#first my dad left and never looked back
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lol how do you heal abandonment issues when you canât get someone to stick around long enough to convince yourself that youâre worth anyoneâs time??
#Iâve been abandoned by everyone I care about#first my dad left and never looked back#then my mom emotionally abandoned me after subjecting me to years of emotional incest once she found her husband#Sam never actually cared about me and dumped me as soon as he started getting dicked down by the dude that was in love with his sister#I know itâs not me and that Iâm not the problem - itâs just hard to really feel it when everyone leaves me#Iâm so thankful for my roommate because sheâs in the same boat for the most part#but I seriously donât know how to help myself here
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Uh oh heâs also cute (Patreon)
#Doodles#UT#Asgore#How dare#Lol#Some non-Handplates Asgores for funsies! Mostly for studies tbh but for funsies! Lol#Also an excuse to try out which side I prefer for the orange-blue heterochromia because I mean - I have to in general but which side! Lol#I think I did end up liking orange-blue right-left (or left-right if you're looking at him lol) but it was nice to test âȘ#That first one was actually doodled last but it's more clearly based off his overworld sprite than any of the others so#He's got an interesting hairline :0 Floofs but not very much in his face - but when he looks down! It's interesting like I said lol#I am partial to a pulled-back look just in general haha#Pulled back around his horns is fun hehe#I was also surprised with how difficult I find it to draw his horns?? I tend to make them way too thin but I'm not sure how or why??#My hand just does whatever and it gets confused lol#It's not like horns are new to me just this shape is confusing#I'm also glad I went back and drew the angel clasp and his pauldrons properly his silhouette was very off lol#Not that he needs them all the time he looks very cute in just his dad shirt! But with his cloak they are Necessary lol#I know he's way closer to the end of the game and I'm nowhere near that but it does make me want to get back to Actually playing sometime#Having never officially met him is funny and strange lol
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grabbing rainbow sherbet vodka for the stream because I know it's what ichi would want đ€
bro grabbing that fucking super mario vodka what the shit đ
#snap chats#i dont know what im gonna get...... i SHOULD get soju since i can get more for cheaper#and soju's more potent now innit... but i am a sake fan... sake my best friend..#but i like my sake hot. unless its nigori then OF COURSE you have to have it chilled....#gddammit i left my shot glass at my moms. i didnt think id need it </3#maybe sake's the game then.....#just to make sure i dont ACTUALY black out NO DID I TELL THE TIME I BLAKCED OUT FOR THE FIRST AND ONLY TIME#ILL TELL IT AGAIN SINCE ITS TOPICAL IT WAS THE NIGHT OF MY SISTER'S WEDDING#and i went out post-wedding drinking with my dad and my sis and her hubby yeah#and /im/ a master of acting like im fine when im not when i care to and since i never want to look A Fool in front of my father again#i acted fine after i reached the point where I Very Much Was Not Fine#LIKE THERE WERE DRINKS AT THE WEDDING OOFC BUT I ALSO GOT SOME WHISKEY AT A BAR WE WENT TO#AND SO EVENTUALLY MY DAD AND HIS WIFE AND I ALL GO BACK TO THE HOTEL WE'RE ALL STAYING AT#god theyre so embarrassing i was walking (read: wobbling) back to the room i shared with my bro#and theyre just :) đ Good Niiiight We're Gonna Watch You Go Until You're Safe :) đ <- im literally down the hall from them#and the fucking. SECOND i get into my room im just hhoUUGGHGHHH BROTHER OF MINE. WHAT IS HAPPENING#i dont remember what happened i know i started watching Why Dont You Play In Hell again and then i suddenly woke up in my bed#I WAS ON THE COUCH LIKE I CANNOT STRESS THE ABRUPTNESS OF ME WAKING UP IN BED#I SAT ON THE COUCH TO WATCH THE MOVIE I THINK I GOT 27 MINUTES IN AND I BLINKED AND I INSTATRANSMISSIONED#hilarious. anyway i refuse to let that happen ever again AFLKEFJKAJ#so sake's the call. i think. idk we'll see what my wallet thinks cause the sake is a lil pricier than the soju..#it a special occasion live a little. is what ill tell myself â ïž
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#have been an anxious lil piece of shit since my mother walked past/then in my room bc she smelled something-#this was yesterday btw .. first thing she said was 'u dont vape do u?' and i was like 'no' *queue john mulaney voice: like a liar*#ok well technically only on occasion like if i dont have w**d#anyway she steps into my room and starts fuckin sniffing around and goes 'it smells like .. weed đ' and just looked at me and guys ..#i am the WORST but my mothers brother aka my gay uncle got kicked out when they were younger bc he smoked too and my mother has grown to#not be fond of it since . so BASICALLY i lightly gaslit her and was like 'mom. seriously ? đ'#bc we joke about it on occasion like she went to denver and came back with a fuckin pot that says 'a little pot from colorado' meant for#weed and in my head im like đ bro i could actually use this đ#so thats how we joke but obviously for me its genuinely funny bc of the irony but anyway .#my anxiety was so high after that bc i literally had my pen on me and i just left the situation and started petting my dog and filled up my#waterbottle trying to think of what the fuck i was going to do next but that was literally the end of that#(at least for now but i dont even want to jinx it)#to be proactive tho bc newsflash i do smoke! i got smart as shit and wrapped my smell proof combo bag to make it look like a gift for my#my friends when i go back to school so she wont think anything of it#and then put my pen old battery and vape in a box hidden away so i can still access them if i need but god DAMN#i was def just being stupid tho bc i forget when im at home i cant be so lax and rip the shit out of my pen with my door closed and no fan#anymore like đ u dumb fuck i was smarter at 16 with this shit#anyway. its definitely on me and im just mad at myself for it and hope it doesnt come up again/that she isnt overly paranoid with me like i#am with myself rn#also just for some more background my mom and i have never been super close but im really close with my dad but i love with my mom ? so#after this semester not just bc of this situation but i might be like. ive never had a room at dads and id like to at least for summer#and go from there. they just moved and its so cozy and id love to make my room mine over there for once even if it means moving in for abit#but the one thing that would absolutely break my heart is that my dog lives with my mom and its not like i couldnt still see her but i feel#like id feel guilty/like im abandoning her or something :'(#idk if anyone read this far pls lmk ur thoughts#oh and i work right by my moms so its not like i couldnt still visit her but it would break my heart#kylas thoughts#drugs /
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I was really productive today and i'm trying to be proud of myself but theres nothing like being reminded by my family that they consider me lesser and an after thought to kill my mood and motivation
#vark posts#dont rb#all i did was ask my dad and my sister if they wanted to play mc and an hour later i get some half assed 'idk'#ik that might not seem like much but this happens everytime i make some attempt to spend time with them#whatever i suggest is never good enough and i'm lucky if i even get texted first#they never personally inv me over and everytime ive pointed it out theyve spun it around on me#they even go so far as to ignore me and put me down in person#maybe its time i go low contact#i so badly want things to go back to how they used to be but nothin good is gonna come out of putting myself in this situation over and ove#i responded to the idk text with 'you can just say no. its not that big a deal' and ik thats gonna piss my dad off#so i havent looked at my phone since#nothin like family trauma to make me use desktop tumblr lol#sorry to vent this like all happened at most 10 mins since posting this#and im very hurt#anyways fuck them check out the shit i did today#i took out the trash + worked out + did the dishes + started a russian study journal#+ cleaned and disinfected 1 of 4 cobweb and spider covered chairs so now we have a chair for the dining table!#cleaned the chair outside on my apts front porch while it was raining so it was actually pretty nice and peacful#wasnt playin any music or anything just listening to the rain and letting myself get swept up in chair cleaning lmao#im a bad bitch as soon as im left home alone all day
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I went into speech therapy 10000% sure that 1) If I moved people would think my lisp was an accent and respect it and 2) that anyone who matters will put in the effort to understand me. And I was right!!!
Forced speech therapy is the same as ABA therapy with the same effects. You're sat down to be told that the way you do it is inherently wrong. You're taught to pick your behavior to pieces and analyze it to manually do it the "correct" way that everyone else just does naturally.
I immediately disregarded everything they tried to teach me and refused to do my assigned homework for it so it didn't work. (Good. I never wanted it to.)
But I did get an anxiety induced stutter from it and heavy non-gender related vocal dysphoria that makes it so I have a panic attack if I hear my own voice. I hate having it recorded and if someone turns on speaker phone so my voice bounces back to me I can't talk to them.
I wish they taught me sign language instead. Or if even people had the patience for you to get out a pen and paper to switch to communicating with writing. Would've saved me a lot of trauma and internalized ableism,
i love you lisp i love you stutter i love you pressured speech i love you damaged vocal cords i love you aphasia i love you mutism i love you selective mutism i love you deaf voice i love you apraxia i love you speech delay i love you vocal tic i love you articulation disorder i love you sign language
i hate you societal norm to make fun of speech impediments i hate you âget it fixedâ mentality i hate you mocking someone for the way they communicate i hate you âgo to speech therapy so your kid wonât be bulliedâ i hate you i hate you i hate you
#ableism#child abuse#tbh half of why I was in denial about being autistic and fought to get my IEP removed#was because much of their ''help'' actively hindered me and they wouldn't listen to what I said!#when I got to high school any actual accommodations were gone#and I was just left with being pulled out of class to talk to a therapist I didn't trust and go to speech ''therapy''#hey guess who had to make up missed classwork on their own#and was signaled out because they got pulled out of class on a regular basis?#THIS GUY#the other half was my dad's influence because he's blatantly an undiagnosed autistic person#and determined to stay that way#because of his own ableism#autism is genetic soooooooooooo his kids can't have thhhaaaaaattt#because they'll look at the guy who can't hold down a job or maintain friendships#and all his other issues stemming from never learning how to cope#*relationships in general#he's extremely divorced#amazed that he got remarried but I hope it's only a matter of time because he's an asshole#and already started to mistreat her after the wedding#literally sat her down before the wedding to tell her about just how fucked up he is and how he had no interest in genuinely changing#btw his first fiance went and got my mom's number when she was picking us up#then conveniently went out of state to take care of her mother and never came back#smart move
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wtvr. i ate some crepes
#everybody else was gone except my mom so i just. ate in silence#it sucked. they were good but like. the crepes r nice bc its like the only time we eat together and we usually dont fight#but i ruined the whole thing#and then when i was on my last plate lamp asked if my dad was 'allowed back in' bc he was worried he was upsetting me#i never said he wasnt allowed back in he didnt even fucking. he wasnt involved in it anyway#i judt feel like such a fucking awful person#and he didnt even come back in after i said yes but i was in my last crepe so i came back into my room#but hes gonna think i left just so i didnt hsve to be near him and thats. not it i. i was hoping hed come out so i could clear it up and sa#ty for the crepes#but i just look like a stupid ungrateful piece of shit now so. whagever#i texted him 2 say thanks and that the crepes were good so .#feels weird i never text him first#and when he texts me its usually just like. cmere. so its weird to text him#but i feel so horrible abt like. all of it.#but the spiteful part of me is like Yes sorry that i had a ptsd moment . if only there was something you all couldve done . so that i would#not have ptsd. Oh well ! things are as they are. but thats me being whiny and its my fault for like. all of it. idk
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â đđđ đđđđ đđđđ đđđđ ! â
â THE FOUR TIMES YOUR NEIGHBOR TRIES TO HOOK UP WITH YOU AND THE ONE TIME HE SUCCEEDS !! â
⧠pairing: uncle! sukuna x neighbor! reader
⧠summary: you had grown up next door to the itadoris, but you never had met their uncle. and for good reason, he had spent the majority of his life in and out of jail. but now he was finally out, and he only had one goal in mind -- getting you in his bed.
