quick that he was almost approaching the door when the lady called out,

“Mr. Miller! You forgot your keys.”

You hardly needed to steal a glance in Joel’s direction to see that he was flushed. Even blushing a bit.

You strode over to the counter and intercepted the keys she was dangling for someone to take, then politely, finally, were able to manage a smile and a thank-you.

You turned back to Joel.

“Here you go, Daddy.”

In a blink, the small silver set was pelted in his hands, and the man nearly dropped them—and lost his balance. By some miracle, Joel managed to catch them between his big sweaty palms and step aside just in time for you to saunter past him, straight through the door.

“I’m starved,” you announced, then, averting your face to hide your smug expression and lower your voice a bit, “Feed me, Daddy.”

In that moment, Joel thanked every last one of his lucky stars that his pants were made of denim, and that the denim itself was thick. And that the woman at the front desk was swift to turn her attention back to her tabloid magazine, away from you two, and didn’t look up again.

If they weren’t, and if she hadn’t, it would’ve been plain as day to see that Joel Miller was sporting a hard-on.

A huge, swollen hard-on that made it almost impossible for him to walk and haul luggage and try to keep apace with your steps as you sailed along the gravel drive. So big the man had to will himself not to limp, not to make it known how stiff he was, until he eventually failed at both.

Once you’d grabbed your bags back at the car and made it up to your place, you entered Room 102 with a lightness you hadn’t felt all day. Joel slogged behind with all of the baggage and a boner beneath his jeans that probably could’ve cut sheet metal, if needed.

He was fucked. No doubt he’d have to enlist in the Witness Protection Program after your real father found out that his best friend had gotten visibly bricked up for you, his one and only daughter. How awkward holiday dinners were bound to be from that point on; how humiliating it seemed to him to pop a chub at a thing as dumb as saying ‘daddy’; how batshit insane it was that he hadn’t gotten laid in almost a year, and you were still, somehow, the only one he wanted to break the dry spell.

Joel was better than this. A fucking pro at self-control and all things dirty old guys didn’t do. He could chill out.

He just needed to rub one out in the bathroom, fast.

So, while you flopped down on the bed, Joel dropped every bag and made a beeline for the toilet. Slammed the door so hard he probably could’ve knocked the thing off its hinges, but he didn’t care. He was wrestling his belt, button, and zip off in a second. Then haphazardly turning on the sink to mask the sounds of all that was to come. No pun intended.

He yanked his thick, throbbing, rock-hard member out of its confines and had to hiss through his teeth to keep from moaning. The sensitivity he felt was unbearable, the front of his boxers already painted with pre-cum.

Gingerly, Joel wrapped one hand around his cock and raised the other to anchor himself against the sink. He slid his palm, which he’d just barely lubricated with some spit of his, up and down the shaft and groaned. A welt of pleasure formed in his chest, and he rubbed even faster. And, in spite of his legs feeling a bit like jelly, he stood there and fucked his fist and wished with every bit of himself that it was your warm, lush folds opening around him instead. Stifled a groan and would’ve paid any sum of money to hear your moans spilling out while he thrusted. The act here was more mindless and reflexive than anything else—jerking himself and soaking in the sharp, fiery sensations that shot up through his body.

To him, at least, it was all purely physical. Mechanical.

Nowhere near as euphoric and otherworldly as it would have been with your hand actually curled around him.

Or your lips. Or your tongue. Or your tight, wet cunt.

Fuck, he needed a shower.

Blindly, Joel moved inside the tub to his left and yanked the curtain shut over a space almost two times too small for his frame. He turned on the water and made it hot. Then he fisted his cock again, pressed his head to the shower wall, and pumped himself as fast as his forearm would allow him—trying all the while not to think of you.

You, with all your wily, shrewd ways were still the daughter of the man who guzzled down IPAs with him at the local dive bar every Thursday night over jalapeño poppers and buffalo dip. The man who clapped him over the shoulder and shook his frame with the kind of good-natured sneer that only a best friend could make, ‘A man as suave as you oughta get some tail every now and then. Go find you a gal and fuck her brains out, Joel!’

But the only ‘gal’ Joel wanted to rail was the one who called that man ‘dad’—and just called him ‘daddy’ for the first time that night—and he hated himself for it.

Sparks of pleasure continued to ignite across his lower half as he jerked himself in the shallowest, short pumps. He flicked his hand back and forth, circled the tip with his palm, and felt a groan start to claw at his throat. He tried to picture any face but yours but failed miserably.

All he could think, see, or breathe was you—imagining your lips enveloping the head of his cock, jerking him softly, taking him down to the back of your throat and bobbing that pretty little face up and down his length.

That sweaty, desperate fist of his just wasn’t cutting it.

For the first time, Joel couldn’t make himself cum.

Now even more pent-up and pussywhipped than he’d been when he first started, he slammed his palm against the wall and flung the shower handle in the opposite direction—turning the water as cold as it could get.

Five minutes passed, and the icy spray had scarcely left a dent in his raging erection. Joel stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his hips, and stood in front of the mirror to see that he was still very hard.

Fuck this.

He bunched his strewn aside clothing together and held it over his crotch, discreet as he could, and waddled out.

And, either the temperature inside had just jumped fifty degrees or the world outside had just caught fire, but Joel’s face was flooded with heat the second he exited.

You were sprawled across the bed wearing nothing but a thin white tank, shorts, and fuzzy socks—and a scowl.

“Sofa’s broke,” you said.

Joel blinked.

“Broke?”

You nodded toward the busted sleeper couch at the far end of the room, torn to pieces and kicked a half-dozen times since you’d tried unfolding it in Joel’s absence.

The jaws of the old steel frame had simply refused to give way, and now the sofa was so out of sorts and misshapen that you had no hope of putting it back the way that it was. You sank further in the bed and pointed to the floor.

“You can sleep there.”

Joel eyed a flat sheet and a pillow laid across the carpet, visibly coated in dust and grime. He turned back to you.

“You’re smokin’ crack if you think I’m doin’ that.”

“Be grateful I’m not making you sleep in the car, daddy.”

Again with that fucking name. Joel tightened his grip on the clothes he was holding over his dick and tried to fight a thousand dirty thoughts threatening to seep back into his head.

Unfortunately, the dirty thoughts had hands—and were beating his ass to a bloody pulp when he first caught sight of your nipples poking up through your shirt. Just when the man might have started to drool or else begun humping that pile of clothes, you snapped your fingers.

“Miller Lite. Eyes up here.”

Fuck.

“Got a…stain on your shirt,” he grumbled in his defense.

“Shut up. Now, we can flip for the bed if you want.”

By turns, Joel’s focus was slowly coming back, and the man was trying like hell to find a place on your face that didn’t arouse him to no end—to help ease the intrusive thoughts and all. So far his search had yielded nothing.

“Like, uh…coin?” he asked. Endearingly stupid.

“Heads, I win,” you said, nodding, “Tails…”

Joel swallowed.

“Tails, what?”

“Tails, you tell me what was going on in your head when you were jacking off to the thought of me just now.”

Your words came out in a hurry, almost too quick for Joel to comprehend. He still heard them, though, and nearly choked on his spit when he tried to swallow again.

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” you bit back, “I heard you moan my name.”

