#OH DADS LOOKIN PRETTY

[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!”

[buckyalpine]

DBF Bucky

This turned out more debauched than i intended, my bad. 

No thots just -

Dads best friend Bucky.

“C’mon spread your legs for daddy” He has you straddled on top of him, lining his cock up with your soaked cunt, rubbing the tip through your folds. You whine, sinking down on him, feeling a mix of pleasure and pain at the stretch of his length. “That’s it baby girl, lookin’ so pretty for me, God damn” 

Your nails dug into his thick shoulders, thigh burning from riding him up and down, your breasts bouncing in his face. It didn’t matter how many times he had you spread out like this, it always made him feral; the one person that was off limits to him, naked and riding his cock. 

“Such a good slut for me sugar, my little fuckdoll” He groaned, grabbing your hips, and squeezing your ass in his hands, loving how soft your skin was. “Dirty filthy fuckin’ slut, you love fuckin’ your dads best friend” 

“M’not a slut” you pout, moaning when he thrusted up from under you, nudging against that sensitive spot only he could reach. 

“But you’re my slut princess, look at the creamy mess you’re making all over me, you’re so slutty baby, you’re a dirty girl, so fuckin’ naughty” Bucky couldn’t get enough of your bottom lip jutting out, chewed raw, your skin glistening with sweat, your face twisted from pleasure. He grabbed his phone, guiding you to lean back so he could capture your whole body with his cock sheathed inside you. 

“Daddy, what are y-” 

“Shhh, smile for me pretty baby” Bucky cooed, capturing the way your brows were knitted together, eyes glazed over. He captured another of you looking at him with those doe eyes that drove him insane. Then another of your perfect form, white cream messy on the dark hair at the base of his cock, your thighs spread across him. 

“Lean back and open those legs for me, lemme see that pretty button of yours baby” Bucky murmured, gently maneuvering you till your legs were spread wide apart, your pussy stretched around his shaft. “There it is, s’all swollen huh princess, want daddy to rub it better?”  

Your felt your skin heat up, burning under his gaze while he eyed you up and down, getting more pictures all just for him. 

“Daddy” you whined out, collapsing on his chest, hiding away from him. You kept your face against his neck, needy whimpers slipping past your lips, sucking on his pulse point to keep your moans down. Bucky let out a soft chuckle, stroking your hair and rubbing your back, tossing his phone aside while continuing to fuck up into you. 

“All shy for me, sweets? Use your words pretty girl, you want daddy to play with your clit? Make you feel good?” 

“uh huh” Your voice was muffled against his neck, crying out when he started to speed up. He slammed your hips down to meet his strokes, pulling your body to his and rolling over. He pinned you against the bed, fucking you into the mattress. 

“OH-F-Fuck! Da-Daddy!” Your eyes rolled back, screwed shut from pleasure.  

“Open your eyes” He smacked your cheek, squeezing them together, making your lips pout, “Keep your eyes open while I fuck you, don’t you dare close them baby, look at me when I’m deep in your pussy” 

You clung onto him, legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his shoulders, taking each of his thrusts, your nails scratching angry red lines down his back.  He let out a growl, snaking a hand down, pressing onto your lower belly, making you feel where his tip was hitting that sensitive spot only he could reach.

“Feel that? Feel my cock in you sweets, s’deep, so deep in you, m’making a mess in there baby, there’s so much precum, m’leaking so much in you” 

You clenched at the thought of his cum filling you up, usually having him pull out and covering your face instead. Your pussy dripped around his shaft at how it would feel to have him give you his full load, his warm seed pumping you up, giving you his kids, feeling him throb-

Fuck-

“Open your mouth” You obeyed instantly, sticking your tongue out, letting him spit in your mouth, humming in satisfaction when you swallowed. “You’re such a good girl for me baby, makin’ it hard for me to pull out” 

Then don’t.

“I gotta pull out, huh? Better ease up sweets, choking my dick, I don’t know how long I’ll last with the way your squeezing and milking me” 

Then give me your milk, daddy. 

You whimpered, clenching your thighs around his waist, not wanting him to pull out. You shook your head while he let out a moan almost as if he was in pain, his body weight dropping on you. 

“S’not fair princess, you know I can’t” 

He couldn’t.

You were his best friends daughter.

Your dad would kill him if he knew.

He couldn't 

“Ease up sweets, you’re gonna make cum in you” Bucky warned as best as he could, his pace growing sloppy. 

“Put a baby in me daddy!” Your legs wrapped tighter around him, your ankles locked at his lower back. You bit your lip, looking at him with desperate doe eyes, clinging around his body, “Wanna have your baby” 

“Oh God” Bucky could feel his cock swell, his balls painfully heavy, the veins running along his shaft throbbing. He worked his hips faster, giving you harsh, slopping thrusts, his feet slipping against the sheets. “You want a baby? You want my baby? I’ll give you a fuckin’ baby” Bucky moaned, pounding into you until the headboard slammed against your wall. 

What the hell was he doing, he couldn’t-

“Get me pregnant daddy” 

Fuck, yes he could. 

“You’re gonna be a good. little. mama, n’I’m gonna be your baby daddy, n’you’re gonna be so gorgeous with that round belly and so much milk for our baby” You cried out, feeling pleasure building higher and higher, just ready to tip over as he slammed into you, his hands fisting the sheets by your head. “You gonna feed me baby?” He sucked your nipple into his mouth, his pace faltering further at the thought of your sweet milk flowing into his mouth, “Gonna give me mommys sweet warm milk?”

“Daddy, m’cumming!!” Your orgasm ripped through you without warning, clenching and squeezing his cock, making his balls tighten. Bucky let out a pornographic moan a the feeling of your scratches, legs locked at his waist not letting him pull out. His cock was rock hard, swollen beyond belief as he finally caved, letting pleasure burst through his cock. 

“FUCKK” He roared against your neck, the sheets tearing under his grip as he started to pump ropes of cum into you, “That’s it, take all of my cum in that pussy, take my kids pretty girl, my filthy little baby” Bucky stilled, still dribbling into you while you panted, your body pliant underneath him. He softly stroked your hair, gently kissing your temple, your eyes growing wide when you felt his cock some how harden again almost instantaneously.

“Better have an excuse for your dad baby, cause I’m not leaving this bed till you make me a daddy” 

[evilminji]

Oh god :Dc a Danny Summons Contract

No you guys DON'T UNDERSTAND-!

Just. Danny! Only Danny! He fucked up. Some ancient Warring States Ninja fucked up. They BOTH agreed to NEVER talk about it again.

Cause like? That ninja? Was a GROWN ASS MAN. A qualified BAMF of the highest order. He WAS the Danger, thank you very much. So, he? Will NEVER live down being saved by...well...

*holds up wildly struggling, noodle limbed, sad wet raccoon havin a terrible day lookin, meat thresher on legs*

THIS.

It's a BABY. Honestly, his Clan's TODDLERS know how to throw better punch. This scrawny infant baby child is both? His new son. AND an embarrassing trainwreck in motion. FFS kid, that's not how you- No! NO! Don't you DARE bite that opponent! You don't know where they've B-!

Kid they could have BEEN POISONED!!! Spit um OUT! DROP UM! Drop that RIGHT NOW! What are you? A dead Inuzuka? A god forsaken Hatake!? DROP IT!!!

It...sure is An Adventure™.

One of many early "here's how you DON'T make a Summoning contract" experiments, that Clans without seal masters were attempting. He's honestly lucky HIS attempt ended with him still... you know... ALIVE. Problem, though? After bunking for like... a few months? A year? In the command center?

And you know, terrorizing the GIW into complete collapse. Parenting him through some pretty serious life changes. Somehow making Sam MORE terrifying. And a whole host of off screen ninja shenanigans? They figure out? Oh. Only way to send him HOME is to either accept or refuse a Contract.

They gotta make one.

First they head to Frostbite for a recommendation, then? Off to a reputable Ghost Lawyer they go! They have to camp in the waiting room for like... a week. But? Worth it! The contract is AMAZING. And terrifying! Protects them both. Can't be used against EITHER. And that loophole you're thinking off? Ten pages worth of point 4 script, twenty three yards down, for why it's a BAD IDEA and breaks contract~!

Neither of them can make the other do SHIT! Only fully consensual, mutually beneficial, ass kicking here! If we FEEL LIKE IT!

Ninja dad insisted. Never sign a contract with anything less then extreme paranoia, kid! Leave no "implied" or "spirit of the rules"! Loopholes are holes in your armor, with which your enemy stabs you in the back!

Danny, tearfully, sends ninja dad home.

Gross. Emotions all over his armor. If only there wasn't all this sand in his eyes, he'd definitely complain about it. *stoic ninja hug*

Danny? Become a king. One of many. An Ancient. Becomes FUCKING HUUUUUUUUGE. Like? "Aw, your city is so pwecious~☆ n smol~♡! Whats it called again? New York?" Huge. A fuckin LEVIATHAN made of void, stars, and space ice. A Winter corpse, marked by lightning, that became the night sky itself. With a crown of aurora borealis, ever shifting, like flame.

Proportional, in a way, to Summon Bosses. Just as a normal human is to a normal toad, a normal cat, a normal slug. So too, is Danny LARGER then them.

You know... when he feels like it.

The contract? Passes down. Ninja dad does warn his kin. Prooooobably not gonna answer you. He only answers ME cause I'm, well, ME.

Fuckin BET. They declare. And lose. Repeatedly.

Time marches on. The Senju and Uchiha has their Drama. Dear KAMI do they Have Their Drama. Please Stop, says everyone. They... do not. The contract? Fuckin STOLEN. Because of course it is.

It's a HUGE, glowing, death radiating Summons Contract kept in a shrine behind like... SO MANY seals. It makes anyone less then a full grown JOUNIN physically SICK to even touch! Prolonged exposure kills people! Of COURSE it gets fuckin stolen. It's obviously a super, mega, ultra rare AMAZEBALLS Summon Contract... right?

Eeeeeeeeeeeh *so-so hand motion* KINDA!

It IS technically that.

They ain't wrong. Cause Danny IS an Adult now. A King. Connected to the Zone. An ANCIENT. Beyond and Above his mortal origins, even as, by being a Halfa, he is utterly the same. That contract is as close as one could GET to having a contract with the Sage himself.

You know... if he answered you.

Felt like your petty bullshit was worth getting up off the couch for.

Not to MENTION? He can make clones! Like.... billions of them now. Has a skeleton army. Is kinda one of the stronger Ancients. But that's not the point. The POINT? Clones. Don't have to be EQUAL facets of self.

You CAN make a .00001% clone of yourself!

Behold *summons poof noise* Lil Baby Man!

The harbinger of Danny! Here to Test Your VIBEZ™. He sends them each time. To be an adorable menace. Cause problems on purpose. Be gremlins, chew on table legs, maybe. You know, the works! They RADIATE his " I Am Death." Energy. But also his "winter, protection, and starlight" vibes... if you're brave enough to LOOK.

If you don't flinch away from a spirit of the dead. Can embrace the chaotic nature of a Zone ghost. Are kind to something that isn't what you expected, that you can USE, that appears weaker then you. Something that seems dumb. Distractable. Useless in battle.

Can you be kind? Do you immediately give up? To recognize a test when you see one? Is your first impulse cruelty? Distain? It tells Danny a lot. Saves him time.

Which? Is how a young Itachi, freshly Jounin'd, gets thrown through an old and rotting wooden gate into what LOOKS like a vaguely demonic death shrine. Hmmm, concerning. Baby 'tachi has been separated from his teammates. Is having a Bad Time™. The crows can't really help much here.

And, well, that IS a Summoning contract...

He's outnumbered. Low on both weapons and Chakra. Refuses to do anything BUT return home to his family. His baby brother. Is it WISE? No. It is in fact, incredibly, incredibly UNWISE. He has no idea what he'll be agreeing too. But... so long as he live just a bit longer...

He slams an earth wall against the entrance.

Falls back to the Glowing Contract.

Stumbles, as even landing near it makes his insides revolt. His skin prickle and burn. Colder then the nine tails Chakra, emptier, yet somehow endlessly more ABSOLUTE.

It's like the very Chakra in his body screams against it. Rejects it's mere presence. As though all thing alive REFUSE it with desperation and fear. He has no time to muse upon this. It hurt his hand to touch. He does so anyway. Struggling to hold the earthwall against enemy attacks.

He doesn't bother to read the contract. Flings it from the pedestal, to unravel, so he may sign quickly. There. With a practiced motion, he nicks his finger, and scrawls his future away. Whatever demons may come. Whatever monsters this brings. Please... let him live long enough to say goodbye.

The world CRACKS as he summons.

Death and the Shinigami are not the same.

Even those without the ability to sense are battered by the tsunami of... not killing intent. No. There is no intent. No killing. Just... knowing. Heraldry. That Death comes for us all. You can not escape. Foolish and small, is this what you waste your existence on? Ants before a god. Dust before the heavens. He... he can not... breathe...

Frozen. Eyes wide. Sharigan spinning, spinning, spinning. Capturing the delicate lace of nothingness, absence of life, as it drifts by. Unable to move from where he kneels, bloody hand pressed to the ground, in a Summoning.

What Has He Done?

Outside there is panic. Screaming. They flee. He... he wishes he could flee. W...why can't he-? *THHHWAP!* Mmmmph?! Something small and almost bird shaped smacks into his face like a flung ration. Tiny arms spread wide to cling to his bangs and dangle. The deathy power fades... almost... almost as though it were... a threat display?

He focuses on the tiny creature whining and hugging his face. It... is a floating snake toddler? Or is it dragon? They have sharp little claws and stars along their face, a tiny whispy mane of white. Likely a dragon child then. They stick their small tounge out slightly, eyes the blankly trusting stare of small children everywhere.