⧠warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, modern au, uncle sukuna, degradation (slut, whore, brat), freshly out from jail sukuna, implied age gap (sukuna probably like late 30s / early 40s, reader is like mid twenties), wet dreams (f!), masturbation (f! +m!), dom!sukuna, sub!reader, dirty talk, oral (f + m), spanking (f!receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, orgasm delay (f! receiving), implied multiple rounds, swearing, fanart found on pinterest (let me know if you know the og artist)
⧠w/c: 8,939
You were a pretty little thing.Â
Thatâs what he thought when he first saw you. And when he saw you smile, his second thought was â how could he have you?Â
You were the girl next door. Literally. Grew up next to the Itadori family, you watched the brat on weekends, helped around the house after the mom had left, and even slept over some nights in the guest room.Â
The very room you were in now, pinned underneath him, legs spread as your cunt gushed as if you had been the one doing time instead of him.Â
âFuck, girl, did the boys your age not fuck you properly?â He clicks his tongue, the glint of his piercing in the low light of the moonlight that illuminated the barest hint of the room. It was by that light that you could not only see the way his lips curled into a smirk as his hand came down on your needy pussy, but the noticeable bulge in his pants, âgânna have to fix that,â as he thumbs meanly at your swollen clit, âIâll have you screaming my name soon enough.âÂ
âAre the cookies almost done?â Yuji asked, rubbing the back of his head, squinting at the cookies through the oven window, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, âsure youâre not burning them?âÂ
âI know how to bake cookies, Yu,â you roll your eyes, as you clean the counters off of the flour and bits of dough and sugar that smeared the surface, âwhy are you so impatient anyway?âÂ
âHe wants to leave before the wrecking ball blows through, and you should do that same,â Choso adds, emerging from his room with a yawn, and you tilt your head, his gaze slides to Yuji, âshe doesnât know?âÂ
Yuji shakes his head, âI thought Dad wasââÂ
Choso glances at you, gesturing to his face to tell you that you had something on your own, before his eyes slide back to his younger brother, âYou know Jin can barely remember to tell us, much lessââÂ
You cross your arms, wiping the flour and sugar from your cheek, but you only manage to make it worse, âCan you guys just tell me instead of having an argument about who should have told me?âÂ
Yuji sighed, leaning against the counter, elbow propped up as he held his head up with his fist flat against his chin, âMy dadâs brother is coming to stay for us for the summer,âÂ
âYour uncle?â and you miss the way Yuji grimaces at the question, too busy pulling on oven mitts, âYour dadâs great â I canât imagine your uncle being any different,â you pull the cookies from the oven, swatting Yujiâs hand as he tries to take one off the still burning rack, âyouâll burn yourself, just wait,âÂ
Your own family was scattered here and there now â and the Itadoris had been like your own family as you grew up â Jin was like a second dad to you, he had always looked after you, even after you had graduated from college. The quiet man didnât say much but he did a lot, and you couldnât imagine his brother being much different.Â
And then the door swung open, a large man caught in the backlight of the summer sun, casting a long shadow across the entryway made your breath stick in your chest as if it was where it belonged â pinned under his mere presence.Â
âLooks like youâve done nothing to change the place, did you?â He takes a step or two in and finally his body is cast into view â tattoos bound like ribbons against his skin, muscles are heavy cords that look more monstrous than human â as no human should be as hulking as he was. But that was nothing compared to his face itself â black tattoos lining both sides of his face in an intricate pattern that stole your breath from your lungs, while his eyes were black holes that cut right through you than at you, a flicker of flames burning underneath, âtch, brat, take my things upââ he tosses the duffle bag slung over his shoulder at Yuji who catches it with a glare, before his gaze slides to Choso, âand heâs still here?âÂ
âDonât be rude to my son and his brother, Sukuna,â Jin sighed, entering behind him as he shut the door, âChoso is welcome, and donât forget youâre a guest here,â he takes the bag from his son, and takes it upstairs instead.Â
And Sukunaâs gaze finally falls on you. Itâs heavy, the sharp tip of a sword tracing every inch of your body as it circled its weak points â his eyes lingers on the curves of your body â and perhaps the points he liked too.Â
âAnd whoâs this?â he jerks his head towards you gruffly, as if you couldnât answer yourself.Â
You say your name, âIâm their neighbor,â and he nods, eyes darting to Choso, his body growing tense, as he gritted his teeth, but Sukuna was only all smiles, he took steps forward. You canât help but avert your gaze, as he approaches, fingers outstretched, a slight flinch but itâs gone soon enough.Â
You glance up, and find him taking a bite of one of your cookies, tongue darting out to lick the chocolate from his lips, âsweet,â he devours it, ânot bad, brat,â and he leans close again to grab another, âbut probably not as sweet as you.âÂ
And your eyes widen, as he bears no reaction, except for a small smirk that graces his lips, as he follows his brother upstairs, âYou better not be fucking around in my things,âÂ
You donât hear Jinâs reply, still utterly consumed by what just happened.Â
âYou okay? Heâs just like that,â Choso murmurs, âhe wonât bother you, I promise,âÂ
âNo, no, Iâm okay,â your lips curl in an offer of reassurance, but youâre sure it falls flat, as your eyes glance back at the stairs.Â
And that was your first time meeting Sukuna.Â
But far from your last. Â
The next time you saw him was at a summer barbecue the Itadoris always had to kick off summer break. And most of your time was spent chatting with Choso and kicking Yujiâs ass at Mario Kart, until it grew dark, and Choso was stuck carrying a slightly tipsy Yuji inside.
You laid back in the patio chair, scrolling on your phone to the symphony of cicadas filling the silence, the smoke from the barbecue still lingering in the night â and then you hear the creak of the back door open.Â
âYou want another drink, Choso?âÂ
âIâd love a drink, girl,â and your eyes snap over to spot Sukuna, standing with hands tucked into his pockets, a black tank you assumed was several sizes too small.Â
âSure,â you say, slipping from your chair, âbut we only have the mix for a sex on the beach,â and his eyes find yours, a ghost of a gruff chuckle on his lips.Â
âSounds perfect if itâs from you, sweetheart,â and you have to suppress the urge to roll your eyes â he may be nice to look at, but he isnât smooth, you make the drink in relative silence. Until you sense his presence behind you, your head whipping back to find him looming, your breath caught in your throat.Â
âUhââÂ
âJust wanted to see a master bartender at work, you seem like you really know what youâre doing, with, whatâs the drink called again?â And you force yourself to look forward, ignoring the weird mix of his musk and alcohol, with the clink of the ice cubes against the glsd breaking the silence.Â
âSex on the beach,â you offer it to him, and fuck, you donât like it â donât like him and his smug grin, the way your eyes canât pull away from his, the way your heart clenched, and the way you wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug smile on off his face.Â
âGood girl,â he plucks the drink from you, his fingers brushing yours, âwant to have one with me?âÂ
And you almost find yourself saying yes, find yourself buckling under the heat of his gaze and the summer humidity that clings to your skin and strangles the sense from your head â and you canât help but think how nice those fingers of his would feel around your neckâ
âNo, no, I probably should head home. Itâs lateââ and just then the back door opens again, Choso standing in the doorway, âChoso, whereâs Yu?âÂ
âI got him to bed. Come on, Iâll walk you home,â and you nod, grabbing your bag with a slight nod to Sukuna before disappearing inside, and you donât catch the way your best friend glares at Sukuna.Â
And you donât see the way Sukuna stares at you as you walk away either.Â
The third time you meet Sukuna is a few nights later â and it wasnât for lack of trying to avoid him.Â
âCan I have some popcorn?â you ask, eyes still glued to the TV, a movie that the two of you had seen a million times before during movie night, âChoso?â you glance over at him, but heâs staring off into space, âhello?â you nudge him, and he finally comes to.Â
âSorry, what?â And you sigh, leaning over and grabbing the popcorn bowl, âsorry I was justââ he shakes his head, ânothing,âÂ
âYouâre so convincing,â and you see a flush crawl up his neck, âCâmon, whatâs bothering you?âÂ
You toss a pillow at Choso, the pillow bouncing off his face to land in his lap, the glow of the TV in his dark bedroom giving you enough light to see the glare on his face, âCho, youâve been brooding all night â did Yuji call you by your name instead of big brother?âÂ
He scoffs, âI only got upset about that once,â or twice or maybe ten times, âitâs Sukuna. Heâs been really grating on my nerves,â and your eyebrows knit together, as you put the volume of the TV down.Â
âWhat has he done?â and Choso hesitates, several emotions flicker across his face before a stoic look glazes over his face, as he presses his hand to his lips, âyou can tell meââÂ
Thereâs a knock at the door, and Yuji sticks his head in, âHey, Dad has to sleep now for a meeting, so move to the living room,â and you throw popcorn at him, but he only catches one or two in his mouth and leaves.Â
You sigh, âI should probably just go home anyway, I have to get some sleep,â you glance at Choso, who is fascinated with his floor all of a sudden, âyou okay?â He moves to get up, but you shake your head, âjust chill, Iâll walk back.âÂ
He opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it, âIâm fine, just get home safe okay?â
You snort, âthink Iâll be fine walking the ten feet to my door,â you grab your things, âIâll see you tomorrow,âÂ
And you close the door softly, turning to head up the hallway and out of the house, bag slung over your shoulder, and youâre turning the corner, when you nearly crash into someone.Â