Joel didn’t remember that. Joel didn’t remember much of anything that had taken place in that bathroom apart from being implacably horny and unable to bust a nut. You stepped off the bed to stand in front of him.

“What? Cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” you sneered, “Think I’m just gonna run off and tell my da—”

“Don’t,” Joel’s response was immediate, insistent. Then, setting his jaw in a way you knew too well, contemplating about fifty different thoughts in the span of two seconds, he pressed the clothes pile to his crotch even tighter and sighed, “Don’t…do that, please. I’ll take the floor.”

You raised both brows, mildly amused.

“I said we could flip for it. C’mon,” you said.

“Ain’t got any coins.” Joel was already retreating to his makeshift sleeping pad on the floor, eyeing the shag carpet for any traces of blood, piss, or rodent droppings. Before he made it too far, you reached for his arm.

Joel tensed under your touch.

“We can try something else.” Your voice was cloying, almost too sweet to be trusted.

It had just dawned on you then how bare the man standing before you was. Clad in only his towel, every taut, toned inch of Joel’s body was there on display—coated with sweat and a fine sheen from the shower, his skin practically shone in the glow of the bedside lamp. You watched him shift in place and saw the towel around his hips stir along with it. He never let those old clothes in his hands move an inch away from his groin, though.

“What game?” he asked.

“Something my roommates showed me,” you began, “‘Too Hot.’”

“Too Hot?”

“You heard me.”

“What, like— like Spin the Bottle, or some bullshit?”

Joel could just picture it: a gaggle of your college pals huddled around an old, empty bottle of Bud Light as you watched it turn circles again, and again, and again on the dorm’s linoleum floor. You tugging at the sleeve of some oversized man-child from a frat Joel couldn’t name, leaning in and beaming like the insatiable flirt he knew you to be, asking that boy if he wanted to sneak off somewhere and let his tongue take a tour of your mouth.

The thought made Joel’s stomach turn.

Presently, you wrinkled your nose up at him.

“Spin the Bottle? That’s rookie shit,” you made another face reminding Joel, once more, how little he knew of the life you lived 1,900 miles away from Austin, at college.

He still couldn’t shake the thought of those boys.

“No, Joel,” you shook your head, drawing your syllables out for effect, “‘Too Hot’ is just…edging your opponent.”

Joel’s throat tightened, and he tried not to let his eyes widen too much, but he was almost certain they had. Before he even knew the words he was saying, the thought of your father taking his fist—or a shotgun—to his face made him blurt out in response, stammering,

“We can’t— I can’t— can’t lay one finger on you, darlin’, you know that. Your dad would murder me.”

To his surprise, the smile on your face only widened.

“Bingo,” You stuck one pretty finger in his face like he’d made the world’s finest discovery, “You can’t touch me.”

“Huh?”

“That’s the whole fuckin’ game, Miller. We can kiss, but we can’t touch each other with our hands. First one to crack and grope the other player loses the game.”

Your expression now was something just shy of sadistic. Watching him with keen, narrowed eyes and a wicked little grin, it seemed you were half-expecting him to fold on the spot. No way was this a game your college friends taught you; you just wanted to play him. Make him lose.

And Joel was a man who couldn’t stand to lose, no matter the stakes.

You watched that failure-averse glint eclipse every shade of lust in his eyes, at least momentarily. Suddenly, Joel didn’t look so fearful of your father’s wrath or what lurid implications this night might bring—he just had to win.

“You suck, you know that?” he said, at last, dropping his makeshift shield from the front of his towel and knocking you flat on the bed with a single push.

“You wish I would,” you grumbled, heart still jumping up in your ribcage all the same. You scooted back.

“I bet you will.”

The man was a menace when he had the will to be.

At length, Joel crawled over your body and made room for himself snug between your legs. The bulge that he’d been trying to hide all this time was now heavy on your center, pressed tight to your stupid-thin shorts and the panties you’d conveniently forgotten to wear. He grinned.

“Are tongues allowed?” he hummed.

“Everything but hands,” you shrugged.

Try as you might to play it cool with him, though, every fibre of your being was alight with desire for the man on top of you. You flitted a look between his soft brown eyes and slightly parted lips and could’ve melted in that bed had Joel not lowered his head and dove right in for it.

His mouth was far gentler than expected. Reverent, even. He slotted his lips between your own and made a fine, delicate showing of just how tender and adept he could be while imparting his slow, sweet kisses. Skirted his tongue across your bottom lip before driving it inside, coaxed your mouth open to him in a matter of seconds. He was graceful. And patient. And lithe with that tongue.

Joel Miller was showing off for you—the bastard.

“Sweet little thing,” he groaned against your mouth, “Ain’t felt a tongue this shy on mine in a long time.”

Of course he’d try taunting you, too. Same old Joel.

“What’s it been? Two years since a woman let you touch her?”

“Twenty since I felt one this good.”

You would’ve liked to reach around the back of his head and seize a clump of that thick, dark, grey-speckled hair. But you couldn’t. Your hands remained plastered to the duvet beneath you, and then, just slightly, your fingers started to curl inward. Joel’s palms laid flat on either side of your head.

It felt weird; mashing lips, teeth, and tongue with a man who’d been alive about twenty years longer than you and went further back with your father than you could even remember. What felt even stranger was the fact that you couldn’t touch him, or take him between your two hands.

Joel’s tongue continued roaming every contour and crevice of your mouth like he had an ache for this taste that he just couldn’t quench. Your tongue tried keeping up, too, but frankly, you were too preoccupied by a pulse between your legs—your parts and Joel’s practically throbbing in time with one another—to work just as hard.

Even through the towel, he felt huge.

You whined when Joel started to grind up against you, and shortly, those fingers of yours that had just been grazing the sheets before were gripping them. Tight.

“Earlier…” Joel murmured between kisses, hips working a vicious pace against you, “You said you were hungry.”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry—starved,” he corrected himself, and you almost could’ve smacked him for being so smug about it.

“What’s your point, Miller?” You were fisting the sheets beneath your palms and gyrating your whole body to meet the motions of the man currently dry-humping you.

All of a sudden, Joel’s movements stopped.

He peered down at you with a curious look.

“I could go for something to eat, too,” he declared.

You blinked. Stared. And just when you’d opened your mouth to say, well, maybe you should’ve grabbed us a bite to eat when we passed that Burger King on the way in, dipshit, Joel’s torso started to move down your own. Slow and painstaking as ever as he made sure not to graze one inch of your skin with his hands while he did.

You leapt back against the headboard, almost cracking your skull on the wood.

“Joel— Joel,” you hissed as the heels of your feet dug into the mattress below, and Joel just sank even further.

Then he was slowly, scrupulously pinching the fabric of your shorts between each index finger and thumb, gaze trained close on your lower half to make sure he never touched you, and he started pulling it down.

“This isn’t—” you started again, only to be offered a soft shush and an even quieter rustle of the cotton material sliding down both your legs.

You dropped your head on a pillow and probably could’ve burned a hole in the ceiling with the wide-eyed look you fixed on one spot, in utter disbelief of what he was doing.

“No panties, huh?” Joel observed. Gentle puffs of his breath were now fanning across the whole bare expanse of your lower half, and your pyjama bottoms were shortly discarded. His face was just hovering there, and you could tell that he knew you knew by the way he lowered his voice and brought his head to have only the tips of his chin stubble grazing your abdomen, “You needed this.”

