#Need a hard kick in the nuts

[deep-sea-scholar]

Okay I need to rant about Glass Onion for several paragraphs

WARNING: SPOILERS!

Glass onion is phenomenal, and I personally enjoyed its themes more than the first Knives Out movie.

Now don’t get me wrong, Knives Out is arguably the better film, but its strengths lie in the complexity and brilliant execution of its core mystery.  It’s a fantastic self-contained story about a shitty rich family and the people they directly affect.  The members of the family range across the political spectrum and all express different ideologies, but the moment a migrant working-class woman has a legitimized shot at their inheritance they band together to prevent her from improving her life.  It's interesting commentary on how wealthy people can talk a big game about helping others and being good people, but ultimately fall morally short when such actions threaten what they feel they “rightfully deserve.” But that's arguably the limitation of the film as its focus is entirely on the interpersonal conflict between the Thrombey family and Marta.

Glass onion isn’t limited by that.

The entire thematic core of Glass Onion concerns the damage that the rich and powerful can do to the world if they aren’t supervised, criticized, or limited. 

Aside from our lovely detective Benoit Blanc, the murdered Andi Brand, and her twin sister Helen, all of the characters are shitty people that are damaging the world in a uniquely horrible way as a direct consequence of the unchecked power and wealth they wield.

To start we have Governor Claire Dubella.  Her success in her political career has relied almost entirely on monetary support and influence from the films big bad and Elon Musk/Jeff Bezos analogue Miles Bron. Her platform has good objectives, and she’s passionate about hard topics like climate change, but her ability to act is entirely limited by the influence Miles has on her.  If Miles wants her to do something, she feels like she has no choice but to, which results in her greenlighting an experimental powerplant that Miles wants built to advocate for his new fuel source.  It’s untested technology, it’s volatile and dangerous as fuck, and Claire feels like she has no choice but to go along with it because if she doesn’t Miles will withdraw support from her career, or worse, support her opponents.  She likens it to selling her soul, and it really is.  She willingly undermined the health of her constituents for the sake of saving her career, and the shitty part is that Miles only controls her because she lets him.  She could deny the power plant, or leave Miles, at any time, but she doesn’t because she perceives the personal risk as to great.  She is a politician that won’t stand up for the people she represents, and no one calls her out on it.

Next, we have Duke Cody, the Alpha male men’s rights streamer who is just like, the absolute worst person in this film.  His views and opinions are incredibly toxic, his actions and beliefs directly hurt the people he influences through the hurtful products he promotes, and thanks to Mile's wealth and influence both he and his terrible, terrible, terrible opinions have official backing and some form of legitimacy.  He’s almost the direct inverse of Claire, being someone who really shouldn’t have support, but is getting it anyway because he’s Mile’s friend.  And because Miles doesn’t care and is giving Duke support and helping him dodge legal trouble, he enables Dukes terrible opinions and lets them influence and hurt people.  

Then we have Birdie, my personal favorite of the disruptors.  She is a fashion designer, media star, and breathtakingly, beautifully, stupid. She’s not actively malicious like some of the other characters, but she is just so fundamentally incapable of thinking things through. When paired with her wealth and influence, this results in horrifying real-world consequences.  She has her iconic fashion line of sweatpants made at the most infamous sweatshop in Bangladesh not because she doesn’t care, but because she thought a sweatshop is just a shop where you make sweatpants.  She’s just very stupid, but at the very least has the decency to be aware of it.  She even decides to own up to her Bangladesh mistake of her own volition, independent of the plot.  The problem is that no one corrected for her, or guided her, or worked to influence her decisions.  Miles just cared about what her brands could do for him and was perfectly willing to throw her under the bus to preserve his image.

Last of the four Disruptors is Lionel Toussaint.  Not much to say about him actually, he’s fairly straightforward.  He works directly under Miles as a scientist and is a parallel for the people that want to have confidence in tech ‘pioneers’ like Elon Musk.  After all they’ve been successful, and things have worked out in the past, surely, we can give them leeway with new technology development.  But there’s a reason why technology is prototyped and tested, and that’s because things always go wrong, and you need to take time and care to figure out how to ensure new technology is safe.

Which leads us to this asshole.

Miles goddamn Mona Lisa Burning Bron.

The absolute, motherfucking, shithead moron directly responsible for everything bad that happens in this film.

I lied about Duke Cody because this absolute buffoon is the actually the worst person in this film.

He manipulates politicians into endangering their constituents for his own gain, he enables the absolute worst and most toxic people by giving them legitimate platforms, he promotes influencers without caring for what their unchecked actions result in, and he deludes the people that work for him and want to believe in him with self-assured delusion.  This man is arrogant, an indiscribable moron (worse than Birdie because at least she acknowledges her failings), dangerously delusional, obsessed with control, and most damning of all, unchecked.

Miles Bron is a direct look at how too much unchecked power, wealth, and influence results in unmitigated disasters.  He doesn’t care about helping people, because he doesn’t take the time to make sure untested technology is safe for the public, handwaving legitimate concerns with denial and false assurance.  He doesn’t care about his friends, because he murders two of them the instant, they become a threat to his control.  He’s not smart, because all of his genius is the result of other people, he’s just skilled at advertising it as his own to get the credit.  All he cares about is doing what he wants and being in control, because his opinion and self-worth and legacy is more precious to him than any other thing in the world.  The man is a lie so absolute, so convoluted, and so stupidly straightforward that the slightest piece of truth will bring the facade of his existence crumbling down.  And it’s hard to acknowledge something like that in the real world because someone that successful being that malicious and dumb sounds incredibly stupid.  It’s an easy lie to buy because it’s more believable than how stupid the truth is.

Anyway, ultimately my conclusion is that we see a strikingly accurate portrayal of Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk in this film, and it was very cathartic seeing their hopes, ambitions, and house burn down around them.  Because billionaires like them are shithead morons that lie to and manipulate everyone, and their arrogant and harmful self-delusions compound through the people they manage to influence.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

[gremlingottoosilly]

I met a guy in the Summer (dilf!Konig x fem!Reader)

Your boyfriend is an asshole. Luckily, his hot dad just returned from deployment. CW and Tags: Cheating, dub-con, size kink, daddy kink, age gap(reader in 20s, Konig is early 40s), Konig is a pervert, slightly obsessive Konig, love(and lust) at first sight, fingering, dom!Konig Word count: 3713 AO3

“Just one more game, babe, don’t be a buzzkill. I don’t want to end at a loss.” You didn’t want to be a buzzkill, of course. You simply wanted to be a good girlfriend, have some domestically cozy date, and for your boyfriend to at least try to put an effort into being with you. It wasn’t much to ask for, really. You hoped so, at least. You didn’t want to be an annoying, nagging girlfriend who only ever waits for another reason to yell at him, but your patience started to run thin. 

You spend the past three hours either listening to his apathetic rambling about the shows he watched – really, you wanted to invest in stuff he liked, but an abnormally large amount of animes he talked about had 1000-year-old girls who looked like they were 10, wearing inappropriate outfits, and you started to raise the alarm. 

You also watched him play – and also listened to his rage quitting and angry voice messages to his team that, honestly, made you slightly anxious. You never liked loud people, people who were so easy to rage about something as silly as some colorful video game with too many characters to look after. 

So, like a good girlfriend would – you wanted to be a good girlfriend, he was such a nice guy before you started dating, and you need something to think about besides the tremendous amount of study work you are doing for college – you decided to go and look for snacks. Maybe bring something for him as well. 

— I’ll find something to eat, alright? 

He didn’t respond at first, so you shook his shoulder. Your boyfriend took off his headphones with annoying look on his face, half-turning to look at you. You gulped, suddenly feeling like a child in front of the principal – not a feeling that you were supposed to feel around your partner, but with him, you somehow constantly felt like you were being judged. 

— Nah, stay here. I don’t want my father to see you. 

— Ah…your father is at home? 

You never heard anyone else being at the house – big house, you must admit, and it’s embarrassing almost how you never thought about his family. He lives with his dad, apparently, and the depth of your relationships can only be judged by the fact you literally didn’t know what his father’s name was. 

— Returned from his fucking deployment. He’d ask too many questions about you. 

— You didn’t tell him about me? 

Ah, now you’re hurt a little bit. You knew it wasn’t anything serious or too committed yet, but you intended to make this work. To try and fix all the problems you can without ending things abruptly. 

— He never asked. Not like he cares too much, but…

An apathetic dad, huh. 

You started to slowly piece together the puzzle that was your boyfriend’s horrible boyfriend skills. Now, you want to meet the man who conceived him and kick him in the nuts for creating such an unlovable human being who somehow captivated your chronically lonely heart. 

— If you don’t want me to come and meet him, I can go home. 

He doesn’t answer because his queue is finally coming to another match – you simply nod, knowing everything you need to. You can grab a little snack for yourself, fuck off to your dorm and rethink your life choices while your roommate is getting pounded by some gruss British bloke with an accent that makes your ears bleed. 

You have dignity, and right now, it has asked you to get some snacks from the kitchen. 

*** Now, the only thing König wanted after returning from deployment was to take as many hot showers as he could, shut his bastard of a son up, and get some delicious food waiting for him in the freezer. He was already home for a few days, but adjusting is always hard when you basically fucking hate living at your own house. Of-fucking-course, his son was watching the house while he was away – and now he can’t even think of a good excuse to set him off to his mother. Too old to do this, and split custody never really worked when not even one part of the relationship wanted to take care of the kid. 

König closes the door of the refrigerator – of course, his son took every good thing that he stashed for himself. With a groan, the colonel fights the urge to finally throw him out of the house – a thing he needed to do a few years ago, just when he celebrated his 18th, but some sentimental part of his heart instead promised to help with finding a place close to the college. No good deed goes unpunished. 

With a groan, he takes a few steps from the fridge – and then he almost stumbles across an angel. 

Scheisse

Now, König never thought of himself as a predator who prefers running after college girls who might as well be his daughters. He never thought of himself as a gut who liked them young – his wife, god forsake her name, was his age when they started dating, and he hardly had any sexual encounters with a person under 25 in the past few years. Well, not like he had any sexual encounters in the past years, but…

The thing is – he never thought he liked girls with wide eyes, pouty faces, and trembling hands who were holding a bag of his cookies that he carefully stashed away from his son. 

You are wearing something cute, a nice skirt and an adorable pink cardigan that looks so cozy and warm and soft, and he fights the urge to grab your skirt and simply lift it, You’re dressed up for a cute coffee date, and König has to double check if he isn’t dreaming and no one has decided to play a prank on him and send him a cute callgirl. 

— Oh! Sorry. It’s yours, isn’t it? 

You give him his cookies back – but not before your fingers fished another salty caramel goodness out of the bag, and you bit it. He looks at your teeth, at your lips, and glimpses of your tongue – god, he is an old, dirty bastard because even his baggy pants aren’t enough to hide his boner. You have no right to look this pretty for a man who hasn’t seen a woman in three months and hasn’t had sex in the past few years. 

You lick the crumbs from your fingers – it’s such a deliberate action that he can’t believe he actually sees it, and it’s not even something from porn he used to like. 

— Ja. You can have it. 

He would give you the code to his bank account if you asked for it. 

— Thank you, sir. I’m…well, I assume if Paul didn’t introduce me to you…I’m his girlfriend. Nice to meet you. 

You lick your lips and take a step back, pressed against the counter. He looks at the sway of your hips, a bit of crumbs on your shirt, and almost brushes it away with his hands. It would be a good excuse to touch your chest – but he can’t be like this, he has to keep his urges under control, or else his son will never forgive him. 

Yeah, like he needs a better reason to throw his useless son from his home. 

— Girlfriend? He never spoke about you. 

You look sad, and he immediately curses under his breath. For a moment, you look too fragile – too real. He can’t handle this look on a woman, especially as pretty and young as you are. You bat your eyelashes, even involuntarily, and he already prepares to give you the keys to his home just so you’d stop with such miserable expressions. He has a spare bedroom. 

He has his bedroom with a bed that would be enough for both of you. 

— Ah. Um. We’re…I guess we’re not at this stage yet. 

— Knowing him, you’ll never be, Schatz. 

You look at him immediately – you’re offended, angry, and sad at the same time. There is a certain stubbornness in your eyes that immediately makes him want to simply scoop you in his arms, lift you, and drag you straight to the altar – and here he thought that his impulses over getting married would be over after his first divorce. 

— What do you mean by this, sir? 

You look uncertain now, he can see this in your eyes – and really, knowing his asshole of a child, he is almost sure that Paul never once got you off, either physically or emotionally. 

Now, König never once considered himself to be a good man. He has killed countless people, overthrown many governments, and made shitty jobs for shitty people way more than saving hostages to help the good guys – and in the romantic field, it’s even worse. Wife, unsatisfied with his controlling tendencies and inability to feel normal love for a human being – and a son who hates him because, in fact, he never once wanted to have a kid. 

He looks at you and sees a pretty young thing, still in college or freshly out of, probably without a stable job and normal social standing – a good girl won’t be with his son if she isn’t stupid or extremely desperate for a relationship. 

The thing is, König is also extremely desperate for another warm body next to his, to feel a woman beside him, to love and obsess over someone – he looks at your pouty lips and shaky hands, at the way you bite the corner of your glossy mouth, and he almost wants to drop you on this very table and fuck you until you’re crying under him. He can’t do just that, of course. It would probably make you extremely uncomfortable and scared, but…well, quite frankly, his son doesn’t deserve you. 

König is. 

— I won’t sugarcoat it, Schatz. My son is a Scheiß Arschloch…fucking asshole, that is. I’m surprised he brought home someone as cute as you. 

You feel embarrassment collecting in your body. Paul’s dad is a…interesting man. 

Tall, broad, very muscular – even his baggy house clothes aren’t really concealing his extremely interesting physique from your eyes. He looks yummy and tasty, and you fight the urge to eye the bulge in his pants because you’re a good girl, you don’t look at your boyfriend’s dad like this. 

König has greying ginger hair, locks already curling slightly at the lack of cutting, and you fight the urge to sit on the counter and get your palm in his scalp, massage his head gently, and pull him closer for a kiss. You feel like a dirty, horrible woman – your boyfriend is in his room, probably enjoying his time on your “date” while you’re lusting over his father. 

Then again, this date already felt like a disaster. This relationship, too. 

— Paul isn’t all that bad, sir. 

“He at least has a nice dick,” you wanted to add but stopped yourself. Paul is tall and somewhat strong – if he weren’t sitting at his computer all day, you would call him even muscular. And he has a nice dick, yes, even though he had no idea how to use it. You liked the idea of laying with him, of spraying your jaw trying to fit all of this in your mouth, but his kinks and his sex skills being directly taken from porn…not really your thing. 

You look at König and wonder if they are similar in all of the places. He is his father, after all. 

König catches your gaze locked on his bulge and smirks. 

God, if he knew his son had such a cute girl, he would ask her to come earlier. He is two weeks off deployment and probably won’t take another long contract for a few months because they just upped his retirement payings, and he can afford to slack off a little bit, only visiting the home base for some training and instructions for rookies. 