He clearly want to be carried. Ah. Of course, little one.

Did... did he agree to raise a dragon?

Just?

Itachi, smol. Serious. With lil baby man floped on his head or tucked lovingly in his arms. The TEXTBOOK definition of "he don't bite" "YES HE DO!!!" For everyone but Itachi and Sasuke. To whom he is, of course, an INNOCENT BABY who has NEVER done anything wrong EVER. An angel! Why is everyone being so MEAN to poor innocent baby man? Boo hoo~!

It fucks up SO MANY plans.

Because Itachi. A smol child. INSISTS he is a Father now. What are you going to do? Say he can be? Why? Because he's a CHILD? Which is it? Is he a Jounin or a Dependant? An adult in the eyes of the law or a child to be protected by said law from pushing him off to war? Old enough to die, old enough to parent his dragon son!

And SORRY Father, he CANT join Anbu. Who would be there for his child? Ah, he should join a parenting group. *various competent parent instincts go haywire over this tiny Uchiha child in need of parenting* Danzo? For some reason his son seems to really, REALLY hate him. Better avoid him. His child doesn't know yet not to bite respected elders.

Sasuke? Gets to be an UNCLE! To a DRAGON! He takes his job very seriously.

It's the best PR the clan has ever had.

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @legitimatesatanspawn @lolottes @mutable-manifestation

[08luvmailz]

⌨︎ ⁩◞ HERO FANBOY — ! ❪shoto todoroki❫

SYNOPSIS ୨୧ ! which a certain hero from ua crushes (hard) on a idol ! headcanon, ooc shoto

FANBOY SHOTO! He wasn't interested in kpop activities, heck he hardly known anything about kpop in general.

He started knowing about them because of his brother natsuo who bought a heck ton of albums and blasting music in his room.

He side-eye his brother when he's screaming because he got your WINK-PHOTOCARD, as he keep screaming " omg! ITS SO SPARKS "

he saw the photocard and he was like " oh she's pretty " but disregard it afterwards BUTT

DIDNT KNOW HE WOULD FELL THAT HARD

he saw one of your recent comebacks on tv because his brother is streaming it and gahdam ur fucking SPARKLING ON STAGE.

At first he started knowing your group, YOU FIRST then streaming your group songs, your debut solo, collabs. streaming your group shows and music bank AND ALL THOSE

started buying albums too with natsuo. FINALLY HE HAVE SOMEONE IN THE FAMILY WHO WILL BE IN DEPT FOR LIFE BUYING ALBUMS

Natsuo asked who is his bias without hesitation he said your name, bro was smirking so bad at his lil bro BECAUSE YOU ARE THE MAKNAE OF YOUR GROUP, also half japanese and same age as him.

Bro was blushing whenever the camera pans at your face and smirking and doing that HE WAS GETTING HOTTER THAN HIS QUIRK

have a well known kpop stan twitter account who always make short comment about you but ICONIC because of how pure and sweet it is

doesnt know it but actually fell inlove with you NOT BECAUSE OF UR FACE (its a plus on him) but because of your determination and hard work, humour and personality is just CHEFS KISS

no one knows about his obsession welp it almost slip up when he accidently unplug his wired earphones to his phone AND SUDDENLY BLASTING Nobody knows by your group.

he lied he is just a casual listener

defends you on twitter, he looks like a soft boy but damn he is a beast on roasting BUT FAILS CAUSE HE CAN ONLY CUSS AT THEM

dedicated to buy front row tickets when your group finally have a concert there at your hometown

BRO WAS FIGHTING FOR LIFE AT THE POOR CONNECTION

bro brought the vip tickets for him and his big bro (with his dads money ofc, not like his father would know)

bro brought the 2 tickets for each day

won a fancall with you once but DAMN IT HIS HERO STUFF IS GETTING ON THE WAY

poor bby sulked the whole day that he missed the call, he was practicing his lines and tone for you

brought many batteries for his lightstick

make sure he is lookin good (not like he isn't good looking)

bro wake up early asf he want to be there as fast

bro became popular fan after one pictured him as the guy from the (group name) concert at jpn

he didnt know he bacame popular, he just saw his face 3 days after the concert on stan twt

BRO WHEN YOU TWO MAKE EYE CONTACT HE HAS HEART EYES

BRO WAS WHIPPED ASF

you are one stubborn fuck saw this cute guy with a scar and went through the barricades even though security was trying to get you back in stage cause its just a sound check and your safety too

Bro you came closer to him and saw his instax reaching for you. MADE A HEART CHEEK AT HIS FACE AND CAME CLOSER TO HIS FACE

bro almost want to faint right then and there.

you went after that he was kinda sad but happy he got a selfie WITH HIM

making this his lockscreen and making a frame of this treasured photo

You kept stealing glances at him and interacting with hand language, asking if he already eat lunch or just blantly flirting with him

LUCKIEST FAN

natsuo kept pushing his shoulders for every interaction at their section BUT MAINLY YOU ARE FOCUSED ON HIS BROTHER

bro when he came back from school BRO WAS BOMBARDED WITH QUESTIONS LIKE

" I DIDNT KNOW UR A FAN TODOROKI! " " WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME UR A FAN, I WANT TO BUY TICKETS TOO " " i didn't know todoroki listens to kpop " "BRO DID U HAVE PICS AND VID OF (your leader name) "

was now known as poker face but listens to puppy love by (groupname)

After that twt post of him being a handsome fan THEN PEOPLE STARTED SAYING HE WAS THE KID FROM UA, ENDEAVOR SON AND ALL THOSE SHIT

have an article of him now being the hero fan boy

boy he didnt give a shit about them, he just wanting to chill

but that didnt start there

your member posted on weverse a video of you taken, watching the sports festival and chanting HIS NAME AND BETTING THAT HE WOULD 1st PLACE

bro became the luckiest fan alive

saying he is the luckiest fan and hero and all of those then actually GONNA MEET YOU

you have a campaign like a collab with a hero AND THAT IS HIS DAD

participating on a event JUST TO SEE YOU

he did and boy was he nervous

he kept stuttering at the end of his sentence

then because actually friend with you, a little bit touchy side BUT HE IS A GENTELEMAN just subtle glances and touches

got your number and him posting a selfie of you two on twt (he made another acc just to post boast that picture)

after that he was well known as the hero fanboy who will soon in the future marry his idol

that woud be a story in another time <3

[shotmrmiller]

‘Single dad’ Soap, who’s kid doesn’t get along with your kid, so now he’s suggesting ya’ll have play dates together so they can:

‘Sort it. Yer ken?”

Your little one has never mentioned any issues in the classroom before, but hey, you invite Johnny and his small terror around for snacks.

(For the record Johnnys little boy and your small ones get on like a house on fire immediately - rushing outside and playing soldiers in the garden. But children can be like that right?)

There’s something just slightly off about Johnny. You can’t quite put your finger on it. He’s handsome, but the intensity in those summer sky flavoured eyes is bordering on too much. That smile of his shows his teeth in a way that’s wolfish, it makes you nervous, like he wants to gobble you up in one bite.

His small talk is charming, with a narrow edge of aggressive flirtation. Very quickly you’re telling him about separating from your baby daddy and everything that’s happened since, then you realise Johnnys told you barely anything about himself.

When you ask he just stretches and replies:

“Nuthin o’interest here lass.”

So you drop the questions, imagining maybe it’s painful and he doesn’t want to discuss his relationship past. A soured love is always bitter to the taste, even years afterwards.

Johnny says goodbye to you with a kiss to the cheek and a promise that he’ll host next time. Your kids whine - they don’t want playtime to end. But you’re slightly relieved Johnny isn’t hanging around any longer.

The next day at school pick up, he comes bounding up to you like an overexcited retriever, planting another overly familiar, scratchy peck on your face.

“Yer all invited ta dinner this evenin’ Bonnie. Simon’s so lookin’ forward ta it.”

There’s a glint in Johnny’s eye that says very plainly there is no polite way of getting out of this arrangement. Then he nods his head back towards the road, where potentially the most off putting man you’ve ever seen leans against a dark car. Face half masked and black eyes boring into yours, so wide he conceals most of the drivers side door with his bulk.

Not so single dad Johnny it turns out. You should have asked more questions.

(Needless to say, there was no issue between your kids - they got along fine. But hey, your WhatsApp picture in the school group chat was just so pretty, Simon had to send Johnny out to make landfall with you somehow. Soon, you’ll all be the best of friends. Obvs.)

I don’t know where this came from - your Ghoap inspired me 🙃 delete it if you hate it NP

you're about to ask him if that's his (very large) brother when the munchkin you do know throws himself at him screaming daddy. oh. you shoot him a stiff, polite smile before turning back to johnny. "wouldn't want to impose," you mutter. he's looking at you like you're something to be devoured. "i know the kids can be a bit much—" but johnny's having none of it. loops an arm around your waist, pulling you to him until you're hip to hip.

"no such thing, bonnie." when you open your mouth to argue, his grip tightens almost painfully. "we'll see ye then. and wear that colorful dress you've got. simon'll like it."

he means the one you're wearing in your nextdoor pfp.

did you hear him say you'll want him to like it? surely not.

[f10werfae]

That ass though

pairing: Husband!Dad!Chris x Short!Wife!Mom!Reader

Summary: Y/n is on another one of her missions of teasing Chris, everyone knows he’s an ass man, but who knew leggings had so much power?

Disclaimer: This story is fiction and should not be taken literally, the behaviour is simply imaginative and the content may be inappropriate

Warnings: Smut

Requests are open/Likes, Comments and Re-blogs are appreciated♥️

Chris Evans Masterlist, Full Masterlist, Taglist Form

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Look Noah, it’s mama” Chris said holding up Noah's hand to wave it at his momma, Noah's face widening with a smile as his arms stretched out for Y/n to hold him.

“Woah hold on, when did ya get these?” Chris asked his wife smirking slightly, his fingers looping themselves inside her waistband to tug her closer to him. Noah who was in her arms had his head tucked into the crook of her neck, his arms barely wrapping around her due to how small he still was.

“Hmm what do you mean?” Y/n asked playing coy, her hands smoothing over the top of Noah’s head, his tiny coos filling the kitchen.

“I think you know what I mean baby, lookin' good enough to eat over here” He groaned suddenly groping her ass aggressively, even slapping it just to watch it jiggle in his palm, God was he mesmerised.

“Stop it Chris, your son’s here” Y/n laughed padding about the kitchen, trying to lull the clearly restless Noah into a soft sleep. Before Chris took Noah out of her arms and said he was off to put him down in his crib for a while, although we all know he had an ulterior motive.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“I’m a lucky man” Chris groaned sipping on a cold beer, leaning on the edge of the counter just watching his wife move about the kitchen gracefully.

“Chris I didn’t actually think you’d like them this much? I mean Nancy said it worked wonders but- OW”

Y/n squealed jumping up a little, Chris’ hands coming behind her to give her one hell of a spank, I mean she always knew he was an ass man. We all knew. Turning around to face him, Y/n felt herself swoon at his charming smile and the animalistic growls coming from his mouth as he grabbed and kneaded her ass.

“What’d ya say we get that ass outta those leggings and we can have some fun before our baby wakes up? Man I just love your fuckin’ body” He whispered, his hands grabbing onto her love handles gently, his lips pressing an affection kiss onto her forehead.

“Well I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun, how fast do you think you can cum?”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

(Chris' P.O.V)

“Come on Chrissy, give it back” my wife moaned as I gently slid my hardened cock out of her slippery fuck hole, the sounds of her sopping wet cunt filling the room. Her eyes half lidded with her hands intertwined with mine, her hips slowly started to roll against the air.

Slapping my cock on her swollen lips, I heard her wince and whimper, her beautiful tits sitting there perked up looking pretty.

“Come on baby, look at your pretty puffy pussy, knew I missed her” I taunted slowly pushing myself back in, her breath getting caught in her throat as her hands now held onto my forearms which were by my stomach.

“Look at me. Be a good girl, and cum on my fat cock”

(Y/n's P.O.V)

Chris slammed his hips repeatedly into mine, whispering things like “my beautiful perfect wife, all pretty for me to worship”

My arms now linked around his neck, my eyes starting to close due to the immense pleasure coursing through my body.

"Your body is fucking perfect. I'm obsessed with it. I'm not cumming until you do. So, cum for me."

“Nuh uh, you’re gonna cum first” I smirked finding the strength in me to roll him over so I was on top, his eyes widening before accompanying that famous smirk on his face

(Chris’ P.O.V)

“Oh fuck you’re gonna make me squirt hun, fuck” I watched as her body bounced up and down on my cock, watching as she leaned back a bit to start messing with her clit,

“You’re mine” She moaned now hunkering down on my cock, slamming herself down onto it with as much force as she could.

“Yeah? What else mama? Fuckin’ talk to me while you play yourself stupid on my cock. You take such good care of our baby, my own milf”

“I wan’ another baby, want to be so full of you and want everyone to see it. God maybe you can give me twins this time baby? I know how much you loved seein these tits fill up with milk, and seein me all round for you”

She moaned grabbing my hands and putting them onto her tits, her body moving crazily almost as if she was out of control.

“You gonna let me knock you up good? Maybe I should keep you that away”

I watched her body writhe as she bit her lip staring at me directly in the eyes before I felt her squirt her juices all over us both, her hips humping the air as my limp cock fell out of her pussy after filling her up at the same time.

“Baby, oh, you’re milking my cock”

“Fuck fuck, fuuuu”

Grabbing onto her arm I pulled her down for her lips to meet mine, the remnants of her cum filling both of our mouths, letting her taste her sweet self. My hands groping each and every single part of her body that it could reach, her small frame caged in my body, her tongue licking up the mess she made on my face like some animal.