Some lone remnant of ire flashed in your eyes.

“I don’t need shit from you, Miller. You need me. And you’re gonna lose this.”

Even though your gaze was still trained to the ceiling, you could feel him grin against your delicate skin.

“Hey,” he mumbled, “You said tongues are fair game.”

Fuck me, you wanted to keen the second his lips made contact with your…lower ones, and Joel swiftly got to kissing you there just as he’d done to you above. Hot, soft, and tender as the first rays of morning sun heralding a new day, he sponged his lips across the seam of your heat and made as if to massage the place, gently.

You could hear as well as you could feel that effusion of desire leaking out of your cunt and pooling around the man’s mouth. How eager he was to lap it up with his tongue, to grace your ears with those delectable squelching sounds, he caressed every inch between your folds and only sank deeper when you whined above him.

“Joel.”

Right now you couldn’t look down. Not with the way your legs were already trembling around his head, your chest heaving with the fastest, most frenzied breaths. You’d sooner die before you watched him unravel you like this.

“Darlin’, you’ve got a man soaked.” Some sound almost resembling a chuckle reverberated between your thighs and sent a brand new shockwave of pleasure in its wake, “You like it when daddy uses his mouth on this needy, wet cunt, don’t you?”

Yes, yes, you did. But your answer was nonverbal: a sharp curl of your toes and a grip between your fingers so tight across the sheets that he saw you veritably could’ve torn the linens in two.

Neither of you had laid a hand on the other.

Joel was perfectly content to make do with his mouth for now.

“Got those sheets all balled up, you’re fixin’ to rip ‘em.”

“My tongue make ya feel that good, honey?”

“Poor thing can’t even breathe it feels so nice, right?”

So he’d seen you hiccup, try to steady your breaths, and fail before succumbing to a string of lewd moans. Joel saw you, and knew how you felt, as if he’d had his own secret gauge for how good his mouth was doing you in.

Surely, he could’ve sensed the words before they ever came out of your mouth.

“Touch me, Joel, please.”

His tongue was just then making a lazy circuit around your clit, mouth saturated in your juices, when he smiled.

“Nah.”

Curt and cruel as ever. Then:

“No matter how fuckin’ perfect this pussy is, I ain’t losin’.”

He completed the arc with his tongue and took your bud between his lips, sucking in. You almost screamed.

“Motherfucker.”

“Miller, baby, Miller. Close, though.”

And just when you thought he’d had his fill of cheeky games, Joel sucked your clit even harder and flicked the tip of his tongue against your bundle of nerves until you were writhing, crying on the bed above him,

“JoelbabypleasebabyfuckmefuckohfuckitfeelsoGOOD.”

It was a bit tough to decipher through your strangled, desperate moans, but Joel got the picture. Heeding your requests, he kept at that pace above your clit and slid his tongue back and forth, over and over, lapping up your honeyed glaze like it was the finest thing he’d tasted. Scruff harsh against your thighs, lips soft in a perfect suction, Joel Miller had your head swimming in desire and your better judgment dissipating before your eyes.

At the first sign of bliss, your muscles clenched, and the last linchpin of your resolve crumbled right along with it.

You carded your hands through Joel’s hair and grabbed hold of those locks with a full-throated moan, using his head for shameless leverage to buck and rut your hips into his face as you rode out the peaks of your high.

And, ever the gentleman, Joel fought like hell to keep his lips and tongue connected to your core while you writhed above him—this time at liberty to work his arms under your thighs and hold them since you’d given up the game. He would’ve smiled if he weren’t so narrowly preoccupied, seeing you thrash about and moan out loud and fuck his face like it was the last thing tethering you to earth. He liked seeing you come undone beneath him.

A bit too much, if he were being completely honest.

While you made the languid descent from ecstasy and your breaths were still slowing in your chest on the bed, Joel was back on his feet. Padding toward the bathroom door, slamming it shut behind him as he had before. When he returned in a minute or two, he was clothed. He fished for his keys in the pockets of his snug, stonewash Wranglers and made a face. He didn’t look at you.

“I’ll be back,” he said, starting toward the door.

“Back?” You sat up, perplexed, “The hell ya goin’?”

“Out.”

This motherfucker.

“Did I miss something? Were we not just seconds away from getting down to some how’s-your-father?”

Joel visibly grimaced at your choice of sex slang. Under the circumstances, you would concede it wasn’t ideal.

“O-kay, sorry,” you returned, crossing your legs out in front of you, “I mean…don’t you want me to get you off?”

Again, Joel’s expression twisted into something just shy of overwrought, weary, and repulsed—a look that you couldn’t begin to understand, for the life of you—and you watched him flit his eyes from the bed to the door, again and again, seeming to be pining for the sweet release of leaving your shared motel room as soon as possible.

You’d been with your fair share of emotionally avoidant fucksticks, but most of them didn’t ghost until after they’d gotten their nut and felt no reason to stick around. Joel’s exit seemed premature. Strange.

“So you don’t want to fuck?” you asked, deadpan. You’d never been one for beating around the bush.

“Can’t,” Joel shook his head, bringing one hand to rest on his hip while the other fiddled uncomfortably with his car keys, “Your dad…that’s just— that’s crossing a line.”

“And being nose-deep in my cunt isn’t?”

You stared him down, incredulous.

So now he decides to claim the moral high ground, after coaxing you to soak every inch of his beard and cum all over his tongue? How very fucking charitable of him.

“That’s different,” Joel retorted, rubbing his knuckles in a nervous tic, “That was a game. I won. We’re done.”

You set your jaw just tight enough to keep your tongue in check and refrained from firing off a brash, unsavory remark. It wouldn’t do either of you a lick of good.

You let him leave. Joel had told you that you could keep the bed, he didn’t mind, and then he slipped out the door without another word. Leaving you cold and alone on the soiled, tawdry floral bedspread of Room 102, wondering what the hell had gone so wrong in the span of the last five minutes. From the center of the bed, you could see Joel’s Bronco pull off into the silent, frigid night.

You were still hungry as shit.

Rolling onto your side and rummaging through the bags at the end of the bed, you found nothing even remotely edible—save for, literally, one of Joel’s brownie edibles—and you groaned out loud. You threw your shorts back on, stepped into your old Luccheses, and did a quick circuit around the room to find your jacket before you left. As it turned out, you’d forgotten it back in Joel’s car.

You dropped to your knees and went back to tearing through luggage, searching for some suitable outerwear.

By the end of that second suitcase foray, though, you found you had nothing of your own that was hefty enough to brave the below-freezing temperatures outside, so you had to settle on a dark brown, fleece-lined coat from Joel’s bag. It was durable enough but about four sizes too big—and reeked of cigarette smoke.

You trudged outside, not really knowing where you were going or what you were hoping to find. Your stomach growled, and a few cool gusts of wind came to lap at the bare skin of your thighs where Joel’s spit was still drying.

You stepped a few feet out and turned toward the road.

Bal-ma-ceda’s, you read the seedy neon sign and heard Joel’s enunciation of the name ring between your ears.

What you wouldn’t give for the greasiest, girthiest, barely-FDA-approved 7-Eleven corndog to kill your thoughts about that sleazy little fucker right now.