He can afford to retire and never worry about money again – but he needs someone to make his days less boring, right? 

You look like a good candidate. 

— I’m sure my son was convincing, but I know him better than anyone. He doesn’t deserve you, Schatz. 

He is shitty at flirting, it’s not his forte – he can flaunt his money, maybe, show you in his wallet and bank account face first. He can just straight up ask you to be his sugar baby and suck his cock instead of doing your studies, but he can’t flirt and manipulate to save his life. Lying isn’t something he is good for, this is why his wife has left. 

— I…not sure we should be having this conversation here. 

You’re a good girl, and it’s infuriating. He knows that having someone in his bed shouldn’t be the end goal for his leave, but he wants you, and by the look on your face, you aren’t opposed to the idea. König doesn’t understand if he likes that you’re so reserved about it or if he wants you to be a bit more slutty – but he captures you in the space between the kitchen counter and presses you with his body. 

— You want to see the bedroom then?

Pushes you so close his knee gets between your legs – it might look involuntary like he didn’t exactly want for it to be placed here, but you aren’t dumb, you know what he wants from you. Like a good fucking girl, you’re too shy to give it to him right about now. God, sometimes he hates being so nice to people around him. 

— Sir, this is very…

He got you caged in his hands, body trapped in his embrace – you jerk your head upwards a little bit, staring at him like a small bird in the hands of a predator. He isn’t a strong man in regard of morals, he doesn’t see anything wrong with fucking his son’s girlfriend – if the girl is up to it. And if she isn’t…well, he better make sure she is. 

— What is it, Schatz? Paul won’t hear us in his headphones.

You know just how wrong it is, and you almost want to escape – his dick grinds on your pelvis through his pants, and you’re horrified to see how big it is. Excited too, of course, he is bigger than your boyfriend ever could be, and you don’t want to be a slut, but, oh well, not like you were in a committed and serious relationship anyway. 

Paul was seeing your friends more than you ever saw them – it’s probably a sign that you should settle for someone older. You did enjoy Lana Del Rey's songs, after all. 

— I don’t want to break his heart. 

— He doesn’t have one. 

You’re lost when he pushes his lips to kiss you over and over again – a surprisingly good kisser, and you give in because it was the first time in forever a kiss made you feel this good. His lips are sending electricity down your spine, you want to moan just from his knee, pushing on the softness of your cunt through that adorable skirt you liked so much – you feel so small like this, so tiny in his hands, you…

God, you feel like a slut, and you like it. 

Soon enough, you answered the kiss, your lips meeting his in a dance that made you feel hot, that made you feel like your boyfriend never could. Never thinking of yourself as someone who can fall so easily into the hands of an older man, now you know that he got you right where he wanted. 

You push your hand on his pants, trying to get the control back – but he stops you, a giant hand enveloping your wrist and pushing you back. With a surprise on your face, König just wants to kiss you all over. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that you deserve way more than being fucked on the rough kitchen counter while your so-called boyfriend is too busy dickriding his friends in some useless online game. 

— Not now, princess. You deserve better than being fucked on the kitchen counter, ja? It can come later. 

“Later” sounds like a promise, and you bite back your moan when he keeps pushing his knee against your cunt, making you throb and clench on nothing. He is such a gentleman, you can’t help but compare him to his son – and his fabulous ability to make you feel dirty after fucking you in the backseat of his car and tossing you to your dorm with your pussy still wet and messy after you didn’t cum. 

You sob, not from sadness, but from pleasure mixed with some weird, unnatural for you emotions – you feel weird, strained here like this, but you hug his neck and whisper something in his ear. Something, dangerously sounding just like “daddy, please” 

König is blushing, and he looks fucking adorable. 

— Daddy, ja? God, you’re dangerous, liebling. Going to get me in trouble with my son later. 

He laughs when he kisses you again, his hand slipping in your panties only to find them completely soaked – he knows you deserve a nice pillow and soft sheets under your body, and he pushes you up so you can hug his waist with your legs. You rely on him like a cute pet, and you’re so perfect in his hands he curses himself for not seeing you before. 

He is going to ruin you for anyone but him. Put so much cum in you, it will make your tummy bulge – make you his precious sugar baby, pay for your dumb college and make you move to his bedroom instead of some shitty dorm you probably share with four other people. 

He can be good for you – but he will ruin you for anyone else, anyone appropriate, every guy your age who clearly doesn’t know how to treat a lady right. 

— So wet for me…such a filthy thing, I didn’t know my son dated a whore. 

— N…not a whore, please…

He kisses you on your forehead, silently apologizing. You feel his crooked, scarred smile, and you push your face up to kiss him – you want to touch him so badly it makes you feel stupid. 

— Sorry, Schatzen. Not a whore, a good girl for her daddy, ja? So nice for me, too fucking young…

— W…we really shouldn’t… — Tshhh, don’t think about it. Thinking will only hurt your pretty dumb head. — I’m not…

— Quiet, little one. Let daddy handle everything.

He kisses you over and over, his fingers playing with your pussy – meaty digits digging in your hole, making you whimper from sudden intrusion. He is big, bigger than anyone else, just two of his fingers are enough to spread you as much as normal cock would, and even though you’re used to taking Paul’s size, you just know that his dad would be much, much bigger. He is going to split you open, and you will love every fucking second. 

It feels so wrong, you still aren’t sure if you want him to touch you like this. 

It feels so right, he is experienced and eager, pushing every button to make you squirm in his grasp. Your orgasm comes embarrassingly quick – maybe because you haven’t gotten off in ages, only miserable masturbation sessions and poor attempts at faking your orgasm made it feel real. Paul never cared enough to actually get you off – but now…

You aren’t ready for him. You squirm in his grasp when the pressure becomes too much, and he soothes you, two fingers still buried in your soaked cunt. You feel so dirty, so wrong right now – you are cumming on the fingers of your boyfriend’s absent father, and you love every second of it. 

Post-orgasm clarity makes you whiny and sobby, and you whimper in his shoulder when he gently lifts you in his hands. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that he just scrambled your brain with that orgasm – it’s good, really, he might just want to keep your pretty head nice and empty for him. Not like you would ever need to think in his presence, the colonel can handle everything in- and out- of bed. 

König holds you close, not allowing you to scramble away no matter how embarrassed you are. You are his precious thing, with a pouty face, and he will do everything in his power to make you squirm on his fingers again and again before he makes you his wife for good. 

So impulsive, maybe this is why his son is such an asshole – taking the worst traits of his father. 

— Don’t cry, Schatzen. You’re okay, it felt good, didn’t it? 

— W…we shouldn’t have. Shit. I’m sorry, it was a m…god, I need to tell Paul. 

— I’ll tell him. 

— No! — I will tell my asshole of a son that you’re my girl now, ja? And then I will take you to the bedroom, so we can fuck. 

— I need to return to my dorm. 

— And then I will dine you properly, okay? Sorry, Liebling, I know I should court you before all of this…but we can afford to go a bit off board, ja? 

He is smiling, so smitten and obsessed over just having you cum on his fingers once – you don’t have the heart to say no. Never did. You’re a good, proper girl, and Paul was never treating you right anyway. You feel dirty, yes, but somehow, it is almost right. 

He peppers your face with kisses, like a dog lapping its tongue all over your skin – you’re so concentrated on the warmth of his strong, seasoned body that you don’t even look in the direction of the doorway to the kitchen. 

Paul, however, looks straight at you, disheartened and shocked. 

— W…what the fuck, dad?! König laughs, kissing you once again – deep, hot, with tongue and loud, sloppy sounds of your mouth pressing into one another. You’re stuck in place, still caged in his arms like a precious little pet you are. 

— She’ll make a good step mom, ja? 

You don’t even register his hands slowly caressing your fingers as if he already tries to check the ring sizes. 

[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!”

[pyrriax]

what if i just waited to post stuff until i've got my current three Ideas written

just post em all back to back and then sleep for a week

[ !! venting in the tags !! ]

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Study Buddy pt1

Stepdad!Anakin x femme reader

18+ MDNI

Warnings: dubcon, dd/lg, PiV, unprotected sex, gen. smut, baby trapping, edging kinda?, manipulation, possessiveness, age-gap, stepcest, inappropriate relationship, praise kink, breeding kink, innocence/purity kink

Info: stepdad Anakin just adores his stepdaughter! It’s not his fault that she’s so fucking fine. Anakin is a perv but it’s okay cause he loves you, Anakin just wants the best for you! And the best for you is him, obviously. spoiled little naive brat reader but Anakin prefers you that way. Reader acts more innocent/naive than they really are. Reader is over 18

🕊 Dead dove do not eat 🕊

The one where you just need alittle extra incentive.

You sighed, taking your calculus homework into the living room. Handing Anakin the Pepsi he requested and sat down in the floor. Leaning back against the couch and setting the notebook down on the coffee table so you could get back to work.

"Good girl." He praised, his fingers brushing against your cheek from behind you. He took a long drag from his cigarette before exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"What are you working on?" His eyes trailed downwards, lingering on your body for a moment, taking the opportunity to stare at the dimples in the small of your back. He was relaxed, shirtless and in his favorite pj pants with his socked feet kicked up on the coffee table next to you.

“Calculus homework.” You grumbled. “my brain is basically fried. This shit is driving me nuts.”

You pushed the notebook away in frustration and twirled the pencil between your fingers.

“Hey. Language.” He said gruffly. “Chill out, do you want help? I’m pretty alright at math.”

“Actually, yeah that would be great.” You nodded, grumbling in frustration.

Sometimes all you needed to understand something is to see it from a different angle, maybe Anakin, your step-dad could help with that.

"Alright, alright." He chuckled softly to himself before putting out his cigarette.

Standing up to stretch his arms above his head. The dark hairs leading to the waist of his pants exposed as his shirt rode up his abdomen. He knelt down so his face was level with yours. Reaching out, he took the notebook from you and scanned the pages.

"Hmm... huh... well, let's start here," he said, pointing to a problem written in your neat handwriting. Grunting as he sat down next to you, his arms resting on his knees.

After solving the equation he helped with the next question, and you were finally starting to get the hang of it. He gave you a kiss on the cheek as a reward, a soft one that made you smile, one that said ‘I’m so proud of you!’. For the next one you got right it was an unexpected but smooth kiss to your lips.

“Daddy.” You whispered in shock at his real kiss. “We’re not supposed to do that!”

Anakin’s gaze softened as he pulled you into a comforting hug.

“Aw sweet girl, I’m sorry. I should’ve explained myself first.” He sighed.

“This is real hard work isn’t it?” He asked, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Yeah it is.” You nodded.

He laughed a little. “And what do I always say when you do hard work?”

“You always tell me hard work deserves big rewards.” You grinned, thinking of all the times he’d taken you out to your favorite restaurant, to see a new movie, to buy you new things.

But your favorite rewards and treats were the ones he got you on his way home from work. Sometimes when he felt like you needed a little pick-me up, he’d stop at the store and get you a box of candy or one of those tiny little cutesy squishmallows that come in the surprise eggs.

He smiled, giving you a light squeeze just above the knee. “Exactly!”

“I’ve found a much better way to reward you my sweet girl.” He spoke in a cheerful tone in an attempt to make you smile and it was working effortlessly. “Somethin’ real special that I think you will love.”

“And it’s kisses?” You said, tilting your head to the side.

“Sometimes kisses, sometimes not.” He said, giving you a chaste kiss on the forehead.

“Well what’s the sometimes not?” You asked excitedly, what could possibly be better than kisses?

“Oh come on now.” He teased. “Treats and rewards are always better as surprises aren’t they?”

“Yeah you’re right.” You giggled.

“That's better," he cooed, satisfied by your reaction.

“Now come here, let's continue our 'lesson.'" With a gentle tug, he pulled you into the empty space between his legs, scooting your back toward him enough that he could easily rest his chin on your shoulder to watch you work.

He placed the notebook back on the coffee table and leaned in closer, his breath brushing against your neck as he spoke.

“So, how about we start with some stuff you already know? Something simple to ease us back into things?" He traced slow circles on your exposed lower back with his thumb, his fingers pressing gently into the flesh of your stomach as his massive hand rested on your side.

"O-okay..." You stuttered, unable to ignore the sudden warmth spreading throughout your body.

“Alright.” He nodded, flipping through the text book until he reached the previous chapter you had been working on in class. He wrote out some equations for you to solve and quickly worked them out himself on his phone calculator before typing the answers in his notes app and telling you to get started.

Each step in the equation that you did correctly Anakin would press a tiny little barely there kiss to your shoulder.

“You’re doing real good doll-face.” He praised you quietly with his cheek pressed against yours and couldn’t help but smile when you felt him do the same.

“Just keep working hard and I’ll help when you need me to. But right now, try to work them out yourself and I’ll keep giving you sweet little reward kisses!” He said happily.

“Okay Daddy.” You smiled, leaning back against his chest and setting out to work on the next question.

He chuckled softly, pleased with your progress and willingness to please. As you finished each equation, he would whisper sweet words of encouragement followed by little kisses along your neck and shoulders. He even nibbled your earlobe a few times, which you quickly discovered had that strange butterfly effect in your tummy as well.

"Good girl, good girl," he murmured approvingly as your confidence in your work grew. "You're doing great, keep it up."

“Alright, now I’m gonna make you some new ones, they’re gonna be harder alright? Once we get these down, I’ll set up some more difficult ones and then you can try to ones you were assigned for homework. They’ll seem easy after you’ve worked so hard on these other ones!” Anakin explained as he began writing out new equations for you to solve.

He took great care in making sure to double check the answers to ensure he’d be able to properly tutor you.

After getting the first more advanced one finished correctly, Anakin started his plan to give you a new reward.

“Look at you princess, you’re doing so well!” His voice flowing soothingly as he switched from sweet chaste kisses to nibbling and sucking on your neck.

You gasped, in a state of awe at the way he could turn those chaste kisses into something warm and wet and lingering. Those silky soft lips momentarily destroying your ability to think freely.

While you were distracted, he took the opportunity to sweeten the pot. One of his calloused hands defied any pre-conceived notions that one might associate with such an attribute. One might expect a man with hands like Anakin’s; large rough palms, long fingers, overall strong and veiny, to be brutish or rough.

Though it seemed he was naturally the direct opposite. One of those big strong hands slid from it’s resting place to slip beneath the hem of your shirt. Splaying those long fingers across the expanse of your lower abdomen, pressing gently, just enough to properly feel each breath you took from the rise and fall of your tummy.

After a moment of savoring this intimacy Anakin brought that same hand up over the fabric of your shirt once more. A slow ascent to cup your breast, remaining motionless despite the twitch of his finger that exposed his want for more than a simple touch.

After the next correct answer he finally allowed that eager twitch to bloom into small deliberate circles around your nipple. Sparingly brushing his thumb over the hardened nub in order to properly appreciate and enjoy the helpless whimper that escaped your lips each time.

“Next question?” You asked quietly, Anakin only mumbling a ‘yes’ against your skin as he kept up his slow sensual neck and shoulder kisses paired with both of his now hands softly massaging your breasts and nipples. The added squeeze of his palm was almost soothing. As though he aimed to tame the warming embers of desire that lay dormant beneath your skin.

