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anon-188 · 3 days ago

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pairing: AJ x f!reader | genre: fluff 🤍 | wc: 1.5k

summary: you were determined to make an old fashioned, you really were. but eagerness doesn’t always translate into success. good thing AJ knows how to step in—hands first, mouth second.

warnings: domestic tension, soft teasing, suggestive language, low heat, playful!AJ, neck kisses, fluff, established relationship, light spice undertone, mild explicit language, alcohol use.

a/n: here's some fluff—well, my version of it anyway. needed something soft to balance out the absolute filth of my last post. don't worry though, there's a good chance an alternative version of this one is already in the works ;) enjoyyy ♡

→ alt. version ❤️‍🔥 (coming soon!)

It was late—the kind of late that blurred time, where the world outside the bar felt nonexistent. Jake had closed up hours ago, but that never meant leaving. Not for this crew. Upstairs, the guys were still going strong, voices carrying through the bar in bursts of laughter and too-loud arguments over shit no one would remember tomorrow. Cigars were being passed, half-finished bottles lined the table, and no one was keeping track of anything—least of all how far past their limit they were.

But AJ? AJ always knew when to disappear.

He’d wait for the noise to settle, just enough, then slip away. The others wouldn’t notice—wouldn’t care. Because they already knew where he was going. Where he always went once the chaos quieted down. You.

Sometimes it was just behind a corner, where he’d press you against the wall, mouth brushing your ear just to tell you how good you looked. Other times, it was up on the rooftop, where the air was cooler, quieter—and his hands didn’t even try to behave.

And while you loved those moments—his hunger, the way he touched you like he couldn’t help it—you also loved his sweet side. Like tonight.

You were standing behind the bar with AJ, trying (and very clearly failing) to make an Old Fashioned on your own.

“Wait. What?” you asked, brows pinched as you held a glass already half full of ice.

“Baby, no,” AJ said, chuckling low as he reached over and gently took the glass from you.

He tossed the ice into the sink and set the empty glass off to the side. “Ice comes later, and this is the wrong glass for it anyway,” he added with a smile like he wasn’t completely calling you out.

You didn’t respond, not immediately. But he caught the way your tongue pushed against the inside of your cheek—your tell. That small, silent signal you always gave when you were trying really hard not to get annoyed. You’d told him you wanted to do it yourself, that it couldn’t be that hard.

And you meant it. He knew that. You were eager, always willing to learn—and he loved that about you. But he also knew it made you stubborn as hell.

Still, his smile stayed on his face, completely unbothered—even when you sighed and crossed your arms, eyes narrowing at the now empty glass.

"Come here," he said, nodding as his gaze finally caught yours again. "I'll show you."

He reached for you, gentle but firm, and you resisted—just enough to make a point. But it didn’t last. It never did. You gave in, a smile tugging at your lips before you could stop it.

AJ pulled you closer until your back was pressed to his chest, his arm wrapped loose around your waist. You felt him lean forward, reaching past you with that effortless confidence to grab the right glass—a lowball.

You hummed under your breath, and he laughed softly behind you as he set it down in front of you. He moved again, his arm grazing yours as he reached for the bottle of simple syrup.

“Start with this,” he murmured against your ear as he handed it to you. “Just a little.”

You tilted it carefully, pouring slow, while he watched over your shoulder—his voice low and close. “That’s good.”

Setting the bottle down, you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, but he was already reaching past you again. “Now,” he said, grabbing the small bottle of bitters, “a few dashes of this. Over the sugar.”

You followed his instructions, wrist flicking carefully as the bitters splashed into the glass, blooming dark against the syrup. AJ didn’t say anything—just chuckled softly as you carefully tapped it once, twice, three times before you set the bottle aside.

Then came the muddler. He set it gently in your hand. “Mix it—just enough to dissolve the sugar.”

Your brows furrowed with focus as you got to work, only for both of his hands to find your hips, fingers settling into his favorite spot.

“Easy, baby,” he said, voice warm and teasing. “It’s not going anywhere.”

A soft laugh slipped from you, and your movements relaxed. The mix started to come together, sweet and spiced, and when you were done, you set the muddler aside with a small clink.

“Now you can put in the ice,” he said, lips brushing your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes, half-smiling, and dropped the ice in piece by piece.

Next came the bourbon. He unscrewed the top, handing you the bottle.

“Slow. I’ll tell you when.”

The amber liquid slid smoothly over the ice, your pour slow, just like he said. His hand came around, tapping your wrist.

“Right there.”

He set the bottle aside for you, his touch wandering lower—slow and unhurried—as he leaned in again, pressing another kiss to your shoulder, then one higher, near your neck.

“Now stir,” he said. “Gently.”

Careful and smooth, you stirred the drink as AJ’s fingers traced lazy shapes against your waist the entire time.

Finally, he handed you the orange peel. “Last step—twist it over the glass. Then drop it in.”

You did as he said, the scent of citrus rising faintly in front of you. Then, you dropped it into the glass.

As you studied your handiwork, you huffed out a laugh—proud of the cocktail. You grabbed the glass and turned to face him fully, holding it out. He took it, fingers brushing yours—drawn out on purpose.

Your hands dropped to your hips as you watched him take a sip, eyes scanning his face for a reaction—though with AJ, that was nearly always a lost cause.

“Thoughts?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, teasing.

He lowered the glass slowly, already smirking. “Delicious.”

You arched a brow. “You’re just saying that.”

“No,” he replied, smirk deepening, eyes full with mischief. “This is the best Old Fashioned I’ve ever had. Swear.”

His grin widened as your eyes narrowed, suspicious but amused. Still, you rolled them anyway, shaking your head.

“What?” he said, voice lazy and teasing. “You don’t believe me?”

You held your ground, giving him that look—the “serious” one that made him laugh more often than not.

“You want to taste it?” he added, that playful look never leaving him.

“Yeah, I do,” you said quickly—ready to call him on his bullshit.

He nodded once, lifted the glass, and took another slow sip—eyes still locked on you like he was savoring the drink and the moment in equal measure. Then, without missing a beat, he lowered the glass and kissed you—his lips cool and sweet with the remnants of bourbon and bitters. You kissed him back for half a second before breaking into a laugh against his mouth.

He pulled back, his smile spreading wide across his lips. “Is that not what you meant?” he asked, entirely too pleased with himself.

You flashed him another look—part amused, part unimpressed—but your lips were already twitching as you grabbed the drink from his hand and took a small sip.

Your eyebrows raised slightly. To your surprise—it was actually good.

“See?” he said, already smug. “Better hope Jake doesn’t catch you pouring like that—he’ll have to fire Lili on the spot.”

“Shut up,” you said under your breath as you gave his shoulder a half-hearted shove.

He laughed, catching your hand in his—then gently guided it up and around his neck as he slid the glass from your grip, setting it on the bar behind you.

His mouth found yours again—softer this time, but like he meant it. Because he did. He always did. Your other arm came up slowly, looping around his neck as well, pulling him closer until there wasn’t much space left between you at all.

After a moment you pulled back slightly, lips still hovering close to his. “Thank you for teaching me,” you murmured, softly.

AJ’s eyes dropped to your mouth, then back up. “Anytime,” he said, voice low and full of suggestion. “But if that’s your way of asking for another lesson…”—his hands slid down to your hips, then roamed slowly over your body, fingers bold—“I’ve got a few things I could show you.”

Before you could answer, he kissed you—quick, then slower. His mouth lingering just long enough to make your breath catch before he dipped lower, brushing open-mouthed kisses down your neck. One after another, light, fast, and teasing.

By the third kiss, you were already laughing—shoulders jerking as you tried to wiggle away. Your elbow bumped the glass behind you, nearly knocking it over.

“AJ!” you yelped, breathless, half-scolding as your elbow moved dangerously close to the glass again. “We’re gonna knock it over.”

“Good,” he murmured against your neck—lips brushing your skin as he grinned. “Gives me a reason to stay down here a little longer.” Then he kissed you again—slow and warm, like the rest of the world could wait, like being here with you was the only thing that mattered.

Because in his mind? It was.

please do not repost, copy, or claim my work as your own.

tag list: @alealuvshayden @haydenchristensenisbae @sythethecarrot

(my mentions have been a little glitchy lately, so if it’s not tagging you, let me know!!)

if you want to be tagged in my future posts, just let me know (comment or message me). i’m happy to do it! :)

links: materlist

#aj takers #hayden christensen #aj takers x reader #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen fluff #aj takers fluff #aj x reader #aj takers fanfiction #takers movie #takers 2010

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nerdygaymormon · 21 hours ago

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John 20 - Doubting Thomas : Maybe Thomas was the Faithful One

Jesus was crucified by the Romans on a Friday and his body laid in a sepulcher. Because Saturday was the Sabbath, Mary Magdelene waited until Sunday morning to attend to the corpse, except she finds the body is missing. She runs to tell the apostles Peter & John, and they hurry to the sepulcher to find the linen cloths that Jesus had been wrapped in were there, but no Jesus. They left and went back to their home.

Mary stays and weeps, she looks again into the sepulcher and sees 2 angels who ask why she is crying. When she turns around, she sees Jesus but mistakes him for the gardener until he calls her by name at which point she recognizes him.

That same day, Sunday evening, 10 of the remaining apostles (Thomas was absent) were fearfully hiding behind locked doors, and Jesus appeared to them. When Thomas returns, the other apostles announce they have seen Jesus. Thomas replies that until he sees the print of the nails in Jesus' hands and thrust his hands into the wound on Jesus' side, he will not believe that Jesus lives.

Eight days later, the disciples were gathered together again behind closed doors, but this time Thomas was with them. Jesus appears and says to Thomas to look at Jesus' hands, and for Thomas to reach out his hand and thrust it into Jesus' side so that he would be believing. Thomas answered, "My Lord and my God." Jesus proclaims that because he had seen Jesus is why Thomas believes, and blessed are those who believe even though they haven't seen.

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The Sunday of Jesus' resurrection, the apostles were hiding out of fear. Why wasn't Thomas fearful & hiding with them? Where was he, what was he doing?

To the 10 apostles hid in the locked room, Jesus' first words to them are, "Peace be with you." Jesus then gives them a mission, "as my Father hath sent me, even so send I you." Then Jesus gives them the Holy Spirit by breathing on them.

For 2000 years, Thomas has been called "Doubting Thomas" because he didn't believe that Jesus had risen from the dead until Thomas actually saw Jesus with his own eyes. The thing is, that's true of the other 10 apostles as well, they believed because Christ appeared to them.

Was Thomas being unreasonable? Would we have been any different?

Thomas didn't give into the peer pressure from the other apostles, he didn't go along just because it was the popular opinion. He wanted evidence.

And what was Thomas doing on that Sunday while the other apostles were hiding? The Bible doesn't say, but maybe he was visiting other followers of Jesus, mourning with them, checking on them, reminding people of Jesus' teachings. Perhaps while the others were hiding, Thomas was working, he was being brave. We don't know.

Eight days later and the apostles are again in a place with locked doors. Ten of the apostles had seen Jesus and He had given them a mission and given them the Holy Ghost and yet they're still hiding behind the locked doors. And we say Thomas was the one full of doubt?

Jesus appears and again offers peace and he offers Thomas the proof he asked for, he says for Thomas to feel the wounds. Thomas doesn't, he simply says, "My Lord and my God." Calling someone "Lord" is treasonous because it's saying Caesar wasn't Lord, so his statement of belief was stronger than the other 10 apostles.

I think it's also important to see that Jesus was willing to offer what Thomas needed in order to believe. Jesus doesn't condemn Thomas for not believing until he had proof. Jesus didn't say that Thomas shouldn't have asked for proof and should have simply believed. Most people won't get to see the resurrected Christ with His wounds, Jesus says they are blessed for believing. It isn't a dig at Thomas or the other apostles, it's a statement that other believers will also be blessed.

—————————

What if the reasonable and faithful thing to do is to ask for some proof, or at the very least to acknowledge the questions, the pain & suffering.

It took another 8 days before Thomas was given the proof he needed, but he stayed. Even while not knowing, he didn't run away and abandon them. To stay when it's hard, that feels very faithful to me. Thomas stayed even when he didn't know how things would turn out, he kept doing the work even when it didn't seem to be going their way.

—————————

Queer people do these things. In an act of bravery, we come out from behind the closet door. We love and we work for justice and peace even when it's hard. Some of us stay in a church which doesn't really make room for us or even works against our interests. We're asked by religious people to accept limitations and restrictions they wouldn't accept for themselves, things which seem really unreasonable. We don't have to believe them, it's not faithless to ask God for proof, to ask if these things are really what is required of us.

And if we get an answer that differs from what other non-queer people are preaching, it's okay to hold to our proof, to our answers. Thomas wasn't swayed just because he expressed an unpopular opinion. Queer people know they're queer and don't bend to the opinion of others just to fit in, we come out and pronounce our truth.

As a queer person in the United States right now, it's easy to be fearful, to despair, to want to hide and protect ourselves. It's okay to have doubts about the future or to feel hopeless about our situation. Show up like Thomas who had doubts and questions, but was willing to be with his community. Thomas was loved, and so are we. We can have peace. Thomas' work in those 8 days weren't too small and insignificant, it mattered to the people he met with. When we show up for each other, it matters. Have faith in yourself and the things you know, and have hope for a better future.

#queer faith #queer scriptures

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kelltonic · 2 days ago

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★Frank Castle Heacanons☆

First post on this account!! (*≧∀≦*)

A/N: Hi!! This is my first post to this account. I’ll make a rq intro to me and what my account will entail in a while, but just know it will contain a lot of Frank - probably no smut though, I can’t write it (´∀｀*). There aren’t really any warnings or notes for this post, it’s pretty self explanatory. I’ll probably write a lot of headcanon posts, so request who you’d like to see or what topic they should be on!! I’m fine with writing for most marvel characters, and overtime you’ll see what other fandoms I drift towards.

CW: A tad bit hurt but just barely. Very brief mentions of canon typical violence. Some fluff and just general headcanons - completely gender neutral for relationship hc’s (*'▽'*)

WC: 1195 Words (but you can pick and choose what you want to read)

→ Relationship Tendencies ♡

Established relationship:

- Frank is unintentionally distant at times, sometimes physically, sometimes mentally. Obviously due to the mass amount of trauma (physical and emotional) and his overall personality, he drifts. Sometimes mid conversation he’ll lose focus, borderline dissociating until he’s snapped back to reality by whoever he’s talking to. Then of course there are the times he is genuinely dissociating, going days at a time in an automatic state of survival, just repeating his daily routine while being in the back of his mind.

But then there’s you. The one thing anchoring him back down to the present. You’re one of - if not the only - constant in his life. Every time he feels himself falling back into the spiralling mess of his thoughts, he holds onto to you. Sometimes literally, every so often you’ll just feel a hand on your shoulder as you’re doing work or warm arms wrapping around your waist as you’re cooking.

However, sometimes he struggles with even the simple gesture as sitting next to you on the couch. The fact that you’re there, with him, despite all the atrocities he’s committed? It’s wrong. He stubbornly refuses to believe you really chose to be there.

Is he subconsciously threatening you into staying? Are you scared of him and just really good at masking it?

But then you hold his hand. You simply hug him. You reassure him, because by now you can tell what he’s thinking. By now you know that no matter how much distance he puts between you, you need to keep hold of him.