You started toward the convenience store across the street but quickly found that it was closed—along with every other establishment on that stretch of road. You glanced toward the front office and caught a glimpse of your old friend dozing behind the counter. The speakers outside were playing a tinny rendition of ‘Piano Man.’

Just as you tried not to barf in your mouth at the sound and silently primed yourself for a long, long trek through the boonies to the nearest gas station, you stopped.

In a compact little breezeway that cleaved the motel in two, you saw light pool around an old vending machine.

You almost fell over yourself trying to get to it.

Never mind the fact that there were about half a dozen ragtag teens decked out in camouflage and comically tattered denim cutoffs crowding the area. All absently smoking and blowing o’s, or else sipping on cans of beer in the cramped, concrete passage, they looked bored. A couple lazy smiles broke out upon seeing your approach.

You nodded back and sidled up to the snack dispenser.

Then you zeroed in on the first sugar-packed products you could find: a pack of sour gummy worms and a bottle of Sprite—no, Mountain Dew—and a chocolate bar. Maybe a bag of Cheetos or Fritos thrown in for good measure. All of the snacks were probably stale as shit and hadn’t seen a replacement since dinosaurs roamed the earth, but you didn’t care. You were prying singles out of your wallet and salivating before you could think.

“Gotta kick it a couple times ‘fore it’ll spit anything out,” one of the boys lounging around you piped up.

You’d just inserted a couple bills and were waiting for the machine to dispense your gummy worms, when the thing appeared to stall. Stuck in its tracks, like he’d said.

You raised a brow and tapped the toe of your boot to the appliance, turning toward the one who’d addressed you,

“Like this?”

“Nope. Nuh-uh.” The redhead got up and strode over, where his much bigger, square-toed boot delivered a kick to the vending machine that almost toppled it.

A bag of Trolli Sour Brite Crawlers dropped out.

The kid—who actually happened to be nineteen years old and a student at some college a few states away, along with his whole group of friends—was kind enough to repeat the same ritual for all of your treats. You’d just gathered your stuff together and were about to thank him for his services, when the guy presently stuck a hand in your direction and introduced himself as Connor.

Then Blake. Then Micah. Then Wyatt. Then Trent. All traveling with their team for a tournament that weekend.

Then a beer was held out to you. You declined. A little homemade deer jerky? No, thanks. How ‘bout some Oreos? I’m good on snacks, really. Well, shit, you seem a little high-strung, why don’t you take a hit right here? And Connor pulled his dab pen out from his pocket.

Well.

You hadn’t smoked in a minute. You might’ve decided to take a bite out of Joel’s brownie back in the room, but you hadn’t known how strong it was—or where the fuck he’d gotten it. The pen this stranger was offering you was one that looked similar enough to the kinds you’d seen passed among your friends a hundred times before that you felt comfortable taking one hit, maybe. Two max.

You felt stupid as soon as you’d sucked in every breath, but you ended up taking four hits in total.

You hacked and sputtered and blinked up at Connor, who was grinning big.

“Alright, hardass,” he chuckled, taking back the device.

“Daddy know you smoke?” Wyatt cut in with a sneer.

Daddy?

There was no fucking way Joel looked that old for everyone to think he was your father. You inwardly cringed.

“Y’all been spying on us?”

“Ain’t shit else to do around here.” That was Blake.

You tried to swallow but found your throat much drier than it had been before. And not just from the weed.

“He doesn’t care,” you said, managing a shrug.

It wasn’t entirely false. Joel did give no fucks about you.

“Dude looks like a— a fuckin’ DEA agent or something,” Micah said, amused.

“Like that guy from Narcos,” Trent snickered.

You’d never seen the show and didn’t particularly care to know what law enforcement archetype Joel appeared to embody—in fact, you didn’t want to discuss him at all.

Just as the first fuzzy beads of warmth began to roll into your head, you were already planning your exit strategy. Thank Connor for his selfless assistance and cannabis, bid the group a good night and the best of luck in their upcoming lax tournament, and be done with this shit, ASAP. You were still trying to steady your tongue in the bone-dry cavern that had become your mouth when one of them kicked at a near-empty case of beer at their feet.

“We’re about out.” Micah announced.

Seconds later, Connor was turning to you.

“Wanna…restock in our room?” he asked, the corners of his lips twisting into a smile as he looked down at you.

You crinkled your nose and shook your head. Connor leaned his whole weight against the vending machine between you, seeming unconvinced by your answer.

“I don’t believe you,” he said, “I think you wanna come.”

“Do I?”

You only entertained the backtalk because your brain was currently swimming in a far-off, pleasant void of contentment and indifference. Every sharp edge dulled in your mind, to an extent, and your body at ease. You didn’t have to be home to anyone, anytime, and Joel was probably halfway plastered at a dive bar down the road. You didn’t move back when Connor stepped forward.

He wasn’t even that close. You could leave whenever you pleased.

“For sure. I think you’d enjoy our shitty beer and even shittier company. We can smoke some more, too.”

The man certainly had a way with words. He muscled in a bit closer.

“You think so?” you hummed.

“I do. I really do.”

“And you’re willing to risk the wrath of my dad if he finds out where I am?” You made it sound like a challenge.

“Wyatt can fight.”

Connor motioned toward his friend, who was mindlessly chomping on deer jerky in his lawn chair off to the side, glossy-eyed and hammered. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay, but make sure he’s ready. I can only stay for five.”

Connor seemed wounded as he put a hand over his heart in mock dismay.

“Only five minutes?” he griped, “Why not ten? Or twenty?”

“Six.”

“Fifteen at least.”

You folded your arms over your chest and felt an opaque haze beginning to settle over your brain. It wasn’t quite a high, just a lightness of being that drove tender little streaks up your spine. Like Joel, tickling at your sides while you writhed around in the front seat of his car.

This time you took the beer Connor offered and cracked it open. He seemed pleased—and taken by surprise—to see you down the drink in spite of the overflowing foam.

“Ten,” you returned once you’d swallowed it all.

“Twenty.”

“Honey?”

The last voice didn’t belong to anyone in the group. You turned on your heels and almost coughed up your beer.

It was Joel, of course.

Standing at the threshold of the breezeway like a surly, disconcerted parent, of all things, watching you like he’d just caught you red-handed in the most horrific of acts.

Clutched in one hand was a Burger King takeout bag.

“Daddy. Hi,” you breathed.

Apparently your attempt at casual came across more slurred than anything else, because Joel stepped closer.

‘Let’s go’ was all he said. No accusations, no threats, no outward displays of emotion found anywhere on his face. Just a gruff ‘Let’s go,’ and a free hand reaching for yours.

Instinctively, you recoiled.

“We’re just talking,” you said, gesturing behind you. If you could have seen the uniform looks of discomfort and agita, damn near treading on fear, among them all, you probably wouldn’t have bothered.

“Good. Now you’re leaving,” Joel supplied in a moment.

He was blissfully indifferent. Asserting his will in a space where, less than one hour ago, he couldn’t bear to share a room with you, much less impart a shred of dignity or care to your condition. He had nerve, that was for sure.

“I’m not leaving,” you said, a touch more venom in your voice than you intended.

Joel raised both eyebrows.

“No?”

His expression, directed to you, was infuriating.

“Fuck no,” you answered.

A few of the guys behind you sucked in a breath as if to say, ‘Okaaaaay, time to go!’ but then Joel pressed,

“For someone who wants to be treated like an adult—”

“Adult?” you scoffed, “You treat me plenty like an adult, Joel. Just whenever the designation suits your needs, huh?”