A hand curls around your wrist to steady you, âYou should watch where youâre going, brat,â and your eyes flit up to find a dark gaze looking back down at you, lips curled in a small grin, âdonât know what youâll find wandering these halls,âÂ
You pull your arm away, âIâm pretty familiar with these halls and what wanders them,âÂ
âNot all of them,â the low tone of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, as you brush past him, avoiding his piercing gaze, cutting through you with practiced ease, âwhat were you doing here so late anyway?â You ignore him as you go to grab your shoes, but find them missing.Â
âHave you seen my shoes?â and he only tilts his head, arms crossed, muscles inked with tattoos that littered up and down, and you knew he could pin you down with barely an ounce of effort.Â
âMaybe answer my question and Iâll tell you,â and your lips twist into a scowl, as you begin to look around, checking the coat closet, under the couch, âwas he really that bad?â And his question makes you pause, âthe cursed brat, in bed? Did he not do the job for you?âÂ
You haul yourself to your feet, âWhat is your problem?âÂ
And his expression is as milquetoast as ever, as if he had asked you about the weather as opposed to asking if you had fucked your best friend, âYou donât have to be fucking sensitive, itâs just a question,â he runs his painted nails through his dyed cropped hair, low light glinting off the black sheen, âunless it was that bad,âÂ
âFuck off,â you scoff, trying to walk past him but he blocks you, âwhat?âÂ
âMaybe Iâll help you find your shoes, if you have a drink with me,â and you cross your arms.Â
âDid you go to jail for stealing? Because with all those muscles and tattoos, Iâm surprised you werenât caught sooner,â and heâs leaning closer, breath warming your lips and your blood alike, boiling under your skin as if he had set you on fire without lying a single finger on you.Â
âDidnât take you to be one to admire me, little one, after all, Iâm just your neighborsâ uncle arenât I? Jailbird, criminal, fucking lowlife, right? And his fingers ghost over your jaw, âbut I donât see you pulling away, do I?âÂ
And you arenât. But why arenât you? Every brain cell is telling you to fucking run, but your body wants nothing more than to lean into his touch, to give in, let yourself be engulfed by himâ
The creak of the door has you jumping back, âhey, you forgot your shoesââ Choso starts, and his gaze snaps between you and Sukuna.Â
âThanks, Cho,â you slip past Sukuna, grabbing your shoes, âi was wondering what I did with them,â you step into your shoes, cheeks still burning as you canât quite meet your best friendâs eyes, âIâll see you tomorrow,âÂ
And youâre gone without another word, the silence of your exit hanging overhead as the screen door clicks closed behind you. Sukuna watches you leave, and as he turns heâs met with a glare from Choso.Â
Sukuna only gives a gruff chuckle, walking past as he lets his shoulder bump against Chosoâs, âWhat are you fucking looking at?âÂ
And now he had visited you in your dreams too.Â
âSâfucking wet,â Sukuna has you pinned down with one hand, face hovering over your drenched cunt, as he toyed with it, tugging your folds apart to let some of your pre drip onto your bedspread, âfucking slut, you were begging for this, werenât you?âÂ
And a thick digit sinks into you with little resistance, making your back arch as pleasure rips up your spine, âfuck off,â you manage, between pants.Â
âI know, brat, thatâs what Iâm trying to do,â he laughs, as he works a second finger inside you with practiced ease, âlike I was made to fuck this cunt open, my fingers are already fucking drenched, and all Iâve done is open you up,â and to punctuate his point, heâs scissoring his fingers to stretch your walls out, dragging against them, as your mouth falls open in a silent moan.Â
âA-ah, pleaseââ and heâs grinning now, a purr as he leans down to meet your blown out gaze. His fingers begin to fuck you open, his thumb rubbing against your clit as your body rocked against his hand. And a grunt has you looking at him, only to see him palming his erection, slit dripping with precum, âSukuna, pleaseââÂ
âKnew youâd be a good girl fâme, good little slut gonna break my fingers in two,â and his other hand spanks your clit, ânow cum,âÂ
And you do, muscles clenching as you do, a cry of his name on your lips that does nothing but stroke his ego, your orgasm soaking his hand. Eyes fluttering open to find him licking your release from his fingers, as his other hand undoes his pants and tugs down his boxers, his cock already dragging against your still twitching cunt.Â
âFuck,â you mumble, under your breath, and he only smiles.Â
âNow youâre getting it, baby.âÂ
And your alarm jolts you awake, you stare at your ceiling, watching the ceiling fan spin, while you glance at your side to find nothing but your comforter beside you. Not to mention, as you shifted, feeling the telltale stickiness of your arousal and the dull throbbing of your cunt, the aftermath of your dream â your very wet dream.Â
âFuck,â you say, this time out loud and to no one but yourself. This was going to be a problem, if you let this go on. And you couldnât. Not after the last time â you swing your feet over the edge of the bed and stand, glancing back at the stain of your pre that you flipped your comforter over â and not after that.Â
âHave you been avoiding me?âÂ
Yes, you have done a good job. Until now.Â
You gritted your teeth, as you stood in the doorway of the room. But how could you have avoided him in the guest room of the house he lived in?Â
And as he loomed in the doorway of the kitchen, dwelling in the shadow of his form, you were kicking the ass of past you, the one that had convinced you it was okay to stay over because Sukuna had been out.Â
âHadâ being the operative word.Â
It had been a few days since you had found yourself at the Itadoris. And more than a few days since you had found yourself dreaming of Sukuna â waking up with his name on your tongue and your panties uncomfortably drenched. You had gone through more underwear this week than you had in a month. And it didnât help that you felt the need to get off once you did wake, the ache between your thighs was too much to bear before sleep.Â
And now here was the subject of your dirty dreams darkening your doorway, as if your dreams were some naughty prophecy waiting to unfold (though you were sure he could fold you).Â
âWhat are you talking about?âÂ
And you knew exactly what he was talking about. You had made sure Sukuna wasnât around when you came over (the absence of his motorcycle is a telltale sign), and always left before he returned. But tonight you made the mistake of drinking with Choso, the two of you finishing two bottles of sake before being completely fucked.Â
Your head was spinning â you could barely have made it to the bathroom, much less your home. Choso had corralled you into taking his bed, before going and collapsing on his couch. It had been only a few hours into the night before you got up in a haze of confusion with your mouth drier than the Sahara. You pulled yourself up, slipped on thin sleep shorts that you had thrown off at some point due to the summer humidity, before finding your way to the door.Â
You made your way to the kitchen, the squeak of the fridge as you pulled it open to grab a water bottle. And thatâs when he spoke.Â
âAnd here you are,â and the water bottle nearly slipped from your grasp, âno need to jump, brat, Iâm not a monster or a shadow,â
No, but heâs so much worse, heâs real.Â
âI was just getting something to drink,â you murmur, and he tilts his head, as he takes a step closer.Â
âJust water?â Thatâs not the kind of drink you still owe me,â and why was his presence so intoxicating? Several drinks in and you could still hold your own, still speak in complete sentences, and even make your way home on foot. But Sukuna comes near, and suddenly you can barely form a fucking syllable, your limbs feel far too heavy, and your body is nearly burning, as if he had turned your blood to wine without any miracle needed.Â
No, it was more of a curse.Â
âI donât remember owing you anything,â and heâs tilting his head, amusement flickering across his lips, a step closer and then another, until youâre utterly engulfed in his presence. You can smell the mix of exhaust and sweat off of him from his motorcycle ride, the way his jaw tenses as if he is holding himself back from taking a bite, and the way his gaze pierces into you as if he has you pinned like a butterfly under glass.Â
âDo I need to give you a reason?â And when his fingers ghosted over your swell of your cheek, a featherlight brush from rough, calloused skin that makes a shiver roll down your body, âdidnât think I had to with the way you were nearly melting into my touch when I saw you last, girl,âÂ
âI wasnât the one begging for me to be there,â and he clicks his tongue derisively, and you wonder what else he can do with it, before his fingers grip your chin roughly, forcing your gaze to his.Â
âTch, so pleased with yourself just for resisting, are you, sweetheart?â he tilts his head, while his other hand slithers down your side until he finds your waist and tugs you close, lips hanging close, a forbidden fruit begging you to take a bite, âimagine how good youâd feel if you gave in,â and you almost do, melting into his touch, as if you were made to fit in his arms, leaning up so you could feel the warm breath of his welcomeâ
SLAM!Â
Youâre sent stumbling back again, clearing your throat, as the sounds of footsteps grow close, and Yuji wanders into the kitchen, mouth pulled open by his yawn, as he blinks as he spots the two of you.Â
âHey, I thought you were asleep upstairs,â he walks past the two of you to grab a water bottle from the refrigerator, and sparing a short glance at Sukuna, âand I thought you had plans,âÂ
âPlans can change, brat,â Sukuna sighs, his eyes still trained on you â a homing missile with a target, and Yuji was an obstacle in the way, âshouldnât you go back to bed?âÂ
âI could ask you two the same,â he leaned against the kitchen counter for a moment, while you only shook your head.Â
âIâm going to go to bed,â your only exit opportunity and youâd take it â there had been enough mistakes made, and you didnât need another to add to the list, and youâre slipping back into your room without another word.Â
You donât see the way Sukuna glares at his nephew, cursing the day of his existence with only his eyes, only gaining a confused stare in return, âWhat? Ow!â
And youâre only left questioning why Yuji is holding a bag of ice to his head the next morning.Â
But you knew you couldnât avoid Sukuna forever â and you couldnât avoid how you felt either.