First meeting scenario: (Okay this may have drifted from a headcanon to a short story… but whatever)

- You were his neighbour, politely introducing yourself when you’re unlocking your door and he happens to be adding extra locks onto his door. At first glance it may seem like an odd first thing to do when you move somewhere, but it’s New York. if anything you respect the man for prioritising his safety. Despite the real reason of him not wanting any unwanted guests breaking in and discovering his extensive arsenal. But you were unaware of course, so as far as you knew he was just a cautious man - a decent first impression.

Then every so often you’d pass him in the stairwell or in the hallway, progressively building more conversation each interaction. It got to a point where you were comfortable enough to knock on his door when you realise you lost your keys and were incapable of getting into your own apartment. Even if it was still a little humiliating that you had to ask him to help you break into your own apartment. He let out a small huff that you could only slightly perceive to be a chuckle, which eased your embarrassment a small amount. This turned into the longest interaction you had with him, apologising profusely for bothering him and offering a drink in gratitude. He had to accept, he couldn’t help wanting to stay by your side for as long as you allowed him.

Over time these little hangouts where you’d get a couple drinks, complain about the tenants upstairs constantly stomping around, sometimes even have dinner together, evolved into a near daily occurrence. And from there things only progressed further.

Until he realised what was happening. And he couldn’t allow that. He couldn’t allow you to have a target painted on your back for affiliation.

So daily drinks progressed to weekly… to monthly… until he nearly entirely cut you off. You had no clue as to why. Why he suddenly moved away over night. why he suddenly abandoned you.

After the first month of no pick ups from the phone or text responses, you just started leaving him messages. Voicemails of what happened during your day; the good, the shitty, even the occasional odd. He became a journal for you, as you lost all expectations of him actually hearing you. He very well could’ve deleted your number, or even gotten a new phone. Maybe he was dead. You couldn’t tell, but no morgue or hospital claimed a ‘Pete Castiglioni’ or a John Doe.

Until, you heard sloppy knocking at the door. Not expecting anyone, you got up from the couch and approached the door, hearing heavy breathing and wheezing. You hesitated to open the door, frightened of the possibility of a criminal or unstable person on the other side. It was only when you heard an uncomfortably familiar voice struggle to say your name. You froze. For what felt like a lifetime, you were paralysed in shock, and maybe even slight anger. It was only when he repeated, with more volume, that you could really hear the pain in his voice.

You reached for the handle, and there he was. Covered in blood and open wounds, leaning against the doorframe while clenching his side. You were liable to slap him, but instead you stuttered out the obvious questions of “are you okay?” “What happened?”

“Why didn’t you just call back?”

A/N: You can finish that however you want, it started getting far too long for a headcanons post lol

Fluff/Little behaviours:

- When he finally gets comfortable enough with you, he gets very physically affectionate. Usually in more subtle ways, but sometimes he won’t care to give you personal space (unless you actually told him to give you some - in which he would absolutely back off). In public, he’ll range from the occasional forehead kiss to the hovering behind and holding you to his chest. He can’t help but keep you close, it’s the easiest way for him to ground himself. But also the easiest way to keep you safe.

- He’s surprisingly good at cooking (which is canon), but he makes sure you know it. He wants you to see the skills he has that aren’t violent. Aren’t bloody. Until you’re talking about his steaks.

→ Independent Habits ♪

- He’s a really slow reader. Not because he doesn’t read at all, it’s consistently portrayed that he much rather reads a book than scroll the internet or something. It’s more because when he was in the military, he wanted to enjoy the little time he had when he wasn’t doing anything. He wanted a distraction, something time consuming that would seperate him from the world and the atrocities he would commit. So, he trained himself to read slowly, helping him absorb every little detail in a book as well as minimising the amount of books he would need to have access too.

Or alternatively,

- He’s a really fast reader. When his children (mostly his daughter) would recommend books, whether they were school books or personal interests, he would have to get through them in as little free time as he had. He needed something to connect with his kids to as he spent such little time with them over long periods of time due to deployment. So he learnt to read as quickly as possible while also absorbing as much information as possible. This continued when Leo (Lieberman) would recommend books to him, such as Life of Pi. Books were just the easiest way to make conversation and discover shared interests with (his) kids.

- Sometimes after spending days consecutively not speaking, he’ll choke up when trying to say something. Even just a simple “thanks” to the shopkeeper or something comes out as a croak. It’s one of the few times he feels slightly embarrassed lately.

Post Writing:

A/N: I was planning on adding more Independent Habits but I ran out of ideas/motivation (*´-`) - I felt funny putting the fluff relationship headcanons after that little story (´-ω-`)

please fill my requests with ideas/scenarios you’d like to see!! I need prompts to thrive lmao.

Started: 6th of May, 2025

Completed: 7th of May, 2025

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nyxieinshadows · 2 days ago

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「壊れた」- Ran Haitani X Reader X Haruchiyo Sanzu

Summary:Their marriage was built on passion—and destroyed by silence.When Ran Haitani asks for a divorce, she’s forced to confront the love she tried to bury, the pain she never healed from, and the man she was never ready to let go of. But sometimes, the most dangerous kind of heartbreak is the one that never truly ends…

Your shared life was routine—until that night when Ran made an unexpected proposal. He wanted a divorce.

You had refused, unwilling to let go, but he was resolute, weary of the life you both led. The nights you ignored him in bed, the days you pushed him away because of the grim reality tied to Bonten…

He’d come home late, clothes soaked in blood, the metallic scent seeping into your lungs. Yet, you never dared to question his work. You knew—Bonten was a vile place, a life entangled in crime and death. If any of it reached the authorities, Ran would be on the gallows, and you’d spend your days behind bars.

Being with Ran meant constant fear. Your nightmares were filled with visions of enemies slicing through the tattoo on his neck. You loved him—perhaps too much—but couldn’t bear the thought of witnessing his death.

When he shoved the divorce papers across the dinner table, you had no choice but to sign. There was no salvaging the shattered bond. Divorce was the only path to a better life for both of you.

He offered you a portion of his wealth, but you declined. Why keep a memento from someone you were trying to forget? You aimed to return to a normal life—free from crime, blood, and Ran Haitani.

Life moved on. One day, you visited an upscale Tokyo restaurant for lunch. And there he was, seated across from you with another woman.

Damn him. That woman was to replace you, to marry him, leaving you in the past.

Your heart ached, every part of you that he’d touched burned. Tears welled up, and your lips trembled.

As you tried to escape his gaze, his voice stopped you.

“Are you okay? What are you doing?”

Before you knew it, his fingers gripped your wrist, pulling you toward him. But your eyes were fixed elsewhere—on the ring on his finger. You hadn’t expected him to love again so soon. You cursed yourself, your thoughts, and the heart that still beat for him.

“Did you leave me for her? Was she the reason for our divorce? Tell me, Ran!”

Your sudden words couldn’t capture the immense pain twisting inside you. You wished to strangle that woman in front of Ran, to make him feel the agony you endured.

“All the time you pushed me away, she was there to comfort me!”

You couldn’t believe your love had ended, that she was to take your place. It disgusted you. Ran disgusted you to the point where you wanted to drown him in his own blood for the love you still bore.

“So that’s it, Haitani! You never understood that I was afraid of losing you! You can’t blame me! I was always by your side. I pushed you away because I didn’t want to lose you! And what did you do? You never tried to understand me!”

You couldn’t allow yourself to appear pathetic before him any longer. You wanted to leave your old self there, amidst the restaurant’s bustle, within Ran Haitani’s purple gaze, and the notes of classical music playing.

You had to abandon the part of you filled with memories of Ran. You had to bury his kisses, your bodies’ criminal dances, and all the memories right there.

Your relationship with that man was nothing but a colossal failure—a costly one that taught you a valuable lesson: never give your heart to someone unworthy.

“I hope you’ve learned from this failure, Ran. You can be with the whores drawn to your money and power… But I swear, one day you’ll show up at my door, begging me to return… But it’s too late, Haitani. You know why? Because you don’t deserve any love!”

Your words struck Ran like a slap, a reminder that by letting you go, he made the worst decision of his life. Indeed, no one could replace you for Haitani.

He could never find another like you in the filthy world of Bonten.

Regret was futile, and Ran realized his mistakes too late. As he began to see you in that woman’s eyes, imagined your lips kissing him, and your hands touching his body…

But you were no longer there to return to him. He realized too late that by breaking your heart, he had destroyed his own.

Perhaps you were right—he never deserved your love.

And he realized this mistake far too late.

So late that you were no longer there for him…

Because Sanzu had already won.

……………..to be continued……………

This story might continue—I’m posting it here as a sort of test run. I’m still getting the hang of Tumblr, so bear with me as I figure things out.

If you took the time to read this, I’d really appreciate hearing your thoughts. Your feedback means a lot and helps me know whether I should keep going or not.Also, English isn’t my first language, so there might be some grammar mistakes here and there. I hope that doesn’t take away from the story.

Thank you for being here!

🤍

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hanana-myc · 2 days ago

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WHY STOLITZ WORK (at least for me)

First thing first im gonna start with season one and working my way towards sinsmas since the way the episodes show stolitz matter for storytelling and psychological state of their characters.

ALRIGHT lets start

Season 1 episode 1

in these episodes they establish Blitz and Stolas relationship, both using each other for their own wants and needs. For Stolas he wants someone to date and for Blitz he just needs Stolas grimoire.

Season 1 episode 2

This episode focuses on Stolas, we get to know him more than a horny powerful owl, we learn about his fucked up relationship with his wife and get to know Octavia.

Now we know he is a prince of hell, a powerful being, forcefully married to Stella which screams at him at any chance she gets, verbally abusing him. Octavia being this light in his life, the only good thing to come out of that toxic relationship, but she is saddened by (in her eyes) her dad’s new family, thinking he would forget about her ands leave her forever for him.

We watch this 17 year old confused and scared about this huge change with her life, trying to navigate the best she can while still thinking its her fault that her parents are getting divorced.

We see this (up until now) prince who was always happy, now fragile by simply talking to his daughter about his life, about how truly miserable he was in his marriage.

And the worst part is that none of them really have any fault in how they are acting, they are just two broken people trying to navigate life the best they can, with their errors and traumas but still trying to be happy.

Season 1 Episode 3

In this episode we get a little more of insight into Blitz character, we get to learn about his attachment issues, through Verossika that he actually dated her.

Throughout this episode we see bits and pieces of how Blitz really feel, his fight with Loona was showing us he actually cares too much, his face after Loona screamed at him that she didn’t need him subtly showed us that he feels like he needs to be useful to be loved and cared for.

Theres not much in this episode that outright tell us, this just lays the ground for future episodes

Season 1 episode 5

In this episode we watch Stolas “embarrass” Blitz within the harvest moon festival, at one point we even see Blitz slightly blush at Stolas advances. We learn time and time again about the line that Blitz draws between him and Stolas.

In this episode we get to learn about Striker, which quickly becomes Blitz’s friend with him even offering Striker a job at IMP (which means he became important enough to mean family to Blitz), later in the episode we learn Striker true intentions, to kill Stolas.

This is why I think this episode was so important, it showed us how much Blitz cared for the bird, Striker offered everything Blitz would ever want if he truly despised Stolas like he made us think.

But thats not the truth, he loves Stolas and would never betray him even if he went against someone who he almost considered family.

Because why would you have the trouble to risk your life against someone for something you “supposedly want”, if he truly despised the deal and the prince he would simply side with Striker, kill the owl and be free with the grimoire.

The truth is that Blitz likes the deal, he loves Stolas and is desperately looking for his love care and affection even if he doesn’t let it show.

He has been through so much trauma he became this desperate for love but still cant let anyone know how he truly feels because then everyone who he ever loved AND HIM will get hurt.

He hates himself so much to the point that even if he is starving for affection he just pushes everyone away because he truly feels that he is never enough.

Getting caught in this endless torture.

He cant let anyone know about how much he care for everyone, after all to him he is just this piece of shit person who could never do anything right and in the end everyone will eventually leave him or worse.

Im gonna talk more about this in later episodes since right now we don’t have much context clues, but THIS is why The Harvest Moon Festival is such an important episode, it LITERALLY shows us from the beginning Blitz true feelings.

Season 1 episode 6

This episode…. im already seeing the paragraphs for it jesus christ.

This episode shows us how truly fucked up in the head Blitz is, how much he pushes everyone away and the first visual clue about how much he loves Stolas.

This episode is genius at showing, not telling, this. Like with many Stolitz core interactions, this is why i think this couple is so well developed and so many people cant see it and as im writing this, their story is not even finished.

Back to the episode.

Here we get a literal glimpse into Blitz’s mind, a muddy place, ugly and twisted. Blitz wearing a clown costume the whole time he is in this mud, getting harassed by his own mind telling him what he doesn’t want to hear.

This clown clothes dare i say, are a representation to how much he still feels like that imp from the circus, made and wanting to please other, and that is a visual cue to show us how much he still cares for everybody, which then lead us to SE2EP6 the Fizz and Blitz episode.

Now we directly hear how badly he pushes others away from him, scared that them will hurt him and he would hurt them, but still craves for affection.

This episode show us, if The Harvest Festival wasn’t enough, that Blitz LIKES the deal they are in and he willingly goes to Stolas. After all the bird give him the love that he needed while he can still lie to himself that he doesn’t care for it.

It shows us how much Stolas means in Blitz life, the representation of the prince being in this only clean part of his mind but still being above him, this is the clue of some of their power dynamic and classism that Blitz got taught from early age. (this will come up later in Apology Tour SE2EP9)

The imp being clean only when he is with the bird is a representation of the tranquility only Stolas gives him, the chains and shackles are the deal he made since he cant leave from it.

But he doesn’t want to anyway.

Moxxie literally tells us how deep his impostor syndrome for love is, “he cant fathom the possibility of loving him but still crave it as well”.

We watch as his clown clothes becomes the usual clothes as he crawls up the stairs towards the prince, I see it as a way to communicate that Blitz doesn’t have the need to keep up this carefully made clown persona in front of the bird, he can just be himself.

The only one that deep down Blitz know he might be the only one to truly know him and accept for who he is.

But theres so many things at stake, how could he ever show this to this prince who is much better then him and deserve so much more then this fucked up little imp.

How could he show this to Stolas and get him dirty with the same sludge that dirties him. He just needs to enjoy while it lasts, because he makes himself believe that he is unlovable and eventually everyone will know how fucked up he is, so in the end people will always leave him.

So why not scare away them first, they will be much less hurt by it.

But he just can’t bring himself to do it with Stolas, the bird is just too important for him.

And maybe this is one of the things that shows us Blitz always cared too much, even if other would hate him and he will eventually be left alone, he would always do it with the well-being of others in mind.

Because he truly hates himself and think he is a monster to everyone and everything.

There’s so many things this episode shows us, how many thing hidden in the context that makes this in my opinion the best episode in the whole show, it lays the ground for future episodes, and they make it subtle as to not throw so many information all at once in our faces.

Season 1 Episode 7

This episode is kinda weird for me, but it actually develops the two so much. It makes Stolas and Blitz slowly realize what they feel to each other.