"Atta girl," he praised, his voice low and husky.

"Now, let's try this one." He observed attentively while you struggled to focus on the task at hand.

He chuckled at the way you squirmed every so often and relented, now guiding you through each step while his hands continued their teasing exploration of your body.

"Almost there, I believe in you sweetheart." Somehow his words felt like the rays of afternoon summer sun that shone through the curtains. You imagined that this must be the equivalent to how your cat feels when he bathes in those rays.

“Well babydoll, this is how we’ll do your homework from now on! You’re doing so so good!” He praised you, reluctantly removing his hands from your breasts.

“You deserve alittle brain break okay?” He said, guiding your head to turn with one finger on your jaw.

Before you could speak Anakin slotted his lips against yours. His tongue swiping lightly across your bottom lip, a slight up turn of his mouth when you gasped. He gently, slowly probed your mouth with his tongue; savoring the unique flavor of you.

‘Raspberry tea and honey, yes, that’s it. That’s what she tastes like.’ He decided, locking that information away into the corner of his mind that was reserved for you. Though that corner was becoming much like the chair in the corner of your room that overflowed with clothes. A few more things stacked on top would topple the precarious pile, spilling all things you into every crack and crevice of his conscience.

Meanwhile you were currently short circuiting. The onslaught of completely foreign sensations he’d provided you with was beginning to quite literally fry your brain. You felt warm, mushy, like your brain was goo and your body was clay, ready and willing to be molded to Anakin in whatever new ways he saw fit.

He pulled back, a wide toothy grin taking over when he saw the glaze that had taken over your eyes. Those beautiful eyes, their rich color stolen away by the deep black of your pupil.

“See? You needed that huh?” He cooed, running his thumb down your jaw while we waited patiently for you to collect yourself enough to respond.

“Uh… uh huh.” You nodded slowly, your cheeks flushed and your throat feeling tight as stoked those ember-coals within you, now burning to form a red hot flame.

“Can I try something pretty girl?” He asked in that seductive whisper.

“Oh, ‘course daddy.” You breathed out, of course you’d let him. You’d let him do anything if it meant you could have more of this.

“Thank you baby.” He whispered as he gently rolled the hem of your shirt up, guiding it up and over your head.

You whimpered, the cool air hitting your burning hot flesh making a cold shiver travel up your spine. You swear you heard a little moan coming from Anakin when he finally caught a glimpse of your bare back, and you were positive you heard one when he reached around once more to massage your breasts and toy with your nipples; he was so incredibly grateful to be rid of that pesky fabric barrier, and even more grateful that you never wore a bra at home.

He squeezed and pulled your nipples gently rolling them between his fore finger and thumb. The feeling was good, warm, and tingly; somehow even better than before. Inwardly you wanted to smack him for not taking off your shirt sooner.

A low moan left your lips Anakin reacting with a light chuckle and a sloppy kiss to the under side of your jaw.

“That's it, you're doing great," He praised, his voice dripping with pride; pride at how well you were responding to him.

He was proud of the you he was slowly bringing to the surface. Teasing the little minx that hid behind your innocence, he knew it was waiting for him. Ready for him to capture and keep it, to train it to feed from his palm.

"Now, let's try this one." He suggested, showing you another equation.

Now his fingers trailed slowly down your stomach towards the top of your shorts. He paused just above them, to follow the curve of the elastic cotton waistband with featherlight fingertips.

"This one might be a bit trickier, but remember, I believe in you." He cooed.

“Okay daddy.” You nodded, breathing heavier. “If you think I can do it.”

“I do princess.” *He reassured you.

Anakin's touch became increasingly bold, his fingers making their way to your inner thighs. Leaving tingling sensation to form between your legs, you jolted for a moment, that single flame of desire growing, burning hotter and hotter.

“Lift up sweetheart.” He whispered.

“M’kay.” You squeaked, your voice feeling small.

He gently removed your shorts, a satisfied hum rumbled in his chest when you sat back down and his hand returned to its rightful place between your thighs.

His teasing touch, the torturously gentle tracing of the edges of your panties making your wetness seep through the thin material of your underwear. He continued to stimulate your nipples, and switched to the opposite side of your neck, while he changed tactics on your lower half. Two fingers pressing lightly against that dampened cotton, massaging slowly, making you squirm slightly in response.

“Oh no, is that uncomfy?” He asked gently, concern in his tone.

“Yes,” You whimpered. “all tingly.”

“It won’t be for long alright princess? Daddy’s right here to help.” He promised, his lips against your ear lobe.

“But-“ You started, wanting to complain. Wanting to ask for more; more of what? Good question and only Anakin had that answer.

He tsks, shaking his head slightly. “Finish this one up sweetheart.”

You whined in response and huffed at not getting your way. But followed instructions regardless because Anakin was always right, he was always here to help, always here to guide you, and always gave in to your wants eventually. He couldn’t stand to tell you no, he just couldn’t do it. It was like it physically pained him to see your bottom lip in a pout.

He signed and applied alittle more pressure to encourage you to get back to your work.

A few agonizing minutes later he confirmed your answer was correct, resulting in your excited and eager reaction. You turned slightly to look back at Anakin expectantly,

He grinned, rolling his eyes. He knew exactly what you were doing, you were waiting for him to deal the next card in your new game.

"Perfect job darlin’ you got it on the first try!” He praised, nuzzling into your hair to smell the warm vanilla scent of it.

He tapped your thigh and you instinctively lifted your legs up. He cooed, soothing words while slipping your panties off and lifting you into his lap. Your wet pussy pressed against the large bulge in his pants, those two fingers slipping past your pussy lips. He coated his digits in your slick, dragging them back and forth, up and down your slit.

“Is that right? Did I do that one? I feel like it’s n-not right.” You asked him for help, and when he confirmed it was correct he dipped the very tip of his middle finger in between your soaking wet folds.

“That's right, baby girl." His voice was low and husky, though alittle richer, perhaps it could be described better as darker.

"Now let's try this one together." With a slow motion, he inserted his middle finger into you fully. As you struggled with keeping your sanity, trying to hold a pencil, and trying not to cry from the overwhelming urge for more, Anakin was merely breathing heavily. Occasionally grunting as your cunt fluttered around his finger, his cock throbbing against you.

"How does that feel?" He asked, his tone dripping with satisfaction at watching you squirm and writhe under his touch.

“I- I like it daddy. It feels good.” You whined, feeling him add a second finger and stretching you a bit. It burned, but in a good way.

“That’s right baby.” Anakin nodded. “It’s supposed to feel good, and I’ll make it even better after we get alllll this silly homework done okay?”

Anakin said as you bucked lightly against his palm, chuckling when he heard a low moan escape your lips as he curled his fingers and pushed them in slowly, dragging them back out even slower. The snail’s pace was tolerable, a thousand times more satisfactory compared to his mean and teasing touches before, though they still continually added to that growing fire pit of yours.

“That's it, baby girl." He praised, adding another finger to stretch you even more.

“Daddy.” You hissed, sucking air through your teeth.

“I know darlin’ it’s okay.” He soothed. “Just sit real still.”

You sniffled, accidentally wiggling a bit too much. “S’hurting daddy.”

He began to thrust his three long digits slowly in and out of you, his hips rocking rhythmically in time with his hands movements.

“Shhh. My little princess." Anakin's voice was filled with sympathy, his fingers moving slower inside you. His thumb starting to rub circles on your sensitive nub. “Daddy’s here, just trust me.”

Your furrowed eyebrows slowly turned into an upward swoop, your anxious lip biting coming to a halt as your jaw dropped open in a silent moan.

“That’s better isn’t it doll?” Anakin asked, a low hum reverberating from him after you responded with a rapid head nod and an experimental roll of your hips.

“Much better.” You breathed out a sigh of relief, his fingers starting up that slow pace again. His thumb flicking back and forth across your puffy little clit.

“This calculus is real hard huh?” He said.

“Yeah it is.” You mumbled, meaning to sound angry, but it really just sounded like a plea.

“Gimme your hand babydoll.” He softly commands.

You let him take your hand and guide it behind you, helping you wrap your delicate fingers around the rock hard bulge in his pants.

“Daddy…” You moaned as your body responded to the feel of his cock in your hand.

“Do you know what a cock is? What it looks like? What it’s for?” He asked slowly and you giggled, nodding in response to his questions.

“Have you ever touched one?” You vehemently said no absolutely not.

“Well daddy is gonna pull out his cock, and help you settle down on it alright? We’ll go real slow and gentle; you tell me immediately if you want me to stop okay?” He explained while softly gliding his hand through your hair, while continuing his slow exploration of the warm, gummy walls of your cunt.

“Can I see?” You asked timidly.

“Of course doll. You can touch it too if you want.” He said softly, removing his fingers from your tight hole.

He took a minute to admire the creamy slick gathered on his digits before offering you one of his fingers.

“Do you wanna know what you taste like?” His voice dark and almost sinister.

You didn’t answer, just parted your lips and let the tip of your tongue hang out. He smirked and slipped his index finger past your lips and rubbed it on your tongue. Your nose scrunched up for a moment, the taste unfamiliar and strange, but it was easy to get used to.

He chuckled, removing it so that he could properly clean each finger with his lips and tongue. Sucking each digit thoroughly, moaning with his eyes fluttering closed at the first taste.

“So sweet.” He whispered.

“Hop up and turn around for me sweetheart.” He said, pinching your ass cheek playfully, just hard enough to make you yelp.

You did as requested and settled back on his thighs. His face was just as red as yours felt. His pupils dilated beyond belief, his bare chest had a thin sheen of sweat. His plump bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he finally got a good look at you.

He had wanted to wait. To wait until he couldn’t stand it any longer. The teasing was for him just as much as it was for you. The reward of such a long and torturous game was well and wholly worth it. To finally see you like this. Flushed and wanton, needy for his cock.

Those tits. God those fucking tits… he moaned cupping them in his hands again. They were beautiful when he could see them from behind you, looking down at them from over your shoulder. But up close and in his face? Stunning. Absolutely breathtakingly stunning.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He whispered, entranced temporarily before he snapped out of it and realized this was not one of his sick and twisted dreams.

Oh and how he had dreamed. Night after night, waking up and having to palm his cock roughly just to get enough relief to go back to sleep, only to wake up the next morning and spend half his time in the shower fucking his fist and desperately wishing it were your tight little cunt.

This was real. He had you, completely naked, drooling and sopping wet, putty in his hands.

“Daddy is gonna make you feel so so good after your homework is done.” He smiled, dreamy and spaced out.

“Pull out my cock baby.” He encouraged, taking your wrists in each hand and helping you pull his pants and boxers down his thighs.

Anakin's cock sprang free from his pants, standing erect and proud before your wide eyes. It was thick and veiny, slightly curved upward towards his belly button.

“Ani…” You whimpered worried about what to do, how to properly do this, if you should do this. You wanted to, needed to. But should you?

“What’re you thinking doll?” Anakin asked, his hands on either side of you running his knuckles up and down your tummy soothingly.

“Am I gonna get in trouble?” You whispered.

“What?” He asked, in confusion. “Why would you get in trouble sweetheart?”

“Well, ‘cause of this…” You mumbled.

“Babydoll.” He cooed, his thumb and forefinger pinching your chin and tilting your head back so he could look directly in your eyes. “You won’t be in trouble. I’m your stepfather right?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded.

“So that means I get to help make the rules around here doesn’t it?” He said soothingly, cupping your cheek.

“Yeah.” You nodded, a small smile beginning to form on your lips. You were beginning to see his reasoning and justification clearly.

“So it would be silly for you to get in trouble for something I said was okay wouldn’t it?” He smiled softly.

You giggled, nodding. Happy that he answered your question, amazed as always that he was so easily able to wash away your worries and concerns.

“There’s my little princess.” He cooed, rubbing his nose against yours. “Are you ready now?”

“Yes Ani.” You nodded with a smile, kneeling over his dick.

His large hand grabbing the base, holding his visibly throbbing cock steady as he slowly pushed the head against your tight entrance.

"Just relax, baby doll," He whispered in your ear, his other hand gripping your waist tightly to help guide you down his length. "Just breathe in and out slowly."

Your eyebrows furrowed as you put your arms around his neck and took comfort in the way he took control and made you feel safe even when you were so vulnerable in his arms. You were trusting him with a lot right now, the most intimate and sacred side of yourself.

“Anakin… oh gods.” You gasped in pain as he pushed in farther. He rolled his hips gently, popping your hymen, groaning when he felt that precious little thing snap.

“Shhh it’s okay, I won’t move anymore for now.” He held your hips firmly in place, allowing you to bury your face in his neck in an attempt to steady your breath as he did the same.

Your pussy involuntarily clenched around his cock as he shifted, making you wince in dull pain and Anakin grunt in pleasure at the constricting tightness.

"That's a good girl," He praised, his voice hoarse as he forced himself to maintain control. "You're doing great, just relax."

His hands moved down from your hips to squeeze and support your ass cheeks. Leaning in for a kiss, letting out a questioning hum as he ever so slowly started lowering you again. You nodded, letting him know it was okay despite the prickly sensation of tears forming in your eyes.

You focused on his tongue, on his hands, on the racing of his heart beneath your palm.

"Let me know if you need me stop, okay?" He broke the kiss to lovingly ask. “I don’t want to hurt you sweetheart.”

“I will Ani.” You promised, nodded vigorously as he slowly, steadily impaled you on his cock.

“Jesus.” Anakin whined, breathy and strained as he finally bottomed out. Buried to the hilt, feeling comforted in know that you would soon adjust to his size, and he wouldn’t be hurting your poor little weeping pussy anymore.

He hated to see you in pain, and knowing he was the cause was really, really killing him. It was inevitable of course. You were gonna end up speared on his dick sooner or later, and while he was thrilled that it was sooner, he just wishes he could’ve found a way to make it alittle easier on you.

“Be real still, just relax, get used to the feeling doll.” He cooed, soothing hands running up and down your spine.

“Yes Ani.” You whined, thankful for the chance to adjust to feeling so… full.

"Now, let's finish these final problems together, okay?" He said, his voice huskier than usual as he picked up the paper with the remaining equations. “Get your mind off the hurt okay?”

You held the notebook and kept working on one of the equations while Anakin latched on to your nipples and bit down gently.

“Ah!” You yelped, wincing as his bite made you jolt, your cunt squeezing his cock. “Anakin!”

He chuckled kissing your neck and massaging your ass cheeks. “Sorry baby.”

"You know, you're doing really well," he said, his voice full of satisfaction. "I'm impressed with how quickly you've learned it all. This is definitely going to be the way I help you study from now on." Anakin smiled, kissing you softly.

“Almost done.” You whined, scribbling frantically on the page. Trying your best to sit still.

“Baby.” Anakin growled. “Stop wiggling unless you want me to start training you to hold this big fucking cock in your tight little cunt all damn day.”

“Sorry daddy! Didn’t mean too!” You sniffled. “just feels so full, I need to move.” You whimpered, biting your lip.

You were getting impatient with waiting and sick of this stupid math homework and really, really, really impatient for Anakin to help you fuck yourself on his cock.