No one moved.

Well, Joel flinched a bit. Then he squeezed your wrist.

Truly, you never failed to underestimate the man’s brute strength when it came to carrying you off at will—but there you were, being yanked behind the big, bad Joel Miller as he hauled you off to who-knows-where. You scowled but didn’t bother to steal a glance behind you at the beer, boys, or vending machine treats you were being forced to abandon. All you could do was stare a hole through Joel’s skull and tug back—largely ineffectually.

“You’re an ass,” you spat, digging your heels into the gravel terrain as he pulled you along.

“You’re a brat,” he fired back.

In a minute, the exterior of Room 102 was coming into view; Joel was practically toting your ass like a knapsack.

“You just abandoned me back here, Miller. You— you don’t get to pretend like you give a fuck now.”

“I was getting you Burger King, for Christ’s sake.”

Joel was fiddling with the lock now. Simultaneously juggling your hand, the paper bag, and a set of keys that didn’t seem keen on cooperating, he huffed, disgruntled.

“Even got you those—” Joel grunted, thrusting his shoulder into the door, “—fuckin’ curly fries you wanted.”

Your jaw slackened. That was supposed to make it okay?

“Joel, FUCK your curly fries!” you cried, “Are you seriously still trying to play good guy right now?”

“If that’s what you—”

“No. You don’t get to tonguefuck your friend’s daughter and buy her a goddamn Double Whopper and act like it’s all good. Sure as hell don’t get to dictate who I talk to.”

Like he had before, Joel cringed to hear your crude language—particularly as it related to what he had done to you but didn’t seem capable of owning up to just yet. You couldn’t bear another second of that look.

“Fuck this. I’m sleeping in the car,” you grumbled.

You thrashed your arm out of Joel’s hold and started off in the other direction. Picked up your pace when you heard the bag of fast food drop to the ground and Joel trotting after you. Calling your name.

Even at your most brisk, you knew you couldn’t outstrip those big, beefy legs of his. He gained on you in seconds.

So you took off running.

Joel gripped his side, thinking, ‘Aw, hell’ before breaking out in a sprint just as fast.

You were pissed at how far he’d parked this time around. You caught sight of the old Bronco perched a ways away from your room and almost opted to change course on the spot, to the front office—maybe dive behind the counter and beg that poor old woman to give you another place to stay—but you kept at it, anyway. For once, you were glad to have had Joel beat by so many years, because the man’s endurance was, evidently, shit.

“Hey, s— stop!” Joel shouted after you.

Fat chance, Miller.

You closed in on the car. Joel rarely ever locked it.

Your hand secured a grip on the door and jerked it back. It swung right open.

Just as Joel was pulling up the rear, you had the driver’s side slammed shut and your palm laid flat on the door lock knob—shoving the little black lever down each time Joel tried to unlock the car.

It was a fruitless endeavor, you knew; you couldn’t keep the man out all night so long as he had the car keys in his hands. You could piss him off some more, though.

“You won the fucking game, just take the bed!” you said, straining against the door with your weight pressed hard on that knob. Joel was furiously working to get it open.

“I mean it, Joel, I-I don’t wanna sleep in there wi— shit.”

You leapt back in your seat as Joel flung the door wide open. You scrambled across the center console, made a desperate grasp at the passenger door to climb out the other side, but your ankle was taken between two hands. Just as you tried to slink out on the opposite end of the vehicle, Joel pulled you right back in. Flipped the center console up so you were sprawled flat across the bucket seat at the front of his car and pinned underneath him.

Then he pulled you over his lap.

Not into it—nestled on top of his crotch, with your ass pointing up in the air. Joel’s big ass Carhartt jacket was bunching up around your torso, collar crowding you up to the chin. Your twisted just far enough to meet his gaze.

“What do you want from me?” Joel demanded, “What?”

You stared up at him, poring over your options in the span of what seemed like two milliseconds. Wondering, silently, why he wasn’t touching you anywhere.

“I want you to fuck me, Joel,” you replied at length.

Seated between driver’s side and shotgun, Joel looked perfectly unperturbed, raking a hand through his silver-flecked hair and letting his gaze trail up to the ceiling, as if considering something of grave importance.

“And what after that?” he asked, still staring at the roof.

Before you could reply, though, he was forging ahead,

“What happens when I can’t even look your dad in the eye knowin’ I’ve been balls deep in his little girl, and every fuckin’ time I’m over at your house or you’re over at mine, I’ll be thinkin’— no, dreamin’ of what it was like to have you wrapped around my cock, screamin’ my name and takin’ it so deep inside you like I know ya want it?”

You paused a beat. Had to bat your eyes a couple times to rid your head of those filthy thoughts he’d planted.

“We could, uh— fuck…then…too,” you ventured quietly.

Joel grinned at the spot he was watching, humorless.

“That easy, huh?” he mumbled.

Again, before you could speak, Joel continued,

“I can’t even cum with you on my mind,” he said, and for a split second you thought that might mean he wasn’t attracted to you in that way, when he swallowed hard and closed his eyes, “I’ve tried beating off twice today—in the bathroom and as soon as I left earlier—and I can’t…even get close with you here. You fuck with my head.”

You fuck with my head.

Without meaning to, your hips stirred over his, and Joel audibly groaned. At last, he dropped a palm to your ass and gave it a taut smack, and your whole lower half reverberated with the sensation—and a welt of pleasure.

“You think I want it to be like this?” Joel said, voice strained, fingers kneading over the flesh he’d just struck, “Think I enjoy havin’ the biggest set’a fuckin’ blue balls known to man whenever I’m around ya, honey?”

You winced when you were spanked again, letting out a whimper into the seat’s charcoal-colored upholstery.

“I can help with that,” you hissed, feeling him massage the spot once more. You arched your back into his touch.

“No. You’d make it worse,” Joel shook his head, “Once I get a feel inside this sweet cunt I’ll never wanna stop.”

At the soft rumble of his words, you felt yourself growing aroused. Noticeably so. Your skin broke out in broad swaths of gooseflesh every place he touched, and in the wake of those hands grew a pool of dull warmth. Sticky, slick, soak-straight-through-your-shorts sort of warmth.

Joel’s hand hovered about an inch from the source.

“We’d get bored eventually. It’d be fine,” you said, words crawling off of your parched tongue with some difficulty now. That faint, heady feeling from before had become a high, finally, and it seemed every sense you possessed was ablaze with desire. You were barely able to breathe, much less speak, but there you went, rambling anyway,

“Soon enough, you’ll get over the thrill of screwing me, and I’ll find a nice, polite, age-appropriate boy to spend the rest of my life having nice, polite sex with, and we can both pretend like this never happened. Deal?”

It was quite possibly the dumbest offer you’d ever made.

Joel slotted his hand between your legs to rub against that dampened patch of fabric. You almost jumped.

“Yeah? Just fuck around and forget about it?” Joel spoke, and you truly couldn’t tell if it was a sneer or real sincerity, as your eyes were squeezing shut, “Is that all you want from me, sugar?”

His fingers slipped beneath your shorts and made swift, easy contact with your heat. You buried your face in the seat and tried to muffle the sounds that were clawing their way out of your chest, while your hips tilted up.