First things first im gonna talk about this episode on what it shows us, then im gonna talk a bit about my interpretation for it (i swear theres some fun stuff in it ((i dont think anyone have interpreted like i did)))

In this episode we watch Blitz and his obsession with M&M, i have not talked about until now because this plot line is the most prominent in this episode.

The reason why Blitz is so obsessed with them is because they represent all that Blitz would ever want in a relationship, they are the idolized version of love, the care and affection they give to each other is what the imp truly wants, but he is not allowed to it.

This comic relief joke actually show us how deeply the imp wants others but is so broken that he thinks the only way to get a glimpse of this pure love is by stalking them, he wants to feel it even if its not directed at him.

(maybe he even sees himself in Millie, both at one time in their life broken, but if Millie could find love why wouldn’t he?)

This is why he follows them to the restaurant, he just wants to experience this closeness with someone. But he can’t enter alone so he calls Stolas.

Which immediately think it is a date.

Let me remind you, the prince is a newly out of the closet guy, with no romantic experiences besides his tv dramas, going out with a guy that is his crush, it’s his first date with someone he truly loves so he goes with Blitz. Thinking someone finally wanted him for what he is.

There Blitz is only focused on M&M, a visual representation to his blindness from other people love to him.

The thing that i like to think about the most in this episode is how much of a discourse between love and lust it is, M&M being love and Stolitz lust, both in contrast between each other and their respective characters.

But more than that i see this particular episode, and song, this “fight” between Stolas, love, and Blitz, lust.

The song and their respective reactions to it gives us more proof about how they are truly feeling, first with Blitz giving us more context about his relationship with Verosika, she loved him but when it was his turn to love her he simply vanished, calling him selfish for only wanting her love and when he got it he dipped.

As I said earlier, Blitz can’t deal with the thought of someone loving him, this is why he just wants to live in lust, within lust he can have all the love he can get, even if its fake and only for a while, without worrying about his complicated trauma ridden feelings. He believes that if he is with someone just for the sex then eventually when they all leave, or when he makes the person life worst he can easily slip in that mask that it was just for sex and pretend long enough that he never actually cared.

Its a coping mechanism to not get hurt anymore.

Thats why the deal was wonderful to Blitz, it gave him the possibility to be loved without the need to care about the other person, since it was only fot one night every month. But Blitz wouldn’t take into consideration that the other person in this deal is Stolas.

One of the people he cares about the most, but im gonna talk about this later. The thing is lust and love clash against each other in this song.

And the same thing happens with Stolas.

Representing love, Stolas gets confronted about his decision to leave his daughter and wife for the imp. The song brings it in a light of lust but it was really just pure love.

He is a gay man trapped in a arranged abusive marriage, his wife even admitted to “having to do all the work while he just stared at the wall”, nobody important in his life knows about the domestic abuse he suffers, not even his daughter who is manipulated by her mother to go against her father.

Since he was a child he loved Blitz, as his first and only friend, and now he still loves Blitz but as the one who made Stolas realize who he really is.

Even if Blitz is emotionally detached, Stolas feels like he is the light in his life, giving him courage to divorce his abusive wife and finally opening him to new and exciting experiences about himself. Just like he did years ago when he was a child.

Blitz may not be directly involved with these changes but he was the one that Stolas felt he could rely on to change.

And thats the most beautiful thing in a relationship, to love is to be changed.

But in this song it’s brought up as a bad thing, it’s brought only as lust, Blitz sees this as a confirmation that Stolas only wants his body (just like everyone else) specially when he hides himself in the menu, ashamed to be seen with an imp.

Also Blitz seemed guilty because he thinks he made Stolas life worse, after all he had a wife and daughter which both are vanishing from his life. Blitz sees this as if he destroyed Stolas life simply by being beside him, he is a monster that makes everyone lives worse, why would it be different with the prince.

We watch time and time again reasons to why Blitz became this way, why he draws this line, why he is so distant with everyone he dates while still wanting their love, and the worst of all is that he had to deal with it since he was a kid, dealing with his mother’s death and his father abuse.

Stolas is embarrassed by this situation, how could we blame him, freshly out of the closet, someone that had his life dictated by his father and position and only now being able to make his own decisions, he probably never went to a date with someone he liked, if not for Blitz he probably wouldn’t even know he was gay.

He had been educated as a prince, someone higher than the pleb, even if he wasn’t someone so caught up in royalty and status it must still have some hold within him.

It was a natural reaction but it had already told Blitz enough.

The final nail on the coffin was the M&M song, it must have been torture for Blitz just after he “confirmed” all his fears, he sees something he idolizes so very dearly reminding him he will never have what they have. He is not worthy enough for love.

They leave, Stolas heartbroken by his failed date trying to pick their relationship up again tries to invite Blitz in, just to talk and maybe cuddle.

Blitz refuses, he got the confirmation that Stolas only wants him for his body, doesn’t want to be lied to again.

He just revived all his traumas, and the one person who could help him is now dead because of him.

He cries to sleep remembering his mother and his simple life as child, before he became this fucked up imp.

Season 1 episode 8

This episode is more of a comic relief and a deeper insight to Loona’s and Blitz’s relationship but still we see once again that Blitz doesn’t want to be alone, he doesn’t want to die alone, but he feels alone having fought with Stolas.

AND THIS IS IT FOR PART 1 (season 1)

IM GONNA POST MORE LATER BUT OMFG I SPEND 2 DAYS WRITING THIS AND REWATCHING THE EPISODES AAAAA

#stolitz #helluva boss #helluva blitzo #helluva boss stolas #helluva stolas #stolas x blitz #stolas #blitzø #helluva boss blitz #analysis #stolas goetia #blitzo #I ALMOST FINISHED #FINALLY

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legalandnotease · 5 hours ago

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Sam isn't jealous of Bucky- but Sam fans sure as heck are.

Like in nearly a week of screeching in outrage you people have not been able to actually point out what Bucky did that was so henious. You can't even prove he's "working for Val".

All you've been doing is raging like jealous children because Sam didn't get enough of a mention in Yelena's movie, or because Bucky did something without Sam.

or because Bucky dared to have friends other than Sam, or work with people Sam didn't like- never mind Sam works with Ross. The man who not only screwed over the Avengers but tried to kill both Bruce Banner and Bucky.

Then you started ignoring previous canon and straight up lying about what happened in previous MCU movies specificallly to vilify one character.

Claiming Sam owns the Avengers name and gets to decide who is an Avenger as if they were owned by Captain America. (Which is the precise reason people are accusing Sam of being petty BTW because he appears to be acting like an entitled dick and presuming he alone has the right to determine who gets to be an Avenger on some arbitrary basis determined by you.

Which Steve Rogers never did and would never dream of doing. Yoy know- the man who accepted a talking raccoon and a sentient tree as Avengers? Steve wasn't even the Avengers (founder- that was Nick Fury. Nick Fury literally recruited him and picked him to be the leader but any Avenger could recruit anybody they liked. Which is what happened in the movies. Clint recruited Wanda. Sam recruited Scott, Tony recruited Spidey etc etc.

Bucky didn't make the Avengers subject to the government: they were from the start. SHIELD was a government organization which took orders from a group of poliitcians.

Bucky didn't "betray what Natasha stood for". Natasha was literally on the pro-Accords side in Civil War. She was Team Tony until right at the end and her becoming a fugitive was nothing to do with her stance on the Accords.

You're getting backlash because you are acting like petulant children throwing tantrums and inventing things to be mad about which literally didnt happen in this movie or any other. And it shows.

If I was to employ your own logic, I would say its super suss that you are protesting this loudly about a movie in which Bucky appeared in any capacity other than a sidekick or supporting character for the first time in 14 years.

And then, to top it all you began screeching about Bucky "getting things before" Sam. What might that be? Sam's had not one but 2 solo projects to Bucky's --- none. Despite Bucky having appeared in the MCU 3 years before Sam.

Sam's had more appearances in more movies (including an entire scene in Ant Man...as well as the post-credit scene...) and 3 times as much screentime.

Bucky hasn't had anything Sam hasn't, In fact he's had LESS. But because they followed the freaking comics in having Bucky form his own team called the Thunderbolts before Sam leads the whole dam team in Doomsday you can't stop whining.

Instead of being happy for the character like Bucky fans are because we know this is the best we will ever get before Bucky is killed off in Doomsday. Probably to make Sam look good, again.

Its your entitlement, pettiness and general toxicity which is making people dislike you- and by extension Sam. ATM you're on the level of Tony Stans in terms of toxicity.

We get it- you want Thunderbolts to bomb so you can rub people's faces in it and say Sam is better. Precisely how a jealous, insecure person would act.

btw i just want to point it out that sam might not even be ‘angry’— which he has the right to be. but he also could be disappointed or upset, hurt at bucky’s actions. a lot of ppl in the internet calling him mean but all bucky said was that it didn’t go well, a phrase that could mean a lot of things, and it’s really weird that angry and mean was what ppl took from it //

Mind you, the word "anger" came from a lot of you Sam stans. You straight up assumed that Sam is angry. I didn't even think that he was angry but now apparently is canon because you all blew it up

this is not it and you know it.

we said he had the right to be angry, which he has, after ppl literally started to call him mean or unreasonable or bitter, even petty. i saw someone saying he is jealous of bucky, be for real. just because you didn’t see it that way doesn’t mean other ppl didn’t or that they are not talking shit. hate to break it to you but your opinion isn’t universal, and it’s not about you 👍

#steve rogers #captain america #mcu #bucky barnes #mcu salt #mcu meta #sam wilson #thunderbolts*#anti sam stans

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yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit · 8 months ago

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Both my parents actually suffer from HORRID emotional dysregulation and are prone to snapping and going into rages. My sister is the same way tbh. I am now realizing this is why they are constantly baffled by the question of whether or not I am mad at them.

I don't have external meltdowns.

I could. I don't let it happen.

I keep my rage on the inside and stay pretty quiet about it. It's just as strong as theirs [physically shaking nose bleed from high blood pressure kind of bad], but like as a kid I saw how terrifying it was to be around [dad breaking dishes, mom putting our lawn chairs into walls] and I just internalized that I wasn't going to wear that anger on the outside.

So my mother genuinely cannot tell if I am just being quiet or if I am silently hearing the dial-up noises of pure rage. This has lead her to both making strong and confident statements like "You are a pacifist who would never hurt a fly U.U" but also acting like I am secretly dangerous maybe... It's because she has never seen me snap.

She knows what her temper is like [throwing chairs through walls], she knows what my father's temper is like [pick up child and toss out door], and she can tell I am being tested, but she doesn't know what happens when I snap or where that breaking point is.

Her -perhaps unhinged- solution to this, my whole life, has been to do things that should obviously enrage me or shut me down completely, like ignoring important boundaries, repeatedly, punishing me for expressing emotions or needs at all, etc... And then to constantly ask me if I am angry with her when I get too quiet [right after near directly telling me to shut up].

It has occurred to me now, they have never once seen me lose my temper, so they literally just can't tell if I am angry at them. My sister is easy, my mother fights and screams with my sister constantly, my mother understands this. My mother doesn't have any grasp of feelings or boundaries that are not screamed at her [apparently, and I fear my sister is the same way]. Her and my sister are close despite constant fucking fighting because they understand each other.

They are trying to get me to engage the same way and it is not working. I realize now that this has been hard for them.

I was so successfully taught to suppress my emotions, by being punished for any outburst, that rage quiet looks the same as any other kind of quiet from the outside. To them anyway.

I did tell her. For the record. I used my words. I did tell her very calmly that my response to rage, in order to avoid doing the things that terrified me as a child, was to simply leave [the autistic urge to GTFO]. When a situation or person causes too much of the dial-up rage noise, I simply extract myself from that situation, up to and including never speaking to a person again. I explained this calmly. I explained it calmly 100 times and I explained that I explain myself calmly as my rage response 1-5 [also pretty much every other negative emotion tbh], and I told her that what came next was me simply opting out and fucking off. I told her this. I couldn't understand why she never took me seriously, or why she never fucking understood.

I couldn't understand what made her like this.

But it's the same problem I have with everyone else multiplied by a factor of 10.

If I am explaining myself calmly, they can't understand that it's actually serious or that I am actually upset. ESPECIALLY because they read me as "female" and women "aren't that rational" so if I am not screaming and crying about something, which I never do, people assume I can't be upset and it isn't serious.

And then after having my boundaries ignored too many times despite having calmly explained how and why it's a problem [shaking inside or not]... I leave. I leave and everyone gets upset like this is unexpected behaviour, even though I told them 50 times that is how I would respond if they kept doing *the thing.*

And for neurotypical people especially, they are expecting there to be a disconnect between what someone says they need or feel and what their actually boundaries and feelings are, and they expect the latter to be demonstrated with emotions. Telling them bluntly you do not function that way somehow never helps?

My mother isn't just looking for normal yelling or a few tears to know I am serious, whether or not I do those either [I don't], she's looking for an explosion to know there's a problem at all.

Fucked if I know how she proceeds through life this way in general or if this is just her expectation of her own kids???

And I couldn't get why my mother couldn't read my emotions and didn't seem to think I have any. It's because she's testing for the rage limit to see where my 'actual' limit is instead of taking my word for it. Never the fuck mind that she could simply *not* test at my boundaries instead of letting me have them. Separate issue.

I couldn't figure out what made her *like this*

She's expecting me to throw a giant meltdown violent tantrum at people when I have 'actually' had enough. Maybe she got away with those being like 5'4" in another time, but I am the size of the average man, I do not get to have giant screaming rages, whether or not people perceive me consciously as a woman, and least of all because a lot of people -at least unconsciously- read me as 'masculine' or at least always "they guy" of the situation compared to all other women and some men [bigger stronger and more rational, more able to just absorb the damage and let it go so the less rational screaming/crying one doesn't have to be dealt with]. Even if it was in me to be willing to terrify people [usually never], there are such limited instances where it wouldn't just blow back on me. Potentially very dangerously.

I am going to be the quiet calm one. You are going to have to let me use my words, bitch.

So she kept ignoring my boundaries until I had to cut her out of my life, and she probably doesn't understand and probably thinks it feels sudden -after 36 long years of bullshit- abrupt and unfair.

But I told her hundreds of times.

I probably should have just screamed at her.