"Alright, alright." He chuckled, slowly lifting you a little before thrusting up in again.

You sat there, spread out wide on your step daddy’s massive cock. His callous fingers rubbing tight circles on your poor little clit as he fucked you so, so slowly to stop your wriggling and squirming.

“You’re a real good teacher Ani.” You moaned, finishing up the last equation and fighting the urge to moan and cum right then and there just from that tiny bit of relief. “All done.”

Anakin's eyes lit up at your words of praise, his cock twitching inside you in response.

"That's my good girl! So smart." He praised, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in with more strength than before.

His hands gripped your ass firmly and lifted you up and down his cock until you got the hang of the movement. Slowly picking up the pace once you started a low string of moans that Anakin’s hungry mouth swallowed up in a kiss.

“Reach down and play with your clit while you bounce on my cock.” He ordered.

“yes daddy.” You squeaked in response, whining in relief as you started circling your neglected clit.

“That's it, baby girl." Anakin groaned, his hips moving faster as you found your rhythm.

"You're so fucking good at this.” He praised, his head falling back on the couch cushion.

As you got more confident in your movements he started to meet you halfway with his own thrusts, his cock hitting your G-spot relentlessly, you could feel your orgasm building up rapidly. Your moans turned into high-pitched whimpers of pleasure, your nails digging into his shoulders that you gripped tightly for balance.

“I knew you’d be good,” He moaned. “your body is made for me, it’s perfect. So fuckin’ perfect.”

“Y-yeah daddy.” You whispered on the verge of orgasm. “M’feeling something.”

“Fuck. Th-that’s right doll, I told you I’d make you feel good didn’t I?” He moaned, his voice dark with possessiveness.

Anakin growled low in his throat, his grip on your asscheeks tightening almost painfully. He bit down hard on your neck, leaving a mark as evidence of your sinful affair.

"You're about to cum. That’s what that feeling is darlin’ don’t fight it, just let go." He panted between erratic thrusts, his breath hot against your throat. “Once I make you cum it means you’re mine and mine only. Do you want that?”

“Yes daddy.” You agreed, slurring your words as your body tensed up. “I wanna be only yours.” You were practically drooling as you came violently around his cock, flooding his lap with your juices.

Anakin groaned loudly, his orgasm hitting him like a freight train. The intensity of the fact that he’d given you your first orgasm, that he’d properly and officially earned your virginity, made him feral. His cock twitched and pulsed inside you, releasing wave after wave of hot seed into your tight channel.

“God damn,” he hissed out. “such a good girl, letting me fuck this pretty little pussy full of my cum.”

You whined at his praise, grinding down on his cock when you felt the strange but good sensation of stickiness coat your walls.

"Fuck, baby doll." He panted heavily, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he rode out his own climax. "God you just made me cum s-so fuckin’ hard.”

He stilled his movements and yours to catch his breath, nuzzling your neck and holding you close as he whispered sweet nothings into your hair. He pulled back after a moment, looking down at your disheveled state, he grinned widely, licking his lips in satisfaction.

“Did I do good?” You asked with a wobbly lip. Feeling overwhelmed by your senses, overstimulated to the point of tears. “did I make you happy and proud daddy?”

“Oh, you did more than just make me happy and proud, baby girl." Anakin's eyes glittered with something dark, something… a little scary as he gazed down at you.

“You’re gonna make me a fine little baby momma too.” He growled, his hand reaching out to trace gentle circles on your stomach. “Aren’t you?”

Part Two (final part)

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate

@burnthecheshirewitch@cherrylooney@star611

@tahliac11 @exquisit3corpse @jeldog @arzua10

@bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay

@aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn

@illiethefairy @bunnylovesani @offthethirlwall

@slutforhayden @ausskywalker @angelsadmired

@slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie

@starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @no1klet @lethargic

@allhailbuckybarnes @shadowhuntyi

@bobtheturmpetman29 @mortalheartache

@fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot

@joshfutturmansrighthand @chaoticantihero

@vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee

@sweetcheesecakesblog@rga11 @luvskywxlker

@angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled

Let me know if you wanna be added/removed from the tag list.

[elenamegan14]

One Piece Imagine: F!Reader giving a Victory Smooch to Monster Trio

Luffy

Luffy did not see himself as a hero. He is a pirate, and he never shares especially food. But boy, the rage he felt when he saw that terrible Marine captain stole the food that you have painstakingly tried to keep - nobody has the right to starve anyone on HIS watch!

So you truly fall for him when he and his crew return with a wagon of fruits, veggies, all the finest delicacies he can offer... and a very beaten up corrupt Marine captain on his feet. The villagers were more than grateful to be freed from that jerk, especially you.

After giving that Marine a well-deserved kick on the nuts before handing him to the ACTUAL authority, you came up to Luffy with a plate of his favorite meat on the bones and told him that he deserved a reward for helping her. He gratefully accepts it... but not before you gave him a gentle peck on his cheek, "My hero." Luffy is annoyed that you are interrupting his meal. Also, he is not a hero, damn it! But he is still grateful for the reward. Meanwhile, Sanji is fuming about the background of why Luffy always gets the good part of the reward.

"Shishishishi! You're welcome! But I want more meat instead of kisses!"

Zoro

You're gonna need a lot of cold showers when Zoro saves you. because the way he saves you is actually hoooooot.

Oceans in Grand Line are stupidly dangerous. Freaky weather and monsters will always come when you least expect it. So it really kind of surprised you when the crew got ambushed by a giant Sea King.

A very vicious, pissed-off Sea King.

Its battle with it can be described as near-death and brutal. The crew had a lot of close calls, but it was when its jaws almost closed on you that Zoro got to work.

A couple of swishes from his blade, followed by an intense "ONI GIRI!" battle cry had turned that Sea King into a seafood fillet fit to feed as Luffy's dinner. It was vicious, it was professional. IT WAS HOT.

When Zoro came to check on you, you had to fan yourself really hard because, WOW. How does that muscle of his work again? And how hard his teeth are? Zoro did not have time to react before your lips descended on him, catcalls and cheers from the crew (and a furious rant from Sanji) accompanied the scene. "My hero~" you purred.

The normally serious Zoro became incredibly flustered, annoyed, and sorta impressed by your reward. He never expected this turn of events, promising you that he will need more than that in the bedroom.

"Oi, OI! Really? Ah, damn it. All in a day's work I guess. Seriously, what was that?"

Sanji

The day you're engaged to the most violent and sexist man is the day Sanji saved you. Your noble parents sold you off to the most notoriously rich man, who is known for his brutish "manly" treatment of women. To them, it was discipline. But to you and the other poor women, he is hell.

Enter Sanji. He has been on the island for a few days and he already heard plenty of horror stories about the future groom of yours. So he did what a pirate should do - crash into the party with the crew and humiliate your father and groom with the knowledge of wine and food.

Your ex-fiance's luck ran out when he slapped you halfway across the room when you tried to stop him from jeopardizing the guests' safety. Gone is the suave Sanji - he only sees a man who DARES to hurt a lady and brags about it - oh, he won't get away with it. One Diable Jambe Concasse later, Sanji left the terrified household and one horribly hurt unconscious fiancee, carrying you in his arms.

When you're already in a safe space, Sanji asks if you're okay... only to be met with a barrage of kisses on his face and a large one of his lips. Never had you felt so grateful, so much in love with Sanji. "My hero! Thank you so, SO, much!"

There was a happy, sheepish grin, lots of "mellorine!" and blood spurts from the nose before Sanji replied joyfully with "You're welcome, milady!" And then he would ask if there is more to come from your reward.

He nearly went to heaven when you slyly said yes.

"HA! You see that?! I am a hero! Yes, I am! Mr. Prince is here to save the ladies's day from danger! Ahaha! I am always here to serve you any time, Y/N-chwaaan!"

Please reply if you would like to suggest more scenarios like this with other characters!

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#399

“Oh man, Fuck!...  Oh sorry you had to hear that call.  Didn’t mean to interrupt you enjoying your brew.  It’s just that my girlfriend makes me so fucking pissed off….  Get this, she knows I work 14 days straight busting my ass on that drilling rig.  I am about to head home for four days of rest.  That’s a 7-hour drive, each way.  So she tells me that her sister and mother are in town staying with us.  My days of relaxing are shot to shit.  And worse yet there’s no way I’m getting her pussy.  I probably won’t even get head.  Ain’t that shit?...

“Oh sorry.  I forget that I’m not with a dozen or so other roughnecks out in the field.  All they talk about is pussy.  Most of them don’t have a girlfriend, let alone a wife.  Hearing them go on and on about fucking and getting a blow job, I forget that other people might talk about something else.

“My god, I just wanted to get home and kick back with a beer and get some head.  You know the kind of blowjob that goes on for an hour and it relaxes your entire body.  That doesn’t even include blowing your wad.  You know what I’m talking about?

“Oh there I go again.  Sorry if I’m telling too much....  I do that when I start drinking.   Do you care if I talk about getting blown?...  Good.  Thought so.  What man doesn’t want head at the end of weeks of working damned hard? 

“…Here’s to blowjobs!  Cheers! 

“Hey Frank! Get my friend here another beer….  Nah!  Put your money away.  I got this. 

“So your car broke down?...  We are one of two taverns for twenty miles.  The other is by the interstate one mile away.  At this time of day it’s quite deserted.  We typically only get locals in here.  That is, unless you are having work done at Mike Larson’s garage.  There’s not that much out here, just the garage, Frank’s tavern, the lodge, and the oilfield’s main office over there across the creek.  Was I right?  Is it your car?

“…That was not a happy nod.  So, you’re here for tonight… Oh wait, the garage is closed for the weekend.  You are here until Monday?  …Again, that nod tells me everything.  Well to make matters worse, there are no available women for at least 50 or 60 miles.  This is what this hellhole has to offer. 

“I don’t know about you but it looks like it’s going to be an evening of pounding the pud.  And when I get done, I’ll use my other hand to make it feel like I’m getting a handjob from someone else.

“Goddamn my girlfriend fucked this all up.  I only had this weekend off, before I have to report back here to start filling in for a bud on Wednesday.  She thought that I would want to spend time with her fucking family.  Sometimes I wonder why I’m still with her.

“You have a wife or girlfriend?... 

“…Huh!  Well, sometimes I wish I was like you, single.  But sometimes I really need to get my balls drained.  She gives great head though.  She’s the only girlfriend I had who can take my head in her throat.  I have a big schlong, and every woman I dated complained about its size.  It takes her a long time to throat me.  Most of the time I get frustrated, and I wind up grabbing her head and fucking her mouth.  Eventually it ends in her throat.  She has never taken me down to the root.

“But I really have to be buzzed to get into skull fucking the bitch.  The part she really hates is me dick slapping her.  As I said, I have a gigantic dick.  Smacking her upside her head with my cock usually throws her off balance.  So does a face slap with my hand. 

“When I get in the zone, I am all kinds of aggressive.  I am only after one thing, to bust my nut.  If that means roughing up the bitch, then she’s going to get roughed up.  If I’m drunk enough, I’ll not only fuck her cunt, but she’ll take me in her ass.

“Right now, if she were here, I would be fucking her in every position in every hole.  I wouldn’t care if she was enjoying it.  I’m so fucking horny.  I would use any woman right now.  I can’t have a weekend of jerking off.  Hell, if there was a faggot, I would use him the same way. 

“And it’s a good thing that I have a faggot sitting not ten feet away from me, paying attention to every word I say, licking his lips every time I mention blowjobs, and responding with awkward silence when I asked if he had a bitch back home.  No straight man acts this way.

“I would ask you if you are a cock sucking faggot, but we both know the answer.  Don’t we?  So this is what is going to happen.  I’m going to walk over there, to the men’s toilet.  You want my fat hog in your faggot throat, you follow me in.  Don’t say a word.  Get on your faggot knees and open your faggot mouth. 

“I’ll give you until I drain my piss.  If you don’t come in at that time, then you better be out of here and hide in your room at the lodge.

“I really got to piss, so you don’t have much time….

“…Well fuck.  I would have thought you would have taken some time to think about it.  But OK.

“I really have to piss.  While I do that get in the stall and on your knees.  Be ready for me.  I swear, the beers just pour right through me.  Oh, this feels good—

“What the fuck?  I’m not done pissing….  Oh?  So, you are one of those kinds of faggots.  Nasty piss drinking faggot!  Oh fuck, your mouth feels good.  You are definitely getting a reaction out of my hog.  That’s it for my piss for now.

“Faggot, see how big it is?  You think you can take it?

“Jesus fuck!  Right to the root with no problem!  Holy shit.  You faggots know what you are doing.  Oh man.  This is… fuck!  Oh my god! 

“Bob up and down.  Go head-to-root-to-head-to-root.  Fuck!  This is the blowjob I have been looking for all my life.  Lucky me I found me a faggot with car problems.

“Pull off.  I said, ‘Pull off!’  Look up at me.  Hold still…. 

“…What?  Nothing?  I just gave you one of the hardest bitch slaps I have ever given and you just take it….  Wait, what did you just say?  Did you just thank me… for bitch slapping you?

“Get up.  Get your faggot-ty ass up.  Let’s go.  Move!

“We are going to my room at the lodge.  You are going to spend your night with me. 

“Pay Frank your tab and leave a good tip.  Meet me outside…  A fifty?  You know what a good tip is, that or you didn’t care to wait for him to give you change.

“OK faggot.  I have never used a fag before.  But damn, that one minute in the toilet told me I have been missing out. 

“Over here.  I’m the last room.  The lodge is free for us roughnecks.  The company pays for our housing.  My room is at the end.  It’s a glorified motel room.  I have tons of beer.  You won’t get any, at least not without it going through me first.  Never did that before, but fuck I liked it.

“I plan on being here for four days.  You are going to spend your time with me and my cock down your throat.  You probably take it up your ass.  I will definitely try that out.

“Now listen up.  I have no interest in you or your dick.  I ain’t sucking you or getting fucked by you.  You try anything like that, and I will beat the shit out of you.  Understand me?...  Understand me faggot?

“And keep up the ‘Yes Sir!’  I like the sound of that.  Here we are.  Faggot this is all new for me.  But I will tell you this, I am liking what has been done so far.  I’m so ready to do this.  My cock has not lost it’s hard on.  I may never go back.  Faggot get inside and strip!”

[fandomsandfeminism]

Jordan Reverses Himself and Will Push for a Third Speaker Vote

Here is the recap-

Republicans, continuing their tradition of playing stupid games and being shocked when they win stupid prizes, kicked Kevin McCarthy out of his post of Speaker of the House.

For context, Kevin McCarthy had a fucking awful time getting the job back in January, needing like 15 tries and a bunch of stupid placating and bootlicking the MAGA nuts. An incredible moment in US history. So many memes. Republicans almost getting into fist fights on the floor on the House. Embarrassing Chaos. and they STILL FUCKING KICKED MCCARTHY OUT. AFTER ALL THAT. (Probably because he compromised with Democrats to temporarily fund the government while they argued about the budget) Embarrassing.