“Please, Joel,” you whimpered.

By now, your head was spinning, in a daze, that you almost didn’t notice him tug your shorts down your legs. Or take them off at your ankles. You did get a sense of when he was breaching your folds—taking two, meaty fingers and trailing them up the slick glaze of your cunt.

“Doesn’t seem like this pussy wants ‘nice and polite’ to me,” Joel murmured, eyes gradually fastening to that lovely, exposed spot pointed up to him. He wet his lips, “Needs somethin’ else, doesn’t she, darlin’?”

Speaking of your pussy in third-person wasn’t something you ever thought could be hot, but coming from Joel? While his fingers traced up and down the seal of your entrance, tips circling your tight, hot, throbbing hole? Arousing didn’t even begin to cover it.

You pushed your ass back, and Joel chuckled above you.

“Wanna fuck daddy’s fingers? Is that it?” he taunted.

No, no, no—you wanted his cock buried inside you. But now you just needed reprieve from that ache, and your senses were practically on the fritz trying to get it.

Your hips rocked back and forth over his fingers—sliding the two digits in and out of your cunt with each motion—and, as much as Joel would’ve liked to make you beg and wait a little, your desperate pleas as you fucked his hand were more than enough to satiate him. He worked his free arm under your body and pinched hard on one nipple, eliciting a soft moan of ‘Joel’ underneath him.

“Oh, baby,” he breathed, watching you rut your hips for more friction, “That’s it, baby, fuck daddy’s fingers. Use my hand to make yourself feel good— that’s my girl.”

At the last, you probably could’ve cum on the spot, and Joel could tell by the way you clenched around him. He nudged a third finger between your plush, sensitive walls and heard your moans take on an even higher pitch.

“Hurts,” you whimpered, with no real indication of pain. You just felt stretched out, stuffed, and aching again. The only ‘hurt’ was not having even more of him in you, “Need more of you daddy, please. It hurts.”

Joel wanted to see you cum on his fingers. He really did. But when you got down to begging and pleading for his cock like that, the man’s whole heartbeat throbbed in his jeans, and he simply didn’t possess the resolve to refuse.

He hoisted you upright in his lap so you were straddling his hips. The fabric of his jacket hung loose off your frame and both of your arms as you latched around him.

“Are you high?” Joel asked, voice evening out all of a sudden to pin you with a serious look.

“Yeah.”

“How high?”

“I can consent, Joel.” Your thighs tightened around his sides, and your hips had already begun to stir.

“Not just can consent—do consent. Do you want this?” Joel’s hands moved from the small of your back to cup your face. You gave him a squished-together pout.

“Yes, I want this,” you managed through pinched cheeks. When Joel released you, you lowered your own hands to the buckle of his belt.

It felt foreign and familiar at once—this age-old ritual of fumbling for each other’s clothes and wrestling to get them off, like your bodies might catch fire if you didn’t act fast enough. Joel was a tad more graceful as he shrugged his jacket off of you, peeled your tank top off, and helped you maneuver your bare limbs around him. You, on the other hand, felt half-feral and every bit the wide-eyed novice while you stripped his body garment by garment and wordlessly told him just leave the jeans, I can’t wait another fucking second. Joel bit back a grin and had to steady you above him, feeling his cock twitch against his tummy but still slowing down enough to remind you, shhh, shhh, honey, it ain’t goin’ nowhere.

You had a tough time remembering that as you rubbed your wet centre over his shaft. Feeling so good you feared the feeling might escape any second, you whined.

“I know, baby, I know,” Joel cooed as your head fell in the crook of his neck, “Still hurtin’ somethin’ awful, hm?”

The tip of his cock just barely grazed over your clit and you buried your face even deeper, nodding furiously; Joel leaned forward to grab some item out of the glove compartment behind you and braced your body to him.

He tore something with his teeth. You craned your neck just slightly.

“Don’t laugh,” Joel muttered, voice momentarily stifled by bright, metallic wrapping.

“Is that…” You straightened up enough to cock a brow at him. Joel’s tongue rolled across the inside of his cheek.

“Cobwebs and all.”

Beneath your gaze was the flimsiest, dust-ridden, damn-near vintage condom—a decade old, at least.

“You buy that before or after the Great Depression?” you teased.

“Shut up.” Joel was already working it onto his dick.

“So Prohibition-coded.”

“I can find something to shove in that mouth, y’know.”

You were having too much fun at the old man’s expense, blissfully unaware that Joel was about one Gen X joke away from making you suck three of his arousal-soaked fingers. When you opened your mouth to speak—to try another wisecrack or else question the integrity of this ancient relic of a rubber—Joel crashed his lips against yours and made you mute with his tongue instead.

At the same time, he slowly eased himself inside you.

Your mouth fell open when you sank down on his length, fully, but no sound came out. You just gripped Joel’s shoulders and peered into his face as if to say, ‘Shit.’

No way any man was ever meant to feel this good.

No shot your walls were fitting his cock like a glove.

Joel soaked in your gaping, wordless stare with a nod.

“Good?”

“Great.”

You’d give all eight inches of the man a goddamn standing ovation if your legs weren’t feeling like jelly. Joel let out a small grunt when you clenched around him.

“Nice and…easy,” he said, as much to himself as to you. He pinched your hip in one gigantic hand and held you there, “Let ya take a second and adjust, alright, darlin’?”

“But Joel—” you whined, already trying to slide back up.

His grip kept you impaled on his dick, anchored in place. With the other hand, he brought a thumb to your clit.

“Just feel me, sweet pea,” Joel said, slow and languid as molasses while he touched you, “Ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

You couldn’t be sure if the man was a sadist or the world’s biggest fan of cockwarming—or just polite.

The bare, slightly-less-sexy truth was that Joel hadn’t done this in a very, very long time. Even the sex he’d had, close to a year ago, was something more of a flashbang than a bona fide carnal experience; he’d just bent a perfect stranger over the bathroom sink and drilled her. This was a fever dream, a first to end all firsts, and at present, Joel felt himself toeing a razor-thin line between self-restraint and bliss by just your presence alone.

In short, he didn’t want to fuck it up by busting too soon.

When you rolled your hips and squeezed your eyes shut above him, well, Joel almost fell into a panic.

Think of golf. Differential equations. The weather in Kuwait. Anything to get his mind off of how tight your pussy was holding him in, how lithe your body worked to grind above him while he sat there, so helpless and—

“Big,” you whined, stretched to the fullest you’d ever been. Unable to bounce up and down like you wanted but still squirming for more friction, “So big, daddy.”

Hockey. Geometry. Wind patterns around the Maldives. He held you even tighter, but your motions were growing desperate. You had to start moving.

“Joel, please,” you begged him.

“Baby, I’m—”

About to cum. I am two seconds away from cumming.

“Need you now, need you so—” your voice broke off in a moan as you sank your nails into his muscly shoulders, “So bad, daddy, please, please, please—”

On the seat beside you both, your phone lit up, buzzing:

Dad 💙

Fuck.

FUCK.

Your eyes locked on Joel’s in a shared look of panic and horror, and for once, your bodies stopped, perfectly still.

You knew your dad too well. Just as much as Joel did.

Your father wasn’t the type to call late at night unless something was up. And he wouldn’t stop calling until someone picked up.

“Should we…?” That whisper came from you.