#good stay out of our yard' and he didn't seem to know what to say to that #but other than that I don't think anyone in my adult life has ever seen me turn aggressive at all to the point where people 100% like to #play games of testing my patience and my boundaries because they think my tolerance is infinite #but like I have autistic rage tantrums on both sides of my family and they are just happening inside my head #And somehow it took me until now to realize that being that way was actually -expected- of me by my parents and especially my mother #and that by keeping myself outwardly level headed to be considerate I actually took away whatever signals she can understand #to have empathy for how I must be feeling #I mean it's still all on her #but it makes so much sense of why she's fucking *like this*#And why my sister thinks I hate her just because -she- stopped texting -me-#but that fucking guy #Every time I was like #In my adult life I have screamed at someone ONE whole time and it was 1000% deserved #And I threw heavy objects around one whole other time and in my defense I didn't do it in front of the guy he just felt the ground shaking #heard the thuds and came back to the logs blocking his path because that fucker wouldn't stop parking in our yard after being asked #and then TOLD not to about 10 times because he was acting entitled to just park in our yard and was crushing my plants???#seriously I don't know what his deal was but he wouldn't stop telling me how much the ground shaking scared him like it was supposed #to get my pity like I think this guy took one look at the logs I had just tossed down and was suddenly afraid of this “woman” he was #bullying in their own yard and so my ability to feel bad for scaring him had gone straight out the fucking window #I looked at him and said stop parking in our yard instead of your own you are killing my plants #he'd just fucking be like 'well the last people to live here let us D: :)“ and I'd be like ”good for them?“ ”stop“#and he'd just keep doing it #I was having a week of insomnia and was finally having the best dream #the kind of sex dream you have like twice in your life #and this fucker had just gotten some noisy ass little bike with a spoiler on it #and starts it up right under my window at 3am from IN OUR FUCKING YARD #so I had a nice long anger nap and just after he got home from work and was sleeping in his house #I picked up these chunks of deadwood tree from the back #there was like 3-4 logs that used to be a WHOLEASS fucking oak tree Like these logs were not as heavy as they -looked- but they were still #this fucker deleted half the tags I wrote and I am not retyping that fuck you tumblr so fucking hard

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ihamtmus · 2 years ago

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the majority of the people who were upset with aziraphale for lying to crowley at the bandstand in season 1 did not understand his character or his situation. and many of them are upset with him again after season 2. because they still don't understand his character or his situation. btw.

#good omens #i have so many thoughts like you wouldn't believe #i don't share them on here much but that post about working in aziraphale apologism mines got to me #like yeah i'm an aziraphale apologism miner and i should dig a little #i might start with season 1 bandstand scene because so many people fundamentally misunderstand what happened there #there's lots of people who relate to crowley out there but you guys should maybe try to relate to aziraphale a little idk #and see things from his perspective #i have never ever seen a character more relatable than aziraphale tbh and it's a bit funny to see how many people just don't get him #my post #i might have to elaborate later because i have a lot to say #but the point is no he did NOT ''betray'' crowley at the bandstand #because at no point was he working with him for their own side until he explicitly defied orders in heaven send post

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spotaus · 10 months ago

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Finally making a timeliness design-guide for Geno from ec-4o.verse! (Just a wip tho)

#spot!drawn #ec 4o!geno #he goes through a progression in this au unlike a lot of the others #because at one time he was more of a 'Sans' style guy until his setting and circumstances changed him for the worse #far left is pre-war when he's just a programming upstart. i mean he's a boss monster so he's been *programming* for years and years #but he's doing his own project as a volunteer on the side and that's where his real prowess comes from. he programs ecto (robot) AIs!#in this part of the design he's very casual and relaxed and it also features A.Z.! AZ is his first breakthrough because he's an #ultra-realistic ai with no magic infused who was supposed to be used to study mental illnesses in children w/o putting real kids in harsh #environments. but he kept A.Z. as he was the 'prototype' and now Geno monitors him and makes sure his programs function right while also #lowkey highkey raising AZ because he got attached #of course then there's mid-war which is technically also a bit before the war but technicalities don't count.#Geno is a talented programmer. the government (for Nefarious Plans) blackmail him into working at one of their facilities on new updates #for Ectos nation-wide. he doesn't exactly have a choice but he's far too deep in by the time he really understands what the new #protocols are for. then there's Post-war where he's sustained a lot of injuries and takes on his final 'Geno' appearance #at this point he's just trying to survive in the apocalypic wastes and finish what he started (cleaning the aftermath of the war)#but yeagg #the silly #(the government took his robot son but it's okay. he gets two mentally unstable boyfriends and reunites with AZ eventually)

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miabrown007 · 1 year ago

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mal in the grishaverse is to alina what jacob in twilight has been to bella. in this essay i'll...

#okay so in twilight jacob is like bella it's unnatural that edward is alive he should have been dead long ago. and if he was and he didn't #meddle with natura and the timeline i would be the one for you in our timeline. but he's here because he's extra special and that makes me #obsolete. because like alina and mal matched until they were both common and not special but now alina is a summoner and #she's the specialest of special girls and mal is throwing a tempter tantrum over that right #and they are like. they should be best friends and nothing more.#anyway that was point A #I'm over not one not two but three glasses of wine but even like this I know that one point justification belongs in my friends DMs not #an essay so let me present point B #so he's like the firebird right (he just circled her hand where the last amplifier would go and they felt weird #incredible foreshadowing btw) so like he belongs to her but only part of her belongs to him and that's very jacob vibes with all the #renesmee business. and also mal is just. so desperate to define himself by what he is to alina like he expects the answer to his own #identity crisis that is the consequence of his own actions (deserting literally no one asked that of him) from her #like the only way he thinks about defining himself is in relation to her . and like yeah ig they are teenagers and 'in love' or whatever #(they have zero chemistry while the darkling and nikolai are constantly standing next to alina and it works but ig I digress)#so i'm just constantly being told and they are in love and want a simple life (and that's the very thing that made me side with Gale instead #of Peeta back when so I'm probably primed to not want that for characters) but idk I just don't see it that they'd make such a good pair #anyway I guess this is a Mal hate post and I'm dragging the moder YA lit's each and every love interest into this 'analysis'#blueberry wine is excellent by the way would recommend #miaing

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tonycries · 10 months ago

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FIVE! - C.K.

Synopsis. Five hours - it’s all it takes for Choso’s baby fever to take over. After all, you’d look so pretty with his kid - five of them, in fact.

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, established relationship, unprotected, bréeding, Choso with rings + a tongue piercing, creampíe, mentioned kids, cúmplay, he goes feraI, oraI (fem receiving), Itadori family shenanigans (mild spoilers for unc-kuna), overstím, fíngering, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Will I ever write a Choso fic without the Itadori family? No absolutely not.

4:37PM.

“Ooo, Cho can we check that place out?”

And, listen, just because Choso would give you the moon right along with his heart doesn’t exactly mean he’s jumping with joy when he follows your gaze to that gaudy little shop tucked away in a corner of the mall. Flashing a loud, glittering sign reading, “FORTUNES: FIND YOUR FUTURE!”

Traitorous memories flash through his mind with each step you drag him closer. Of all those fortune shops he’d frequented years ago, trying to figure out whether you’d say yes to a date - before even thinking of actually asking you.

He won’t ask anything, Choso reassures, stepping through the heady, curtained doorway. Probably not anything, he’s musing, pulling out his wallet to pay for your session. Well, maybe some things, he concludes, eyeing the sprightly old woman that takes a seat opposite you two, peering down at her dramatically large glass ball on the table.

But that doesn’t mean he’ll-

“Babies.”

“Huh?”

“Yes.” the woman gives a solemn nod. “Five of them.”

Both of you let out a squawk of surprise, much to the amusement of the fortune teller. And Choso can feel his palms getting sweaty against your own as he manages to croak out a low, disbelieving, “Five?”

All but toppling out of his seat in suspense as she takes a moment to scrutinize her orb once more. And, surely glass balls can glitch, right? Mix up fortunes or something? Because while he knows you’ll be by his side in this life and every other one after - kids were a whole other responsibility that neither of you had talked about, yet.

At least, that’s what Choso was trying to convince himself right before the woman lets out a thoughtful hum, “Well, you-” pointing a wisened, accusing finger right in his flushed face. “-want more - about eight - but, of course, your future wife says no.” Gesturing to your giggling figure, “Honestly, young man, learn to keep it in your pants, the poor dear!”

Shit, he was going to run away, do something to end up on the national news - and judging by the way you squeeze his hand, you could tell, too.

Subconsciously, Choso’s eyes scan the wall for any hidden cameras, wondering what type of strange prank this was. It had happened once four years ago - and just-so-happened to be what made him give up and finally ask you out - but, hey, it made for a pretty great first date story, right?

Finding none, he sighs, barely opening his mouth to ask before she plows on, “And of course there’s only so many your uncle can piggyback at once, right? No matter how much that grump says he doesn’t like it.”

Right.

Of course.

Oh god, he thinks he could faint.

Choso doesn’t dare say anything for the rest of the session, nor does he look directly in your eyes. Save for that one time to admire your delighted laugh when the fortune teller prattles on about how your kids will “fight his needy self for your attention.”

Not until the two of you are stepping back out into the too-bright mall, your fingers intertwined with his, voice sweet in his ear as you continue with your forgotten mission to find the good brownie mix for the family dinner tonight.

“Eyes like yours and hair like mine.” You sigh, repeating what you’d heard mere minutes ago. Hooking a finger subtly into his belt loop, smirking, “Sooo, five, huh? You’re this worked up over that?”

“N-no.” Choso replies hastily, but the heavy gulp he takes is a dead giveaway he can’t stop thinking about tiny combinations of the two of you running around. Face too-hot, hands jittery, brows furrowed as he decides for the second time in his life that, yeah he’s never stepping foot inside a fortune shop again.

You notice - of course, you do.

Especially when he pulls you into the nearest changing stall, knuckle-deep inside your drenched panties, rings cool against your cunt, lips kissing at your throat. Ignoring your teasing complaints about “getting late”, despite how you’re letting him have his way.

He feels the vibration of your voice under his hot tongue, laughing - even when he gives your pretty clit a little pinch. “Five.”

And through it all, he can’t help but think - hypothetically, of course, that he hopes they all have your laugh.

---

7:16PM.

Honestly, the one thing that made the Itadori residence more of a home to Choso was having you there. Even when you’re standing with him outside the front door, letting out a sigh as you glare at your sad excuse for brownies.

“Ugh, Cho, we totally burnt them.” you grumble up at your boyfriend. “Your dad is gonna hate it and Sukuna’s gonna make fun of me and-”

“Sukuna can try.” Choso hits the doorbell once more, sure that the ruckus inside was too loud to even think over. “And he probably will.” Before turning back to your adorable pout, and ah he can’t stop himself from cupping your face, smoothing over that furrow in your brow. He leans in to give your lips a chaste peck, “But, he’s still gonna steal some. N’ dad’ll love it, and you already know gramps is gonna sneak in some even though his doctor told him not to.” He’s getting out through kisses, pulling your giggling face closer to his. “And we’ll be lucky to get any before Itadori inhales them.”

He ends his little speech with a slow, lingering kiss. Sliding his soft lips across your now much happier ones. Dancing a hand down to pull your hips closer, murmuring throatily, “N’ most of all, I’m gonna love ‘em, baby.”

You gasp at the feeling of his long fingers pressing just at the hem of your panties through your dress, “You’re- you’re too much.” You hiss, but it comes out more breathless than you intended. “But, the brownies really are-”

Slam!

“Yeah yeah, Jin, the brats are finally here, jus’ fucking on the porch!”

If there’s anything Choso’s learned from all the times you’ve had dinner with his family, it’s that 1. Yes, the brownies - as burnt and questionable as they were - will always turn out to be a hit in the Itadori household. 2. You were really, really too perfect for your own good, even amidst the chaos.

“Oh no, let me.” you flash Jin a beaming smile, taking over the well cleared-out plates to the kitchen. Only to be followed by an enthusiastic Yuji almost tripping over his own feet to help you out.

“You got a good one there.” Choso snaps out of his soft stare to whirl around at where his grandpa was seated next to him. He tips his head over to where you were chattering animatedly with the younger boy taking your load of dishes. “Real lovely. Though, the desert I’m assuming you helped out with.”

Jin pipes up, “Bah! I thought that liquorice was great.”

“They were…brownies.” Face burning, he stammers, knowing full well that you were the one that forgot them in the oven. “And uh y-yeah, you got me…”

And, of course, because it’s a family dinner, Sukuna has to lean over to rile him up. Interjecting teasingly, “Then you best wife that cute lil’ thing up before those baking skills of yours make ‘em run off n’ find someone that can bake.” He smirks devilishly, eyes flitting to the view of the kitchen, “And…”

“And?”

“-is fuckin’ great with kids, too.”

Several things happen at once - the words are barely out of Sukuna’s mouth before he’s being swatted over the head. Hard. After all, being the nicer of the two doesn’t make Jin Itadori forget his roots as the older brother.

And Choso’s jaw is dropping into a soft oh! Not at the unusual display of strength, no, instead it was at the heavenly scene before him.

He swears, the lights grow just a bit brighter and the world becomes a little rosier at the sight of you teaching an eager Yuji the correct way to scrub strainers. Gently guiding the boy until that confused furrow between his brow disappears. “Yeah, just a bit more on the side and you’re done!”

He gives you a very soapy high-five, “You’re literally a lifesaver, Kugisaki was just making fun of me for this the other day.” Moving onto the rest of the workload, “‘Can’t do shit’ gonna show her, seriously. Thank you mom- uh-”

Yuji freezes. You freeze. And it seems that everyone in the world might’ve frozen, except for Sukuna who was still rubbing that bump on his head.

And you, of course, promptly cutting off the flurry of apologies that looked like they were about to burst from Itadori’s lips. Smiling at the flustered boy softly, “Well…good job, Yuji.” you bump his hip. “And now onto the blender.”

“AW, MAN.”

Suddenly, everything was normal again. Except for Choso - definitely not Choso.

Mom?

So utterly, completely not Choso when everyone’s still talking downstairs, and he’s not. Making some cheap excuse about a ‘bathroom break’, which really didn’t explain why he covertly drags you behind him by the hand. All but shoving you into his childhood bedroom, shutting the door as quietly as he could without alerting anyone of your tryst.

“Ch-Cho-” you squeal when he pushes you against the wall, dropping down to his knees with a fervor that makes you wince. But if it hurt, then Choso doesn’t show it - doesn’t show anything but pure need when he bunches your dress up at your waist. Soft tongue darting out to glide along your drenched slit, “What’s gotten- hngh- into you?”

The only response you get is a murmured growl of something you can’t bother deciphering. And he doesn’t give you any other, either - sluggishly nudging away your panties to admire your glistening cunt.

So close. Just hovering over your puffy folds, smiling at the way they only get wetter at his hot breath, “Five.”

Too close. Glossy pink lips falling slack to wrap around your clit and-

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Though, it was more of a bang. And an even louder voice from outside, “OI, you brats better be decent, gramps found some dusty old albums n’ wants you two down.”

---

9:02PM.

“Awww, this is from his first fight with Yuji- yes, Choso so what if I took a picture?” Jin excitedly points to a photo on the page, “Yuji was the one with a bruise, but Choso was the one bawling.”

You titter at the glossy picture, a confused-looking Yuji as a toddler, being smothered by his older brother in a hug - big, fat tears running down his pouty cheeks. Adorable. And somehow that encounter with the fortune teller today rings in your mind - wonder if your kids would have those same eyes?

“As cute as ever, huh?” your gaze dances across all the gems of childhood on the page.

“Disagreed.” Sukuna leans over, no matter how much he’d like to pretend he wasn’t interested in these albums. “Look how attached the lil’ anklebiter used to be.” A painted nail pokes at one of Choso on his uncle’s shoulders, tiny fists happily gripping onto pink hair - much to his disgruntlement. “And then I look over at him now and-” He glances over at the man in question, very much unamused. “Well. That’s disappointing.”

Choso rolls his eyes, “What’s disappointing is how you’re this old but still can’t find a-”

“Ooo look this is from when he’d run away during bath time!”

That album is snatched so fast out of Jin’s hands that you wonder whether it might just be your imagination. But you look over at a red-faced Choso, seeing him hold it way above your heads. Muttering out a hasty, “I think that’s enough photo time.”