They fire McCarthy with no backup plan. To be clear, this is intentional. The MAGA fuckers want to break the government. Also no one wants to be Speaker. It's an awful job.

Ok, so then they have to decide who will be the new speaker. Trump suggests Jim Jordan. There is a secret republican ballot. Jordan loses to some other guy (Scalise.) Ha.

Once it's time for the real vote (with the democrats and all)- unity shatters and Scalise can't carry the vote. He says he doesn't want it anymore.

So fine, Jim Jordan. Let's go.

He loses.

A bunch of Republicans hate him. He is suuuuper implicated in Jan 6 and is a scumbag.

He tries again.

He loses. Again. Worse than the first time. Hilarious. Humiliating.

Everyone is like "not this shit again. Can we just let the temporary speaker be the speaker until January so the House can like...function while the Republicans figure their shit out?"

Jim Jordan says he'll go along with this plan on TV. Because publically losing the Speaker vote multiple times is humiliating.

The MAGAs loose their FUCKING MINDS because this was a Democrat idea so its BAD. How DARE YOU WE JUST FIRED MCARTHY FOR COMPROMISING WITH THE DEMS.

Jim Jordan says FINE, I take it back. I'll try again.

We don't have a third vote scheduled.

It'd be funnier if the clowns weren't running OUR circus, ya know?

[yuutaok]

₊˚⊹♡ Puppy! Yuuta has been rotting the brain for sometime ♡

Yuuta is so sweet and excitable. He’s such a good boy, always listening to your commands and rarely ever misbehaves. Yuuta’s is your best boy. He’s always there to keep you company when you’re in a mood. Yuuta is kind and comforting, you never know what you’d do without him. He’s your world.

₊˚⊹♡ Content Warning: 18+, MDNI (minors do not interact), afab! reader (genitalia described), Yuuta is your dog boy, possessiveness, knotting, creampies, slightly dubcon, idk man this is incredibly self-indulgent

Yuuta is a reliable pup, the protective type. He’s the kind to be wary about strangers and is always ready to step in between you and others he doesn’t know. He keeps you safe, always making sure to keep a keen eye on your surroundings when you’re out. Yuuta bares his teeth only when he needs to.

Of course, Yuuta’s a very good boy, but god, is he a mess once his hormones kick in. He can’t bear to have any one else’s scent even around you. It drives him nuts. If he even notices the slightest bit of someone else’s scent he can’t help but latch onto you, like a dog starved.

You knew it would be difficult when his rut began, you did your homework on how to take care of him properly, you swear! But you didn’t think it would be this treacherous.

You didn’t think to expect Yuuta to drag you into his lap, holding you close as he rubs against your face and neck. He nuzzles close to you, arms wrapping around you tightly as he marks you, laying his claim. His tongue slips out to lick all the areas that don’t smell like him, fangs scraping along your neck as he breathes in.

Your heart skips a beat with all of his affections.

“Yuu— Yuuta, cut it out,” You gasp, “Let me run a cold bath for you and get you cleaned up.” You gently try to push your puppy off of you, slowly making your way out of his lap.

“No,” Yuuta growls as he pushes himself further into you, digging his nails into the skin of your shoulders. He holds you tight, making sure to lock his arms to keep you from escaping. It hurt, you didn’t know what to do.

You flush underneath him, heart fluttering and beating right out of your chest.

“You’re mine. You’ve always been mine,” he snarls.

You’ve never had him snap at you like this. You feel goosebumps form on your skin and your hair stand up on the back of your neck.

His canines brush against your skin as he grinds his hips into yours. His clothed erection rutting into your soaked panties as he bites at your jaw, sucking hickeys and love marks into your soft, unmarred skin.

“I’m not going to let you go,” he insists.

Your cheeks feel hot as you sigh at the contact, hips involuntarily grinding back down onto his dick. It’s been a minute since you’ve had this kind of touch and affection, with life being so unexpectedly complicated.

You revel in it, savor it, even.

Yuuta wraps his strong arms around you, holding you close and pulling you down deeper and further into him. You gasp when he moves to give you a kiss, his lips moving against yours as you feel his canines scrape and bite at your bottom lip. You taste iron as he laps at your mouth, panting hot breaths as you feel yourself melt into him.

It’s hard to deny him what he so desperately wants. He’s your boy, isn’t he?

Yuuta’s hands slide down your body, groping and allowing himself to savor every touch he can manage. His grasp is urgent, rough, and desperate. He slides his hands up to your breasts as he starts to rub against your pussy, panting hot breaths against your neck as he tries to relieve the heat in his pants. You feel yourself become wetter as you two rut against each other.

“Please… Please, c-can I have you? Can you take care of me?” He whines hoarsely, desperately seeking any sort of friction to fill the ache in his gut. His blue eyes become dewy and wet with what you think are tears.

You bite your lip, feeling so sorry for your pup.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll take care of you, Yuu. I’ll make it better.”

Yuuta breathes out a sigh of relief as you move to pull him off the couch back to your bedroom. You sit him down on the bed and he urgently grasps at you to paw at your clothes. You help him strip you bare as he kicks off his sweats and shirt. Your hand reaches behind his neck, pulling him by his dog collar as you move to give him a kiss. You feel Yuuta melt into you.

The two of you become an entangled mess of wandering hands and sloppy kisses. Yuuta felt so familiar in your arms, though new in this particular experience.

You found yourself situated between his bare legs as he laid back on your bed. You snuck a hand down in between the two of you to stroke at his weeping cock, his tip leaking beads precum down to the hilt. You thumb at the head of his member as you watch him cry out and hump himself into your hand.

You hum gently, “Are you my good boy? Are you gonna be good for me?”

“Yes! Yes I’ll be so good for you. I’ll do anything,” Yuuta says through flushed cheeks and teary eyes, sensitive and overwhelmed from your teasing. You continue as he snaps his hips forward into your hand, desperate for relief of any kind.

“There he is. That’s my puppy. My Yuuta,” you smile, “Yuu… Can you tell me what you need?

He cries out, “I want it… inside..! I need to put it inside… It hurts.” Yuuta looks up at you, pleading. You glance down at his cock, it was flushed red and looked almost painful. Sitting at the hilt was his thick knot that you weren’t so sure would go down so easily. But, you’d do anything, if it was for Yuuta.

“Okay,” you breathe out.

You move to settle yourself onto him, hand balancing on his chest. Your other hand snaking down to spread yourself. Your fingers slick feeling how wet you were between your folds. Your breath hitches as you slowly try to move yourself onto his tip, gently sinking down his length.

Yuuta settles his hands on your sides, digging his nails into your thighs as he feels your walls begin to hug his dick. He growls, deep in his chest, at how slowly you’re making your way down. You watch as he bites his lower lip.

Yuuta can’t help but buck further into your messy cunt, hands and nails pulling you down so you’d sink further onto him. You think he breaks skin.

“A-ah… Yuu… Not so much…” you breathed out, “I need a moment—“ but oh, now you were being flipped over.

Yuuta bares his canines as he towers over you, pushing himself deeper into you, thick cock splitting your tight core open. Your eyes widen as you look up at your pup.

Yuuta’s eyes look deeply apologetic into yours as he pushes into you, “‘m sorry, ah, sorry sorry, you just feel so good. I need more, I want more,” he chokes as he fits himself snuggly between your legs.

You moan out weakly, air leaving your lungs and seeing stars behind your eyes as he opened and filled you up. Your hands grasp and claw at his shoulders as you take him in, gritting your teeth as he pushes himself to the very hilt.

Yuuta looks down and marvels at your cunt filled to the brim with him. His ears perk up and you feel his tail wag as your walls settle to his length. Your puppy can’t help but lean down to kiss and lick at your lips, grinding his dick into your pussy and beginning to slowly slide in and out of you.

You moan, overwhelmed with all the stimulation. You feel so stretched, open, and full of Yuuta. Your nails dig into his broad of his shoulders as he begins a more vigorous pace, Yuuta panting out, “Mm— feels good— your pussy feels so good, can’t wait—“.

You whine and throw your head back, bringing an arm to shyly cover your face as Yuuta continues to pound into you. Your puppy grabs your arm and pins it back down onto the bed, “No! Want to see your face… Wanna see you cum,” he growls. He uses his other arm to pin your leg up over his shoulder, forcing himself even deeper into your cunt, hitting that special spot that makes sparks fly behind your eyes.

“Yuuta, Yuuta, Yuuta,” you chant as you feel yourself getting closer and closer while Yuuta fucks into your dripping pussy. He whispers your name, moaning as he watches you writhe underneath him. Everything felt so lewd, from the way he had you open, to the wet noises that were coming from your intimacy, it was all so obscene.

You feel the heat build up in your core, your walls clenching and clenching as you get closer to cumming. You whimper out, bouncing yourself back onto Yuuta to try and get more friction, “ ‘m close puppy, so close, gonna cum..!” You cry out, toes curling into the soaked sheets.

Yuuta takes your cries as the sign to rut deeper and faster into you, coaxing your orgasm. You sob as you feel your insides tighten around his cock, vision blurring as you soak his length.

Yuuta bites his lip at the sight of you, looking down at you lovingly as you tighten around him. You look at him with dewy eyes and the most fucked out expression. You see him smile.

“So cute…! You’re so cute, wanna cum in you, wanna fill you up, wanna give you my knot..!” Your puppy pants as he grinds into your messy hole, tightening his grip on your plush skin.

You feel your muscles relax, overstimulated, as Yuuta uses your pussy to relieve himself. You weakly whimper, “Cum in me puppy, I can take it. Please…”

He nods as his pace becomes more erratic, his claws digging further and further into your thighs as he reaches his climax. “‘M cumming! ‘M cumming—“ Yuuta moans and you feel him push himself deeper and deeper into you, until ‘pop!’, you feel the round hilt of his knot settle into your cunt and his dick twitch, letting out hot ropes of his seed. You moan softly as you feel his cum gush out of your hole, too fucked out to really care.

Your puppy sighs and lays down protectively on top of you, knot still connected as he snuggles into your neck, and peppering you with licks and kisses as you move your hand to pet his the soft black locks on his head.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Yuuta dreamily mutters as he inhales your scent mixed in with his, finally content.

“Good boy,” you whisper softly, “I told you I was gonna take care of you.”

[keen-li]

COOKIES

A/n: just a little quickie

Military au

....

I brought you some of your favourite cookies I made" you smile warmly at the man in uniform infront of you. You stretch out the little bag showing him how much effort you put into bagging the goods.

And as he opens the contents of the bag, he admires the effort you also put into making it. You didn't have to, he told you this before, but you did and he appreciates it still . He knows it's one of your ways of showing him you care and love him. Plus you wouldn't listen even if he told you.

Back home you and him always made these little cookies with weired faces on them. "The weirder the face the sweeter they are" you'd say smiling like a child as you drew onto a cookie.

He'd just stare at you and admire the energy you put into it.

"I think that's very true considering how sweet you are" he says wrapping his arms around you to trap you from moving. When what he said registers you gasp

"Hey!!!" You yell and try to move in his grip but fail. He finds it amusing, cause you can't do anything and he has you trapped, that's why he did it so he can hear you whine and complain.

"Are you saying I have a weird face?" You whine energy wearing out. Jungkook let's out a chuckle and your face scrunches up in faux anger.

"Not really..." he starts "but sometimes" he moves he's head around as if pondering on times when he thought your face was weird.  Of course he doesn't think your face is weird, he loves your face; loves to place many tiny kisses on it and loves watching your expressions change according to what your thinking. You also know that he doesn't think your face is weird, you just play along cause you know that's how you tease each other.

You elbow hum lightly and his wall falters and you're set free. You immediately turn to start placing tiny (unharmful) slaps on his chest.

"Sometimes when huh?" You egg on and you continue to slap his chest, his very hard chest that's not affected by your weak blows.

"Like now" He says through your hits and at his words you throw a heavier slap that echos in your quiet shared apartment.

You pause fearing you've crossed a boundary. Yes he's your boyfriend and you've been together a while but  you're still kind of afraid of crossing boundaries,  especially the ones you are unaware of. Jungkook notices the little pout on your face and knows what you're thinking,  he doesn't know how many times he's going to tell that there's no blow that you can hit him with that's gonna hurt him, unless you kick him in the nuts.

"Hey that's all you've got?" He acts mockingly trying to lighten the mood, and with the scoff you let out he knows you know that he doesn't mind.

"I outta take you to the gym, your punches are kinda disappointing" you chuckle at him as you turn back to your cookies.

"i don't need the gym, I walk enough stairs and carry enough files at work" your wrist rolls as you draw your weird faces.

"And how do those things help with you learning to throw a good punch" he wraps his arms around your waist and closes the space between. Your stomach does a little flip as you feel his closeness, it feels like the first time everytime he does that. You hope he never stops.

"I don't need to learn to throw a punch..." you bend a little to get the right angle for the face you're making and as you do you brush against jungkook and he can't help but groan.

"...I have you" he can hear the smile and confidence in your voice. He's happy that you find confidence and safety in him, but he's not always gonna be around and those moments make him sick. Sometimes he wishes he could become a diety so that he can watch over you and protect you, but its not a fairytale and he knows he can't always be around. He always tries to make you understand that but you always take it as a joke. He doesn't know this but you do understand him and where he's coming from but you're just avoiding the reality of things.

"I won't always be around" his voice softens as he breath brushes past your neck and his head is quite heavy on your shoulder.

"Oh yeah? And where are you gonna go?" You say wanting to bring up the topic you've both been avoiding but needs to be had.

"The military?" You finish for him knowing he's not gonna say it.  You chuckle at the little sigh he lets out.

Your bodies disconnect and you regret bringing it up,the cold of the apartment finally getting to you. You know he isn't mad, its just hard to have serious conversations when your ass keeps brushing past his growing hard-on.

 He goes to stand on the opposite side of the island sighing as if ready to have the conversation. Your demeanour becomes a little more serious and your face falls as you hope you don't cry. You're the one who brought it up anyways,  but it's good, you need to face this.

"Do you think you'll be okay" his soft voice airs out.

You sigh and hope your tears don't fall and salten the cookies. You don't have an answer for him, you've never had the answer to that question. You can only hope.

"I hope I'll be okay" your voice fades out quite early at the end.

Jungkook knows its gonna be hard for the both of you. Sometimes he wishes he'd met you after he'd already served but that's not possible. He's glad he met you before though, gives him a reason to complete the service, come back home and now actually start life with you; like proposing. He wanted to propose to you before he left but he's mother told him he should do it after and he agrees. Proposing to you before he leaves feels like he's tying you to him and making and forcing you wait for him. He doesn't want to make you feel obligated to wait for him.

"You can move on you know" you roll your eyes once you hear him, you hated when he said stupid things and he often did when he got sentimental.

"Jungkook please" you chuckle "move on?"

You lift your eyes and they meet his doe ones, he should really hear how silly he sounds.

"Yeah, I don't want to make you feel tied to me. You you can move on find some dude who's already done his service and start the life you want" even though it leaves a burning bitter taste on his tongue and heart, he says it anyways. He doesn't even mean a single word, if he could he'd take you with him or he wouldn't even go.