“Was that fast enough for ya?” I teased watching her flop onto my chest, her head in the middle of my chest with her hands holding onto my shoulders. Lifting her head all dazed, she nodded placing a wet open mouthed kiss on me, the sounds of our tongues meeting filling the room.

“This is what painters are inspired by” I whispered cupping her face in my hands,

“The hell are you talkin about?”

“You’re so goddamn beautiful, are you really my wife?”

———

Taglist Tags (Form is up there^^): @meetmeatyourworst @cevansgurl @imboredat2am @adoreyouusugar @pandaxnienke @patzammit @seren-a-ity @thereisa8ella @evanstanwhore @chrisevansdaughter @chrisevansangel @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @royalwriteroftheuniverse @uwiuwi @jackslover12 @bxdbxtxh15 @madebylilly @marvelgurl @fdl305 @stormcloudss @caps-shield1918 @xoxokiaraaxoxo @mirikusashes @taramaria @mysticfalls01 @sairsei @dumb-fawkin-bitch @vrittivsanghavi @kimhtoo17 @itsaylayay1213 @mrspeacem1nusone

[soobinologisttt]

forbidden ties - kang taehyun

pairing ☆ taehyun x f. reader

warnings ☆ dom!taehyun, !stepbrother, !degradation, !unprotected sex !use of slut, pet names (hehe) princess, baby, i think that is all. (i proofread but if i missed something/ spelled something wrong oops)

word count ☆ 3.3k

my current bias wrecker lol

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

taehyun pushes you against the wall with force.

"you're such a little dirty slut." he whispers against your lips.

you feel his hands roam up and down your body before finally settling on your ass. gripping it so tight that his finger nails were digging into your skin. you take a mental note to check for marks tomorrow.

"tae, we can't." you whine.

he doesn't listen as his lips make their way to your neck. lightly sucking and nipping at your skin.

"taehyun, you can't leave a mark," you gasp.

"no promises," he smirks against your skin.

you pull his head from your neck, cupping his face. and right before you can crash your lips on to his, he speaks.

"y/n?" he smiles.

"y/n?" he says again.

"Y/N?" you jolt awake and immediately sit up.

your eyes widen as you see your stepbrother, kang taehyun. rubbing them to make sure that he is really here and you're not still dreaming.

you hate being his stepsister. especially because you keep having dreams about him. he was unreachable and you know it. but the dreams wouldn't stop. night after night, you'd only dream about his head between your thighs, or his cock inside you.

that's all you could think about, at the dinner table, watching movies, it doesn't matter where you were, he was always there in your mind. would he be rough or soft? would he call you a slut, his whore, baby? woulf he throw you around like a doll or would he softly lay you down? your thoughts are leading you farther down the road of no return. and you don't know what to do.

you're mom is the only reason you know him and no matter how much you wish it was different, she is happy. after your dad left, your mom was miserable. you didn't even recognize he. she had dark circles, lost weight, and was drinking too much.

it was a coindence that you mom met kang taehuyn's father. she was out on a bender while you stayed at your grandparents. drinking until she couldn't even walk.

he recalls there being a man that tried to take my mother home. that's when he swooped in like a prince and prtected her. fighting off the man. he let her crash in his bed while he slept on the couch, like the gentlemen he is.

and the rest is history.

you move in with the kang's when you were just a junior in high school. it was rough leaving your home and everyone you knew. althought it was only a four hour drive, it still hurt. to add onto it, you lost most of your friends due to th distance and lack of free time.

and now you have a crush on your stepbrother. taehyun is the only person you have that is your age, but you can't help to want more.

to have his hand around your throat while he is deep in your pussy. you shudder at the thought. feeling yourself start to dampen your underware.

"earth to y/n." taehyun waves his hand in front of your face, pulling you out of your thoughts.

he is sat next to you while you were thinking of him. how did you not notice the bed dip?

he is relaxed. head back against the headboard and feet up. like this is a common thing you guys do.

"sorry tae. what's up?" you blush.

"i heard you saying my name." he smirks.

you freeze.

were you moaning his name?

"oh yeah, you were in my dream." your face gets hot.

"sounded like a pretty interesting dream." he cocks his head to you.

you look into his gleaming brown eyes before turning away. smoothing out the wrinkles in your conforter.

that's when, unexpectedly, he grabs your chin and pulls your head to face him again. faces inches apart. you can nearly taste his breath.

"what was it about?" he smirks.

"umm, i don't remember," you blurt out in a hurry, "anyway, i need to get dressed!" you freak out.

pulling your face from his in a hurry. looking back down at the comforter that shields your throbbing cunt.

"okay y/n," he grins, "well your mom wanted me to tell you that breakfast is ready." he climbs off your bed in one motion.

he walks to your door in while you look up. watching his muscle in his thighs flex. wondering what it would be like to ride his thick hard thighs until you cum.

you shake th thought off and just as you were starting to get up to get ready, he stops in the doorway. you look at him with a look of confusion.

"you look so pretty moaning my name." he winks before turning around and walking off.

oh shit.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

it has been weeks since you're incident with taehyun.

and since then you have been in hell.

sneaky winks, long touches, even longer stares, he was teasing you.

you feel guilty. he is your stepbrother. what would mom say if she found out? what would happen to our family? would she hate you? she is happy again. this would break her.

but all that leaves your mind when taehyun walks out of the bathroom. shirtless. all your common sense, all the red flags, all the voices screaming no go slient.

you curse your mom for putting your rooms across from each other. you left you door open on accident wanting nothing more to curl up in bed. and now you are regretting it. it was a bad idea, given that you are currently (and desperately) lusting over him.

he has a tiny black towel wrapped around his waist. his dark brownish-black hair, dripping water doen onto his sculpted abs.

he looks like a greek god. if he was, you would worship him everyday. hell, you would worship him even if he was a normal human. but he isn't, he is your stepbrother.

when you hear his door shut, you jump. snapping back into reality.

but you can't help but feel yourself dampening. wishing for him to come fuck you like you've been dreaming of.

it is a gulity feeling. you knew that you shouldn't be feeling this but it only made you want him more.

letting your lustful thoughts, you're bring your fingers down to your panty line. sliding it down to touch yourself through the soft cloth. rubbing slow delicate circles on your aching clit.

this is when you decide to be brave, looking at his door as you rub your swollen nub. l

you know is risky but you want him to see what he is doing to you. want him to watch you as you fuck yourself.

you imagine him standing in your doorway. watching you before coming into your room and closing the door.

keeping eye contact with you as he slowly walks to you.

"you like that baby?" you nod.

"touching yourself while the door is open? where anyone could see, your mom, my dad, me?" he grins.

when he reaches you he starts slowly climbing over you. making sure to place kisses over your clothing.

you speed up your pace even more. whimpering softly as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

his face is so close to yours as you lay back.

you throw your head back with a moan, arching your back off the bed as you grind onto your hand. wishing your imagination was real.

"such a pretty girl." he whispers in your ear, "i wonder if your pussy is as pretty as you."

you purr, "taehyun."

feeling your orgasm quickly approaching, you start rubbing at an insane speed. making your wrist ache.

"gonna come?" he smirks.

"oh my god! yes tae! i'm gonna cum." you moan.

"let's see it then, princess." you hear his actual voice.

and this time you aren't imagining it.

you didn't even hear his door open, but when you open your eyes, he is standing in your door way with his arms crossed.

"keep going," he growls, "dont let me stop you."

you oblige as you keep up the pace.

arching into your hand, you feel the knot in your stomach become increasingly tight before exploding. leaving you a whimpering mess.

"fuck!" you moan.

you throw your head back in pleasure. legs spasming in result of the intense orgasim.

he laughs at you but you are too busy in your euphoric state to notice.

"keep it up," he chuckles , "maybe i will just fuck you."

before you can say anything he turns and walks away. closing your door.

oh fuck.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

with each day that passes, your need for taehyun only grows.

to be on your knees, to have him on top of you, for him to sneak into your room, it was a constant battle with yourself.

you finally snap when your parents decide to take a week long trip overseas.

it was "spare of the moment," when they bought the tickets. it was a couple's bundle, so you and taehyun are stuck at the house together.

"taehyun." you knock on his door, shaking with anticipation.

"hold on! i'm playing a game. i'll be out there is a minute." he shouts from the other side of the door.

"okay, i ordered pizza," you shout back through the door, "i'll be downstairs,"

"i'll be down in a second." he yells before cursing something to whoever he is playing with.

as you make your way downstairs you start to think about the decision you are making. your mom and his dad just left. is it a good idea to continue with your scheme?

you shake off the thoughts. no way they would come home, they were super excited for this trip.

you decide to just go along with the plan.

you are bent over the counter, playing on your phone.

your white skirt is pulled up, revealing your black lacey panties.

you are scrolling on instagram when you hear footsteps nearing.

"what kind of pizza did you or-" he stops abruptly.

"oh. it's not here yet." you look over your shoulder, trying your hardest to look innocent.

but there is nothing innocent aout your intentions.

you turn your attention back to instagram as he stands there, dumbfounded.

as you get ready to turn back around, you feel his warmth surround you. taking in his scent. he smells like colonge, which you throughly enjoy.

"what are you doing y/n?" he questions.

"oh, i'm on instagram, waiting for the pizza to get here." you smile to yourself.

"is that all?" you feel him smirk against your ear.

before you can answer, taehyun reaches his hand around you to meet your pulsating clit.

you jerk at the sudden contact.

he rubs leisurely circles on your clit. making you shiver with need.

"taehyun," you whimper.

"so needy," he remarks.

he sides your underwear to the side, running his fingers up and down your folds. listening to the lewd sounds of your arousal.

"wet already?" you feel his smirk on your neck.

"nhm" you purr.

that answer was not enough for him, you know that when he brings his left hand to your neck. making sure to squeeze it until you feel lightheaded.

"use your words princess," he groans, rubbing his hard lenth against your ass.

"please tae," you whine as he pushes two fingers in.

the strech is almost unbearable given the lenth of his fingers.

"we gotta stretch you out, you're so tight,"

he begins to move his fingers at a slow pace, making sure to completely fill you to the brim with his slender fingers.

you moan at the feeling, needing more.

"more, please," you nearly sob, barely getting it out.

he happily complies, moving at a faster pace while makin sure to curl his fingers up.

you're a moaning mess merely at his fingers, makin you wonder what it's gonna be like when he fuck you.

you feel the beginning of your orgasm sneaking up you.

the warm feeling starting in your stomach, climbing more and more as he slams his fingers into you.

you can feel your climax getting close when he withdraws his fingers.

leaving you a moaning mess, on the verge of tears.

he doesn't seem to care because he instantly asks, "are you sure you can take me?"

you nod into the his hand that is still around your neck,.

"turn around," he grabs your waist and turns you around in one swift movement.

his dark eyes glaring down into yours, making your clit pulse.

he pulls your skirt up around your waist and hoists you up onto the counter. you instinctively wrap your legs around him, pushing him closer.

he slides two fingers back into your wet cunt while using his thumb to circle your clit.

your eyes roll back at the feeling.

"tae," you beg as you throw your arms around his neck.

he whispers into your collarbore, skin vibrating at the feeling, making you even more needy than you thought you could be, "can you be a good girl for me?"

you nod profusely, "yes tae, please please fuck me,"

"fuck, do you have a condom?" taehyun moves back to look into your eyes.

"no, but i am on birth control and i am clean." you look up at him with greedy eyes.

"i am clean too," he groans, before crashing his lips onto yours.

his tongue enters your mouth forcefully. both moaning as you explore each others mouths.

when you feel his dick twitch in his pants, you get an idea.

you grab his cock and start palming it. slowly rubbing him through his pants.

"fuck, y/n. you're so hot," taehyun moans into your mouth.

you pull back, "taehyun, can i, you know," you look down at his dick and back up at him.

"can you what? use your words sweetheart," he smirks.

"can i suck your dick," you say innocently, well as innocent as you can.

he pulls you off the counter forcefully by the waist and pushes you down onto your knees.

"are you sure you can handle it?" he says as he pulls down his basketball shorts to reveal himself.

you thought he was just being cocky, but he was not lying. he is long and thick. you gawk at the sheer sight of it. wondering how and if you can fit the entire thing into your mouth.

you have no time to think when taehyun grabs the back of your head and guides you to his member.

you open your mouth and take him as deep as he can go. making sure to wrap your hands around the base of his cock.

you whirl you tongue around his cock, hollowing your cheeks.

you bob your head up and down on his cock. making sure to use your hands to stroke him.

"fuck, y/n, your mouth feels so good," he throws his head back.

you moan around his cock.

he looks down at you, while you look up at him.

"you look so pretty on your knees," he smirks as he takes your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

you continue looking up at him through your lashes when he takes control over the pace. fucking your face while tears form in your eyes.

"fuckkkk, take it like a good girl y/n," he moans, throwing his head back again.

you gag around his cock. tears streaming down your face.

this tips him over the edge and he pulls out of your mouth. he lifts you up onto the counter again and pulls your underwear down, dropping them onto the floor.

before you could even react, he pushes into you, nearly filling you to the brim.

you throw your head back at the feeling.

"tae please go slow," you whine, as he slows himself down.

filling you slowly, he moans.

he moves down to place kisses on your collarbone before whispers into it, "you got this baby. you're doing so well," he praises.

you whimper as he starts to move. you lift your head up to see his expression.

"you're so pretty, y/n," he stares down, "you have no idea how long i've wanted to do this."

he starts moving slowly.

your nails dig into his shoulders as he fills you to the brim. you're nearly in tears from the pain. you're not a virgin, but you might as well be with the way taehyun is filling you up.