Especially when he gave you exactly what you wanted â space. You had barely seen him for the next week, the former criminal making himself scarce, apparently telling his brother that he had grown tired of ârooming with a bunch of brats,â and had found himself another place to stay for a while.Â
Jin had sighed when you had asked over breakfast a day or so after he left, âI donât know how long heâll be gone, but weâll see. The only requirement of his release was to stay in the prefectureââÂ
âAnd thatâs already far too close,â Yuji muttered under his breath, earning a sharp look from his dad, âso we donât even know if heâll be back huh?âÂ
Jin shrugs, as he sips his coffee, âI donât know â your uncle isnât one to stay in one place â unless thereâs something that he wants,âÂ
âIâll take any amount of time that heâs not here,â Choso shakes his head, offering you a small smile, âand this way you can stay over in the guest room now,âÂ
âYeah, true,â you offered a weak smile, as you continued to pick at your food. This was good news, things were going back to normal, but even so, as you pushed your food on your plate â why did your chest ache so much?Â
âYuck, do peopleâs heads really explode like that?â Yuji sat with the two of you in the living room, TV playing the movie Yuji had chosen, shoveling popcorn by the fistful.Â
âHow would we know that?â you snort, stealing popcorn from his bowl, âwhy did you even choose this movie anyway?âÂ
âHe heard there was a Megan Thee Stallion cameo in it,â and Yujiâs cheeks flushed, visible even in the dim illumination of the TV, as he got to his feet.Â
âIâm gonna get a drink, do you two want anything?â And you both shake your heads, as you stifle your chuckle.Â
âYou wanna stay over tonight?â Choso asks, and you tilt your head, toying with a popcorn kernel between your fingers.Â
You shrug, âweâll see,â your eyes drift back to the movie, but you feel the creak of the bed as he shifts.Â
âYou donât have been avoiding staying over, even though itâs just us,â Fuck, your eyes still found themselves on the screen instead of him, anywhere but him, and you can hear the unspoken words â even though Sukuna is not here, âare you sure weâre good?âÂ
And you couldnât tell him that it wasnât him that was bothering you. It wasnât him keeping you up at night, it wasnât him who had been tempting you the last few weeks, and it wasnât him that you wanted to see â no matter how much you didnât want to admit it, even to yourself.Â
So you donât. Â
You smile as best you can, âEverythingâs fine, Choso,â and he frowns, still unsure, and you know thereâs only one thing that will assure him, if only a little, âIâll stay over,âÂ
And so you end up in the guest room â far too late. Even though Sukuna no longer lingered here, his scent still did, even with the sheet change and the small amount of his things gone, he was still very much here.Â
And it did little for your sleep. Or maybe too much.Â
Again, you dreamt of him, his large palms dragging down your sides, lips pulled in a smirk that he pressed to the hollow of your throat before itâs consumed by a flash of canines that pinch and tease the softness of your flesh.Â
âSâfucking wet,â he huffs a chuckle out, âsuch a little slut, been wanting this for far too long havenât you?â And heâs undoing your robe with ease, a single tug has your body revealed to him, âhavenât even laid a finger on you and look at the mess youâve made,â he clicks his tongue, and a whine parts your lips, âalready whining like a bitch?âÂ
He shoves two fingers inside you, a gasp ripped from your throat, thick digits stretching your walls, clenching around the intrusion, âSukunaâplease,âÂ
âSilly girl,â he murmurs in your ear, âIâm not even the one touching you now,â and fantasy melts into reality as his hand cups your chin, eyes fluttering open, âbut I know I can make you cum faster than any dream,âÂ
Wait. What?Â
And suddenly the touch down your body feels all too real, pain ribboning from the fingers squeezing your hips hard, and a gasp as your body trembles, still caught between sleep and reality. Your body canât move, but itâs not the weight of your own limbs keeping you still.Â
Your eyes shoot open completely, sleep shed completely from your mind.Â
And you found Sukuna, his lips curled in a smile that was far too familiar from other sleepless nights. But was it? Or was it another dream that he had invaded, far too real as you slept in his bed, rather than your own.Â
Your hand reaches out for him shakily, fingers tracing the hard line of his jaw, âIs this real?â you mutter, more to yourself, but he takes it upon himself to answer, his hand darting out to curl around your wrist, squeezing, while the other holds himself up, mattress creaking a divot where his hand pressed in, body heat all too close.Â
âWant me to pinch you? Canât say itâll be the cheek youâre thinking of,â he chuckles, unable to meet his gaze, âdonât go acting like a shy virgin now, woman. Youâre the one having wet dreams about me,âÂ
âNo, I-I, it wasnâtââ but your brain is short circuiting and his laugh that rumbles against you tells you heâs enjoying this far too much, âwhat are you doing here? I thought you left,â the statement comes out far too biting, and he raises an eyebrow.Â
âI did, but it was just for a week. I had some business to deal with,â and a grin pulls at his lips, âwhy? Did you miss me, brat? Is that why youâre dreaming of me?âÂ
Youâre squirming underneath him trying to look anywhere but him, âIâm not, it wasnâtââ and he only hums, dragging a hand down your front, until heâs reaching your shorts, a brief pause to see if youâd pull away, but you donât, and fingers pressing against your soaked shorts.Â
âThat why youâre soaked through your fucking shorts?â And the rough pads of his fingers grind against your eager hole, nearly swallowing you in, only the thin fabric of your shorts keeping his fingers from fucking you then and there, âleast your bodyâs honest â so eager to get fucked,â and heâs teasing your drenched entrance, drawing his fingers back to have your pre like spiderwebs between the two digits.Â
âSukuna, pleaseââ and his lips curl.Â
âTell me to stop, and Iâll go,â a small whine left your throat, the throbbing between your thighs growing with the way his gaze undid you â unscrewed you by your hinges and watched you fall apart, only to ask you to put yourself back together.Â
But you couldnât. Not without him.Â
âSukunaââÂ
âI didnât ask you to whine, are you going to answer my questionâ-âÂ
âFuck me,â the words fall from your lips as if possessed, and you canât find it in you to regret them.Â
And he smiles all the same.Â
âAbout fucking time,â and his fingers meanly rub against your clit through the paper thin fabric of your shorts, âdidnât even fucking put on panties and you expect me to think you didnât want me fuck you open,â and embarrassment burns at your cheeks, âdid you get this wet from dreaming about me?â And no words come to your mind, and he gives you a sharp spank to your clothed slit, drawing a sharp gasp to your lips and slick flooding from your folds, âbetter use your words, woman,âÂ
âFuck, please, I needââ and his fingers practically rip your shorts off, letting your cunt gush onto the sheets.Â
âNeed me to fuck you that bad? Gânna beg this criminal to fuck you open?â And heâs toying with your folds, tugging your tight hole apart as his eyes rake over your pussy, exposed for him, âafter all of your teasing, what makes you think you even deserve to be fucked? Maybe I should leave you like this, fingers buried in your cunt, wishing they were your neighborâs uncleâs,â and a sadistic smile graces his features as it only can his, âfuck yourself for me,âÂ
You whimper, as his fingers leave your hole, clenching around nothing as if begging for his touch, âwhat? ButââÂ
âFuck yourself until you cum, wanna see what youâve been doing when youâre fucking me in your sleep,â the absence of his touch leaves you keening and needy, for something, anything to get you off. Want overcomes inhibition, and your shaky fingers find their way to your cunt, fingertips tracing the outer lips, a gasp you barely recognize as your own when you rub against your clit, âcâmon girl, gotta open yourself up for me â think Iâll fit if you just rub yourself like that?â And heâs pressing his clothed erection against your thigh â and heâs fucking big â rock hard cock rubbing against you through damp damp sweatpants.Â
And his fingers grabs your own, guiding them to your slick hole, letting them slip past your fluttering walls, while his own teased your outsides, âGood girl,â and the praise makes your walls clench, and heâs chuckling, âwant to be a fucking good girl, then fuck yourself until I see you cum for me,âÂ
You swallow your whines, beginning to move your fingers in and out, your insides clinging to you, as if begging for something longer, thicker, better â and you knew his fingers would be. A moan falls from your lips, and he clicks his tongue.Â
âGotta be rougher than that,â and his fingers curl around the base of your own, using your fingers as a glorified fuck toy. Your head lolled back, as he controlled the pace of your fingers, fucking you hard and fast, reaching places you didnât think were possible with your fingers, âthatâs it, youâre close arenât you? Like being fucked with your own fingers, donât you, you slut?â And youâre shuddering, soft cries and moans filling the silence of the night with the loud squelch of your cunt.Â
âSukuna, f-fuck, ngh, I canâtââ and he only begins to rub on your clit with his thumb.Â
âYes you can,â he gruffly chuckles, murmuring in your ear as he leans forward, âcum on your fingers like you have every night for me,â and he forces your gaze to meet his as your fingers brush that one spot that has your back arching, âsay my name,âÂ
And you do, cumming hard around your fingers, as he uses them to fuck you through your orgasm, the wet noises of your folds growing louder as your thighs shake. Your eyes meet his, glassy with tears from your high, and Sukuna leans down to lick the salty tear from your cheek.Â
He pulls your fingers from inside you, your sticky cum coating your digits and even dripping onto his own. He smirks as he eyes them, before sliding them into his mouth. A moan pulled from your lips as he sucks your essence clean from them, tongue dragging up the length of your fingers.Â
âShit, that was a nice moan,â and his eyes fall back to your drenched cunt, âStill so fucking tight,â he clicks his tongue, Fuck, girl, did the boys your age not fuck you properly? Gânna have to fix that,â as he thumbs meanly at your swollen clit, âIâll have you screaming my name soon enough.âÂ
he hums, taking in your ruined state â tear stained cheeks, your dripping cunt, and your red ruined lips from biting them, âso fucking pretty like this,â and you hear him shift, the distinct sound of his phone camera, making your eyes snap open.Â
âNo, fuck, no donâtââ and heâs turning the screen around to show you how absolutely fucked you look, âpleaseââÂ
âItâs a little too late for that, canât have anyone buying your little virgin act anymore huh?â heâs grinning as he leans forward, pinning your thighs in place as you try to squirm away, âdonât move,âÂ
His order makes your muscles tense, unable to move your body under the heavy grasp of his hands splayed against your hips. The pads of his fingers dig into your soft flesh, as his lips dare closer to your weeping slit.Â
âFuck, are you a virgin though? Youâre still so fucking tight even after that little show you put on for me,â and he doesnât give you a chance to reply, his breath warming your twitching cunt, âeither way, you wonât be one soon,â and heâs burying his mouth in your pussy.Â
You moan, covering your mouth before he sucks on your clit, tongue teasing your hole open, a wave of heat flooding your body. The sounds of his licking and slurping fill your ears â and you wonder how the whole house isnât awake yet.Â
You canât stop your hips from nearly fucking his face, but he spanks your thigh, hard, as he pulls his mouth from your dripping slit, âI told you not to move,â and he spanks your clit for good measure, making you yelp against your fingers, âtell me when youâre about to cum,â and you whimper, âor I can open this door and let the house hear us,âÂ
You nod, but he doesnât miss the way your slit twitches at the thought, and his mouth curls in a nasty smirk, âsuch a fucking slut, maybe I will,â and heâs plunging two thick fingers into your greedy cunt, a gasp ripped from your throat at the intrusion, walls fluttering as they attempt to accommodate his digits. But itâs all squeezing and barely any stretch, as his fingers work you open.Â
And it doesnât take long to get you worked up, his digits knuckle deep and dripping wet, âgonna fucking break my fingers in two with your virgin hole, girl,â he grunts, your body burning with his touch alone, nails dragging against your walls, curling so they can bully that sweet spot just right, âyouâre gonna cum arenât you?â the telltale squeeze of your cunt tells him so, and youâre nodding, and his fingers slip from inside.Â
Youâre whining, tears burning at the corners of your eyes, âPlease, fuck, wanna cum,â the pleasure that had built was throbbing, a dam close to bursting but denied its relief, so it remained, begging and waiting â âplease, SukunaââÂ
âSo you do know how to beg like a good little whore, gonna fuck you again, but you canât cum until I tell you,â and heâs sinking three fingers into you now, eyes rolling back as your back arches, but heâs fucking you meanly, curling and twisting his fingers, until the pleasure is a tight knot in your belly, barely hanging on from snapping, âwait,â he grunts, and itâs as if your warmth is made for him â or now it was, because heâs made it his, âwait,â and youâre sure heâs reached your cervix somehow, fingertips reaching places youâve only dreamed of (literally), and then he leans down lips around your clit as he orders you, ânow, cum,âÂ