You don't even react to him, knowing he's just spewing nonsense.

"And you'd be okay with that me starting a life with someone else?"

No.  Of course not. He'd rip the dude's head off once he found him.

"If it's what you want" you can hear the lies through his tone and demeanour.  You know jungkook wouldn't want that, he hates the idea and you know it would kill him cause it kills you too.

"You're acting like you're going away forever" you force a smile, it isn't forever but even a day away from him feels like eternity, what more him being away for months?

You hear him release a chuckle.

"Plus I've given you 4 years of my life, why would I throw that away. Its not like when you leave I'll stop loving you. Yeah I will miss you, yes I will cry but its not gonna hurt so bad that'd I'd want to move on or find someone else"

He listens to you and is happy you feel like that cause he does too, he could honestly just propose to you now but he'll still do it after.

"Babyy" he coos. He stands and walks up to you, immediately turning you around and capturing your cheeks with his palms. It's the first time he's heard how you feel about it, but in all honesty it's the first time you've just talked about it. There's still more to talk about but today's a good start.

"I'm going to miss you soooo much" he places a peck on your lips and you place your hands on his waist.

"I'll think about you everyday, I'll go through everyday knowing I'm a day closer to coming back to you. I'll do this so I can come back to you an we can make all the weird faced cookies of yours"

He kisses you softly again. You just lean into his kiss.

"Promise me something jungkook" your lips are only millimetres from his.

"Yeah baby"

"Don't think about me too much okay" you stroke his sides more to comfort yourself,those tears you've been holding are making their way. Jungkook holds you tighter noticing.

"I can't do that. I don't like lying"

And the flood gates open. This is gonna be harder than you thought.

The smell of the sweet cookies makes jungkook smile and he's already blushed cheek blush more. He pulls one out.

He let's out a laugh.

"Kept the weird faces huh?" he smiles and takes a bite, tastes like comfort and everything's he's been missing.

"Why would I change them. Told you the weirder the sweeter" you speak happiness in your tone cause you've finally gotten to see him. You grab a cookie from the bag and take a bite aswell. After having a couple more he rolls up the bags and packs it.

"I should hide these before someone else wants some" you chuckle at his words. Jungkook isn't the most generous when it comes to the things you make for him and he's not afraid to admit that.

"Not even one?" You mock.

"Nope. They can go tell their girlfriends to do that." He adjusts his uniform that you've been admiring him in. "But most of the guys don't have girlfriends so that's a shame for them" you both laugh.

"How's your friend jimin." You ask suddenly remembering him. Jungkook's surprised you remember him but again how can you forget the person you made you two start dating.

"He's okay. Been kicking his ass in training though" he pats himself on the shoulder with his tone.

"Take it easy on him,"  you try an bargain for jimin.

"There's no time for nursery care here baby" he stretches his hand out for you to take it and you do.

"Want me to show you my room?" He says pulling you towards a building.  He feels your hesitation and turns to you with a lifted brow.

"Am I even allowed there?" You bite your inner cheek.

"Yeah I can get permission if you want though."

You'd prefer he gets permission first you don't need him in trouble. And so you nod which hums to.

You start walk to jungkook's superior's office.

"Did I tell you how strong your hand feels" you say admiring the veins on his hands and the way he holds your hand for dear life.

"Is it?" He squeezes your hand slightly.

"Yep, gonna put them to work when you get back home" you rejoice swinging his arm.

"Is working ever gonna end for me?"  He whines.

"Nope.Never"

[whalesforhands]

Did you u know twins can have different biological fathers?

The specific ask about, if reader was gonna have bio kids got me thinking, what if twins but different fathers?

And then fact checked, and apparently it's very rare, but possible!!!

my theory on this matter is that you have to make love, instead of a quick nut for something like this to happen.

Sorry for ranting, it's 4 in the morning in my side of the world, and all i can think is about Satosugu, ahhhh i need sleep!!!!

GAHAHAH THAT’S SO CUTE

masterlist

gojo satoru & geto suguru getting more kids, and the fact that they’re having another set of twins has the nanamimi duo absolutely losing it, jumping around and squealing

the girls are absolutely defending you fiercely during the time you’re starting to show, shooing off gojo for even breathing too hard near you, gripping onto geto’s shirt and stretching the fabric whilst trying to drag him off of you when he goes in for a hug, holding your hands to walk you to the bedroom, running to tsumiki when you mention a small food craving and trying to figure out how to make it via the internet when their fathers aren’t home yet, because “we’re older and can totally help out!”

megumi is the most intrigued, never having had a sibling younger than him before. so he’s the one putting his head against your tummy the most to really listen to the lives growing inside you, looking up at you with wide eyes every time he hears a kick

since he and the twins are the same age, it’s often wondered if they were triplets everytime the family ate out.

(nanamimi have crowned him an honorary triplet. tsumiki approves. gives more of a reason for him to join them on their tea parties.)

satosugu refuse to let you out the house. initially it was already super hard to leave in the first place for the most menial of chores like getting more lightbulbs or more milk without their chaperoning. now it’s close to impossible even if you just want to get ice cream at the convenience store with tsumiki.

no. don’t go outside. there’s bad air, germs on every surface, curses at every lurking corner. please sit down, look pretty, give them a kiss and what you’re craving will be in your hands in an instant.

you look gorgeous pregnant. period.

now imagine when they pop out of you, only for them to look like actual carbon copies of their fathers, much to everyone’s shock. like, i’m not even kidding.

maybe there’s a small hint of your features in the curve of the nose, the shape of the earlobes… but overall the twins look exactly like their paternal counterparts, down to the exact same personalities and little traits

and that means their clinginess to you. the men already have it bad enough that the 4 kids are constantly hanging around and off of you, following you around the home like hatchlings to a mother duck, now the two extra little copycats are taking every bit of your spare, leftover attention meant for them

crying in the middle of the night and not settling down when either of the men are the ones hushing and cradling them, smacking their chins whenever they try to bottlefeed, crying even more if it’s not your face being the first one they see in the morning…

why are you so adorably popular?

they don’t regret having kids with you, but they do realise how fortunate they were to be able to skip the infant stage with the first 4

KOFI twins extra

masterlist

[bluecollarmcandtf]

"Dude, I'm in your brother-in-law!"

Panic twists your gut as the bizarre scene sinks in! Those unnaturally clouded eyes are the trademark of Jimmy, your long-dead friend, and they're sitting in the skull of Carlos, your sister's fiance! The ghost is up to his usual antics, possessing yet another guy in your life without any regard to you.

"Did you imagine a tight gym rat like this would wear undies like these?" Jimmy chuckles, referring to Carlos' patterned boxers, "I mean how could you be so intimidated by a guy who's got hearts on his crotch?"

The underwear is the least of your worries: the man is supposed to be walking down the aisle in an hour! It may have been a dick move for your sister to get engaged to your high school bully, but that didn't mean you wanted her future husband to be late to the altar!

"Don't even bother asking me to get out of this body, dude!" the deep baritone of Carlos sings with Jimmy's cadence, "The only thing I plan on getting out of is this tux! Training like this needs to be appreciated, and who better to appreciate it than you? I'm sure you'd love to know what your sister is getting tonight..."

"I mean just look at these abs. It's like a rock hard washboard if you want a feel..." Jimmy winks one of his starkly blank eyes at you, "...speaking of being rock hard, it looks like you're enjoying this bonding time with your new brother-in-law. After all, Carlos does need to apologize for all the bullying he did in high school."

With a racing heart, you shush him and beg for Johnny to leave. He needs to return Carlos to normal before anyone notices! The wedding would be over if someone found the groom naked and flirting with the brother of the bride!

"If you're gonna be my new little bro..." Jimmy says with an unsettlingly accurate impression of Carlos' demeanor, "...then I think you should get to know me. Come on and grab my fat, meaty pecs; pinch my nipples; let me know who the real man is around here..."

It's hard to resist. You've only ever caught stolen glances at Carlos. The jerk would always shove you into a locker when he caught you staring in his direction, yet now he was begging for your attention.

"Come on, bro. Grab my athletic little ass and grope my crotch. It's the least I can do after targeting you for all these years."

Before you realize what you're doing, you find yourself rushing towards the shredded latino and pressing yourself against his exposed body, layered with dense musculature. Part of you still expected Carlos to kick you in the nuts and call you a slur, but his lips instead gleefully embrace your own.

"Damn, if I'd known being queer was this good, I woulda married you and not your sister!" he exclaims. You just roll your eyes, knowing Carlos isn't actually saying these things. Jimmy is just puppeteering his mouth for your amusement, "I bet having your dick in my mouth will be better than the tits of any girl! The only way a piece of crap like me can apologize is on my knees..."

You stifle a moan as all 200 lbs of the naked jock drops to his knees with a dopey grin. Carlos' soulless eyes stare at the tent in your pants like it's the most desirable thing in the world. It doesn't take long for him to unbuckle your pants and open his mouth...

...twenty minutes later, you're still catching your breath while Carlos slowly redresses.

"Now you can watch your sister marry this homophobic dirtbag and know that you've shoved your shaft down his throat," Jimmy purrs, enjoying his final moments in Carlos' form, "I'm not going to brush his teeth, so he'll have to taste you throughout the entire wedding."

You giggle at the thought of the guy wondering about the strange flavor in his mouth while reading his vows. Somehow, Carlos doesn't seem as big or intimidating as he once did.

"If it were up to me, I'd commandeer his whole life," Jimmy went on with a sparkle of enthusiasm in Carlos' clouded retinas, "I'd walk him out there in nothing but his heart-patterned undies and announce to his whole family that he's a flaming homosexual. Then I'd like to spend a couple weeks working his body as a stripper at the nearest club, and of course I'd come home to you every night..."

The idea of Carlos coming out to his orthodox family and working as a stripper is an insane one, but it did turn you on. It's too bad your sister's taken a liking towards him, otherwise, you'd tell Jimmy to go crazy with the guy.

"Imagine your old high school bully coming home to you every night, hot and sweaty from dancing all day, with a new skimpy costume for you to explore. Damn, I'd want you to find a new way to degrade me each night while I wore him. It'd be healthy, I think, after all he's put you through."

Jimmy's crazy ideas never cease to amaze you. A little time belittling Carlos sounds hot as hell!

You give Carlos one last kiss and remind your paranormal buddy that he has to leave soon. The stud frowns, looking sad that he won't be possessed by a gay spirit anymore. At least you know that if this man ever screws up, if he ever wrongs your sister, if he ever hurts her; Jimmy is just one seance away from charging back in his body and making this twisted fantasy come true. It's only a matter of time before Carlos screws up his marriage, and then he's yours.

You almost can't wait for your sister's marriage to fall apart, and it hasn't even begun...

[pupgawa]

Ability fun ! 🍯

Why not making sex even more fun by adding in some ability , you know really spice things up ?

pairing (s) : Akutagawa x reader, atsushi x reader, chuuya x reader ( separately )

Tags/cw’s: gender neutral! Reader , reader's gentile is not specified , rough sex ( all of them ) , bondage ( akutagawa ) , degration ( akutagawa) praise ( atsushi, chuuya ) , mating press ( atsushi ) , mentions of breeding ( atsushi )

Bondage is a given when using roshomon during intercourse. He can't help but get hard at the sight of the black cloth warping across your body, squeezing in all the right spots.

If he's not using roshomon to tie your hands behind your back, then he's using it to hold your legs open for him while he fucks you.

Or he's helping you ride him while having your hands tied behind your back.

And sometimes he's standing up, holding you in the air with Roshomon, using the multiple tendrils summoned you're being rocked back into his cock, he thrusts his hips forward just a bit so he can really hit deep inside you.

“ A .. Aku .. ” You moan softly as the black tendrils are holding your thighs open, you can't fight against the pure force of it, all you could do is moan as you took what he gave you.

“ that's it ... cry out for my cock like the dog you are ” He growled out as he slammed his hips deep inside you. Your eyes widened as he hit the bundle of nerves you liked him hitting so much. You let out a loud moan as you tossed your head back.

Akutagawa can't help but grin as he felt your muscles untense under roshomon, completely submitting to him as roshomon gets tighter around your thighs and arms.

“ yeah that's it .. submit , obey your superior, you whore ” he spat as he fucked into you harder and you laid there and took it.

Atsushi is usually very sweet with you, all the time, especially during sex, he wanted to make you feel as safe and comfortable as he possibly could.

So when you brought the idea to let out his more feral side and use his ability a little bit during sex it was completely out of the question at first, he didn't want to hurt you.

But you were persistent, you continued to make small gestures to it, and insisting you'd be okay, you were so cute, how could he deny you any longer. But he set a rule that you'll let him know when you need to stop as soon as you want to stop, which you happily agreed to.

And this turned out a lot better than he expected, he hates to admit it but he likes letting out his carnal desires and going a bit feral more than he likes to admit.

All the time he has you in a mating press, pounding into you, large tiger claws pinning your head to the bed, his tiger legs give his thrusts a bit more of a kick, fangs bared and his tiger ears twitching and his tail whipping from side to side, claws tearing the bed sheets as he gripped them.

Atsushi pounded into you at a rough pace, his thighs slapping against yours as he thrusted downwards at and angle that drove you nuts.

“ fuck .. fuck , fUck ! ~ ” he cursed between his teeth with a small voice crack. You felt so good around his dick that he can't help but speed up, bending you in half as he did, stuck in a mating press.

“ you feel so good .. oh my godddd ” he moaned out as he let out a inhuman snarl. “ are you okay ? Tell me to stop now if you need, because if you don't I won't be able to stop myself- ” you tell him it's okay.

He wasn't lying, Atsushi let out a growl, one of a beast, claws digging into your wrists, positioning himself once more, he stood on his legs, in a squatting position. And before you could register it he was already back inside you.

He set a rough pace, moaning, groaning and growling he was an animal, figuratively and literally. “ m’ gonna cum inside you, and stuff you full of my cubs- ” he begins between each thrusts, your head spun.

“ gonna be a good parent for my kids, a good .. lover .. hngh !! ” he moans out once more as he slammed into you, the thought of you not being able to even get pregnant didn't even cross his mind. He was too caught up in the moment.

“ c ... cumming ! I'm gonna cum ” he moaned out as he stilled himself deep inside you before starting to thrust once again, oh he was far from finished with you

You've gotta hear me out here PLEASEEEE , PLEASEEEE, he can manipulate gravity and shit like just imagine if he could make his thrusts so much faster.

He manipulates gravity to make himself lighter and you as well, so he could thrusts his hips at seemingly inhuman pace,

Okay and like fucking in mid air sounds so silly and that's the appeal of it, like one day you and chuuya are plain drunk and you make a joke about it, and sticks with both you and him.

And like a week later he brings it up and you're like " hell yeah let's do it "

“ you doing okay ? ” Chuuya asks as you nod, “ just a bit light headed, but I'm alright ” you responded, maybe because you were high up in the air of your shared bedroom.

“ that's normal, All you need to do is hold onto me, and I'll keep my ability activated, if it comes to the worst we'll be falling onto the bed so none of us gets hurt here ” Chuuya explains and you nod.