Amidst the collective groans of disappointment - even Sukuna lets out a low huff, you hadn’t gotten to those ugly matching Halloween costume pictures yet - only Yuji speaks up, “Do you think I’d be like that, too?”

Sukuna scoffs, “What? An emo bastard? Might just work out for ya, kid, the dumbass look isn’t doing you any favors.”

Yuji juts his chin in indignance, “No- we already have Fushiguro for that.” Tilting his head over to the album still tight in Choso’s clutches. “Do you think your kids would like me? Would I be that cool favorite family member?”

“No way, brat. It’ll be me.”

Choso’s grandpa also chimes in as well, “Huh? No, I’d be the favorite.”

“Gramps-”

“Says who?”

“DISRESPECT TO YOUR ELDERS!”

“Hey!” Everything turns to Choso, startled at his sudden outburst. Tension crackling as he pokes a thumb at his chest, “I’d be their favorite. For all five of them.”

And you knew a fist or two to be thrown, hell, you half-expected the album to be used as some type of weapon. Because before you knew it, Sukuna was on Yuji, and both Yuji and Choso were on Sukuna. Falling to the floor in a tangled pile while his grandpa sat on the sidelines, chanting an elated, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Ah, it’s times like this that you wonder how Jin Itadori really had the patience. Because with all the grace that was lacking in the current scuffle on the living room floor, he claps his hands loudly. “Alright. Perhaps Choso’s right, that’s enough photo time for tonight.” He plucks the album out of a dazed Choso still gripping onto it, before moving to walk out. “And for the record-” Flashing you all a devious smile which suddenly had you remember that shit, him and Sukuna were twins, after all. “-I’d be the favorite.”

The arguments that followed were ones you had to record on your phone to giggle at later. And, yet, through it all, the only thing you could truly focus on were Choso’s words - all five of them.

Fuck. You were truly, irrevocably so fucked, and one sideglance at the pretty pink blush burning at the tips of Choso’s ears told you he wasn’t faring any better.

You jolt when his hand wraps around your waist - nothing out of the ordinary - but what was was the way he strayed past their usual perch at your hip, trailing slightly above to just caress your stomach. Something so electric in those eyes when they catch yours briefly.

All five of them, huh?

---

9:37PM.

SLAM!

“Cho, why’d you-”

“Shut up.”

You don’t know what’s hitting you first - his lips crashing against yours, or the realization that this was Choso. Dark eyes half-lidded, skin burning, breaths heaving with the fervor he was drinking you in with.

“What-” you yelp when he pulls away lazily to suck on your lower lip. “What got-” Only to come clashing back down again, drawing out all the air in your lungs as he blindly shoves the two of you against the nearest wall. “What got into you this- mmpf-” And again it’s like Choso didn’t want you to talk - could bare another word in your sweet voice for fear of poking some deep, visceral part of himself awake.

This time, not even daring to break the kiss, he pants into your open mouth, “Shut up.” So bruisingly sloppy, “Please.”

And oh he was so very determined to have it that way, because all you can do is let out breathless gasps when his hands dance down your body. Handling you so rough with the way he snaps the neckline of your cute lil’ dress, kneading your breasts, your hips. Everywhere and anywhere he could reach until he makes his way down to cup your already-damp cunt through your panties. “-because tonight m’gonna have her talking.”

Choso pushes his hips against yours with a strained grunt. Lips curling into a sinful leer when all you can do is gasp at the outline of his thick erection through his pants. Grinding down onto his palm subconsciously, dragging your sloppy pussy.

“Shit.” Choso immediately brings his hand up to admire - now all glistening with a sheen of your syrupy slick. Looking you right in your glassy eyes as he pops a wet finger into his mouth. His own rolling to the back of his head, “Oh shit.”

Oh, he was going to enjoy this. So very, very much.

“Turns out…” he trails off, cutting himself off by dropping to his knees. Hard. Large hands groping your ass closer to his greedy mouth, “-she says we got some unfinished business.”

You whine when Choso hooks an index underneath the mound of your drenched panties sliding it along your puffy folds. All the way up until he was nudging at your pretty clit, then down, down, down until you were just coating his fingers.

“Ngh- Cho-” your knees weaken, when his hot breath hits your pussy. And he notices - of course he does. Circling his muscled arms around your legs to hold you up, “Oh my god s’too much.”

Too much? He’s barely even getting started. And he tells you that - slurs it between his sharp canines biting down on the thin fabric of your panties. He tugs with his teeth, “M’gonna- fuck you smell so heavenly- m’gonna ruin you.”

You whimper in disbelief. Knowing he was too entranced with your cunt to tease you again, you mewl, “Wh-what’s got you this- fuck- worked up, Cho?”

The only response you get is a throaty growl - like the mere idea of the answer to that has Choso losing his sanity.

And, honestly he feels like he’s lost it already. Instead, taking his time to watch the way your slick beads through the see-through fabric with each passing second. Breaths coming out in little puffs as he pulls your panties back every-so-slightly and-

“Fuck!”

And then he’s pulling - ripping your poor panties to shreds. Cock twitching wildly at the strings of slick connecting your pussy to the fabric. Mouthwatering.

Your panties lay in tatters on the floor. The cold air hitting you right along with his steady stream of saliva. Once. Twice. Smearing it across your folds with his thumbs as Choso repeats a single, jagged whisper, “Five.”

But you barely even have the time to register his response before he’s diving nose-deep into your dripping cunt. You don’t even know if he took the time to breathe - hell, he was kissing your puffy folds like he didn’t need to breathe.

“Shouldn’t have taken me to ngh- that fortune shop.” his lips mesh sloppily with yours. “Shouldn’t have gone to dinner, too.” Licking down your folds, the cold metal of his piercing making your head spin. “Fuckkk we shouldn’t have. Ohhh we shouldn’t have- ”

He can’t help but let out a guttural, fucked-out little grunt at the sight. Looking right up into your glassy eyes as the tip of his nose bumps against your throbbing clit. On purpose.

You buck your hips deeper into his pretty face, mewling. “O-oh. Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” Letting him lick so filthily all over your clit - your folds - just barely dipping into your hole like he couldn’t decide. And it finally sets in that just maybe you weren’t getting off easy this time. “Five?”

And fuck you can feel the way Choso grins against your pussy, wrapping his now-glossy lips around your clit to suck so harshly.

“Mhmmm.” he moans, cheeks hollowing as he tugs on your poor, ravaged clit. Rolling his tongue - the ball of his piercing - right across the sensitive bud in just the way he knew you liked. “Shouldn’t have put those thoughts in my head, baby.”

Oh.

Oh, shit. Five.

You definitely weren’t making it out alive today.

The same sentiment seems to ring in Choso’s pussydrunk head as he pulls away with a lewd squelch to grin up at you. So fucking pretty with his eyes miles away, hair messily framing his smudged eyeliner. Lips all puffy and glistening, your slick covering the lower half of his face, his chin - some even on his jaw like Choso was trying to get messy on purpose. “Ya finally got it, baby? I could feel her gettin’ wetter.”

You did. How could you not?

You jump when Choso reattaches his lips, this time bullying his tongue past your folds, into that first, feeble ring of resistance. Stretching out your sopping entrance on his tongue in persistent, rough pushes. “Seems she hngh- really likes the idea, hm? Of me breeding this lil’ cunt?” he moans, muffled with the way he was thrusting his tongue deeper and deeper with each second. Roaming for those cute sensitive spots he knew so well, “N’ who am I to say no to the fuck- mother of my kids?”

“There! Oh my god there-” you cry when his piercing just hits at your g-spot. “I-I thought you ngh- didn’t want kids, Cho–”

As if to prove you wrong, Choso’s only curling his tongue deeper into your walls. Squeezing past your walls to fuck you exactly the way he wanted to with his aching cock right now. Hitting that magic spot again and again and-

“Oh yeah? Seems-” Like he was fucking addicted, Choso surges forward again. And again. And again and again so deep that you could feel the curve of his chin, each and every movement of his jaw. “Seems the last five hours were a bit- eye-opening. Fuck- you’re squeezin’ me s’fucking- mmf- tight”

And it was true - your walls were milking Choso’s tongue so hard you half-lucidly wondered whether it didn’t hurt. Whether his tongue wasn’t cramping up at this point, lips aching.

But if they did, then Choso acted the exact opposite. Nails leaving neat little patterns on the plush of your hips as he makes you ride his face harder.

“Cho!” you buck your hips wildly when that wasn’t enough for your needy boyfriend either. Big, fat tears of overstimulation rising up to your eyes when he swipes his thumb across your pulsing clit. Rings cold against your cunt when he starts to draw urgent, messy little circles in time with his tongue.“Oh fuck-”

“Five.” he’s spitting into your cunt when your thighs start trembling beside his head. Jaw sagging open so lewdly as he gets faster - sloppier. Fuck any rhythm or reason. “Five.” he moans, sounding as strained as you felt - as taut as a tightrope right now with each drag of your sloppy cunt over Choso’s ravenous mouth. Greedier - letting your slick run all the way down his wrist now with how messy he was getting. “Five.” he whispers, when you finally cum.

And shit, you’re such a vision when you do. Tears springing to your eyes, fingers tightening on Choso’s hair. Letting out such cute sobs of his name, hips moving out of control all over his mouth while he still pulls and pushes his tongue into your gummy walls. Fucking you so obscenely through your high.

“Yeah? You all done with the first one, baby?” he rasps, giving your sensitive cunt one, last peck at your delirious nod - and another extra, just to watch you squirm. “Then-” Choso does the same up your body, pressing his lips to your stomach, “-you can-” the valley of your breasts. “-take responsibility.”

That’s all it takes for Choso to easily throw you onto his sculpted shoulders like some ragdoll. Taking long, urgent steps towards the nearest flat surface - that just so happened to be your couch.

“Cho- slow-” you squeal when he throws you onto the cushions. “-down.”

And he does anything but. Barely paying attention to your zipper when he pulls off whatever’s left of your dress, throwing it god-knows-where behind him. “I’ll buy you a new one when we go pregnancy shopping.”

Choso lets out a long, strained groan when he unbuckles your bra. “Gonna be so pretty as a mama.” Large, soft hands coming to knead and guide your pretty nipples into his mouth, “Gonna be- fuck- so pretty with these all full.”

And you can only watch, jaw-dropped, as Choso sucks on your tits. Eyes rolling to the back of his head with how harsh he was - as if he was trying to get out milk. Needing to feel it - to taste it on his tongue.

“And this- oh this-” A hand sneaks its way down to splay out over your stomach. Pressing down, hard. “So round and full with my kid.” He manages to grit out over the metal clinking of his belt, “They’ll look at you and all they’ll see is me.” He pauses, feeling something crinkle in his pocket - a shiny condom. One that Choso chucks along with your dress, “Fuck, they’ll see me. Know how I ruined you. Me me me me-”

Fuck-

You’re so caught up in Choso’s sinful little mutters that you barely even noticed he’d pull down his pants - just enough for his rock-hard erection to spring free. And he looked so painfully hard, such an angry red at his weeping tip, leaking all the way down, down, down those prominent veins.

Twitching upwards at the mere sound of your voice, “Why don’t you p-prove it then, Cho?”

You broke him. You were sure you broke him.

The words have barely left your lips before Choso’s fist is squeezing at the drenched base of his cock. Angry. Desperate.

All but cumming on the spot when he glides his fat head along your slit - letting your cunt drool all over him before-

“F-fuck-”

“Shhh baby, I know I know.” his mouth crashes against yours in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. Sucking on your tongue while he bullies his massive cock into your snug cunt. Inch by fucking inch. And whatever’s remaining of Choso’s sanity knows he should slow down, let you breathe, maybe stretch you out more - but how could he when he physically can’t. “Fuck- too- too good. God, I have t-to do this more often.”

Your raw cunt too heavenly that he genuinely can’t stop his hips from splitting you apart deeper, from spreading your thrashing legs so far apart it burned.

From feeling the way you’re torn between taking more and flattening your feet to push away- Letting out a strangled groan, “No no no no no- don’t you take this pussy away. How else will I breed her?” He runs his delirious mouth, strong arms just dragging you across the couch back onto his mean cock. “Need this- need this so bad. Fuck-” Choso throws his head back as your cunt sucks up his leaky tip. “-oh god think m’gonna die if I don’t get to breed this pretty pussy. To give her my kid.”

Pushing in small, sharp jabs to bully himself inside, having your puffy folds bulge so obscenely around his cock. Quivering and struggling to take him all. Not even a quarter of the way in yet he was pushing in and out in and out in and-

“Oh- please-” you claw down his toned back, his waist, onto the biceps that were pushing your knees up for easier access, all the way until they were at your tits. Folding you into a tight mating press, “Cho–”

Ah, that little nickname always did things to him. And Choso nuzzles the crook of your neck gently - the exact opposite of his hips, leaving faint, dark streaks of eyeliner on your skin. “What is it? What do you hngh- want, baby? I’ll give ya anything.”

And maybe you were a mastermind. Maybe you were an idiot. Because you hum into his ear, sending goosebumps rising down your boyfriend’s spine, “Wan’ five of them.”

If you thought you broke him before then you fucking ruined him now.

Because in one, harsh thrust he’s bottoming out - feeling like he was pushing all the way into your lungs, your hazy brain. And the stretch - fuck. You could feel each and every dip and curve of Choso’s girth, thrumming against your plushy walls. Still pushing inside you despite bottoming out, stretching you out like such a slut.

It was all Choso could do to echo, over and over like some type of mantra. “Finally- Five, huh? Five- Fuck!” Leaving little bruises on your thighs from spreading them apart so hard. “Gonna give you five- fuck- five.”

Each word was punctuated by a long, mean thrust, not daring to reel back until Choso could feel his fat head kiss your poor cervix, and his heavy balls smack against your ass.

It was starting to take a toll on your ability to speak in coherent sentences - as expected, of course.

“Oh- ngh- Cho, s’too deep. Too- ah-” you blubber tearily, heels digging into his shoulders. And he only fucks you harder into the couch. Bouncing you so rough on his swollen cock.

“Too deep?” Choso mutters, sounding genuinely surprised. As if to confirm for himself, he trails up a hand to feel for where he knew he was leaving loving little marks on your cervix. Pressing down. “How are ya- hah- how are ya gonna let me breed this cute cunt if even this is too deep, huh?”

You don’t have the ability to answer even if you wanted to - because Choso starts to toy with your still-sensitive clit. Sending flashes of white-hot pleasure with each roll of his ringed thumb over it. Tiny, incessant circles.

He coos over your lewd ah! ah! ah! “Awww. My baby can’t s-speak anymore?”. The curve of his dick fucking you so dumb, massaging your tight walls, hitting sweet spots you didn’t even know you had. “S’alright, jus’ let me hah- take care of it, okay? Jus’ let me paint this oh- heavenly pussy white.” Choso’s knees dig into the cushion as he angles his hips ever-so-slightly to hit that one-

“Fuck! Oh fuck- Cho–”

Found it.

“C’mon, baby.” Choso moans into the valley of your breasts, hips out of control now. Free hand coming up to squish your cheeks together, forcing you to peer into his dark gaze. “L-look at me. Fuck- look at the future father to your kids.”