And you do, hard, as he sucks around your clit while fucking you through your orgasm, cum flooding his fingers and face alike, drenching him, even as he slurped and sucked up every bit.Â
He finally pulls away, a shiver slips down your spine as he slips his fingers from inside you, pink tongue flicking against his lips, still slick with your cum, What a fucking mess youâve made,â he sneers, but heâs licking his lips clean all the same, âshould make you clean up the mess you made, shouldnât I?â And heâs pressing the pads of his fingers to your lips, youâre too fucked out to fight, lips parting with ease, âsuck,â and you do, opening wide to let his fingers inside, lips and tongue curled around the same fingers that had explored your cunt.Â
He watched as you obediently sucked every drop of your juices off, a trickle of drool slipping down the corner of your lips makes his already hard cock twitch in his pants, and heâs pulling his fingers from your mouth.Â
âBetter than your dreams, huh, sweetheart?â he drags his thumb down your bottom lip, he canât fucking wait a minute longer, âturn around, gonna fuck this slutty princess cunt from behind,â but you only can watch as he tugs down his sweatpants and boxers alike, his cock slapping against his stomach.Â
Fuck, heâs even bigger than you had imagined. Mushroom tip red and hard, as pretty veins run up the sides, and he was looking as if heâd not only split you open, but break you all together.Â
Your thighs quaked at the thought, more slick slipping from your needy cunt â and you wanted him to. Â
Your knees shake, as you turn slowly, much too slowly his pace, and he grunts, his hands gripping your hips, as he flips you onto your stomach, a yelp leaving your lips as you bounce on the mattress. âhave to fuckinâ do everything myself for this whoreâs pussy,â
Youâre gripping the sheets, nails surely tearing holes in the thin fabric of the sheets, as his calloused palm comes down on your ass, hard, the smack echoing in the silence of the night, a mewl you donât recognize as your own, âSukuna, please, I canâtââÂ
âYou can, youâll take whatever I give you, brat,â and another smack finds your ass again, as he pinches the flesh for good measure, drawing another moan from your lips and another chuckle from his, âand youâll take this cock too,â and he doesnât spare you a moment as he presses his swollen, dripping cockhead to your drenched hole, smearing his pre all over your ass â as if to erase any doubt you were his, because there wasnât â before finally sliding in.Â
God, fuck.Â
Your arms were already shaking, barely able to hold yourself up, but your face nearly plants into the mattress as he sinks into you â he was too fucking big. Even all the prep he had given you was nothing, nothing compared to how much his dick was stretching your cunt.Â
He hummed, as your insides swallowed him eagerly, even with the slight resistance of your tight little pussy, watching as your walls parted for him with almost practiced ease, sucking him deeper and deeper, as if you were made for him. And you would be, after he fucked your cunt to his shape again and again â because this was far from the last time he would take you.Â
It was only the first.Â
âFuck, youâre so fucking tight â am I the first to fuck this pussy?â he grunts, grasping your hips tightly, your warm, wet pussy wrapped around his dick â he had waited far too long for this, too many nights spent grasping at his cock, thinking how much better it would be buried in your pussy.Â
âH-hngh, Sukuna, sâbig,â youâre nearly babbling as he works himself into you, inch by inch, not even halfway in, and you were gonna cum just from him putting his dick in, âcanât fitââ and heâs scoffing, watching you squirm against his length, but he only continues to fuck his way into your tight hole, another sharp slap to your ass as a warning.Â
âIâll make it fit, girl,â he growls â like fuck he was stopping now thatâs gotten this far, there was only one way this was ending â and it was with his cock fucking you full of his cum, âcâmon, did the dream not compare to the reality? Did you think I had a tiny dick?â and he thrusts shallowly against you, sending another inch inside your already stuffed folds, drawing a needy whine from your throat, âso fucking loud, you gonna let the whole house know what weâre doing at this rate,âÂ
he murmurs, bending down to your ear, and your walls squeeze around him, a vice grip that has him nearly cumming then and there, but no he wonât, not yet, âfuck, did you think about letting Choso know? Maybe Iâd let him watch me fuck you, only way heâll ever see you like this,â and you whimper as he slams into you, finally bottoming out as his tip bullies your womb, making you cry out against your fingers, âto think the pretty girl next door is on her hands and knees like a slut for me now, getting split open by my dick. What would Choso think?â
Youâre whining, âPlease, fuck, slow downââ but he only pulls out a little to piston back in, balls slapping against your ass as he does, setting a mean pace, as he chuckles in your ear.Â
âYouâre saying that, but we both know thatâs not what you want â slutty fucking pussy trying break my cock in two,â the sounds of your skin slapping against you as his tip brushes against your cervix rings in your ear, even as he murmurs in it, âyââknow he wants to fuck you right? The little brat is always watching you, nearly fisting himself at the sight of you,â heâs forcing you upwards, pressing your back to his chest, âhe wants you, but heâll never have you, because this pussy is mine,â and his hand finds the bulge in your stomach, pressing down, as you keen, head falling back against his shoulder, as tears pooled in your pretty eyes, âbut heâd never be able to reach here and fuck you like you want â like a whore,â his other hand pinches and teases your pebbled nipples, before sliding up to your neck, squeezing lightly, âsay youâre mine,âÂ
You canât find the words, all of them fucked out of your body to make room for his cock seemingly â the only words remaining his name and âplease,â but you have to do better than that, and he slows his pace to nothing, as he pulls out so only his tip teases your entrance, a whine leaving your pathetic mouth.
âIf youâre not mine, guess I donât need to let you finish, do I?â and youâre shaking your head, frantic and repentant.Â
âIâm yours, iâm yours, Sukuna, pleaseââ and heâs sliding right back into you, fucking you harder, balls slapping against your ass and sweet cunt swallowing him up to the base, a white ring of your pre cum forming around it â and he just knows youâre close, by the twitch of your sweet pussy â and his hand reaches around to rub at your clit, âIâmââÂ
And he ruts into you, hard and deep that youâre sure his length brushes against your womb â and youâre cumming, falling apart around him, but he doesnât relent â but had he ever? He didnât relent over these past few weeks, and he wouldnât now, not until he was filling you up and watching his cum drip out of your holeâ
Youâre slipping back forward, face forward into the pillow and mattress, as he grunts watching your slick drip down your ass and thighs and onto the sheets â his balls tense with his release, âFuckââ and thatâs all the warning you get before he slams back into you to bottom out, as he blows his load.Â
His release is hot as it fills you up, never ending it seems as he slowly fucks you through his orgasm, his spurts slowing with time, until heâs finally stilling, a soft grunt, as he pulls himself from inside your warm cunt. A soft groan at the sight of his seed spilling from inside you â youâre boneless and spent, until he has you jolting forward from the press of his fingers gathering his cum and stuffing it back in.Â
âKuna, fuck, I canâtââ and he scoffs, retracting his fingers for a moment, before heâs deftly flipping you onto your back, âtoo sensitive,â you whine as his fingers work their way back into you.Â
âDid you think I was done, woman?â and his softening erection is already standing tall again, and youâre almost wanting his fingers now at this point, even as your body disagrees, pussy squeezing at the thought of him buried inside you again. He leans forward, lips brushing against yours, a kiss full of nothing of tongue and teeth, the faint taste of your own release on his lips, âweâre far from done.âÂ
The sound of your name catches your attention, your eyes snapping up from your breakfast, âwhat?âÂ
âAre you okay? Choso frowns at you, as he holds his rice bowl, the rolled tamago sliced on his plate, âyou look tired,â It was another morning like always, butÂ
You shake your head, âI just didnât sleep well, I kept waking up from my dreams,â and it wasnât exactly a lie â yesterday was the culmination of a million dreams you had. Dreams that only ended when the sun began to come up, with his cock still buried in your cunt as you rode him, back pressed to his chest, as he worked you up and down his dick.Â
And finally when he came again, this time all over your back, he finally pressed kisses up and down his back, easing himself out, as his toned arms engulfed you.Â
âShould clean up and I should head to Jinâs room,â he murmurs, âI have a feeling I wonât have a place to live if he finds me in here,â and you chuckle, too fucked out and tired, âweâll have to get used to sneaking around.Â
âOh will we?â you had mumbled, and he answered your question with another bruising kiss to your lips.Â
Yuji tilts his head, scratching it, as you lift your glass to take a sip of water, mouth far too dry now, âIs that what those noises were? It sounded like you were having nightmares,â and you nearly choke on it, but force it down, hoping the embarrassment wasnât evident on your face, stabbing your egg.Â
âYeah, I had a couple last night,â you lied, and even as you suddenly found your breakfast far too interesting, you could feel Chosoâs gaze still on you â your cheeks burning as Sukunaâs words about him still rung in your ears â along with the distinct ache between your legs and on your ass he left behind, âIâm fine, Iâm just going to need a nap,âÂ
âYouâre not the only one, girl,â Sukuna walks into the kitchen from the rooms, as Yuji and Choso balk at his presence.Â
Chosoâs eyes narrow, âWhat are you doing here?âÂ
âWouldnât you like to know,â Sukunaâs eyes find yours, the corner of his lip pulled upwards, as his gaze rakes over your form, âwhatâs for breakfast?â and you knew he only wished that you were the thing placed on the table for him to eat. Jin barely pays any mind, too preoccupied on his phone with his work email, as he passes a plate to Sukuna.Â
âWhen did you even get in?â Yuji asks, as he finishes his own breakfast, leaning back on his two palms. And your insides begin to tie themselves in knots at all of these questions â knowing Sukuna would like nothing more than to tell them exactly what he was doing last night.Â
âAnd where did you sleep?â Choso glares, adding fuel to the fire, as Sukuna looks down on him, lips a thin line, âyou didnât bother our guest, did you?â and your cheeks burn all the same, a flicker of amusement on Sukunaâs features, lips parting only for Jin to cut in.
âHe got in early this morning. He slept in my room,â Jin says with a sigh, âDonât you two have to get ready? Youâre going to your momâs this morning,âÂ
âSheâs not my mom,â Choso grumbles under his breath, âmore like a leech,â but he still gets to his feet all the same, as Yuji follows suit, picking up their plates, a comforting hand on his older brotherâs shoulder.Â
âI should get to work,â Jin sighs, sparing a sharp glance at his brother, âbehave,â and he turns to you, âfeel free to stay as long as you want. Yuji and Choso will be back this afternoon,âÂ
And the three of them find their way out of the house, a rush of bags and feet, as Choso spares a glance at you.Â
âIâll be back soon â you can hang out in my room if you want,â Choso says, before scowling at Sukuna, âlet me know if you need anything,â and you nod, waving him off, and the door shuts behind them all.Â
Sukuna slides into place beside you, sitting as the two of you eat breakfast in relative silence. You finish up your meal, and move to get up, but Sukunaâs hand finds its way onto your thigh, holding you in place.Â
âAre you done?â and you glance at him, plate empty and food untouched, âwith eating?âÂ
âI am,â you raise an eyebrow, âAnd you?âÂ
âMy appetite wants something else, sweetheart,â he leans forward, fingers inching higher until his thumb grazes your inner thigh.Â
âAnd whatâs that?â and he nearly growls his next words, thin patience already tearing in two, just as he would your clothes if you werenât careful.Â
âIâm done playing coy, woman,â heâs lifting you with ease, slinging you over his shoulder as you gasp, and heâs gotten you on top of the counter, the very same counter you had baked cookies on the day he had arrived, but now his hulking body was quickly pressing your legs apart, âthereâs only one thing I want to eat in this kitchen, and itâs between your fucking thighs.âÂ
âNot sick of it yet?â you chuckle.Â
âThink I could bury myself in your slutty pussy for days and not get sick of it,â and he looms over you, just as he had that first day, and he leans down to kiss you, stealing the logic from your mind and leaving only the need for his touch behind, âit is the sweetest thing I ever tasted after all.âÂ
âReally?â and he smirks, as his fingers dig into the fabric of your shorts ripping them and your panties down, the cool air against your already wet cunt.Â
âWant me to prove it?âÂ
And oh, he would. Again and again.Â
⧠a/n: i have a problem. i really wanted to write something with degradation ok?