And that's now you came to be, chuuya's cock stuffed you full as he grabbed onto your hips, pulling you back onto his cock with soft grunts and groans, loud moans spilling from your lips.

“ oh yeah that's good .. that's so good ” Chuuya pants out as he huffs, tossing his head back with a loud groan. “ who's good slut are you ? ” he asks as you whimper out a soft ‘ yours ’ Chuuya let's out an airy laugh. “ couldn't quite hear you, love ” you bite back a moan before repeating; “ yours .. ”. “ good , yeah you're my good slut ” he replied.

Even through the heat of the moment you still couldn't help but giggle to each other that you were actually doing this. Chuuya's movements got a little faster as he groans into your neck.

“ you feel s’ fuckin’ good .. s’ fuckin’ warm ” he groans out again as he let out a loud hiss in pleasure, he grips your hips with a great amounts of strength as he groans out loud. Releasing inside of you.

That unfortunately that caused him to turn off his ability, but fortunately for you guys you landed on the bed, looking at each other for a moment before bursting out into a laughing fit.

[vinnoa-articles]

The Wrong Ingredient

[Image by Eiichiro Oda]

Rating: +18, you have been warned. If you are a minor, leave now.

Word count: 3,257

Type: Smut

Characters: reader (AFAB), Sanji, Chopper, Zoro, the Strawhats

Trigger warnings/content: Swearing, rough sex, restraining, cumming without a condom, ass-slapping, very demanding, degrading, insanity, mushrooms/kind of like drug, overstimulation,

“Oog,” the turbulence in his stomach churned like the seas they were riding. There was some uncertainty with how he consumed something so stupidly. There was no way he mixed up the red spotted mushroom over the white spotted mushroom on the counter. There was heat rushing up to his head, to his cock, and the blood pumping in his veins. “Chopper, how long will the effects last?”

“Er…well” There was a pause in the brown fur-ball’s little thought process. “The mushroom that I was going to use to cure people of high desires. Such as money, lust, and others-”

“Get to the point” Sanji finally said, tugging his tie to release some restriction from his body. The heat from his skin felt unbearable. Sweat forming on his brow, his veins pumping red hot, his erection growing more, his chest felt tight, and everything sparkled around him in his eyes. “I need to know doc; I need to know how long this will last and if there is a cure.” 

“Sanji, it will last for a day. Unless I had another mushroom, I could definitely make a cure. But-”

“But what? Spit it out!” The cook was restless now. His mind was beginning to cloud up, and his eyes were scanning around for anyone that could fulfill his needs. “God, Chopper. Please-” He nearly bit his tongue. Salivating like he was an animal. There were needs he needed to be met. His chiseled chest felt like he was going to pop out of his dress shirt, along with his cock that needed to breathe.

“That was the only mushroom I had, Sanji.” The creature looked pitiful. He tried to fiddle his fingers to ease the tension in the room. He could not look Sanji in the eye, those sparkly East Blue eyes now turning into the depths of the sea. Nearly far too gone. “But, it could end quickly if your needs are met! But I think I know what it is,” Chopper stated while sweating. They BOTH knew what it was, but they also knew that was the worst idea. How far would Sanji go was the question. He was a prince that could kick ass, yet twirl around women like a prince. “I think you should stay in one place so the symptoms don’t worsen Sanji-san.” Chopper pointed his cute hoof at the ero-cook, to make sure he was listening. However, Sanji could only comprehend part of what was said, due to the fact the only thing on his mind right now was just pounding into your dripping cunt, over and over; along with cooking dinner.

“I should get cooking though. You know how Luffy can get,” Sanji said as he lit a cigarette. The drag was long and hard, breathing was short and stagnant, his mind trying to clear the image of her in just an apron in the kitchen and- “I need to get cooking!” He jumped up, excited to see if the images in his mind were true.

“Oh, okay. Just letting you know though. Try to avoid Y/N, because at the peak it could make you go nearly nuts,” Chopper tried to explain, but Sanji was already out the door. “Ah, well he must have heard me.”

“Y/N-Swan~” Sanji screamed, bursting into his kitchen to see his dream gal in front of him in just an apron. Except, that was not what was waiting for him. All he saw were the mushrooms on the counter, side-by-side. There was a quick sigh, a puff from his cigarette; slowly unbuttoning his shirt as the heat from his body was becoming too much. “Erm, if I take off my dress shirt, and leave on my outer jacket, that should be alright.” As he slowly took off his coat, he set it down in one harsh slap. His ears perking up as if he just heard the noise of what was similar to what it would sound like if he slapped her plump ass. Alas, that was not the case. Growling as if he was a wolf, he shook his head to try and help clear his mind. Hastily unbuttoning his shirt, he chucked his shirt somewhere to just grab his jacket again. “At least I have something to wear.” As he was hyper focused on the mushrooms, he ran his fingers through his blond strands. “Ah shit, why did he have to study his mushrooms right next to mine?” Feeling his cock pulsating under his tight pants, nearly twisting his hips to make sure to ease some of the discomfort. He palmed his erection, hoping it would calm the small beast, but it only made him imagine her touching him more. “If only- No! Keep focus!” Slapping his face on both sides to wake him up. “I need to finish dinner!” Sighing and rolling up his sleeves, he started his work. Today was a tender steak with a blueberry wine redux on the side. Cracking his slender phalanges, cracking his neck to focus on his job, he was ready.

Or so he thought

Making dinner was harder than he thought. The blueberries were the size of her nipples, sweet like her juices, the steak tender like her ass, and juicy like her-

“Sanji?” Oh god no. Please no. Glancing at the door, he saw her. Of all days to be wearing something sexy, today was not that day. “Let me help you bring some of the dishes to the dining room.” Dammit, I can see her nipples through her pajama tank top. Her thighs look so thick with those shorts. I could bite them- “Sanji?” Without realizing it, picking up the dress shirt, casually turning around and taking off the tank, the bare back exposed, a map he has felt way too often when he held her in his arms; and slipping the dress shirt agonizingly slow, buttoning each and every button. Casually turning around to face him, twirling in his dress shirt. “This is much more comfortable this way. How does it look? Cute, yes?” It took everything Sanji’s power to not grab her, to bend her over on the counter, stuffing her lips with his fingers, and fucking their brains out. It crossed his mind well over a million times within the mere seconds she twirled.

“I-uh…yeah…uh, IfYouCouldGrabThePlatesAndHelpMeThatWouldBeGreatBye” Sanji said in the fastest, tongue-tied, rambling he had ever done as he was carrying majority of the plates on his hands and head. All she could do was stare at what just happened. He used to get flustered, but she thought they were well past that point. Granted, there were more platonic moments of hugs, kisses and cuddles within their relationship. There were hints of sex, but they were very rare, and when they did happen, the aroma of roses, fresh shampoo, slow moans blended with “I love you”s would mix the air. It was always so sweet, like him. Maybe, he was just falling behind on his duties and needed to get stuff done.

Dinner was no better for Sanji. Y/N sat across from him, and of all days to not sit next to him today, again, was not that day. Constantly missing the food into his mouth, which caused the bits of steak to fall back onto his plate. “Oi number 7, maybe eat properly instead of ogling at your girlfriend.” A slow urge comes up to beat his ass, but your tits were fighting that thought.

“Eh? Say that again you shitty mossheaded freak?” the table fell silent. Usually, everyone would be laughing and chuckling at this argument, but it was out of his character to get this mad. “Come now, have anything to say musclebrain? Or are you backing down because that's how you ran with your tail between your legs when fighting Mihawk, huh?” The atmosphere was suffocating, almost like no one could breathe. The smell of steak dissipated into a choking tenseness.

“S-sanji? What is up with you?” Speaking up from the table, Y/N got up, god her lips were moving but he could not comprehend what she was saying at all. Until he felt a soft touch on his thigh. “Speak to me.” There it was, her fingers on his thigh, squeezing softly to at least get an answer from him, as his hand came up to cover his mouth to stifle a low moan. “Look at me!” His head was snapped towards a face that he has kissed too many times, the pink kissable lips he could bite and fight for. 

“Uh, Sanji, did you tell her?” Chopper piped up from his seat. All heads turned towards Sanji, every worried eye and eyes were bearing holes in this pervert. Even Zoro looked concerned for once, to the point he put his hand on his chin to cover his mouth that naturally turned into a concerned frown.

“Unless he wants to fight, which he would have demanded me to fight him…”

“Ah-AH GUYS. WE NEED TO LEAVE PRONTO! EVERYONE MEET ME IN THE INFIRMARY” Chopper screamed out. The crew looked at each other trying to comprehend what was going on, almost trying to question the situation when the doctor looked at Y/N and screamed “RUN Y/N!”

“What is going on-” Luffy said, trying to continue eating the steak that was on your plate, when Zoro just grabbed his collar and dragged him.

“Not the time, but we can talk about it later!” Zoro panicked, while everyone scrambled to get out of their seats and out the door. Dispersing throughout the ship, while Y/N nearly tripped over her feet while leaving towards the resting quarters. Her scent was fading, which only meant that she was running away from Sanji, from the awakening beast from within.

The corridor didn’t feel any shorter, the lanterns swaying slowly while her feet tried to carry her to the room full of hammocks. There was an echo of shoes reverbing off the metal halls, as if it was getting faster and faster. A dark shadow of fear filled her mind, a prey being chased by a predator. Panting, some growling, and the echo of “wait, please!” It was desperate, oh so desperate. It made her slow down, wanting to help the poor soul, but the look on Chopper’s face was pure fear. The door was within her reach, swinging that door open with all her might, and nearly falling when swinging in and closing the door when the door would not close. There was a force that was keeping it from closing. It was him.

“Sanji-kun…” She looked so scared, yet so cute. The trembling rippled through her shirt, her hair was shaking as she looked at you. “W-what do you want?” He forced his way in, then locked the door to ensure nothing would come in, or leave. “You are scaring me love. Talk to me.”

“I want-” he huffed out. It was his voice, his voice at last. She reached out just to touch his jaw, when he grabbed her wrist and held it up, walking at her as she walked backwards into a pillar. “I NEED you right now, I crave you,” Sanji’s dark eyes were sporadically scanning Y/N’s figure. The dress shirt, the perked up nipples, the legs that were so luscious. 

“What do you-” Lips crashed, nearly teeth clanging against each other. A pool of heat started to grow in between her legs. Afterall, Sanji almost always wears a dress shirt on the ship. Even if it was a shortsleeve, it was always buttoned up so it didn’t show anything. This time, however, the outline of his pecs, abs and v-line emanate from the lanterns above. When was he ever like this? Aggressive? To take control of you? Never. Tongues were fighting, but she lost as he could explore her mouth, biting and tugging her lips like it was his last meal. Dragging his lips down her neck, planting the seeds for hickies to blossom later for everyone to see. 

“Ah, fuck. How could you be like that princess?” He gasped out when he pulled away. Y/N’s heart raced, she could feel it in her head. This side of him was so new, yet so hot. Tugging the dress shirt lower to feel like it was covering your dripping cunt, but it only made Sanji notice it even more. “How could you defend that green haired fuck. I have to teach you a lesson about that.” This was the side you had never seen. His leather gloves snatched both of her wrists, and gathered them with his left hand. “Why?” “I didn’t defend him!”

“Yes.You.Did” he gasped out. Twirling around the figure in front of him, he gave a quick slap against her clothed ass. A quick moan escaping those lewd lips that he had just abused a few moments ago. “You talk, yet your dirty little mouth wants me”. Smacking her ass again, which caused her to arch her back, taking a few steps back to brush up against his hard-on. He was too far gone, even Sanji knew it. I can’t do this to her, but I can’t stop myself. I need this now. His mind was racing as he subtly choked her with his right hand, teasing his fingers at the corners of her swelling mouth. “Suck it Princess.” His words were low, hot, and it shook your whole body.

“I’d rather suck on something else” she whimpered. Trying to imply that she wanted him, his cock that needed the release so badly. That wasn’t what Sanji thought.

“You wanted marimo didn’t you?” questioning your words, urging a confirmation from you. “Only I can satisfy your needs right now princess. But your cute ass is mine tonight.” Since when did he become so assertive? This soft gentleman that usually is stuttering, asking her what she wanted and her taking the lead was no more. “Well?” Rubbing her ass against his clothed member, she was shaking, anticipating what was to come. “I guess if you aren’t being obedient then-” the quick sudden movement of her body nearly being thrown onto a bed nearby surprised her. It wasn’t long before her arms were pinned above her head again, legs dangling off the edge, his legs wedged in between hers. He could smell her sweet scent of rose petals, tangerines and salt. His open hand brought up the dress shirt hem to her mouth as he put it up to her lips.

“Baby, please. I need you right now”, God she was begging for me. Dammit, I need her.

“No, I need you to hold this,” there was a hesitation before she took the shirt between her, oh so sweet lips. Backing up, taking in the sight of a goddess, her torso on full display, the blooming purples on her neck showing now, it was breathtaking. Sanji yanked off the shorts his partner had on, tugging it when it got caught on her knees and ankles. His look touched her up and down, and she could feel herself already wanting him. Instead, ripping off the only barrier between the air and her wetness, he took a dive into her deep sea. Her body bucked at the sheer pleasure of his tongue darting at her bundle of nerves.

“San-” there was an immediate pause at what he was doing. She fucked up, and she knew that. Every little feeling, the warmth was replaced with the air hitting her cunt. Without even blinking, his face was right in front of Y/N’s. Despite the lanterns being so dim, the lights could illuminate his lust-filled eyes. The glow of his personality disappeared behind the cloak of his perverted ego. The warmth of his hand was on her plump, soft, delicate thighs. A simple squeeze responded with a subtle moan from the girl.

“Did you want to be obedient?” Arms moving to put the shirt back into her own mouth, he stopped her. “You opened your pretty mouth already, so let’s put it to use.” Swiftly, mouths were crashing, as there were fingers pistoning into her core. Covered moans, creaking of the bed, cutting the silence of the room. She wanted more, feeling her shaking under his touch, he could tell she was close. A quick break from the heated kiss left her with a quick gulp of air. Panting, the taste of her sex mixed into her saliva. Sanji backed up, and the rustling of a belt and pants being discarded was the last thing that was heard when he rubbed the tip of his pulsating cock at her entrance. A whimper was all it took for him to drag his cock slowly into her. There was still a little bit of Sanji’s restraint left in him. Clearly, he had a little patience before he was fully into her body.

“Fuck,” the soft moan floated up into the room. The hilt of his cock so deep he wanted to cum right then and there. Sanji’s grip dug into the hips of Y/N, knowing it may bruise a little, yet its what she wanted to see in the mirror the next morning. Without warning, he started to quickly pound into her. There were stars in her eyes, sparkles as if she was swimming in bliss. The slapping of skin so loud, everyone on the ship probably knows what is going on at this point with the growls and grunts Sanji’s lips spewed out.