All while his thick tip hit your g-spot over and over and-

And oh how he loved how fucked-out you looked already. Capable of only giving him bleary, cockdrunk heart-eyes as he milks himself on your sloppy cunt. He couldn’t think straight - doesn’t think he’s been able to since five hours ago.

Since he’s been wrecked with thoughts of how he’d do their hair and you’d pick them up from school. And how Yuji would be the best uncle and- Fuck, how he wanted those five kids with you - maybe even more-

“More?” you gasp. And Choso lets out a guttural groan when you clench so sinfully around him in surprise. Fucking you so filthy, “M-more kids?”

Choso only drawls out a low, “Mhmmmm.” Pinching your clit faster between two fingers to shut up those cute whines because shit- he could cum from just how tight you were squeezing him. But refuses to before the mother of his kids. “Ya don’ ngh- wan’ me to? Don’ want me to fuck a baby into you?”

You’re crying out harder when he speeds up. Rocking your sloppy cunt so harshly, making sure your poor pussy will remember him for a long, long time. Just trying - needing - to make himself cum. To fill you up with his seed till you can’t take it anymore. “I- ngh- do!”

And it takes everything in Choso to pull away from your ravaged tits, connecting his sweaty forehead with yours. Whispering, “How many?”

“As- fuck-”

“Mhm?”

“As many as you want- hngh-”

That’s all it takes for Choso’s body to bow, teeth digging in right above that rapid pulse on your neck so hard you wondered whether it drew blood. Hips stuttering, giving your sensitive spot one last, harsh kiss.

This time, when you cum you see white flashes behind your eyes - or maybe that was just Choso. Because the sight of you falling apart on his dick was all it takes for him to as well. Hard. Almost painfully so.

Eyeliner running down his cheeks now with each thick, hot rope of seed he was filling your snug cunt up with. Those cushions below the two of you the last thing on his mind right now as he holds your trembling hips still, fucking his cum deeper and deeper.

The hand on your stomach pushes down, watching awe-struck at how your bloated cunt just coats him in cum. Dribbling down the side of your puffy folds, forming a creamy ring at his base.

“Oh!“ your jaw falls slack at how animalistic it felt. At how slutty your overfilled pussy felt, drooling all down your legs - and his. Onto Choso’s painfully squeezing balls as he fucks you like an animal. Again. And again and-

Again. He was speeding his hips up again.

Then it’s like something snaps - Choso’s restraint, your sanity, and the couch. Fuck, his hips were so harsh that the couch was sagging entirely too much on your end.

This time, wrangling your legs around Choso’s waist, lifting your limp body up into Choso’s arms before you can react - squirming at the way he still doesn’t bother to pull out. Letting your cum gush all the way down his still-hard dick.

Hands spreading your puffy folds apart, making such a mess of cum down below as he drags himself across your walls. Like he was marking you from the inside out - and he was.

“Didn’t think we were ngh- done, did you?” Choso’s lips graze your swollen ones. “After all, I did promise five.” Softly pooling a stray tear onto his tongue, piercing burning into your heated skin. “N’ we gotta practice for that, too, right?”

---

“The photo albums, really? Honestly, dad, you might as well have just gone and just outright told them.”

The older man only waves a hand dismissively, turning back to his favorite late-night show, “I’m not getting any younger here. N’ I’d like to see some grandkids before I see the pearly gates.”

Jin only sighs, but doesn’t disagree - after all, he couldn’t deny his father what he himself has been dreaming about ever since Choso finally plucked up the courage to actually ask you out. Yet he persists, “But honestly, Sukuna - you were teasing him a bit too much.”

Sukuna grunts, “Teasing? What teasing?” Crossing two big arms across his chest, “From the way they ran outta here, I suspect he should be thanking me.”

“Well, the true MVP - as the kids say - is this one-” Grandpa Itadori points at a rather oblivious Yuji. ‘Real nice improv to the plan, kid.“

Who only shakes his head before looking around the room for any answers, “Huh, wait. What plan? Did I miss some plan?”

“Ahem- no. Nothing.” Jin coughs, swiftly moving along the conversation above Yuji’s confused protests about what secret plan there was and why. “But, really, it should be that fortune teller you hired, Sukuna. Bit over-the-top honestly, but Choso was telling me all about her and you must’ve gotten a real convincing actress.”

Rolling his eyes, “Huh, I didn’t hire her, I thought that was the ol’ man’s work?”

“Now why would I go looking for actresses, my wife would just haunt me from the grave.”

The silence that follows is a heavy one as it slowly dawns upon everyone in the room - except for a still-floundering Yuji - that this was in no way a creative improvisation to the aforementioned plan. Not at all, really.

Oh.

Wow. Five…really?!

“GUYS WHAT WAS THE PLAN?”

A/N. This got wayyyyyy longer than I expected lmao.

Plagiarism not authorized.

#choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #choso #tonywrites #choso kamo

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ilikeevilblondes · 2 months ago

Text

Breaststroke

18+ MDNI!

Summary: Joel, single dad extraordinaire, is struggling to teach his daughter how to swim. You end up teaching Sarah over the course of a few weekly swimming classes. One fortunate day, Joel accidentally stumbles upon a rather intimate situation involving you in the shower rooms after hours. He’s about to leave, but right before he can, he hears his own name spilling out in a desperate moan from your lips.

TL;DR: It’s more fun to stay in the YMCA (shower rooms) (because that’s where Joel fucks you.)

W.C: ~7.7k

Warnings: Singledad!Joel x swimmingteacher!reader, softdom!joel, accidental voyeurism, mutual masturbation, blowjobs, praise, fingering, unprotected p-in-v, shower sex, pull out and pray, implied age gap, Joel’s got that daddy humour (no outbreak!)

Note: waiter! waiter! some plot with my porn, please! sorry, you freaks, mama had to stretch the narrative before the rawdogging. and sorry for the late upload, the flu was not gucci. hope y'all enjoy as always, though! and if you got any reqs, feel free to send them my way 🤓

@pedrospurplerain

According to HealthyChildren.org, most children in America begin to learn how to swim by their fourth birthday. Basic abilities like floating and treading water can be ingrained in their motor skills at that point, and by the ripe age of five or six, most children will have been able to freestyle across any urine-defiled public pool.

Joel sighed as he watched his five-year-old angel scream and hiss at the local YMCA pool, refusing even to dip a toe into the chlorinated abyss.

“Sarah, pumpkin, you’re not a cat.” He sighed, pinching his curved nose bridge.

Sarah merely shot him a dirty look, the dirtiest a toddler could muster. She crossed her arms over her chest, the bright orange inflatable armbands around her upper arms squeaking as she did so.

“I don’t wanna go in there, daddy.” Sarah humphed.

Joel shook his head, looking up at her from where he sat in the shallow area of the gym’s pool. His little treasure, bless her heart, was stubbornly standing over the ledge and peering down at him with both fear and unwavering defiance.

“Y’gotta, pumpkin.” Joel ran a hand through his wet hair.

Of all the dads in the world, Joel would not say he was among the worst percentile. He certainly tried his best to do anything and provide everything for his little girl; working as many shifts as he could to pay for her school (his kid somehow, thankfully, didn’t get his brains and was starting first grade ahead of schedule), moving into a ‘nicer’ neighbourhood, and spoiling her with all the stuffed toys and lego sets her little heart desired.

Being a single dad wasn’t easy, to put it simply. Joel would’ve thought, owing to karmic nonsense, the universe could have been a bit nicer to him for the measly crime of forgetting to teach his daughter how to swim. But there he was, staring up at a child more hydrophobic than a rabies survivor.

“Can we go home, Daddy? Please?” Sarah stomped her little foot down onto the tiled floor.

“We will, sugar, I promise. Just, not until you at least try to step down here.”

Sarah shook her head wildly.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” She said, more decisively.

“Says who?” Joel raised a dark brow.

“Me.”

“Remind me again, pumpkin, are you the adult or the child in this relationship?”

“You’re the one in the kiddie side of the pool, Daddy.” Sarah giggled, revealing a toothy grin.

Joel sighed through a smile. God, this kid was too smart for him. She was gonna be the death of him.

Mumbling something to the effect of ‘smartass’ under his breath, Joel treaded to the end and hoisted himself up, towering over his three-foot-nothing daughter and dripping chlorine-infected water down onto the ground.

“You wanna switch places?” He crossed his arms over his broad, bare chest, nodding his head toward the pool.

“Nope!” Sarah smiled.

Joel was about to give up for the day and take his troublemaker home only to return the next weekend, when he suddenly felt a tentative finger tap his shoulder.

He whipped around to see a girl, much younger than him—and much shorter, too, dressed in the standard red lifeguard one-piece uniform.

“Sorry to intrude,” You began, biting your lip. “I couldn’t help but overhear.”

Joel blinked, not realising he had to reply to your remark like a normal fucking human would. Instead, he opted for the less popular, uncivilised caveman method of furrowing his brows and blinking madly.

He was too distracted by the way your swimsuit clung tightly over your body. Too mesmerised by the droplets of water sliding in slow motion down your curves. Not to mention that disarmingly pretty smile of yours.

God, he’d been too single for too long.

“Hello!” The reason for his singleness beamed up at you and waddled closer. “I’m Sarah.”

Your smile stretched wider as you bent down to meet her eye level and introduce yourself in return. Sarah repeated your name back to you delightedly, like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

After making a comment about how ‘cool’ her floaters were, you straightened up and met Joel’s coffee-brown gaze.

“Anyway.” You absentmindedly tucked a stray piece of wet hair behind your ear. “Um, well, I overheard your situation. And, uh, just wanted to let you know that the gym hosts free introductory swimming lessons every Saturday afternoon. I teach the classes, actually, and you and your daughter are more than welcome to come, mister…?”

By some miracle, Joel was able to move his mouth and properly communicate this time.

“Miller. Joel Miller.” He managed to say without so much as a stutter, smiling politely at you and sticking out a hand.

You took his hand in yours and shook it.

“Nice to meet you, Mr Miller-Joel-Miller. That Italian?” Your laugh was a sweet sound and, at risk of being completely predictable, music to his ears.

“The only Italian in me, sweetheart, is from the canned ravioli we had for lunch today.” Joel chuckled. “And we’d be more than happy to come, wouldn’t we, Sarah?”

To punctuate his claim, he flashed Sarah a look.

A frown cut into her soft features, but she relented.

“Yes, we would.” Sarah sighed dejectedly.

“Great! Um. Here’s the flier.” You produced a colourful leaflet and held it out to Joel. He took it. “It has the times and details and, uh, that’s my phone number on the bottom, there.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Joel pocketed it. “We’ll be there.”

“I look forward to seeing you two then.” You smiled again.

Joel would’ve fallen to his knees if you had stayed longer with that damn smile of yours. But you turned around to speedwalk towards the other side of the pool, blowing your whistle and reprimanding a bunch of teenagers running across the slippery poolside.

And if he thought the front of you was stunning, he was quickly shown that your back view was just as providing.

“You’re staring,” Sarah observed, tugging at his arm.

Joel cleared his throat.

“Let’s go home, pumpkin.” He ruffled her hair, much to a fit of giggles, and led his daughter away from the outdoor pool.

—-------

Saturday afternoon did not come quickly enough.

After a week of late nights spent finishing drywall and early mornings making Sarah’s lunch—because there was no way in hell she was going to eat whatever junk-filled shit the American school system provided in cafeterias—Joel was tired, to say the least.

By three o’clock sharp, he had arrived at the pool with his daughter dressed to the nines in a robot-themed swimsuit and bright green goggles that suctioned so hard into her little face that she looked wide-eyed and cartoonish.

And when four o’clock had rolled around, Joel was happy to report that his daughter had finally worked up the nerve to get in the pool. With your help (and some floppy-haired assistant coach), Sarah had also managed to do some basic swimming manoeuvres without clinging to the side for dear life and frothing at the mouth.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Joel approached you after the session had officially ended, and Sarah was dried off and warm. “Just wanted to thank you. And, uh, Coach Bryan for, you know…”

“No thanks necessary, Mr Miller.” You winked, then bent down to Sarah, who stood beside her father. “You did great, Sarah. Really.”

Sarah smiled sheepishly. Joel chuckled at her bashful demeanour and ruffled her hair affectionately.

“Same time next week, Coach?” He asked.

“Yes, sir.” You saluted him and walked off toward the shower rooms, a towel around your shoulders and a spring to your step.

Joel shook his head, smiling, and took Sarah home in a better mood than he had been that morning.

—-

Joel quickly learned that the swimming lessons were beneficial to both him and his daughter. Sarah was speedily conquering her fear of water, and Joel was… well, Joel spent a lot of time talking to you when you weren’t in the pool. And afterwards, too, when the rest of the kids had already left and there were no other parents to chat your ear off.

“You’re taking a gap year?” Joel mused after one particularly smooth sailing session, taking off his sunglasses and hanging them on the hem of his shirt.

“Yep. Just taking a break after college so I can figure out what I wanna do in life.” You shrugged. “Is being a contractor any fun?”

“Well, sweetheart, I doubt you’d like it very much.” Joel smiled, glueing his eyes to yours with steely resolve.

He was not going to look down at your body this time. He was not going to ogle the tight fit of your one-piece. He was better than the average man.

Besides, you were definitely too young for him. Possibly even young enough to be his daughter. You’d likely recoil in disgust and horror and, possibly, contact the local authorities to capture him, the creepy older man, if he were to ever make a move.

“Eh. I was open to the idea.” You laughed, shaking your head. “But I guess it’s dominated by big, strong hunks like you, huh?”

“I mean, I—” Joel began, but cut himself off upon realising what you had just said.

He blinked. Did you just flirt with him?

As if sensing that Joel was getting somewhere other than friendly banter with her swimming teacher, Sarah jogged up to the two of you.

“Daddy, I’m hungry. Let’s go home!” She pulled at his wrist.

Joel cleared his throat, offered you a quick goodbye, and led his daughter outside back to their car.

—-

“I promise it’s funny.” Bryan nudged your shoulder, giving you a very indiscreet once-over.

Joel was shamelessly eavesdropping on your post-lesson conversation as he towelled Sarah’s unruly hair nearby. Not to be nosy, of course, just to find out whether he was your boyfriend or not. Out of pure curiosity, really. No ulterior motive whatsoever…

“I somehow doubt that.” You hummed, no amusement evident in your unimpressed tone.

“Okay, so, there’s this ginger, a brunette, and a blonde—”

“I’ll stop you right there, Bryan, is the punchline, by any chance, ‘breaststroke’?”

“Well, shit.” Bryan sighed.

Joel chuckled to himself, giving Sarah one last tousle with the towel before settling it over her shoulders.

He concluded you either hated your boyfriend, or he wasn’t your boyfriend at all.

Joel preferred the second option.

—-

“I’m just getting some water. You okay with the kids?” You pulled yourself out of the pool, glancing at Bryan.

“Yep. All good here,” He called back.

With a nod, you draped your towel over your shoulders and made your way towards the deck chair that held your things.

It seemed that the heavens were smiling on you that day, too, because none other than Mr Miller himself occupied the chair beside yours.

And what a sight he was.

Sun-bathing, his sunglasses resting over closed eyes, and his broad, bare, tanned chest exposed to all.

“Having fun there, Mr Miller?” You smiled, taking a seat on your chair, bringing your water bottle to your lips.