"are you okay?" taehyun brings his hands from gripping the counter to you your face, cupping it.

you nod, "yes, please move,"

he moves his hands from your face to your waist, pulling you closer.

you wrap your legs around him, causing him to go even deeper. feeling him in spots that you didn't even know existed.

"you're taking me so well," taehyun groans.

he is moving in and out of you at a sluggish pace.

"taehyun," you move your hands to grab his ass and sink your nails into it, "please, please, faster,"

he pushes all the way in before picking you up and walking the both of you to the couch.

he crashes you both down on the couch.

mouth and teeth crashing in the process.

he is on top of you as you lay flat on the couch that you all have movie nights on.

"taehyun!" you gasp at the new position.

"let me hear you baby,"

you nearly scream when he picks up the pace.

hitting the spot that has you curling your toes like a ballerina.

"fuck, fuck, fuck," you sob, throwing your head back.

"you feel so good, y/n," he moans.

you feel yourself tighting around his dick. the sensation is something you have never felt before.

just as you start to feel your orgasm approach, he pulls out, again.

you whine at the feeling of emptiness and the need to desperely cum.

"flip over," he commands.

you don't have to be told twice, you flip over in record time.

you feel him strerch you out again. this time he is even deeper. hitting your g-spot everytime his enters you.

taehyun places he hands on your waist.

"fuck, is this what you wanted y/n?" he questions.

"yes," you sob.

once he got his anwser, he speeds up. slamming into you at a brutal pace.

you continue to cry out with plesure as he abuses your pussy.

he slaps your ass, "what a slut."

"fuck, fuck, taehyun!" you feel the knot in your stomach start to bulid up again.

"you like that, baby?" he taehyun groans.

"yes yes yes, please don't stop," you sob out, "i'm so close," you squeeze your eyes shut.

"about to cum all over your stepbrother's cock?" he remarks as he smacks you ass again, making sure to leave a hand mark.

when he reaches around to rub your clit, your orgasm crashes down onto you, hard.

"taehyun," you scream out, " i'm coming, i'm coming, i'm coming," you repeat yourself in a haze.

legs shaking as the orgasm rocks through you body.

"fuck, you're amazing," taehyun moans.

he is still thrusting into you, gaining speed. you sob at the overstimulation, as he starts to slam into you. chasing his own release.

"you're going to take all of his cum, y/n?" he taunts.

you nod at his question.

"shit," he moans as he spills into you, breathing heavily.

he collapses onto you as you both come down from your orgasms, making sure not to put all his body weight on you.

you're half awake when you hear him speak, "that was amazing,"

you moan in response. too high on cloud nine to think.

you both lay there for a while. taehyun is the one that has to get you up.

"come on, we need to get you cleaned up," he pleads, "y/n, you are leaking all over the couch."

"one more second, please."

that's when you both hear someone struggling with the lock.

"oh shit," you both shoot up.

"we are home!" you hear your mom yell, "our flight was can-,"

you know that she see's your underwear on the floor. taehyun and you look at each other with wide eyes.

fuck

[bimbobaggins69]

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬.

𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a new life in a seemingly nice town sounds appealing, doesn’t it? But what happens when that nice town has a dark past; and some things you think are real, are just a figment of your imagination…or are they?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: modern setting, small mention of dying, angst, cliffhanger.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this whole idea came about from the books ‘scary stories to tell in the dark’ (which were my fav as a kid), it’s so different from my usual stuff so i hope you enjoy the little switch up (: thank you to my lovely betas @xxhellfirebunnyxx & @stveharringtn <3 totally set this up for a part two with possible smut, maybe? in the wise words of Dolly: ‘give us your ghost cock, Edward!’

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.5k

The red and green leaves crunch under the soles of your mary janes as you walk through forest hills trailer park, your new place of residence. You send a quick message to the group chat that you have with your cousins, who you're on your way to meet at a new bar in town. A slight chill runs through your body when you make it to the rickety bench bus stop that sits desolated in front of the trailer park entrance. 

You had moved to Hawkins a couple months ago on a whim, to be near your cousins who you’ve had a close relationship with since you were a toddler, despite only seeing them once a year or on the occasional social media posts. You had moved with only a year of savings and nothing else to your name. Luckily your aunt had a realtor friend who helped you buy a trailer, which was about the only thing with a cheap enough down payment for you to afford. You found a job at Hawkins middle school as a teacher's aide to Hailey Sinclare who you've become good friends with in the short time span.

The breeze picks up, kicking you out of your reverie and making you wiggle uncomfortably as the old wood digs into your black nylon tights, you lift each thigh to look for any snags in the fabric but before you can fully asses them, you hear footsteps and the loud crunch of leaves moving closer towards you– a gasp leaves your lips as you whip your head around looking for other signs of life. The sun is setting on the horizon and the only thing that surrounds you are the leafless scads of trees from the eerie woods.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya.” The voice of a young man utters from behind you, seemingly coming out of nowhere. 

“Oh, um its- its fine.” You murmur as he comes into view, you haven't seen him around but that's not saying much considering you've only moved here two months ago.

His long shoulder length waves sway with the breeze, and his big brown eyes seem to bore into your soul, making you swallow harshly before your head lowers. You begin staring at your black shoes, checking them over for scuffs, as if that was something you actually cared about.

“So where are you headed, lookin’ so pretty?” He asks with a half smirk, all the while placing his jean jacket that is embellished with an array of patches and buttons over the bench. Most of the bands were ones your dad listened to so in turn you grew to love. You were surprised to not find one single patch or button of a more modern band, but figured he must love the old stuff, that’s respectable. 

“I’m meeting my cousins at some bar in town.” You say with a gesture of your hand in the wrong direction, not yet accustomed to where town is or where the leaving hawkins sign sits, which happens to be in opposite directions. 

He smirks as if he realizes you don't belong here, and a feeling of embarrassment heats your soft cheeks. 

“Sounds fun.” Is all he says as he kicks at some rocks and leaves with his dirty reeboks. 

“Where are you headed?” You ask, feeling a pull to keep the conversations going with this stranger. 

“Oh ya know? Wherever.” Is all he divulges with a shrug of his shoulders, you nod in faux understanding, even if a million questions begin to rack your brain. Maybe he wants to appear mysterious, he wouldn't be the first guy to try that out on you.

He pulls a cigarette from behind his ear and fishes a lighter out of his pocket, lighting the tobacco stick before offering it to you. You decline, a part of you is surprised he doesn't vape like the majority of today’s youth. The smell brings a sense of nostalgia to you, remembering the times you’d climb into your grandpa's lap when you were a kid while he smoked his cigarettes and drank his coffee. 

“What's your name?” He asks as his eyes continue to graze over you. 

You tell him, but find yourself unable to meet his eyes. Something about his big chocolate orbs make goosebumps travel along your already chilled skin.

“And yours?” You question with a tremulous edge. 

“Eddie.” He answers before flicking the half smoked cigarette into the overgrown grass, beneath your feet.

“You live here, Eddie?” You ask curiously. 

“Sure do, lot 15, been here almost all my life.” He hums, before a vibration in your back pocket startles you out of your stupor.

You quickly pull it out, smiling at the text message your cousin Bella sent you. 

“Whoa…what is that?” The boy you now know as Eddie, says with an astonished lilt. 

“What’s what?” You shriek as if he was gonna point out some type of bug species that had somehow found its way into your hair or on your body.

“That thing in your hands.” He says pointedly.

“Oh, uh this is my phone?” You can't help the questioning tone that slips past your lips. 

“Phone? Like you can call people on that?” He still sounds astonished as if he's never seen an iphone before, which living in this century is close to impossible; unless he was amish but from the look of him, you found that highly unlikely. 

Before you could answer his unusual question, the loud brakes of a bus pulls up alongside the bench. Eddie quickly stands, throwing you one more questioning look before he begins walking towards the open doors. 

“Well, see ya around sweetheart.” He announces, before throwing you a wink and stepping up onto the platform of the bus that was headed in the opposite direction in which you needed to go. 

“See ya.” You murmur back with a smile. 

The wind picks up as the bus begins to drive off, leaving you to cross your arms over your exposed chest. Something out of your peripheral captures your attention, and you quickly realize Eddie had left his vest thrown over the bench. You yank it off and stand up, ready to run towards the bus to retrieve it. But the bus’s tail lights can now barely be made out in the fog, too far for you to catch up with on foot. You huff and throw the vest over your frame, the added layer brings a desired warmth to your body. You sit back down, the bench squeaks underneath you as the sun begins settling deeper over Hawkins, bringing with it an unsettling feeling to your gut.

The bus pulled up ten minutes after Eddie had left. You made it to the bar to meet your cousins an hour late but had a great time with them nonetheless. Drinks and shots were passed around, you had danced your ass off having the time of your life, something that hasn't happened in what feels like forever. 

Being closer to the city, you were able to take an uber back home all the while Eddie’s vest continued to adorn your figure. His brown eyes, ringed fingers and boyish smile stayed in the back of your mind the entire night, and a part of you couldn’t wait to return it to him. 

You wake up the next morning on a mission, drinking your cup of joe and eating your avocado toast, before you shower and slip on a pretty flowy dress with your platform doc martens, hair styled and light makeup applied. 

You realize as you walk the trailer park with his vest in hand, that he lives on the other side of you. Lot 15 comes into view and you see an old red truck that looks like it hasn’t been driven in years, parked next to a new silver prius. The steps are falling apart and the couch sitting on the porch sags, with stains and cigarette burns. 

You knock on the dingy front door, before you bring your slumped shoulders up while pushing your chest out in an attempt to look more confident, even as your heart thumps behind your rib cage.

A middle aged woman answers the door with a small smile—

“Hello, can I help you with something?” She asks sweetly. 

The beep of a machine captures your attention and you find yourself looking past the ladies shoulder into the living room, where an older man is lying in a hospital bed, sitting in front of an old television set that's playing cowboy westerns.

“Yeah, um Is Eddie here?” You ask timidly.

“I’m sorry, who?” The woman's eyes are wide as she looks you over, eyes almost as big as saucers when she notices the vest in your arms.

“Eddie; long hair, brown eyes, rings on his fingers, owns this vest.” You say as you lift the gramnet closer towards her, revealing the big dio patch that’s sewn on in the back, 

“I’m sorry, is this some kind of joke?” She says with a bewildered expression.

“A joke? Why would this be a joke? Is Eddie here or not?” You slightly snap as your patience begins to wear thin.

“Sweetheart, Eddie Munson died in an earthquake thirty seven years ago.”

[princessbrunette]

police chief! daughter x jj is so 😍🤤 Like imagine he has a warrant out for his arrest and your dad and some deputies are out looking for him and he crawls through your window to hide, and you’re all flustered and he’s just grinning saying something like “the chief’ll never assume big bad jj is hiding in his sweet daughters bed” !!!!

just moaned wtf !

₊⊹ ᥫ᭡🛼🩷 ⁀➴

you’re all scared when your window starts sliding upwards in the night, sitting up in your bed with wide eyes, your only defence the hello kitty plushie under your arm. that is until the familiar blonde head of fluffy hair pops up, a goofy grin on his face — almost unbothered like he didn’t totally have a warrant out for his arrest.

“jj!” you gasp when he climbs through your window with the elegance of a reversing dump truck with no wheels. he catches a trinket before his boot knocks it off your chest of drawers, grimacing at himself.

“whoops.” he whispers, holding up an apologetic hand before tip toeing over to your bed, bringing in the smell of outside air and himself with him. “hi baby!”

“you shouldn’t be here!” you stand up on your knees to fuss over him, warm hands touching his cold hands as you glance over at the door, paranoid. he sneaks in a kiss or two.

“we’re fine, i did a 360 of the perimeter— daddy dearest is fast asleep. know that ‘cus his lights off. anyway, how’s my girl?” he smiles, still panting from his journey up to your room.

“you know you have a warrant out for your arrest right?” you nag, wide eyed and nervous as he flops down onto his back on your bed, resting a hand behind his head. he shrugs, like you had mentioned something small and petty.

“minor charges. no offence but your dads a dick— y’know he’s only pushing this arrest ‘cus he’s all mad at me, thinking i’m in his daughters guts.” he inspects a nail when some dirt beneath it catches his eye, picking it out.

“well you are.” you give him a look and he smirks.

“nothin’ gets past that keen police officer intuition huh? i’on know how he didn’t realise sooner, to be honest.” he rolls off the bed, walking over to the door. “this door locks right?”

“yes, why?” you furrow your brows, listening to him slowly turn the lock before giving your door handle a few test wiggles. he turns back towards you, walking towards the bed.

“oh, i’m stayin’ over. that’s cool right? i can crash?” he starts to kick his boots off, toeing them off and kicking them under your bed.

“are you crazy? if my dad catches you—”

“the doors locked. he’s not gonna catch me.” he reaches you, cupping your cheek and staring deeply into your eyes as if trying to convince you. “they’re lookin’ for me out there,” he gestures to the window. “last place they expect me to be is in his pretty little daughters bed, right?” his teeth glimmer in the low light of your room as he grins again before unzipping his pants, kicking them off to climb into your bed. you bite your lip deep in thought, turning around to watch him get comfortable.

“you joinin’ me or what, princess? pretty cold in here without you.”

₊⊹ ᥫ᭡🛼🩷 ⁀➴

[iamtheterrorthatflapsinthenight]

Random X-Men Headcanons!

Me and my friend have compiled a lot of headcanons for the X-Men (mainly formulated from jokes) so I wanted to put some here! A few of these are headcanons, most are jokes lol

Kurt listens to really peppy music when he's upset, the main one being the Beach Boys. Just imagine him, poor little German boy, singing Surfin' USA tiredly, trying to turn his mood around.