“So tight for me. Is this how you always think of me princess?” Without a warning, her hips bucked and a roar of pleasure erupted from her ribcage. “What a thing to witness, but-” he trained off, as he snaked his arm under her body to flip her over and piledrive deeper. Hitting that one sweet spot that could not allow her to think. Both, immersed in their state of craze, of lust, of love. Slaps were so wet from the sweat and the wetness meeting his balls. “I’m going to-” Sanji finally said as he pushed as deep as he could, loading his seed. There was a moan, failing to cover that she too came. Gasped breaths, and time seemed to freeze right then and there. “I-”

“Sanji!” She finally asked, her voice still shaky from the overstimulation.

“Did, I just-” his voice nearly inaudible, trying to comprehend what just unfolded within the past hour. “I am so sorry I couldn’t-” Her body flipped over, slowly but surely she was on her back. Arms outstretched for a welcoming embrace. A smile tugging the corner of her red lips, as if she was beckoning him closer. Glancing at every marking that was on Y/N’s body was because of him. “I am-”

“Stop apologizing, it was fine Sanji.”

“You don’t have to lie.”

“But it was exhilarating my love,” grasping finally in his arms to bring him closer. Smiling weakly, he joined next to her. Wrapping his strong arms around her sweaty waist, tugging the sweat soaked blanket on top of the both of them. “Maybe I can get used to your perverted side more often.” Teasing his hair between her thin fingers. “You became a different lover boy.” There was a sigh of relief, followed by a soft peck on the nape of Y/N’s neck. “Give me a sign, and I’ll be there for you always love.”

“Of course, but the crew-”

“Screw the crew, I can talk to them later about this.”

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#393

“Well, lookie who showed up!  I thought you were going to flake out.  Did you do it?...  You told them?...  I don’t need to know the details.  You look bummed.  Don’t be.  You needed to do this.  It’s time you moved out.  You’re, what, 19?  They kicked you out for doing what you should be devoting your life to—servicing dick.  And that’s why I want you.  I’m your new Dad now.

“The days of him beating your ass and leave you crying in your bed are over.  I’m going to beat your ass and make you cry in bed only to get turned on and fuck you hard as a result.  Ha. Ha.

“Come over here and give your dad a kiss….  No, you can do better than that….  Atta boy.  No, no.  Stay right there.  I told you to spend the night here having fun.  Did you get loaded up?...  How many in your gut?...  How many in your butt?  Five loads?  That’s good.  I would have preferred all five in your butt, but three is good. 

“Now remember all that happened here.  Because, as my son, I’m in control of that cunt between your legs.  No other men will be in there, not unless I say.

“Did you cum?...  What’s with that puzzled look?  I told you to enjoy yourself so that you can get one last nut before I cut your access off. 

“Tell you what, strip naked right there and jack off for me.  Yeah, I told you on that first night I fucked you, that you are never to touch yourself while I’m using you.  But right now, I want you to cum for me.  Strip.

“Son, I told you when I offered you to come live with me and be my son, that obedience is the center of what I am looking for.  Being naked in front of me will become very natural for you.  The thought of driving around with my naked boy next to me, gets me hard.  Now strip son.  Atta boy.

“This cruise spot is dead in the daylight, so no one will be pulling in any time soon.  It’s funny that the number of times we connected at night, you have been naked without any problem over by those trees.

“Put all your clothes in back.  Get on your knees, right there on the asphalt.  No, move back a little.  I want a better view.  You are rock hard.

“Begin.  Go on.  That’s it.  No, no.  Look up at me.  Stare at your new Dad.  Stare at the man who will own you, who will protect you, who will discipline you, and who will fuck the hell out of you every day.  I may be close to sixty, but I still have the stamina of a thirty-year-old.

“With your free hand, shove two fingers into your cunt….  Yeah.  Feel those loads?  Imagine those being mine.  I know you want to taste it, don’t ya boy?  Pull your fingers out and shove it into your mouth.  There you go.  Tastes nasty, doesn’t it?  I can see the ecstasy in your eyes.  I know you are remembering the first time I fucked you.  You were being spit roasted by those two truck drivers over there.  The three of us were going back and forth between your holes.  You didn’t care what we were doing.  It was all about servicing us. 

“The number of times I used you, it was all about my pleasure.  That’s what I like to see in a boy.

“Do it again.  Go in deep to get your fingers extra coated up.  Keep looking at me while you do it.  Keep pounding that tiny pud. 

“That thing is so small.  I don’t think I ever paid attention to it before, other than smacking you the few times I thought you were trying to reach for it.  I initially thought you reached for your thing just to get face slapped.  But you learned that your pecker is useless and should be ignored.

“You liked me smacking you across your face when my fat dick was slamming into your cunt.  But I saw that hesitation on your face; you didn’t want to encourage more slaps, but deep down you craved it.  I got so turned on to your confusion.  Don’t worry, I have no intention of changing.  You need to be continually reminded of your place.  Nothing does that better than a good ol’ fashioned smack especially randomly during the day.

“You are really going to town on your pecker.  Don’t ask me for permission, just shoot.  It will be the last selfish decision you will make.  Afterwards I will be deciding everything for the two of us.  My needs, my wants, my pleasures are your focus, always.

“My cock will be the center of your world.  You know all eight inches of it.  So, I don’t have to do any stretch training.  Being a whore here to every man with a hard on gave you that. 

“Son, put your hand back there and push.  Shit out the rest of the loads onto your hand….  There you go.  I heard that wet fart.  That’s bound to be messy….  You know what to do with it.

“That’s a good boy.  Lick your fingers clean.  Damn, you like it nasty don’t you?  Of course you do. 

“You like piss, Son?...  Moan if you do….  Good.  I love pissing in holes.  You drank mine with some difficulty.  As my son you will be expected to drink mine.  You eat ass?...  Well Son, you are going to be spending a lot of time with your tongue buried deep inside my hairy ass.  A lot of time.

“Damn boy!  Shoot that fucker….  Fuck yeah!...  That’s a huge load there.  Finish licking your fingers clean.  Figured it would be the thought of eating my ass would make you cum.  Son, there’s no way I would have you as my son if you didn’t enjoy tongue fucking my shithole.

“Go on lick your own cum off your hand.  Enjoy your reward.  That’s the last time your tiny balls will be emptied.  You’ll have all of my cum, more you could ever want; you know I produce huge loads, and I can go several rounds.

“Did you lick all the cum off your hands?...  Good.  Now lick the cum that is on the asphalt.  Yeah, you heard me.  That’s it.  Yeah, you follow orders without second guessing.

“That’s going to be expected being my son living with me.  I will take care of you, but I won’t take shit from you.  You do need structure.  You need discipline.  I will deliver it as I see fit.  And I don’t want any back talk from you.

“Ok.  Get up and get in the truck.  Bring your shirt….

“…Put your shirt on the seat.  I don’t want that ass spooge fucking up my leather seats.  Close the door. 

“Ok.  The is the moment.  This is your last out.  I’m offering you a life where you will be my son and I will be your dad.  I’m in control at all times.  You will be disciplined, and you will be used to satisfy my urges.  You will also take care of the cooking and cleaning.

“Don’t worry, you will be fucked.  My cock gets hard two or three times a day. 

“Speaking of which.  My dick likes to fuck.  And sometimes it’s going to fuck other boys.  You are never to show jealousy.  In fact, I want you to get excited to know my dick is getting taken care of.  Your first words to me after me using some other cunt should be begging me to clean my cock.  Monogamy is not for me, and it never will be.  But it will be for you.  Your focus is always on me.  You will not think of being with another man.  Even when I have other men fuck you, your thoughts are on how it will please me to follow my orders.

“My cock is the only cock that matter to you.  That includes your own.  I had you jack off looking at me.  I wanted to be the subject of your last orgasm.  I have owned slaves, boys, puppies, subs, you name it.  None of them were allowed to touch themselves, let alone play with it.  You aren’t going to be any different in this regard. 

“Here, put this on.  This is a chastity cage.  Take it.  Put it on.  When you lock it in place, you are agreeing to be my son.  You will be accepting this role unconditionally. 

“Pull your balls through first.  Yeah… now your shaft.  It should be easy since you are soft.  Here’s the lock.  When we get home, I will be removing your pubes—in fact all your hair below your nose.  I have a cream that will do that.  Several applications will start to destroy your hair follicles.  I will continue doing it until you are completely and permanently hairless.

“You haven’t seen me naked here, but I am one hairy fucker.  I love contrast.  Me a hairy ape and you a smooth bitch boy.  I’m 6’3” 285 pounds, and you are what, 5’5” and 140?  I’m 59 and you are 19.  And the biggest difference?  I have eight very very fat inches, and yours is nothing.

“You ready to lock that?  This is your last opportunity to back out.  You lock that, and you are mine…. 

“Fuck yeah son!  You ARE mine now….  And now you’ve been face slapped for the first time as my son.  Ha!

“Now here’s your first test.  This is a pill for you to take.  Stick it in your mouth and swallow.  Here’s some water for you.  If I had thought about it ahead of time, I would have a water jug of my piss for you to drink.  Swallow it.

“Good boy.  Lean over and give your dad a kiss….  Oh yeah son.  You made the right decision.  Mmmm.  Mmmm.  You can use your tongue with me.  Mmmmm.  Mmmmm.

“Scream son!  Wasn’t expecting that hunh?  Remember, your titties are a source of instant pain.  And they are right here in arms reach.  I can be driving down the road and reach over and twist the fuck out of one, digging in my nail. 

“Or I can reach down and play with your balls….  Fuck, that’s what I hate about these cages!  They interfere with me grabbing a hold of your balls. 

“It’s a good thing that cage will come off in a month’s time.  That pill I gave you is part of set of pills where the biggest side effect being not being able to get erect.  For most men, it is the worst part of taking it.  But that’s the feature I want.  After a month of daily dosing, you will be completely soft.

“Oh fuck, the thought of looking down at you in my sling to see your limp pecker with your sole focus on your hole pleasing me…  Damn.  I’m starting to get a chubby. 

“Finally, I got your balls in my hand, and with a squeeze...  Awwww.  They are just balls!...  Quit flailing around.  Sit up….  SIT UP!  This is not how…

“…What the…?  Oh my.

“Get out of the truck.  Now!  Come with me to the tailgate.

“Bend over it.  I want to see your back and ass.  Go on lean over. 

“Damn!  Those are some serious welts.  Your former dad did all this last night?  Looks like a 2-inch belt.  There’re about ten to twenty strokes on your back, same amount on your ass.  He even went on your thighs. 

“I just don’t get it.  Why would a man do this… and not fuck you afterwards?

“I need a piece of this right now.  Hold still; Dad is coming in. 

“Oh fuck do you feel good.  There’s still some of the loads in your pussy.  Its silky walls is making my dick slide in naturally.  Oh man.  I know I have fucked you like a dozen times.  But this time it’s a thousand times better.  Your cunt is now my cunt.  Everything is so right.

“I get to fuck this whenever I want.  It’s mine.  All mine.  These welts are beautiful.  I love—after I belt a boy’s back and ass—to fuck him and hold him tight.  My sweaty wiry chest hair act like razors slicing across every welt, every thrust of my cock is agony.

“I’m gonna cum!  Ahhh!  Fuck!  Ahhh!  Shit son!  That was fucking amazing. 

“Let’s go home.  I need to fuck you again.  I was going to wait to fuck your first in my bed… no, our bed.  But I couldn’t help myself after seeing those welts. 

“This time I want to be naked on top of you.  It’s going to be a longer fuck.  And I will tell you this son, ever since I asked you if you wanted to be mine, all I have been thinking of is bringing you home, fucking you, holding you tight with my dick buried deep, and falling asleep in my arms.  “Get on your knees.  Clean me up, and let’s go home.”

[captainpondlilly]

Okay! The Gilear plush has arrived. This is my best attempt at all of his lines. Two have been unintelligible to me, and several are pretty long and fast which made it hard to follow.

My search history is.. hospitals near me, foot stuck in object, head stuck in object

You're low, he's low, It's Gilear's day baby!*

A guy on the street kicked me in the nuts as hard he could

I don't like "lunchlad"

Help me to understand what I have done to deserve this

My horoscope says "today is a good day to die motherfucker"

I ate a quick cup of yogurt on the way over here to bolster my spirits after I changed, I'm ever so sorry

What do you mean "When" life gives you lemons

I went to apply for the guidance counselor position but I was usurped by a drug dealing werewolf named Jawbone

In my haste to put the armor on I buckled the leg plate and think I clipped the tip of my penis against one of the leg plates and Everytime I move it feels like it might fall off so I ASSURE you demon I have no pride to speak of!

In highschool I was voted "Most Likely To Get Pushed Out Of A Tree"

My car was repossessed by the ride share app that I was working for

It's actually a good thing that no one came to my birthday party because the bounce house flooded and was swept out to sea

I just discovered that *all* of my emails have been going to everyone's spam

Unfortunately I have been banned from that hot air balloon service not because of anything that happened to me in particular but the guys who run it just sort of know my whole deal

Mmm this yogurt tastes like *potatoes*

I asked the woman at Home Depot why my plants kept dying and she said it seemed like they were reaching away from the sun

I've found out recently that one of my shoes is so filled with mildew because a pipe in my bedroom is leaking and I've developed a fungal infection in my foot which I didn't know was possible for elves to get

I don't think that I've ever "Peaked" in that we started neutral and have been going downhill ever since

I am currently trapped in a storm drain. The bottom half of me is above the ground, the other is below

Another Own Goal for Gilear Faeth, yes

Everyone knows you eat 7 spiders in your sleep every year, but I have a bunch coming into me the backway

My sandcastle I'm afraid was destroyed, as I was about to finish it, the tide came in and with it a man holding a bazooka who shot me and killed me

I know you're not going to believe this but Ive just been kicked by a snake

I found out the hard way that people can legally reject status as an emergency contact

The title of my autobiography is going to be Gilear Faeth: Please Stop

On my way here I was carrying a large bowl of Italian wedding soup which shattered on the ground in front of me and several of the small pasta balls rolled through the cracks and alerted vermin to my presence. I've since learned after a trip to the hospital I am deathly allergic to the sting of millipedes which is a way of me saying I need someone to come down to the hospital and pay for this. There is a doctor holding a gun to my head and now that I think about it this clinic is in the back of a storage unit and I think have gone to the wrong place

he said and I quote "he'd stomp my goon ass" if I ever got on his bus again

Gorthalax it was very nice to meet you, you've made a cuckold of me

We're the throw up boys!*

I've been informed that the brownies I consumed were laced with cannabis and rat poison

I am completely unprepared for the perils ahead and am deeply frightened, I'll go get the coffee

A gorilla monster punched me so hard in the back of the head I died

Today I have been hit by 3 scooters

Everytime you squeeze my hand it breaks several small bones

My imaginary friend as a child ghosted me because he said I was too depressing

Do you want me to go back? I warn you, it will break me

Can I interest you in an herbal soda? You must understand I am an intern at a ponzi scheme*

When I go to sleep at night I dream of a world where I might be able to walk through a field without stepping on a rake or gopher hole

If anyone needs me... I will be surprised.

If it wasn't for bad luck, Id have no luck is both true and what was written upon the billboard I crashed through

I wonder if any of these will feature in Junior year 👀

*Thanks to @cappa-cappa for telling me the lines I wasn't able to make out!!