Joel lowered his sunglasses and very discreetly let his gaze travel down your body.

You bit back a grin. He always thought he was so subtle.

“Absolutely, coach. Need to set a timer, though, or I’ll end up medium well-done.” Joel sat up, facing you.

You snorted at his dad-humour.

“Tan looks great.” You commented, wiping your brow with your towel.

“You think?” Joel smiled, reaching for the can of soda on his side table and taking a sip. “Thank you very much, sweetheart.”

“No problem at all, Mr Miller.” You licked your lips, your gaze momentarily caught on his … form-fitting trunks. “Well, I better get back to it.”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t want to keep your boyfriend waiting.” He pushed his sunglasses back up his aquiline nose.

“My—oh! Oh. Bryan? No. Ew,” You held back a gag. “No. No. God, no.”

Joel chuckled.

“I think you may need one more ‘no’ to prove your point there, darlin’.”

“No.” You played along. “Him and I are strictly friends. Besides, he isn’t my type.”

“He isn’t?”

“I like my men like I like my cheese.” You shrugged, standing up.

“Don’t say smelly.” Joel laughed.

You opened your mouth but decided to leave your preferences shrouded in mystery as you began walking off.

Well, until you threw him a look over your shoulder, catching him in the act of staring at your ass, but pretending not to notice.

“Aged.”

Joel choked on nothing while you innocently walked away like you hadn’t just made a heavily suggestive remark.

—-

“Daddy? Can I go talk to Amanda for a second?” Sarah asked, her gaze flickering over to a plait-wearing blonde girl nearby.

“Yeah, okay, sugar. Be quick, though. Tommy’s coming over soon.” Joel squeezed her shoulder before letting her run off, her wet flip-flops squeaking against the tiled poolside as she approached her friend.

Joel shook his head and smiled. He was so proud of his girl for overcoming her phobia. Maybe he needed to treat her to ice-cream one of these days–

“Hi, Mr Miller.”

After craning his head, Joel found you standing behind him. Bright-eyed and wearing that same, impossibly tight, lifeguard swimsuit. Thank God for nylon.

“Hey, coach.” Joel offered you a lopsided grin.

“I just wanted to say, I’ve been really impressed with your daughter over these past few weeks.”

“She’s a fast learner.” Joel moved beside you, still facing Sarah and her little friend but keeping his eyes trained on you. “Unlike me.”

“Does she get it from your wife, then…?”

Joel couldn’t shake his head faster. “No wife.”

And there went his eyes, dragging down your slightly wet body. Christ, it was like you jumped straight out of a Baywatch episode—keep it together, Miller!

“Oh.” You coughed. “So that’s why all the moms flock around you.”

Joel let out a short laugh. “I think you’re exaggerating, sweetheart.”

You took a quick glimpse at the hoard of middle-aged women unabashedly staring at the wide-shouldered man next to you before returning your sights to the wide-shouldered man himself.

“I don’t think I am.” Your lips pulled upward in a small smile. “Well, anyway. Just wanted to catch you before our final lesson next week.”

“Our final lesson’s next week?” Joel sputtered out, sounding way less calm and collected than he had intended.

“Yeah. Unless you want to learn how to swim, too.”

“I think I’m all covered in that department, darlin’.” Joel smiled. “But thank you. For everything. I know this whole shindig is free, but I just wish there was some way I could repay you.”

You clicked your tongue and, if Joel caught that correctly, lowered your voice.

“I’m sure we can find some way for you to pay me back, Mr Miller.” You said innocently, but your half-lidded eyes told another story.

Before he could so much as utter out the first syllable of a reply, Sarah came darting back.

“Okay, Daddy, let’s go!” She took her father by the hand and spared you a glance. “Bye, coach!”

Joel tried to hide both his shock from your very obvious innuendo as well as his disappointment from his daughter’s very poor timing.

He rubbed a hand down the lower half of his face and nodded at his daughter. “Let’s go then, pumpkin.” He gripped her hand and turned to you with a slightly dazed smile. “I’ll see you next week, sweetheart.”

“That you will, Mr Miller.” With a quick wink, you spun around on your heel and made your way toward the shower rooms.

—-

As fate would have it, barely half an hour later, Joel found himself sighing unhappily and looking down at his daughter as he attempted to contain his frustrations.

“We just got home—what do you mean, you left your goggles at the pool?” Joel said through a deep exhale.

“Sorry, Daddy, I didn’t mean to forget them.” Sarah shuffled her feet, her eyes locked on the floor in front of her and her fingers twisting the bottom of her t-shirt.

Tommy stuck his head out from the kitchen, one hand clutching a can of Bud Light and the other braced on the doorframe.

“Yeah, Joel, she didn’t mean to.” He piped in, unhelpfully.

“Shut up, Tommy,” Joel grumbled, shooting him a quick glare.

His brother just smirked and took a sip of his beer.

Joel sighed and turned back to Sarah, pinching his nose bridge. “Look, pumpkin, it’s fine. I’ll just drive back to the pool and get ‘em for you, okay?”

Sarah frowned. “Will you be back in time for dinner?”

“Yeah, Joel, you better be. You’re the one making it.” Tommy let out a dramatic huff.

Joel ignored him.

“Won’t take but a hot minute.” Joel ruffled Sarah’s unruly curls and pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head before turning away toward the front door.

“Say ‘hi’ to sweetheart for me, if you see her!” Sarah smiled up at him.

Joel paused mid-step, his shoes halfway on.

“Hi to who, now?” Tommy leaned closer.

“That ain’t her name, pumpkin.” Joel chose not to look directly at Tommy as he huffed out another sigh and yanked his shoes fully on.

“Ain’t that what you call her, though?”

“Now, who are you callin’ ‘sweetheart’, Joel Miller?” Tommy wore a shit-eating grin on his face.

Joel decidedly ignored him, believing it to be the best course of action.

“Watch my kid, Tommy!” He called as he stepped out of the house.

—--

The pool area was mostly deserted by the time Joel returned to it, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows over the lengthy stretch of lane-roped waters.

Joel walked a slow lap around the perimeter of the pool, scanning the tiles and lounge chairs and the lone lifeguard tower for any sign of Sarah’s goggles.

Nothing.

Turning around, Joel’s eyes landed on the entrance to the womens’ locker rooms. He huffed out a heavy sigh, running his hand through his grey-flecked hair. He would have preferred to not snoop in there in fear of startling any lingering guests, but he decided that there wouldn’t be anyone this close to closing time on a Sunday and, moreover, didn’t want to come home empty-handed and disappoint his daughter.

So, on he went.

The locker rooms were quiet when he tentatively stepped inside, the scent of chlorine and cheap soap clinging to the air.

Fortunately, it seemed that he was the only one in its vicinity.

And, even more fortunately, Joel immediately spotted Sarah’s bright green goggles lying by its lonesome on a bench near the showers.

Gotcha.

He was ready to make a beeline for them and head quickly home, but upon taking a few steps forward, Joel’s ears caught the distant sound of a shower running.

Turning his head toward the source of the splashing sounds, Joel’s eyes immediately noticed a swimsuit hanging precariously off the shower curtain rod.

But not just any swimsuit. It was a red one-piece with what appeared to be ‘lifeguard’ in bold, along the front.

It was your swimsuit.

You were in the shower.

Joel pursed his lips. Just his fucking luck. Of course, the inappropriately young girl he tried not fantasising about for weeks was the only other person there.

Mentally chastising himself for even entering the locker rooms in the first place, Joel pivoted sharply and began making his way toward the exit.

He didn’t get very far, though, because, after two intentionally light steps, he heard his own name drifting from the steaming shower.

“Joel…”

He stiffened. Evidently, he was caught. He’d have to apologise profusely and somehow testify that he was not, in fact, a perverted Peeping Tom—

“Joel,” You sighed, followed by … shit, was that a moan?

And at that moment, Joel realised that, alongside the splashing of water echoing from the stall, there was the unmistakable clap and squelch of—

“Joel! Oh… fuck,” Your breathy moan carried easily down the short hall.

You were fucking yourself to the thought of him.

Shit, shit, shit.

If Joel were a better man, he would already be in his car, driving home. He would have forgotten this encounter had ever occurred, tucked it deep into the depths of his mind, granted you a curt farewell for the final lesson the coming week, and proceeded to never see you again.

But Joel wasn’t a better man.

Judging by how quickly his dick came to life to rest, half-hard, against his thigh in his swim trunks, Joel was an awful person.

Well, he couldn’t come home nursing a semi, now could he?

Yeah. Reaching down to pull his throbbing cock out of his waistband was the right thing to do.

At least, that’s what he told himself as he leaned against a corner and slowly slid his fist down his stiffening length.

“Joel! Fuck, your cock feels so good!” Your pitchy whine floated down the room, amplified by the generosity of the tile acoustics.

Joel’s dick twitched in his hand.

Out of habit, he tightened his grip around his base and fucked up into his fist, squeezing his eyes shut and pretending it was your tight cunt he was jutting in and out of.

And it wasn’t hard to pretend, either. What with the sinful noises you were making a few stalls away, and the desperate pleas of ‘that’s it, Joel, fuck me harder!’

With pearls of precum dribbling down his tip and smearing along his hand with each thrust, Joel felt himself near his release. Judging by the increasingly airy quality of your whines, you were facing the same predicament.

Joel continued to fuck his fist, picturing you in various filthy scenarios.

You, slowly wrapping your dainty hand around his hard-on and eagerly taking over.

You, on your knees, choking on his cock.

You, tits smushed against tile as Joel fucked you with reckless abandon under the hot torrents of the showerhead.

Ramming brutally into your greedy fucking pussy, watching as his come-soaked dick disappeared in and out of your tight channel—

“Fuck!” Joel cursed aloud after a particularly enthusiastic thrust.

Suddenly, the water stopped. So did your noises.

Joel stilled. Oh, shit.

“Hello?” Came your voice, meekly. “Is … Is someone there?”

As silently as he could, Joel released his hold on his cock and carefully tucked himself back in his trunks.

Shit. What was he going to do?

Almost immediately after he regained his decency, the shower curtain slid halfway open with a faint metallic rattle, and you cautiously peered out, hiding most of your body behind the vinyl barrier.

“...Mr Miller?” You said, uncertainly, as if half-convinced he was some kind of dreamlike apparition.

Joel cleared his throat and took an instinctive step back.

“Uh—yeah. Just, uh… goggles. Sarah’s goggles.” He stuttered, holding them up weakly. “Her goggles. She left them here. The goggles.”

“Well, thank god you clarified that.” You smacked your lips, a sarcastic bite to your tone. The snarkiness soon faded from your expression once you added, with knitted brows, “you’re in the womens’ showers.”

“Yeah, I—” Joel winced. “I know.”

Silence.

After a moment or two, you opened your mouth to say something else, but the words died in your throat as your eyes fell on Joel’s trunks.

More specifically, the raging bulge making itself known in his lap.

“You’re hard.” You stated, your cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink.

Joel’s eyes shot wide open. He glanced down, too, and sure enough, he was hard. It was almost as if he was fucking his hand to the thought of you only moments before. Oh, wait, that’s because he was!

To preserve the last shred of dignity in Joel’s inexecusably shameful body, he threw his hands over his groin and attempted to stammer out a valid excuse.

“Sorry, sweetheart—” No, he wasn’t. “—I, um… well, you see, I…”

Your eyes found the faint traces of precum on his right hand.

“Were you … jerking off to me in the shower?”

Yes, yes, he was.

“Frankly, darlin’, I think the better question here is, were you jerking off to me in the shower?” Joel coughed.

Your eyes trailed over his body, lingering again on where he covered his hard-on.

“I was.” Your stare found his. “Your turn, Mr Miller.”

Joel sucked in a breath through his teeth. There was definitely no backing out now.

He nodded slowly. Reprehensibly.

Shame churned within him as he desperately wished for the ground to open up at his feet and swallow him whole, possibly even spitting him back out into the fiery pits of hell where he so clearly belonged after what he had done. Unfortunately for him, the earth, indifferent to his suffering, remained stubbornly solid beneath him, leaving him stranded in his own mortification.

“Look, sweetheart, I can’t express how sorry I—lord almighty.”

Instead of letting him scramble to finish whatever bullshit he was cooking up, you decided to pull the shower curtain all the way back.

Joel gulped, taking in your newly-exposed bare body, from the soft curve of your breasts to the thickness of your thighs to the seam of your … fuck, to the seam of the same pussy you were probably fingering just moments before; glazed in glistening beads of water under the cool fluorescent lights.

You were fucking gorgeous.

So gorgeous, in fact, that Joel felt his cock fully spring to life at the sight of you, standing naked and dripping-wet from the rain of showerhead.

“Let me… let me help you out.” You bit your lower lip, your eyes hazy.

“H-Help me out?” Joel breathed, staggering backward, his hands still persevering to conserve his modesty.

You slowly approached him, stopping when any semblance of personal space was lost, and dropped down to your knees.

Jesus Fucking Christ.

Joel heard himself swallow.

“Don’t you want this, Mr Miller?” You looked up at him, your eyes pleading and almost doll-like from that angle.

While waiting for his response, your hands softly wrapped themselves around his, guiding them away from his lap to meet his tenting swim trunks head-on.

Joel, meanwhile, was busy trying to convince himself this wet dream of a situation was really happening whilst simultaneously refraining from spending his load in his trunks, because the vision of you, bare and waiting patiently on your knees, looked downright sinful.

“Doesn’t matter if I do.” Joel shook his head slowly, not registering the fact that his grip on the goggles loosened to a point where they fell to the floor in a dull clatter. “This… this is wrong.”

“The way I see it,” You hummed, your hands finding gentle purchase on his hips. “I’m naked. And already wet. And you’re…”

Your eyes flickered down to his bulge and wet your lips. Upon seeing this, Joel’s breath hitched in his throat.

“Ain’t there some—some rule against, I don’t know, a coach fraternising with a parent in this way?” Joel furrowed his brows, distractedly taking your chin in his hands and tilting your head upwards.

“No.” You eagerly let him direct you, moving at his will.

“You sure?”

“Positive.” The corners of your mouth pulled up in a small smile.

“What if someone comes—yeah, fuck it, I ain’t gonna keep pretending like I don’t want this.” Joel shook his head, his eyes dragging over you unabashedly.

“Oh yeah?” Your smile only widened.

“Go on then, darlin’.” Joel purred, his voice a low and rough timbre, his eyes overtaken with want. “What was it you said a while ago…? Help me out.”

With his less-than-reluctant approval, you tossed him another heart-stuttering wink, slipped your fingers past his waistband, and pulled him out.

And, fuck, you were not disappointed.

Joel was big, to say the least; in both length and girth, and you may have felt your cunt quivering at the mere thought of the possibility of taking him inside you later, but you were quickly overtaken by need upon seeing the drops of precum spilling from of his head.

With a hand wrapped around his base, you stuck your tongue out to lick a stripe up his length, tasting the salt of his skin and his arousal.

At your actions, Joel inhaled a sharp breath.

“You gonna finish what you started now?” Joel mused from above you, closing a fist around your grip on his cock and bringing it closer to your parted lips. He gently tapped your cheek with his free hand. “Open up for me, sweetheart.”