Joel was frozen in fear, eyes now glued to the screen.

“Just…give it a sec,” he breathed, “Might be nothing.”

But his tone couldn’t mask the dread behind his words. He gritted his teeth and watched the phone ring.

It stopped.

Then started again.

The pair of you clung to one other in the old Ford’s bucket seat like your dad might veritably hear the two of you having sex from 1,300 miles away if you moved.

It stopped once more.

The screen stayed black.

You let out a small sigh and felt your eyes start to close.

Then the trill of a ringtone under Joel’s ass started up the second they’d fluttered shut, and suddenly your gaze was wide, and frightened, and freaking the fuck out when you realized that your dad was trying to reach Joel.

“Answer,” you hissed.

“What?!” The whites of Joel’s eyes were bigger now than you’d ever seen them.

“He’ll know something’s up! Just—” you slipped your hand under Joel’s rear, completely devoid of any sexual insinuation this time, and yanked his old iPhone 6 out of his pants, “Answer it. Now. Be cool.”

Joel’s expression was still paralyzed with terror, but he brought the ringing phone to his ear anyway. Gingerly tapped ‘answer’ once you’d smacked him on the bicep.

“He-e-y man.”

You were so fucking dead.

Your face hovered mere inches away, and you could almost hear the warble of your father’s voice on the line.

“Great,” Joel answered, stilted as a puppet with someone’s hand up its ass, “So good. How are you?”

A beat.

“She’s good, she’s good.”

For a moment, Joel’s gaze flitted to the spot where your bodies were still connected and you saw a flash of desire, followed by guilt, then his head tip back to close his eyes as he tried to concentrate on the conversation at hand.

“In the bathroom…Uh-huh…Phone must be dead…”

“No, she’s been a trooper—just fine…”

“Somewhere just shy’a Bedford, I think…”

You listened to Joel drone on and clench his jaw, and every now and then you’d feel a squelch in that tiny space between you two when one of you moved, and it occurred to you then that it probably was not in your best interest to stay seated on his dick while he talked. You shifted your legs underneath yourself to get up.

When you started to slide up Joel’s shaft—the first time you’d ever really moved, mind you—you felt a knot in your tummy start to tighten. The friction was to die for.

You sank back down and heard a hoarse little cry spill out from your lips before you got the chance to swallow it.

At the same time, Joel groaned. Then stopped himself. Then coughed—profusely.

“Sorry, just got a little—” Suddenly, a fiery set of eyes were searing holes in your head, angry as they were desperate, “—tickle in my throat is all.”

You ignored the strained Southern drawl and the eyes that looked ready to put a bullet between your own, and you rocked your hips again. The sensation was just too good. Your body practically acted of its own accord, and suddenly you were bouncing up and down in Joel’s lap.

The man beneath you looked enraged. Aroused.

Ready to wring your neck and maybe spit in your mouth.

“World’s movin’ too. damn. fast,” Joel seethed, trying to communicate to you semi-covertly while you rode his cock, “She’s one hell of a— firecracker, man, I’ll tell ya.”

You heard your dad’s laughter on the other end. While the sound subsided to chuckles, Joel grabbed your neck. He covered the mouthpiece for a second, then, in a murmur,

“This is not a fucking game.”

He squeezed your throat so tight you probably could’ve lost all circulation going to your head, but you smiled.

In spite of the hot, glowing embers of pleasure taking shape at the pit of your stomach and the coil that kept twisting and swelling inside, you grinned down at him. Then you mouthed, softly, ‘Yes, it is,’ and you rocked your hips against him even harder.

Joel drew in a breath through his teeth and watched you ride him with bleary, half-hooded eyes—keeping one hand on your carotid as the other hand cradled the phone to his ear. The man was transfixed.

By the pinch of just one set of fingers, you knew you were done for. A dwindling supply of oxygen, combined with your high and the hundreds of nerve-endings being brushed by Joel’s cock every other moment, you were spiraling toward release and didn’t know how to stop it.

When Joel pursed his lips and lifted his hips to start fucking up into you, you had to let go. Couldn’t hold on. You grabbed hold of his forearm, still hovering across your throat, and you moaned as the bliss washed over you. You slid your needy lower half back and forth, squeezed that tanned, tough arm practically bulging with veins above you, and you came around Joel’s cock. You whimpered his name, again and again, feeling him stroke your walls and fuck you through a euphoric high.

The next thing you felt was the seat cushion behind you—and the shift of Joel’s body weight pinning you down.

His cock hadn’t slipped an inch when he flipped you over; his grip was still secure on the phone.

The only thing that had changed was that look: malicious and vindictive with the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Joel felt you pulse around him, starting to come down from your high, and he just decided to fuck you even harder.

“Shouldn’t be much longer now…” Joel hummed aloud, lowering a hand to your throbbing clit and muttering a soft ‘Uh-huh’ to your father while you clawed at his wrist.

“Joel,” you choked.

Now the feeling was too much. You were still so wet, raw, and sensitive that the pad of his thumb almost drew a shriek from your chest when he moved his finger in circles. You heard them chat about football. Joel shared a short, strained laugh with the man on the other end and pretended not to hear your whines as he continued to rail you senseless in the front seat of his car.

With the diversion of the phone call keeping his own climax at bay, Joel was free to fuck you as rough as he pleased—and couldn’t be more in awe seeing you veer close to the edge, again.

“Please, daddy, please,” you beseeched him, tears springing to your eyes as Joel’s thrusts kept shaking you.

He just shook his head and smiled as if to say, ‘Hold still.’

“It’ll be fine,” he said, “Mahomes is next-level. Best they can do is keep their heads down and take it, y’know?”

Your own soft, aching hole was taking the beating of a lifetime, and somehow, you managed to meet Joel’s gaze with a look that almost struck him as loving. That blissed-out, cockdrunk look of pure debauchery crossing your eyes in a way he hadn’t come to find in ages, if ever, was intoxicating. He felt the first fluttering pulses of your orgasm squeeze around him again, and suddenly he was pumping you faster, drilling you harder, gripping your throat and starting to sense his own climax draw near.

He couldn’t finish off like this.

Not talking shop and Super Bowl to your father—no.

Joel had to do something you might rightly hate him for for the rest of your life, and never forget, or forgive.

He lowered the phone, and right before he did, said,

“She just stepped outta the bathroom, actually. No, yeah, she’s right here. Wanna say hello?”

Your heart skipped a beat and nearly jumped into your throat. You tried to shake your head—fast—and even went so far as to try and dodge the phone when Joel brought it down to your ear, but that motherfucker had a grip like you couldn’t believe and wouldn’t stop stroking inside you or holding you down. You hated that you found Joel’s total dominance and control…kind of hot.

You flashed him the most nasty, bratty, ‘I’ll get you for this, Joel’ look you could muster anyway, and when he pressed the phone to your cheek, you mouthed a few more silent expletives before changing your air entirely:

“Hey, dad!”

Joel knew he was cooked from the second you said hello. Something objectively malevolent inside him got a rush to hear you speak to your dad in such a contrived, high-pitched tone of voice, knowing the unspeakable things he was doing to your body the whole fucking time. He could focus, now, with no need for any strained civilities of his own, but deep down, he knew it wouldn’t last long. He would not last long.

Might as well make it fun while it lasts.