⧠taglist: , @k0z3me , @monstrousbuu , @abiiebibie , @strawmariee , @luciiferslover , @sxnkuna , @psychxbby , @addehehe , @cpu1d , @dreamtardisspace , @authorintheshadows666 , @arcielee , @trxnmagic , @smilk01 , @abcdbleh , @elisaj313-blog , @jinslunv , @n3ptunxe , @pinkyvomit , @being-me-is-not-a-sin , @rat-loves , @spider-fan72 ,, @niks1673 , @lafffyyytafffyyy , @miseraa , @astraxa-xx , @fushitoru , @hanxyy , @milky-milkyway , @nakariabnrb , @johannakhalafalla , @tojicvmbucket , @flyingtranscatofeffed , @vampzys , @caelestine-the-caelicatto , @hatsunemitskislobotomy , @k1ttybean , @catsgomurp , @goddess-ofthe-godless , @i-spilt-ink-on-my-phone , @forest-fruits-jam , @mua-for-now , @pricetagofficial
#sab [mlist]#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna smut#sukuna fanfiction#ryomen sukuna smut#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x you#ryomen smut#ryomen sukuna x you
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burn girlies for the win
#put my hand right on a hot plate when i was a kid#apparently i looked right at my mum as it happened#and it took a good few seconds for me to realise the pain#ive stepped on a nail#that was fun#climbed the pantry levels trying to get a bandaid#left a convenient blood trail for my poor father to follow#he got his revenge tho dont worry#he bought me panadol for a headache i had in year 5#looked at me and jokingly said we're gonna have to cut their head open#ya know cause head hurty#haha very funny dad#so anyways i took a step back in like mock fear#playing into the bit ya know#and then my leg just buckled#and i smashed open my chin#had some nice stitches done#im pretty sure i dislocated my thumb once#the swelling was insane#mum didn't believe me about that one#its never quite been the same since#but it is now super bendy so thats cool#when i was 6ish i also caught bronchitis pneumonia#maybe ive had more injuries than i first thought
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The Lara-Su Chronicles: Beginnings review
The day has finally come. Many, understandably, thought we'd never get here. Maybe we shouldn't have gotten here. We've been through so much. Lawsuits, reboots, redesigns, unreleased NFTs, empty legal threats over the fact that movie Knuckles has a dad, an attempt to license out Scourge the Hedgehog to fans that immediately got canceled (in both meanings of the term), and many, MANY idiotic Twitter controversies. But now, here we are.
Thirteen years after first announcing it in the middle of his legal battles with Archie and Sega that changed the American Sonic comics forever, former writer Ken Penders has released the first part of his new series: The Lara-Su Chronicles.
Yes. I had to buy the book. I had to take one for the team. Look at the fucking URL of this blog, a blog I've been using to talk about the American Sonic comics for nearly a decade while the specter of this book loomed in the distance. The one time I've actually been paid to write an article about anything in any professional capacity, it was an article about the Penders lawsuits. I'm cited on his Wikipedia page. There was no way I was going to skip reviewing this, and there was no guarantee that scans would ever turn up online given the incredibly small audience for this trash. (Only 166 people preordered this, and even that number feels way higher than it should be.) No, I had to preorder it to ensure I could get a copy and cover it for the blog... even if that meant my name would be forever immortalized in the list of "supporters" in the back of the book. These are the sacrifices I must make as a woman who stumbled ass backwards into being an amateur Archie Sonic historian.
So, what exactly is in this book? How much of it is new? How bad is it? How did we even get here in the first place? How can this exist without Sega pursuing legal action? What happens next? And, most importantly... why are there multiple depictions of an Archie Sonic character breastfeeding in this book?
I'm here to answer those questions as best I can, and in agonizing detail.
First, for those just tuning in to this decades-long saga or those who maybe don't know the full story, here's a refresher on the background info.
"What the hell is this?"
The Lara-Su Chronicles is Ken Penders' long-dreaded long-awaited continuation of his 1994-2006 run on Archie Sonic, ignoring everything written after he left by other writers like Ian Flynn. In particular, it picks up from the cliffhanger ending of the 2003-2004 arc "Mobius: 25 Years Later," which was set in what Ken considers the definitive canonical future of the series. It stars Knuckles' daughter from that future era, Lara-Su, among other new and returning characters. The project was first announced near the start of Ken's legal battle with Archie in 2011, and he's been posting WIP previews online for about a decade. Now, after all this time, a Lara-Su Chronicles book finally exists.
We'll get to the actual contents of that book in a bit.
"He can do that without getting in trouble with Sega?"
Believe it or not, yes, he can.
Thanks to the outcome of Archie Comics' woefully mismanaged lawsuits against Ken (yes, they sued him after he started filing for copyrights, not the other way around), he now has full legal ownership of every story he wrote for Archie Sonic and every character he created for the series. This was explicitly granted to him in the terms of the settlement between him and Archie (acting on behalf of Sega). He can even reprint his old Sonic material as-is to his heart's content. The main catch is just that he can't write new stories featuring Sega characters or trademarks, and his new stories also have to be distinct from Sonic at a glance to avoid confusing readers. As such, reprints can't use Sonic iconography on the cover, a few Sega characters (mainly Knuckles) have been renamed and slightly redesigned in the new stories, and the art style has been changed to less closely resemble Sonic. But otherwise, he can do whatever he wants with his own characters.
All of this is because Archie lost the original copy of Ken's work-for-hire contract that signed over the rights to his work. Without that (or any alternative that was considered permissible in court), his comics and characters are the property of their creator by default. Yes, those old comics are full of Sega stuff, but Sega doesn't automatically own the copyright for every drawing of Sonic in existence. And Sega put their stamp of approval all over those comics and let them get sold at retail for decades, even though (in the eyes of the court) there was no legal paperwork granting them ownership of any of it. It's almost like they were unwittingly distributing a fan comic for years and declaring it a fair use of their property, and now there's no takesies backsies. It's a strange and unique copyright situation. Again, they worked all this out in the settlement. And, yes, fans have long speculated that Ken stole and destroyed his own contract to regain the rights to his work, but frankly Archie was so incompetent throughout the lawsuit (it went so bad that they had to fire and replace their lawyers midway through) that I completely buy the idea of them just losing important legal documents.
Also, in case it needs to be spelled out: while Ken's a weirdo, it's ultimately a good thing for creatives everywhere that Archie lost their lawsuit against Ken. We do not want to live in a world where corporations can claim ownership of peoples' work without the contracts to back it up. That would be an incredibly dangerous legal precedent to set. And more comic creators, and artists in general, should own their own work! Corporations are not your friend! They'll delete your work for a tax write-off in a heartbeat! It's just bewildering that this guy, of all people, was the creator who ended up successfully getting his shit back, and that this is what he's doing with it.
"What about his old collaborators? Are they involved? Is he paying them?"
Ken is mostly doing The Lara-Su Chronicles solo, though he has, in fact, talked about compensating the artists involved in any material he's reprinting. The ones who give enough of a shit to get paid for a small scale reprint of something they did 20 years ago, anyway.
On the subject of his collaborators, it's also worth pointing out that Ken's wasn't the only contract that was lost. Most of the early Archie Sonic writers from before Ian Flynn's time seem to be in the same boat as Ken, with the ownership of their stories and characters defaulting back to them. Again, Archie fucked up big time. But like I said, most of them don't really seem to give a shit. For most of them, Sonic was just a random temporary gig they took to pay the bills while Marvel was busy going bankrupt in the '90s, not the thing that defined their entire careers.
The only other Archie Sonic contributor who's tried to do anything on the level of what Ken is doing was writer and editor Scott Fulop. In 2016 he attempted to sue Archie for the unauthorized use of what are now retroactively considered his copyrighted characters and stories, and he even announced a standalone comic about his most famous Sonic character, the recurring villain Mammoth Mogul (sort of a pastiche of DC's Vandal Savage and Marvel's Kingpin, with wizard powers added for spice). However, Fulop lost his lawsuit because he didn't put together a particularly compelling case. Since then he seems to have wiped all traces of his ill-advised Mammoth Mogul comic and his company, Narrative Ark Entertainment, from the internet. For now, this leaves The Lara-Su Chronicles the only project of its kind.
"What about those other Archie Sonic reprints he just announced?"
At the time of writing, Ken is once again claiming that he's trying to get the band back together to reprint all of Archie Sonic, now under the bad new banner "Floating Island Productions: MOBIAN LINE" that I can't imagine he consulted literally anyone else on.
So, like, look. As we've established, Ken can reprint his own stories. And if he can work something out with the other contributors whose contracts were lost, he can print their work, too. But there is no fucking way he's getting his hands on Ian Flynn's run, which Sega undoubtedly holds the copyright for. Even if they don't, Ian needs to maintain a good working relationship with both Sega and IDW if he's to keep his job, so he'd never go for this. Not to mention that Ian and Ken just... don't get along! Ken's whole plan here seems to be predicated on IDW going out of business (a thing he REALLY wants to happen) and freeing up the Sonic comic license, after which he knocks on Sega's door and goes "hey I've still got dirt on you guys," blackmailing them into giving him the Sonic license back so that he can reprint the later comics. Every step of this plan is ludicrous. It's never gonna happen.
He's been saying he wants to reprint the whole series for a few years now, though. This isn't really anything new. And despite his lofty plans that set Sonic Twitter ablaze, he quickly backpedaled. The only specific things in the works right now are a "two-volume omnibus" of all of his Knuckles stories and a collection of artist Scott Shaw's work on the very early Archie Sonic issues, since they're on good terms with each other. I have no idea how Ken plans on packaging these when he can't put any Sega characters or the Freedom Fighters on the covers, but these projects are small enough in scale that there's a decent chance they'll see the light of day. Scott Shaw only did like five issues. But anything beyond that? I'll believe it when I see it.
Or, y'know, this could've all just been a publicity stunt for his new book. I wouldn't put it past him. Let's just focus on the book that actually exists.
"So he finally did it? He made a whole Lara-Su book? It's out? He finished it??"
Yes and no.
The book that's out now is The Lara-Su Chronicles: Beginnings, a prologue for the series of seven graphic novels Ken somehow plans on making, even though it's taken him 13 years to put out literally anything new. I don't know whether or not this counts as book one of seven, because it only features 30 pages of new comics. 30.5 if I'm being generous.
Most of the book is actually just a reprint of his infamous Archie Sonic storyline "Mobius: 25 Years Later", which ran from issue #131 to #144 in 2003-2004. (Again, yes, he can reprint this, he just can't put Sonic on the cover.) Why's it infamous? Well, Ken had been building anticipation for this future era of the series for basically his entire run. We kept seeing King Sonic and Queen Sally from the future. Knuckles' entire backstory hinges on his dad having a vision of this future. Several years before Silver the Hedgehog was created, it was Lara-Su who was Sonic's equivalent to Future Trunks, the cool-looking child of one of the main characters who traveled back in time to try and prevent a dark future. Believe it or not, yes, there was hype for Lara-Su. And then we finally got M25YL, and none of that cool stuff happened. Instead it really ended up being about how unbearably boring the middle aged Sonic, Knuckles, Sally, and co. are in this peaceful future where Robotnik is dead and they're all married with kids, forced into traditional nuclear family gender roles. Lara-Su is present, but she mostly just does generic teen girl stuff and complains about how Knuckles won't let her do anything even though she REALLY wants to be the new Guardian of Angel Island, like, super bad! Come on, dad!!!
In its original printing, this meandering arc ended on an abrupt time travel cliffhanger that Ken was never able to follow up on before he left Archie in 2006. This new printing slightly changes that ending, using the unresolved timey-wimey shenanigans as a convenient excuse to alter the entire timeline. This creates the slightly different world of The Lara-Su Chronicles, where the few relevant Sega-owned characters have been replaced and everyone is ten times uglier.
After this, we finally get two short new stories picking up where M25YL left off: "The Storm," starring Acorn Kingdom super-spy and known creep Geoffrey St. John, and an early release of the first chapter of The Lara-Su Chronicles: Shattered Tomorrows, the first full TLSC graphic novel.
And now that we're all on the same page about what we're looking at, let's actually talk about the book!
The cover
Let's start by beating a dead horse. The cover art: it's still bad! But why is it bad?