Erik listens to girly pop music, mainly Katy Perry and Ke$ha. Why? Because it's funny. Let him be girly pop.

Scott tells a lot of jokes but he's deadpan so people can never really tell. Like sometimes he'll just say some insane shit, plain faced, and see how the others react.

Dancing headcanons! Remy is a very good dancer, being particularly prolific in swing dancing. Logan somewhat refuses to dance, but he can line dance. Morph doesn't know how to dance, but they act like they can, dancing like a drunk white girl. Scott and Jean like to dance in private, but Scott gets nervous to dance in front of others. Ororo can bust that shit down.

Scott tries not to laugh when he, or someone else, is doing a bit. Like he tries not to break as he jokes along, to the point where he has to stop talking to not smile, biting inside of his mouth.

Furthermore! He also has a loud laugh, and people get a little caught off guard when they hear it. Me and my friend have described his laugh as a goose honk sound.

Kurt gaslights for fun, and he can get everybody pretty good, except Scott and Jean. You may think "oh because Jean's a telepath, right?" No, because--

Scott and Jean gaslight each other for fun, and they formulate these fake, big arguments, just as a bit. So, they're very familiar with gaslighting tactics, being they lie to each other as a joke, so when Kurt tries to, they immediately meet him-- A little too well, because Kurt is used to just messing with people.

Scott will occasionally freak people out by lowering his glasses (keeping his eyes closed of course). Like someone says "Hey, take a look at that." and he'll lower his glasses and go "Where?!" as a joke.

Everyone loves Kurt. Like, everyone. If Kurt doesn't like someone, everyone has a distaste for them as well.

Jean refers to her own psychic abilities as her "Jedi Mind Tricks"

This one isn't really a headcanon, just a running gag me and my friend do, but something bad will happen, or something inconvenient, and Remy will go "Don't worry.", insistently. Like a loud explosion can go off, and Remy will just say "Don't Worry." Occasionally this will be lengthened to "Don't what? Worry!"

We don't call Leech by his name. We call him Gneep Gnorp. That's it.

Kurt and Remy are super close (as pseudo brother in laws) and they hang out a lot, also doing that guy thing where they flirt with each other as a joke.

No one likes Emma. That's it.

Scott is autistic.

Warren is well manicured. He always has his hair just as he likes it, his wings always preened, his clothes always ironed. He'll a snazzy lookin' fella.

Rogue is a great singer. This barely a headcanon, her voice actress literally put out a song "Mojo Man (Ode to Remy LeBeau)", go listen to it.

Kurt's very coy and playful. Like, "Staaahhppp, hehe!" He also laughs at his own jokes all the time, like he cracks himself up.

Music headcanons! Here's just a few of the ones we made-- Scott likes dad rock obviously, mainly soft rock and folk rock (The Beatles, Hall & Oates, The Beach Boys, CSNY), Logan likes harder rock (Metallica, Alice Cooper, Motley Crue, Iron Maiden), Morph likes new wave and glam rock (Oingo Boingo, David Bowie, Talking Heads, Tears For Fears), Remy likes a fun mix of jazz, country, and soul, with a little rock sprinkled in (Johnny Cash, Ray Charles, Billie Holiday, Queen), Jubilee likes a lot of pop, pop-rock, that sorta thing (Cyndi Lauper, Madonna, ABBA, Wham!)

Kurt has a lil hyperfixation on pirates and ships-- this is kinda canon in the comics. But he loves talking about pirate history and ships and misconceptions.

I'm sure there's a bunch of ones I can't remember but there ya go lol

thanks to @the-death-defying-night-crawler for being funny and making these with me lol

[migwayne]

Getaway

task force 141 & gender-neutral reader

fluff, shenanigans & disgruntled dad price 🫶 r being a softie, little to no physical descriptors

word count: 1955

please god. pls show up in the tägs i'm reposting this for the 5th time

Rain poured down gradually harsher on a rare uneventful night at the base. The pounding of heavy water droplets could be heard all over, grey clouds slowly blending into the darkening sky as the hours went by. It was time for a smoke break (a break from doing not much else really). The air was significantly cooler as you stepped outside, reaching the point where your breath was visible. As comfortable as you could be, you scooted close to the walls to evade the pouring water and lit a cigarette hanging loosely from your mouth, inhaling slowly. 

Not much else was going on today on the base, obviously, everyone seemingly occupying themselves in their room to their liking. Soap or Kyle occasionally dropping by, exchanging a few words or silly jokes before retreating. Some more company wouldn't hurt on a day like this when you're left to your thoughts for longer periods than you could handle. 

That's why when you noticed a small figure approaching you from your peripherals, you turned in interest hoping for a bit of company again. It was a little calico cat, seemingly around 8-9 weeks old, taking slow steps towards you, the poor thing's fur drenched in water. Only when you made eye contact with the kitten did it start meowing loudly. 

"Ooh, you poor baby are you cold?" The cigarette dropped quickly, and lowering to the kitty's level as much as you could, you took a few steps towards the little cat. With the baby voice you were speaking, you bet your teammates wouldn't even recognize you. It didn't seem too frightened, but then again the poor thing seemed to be barely standing, its little body shaking at the cold temperature. 

"Oh shit, I'll warm you up okay?" It didn't budge as you hastily take your hoodie off, hung over one arm before you finally decide to risk picking the kitten up with the other, gently placing it down your lap, still squatting. The little furball doesn't resist as you wrap the soft black hoodie loosely around it. With the kitty safe and secured, you quietly enter the base once again, hoping no one is lurking about. 

"How the hell did you get here kitty? Where could your mom be...?" You thought out loud while navigating the dimly lit halls, hoping to stop later by the small kitchen area to prepare something edible for the little cat. Your focus was on getting her dry and warm though. Thankfully, you didn't run into anyone on your way back to your room. Procuring the fluffiest (and clean) towel you could, you unwrapped the feline on the bed, before wrapping her right back in the soft fabric, drying the fur in slow and gentle motions, even resulting in soft purrs. 

"You're lookin' much better now, ain't that right?" you spoke as you scratch the animal's soft-furred head gently. 

"You stay right here and I'll get you something to eat, you got that Private?" The cat kept on purring, seemingly safe and sound enough, for now, to be left alone for a few minutes. You hoped no one came looking for you in these later hours now and be welcomed by another whole living breathing being that wasn't you in your room. 

The kitchen area was still barren thankfully, and you deemed it safe to prepare some scrambled eggs, having learned some time ago that milk wasn't actually that great for cats to consume. It didn't take long thankfully, and with the eggs on a small little plate for the kitty, you powerwalked back to the safety of your own space. 

"Hey, ______!" 

Fuck!

Slowly turning around, you could see Kyle just barely step into your room uninvited. Literally any other time you wouldn't have minded, since he was used to you doing the same pretty much every other day. Goddamnit.

Of course, he noticed the hesitation in your movements and was further puzzled by the small portion of scrambled eggs held in your hand because of course he would. 

"What's with the egg?"

"Is that what you came here to ask me?" 

"Uh, no, I just think I left my charger in here, will you let me look?"

"You know where you left it?"

"I dunno man, on the bed? Or the bedside drawer, will you just let me look?" he asked, you could sense a little impatience in his voice as he did. His attention quickly snapped downwards though, as he felt a small tug of something at the leg of his pants. That's exactly when you noticed your little rescue cat was not on the bed anymore. 

The look on Kyle's face told you everything... He was not impressed, to say the least. That's why it was a pleasant surprise to see him gently pick up the kitty. That didn't mean he liked you bringing it in here, you knew that all too well...

"What is this?"

"...Uh, a cat..?" 

"I know it's a damn cat, how and why is it in here?" 

"...I brought 'em in here, duh. Okay Gaz I wasn't gonna let the thing out in the pouring rain, what was I supposed to do?" 

That one got him. He didn't seem to want to continue arguing, so funnily enough he just started babying the kitten in his arms along with you in silence. It was quickly back to purring loudly from the affection.

"Did y'know... calico cats are almost always female?" Kyle shares unexpectedly while bundling back the kitten into the towel, all three of you sitting back on the bed. She seemed to be on the brink of sleep now in the midst of all the pampering. 

"Wha? How'd you know that?" 

"Just a lil' fun fact..." he replied with a smirk. "So seriously, do you actually plan on keeping 'er here? What about when we're sent off to god knows where in a matter of days?" 

He has a point... somberly feeding the kitten bits and pieces of scrambled egg, you come up empty on that front. 

"But Kyleeeeeeee, she's so cute! I'll just... ask around first or something..." you stated as the kitty was scooped in your arms once again.

"I'm going to name her... Kyle MacTavish Riley Price." 

"Pfttt no you won't..." Kyle protested lazily at the name.

"Fine, you will not be part of her name then." 

"Dude, seriously you can't keep her in here for long... just wait 'til someone tells Price..." He said in finality, arms now crossed, eyes still on the undeniably cute kitten though.

"Pssht, what's he gonna do?"

"Who tells me what?" 

At the voice of a new person in your room, you tried to hide the little furball behind yourself as delicately as possible, hoping the cat was not seen. 

Fuck. Kyle didn't close the door.

In peeked Price, with a questioning look on his face, but seemingly in a good mood as of now at least. Of course, the way you quickly swiveled with arms behind your back didn't escape him, it was not very subtle. You knew there was no way around it now.

"What's with the hiding Sergeant?" He inquired, head raised towards you in a suspicious nod. 

"I-uh--"

"You better not lie." His voice was now serious, audibly so, as if he was giving out orders on the field.

As if the tension couldn't climb higher, a soft 'meow' was heard, and of course, Price immediately knew before your hands presented the little creature to him. Head hung, knowing the jig was up, the kitty was now held out towards him. You couldn't deny, you were a little curious to see the captain's reaction, barely hiding a smile while glancing up at him. 

His eyes widened momentarily, then a hand raised to pinch the bridge of his nose in that usual disapproving way of his. 

"Kid... do I even hafta tell you?" Pose mirroring Kyle's, who still stood next to you, Price crossed his arms in a mildly-annoyed dad manner. 

"...Pet ownership-"

"Pet ownership in quarters is forbidden. So explain to me what this is." 

"Dad-" Kyle snickered "I mean captain, it's goddamn pouring outside, and this little thing just walked up to me soaked to the bone, I couldn't possibly just leave her out there, could I? ...We could make her our mascot?"

"We don't need a mascot. We're a task force, not a damn sports team." He eyed the little cat, now held securely to your chest wrapped in the fluffy towel. He was your captain first and foremost, but not a heartless one...

"Just... let me take care of her 'til I find her a home? Could Laswell take her?" 

"Laswell's not gonna come down here for a cat of all things!" His voice raised now, almost laughing at the suggestion. At the sound of the commotion two new heads came into view behind him, now every member of the task force congregating in the vicinity of your room.

"We gettin' a mascot?" came Soap's voice, before noticing the kitten, bundled in the towel relaxing in your arms.

"Swatch at thes wee bairn!" He slinked carefully around Price, looking at the cat adorningly. 

"Don't you swear in front of her." The cat mewed softly in perfect timing, as you placed a palm gently on her head, covering her ears. Nonetheless, Soap was now petting her too, and she definitely enjoyed the attention. 

"Aye aye, shut up..." 

"Children, the lot of you..." 

"Just gimme one week Captain? Please? I can't just throw this little baby out..." Pleading to Price, you lifted the kitty to your cheek, hoping to amp up the groveling just a bit.

Hearing him sigh you were tempted to jump in joy, knowing the captain's resolve was broken. Brows furrowed, finger pointed, and patience dwindling he took one final look at the furball.

"She stays in here, clear? If I see her anywhere outside yer room, I'm personally throwin' her out, got that?" 

"Yeah yeah, got that..."

"Watch it." and with that, Price made himself scarce. The rest of the team still stayed though, Ghost stepping into the room, finally getting a better look at the calico. He was the other one whose reaction you were curious to see. Kyle was watching the cat curiously again, as Soap entertained her with a loose string he pulled from the towel. Her little paws were trying to squeeze around the string tightly, but it was slowly pulled from her again and again, earning a smile from everyone in the room (even if no one saw Ghost's.) 

"What are you actually going to do with this?" He piped up to break the silence after a few moments, as he gently scratched the kitty under her chin. 

"Not this, her! Kyle MacTavish Riley will go to a good home as soon as I uh.. find one..." Kyle no longer seemed to be affected by the name, and Soap laughed at the sound of it heartily. Ghost, of course, tried to look serious as ever under his balaclava. 

"Oh no, you named her already? Fuckin' hell..." 

"She's no longer Price anymore?" 

"Alright, alright, go back to your room if you hate her so much why doncha?" 

"I didn't say hate..." 

"Did you call Price Dad?" 

"Johnny shut up right now or I swear to god--" you were quickly cut off by a headlock- 

"Aye, I'd like tae see ye try, Sergeant."with the headlock now turned into a tight hold over your chest, you hung in his hold with stretched-out arms, much like you'd see the little cat do in the past few hours.

Meanwhile, in the Captain's office...

"You're calling me about a cat right now?"

"She's really cute Kate..."

[justagalwhowrites]

New in Town - Ch. 7: First Double Date

You and Joel go out with Tommy and Maria. A continuation of New in Town chapters 1-6 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Best Friend's Dad!Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Smut. No use of Y/N. Age gap (reader is 35 Joel is 47, not a focus of the fic). Minors DNI, 18+ only

Length: 5.5k

AO3 | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“I swear to God Joel, if you make fun of me…” 

“I’m not gonna make fun of you, Beautiful.” 

“Oh you say that now.” 

“I’m really not,” he laughed a little.  