And you gladly did so, taking his tip into your mouth and swirling your tongue around his head like a fucking lolipop.

“Fuck,” Joel gritted his teeth, tossing his head back against the wall.

Taking his expletive as a sign to continue, you proceeded to hollow your cheeks and take his length deeper, as deep as physically possible without making you choke.

“That all you can take?” Joel tutted, caressing your cheek.

Much to your determined efforts, you only managed to fit a little more than half of him in your mouth. Because, fuck, was he big.

You whined around his cock in response.

“Shh,” Joel murmured. “‘S okay. ‘S okay, sweetheart.”

His deep brown gaze met yours, and for a second, you could have mistaken the emotion swimming in his eyes as affection.

“Nice and slow, hm?” Joel said through a satisfied exhale, his brows furrowed at the sensation of being enveloped by the warmth of your mouth.

His fingers threaded through your hair, coming to grasp at your roots, but remained stationary, waiting for you to make the first move.

You looked up at him through your eyelashes and held that eye contact as you began moving your head back and forth. Seeing his eyes briefly flutter in pleasure, you flattened your tongue against the underside of his cock, feeling it twitch as you continued your movements.

“Fuck, sweetheart. That’s it.” His grip in your hair tightened.

You started to bob your head up and down at a quicker pace as you sucked him greedily, your hand moving in deft strokes along the stretch of his length your mouth couldn’t entertain.

Joel cursed under his breath and guided you on and off his cock in a steady rhythm as he fisted your hair.

And, fuck, he let himself thrust into your mouth once or twice, but upon hearing you gag, resolved to let you take charge of the speed entirely.

“Sorry sweetheart,” Joel breathed. “Sounded pretty chokin’ on my cock, but I guess I went too far, hm?” He sighed, caressing your cheek again.

You moaned with his cock heavy on your tongue, signalling your eagerness to die of asphyxiation from a fucking blowjob, and begun to take him even further into your mouth, feeling his head touch the back of your throat.

“Shit, darlin’.” Joel groaned. “That’s a good girl. Taking it so well.”

A strangled sound escaped from your otherwise occupied throat as you continued to deepthroat a man old enough to be your father.

Truly realising the situation you found yourself in, you felt a needy sensation thrum from in between your legs. Whilst continuing to bob your head around his cock, your hand went to trail down your front and relieve some of that tension you ached to be rid of, rubbing your clit furiously.

“Oh, my poor girl.” Joel cooed, seeing this. “Come on, now. Up you get,” He gently pulled you off his cock (wincing at the loss of your mouth) and up to stand in front of him.

“Not good?” You breathed, resting a hand on his chest while his hands settled on either side of your waist.

“No, sweetheart, it was very good.” Joel dipped his head down so his mouth was less than an inch away from yours, every word releasing as a warm breath against your lips.

And then he leaned down to capture your mouth in a desperate, hungry, horribly sloppy kiss, licking into you and no doubt tasting his own arousal on your tongue.

You didn’t even register he was walking you backward until your back hit the shower wall.

“Just wanna fuck you now,” Joel mumbled, his half-lidded stare drifted down your bare form before flickering back up to meet your eyes.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” You smirked, pulling him back into another frenzied kiss.

Joel smiled against your lips.

“So mouthy,” He tutted in that authoritative, paternal voice you’ve heard him use before, in between eager kisses. “I’d like to teach you a lesson, sweetheart, but I’m afraid I’m too fuckin’ impatient myself right now.”

At the sound of that, you clenched your thighs together.

The slant of his mouth trailed down your jaw to your neck, sucking and biting at your wet skin, humming in pleasure as he did so. Simultaneously, his big, calloused hand made their way from your waist down to your lower abdomen, and lower, still, until you felt his fingers ghost over your slick entrance.

You gasped.

“Mr Miller–”

“‘Joel’, darlin’. It’s ‘Joel.’” He mumbled against your neck, his stubble scraping lightly against your skin. “Heard you moanin’ it in here a while ago, I’m fairly certain you know how to pronounce it.”

“Joel,” You obliged, biting your lower lip as you felt Joel’s fingers meander nearer to your core.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“You don’t have to… you know,” You glanced down in between both your bodies.

Joel followed your gaze and saw his own fingers hovering close to your aching mound.

“Think I do.” He clicked his tongue. “Need to get ya ready. Wouldn’t wanna hurt that pretty pussy of yours when I… well, to put it bluntly, darlin’, I don’t wanna hurt your pretty pussy when I’m fuckin’ you in a little bit.”

“Oh,” You breathed.

“Yeah,” Joel hummed, nudging your cheek with his nose. “That sound good to you, sweetheart?”

You nodded almost too avidly.

“Good,” Joel sighed, his fingers skimming over your aching cunt and just barely dipping inside your folds. “Just relax, darlin’. I gotcha.”

That was the last of the preamble before you felt one of his fingers slip inside, dragging up and down against your walls.

Normally, if left to your own devices, you were barely satisfied with a singular digit of your own. But here you were, gasping and clenching around just his middle finger.

Content with your reaction, Joel kissed your neck and slipped another finger to crook alongside the first in an even rhythm that began to spark a familiar warmth in your gut.

“There we go.” He mumbled against your skin.

“Fuck,” You whispered as you felt his thumb settle on your clit.

You felt Joel smile against your pulse point. And then, with his other big hand, he gently held your face and titled it to the side to pepper kisses along your jaw.

“You can take another, can’t you? Yeah, you can.” Joel hummed, and before you could respond, you felt a third finger slip inside, stretching you wider.

Your eyes squeezed shut as Joel’s fingers curled inside you at a faster rhythm while his thumb graciously swiped at your clit.

Blood pounded in your ears. Your breathing shallowed. You were so, so close.

“Joel, please…”

“Please what? C’mon, baby, use your words like a big girl.”

His fingers only sped up, dragging against your walls so deliciously and filling you better than your own hand could have ever done.

You inhaled.

“Please don’t s-stop.” Your breath hitched in your throat. “I’m so close.”

“You wanna come for me? ‘S that it?” Joel cooed, his breath warm against your skin and right beside your ear.

“Please,”

“Come for me then, sweetheart. Let me hear you,”

With a scream of his name, your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave, sending you into a light-headed bliss as you clutched his big upper arms.

His fingers only began to slow once your cunt stopped pulsing rapidly around him, and when you caught your breath again, he tenderly slipped them out.

“Made a mess of my fingers, huh?” He mumbled, staring down at how his hand glistened with your arousal.

You felt your cheeks redden.

“I’m sorry–”

“Don’t fucking be,”

And you watched as Joel stuck a finger in his mouth and sucked your slick off it like it was a world-class dessert.

“That was hot,” Was your breathless response.

Intelligent.

“Oh yeah?” The corner of his lips tugged upward as his eyes danced from your own to your parted lips.

“Yeah,”

A soft, low laugh rumbled in his throat.

“Come here,” Joel sighed, placing a hand on the small of your back and another on the side of your face, leaning down to devour your lips in another messy kiss.

His tongue slid inside your mouth as if starved, licking against your tongue and letting you taste your own pleasure. All while the hand on your face brought you closer and gently stroked the curve of your cheek.

After a few moments, Joel broke the kiss almost regretfully.

He barely pulled away, his lips closely within reach of yours, and his breath mingling with your own as he spoke in a deep, gruff rasp.

“You still want this, sweetheart?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Joel smirked. “A simple ‘yes’ would’ve sufficed.”

Before you could form a response to his slightly snarky remark, your breath was stolen from you at the sight of Joel tugging down his trunks fully and stepping out of them.

Glancing down, you found that he was still incredibly hard. Almost painfully, by the look of how his cock practically bounced up to his navel. Clearly, your recent oral assistance did nothing to tame the lust in his body.

Joel crowded you up against the wall once more, his tall frame easily looming over yours. One of his big hands went to caress your jawline, angling your head up toward him, and the other went to your thigh, wrapping your leg around his waist.

“Been a while for me.” He sighed, a hint of embarrassment peeking through his tone. “You tell me if I get … carried away, yeah?”

Instinctively, you hung your arms around his wide shoulders, bringing him even closer.

“Yes, sir.” Your lips quirked upward.

“Good girl,” He hummed, his thumb absently running along your bottom lip.

Then, the hand cupping your face went to guide his aching dick to notch against your entrance, sliding against your wet mound.

And, with a shaky inhale slipping past his lips, he sheathed himself inside you.

“Fuck, you feel good,” Joel muttered lowly.

You let out a whine at the feeling.

Despite being barely halfway in, Joel was already proving to be more than sufficient, especially from the way your velvety walls were already pulsing wildly around his length.

“I know, I know, I know,” Joel sighed, his thumb caressing where he held a grip on your thigh. “‘S okay, sweetheart. Shh, you can take it.”

In response, you nodded.

And Joel drove himself the entire way, balls-deep, his greying pubic hair tickling the inside of your upper thighs. He gasped in your ear at the feeling of the first full thrust and at the sensation of your channel clamping desperately around him.

He filled you up so fucking well.

“You doin’ okay? Hm?” He mumbled, leaving lazy, aimless kisses along your neck.

“Need more.”

“Oh? She wants more, huh?” He smirked against your skin. “That what you were imaginin’ in the shower?”

“Y-Yeah,” You whispered.

“Flirtin’ with me for weeks now, and here you are bein’ all shy.” Joel tsked. “Don’t worry, you’ll get more, darlin’.”

Joel began sawing in and out of you at a relaxed pace, letting out low groans of satisfaction.

With every sloppy thrust, you heard the distant wet thud of your back against the shower tiles, sounding in a steady rhythm. But, despite each measured roll of his hips sending white-hot shivers throughout your throbbing cunt, you found yourself dangerously craving even more.

“Harder.”

“Harder?” Joel hummed coyly.

“Joel,” You whined.

“Careful what you wish for, sweetheart,” Joel mumbled against the corner of your mouth.

You only realised you were moaning obscenely loud when the echo had bounced around the room, and Joel was muttering something encouragingly into your skin.

“That’s it. Y’sound real fuckin’ pretty.”

Joel’s thrusts had picked up the pace. The only sound competing with the volume of your moans were the crude wet slaps of his body against yours.

Slap, slap, slap.

You thanked your lucky stars the shower rooms were deserted after the swimming lessons, because you were sure even if someone happened to walk in on you two fucking like wild rabbits, you wouldn’t let him stop.

And some part of you knew that he wouldn’t want to, either. Not with the way he was breathing airy curses beside your ear and mumbling about how ‘fuckin’ tight’ you were and other such filthy ramblings.

After a particularly harsh thrust, you felt his pace falter and his dick twitch against your walls.

“Fuck,” He whispered sharply.

Out of the blue, Joel pulled out, leaving your slick mound vacant for a heartbeat or two before he spun you around roughly, forcing you to brace yourself against the wall.

And, not long after, he fed you the entirety of his cock again in one deep thrust.

“Joel!” You gasped.

Your hands, stretched out in front of you and anchored against the wall, scrambled to find a grip on the smooth, slippery surface.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He said from somewhere behind you, beginning to ram into you at a brutal pace as he held you in place with an iron grip on your hips. “Needed—fuck… Needed this.”

With your tits pressed against the tiles and his length kissing your cervix after every drag against your pulsing walls, your vision began to blur and your lower gut began to flutter.

You were very fucking close.

As if reading your mind, one of Joel’s hands trailed from your hip to your front, sliding down until he brushed your clit. And then he began rubbing the sensitive nub in sloppy semi-circle motions, tutting sweet words as you whined nonsensical syllables.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let me hear you,” He cooed soothingly.

You let out a pitchy whine, “feels so good.”

“That right?” Joel mumbled distractedly, using a rough hand on your neck to turn your head toward him despite the awkward angle, and claimed your lips hungrily, licking desperately into your mouth as if it was the last thing he’d ever do, and letting out hoarse noises of appreciation as he did so.

His hips continued to jut into you, setting an erratic, jerky pace.

Slap. Slap-slap. Slap. Slap-slap-slap.

You arched back against him and unintentionally broke the kiss when the overflowing pleasure spiked incredibly high.

“J-Joel,” You breathed.

The man, who was single-mindedly pistoning in and out of your splayed legs, hummed a sound of acknowledgment in response, his warm breath ghosting over your cheek.

“Joel, I’m close,” You whispered, the heat of both your bodies meeting where your back leaned against his front.

“Are you?” He replied almost casually.

His fingers only sped in their motions, swiping at your clit almost feverishly as he continued to rut animalistically into you; each thrust stretching your aching cunt impossibly wide and oh so easily finding your cervix—

“Fuck!” Your chest tightened.

“Ask for it.” Joel’s gentle yet commanding tone nearly made your knees buckle.

That, and the manic force at which he was fucking into you.

Slap–slap-slap-slap—

“Go on, baby. Ask.” His nose nudged at the side of your face, breathing in your scent as he tutted lowly, “hate to see you all worked up like this.”

“Shit—please! Can I come, please?” You acquiesced.

You felt the muscles of his rugged face pull up in a small smile against your cheek and his dick twitch inside your tight walls, sending shivers down your spine.

“Be a good girl and come for me then, sweetheart,” Joel said in between strained breaths. “Come all over my cock, I gotcha.”

Your climax came rippling over your whole body, a prolonged resonance that sent you into the territory of overstimulation—much more powerful than your first orgasm—as neither his fingers nor his cock slowed down in their frenzied pursuits.

So, there you were, chanting his name like a prayer and clenching tightly around his relentless length.

When the fluttering of your cunt subsided, Joel hurriedly pulled out and wrapped a hand around his throbbing cock, fucking up into his fist frantically and cursing under his breath. You all but folded against the wall as you felt his loss, sticking your ass out and waiting for the inevitable.

Soon, his breath caught in his throat, and you felt hot ropes of his come spill over your back.

“Shit.” Joel sighed, gently rubbing along your sides.

He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder once he recollected himself a few moments after, still softly trailing his hands up and down as both of your breaths evened.

“You okay over there, sweetheart?”

You nodded weakly, unable to voice your satisfaction with your brains all fucked out.

Joel huffed a short laugh. “C’mon, I’ll clean you up.”

Somewhere behind you, the shower handle groaned with a faint squeak. A dull clunk followed, and then, with a sudden rush, water erupted from the showerhead, dousing the two of you in a sputtering cascade.

Gently, Joel tugged you away from the wall to stand directly under the jet of water, softly helping you wash away any reminders of your reckless impropriety.

He pressed reverent kisses along your jaw, down your neck, and around your collarbone as you got cleaned up.

There was no hidden, lustful agenda to this, as far as you could tell. You assumed it was either a result of his years of fatherhood or some testament to his overall caring nature, but either way, you weren’t complaining. You happily let your eyes fall closed as sheets of warm water streamed down your body, all while Joel’s lips tentatively found yours, then your neck, and his strong hands moved along your body.

“Um…” Joel began after he had turned off the shower, looking at you with his big, soft eyes. “I know this is the completely wrong order of things, but would you like to–”

“Yes.”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You didn’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“Were you gonna ask me out on a date?”

“Yeah,” Joel laughed bashfully. "Is that... is that okay?"

You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, and rising on your tiptoes to meet his lips in a lazy kiss.

“The answer’s yes.” You mumbled without breaking away for too long.

You felt Joel smile against your lips.

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