The cover is, of course, based on Patrick Spaziante's cover from Archie Sonic #131, the start of the "Mobius: 25 Years Later" arc. (Ken did the layout for that cover, though, so in the eyes of the law he's the original creator who owns that cover.) That cover was, itself, a tribute to the iconic cover of Giant-Size X-Men #1 by Gil Kane and Dave Cockrum, the issue that introduced the version of the team with Wolverine, Storm, Nightcrawler, etc.
Ken seems to have forgotten that the point of both these covers was to hype up the arrival of a new cast of characters. The new guys are supposed to make a dramatic entrance front and center. That's the focal point. Meanwhile, the cover for Beginnings has the old timeline versions of the cast from Archie Sonic dramatically bursting out of a shattered crystal ball, while their new counterparts look on in mild bemusement - if they're even bothering to look at all, since most of the characters here are just copied and pasted from their profile pages. That's just not how you do this particular homage! The point is supposed to be "out with the old, in with the new." And why are they using a crystal ball to view the past? Hell, why are they even using a crystal ball at all? The original arc was presented as a magical vision of the future courtesy of Tails' uncle Merlin (don't ask), but the new story leans all the way into being futuristic sci-fi.
Of course, there is no real artistic intent at play here. The old versions of the characters are placed front and center in the crystal ball simply because Ken traced over Spaziante's original art of Lara-Su and Julie-Su (the only two characters on the Sonic cover he owns) and threw out the rest, ruining the composition in the process. Look at the awkward empty space where Sonic, Sally, and Rotor once were, and the new drawing of The Character Formerly Known As Knuckles who's no longer properly centered between his wife and daughter. Even if Ken can claim ownership of the cover because he did the original layout, this all just feels scummy and lame.
And, yeah, if it needs to be said, the new characters and Ken's new rendering style look like absolute fucking dogshit. Putting new Lara-Su directly next to old Lara-Su does her no favors. The shattered glass effect looks absolutely atrocious. I could go on, but we'll have plenty of time to talk about the art style when we see how bad the stories inside look.
Changes to "Mobius: 25 Years Later"
Overall, 99% of M25YL is presented identically to its original printing. Sonic, Sally, Knuckles, et al. are still present with no changes to their names and no tweaks to the art. Even the original cover for issue #131 is included only a few pages into this book with its Archie, Sonic, and Sega logos still intact and everything. Again, because of the weird copyright situation described above, these preexisting comics can be released without any changes.
There is exactly one bizarre change to the art, though, where a hand drawn shot of Angel Island is replaced with an unfitting photo background and the ugly Floating Island photobash that Ken has been using as his personal logo for decades. I think he only did this as part of a test for his motion comic app that nobody asked for. I don't know why this had to make it into the print version. It's like the book is firing a warning shot for what's to come if you keep reading.
The new content begins on the final page of M25YL. In the original wet fart of a cliffhanger ending, Sonic and co. accidentally alter the timeline with an old time machine of Robotnik's and Lara-Su begins to fade away. Then, after everything goes white, we just cut to the present day heroes going "gee, you ever think about the future?" In this new printing, that last bit has been cut, and the rest of the page has been awkwardly shrunk down so that Ken can fit in a new panel. We now see the hands of an off-screen villain, seemingly named "Override," proclaiming that "the Praetorian" (Knuckles) has messed up the timeline again and that they'll finally get their revenge.
Who is this Override? I have no fucking clue. The new stories in this book make no mention of them. You have to buy the next book to find out.
My confusion over the identity of this villain overlaps with another big problem: name changes. So many names and nouns have been arbitrarily changed in The Lara-Su Chronicles, even ones Ken didn't have to change for copyright reasons, and I only know what half of them are replacing because Ken's been tweeting about this shit for years.
The echidnas are now a totally original alien race called "the Echyd'nya." Even in flashbacks to events from M25YL attempting to mimic the old art style, if it's on a new comic page, they're gonna call themselves "Echyd'nya." Evil echidna faction the Dark Legion is now the "Cyberdark Dominion," hailing from the "Cyberdark Colony." The Brotherhood of Guardians is still the Brotherhood of Guardians, but now the main guardian is called "The Praetorian." Angel Island is still called "The Floating Island," like it was in the older Archie comics, but it's ALSO sometimes called "Avion"? When I read this I wasn't sure if he had randomly renamed Albion, the other echidna city from the Archie comics. But no. Now we have an Albion AND an Avion. Sally is mentioned simply as "Princess Acorn," while Sonic is referenced once as an unnamed "blue-spined Erinaceinae," using the scientific name for hedgehog to make it sound more sci-fi. In an incredibly ballsy move, Ken even mentions Robotnik as "the Insurrectionist Kintobor," retaining his original surname from the Archie comics that's just "Robotnik" backwards. Guess Sega never trademarked that one.
Aside from every name change being a downgrade, this leads to confusion when you're not sure if something is supposed to be new, or if it's just an Archie thing you're supposed to recognize despite having a new name and design. Is "Override" someone I'm supposed to know already? Am I just supposed to have read a fucking tweet from Ken where he said he changed the name of some existing villain to "Override"? The answer is no, but I had to term search his Twitter just to verify this.
Moving on!
New story #1: "The Storm"
If you've been following the WIPs, this is that story about Geoffrey St. John that Ken's been posting previews of for almost a decade. The title page copyright dates it to 2015, and that absurdly long gestation is probably why the art is so inconsistent here. Even the style of speech bubbles and the font change between pages two and three.
This is a problem when there's supposed to be a deliberate and noticeable change in art style here signaling the moment where the time travel stuff alters the timeline, replacing the Archie Sonic world with the Lara-Su Chronicles world. If you don't already know that's what's going on, the idea isn't conveyed clearly at all. It just goes from one hideous art style to a slightly different one with no explanation.
The main problem here is that Ken has hitched his wagon to a franchise about anthropomorphic animals when he can't draw furries to save his life. (Though a bit later in the book we'll also begin to wonder if he can even still draw humans.) He's shifted away from the cartooniness of the original designs and given them more human proportions and facial features, but this just ends up making them look incredibly uncanny and lumpy and gross. With some designs he's trying to lean into more of a Star Trek alien vibe, but then he still insists upon retaining the giant Sonic eyes on most characters even though he has no idea how to make them emote.
The rendering of these godawful designs doesn't do them any favors, either. Ken's going for more of a painterly look now, but it almost seems as though he's shading everything with Photoshop's burn and dodge tools that are designed to darken and lighten select areas of a photo. The result is a muddy, smudgy look that makes it feel like the color layer has been smeared in vaseline. And it only looks worse after coming off of 14 chapters of M25YL that have way more palatable art.
The backgrounds, too, are a complete mess, a jumble of low res jpeg photo elements (sometimes with extremely noticeable pixelation), stock textures, and smooth digital gradients. There's no real sense of place here, and it gives everything a surreal, dreamlike quality when you can't really tell where anything is supposed to take place. This first story is seemingly set in a high-tech stronghold below Castle Acorn called "the Bunker," but it could just as easily be confused for the bridge of a spaceship. This whole story features characters speaking to each other over floating video displays and hologram projectors from three different locations, but without a hologram effect and without a clear sense of where the characters are it often feels like they're just in the same room as each other. Characters will be in one location on one photo background, and then the camera angle changes and they're in a completely different place, because Ken just uses mismatched photos off of the internet. It's been like 25 years since he first tried using photo backgrounds in the Archie comics and he hasn't gotten any better at it.
When I had my boyfriend read the book to see if it made literally any sense to him (it didn't), Anthony said this: "This is the kind of shit I'd see linked on a Second Life world that hasn't been touched since 2004." I think he really hit the nail on the head. Now, there's actually a contrarian part of me that thinks that might theoretically almost be kind of cool, in sort of a messy counterculture way. I love weird indie shit. I was a Homestuck reader! But this isn't a scrappy mixed media zine, or experimental outsider art from someone just messing around with Photoshop, or a loving throwback to weird old internet art, or even something intentionally bizarre and offputting like Xavier: Renegade Angel or a PilotRedSun video or whatever where the fact that it's weird and ugly is part of the humor. This is supposed to be a sincere sci-fi epic drawing on Star Trek and Jack Kirby comics, made by a guy who's been drawing comics professionally since the '80s. This is supposed to look good. This is supposed to compete with mainstream comics that are on sale right now. He thinks any day now IDW's gonna go out of business and Sega will come crawling back to him so that he can stamp the Sonic logo on shit like this. It just doesn't work.
But, okay. It's ugly. We knew it would be ugly. But that ugliness would be much easier to accept if it was in service of an otherwise genuinely good story. So what about the writing? After all this time, how does Ken choose to kick off this new saga? Well, credit where credit's due. "The Storm" feels like a proper continuation of Ken's writing style from M25YL.
Because it's eleven pages of characters standing around and talking while nothing fucking happens.
Here's the synopsis: A dog woman named Brownie, an ensign in the Royal Secret Service fresh out of training and the only character who's almost cute, walks up to Geoffrey to deliver a report. He's immediately suspicious of her, asking who let her in and if she's a spy for Elias (Sally's brother, if you're new here) or Alicia (Sally's mom). The art style suddenly shifts when the timeline is altered, but the scene continues uninterrupted. Geoffrey points a gun at Brownie when she won't say whose spy she is. Geoffrey is distracted by a call and proceeds to have a conversation via a mix of holograms and video screens with Remington (head of Echidnaopolis security), Spectre (Knuckles' great great great great great grandpa, the one with the helmet who always looks evil), and a new scientist character named Dr. Zephyr/Zephur. (The spelling of this character's name changes multiple times throughout the 11-page story, because I guess nine years wasn't enough time to spellcheck this shit.) They say a bunch of made up technobabble nonsense about how it looks like the timeline was just altered and Knuckles and co. seem to be involved. It's complete drivel that I'm not even going to try to make sense of. Everyone decides to investigate further, and the conversation ends. Brownie tells Geoffrey she's his spy, then walks out and implies she's actually Alicia's spy in her inner monologue.
To be continued!!!
Yes, that's it. It's really just a bunch of technobabble where some characters talk about how it seems like the timeline has been fucked with. That's it. The whole time Geoffrey doesn't even get up out of his damn chair, which he's of course sitting in backwards to show how cool he is. It's just 11 pages of Geoffrey sitting in a chair and talking to people and looking uglier than he's ever looked. Nothing happens. Nine years for this.
I'm also struck by how meaningless all of this is to anyone who hasn't read Archie Sonic. The added context from M25YL may help a little, but "The Storm" focuses on characters who weren't in that arc, and the story does very little to introduce who any of them are. Brownie could've been super useful as an inexperienced point of view character who's only meeting the others for the first time here, but instead she's really just a passive observer who's here as part of some kind of 4D chess game between Geoffrey and Alicia, an off-screen character whose motivations in this era of the story are completely unknown to even returning readers. Who are the good guys and bad guys here? What are the conflicts and the stakes of the story moving forward? What do these characters want? Basic questions like this aren't really answered. I can't imagine a new reader being able to make heads or tails of this. Hell, I can't really imagine a returning reader who hasn't been following the last decade's worth of Ken's tweets about this story making heads or tails of it, either.
...Maybe more will happen in the next story?
New story #2: Shattered Tomorrows preview chapter
After another message from Ken, the story of The Lara-Su Chronicles proper begins with the redesigned Lara-Su walking along a jpeg photograph beach at sunset and crying while thinking about how Knuckles - sorry, his name is K'Nox now - is dead.