“I did like… research and shit,” you said from the other side of your bathroom door. “I Googled, OK?” 

“I’m sure you look incredible,” you could hear the smile in his voice. “Just come out here.” 

You sighed.

“Fine.” 

You knew you shouldn’t be nervous with Joel and, usually, you weren’t. But this felt a little different. You opened the bathroom door and came into your bedroom, doing a little spin as you did to show him both sides of the outfit. His face shifted from a smile to something almost hungry as he looked you up and down from his spot on the edge of your bed. He checked his watch. 

“What?” You frowned. 

“Just seein’ how much time we have until Tommy and Maria get here,” he said, looking back at you. “Think if we’re quick and leave that little skirt on…” 

You laughed and all but jumped on his lap, kissing him. 

You were going on your first double date with Joel, with his brother and sister-in-law of all people. You’d met Tommy and Maria at Sarah’s cookout a few weeks earlier but hadn’t seen them since. You had, however, heard plenty about them since then. Especially after Joel told you that his brother knew about the two of you. 

Your eyes had gone wide when he’d told you that. 

“Are you sure it was a good idea to tell him quite yet?” You asked. “We haven’t told Sarah and they’re pretty close…” 

“Yeah, I didn’t… uh…” Joel awkwardly cupped the back of his neck. “Didn’t exactly… tell him.” 

You frowned. 

“What do you…” 

“Maria… might have heard us in the bathroom at the cookout.” 

“What!” You yelped, eyes wide. “Oh my GOD, Joel!” 

“It’s fine…” 

You groaned and collapsed all the way down onto his couch, burying your face in the arm of it. 

“They must think I’m some kind of ridiculous slut!” Your voice was muffled by the cushion. “This is mortifying…” 

“It’s really not that bad,” he rubbed your thigh soothingly. “Really. They like you! A lot! And they kept sayin’ they’d never seen me this happy. Honestly, Tommy was just happy to see me with someone I wanted to fuck in a bathroom.”

“Jesus Christ,” you groaned. “Well, it’s been great, Joel, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to change my name and move to Antarctica…” 

He laughed and tugged you over until your head was on his shoulder instead of the couch. 

“Sounds cold,” he said, kissing the crown of your head. “I’ll have to find a coat.” 

If you’d been falling for Joel before, you’d fully fallen for him over the past two weeks, ever since he’d found out everything about your childhood and your dad. 

You’d almost expected him to look for an out once it all settled in. That, when all the baggage had been sitting there for long enough for him to take inventory of it all, he’d run. 

But he hadn’t. He’d done the opposite. He spent that weekend holed up with you. Making you dinner, holding you close while watching Sharknado, changing the locks on your front door and installing a doorbell camera so you could see if he stopped by. He dropped you off at work Monday morning and picked you up that afternoon, heading straight to a car dealership after handing you a small pile of print outs. You frowned, looking at them. 

“What…” 

“So I took what I was asking you about cars over the weekend and found some good options for you,” he said. “Four of ‘em are at one dealership so I figured we could start there unless these are really not what you’re lookin’ for…” 

You flipped through the pages, all cars that were makes and models you were already thinking about wanting to look at, just tracked down at places around you instead of an abstract thought in your head. 

You teared up, a hand covering your mouth. 

Joel frowned. 

“We don’t have to do this today,” he said. “I don’t mind drivin’ you for a bit, happy to do it if you need a little more time or just aren’t up for it or…” 

“No one’s ever done something like this for me,” you dabbed at the corners of your eyes, trying to keep the tears from actually falling and ruining your mascara. 

“Told you I’ve got you, Beautiful,” Joel said. “Meant it.” 

You ended up buying a car Tuesday, Joel not a fan of how the salesman you talked to at the first dealership seemed incapable of talking directly to you and instead looked at Joel when answering all your questions. 

“That’s just how it is,” you shrugged as you headed back to his truck. 

“Don’t matter,” Joel said, opening your door for you. “It’s bullshit. We can always come back if we come up empty but you shouldn’t give your money to that jackass.” 

The second dealership had a saleswoman who would actually talk to you and not your boyfriend - boyfriend? - and ended up getting you a car with even nicer features than the one your dad had totaled for about the same price. You dropped Joel’s truck at your place and you drove the two of you to a restaurant you’d found on a local food blog, running your hand over the dashboard when at red lights. 

“Happy with the car?” Joel asked, smiling almost proudly. It was one of the cars he’d found and printed the information on. 

“It’s perfect,” you beamed at him. “Thank you so much for just… everything the past few days. This is the best I’ve ever felt after a visit from my dad.” 

You were feeling pretty good on Wednesday when you got a Nest alert on your phone. Your dad was standing at your front door, trying the key he still had. You took a screenshot and texted Joel. 

“Guess who,” you wrote. “Glad you changed the locks.” 

He replied almost immediately. 

“I’m staying over,” he said. “Got his parole officer’s number?” 

When your dad came by that night and actually rang the bell, you stayed just out of sight, watching the reflection of what happened in a mirror on your entry way wall as Joel answered the door. 

“Oh,” he said when he saw Joel. “I’m sorry, I must have misremembered the apartment…” 

“You didn’t,” Joel said, his voice cold. “Know exactly who you are. You’re not welcome here. Come by again and I’m calling the cops and you’d better hope they get their hands on you before I do. She’s blocked your number.” He handed your dad a business card. “If it’s an emergency, you can call me but you’re stayin’ the fuck away from her. You had your chance, you blew it. Now go, before I make you go.” 

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are or what my daughter’s told you…” 

“I’m her boyfriend,” he snapped. “And she’s told me plenty. Was probably nicer than you deserved about it, too, knowing her. Last chance to leave on your own.” 

Your dad was silent for a moment. 

“Take care of her?” He said quietly. 

“I will,” Joel said, tone softer. “Do a better job of it than you did.” 

“Good,” he said. “Tell her bye for me.” 

Joel closed the door and the second you could reach him you threw your arms around his neck, pressing your whole body against him. You kissed him, hard and frantic, tugging him back toward your bedroom as you did. You all but ripped his clothes off of him as you stripped down yourself, racing to get him inside you, not really able to calm down until he was. 

“Fuck, Beautiful,” he groaned, his hands on your thighs as you straddled his hips, his cock deep inside. “What’s this for?” 

“Needed you,” you said, dropping your forehead to his as you panted for breath. 

You were sure you loved him then. You weren’t sure how to say it yet but you were sure you felt it. 

Which is part of why you were really trying for this double date. You were in love with Joel, you wanted to impress his brother and sister-in-law. The two of you hadn’t really talked about it but, ever since he called himself your boyfriend to your father, that’s what he was. And you liked it that way. You wanted him to want to bring you places. 

Including University of Texas football games. 

Even though you knew fuck all about college football. You’d basically spent your entire college career studying or working, going to sporting events hadn’t been too high on your to do list. 

So you’d done some research, looked up what people wore to things like college football games. You decided to go all out and settled on a denim mini-skirt, a v-neck University of Texas shirt, cowboy boots and little orange longhorn temporary tattoos on your cheeks. 

“Wonderin’ if we should just cancel on them,” Joel kissed down your neck to your cleavage. “Look too good, don’t want to share you.” 

“Yeah, we’re not canceling on your brother so you can get me naked,” you laughed a little. “But you can get me naked later.” 

“Good luck stoppin’ me,” he nipped at your chin. 

Your doorbell rang and Joel groaned, dropping his head to your chest.

“Tommy has always had terrible timing,” he sighed. 

You laughed and got off his lap. 

“C’mon you horn dog,” you teased. “Let’s go watch the sportsball.” 

“One thing first,” he reached under your bed and pulled out a straw cowboy hat. “Thought you might need one of these to complete the look.” 

You squealed and grabbed the hat, popping it on your head. 

“How long has this been under my bed?” You gaped at him. 

He smiled a little. 

“Snuck it in the other day,” he said. “You’re a Texan now so you gotta have at least one.” 

“I love it!” You looked in the mirror and adjusted it a little. “Thank you!” 

You tipped it at him.  

“How’s it look?” 

He smiled. 

“Beautiful. Just… Beautiful.” 

Tommy’s truck was loaded down with coolers and a grill, your eyes going a little wide at it all. 

“How many people are going to be there?” You asked Joel as you got in the back seat of the truck. 

“It’s a tailgate,” he shrugged. “Can never tell.” 

“Give Tommy an excuse to drink while grilling for a crowd and he’ll take it,” Maria smiled, twisting around in the front seat to actually face you. “Good to see you again!” 

“You too!” You smiled, trying to resist the urge to jump out of the car when you thought about the fact that she heard you going down on Joel. 

“I’m excited to have another woman around for this whole thing,” she smiled as Tommy started the truck. “They do this once a year and I swear it’s like they pack a whole season’s worth of football stuff into one day.” 

“I keep tellin’ ya, get me season tickets and we’ll spread it out,” Tommy teased. 

“You think I want to do this every weekend?” Maria asked, incredulous. 

Tommy scoffed. 

“Who wouldn’t?” 

Maria gave you a look as if to say “See what I deal with?” And you smiled as Joel took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. 

You helped get the tailgate set up before settling into a folding camp chair with a beer next to Maria, the two of you watching as Joel and Tommy put meat on the grill, serious looks on their faces as they worked. 

“So,” Maria smiled, taking a sip of beer. “You and Joel, huh?” 

“Me and Joel,” you nodded, smiling a little back. “Not too insane, is it?” 

“I mean, the circumstances might be a little odd but otherwise,” she shrugged. “He likes you.” 

“I sure hope so,” you laughed, taking a drink of beer yourself and looking out at the crowd that was gathering to tailgate. The truck across from you was setting up a game of cornhole. Someone a few trucks down had started playing country music at top volume. “I’m a little fucked if he doesn’t at this point.” 

She laughed, too. 

“Look, I’ll be honest,” she said. “I know Joel better than most sisters-in-law probably care to know their brother-in-law. Him and Tommy… You marry one and you get the other, too. Package deal and all that.” 

You nodded slowly, watching the two of them work while talking conspiratorially themselves. 

“I’ve never, not once, seen him show this kind of interest in anyone,” she continued. “Honestly, Tommy and I figured he’d be single forever. Maybe a date here and there but… It never really seemed like a priority for him. He’s never even mentioned a woman before let alone brought her around.

“You seem to make him happy. Really happy. And I want to support him. But… I need to know that you’re in this for the long haul. That man doesn’t get attached lightly but he’s attached to you. Hell, he had me trying to interpret your texts a few weeks back, trying to make sure he didn’t fuck up…” 

You winced. 

“I was dealing with some family stuff,” you said. “I should have just talked to him about it from the get go and…” 

“Hey, I get it,” she cut you off. “Not like you’d been seeing each other long, I wouldn’t have told some guy I’d just met anything all that personal, either. I just want to make sure you care, that you know he’s not just screwing around with you. Not that he’s said that but I know the guy. Tommy knows the guy. This is a first and I’d rather not watch his heart get stomped on.” 

You looked at Joel. He was laughing at something Tommy said, his smile wide and beautiful. You couldn’t help but smile, too. Just looking at the guy made you happy. 

“I’m in it,” you said, still watching him. “Trust me, I’m very in it.” 

“Good,” Maria said. You thought you could hear the smile on her voice. “Because I really do need another girl around these two, they’re insufferable.” 

Once the grill was going, Joel put his arms around your shoulders and led you around the tailgate. Tommy’s set up, you soon realized, was relatively modest. A few people had come with campers and had big TVs set up outside, chairs on rugs out front watching other games from around the country. The two of you stopped and played ladder ball with someone who worked with Joel, him smiling proudly as he introduced you as “his girlfriend,” making your heart soar. You even ran into one of your copywriters as he chugged a beer shirtless with an orange X painted on his chest. 

“Oh shit, hey Boss!” He laughed. “Good to see you! Who’s your friend?” 

“This is my boyfriend, Joel,” you smiled. It was the first time you’d gotten to say that. Joel beamed and the two shook hands. “Joel, this is Steve, one of the copywriters at work.” 

“Want a beer?” Steve asked. “I’ll give you two if you promise to forget you saw me like this.” 

You laughed back. 

“Don’t worry, Steve,” you said. “I’ll be doing my best to forget that, anyway.” 

“So not all these people are going to the game?” You asked as you walked slowly back toward Tommy’s truck. Joel’s arm was draped over your shoulders again. 

“Nope,” Joel said. “People just come out to party. There’ll be a lot of people around the TVs later.” 

“Football is weird,” you scrunched your nose and Joel laughed. “But I’ll still watch it with you.”

“Oh really?” He teased. 

“Yup,” you smiled up at him. “But only because you’re hot.” 

He laughed. 

“Better get in the game time while I can, then.” 

When you made it back to the truck, food was ready (“Still got a lot to learn about grilling a great burger, Tommy,” Joel teased his brother, who just rolled his eyes) and you and Joel lost at cornhole to Tommy and Maria. 

“Do people really play stuff like that all the time?” You gaped at Tommy after he sent another bag directly into the hole on the opposite board. Yours were scattered on the ground around it. 

“We’ve got a set in our backyard,” Tommy said after he punched the air in victory. “You and Joel will just have to practice, don’t know if he can handle me kicking his ass.” 

By the time the game started, you’d almost forgotten that you’d come there to watch a football game, having so much fun in the parking lot outside that it seemed like the main attraction. 

You tried to mimic how other people reacted to the events on the field, not really understanding any of it but having fun watching Joel have fun. It was about half way through the first quarter when Joel leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“You don’t understand any of this, do you?” He asked. 

You winced. You’d tried to watch some informational videos on YouTube and read some basic explainers of the game over the past week but it was like it was in a different language, you hadn’t been able to absorb any of it. 