“He…did,” you hummed, flitting your eyes up to Joel when he brushed your lower lip with his thumb—still holding the phone up for you while he rutted into you, “No, nuh-uh…Mr…Mr. Miller didn’t mind, no sir.”

Shit, the sound of you saying ‘sir’ was something that made Joel’s whole body lurch with pleasure. He made a mental note to have you call him that later and stroked your lip once more.

You tried to turn your face away—telling Joel, wordlessly, that you couldn’t keep up this conversation with your father if you had a thumb in your fucking mouth, but Joel didn’t care. He watched you pause for a moment, let just the tip of his finger press into your tongue, then, battling your better judgment, wrap your lips around the digit almost cautiously and suck. He knew you liked it, too.

He knew it by the way you bobbed your head, hummed, and nodded every time he thrust inside your aching walls and dragged his cock back out. The way your teeth clamped hard on his thumb whenever he grazed a particularly sensitive spot and how your lips held him in like a gag, or some other thing to keep you quiet amidst the moans and the whimpers bubbling up in your chest.

Suddenly, Joel was at your other ear, lips grazing skin and tongue praising your every move.

“My sweet girl.”

“Doin’ such a good job stayin’ quiet.”

“Takin’ daddy’s cock so well, aren’t ya, darlin’?”

From that point on, every single one of your father’s words over the phone fell on deaf ears—all you could hear was Joel. All you could feel was Joel. Your lips parted as if starting to speak, but all that would come out were small puffs of air, perfectly in sync with each one of Joel’s thrusts.

“You okay, hon? You sound…distracted,” your dad pressed. A hint of concern rose from his end of the line.

At length, Joel gripped both of your legs and brought them up over his shoulders, and he grinned before kissing your ankle and shoving his cock even deeper.

“Yes!” you yelped as you crushed the phone to your ear, hoping your father couldn’t hear any of the filthy sounds down below, “Just a little stretched—I mean stressed out, is all.”

The sick, smug fuck currently wedged eight inches deep inside you almost burst out laughing. If you weren’t so perilously close to your fourth orgasm of the night, you would’ve told Joel to take a long walk off a short bridge.

“Just worried about grades a-a-and all,” you stammered.

Joel leaned forward and almost tore a scream out of your chest—his tip was kissing the edge of your cervix now.

“Yes, sir. I will.” You tried your hardest not to whine and almost let out a sigh, “I’ll…ask him about it, for sure.”

As bone-crushingly fun as this all was, Joel was close.

He could feel it in the furthest recesses of his stomach; he was about to blow his load.

So, leveraging his weight to strike just the right angle and pushing his thumb in to stifle your moans, Joel sped up and drew even closer, face-to-face, so he could see your every expression from a hair’s breadth away.

He was so near he could hear your dad’s droning voice. See you struggle to take cock the closer you got to your release. You hadn’t cum in such quick succession…ever, really. All but one of the guys you’d let between your legs before seemed like amateurs compared to Joel, and to be honest, you weren’t sure if you could make it to four.

You popped his thumb out of your mouth and mumbled some ‘Sure, okay’ or other to your dad before casting a pleading look up at Joel. His hips were working up to a ruthless pace.

You covered the mouthpiece.

“I can’t, Joel.”

“Sure you can, sugar.”

“Joel,” you hissed, and tried to grab his wrist, when you felt your stomach start to cave. Every exposed inch of skin gave way to waves of heat, and your toes curled in. Worst of all, Joel was letting out sounds you hadn’t ever heard—short, ragged breaths that broke off in low groans—and it felt as though he were cradling your head. Holding you to him. Your eyes were locked on one another, your mouths practically panting in time, and what parts of you had not yet become commingled with him were practically coated with sweat. And shaking.

Then, in tones that rang like music to your ears:

“Alright, I’ll let ya head to bed, then. G’night, pumpkin.”

Your dad hadn’t even fully hung up the phone before you flung it across the car. Heels dug deep in Joel’s back.

“Cum for daddy,” Joel coaxed, “Cum all over this cock.”

You didn’t need much more instigation than that.

You came. He followed.

And it probably split his eardrum in two having his name screamed so fucking loud, but frankly, Joel hadn’t seen a reason for going deaf that he could’ve enjoyed so much.

Then, he didn’t sink so much as simply collapse on top of you while you both kicked back and let the waves of ecstasy roll over you. You adored his warmth in spite of the heat practically suffocating you both in that car.

Until it was in you.

Sticky, sweet dripping inside you.

You pushed Joel hard in the shoulder.

“Did it…”

“What?”

“Joel!”

You flipped your legs down and tapped his abdomen furiously, telling him, pull out, pull out right fucking now, and Joel gently obliged. Dragged his cock three-fourths of the way out when a frail, tattered condom came loose around the head of his cock and almost fell off entirely. That damn prehistoric rubber had broken inside you.

“JOEL!”

“I’m sorry! Fuck, I— fuck.”

Joel scrambled to get his cum-drenched cock and what remained of the condom away from your body, but the damage was done. You started throwing on clothes.

“I’m ovulating this week, I am so fucking fucked!”

Joel swallowed, shimmying his boxers and jeans back into place and scoping the front seat for his shirt.

“What’s…ovulating?”

You wanted to tear your hair out at the root.

There was no way this man had survived half a century on earth and didn’t understand the menstrual cycle.

“It means I can get pregnant if we don’t get a Plan B up in this bitch immediately. Let’s GO!”

That part seemed to click. Joel almost fell over himself trying to find his keys, while you slid out of the Bronco.

“Where are you going?!”

“To— to try and get some of this shit out of me first!”

Joel bounded after you, and within the first steps, you were sprinting across the parking lot. Your sweaty, half-naked companion tried—and failed—to slow you down.

“Are you not on birth control?” Joel huffed.

“Are you not capable of buying condoms more than once every fucking decade—or three?” you snapped.

Your strides were growing wider and more frantic by the second. Joel clutched his side and struggled to keep up.

“I’m…sorry,” he grunted, more embarrassed and worn-out than anything at the moment, “I’m sorry, darlin’.”

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t get your cum out of me, daddy.”

Your words couldn’t have gotten any more caustic or merciless—or inopportune—if you tried.

As it was, you were passing by the breezeway where all the bored lacrosse players were still lounging around, cracking cold ones, and craning their necks to see what the fuss outside was all about. The sounds of your feet racing fast on gravel and you and Joel’s raucous, bickering back-and-forth had caught their attention, and shortly, Connor was sticking his head around the corner. His expression—along with all the faces behind him—had twisted with horror. Confusion. A visible look of disgust.

Joel had just slowed down to catch his breath. He doubled over and braced both hands on his knees.

“I’ll fuckin’…duct tape my dick next time I hit it, honey!” he wheezed, barely loud enough for you to hear but perfectly audible to all the terrified guys around him.

Joel turned his head and almost groaned.

Then he was straightening himself back up, starting to retreat from the group who had him pinned with genuinely frightened—and nauseated—looks.

Joel normally wouldn’t care. This time, though, he threw his hands up and thought, fuck it, I’ll clear the air.

Over his shoulder, he grinned, yelling back to the guys:

“I’m not actually her dad!”

All of them stared back. Half-jealous, half-awestruck, Connor stood up, raised his beer, and called after him:

“I SURE FUCKIN’ HOPE YOU’RE NOT!”