“Never had anyone to explain it to me as a kid and never hung out with anyone who was into it as an adult,” you replied. “So no, not a damn thing. But it’s still fun!” 

“Here,” he put his hand on your waist and pointed toward the lineup of men on the field. “We’re on offense right now, that means we’re trying to score and we’ve got the ball. It’s second and eight…” 

Joel kindly, patiently, walked you through the basics, going back over things when he could tell you were confused or had forgotten something when it happened on the field. 

“It’s really OK,” you said after a few minutes. “I don’t want you to spend all the time you’re supposed to be having fun talking to me…” 

“Talking to you is fun,” he replied. “I’d rather talk to you all the time than watch any game. And I want you to have fun, too. Which I know you won’t if you don’t understand what’s going on because you feel better when you know things.” 

You looked up at him, at his warm smile and soft eyes and the one curl that had broken away from the rest to start curving over his forehead, and you couldn’t help it. For a moment, the feeling overwhelmed you and it just spilled out of you before you could stop it. 

“I love you,” you said before you realized you said it. 

Then your eyes went wide and your face fell and you scrambled to take it back. It was too soon to be saying this to him, you’d only known the man a few weeks and things were still insanely complicated, you’d barely figured out that you were in a full blown relationship let alone ready to bring something like love into the mix. It didn’t matter that you felt it and that you wanted to say it, it wasn’t the right time yet.

“Shit. Ignore that, please ignore that, pretend I didn’t say anything, I don’t want…” 

“I love you, too,” he cut you off, smiling so big his whole face lit up with it. 

You just blinked at him for a moment. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Yeah, I do. I really, really do.” 

He tipped your hat up and kissed you, his arm sliding around you to pull you flush against his front. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding tight to him, never wanting to stop feeling just like this. 

“Look!” Maria patted your shoulder urgently. “You’re on the kiss cam!” 

You pulled away from Joel just in time to see yourselves on the giant screen and you laughed, going back to kiss him again. 

***

“I’m glad you two seem to have figured your shit out,” Tommy had told him while they set up the grill. “She really does seem great.” 

“She is,” Joel said, watching you talk with Maria, looking so damn pretty in your little skirt and boots. “Fuck, she’s incredible.” 

“Anyone who can actually get you to feel something is a winner in my book,” Tommy replied, hooking up the propane tank. “Not sure what’s thicker, your skull or the space around your heart.” 

Joel laughed but he knew his brother had a point. He hadn’t been in a relationship - a real one - in a very long time. It had been even longer since he’d felt anything close to this for anyone. He’d gone from falling in love with you to just being in love with you and it had happened so quickly it was hard for him to even see it at first. 

He’d just known it when your father had shown up at your door that day. Joel knew what he was after - some other way to manipulate you, he was sure - and it made his blood boil. He had to consciously stop himself from hitting the man. The only reason he didn’t was because he knew it would hurt you if he did. But he knew he had to protect you, had to be the one standing in between you and the man who’d done nothing but neglect and harm you your entire life. 

His whole body burned with it. He wished he could have gone back in time somehow and protected you then, too. Made it so you didn’t have to go through any of it and stand between you and anyone who had ever so much as looked at you wrong. None of them deserved you. Neither did he, for that matter, but he could at least protect you from the worst of them. 

He knew he loved you then. He couldn’t conceive of how anyone could look at you and do anything that would willfully hurt you, how anyone could look at you and see anything but one of the greatest things the world had ever let happen. 

But he didn’t want to scare you off, so he kept it to himself, instead just doing everything he could to take care of you, get you to spend some time with him. 

It turned out, he didn’t need to try that hard. It seemed like you were just as eager to see him as he was to see you. 

You texted him over lunch on a day you were working from home, a picture of all the makings for mac and cheese and a BluRay of Jupiter Ascending, a movie Joel had heard was laughably bad and he’d been meaning to watch at some point. 

“Your place or mine?” You asked. 

Joel smiled. 

“Wherever you are, Beautiful, I’ll be there.”

You asked to come to his place so you could actually get out of your house for a bit and you showed up not long after Joel had gotten out of the shower, a pan of macaroni and cheese ready to go in the oven and a grocery bag over your arm with all the fixings for Bloody Marys. 

“I. Found. Bacon. Vodka,” your eyes were wide and excited. “It’s going to be amazing!” 

You were right, it was amazing. Everything with you was amazing. 

Because he loved you. 

“You told her yet?” Tommy asked as they say next to each other on the gate of his truck during lunch. 

“Told who what?” Joel asked, looking down at his phone for the umpteenth time since his lunch break started. You’d texted him a picture of a rather pathetic looking sandwich. 

“This food truck’s a bust,” you said. “Feeling very let down. I require real food. Dinner?” 

Joel was about to type out a response when you sent a selfie from what had to be a bathroom stall at your office, your shirt unbuttoned an extra button from what it had been when you’d gone your separate ways that morning. 

“In case you needed motivation,” you wrote. 

“Tell your girlfriend that you’re in love with her,” Tommy said. 

Joel frowned and actually looked up from his phone. 

“I didn’t…” 

“Don’t need to say it,” Tommy clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m not blind and I might not be a genius but I ain’t that dumb. You’ve got it bad.”

Joel glared at him for a second. 

“S’too early,” he muttered. “Don’t wanna scare her off.” 

“You’re practically living with this woman,” he said. “She brought steak to your house the other night. Besides the blip, what’s the longest you’ve gone without seeing her since you started dating?” 

Joel was happy that, after the mall incident, Tommy was understanding without Joel needing to be too specific about what happened with your father. He’d just told Tommy “It was a tough family thing, makes our shit look like child’s play.” Tommy just said “Damn, poor girl, shit’s rough” and had only ever called it “the blip” from then on. 

“Just a work day, really,” Joel said. 

“Don’t think it’s too early for shit, man,” Tommy said. “Just don’t fuck it up. And figure out how to tell your kid because I’m shit at keeping secrets.”

Joel sighed and nodded to his brother before texting you back. 

“Never need much motivation with you,” he said. “Can’t let you starve on me. Come over, I’ll grill you a burger.”

When you fell asleep naked in his bed that night, he just watched you breathe, wondering how to tell you how he felt and how to tell his daughter that he was head over heels for her best friend. 

So when you’d all but blurted it out at him at the game, it was a relief. He’d been terrified it would slip out of him for almost two weeks now. That he’d hand you something, you’d say “thank you” and, instead of “you’re welcome” he’d say “I love you.” That he’d kiss you on the way out the door in the morning and instead of “goodbye” it would be “I love you.” That he’d be looking at your perfect face as you rode him and he’d gasp “I love you” as he came deep inside. 

It was a relief to know you felt it, too. It was a relief to say it out loud. It was a relief to feel the sense of security that settled into him at those words, the sense that this wasn’t something that would be easily undone. That this was something he could be safe in feeling, that he could rely on the connection he had with you that had gone from tenuous to vital so fast it made his head spin. 

The rest of the game, he couldn’t keep his hands off of you. You were either perched on his leg or standing right in front of him for the rest of the game, his hands on your waist, pressing his lips into your neck and cheek, each kiss just another “I love you” in his mind. He couldn’t even tell you the score by the end of the game, only knowing that UT won because everyone else around them seemed almost as happy as he was. 

Joel was eager to say his goodbyes to Tommy and Maria when they dropped the two of you off at your apartment. It’s not like he didn’t always want you - he always wanted you - but it was urgent now, a driving need more than a want. 

You, it seemed, were on the same wavelength. The front door was barely closed when you took fistfuls of his shirt and pulled him against you, kissing him deeply as you walked backwards deeper into your home. 

He pulled your hat off first, tossing it on your loveseat on the way back to your bedroom. You went from using his shirt to hold him close to tugging it up and over his head as he did the same with yours. 

In the bedroom, you turned so he was against the bed as you deftly opened his pants and pushed them and his boxer briefs down and off. You nudged him down onto the bed and looked him in the eyes as you slipped your panties down your legs, leaving on the little miniskirt that Joel had so wanted to fuck you in before the game. 

You straddled him, your arms resting on his shoulders, his hands on your back, fingers spread wide to touch as much of you as he could. He slowly, almost reverently, removed your bra, cupping your breasts for a moment before holding onto you again. You aligned your entrance with his cock, the head of him just inside of you. 

He held your gaze, his nose brushing yours, breathing the same air you were. He looked deep in your eyes as you started sinking onto him, your breath hitching as you did. 

“I love you,” he breathed, mouth so close to yours his lips brushed your own when he spoke. 

“Joel,” you managed, your body soft and warm against him as you took him into yourself. “I love you, I…” 

You gasped as he bottomed out within you and he clutched onto you, needing to be as close to you as he could possibly be. 

The two of you just looked at each other for a moment, your skin on his, his cock buried deep within you. 

He realized then that he’d never been inside someone he was in love with before you. He’d tried with Sarah’s mother but her resentment kept any real affection from becoming too deep. Everything before her has been for fun, he hadn’t been looking for anything permanent. No relationship had lasted long enough to actually fall for anyone since. 

It was an intense thing, knowing you loved him back while being a part of you. You always felt incredible, better than anything or anyone else he’d ever felt, but it was different now and he never wanted to be anywhere but with you. 

You took a deep, shaky breath before rising slowly over him. He could feel every inch of you, the tight grip of every ridge, the wet heat of you holding him perfectly inside. He kissed you as you started to ride him, moaning into your mouth, sinking his fingers into your soft skin. 

Your skirt bunched around your hips and you ground your clit against him and he relished it, loving the feeling of you finding your pleasure with his body. 

He met you stroke for stroke until you came over him with a whimper, kissing him deeper, pussy gushing over his cock. 

Joel moved you below him, settling between your thighs, his body still tight to yours for a moment before he separated from you. 

“Joel,” you whimpered, breasts heaving. He slid a hand up your stomach, drinking you in, eyes lingering on the place disappeared into you, your sex swollen and slick. 

“Want to see you,” he panted, moving his hands to the inside of your knees, slipping them over your thighs until one thumb found your clit and the other slipped around your hip to your lower back, your sexy little skirt pushed up around your waist now. “Want to see you come for me.” 

He started driving into you, pulling back almost reluctantly to thrust back as deep as he could reach, watching it move through your body, the ripple of your skin, the bounce of your breasts, the desperate look on your face as he worked your clit, your channel tightening around him. 

“That’s it,” he panted as you ground your hips back against him when he thrust deep. “Are you close, Beautiful? That perfect little pussy about to come for me?”

You nodded and moaned, one of your hands flying to the bed and tangling in the blanket. 

“Good,” he said, all but breathless. “Need you to come all over me, need to feel you come, need to watch you come. Just let go baby, just come for me.” 

He watched your orgasm take hold half a second before he felt it, your face lost in pleasure, your clit throbbing as he felt you come apart around his cock. 

Joel fought to hold his own orgasm off for at least moment, wanting to enjoy your pleasure for as long as he could. But he didn’t last long, thrusting deep and all but collapsing on top of you as the peak of your climax triggered his own. 

Once he’d come down from his high enough to be able to think, he rolled onto his side and took you with him, still buried deep in you, kissing you gently as he held your face in his hand. 

“I love you, Joel,” you said softly. “I’ve never really said that to anybody but I love you.” 

“I love you,” he said, letting the feeling wash over him as he was so impossibly close to you. “I love you so much.” 

As he fell asleep in your bed with you in his arms, he wasn’t sure he’d ever meant anything more. 

Next Chapter

A/N: AHHHH THEY SAID IT!

I just love these two, they're so cute working through their relationship shit. They're getting there, they really are!

Thank you for being here and for following their story. It's been so fun to share with you! Love you!!

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Just Do It

Request: Hi I don’t know if you’re still taking asks and I hate when people ask me stuff when my inbox is closed, but if you are could you please write a Roy Kent x reader with an age gap? That’s literally all I have and I know you touched on it it Superstar and I totally get it if you don’t have time/don’t want to! Love your writing so much and hope your time in Vegas is fun!

Roy Kent x Reader

0.9k words

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, age gap (ages not mentioned, but reader is in their 20s, Roy is early 40s)

A/N: Thanks for the request! I hope you like it ❤️❤️ (also, Vegas was lots of fun, just way too hot for my taste!)

Roy sat in the corner of Ola’s watching you carefully as you chatted with some of the players. You’d been working at Nelson Road for a couple of months now, and he’d fallen hard and fast for you. Of course, people noticed. Rebecca found any reason she could to send you to the coaches’ office. Keeley asked him almost daily if he thought you looked pretty that particular day. Jamie kept leaving Viagra advertisements on his desk. Even Beard gave him a little nudge every time you walked by. It seemed like everyone at the Dog Track knew how he felt except, well, you.

“Watcha lookin’ at Coach?” Jamie stood over Roy, following the older man’s gaze. “Ohhh.”

Roy scowled. “Oh, what?” Roy knew what. He knew exactly what.

Jamie grinned. “Just ask her out already, lad. She’s not gonna say no, I swear.”

“And why is that?” Roy huffed, taking a long swig of his beer.

“Well for one, I bet she was raised to respect her elders.”

A low growl escaped from the depths of Roy’s lungs. “That’s why I’m not going to fucking ask her out. She’s what, like your age? No thanks. I don’t need all the jokes about being old enough to be her dad or asking her to move into a nursing home with me or whatever jokes you’ve been saving in a notebook.”

Jamie shrugged. “I actually write them in the notes app on my phone. Because I’m not an old man.”

“Yeah, you can fucking leave now,” Roy grumbled, giving Jamie a shove.

Before walking away, Jamie called over his shoulder, “Do what Nike says, Coach. Just do it!”

With a grunt, Roy returned to staring at you. His heartbeat stuttered when you looked up from your conversation with Dani to look his way. Something sparkled in your eyes when you caught him staring that made Roy’s throat go dry. It got worse when you got up and walked over to him, plopping your beer on his table, and dropping yourself into the chair across from him.

“How’s it going?” you asked cheerfully, offering him your best smile.

“Not bad,” he mumbled, tapping his own beer bottle. “Yourself?”

You shrugged. “Mostly okay.” There was something almost glum in your expression.

Roy wasn’t used to that; you almost always had a smile on your face. “Fuck’s wrong?”

There was a long moment of the two of you staring at each other, your mouth slightly open, as if you were trying to figure out what to say. Roy’s mind went rapid wondering what it was. Something about a boyfriend? Were you leaving Richmond? Did you know about Roy’s dumb little crush? Did you want him to leave you the fuck alone?

Finally, you let out a sigh. “Right. Um, so I’m going to ask you something, and you’re going to answer, and then we are going to pretend like this conversation never happened. Deal?”

“Depends on the question,” Roy answered, leaning forward.

Your head tilted back and forth, something Roy often saw you do when you were nervous or thinking hard about something. He thought it was fucking adorable, although now it made him nervous.

Your face was beet red as your fingernails scratched the label on your beer bottle. “I just… was wondering why you haven’t asked me out.”

Fuck. Maybe Jamie was right, maybe Roy was just one good scare away from having a fucking heart attack. His jaw slacked a little as he stared at you, not quite sure what to say. But seeing the fear that swam in the eyes he loved to see, he knew he needed to say something.

“What makes you think I was going to?” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The way your shoulders slumped told him that this was the absolute wrong thing to say.

“Oh. Shit.” Your eyes screwed shut. “I am so sorry. I completely misinterpreted things. I’m an absolute knob, thinking that you- and I-” When your eyes opened, Roy swore he saw tears. “Like I said, pretend this never happened.” You shot to your feet, a look of absolute humiliation frozen on your face.

Instinctively, Roy grabbed your wrist, gazing up at you, feeling like his stomach was twisting and untwisting over and over. “Too old,” he mumbled, feeling his own face go red now. “Aren’t I?”

To his surprise, you shrugged. “Dunno. I mean, sure, you’re older than me by a bit. But I don’t really care, if I’m being honest. I dunno, I thought that maybe there was… something.”

Roy licked his lips. Like Nike always said- just do it.

“There is,” he admitted. “At least, for me there is. Something there, I mean.” He ducked his head, ignoring the fact that he still held your wrist in his hand. “I fucking like you.”

A smile replaced your somber expression. “Oh really?” You resumed your seat, sliding your arm back so your hand was in his. “Tell me more.”

Roy glanced down at your hands, a small smirk creeping across his face. “How about I tell you somewhere my team isn’t watching us?” He nodded behind you, where Jamie and Dani and the others were staring at you two with great interest, beaming and holding their breaths.

You raised an eyebrow at Roy. “Roy Kent, are you asking if I want to get out of here?”

“Maybe,” he grunted. “I know a decent place to get a drink. What d’you say?”

Keeping hold of his hand, you stood up and nodded towards the door. “I say let’s do it.”

[teecupangel]

It's me, the ratatouille AU anon again djjshd

The only thing that would make this even better is that Desmond hears US, the player, also. The amount of times I called him babygirl, or pretty little angel, or my special little boy. He'd be both horrified and flattered.

Also calling Juno a gnarly ghost lookin-ass bitch. I'm sorry Desmond, I know this is serious business but I can't look at her for longer than 5 seconds.

Hello, Ratatouille AU nonny! For those unfamiliar with it, here’s the post where Desmond’s ancestors can hear Desmond as he ‘controls’ them.

“Let me get this straight…” Shaun rubbed the bridge of his nose as he tried to understand the Bleeding Episode currently plaguing Desmond this time around, “You hear voices that’s not your ancestors or anyone they might have known. And you know they’re talking to you because…”

“They call me babygirl.” Desmond said calmly.

Too calmly.

Like the calm of a man who had given up all his sanity and has reached a zen state of craziness.

Rebecca furiously looked over all the documents they have about the Bleeding Effect that Lucy had given them.

Shit.

How accurate were these anyway considering Lucy’s true allegiance? 

These could all be fake or some of the important stuff could have been omitted like…

Desmond’s current situation.

“And… what do these voices tell you?” Shaun asked, curious enough to continue even though he could feel a migraine already coming.

“Uuuhh…�� Desmond tilted his head slightly before saying, “Dad’s the worst father in these games and I should just beat the crap out of him… Juno’s a gnarly ghost and wants to enslave people after killing me… uuuhh…”

“Wait, wait, wait, what ‘games’?” Shaun asked.

“Oh.” Desmond blinked, looking like he actually just forgot to tell them that big bombshell, “We’re apparently game characters of this franchise called Assassin’s Creed and… uuuhh… I’m their bestest boi in the modern day setting.”

“Modern day setting…” Shaun repeated before asking, “Are you telling me that our entire existence is… fictional? We don’t exist? We’re just characters in this… video game franchise?”

“Oh crap.” Rebecca mumbled, realizing that Shaun was on the verge of an existential crisis. 

Fuck.

Of course the conspiracy theorist would latch on to that idea almost immediately!

“Shaun-”

“Pretty much.” Desmond shrugged before adding, “If it makes you feel any better, you and Rebecca are pretty much the only regulars of the modern day setting.”

“Oh, so our very existence have already been taken care of then? We’re just little puppets-” 

Rebecca sighed and ignored Shaun’s rant to ask Desmond, “So? Did these voices tell you anything at all on what’s going to happen after we save the world?” 

“Oh, yeah, about that…” Desmond turned to look at Rebecca as he said, “They told me to let the world burn… just to see how it goes and…”

“... as a treat.”

(Let’s be honest, guys, if we were given the ability to talk to Desmond, we’ll be such capricious ‘gods’.)

[catslvrr]

heaven sent — 05. cooking

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You internally cheered as Danielle revealed the plan for today.

“We’re gonna do something more chill today.”

“And what is this ‘chill’ activity you have in mind?”

“Cooking!” She spun around, somehow now wearing an apron that read “Miss Good Lookin’ is Cookin’”.

You stared at her blankly. “Really?”

“Yes.”

She frowned in disapproval as she scavenged through your cabinets and drawers and fridge, only to find them all empty.

“How do you guys live like this?”

You shrugged.

“Guess we have to go grocery shopping then.” She gasped, “This is so exciting, my first ever shopping trip!”

“In that apron?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“…Nothing.”

“So, what exactly are we cooking?” You pushed the shopping cart, watching Danielle who was meticulously observing a jar of pickles.

“I don’t know,” she shook the jar around and cringed at the liquid sloshing around. “What’s your favorite dish?”

“My mom used to make this crazy good chicken noodle soup,” you said, smiling wistfully. “I haven’t had it since… a while.”

“Chicken noodle soup it is then!” She put the jar back on the shelf before making her way to the next aisle with a skip in her step.

“This feels so human. And domestic.” Danielle squeezed your arm, scanning the shelves. “I like it.”

“Yeah,” you stared at her. “Me too.”

“Do you and Minji do this often?”

“Maybe like once every two weeks? We usually just buy some instant noodles, instant rice, spam, some eggs, energy drinks. The essentials. And some snacks too, obviously.”

“Well, she’s in for a surprise today.” She grinned. “Any other stories to tell?”

“Not really, I didn’t go shopping much as a child. I was usually sleeping in.”

“That sounds like you.”

“When I did go though, I’d always ask how to pick the best fruits and vegetables. Felt so proud when mom or dad would approve the one I chose.”

I wonder what they’d think of me now.

“That’s so cute.” Her lips tugged up as she studied you, before throwing various ingredients in the cart. “It must’ve been nice.”

“It was.”

You bit your tongue as you reminisced, tapping your fingers on the handle of the cart.

Danielle continued to toss in ingredients, which you weren’t sure were necessary for chicken noodle soup, but she seemed like she knew what she was doing, and so you just followed her as she bounced around the store.

“Who’s paying for this, by the way?” You were pretty sure you knew the answer, but you held onto the inkling of hope that she would somehow magically pay.

“You are, of course!”

Great.

“Okay!” Danielle rubbed her hands together in anticipation, still wearing the ridiculous apron. “What are we doing, captain?”

“I thought you knew how to cook it?”

“What?” Her hands fell. “It’s your favorite dish, I thought you would know!”

“It’s been years,” you groaned. “Let’s just watch a YouTube tutorial.”

The two of you leaned on the kitchen counter as you both focused on the tutorial.

“Okay,” you drawled. “Doesn’t seem too hard.”

Danielle nodded excitedly. “You take the onions, I’ll take the carrots.”

The two of you began dicing the vegetables.

“You know,” she started. “I remember learning about how this woman sued this grocery store for slipping on a grape. It was in Australia, I think.”

“Huh,” you said. “Maybe you are Australian after all. Did she win the case?”

“Yeah, I think she won like a hundred thousand or something. But get this, the store appealed it and she-”

She abruptly stopped when she heard you sniffling, and rushed over to check on you.

“Are you okay? Did the chicken noodle soup bring back bad feelings? Or was it the woman slipping on the grape-”

Your laughter interrupted her rambling.

“What’s so funny?” She pouted. “Why were you crying?”

“It was the onions, you idiot.” You pointed at the chopping board.

“Oh,” she stood there awkwardly.

“I appreciate the concern, though,” you teased, continuing to dice the onions with your eyes squinted.

“Whatever,” she blushed, turning around and beginning to add the vegetables to the pot.

The two of you continued to discuss whether or not the woman who slipped on the grape truly deserved compensation while finishing the recipe.

“Tada!” Danielle placed a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of you. “Try it.”

Her gaze clung to you as you took the first bite, watching as your eyebrows shot up.

My mom would love you.

“It’s good,” you said softly. “Really good.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

“You mean us.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Minji’s gonna be jumping in joy when she gets back. I think this is our first proper cooked meal in, like, months.”

“You guys really need to get a better diet.”

The two of you continued to eat as you engaged in aimless conversation, your stomach and heart warm. You eventually finished up and washed the dishes before walking Danielle to the door, ending up in a familiar place.

She leaned on the doorframe with a twinkle in her eyes. “How was today?”

“My stomach is happy,” you said. “So I am, too.”

Her lips curved up in delight. And like always, her hand reached out to squeeze yours and she pulled you in for a brief hug.

“Do you wanna stay tonight? We can watch a movie or something,” you mumbled when you separated, scratching your cheek.

For a split second, her smile faltered and an unknown emotion flashed in her eyes. She laughed it off, squeezing your hand again.

“Are you getting attached to me now?” She grinned cheekily.

“What? No,” you averted your gaze, cheeks heating up. “Just thought you’d like to continue your human cosplay.”

“Maybe tomorrow.” You were unsure of what to make of the indecipherable look in her eyes. “Ask me again tomorrow.”

You nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll see you?”

“I’ll see you,” she repeated, before turning around and disappearing.

You hated to admit it, but she was right. She was growing on you, and the walls you had spent so long building up were beginning to crumble.

(“Bro,” Minji had said later that night, soup dribbling down her chin. “If you don’t give your girlfriend a kiss for this godly dinner, I will.”

“Will do, boss,” you rolled your eyes. “Enjoy it, because we probably won’t have another home-cooked meal for a while.”)

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[eisforeidolon]

Question: [tells story about her father who passed away shortly after the show ended and how she got her dog shortly before that and therefore on rewatch related to Sam with Miracle in the finale] During that episode my dad kept asking me, like, 'Oh my God,' - the question is lighter than the introduction, he asked me, like - 'that dog has such great chemistry with the boys, like how do they do this? Is that their dog?' He wanted to know what it was like, what it's like to have a dog on set?

Jared: Amazing. I'm sorry for your loss. I'm glad y'all had that together. With the dog who played Miracle, they're very well trained dogs, you know? They're trained - and we've had dogs in episodes throughout the years. And so the chemistry between an animal and an actor on set? Is really whether or not the actor or actress feels comfortable with whatever the animal is. Whether it's a horse or a dog or a cat or

Auudience shouts: a snake!

Jared: A what? A spade? A snake! Fuck that! [laughs] Yeah. So I have a chicken coop down in Austin, well, Gen and I have a chicken coop. And got a picture of a huge snake - maybe she'll post it or I'll post it - in our chicken coop laying on top of the eggs. Not eating them, but just waiting to see if, like, a rat came? To eat the rat. It wasn't a poisonous snake, but still would mess you up. I'm like, man, I dunno. But with Miracle, as a for instance, Jensen and I both love dogs, y'know? And so bringing a dog to set, it's like, 'Ohhh!' Like I'll walk down the street and someone's walking a dog and I'll be like, 'Can I pet your dog?!' Like who is this weird lookin' dude. And so it was more just, they introduce you first, and they teach you certain things - like they teach you how that dog has learned to come or to sit or to stay. And you'll do it in character, but the dog - dogs are all energy? Like they just feel if you're scared, they feel if you're excited, they feel if you're friendly. And I think Jensen and I were just so happy to be around a dog on set? Like I had to look at his face for fifteen years, I was like, oh, at least I get a pretty dog. I'm tired of Ackles. And so it was great, it was great to have that pup there. Thank you for sharing your story, I'm sorry for your loss.

Jared: What's up, Susan?

New Question: Hi! So did you just call me Susan? It's [?] on my pass and I [?] -

Jared: I know, that was the joke, because you crossed out s-a-n. You didn't get the joke! I just called Jensen ugly, I'm not being serious right now!