Yep! Straight into the dad stuff!
Look, I'm the last person to complain about writers getting super personal and drawing from their own baggage in their writing, but Ken's just no fucking good at it. There's no nuance, nothing interesting to say. He just keeps writing mediocre-to-horrible dads whose misdeeds are always justified by their "good intentions," and then sometimes they die and their kids are like "we may have fought but actually you were the bestest dad ever and I'll miss you forever, I'll never be able to fill your shoes!"
This is the only part of the new material here that feels like it has any heart behind it, because I know how much his complex relationship with his late deadbeat father means to Ken (there's an author's note in this outright saying as much). But the guy died 42 years ago, and it doesn't feel like Ken has had any new thoughts about this part of his life in those four decades. He's just not an introspective or self-aware enough artist to actually mine his personal baggage for anything beyond "father knows best."
Anyway, so then it jumps forward in time(?) and now we're following this human guy who looks like this.
Previously, Ken got a lot of shit for literally just using the likeness of Anthony Mackie for this guy, based on his IMDB profile photo. Ken has thus redesigned the character... and by that I mean I think he looks more like Ernie Hudson now? Ken's clearly just working off of photo references (if not straight up tracing), given his face is the most detailed and realistic-looking thing on any page where he's present.
But you may be wondering: who is this, and why is he here? Well, for one, he's here to run around in front of some low res space photos while making trite references to things like Planet of the Apes and Star Trek. Haha, he makes a joke about red shirts! Original!! But beyond that, Commander Mykhal Taelor (yes, that's really how he chose to spell it) is a human... from Earth! Archie Sonic readers are probably confused, because in those comics Mobius is Earth in the distant post-apocalyptic future. Well, despite being a Planet of the Apes fan, Ken always hated that particular worldbuilding decision from Karl Bollers, always preferring to think of Mobius as a separate alien planet. And now he gets to make that canon in his own stories and throw out Karl's ideas. So Mobius is basically just, like, a Star Trek planet now, with its own alien creatures that sometimes just so happen to look like anthropomorphic Earth animals.
Also, at one point Taelor wonders if the inhabitants of the dead Mobius might have been human, and the alien ally he's talking to over the radio says it's unlikely. "I don't understand why your kind has a problem understanding you're a minority within a minority." Perhaps poor wording for a line said to the only Black character in the story.
Anyway, Commander Taelor here seems to have discovered the uninhabited husk of Mobius after the vague time-space cataclysm everyone was worried about in M25YL has come to pass, and he finds an audio log from Lara-Su that I presume will explain what happened. I guess those are the titular Lara-Su Chronicles. In theory this flash forward establishes some sense of pressing danger, but when the threat to the planet is so unclear and technobabble-y it just kind of lands with a thud.
It doesn't take long before we get back to Lara-Su being sad about her dad. A good little chunk of the chapter is spent with this new timeline's Lara-Su recalling moments in her life, including echoes of the original Lara-Su's memories from M25YL, which feels redundant coming hot off the heels of a straight reprint of that entire arc. And boy, for anyone who read the later Archie Sonic comics, the protagonist having vague memories of the old version of the series from before a lawsuit-related timeline reboot sure does sound familiar, huh?
The art inconsistency somehow becomes even worse in this story, with Ken flip-flopping on whether or not he wants to use outlines, with the no-outline art managing to look even worse by relying entirely on Ken's awful rendering. By this point in the book, readers are also likely to start noticing how often Ken reuses art from previous panels. This is a shortcut that tons of comic artists use, of course. Invincible famously did a joke about this. It's often understandable. But, again... it sure does stand out in a book that took 13 years to make with only 30 pages of new art. Amusingly, Ken even manages to combine his inconsistency and recycling problems by reusing the same art with and without outlines. And, of course, any time Ken tries to draw the Archie era designs it's just... the worst.
And, yes, it's in this dreamlike montage sequence of Lara-Su's life that we get...
The uncomfortable family nudity scene, followed by the dual timeline Julie-Su breastfeeding scene.
Yeah, you might have heard about this one already. If this incredibly eerie presentation of Lara-Su's hazy memories of the two different timelines make it hard to tell what's going on, don't worry. There's another, clearer version later in the book as part of Julie-Su's character profile, because I guess Ken was just so proud of it.
(I censored these myself because I'm not playing Russian roulette with Tumblr's inconsistent nudity rules and risking getting banned lmao)
Like, okay. Is a mother breastfeeding her child really that shocking of a thing to see in a story? No, not at all. But, like... when it's two characters who you previously created for an officially licensed Sonic the Hedgehog comic for 7-year-olds... and some of those officially licensed Sonic the Hedgehog comics for 7-year-olds are reprinted in the same book... and when it's drawn like this... yeah, it's kind of a shocker.
It just looks so unnatural. Julie-Su is posed very deliberately so that you'll see both of her breasts, and in the new timeline version she's barely even holding Lara-Su so you can really get a good look at her supermodel body, showing zero physical signs that she just gave birth. Most people will immediately jump to this being Ken putting his fetishes in his work (a type of criticism that I'm incredibly tired of - it's 2024, all the cool artists are blatantly putting their fetishes in their work now). And my immediate response is that, no, this is probably just Ken trying to come off as really mature on a surface level, a thing he's been obsessed with since the Archie days. Free from the shackles of writing a licensed children's comic, of course he's going to jump immediately into depicting some nonsexual, artistic nudity to try and prove he's A Real Mature Artist For Grown-Ups who just thinks the human body is beautiful and breastfeeding shouldn't be a taboo etc. etc.
But then, like. You look at some of the other character designs. Like Espio's daughter Salma, who's now this horrifying alien lizard person who's always nude, and her scale pattern puts scales exactly where her nipples should be. Or you look at his comments about the Echyd'nya age of consent. Or you look at how he keeps drawing Lara-Su in this. Like, does the shuttle really need this, like... reverse chaise lounge thing in the cockpit? So that we can keep getting these shots of the 16-year-old Lara-Su lying on her stomach and posing with one of her legs kicked up, her naked ass in plain view?
The vibe isn't great, is what I'm saying!
I'm not going to try to ascribe authorial intent here. I don't know. I'm not a psychic. Given his very blatant reliance on photo references elsewhere in the book, it's entirely possible he just referenced some figure drawing photos that were maybe just a little too sexy. And also, he's an American comic book artist, and a boomer one at that. Those guys tend to draw women a certain way, even when it's not supposed to be sexual. I don't fucking know. It just sucks. I'm not gonna make some hyperbolic statement about how this makes him a literal pedophile who should be in jail, but it is deeply offputting and objectifying.
But if you already knew about the nursing scenes and were hoping there was some other really shocking stuff in there for me to talk about in this review, sorry to disappoint, but nope. That's the only shockingly weird new thing in here. Once again, not a lot happens in this story, and what does happen is pretty boring.
Once we get past the recap stuff and the human guy, the plot developments boil down to this: The timeline was altered at the end of M25YL... but not as much as you might think. In the new timeline, Knuckles ("K'Nox"), Cobar (now looking significantly younger), and Rotor (now a rhino just called "The Emissary") still traveled via shuttle to go find a time machine in the Badlands and fix the time-space continuum, like in the climax of the original arc. This time, though, Sonic wasn't there, and Lara-Su came along without having to stow away. Lara-Su watches the ship while the grown ups go deal with the time machine, and then after a couple panels Not Rotor comes back with Cobar and is like "Hey, Cobar got hurt, we gotta leave. Dunno what happened to your dad." And then they just, like. Presume that Knuckles must have died. Even though we have no idea what happened to him. And then they just fly away. And then Lara-Su is sad that her dad died.
And that's pretty much it!
This is supposed to be a really emotional sequence - it's literally the scene where Lara-Su learns that Knuckles is dead - but instead it comes off as unintentionally funny because of how poorly it's portrayed. Not showing Knuckles' actual disappearance is a huge misstep, for one, making his uncertain fate more confusing and anticlimactic than dramatic. But also, Ken keeps just using the same two drawings of Rotor for two pages, so he doesn't really seem to be emoting at all, and he's in this spacey hazmat suit that honestly just makes him look like fucking Moltar from Space Ghost. So the whole time I'm just reading his dialogue in Moltar's deadpan voice as he's like "I dunno. We did what we could. Anyway, let's leave."
After this, we get a two-page spread previewing the rest of the story from Shattered Tomorrows. It's basically like a trailer in comic form. It has one of the most mystifying layouts I've ever seen in a comic book. I have no idea what order I'm supposed to read this in.
Yeah, I kinda have a feeling this is the full extent of what Ken has drawn for the rest of that book. I'd love to be wrong, but I fear that I'm right.
Bonus material: Data files
These are mostly very dull, recapping a lot of events shared between Ken's Archie run and the new Lara-Su Chronicles timeline. It seems like almost his entire run is still considered canon to the backstory of the new timeline, just with some names changed, and things only really diverge at the climax of M25YL. But I'll share the interesting stuff here.
Lara-Su
The main thing you'll notice in Lara-Su's profile is the massive, unreadable wall of text where Ken felt the need to list the entire Knuckles family tree, split across both pages.
This is literally so long that Lara-Su's personal history has to awkwardly cut off mid-sentence and be continued on the final page of the book, after the rest of the data files.
Also, please note that this list gives Julie-Su's mom's full name as Mari-Su of the House of Atrades. Incredible on all levels.
There's also a reference to the dark timeline Lara-Su was originally supposed to come from. You know, the one where Julie-Su is the leader of a rebel movement fighting against a Knuckles who had gone mad with power? The timeline that would have been way more interesting than the one in M25YL? Here it seems to have been written off as the result of another "timeline disruption." Lara-Su allegedly has vague memories of this timeline, in the same way that she has vague memories of the M25YL timeline.
Geoffrey
Geoffrey's bio mostly recaps events from the Archie comics, which means the Sonic/Sally/Geoffrey love triangle has to be alluded to. His rivalry with Sonic is described like this:
"He would later resurface when Kintobor was transporting his latest hi-tech weapon, the Dynamac-3000. It was during that mission he discovered a rival for the Princess' affections. Whereas the Princess would be one of a line of conquests where St. John was concerned, the blue-spined Erinaceinae who protested doth a bit too much regarding his affections for the Princess for St. John's taste would prove to be a source of great sport and amusement."
Yes. It's gross. Saying that Geoffrey saw Sally as "one of a line of conquests" is gross. Ken writing this and then still treating Geoffrey as the coolest badass ever is gross. The "Princess Acorn" is also first on the list of Geoffrey's "female relationships" elsewhere in his bio, though I suppose how much of a "relationship" they had is left vague. Honestly, at this point the fact that Ken didn't explicitly confirm that Geoffrey took the underage Sally's virginity in the book comes off as a display of restraint. The bar couldn't be any lower, I know.
Remington
His bio is, frankly, shockingly long for such a minor character, though I guess he does get a large portion of the word salad dialogue in "The Storm." There's a lot of stuff here about how the identities of his biological parents are shrouded in mystery, a plot point that fans have long speculated Ken just straight up forgot about in his time at Archie. (Ian confirmed that Kragok from the Dark Legion was Remington's dad, though, so this isn't really much of a mystery.)
Lien-Da
She gets a bio even though she's not present in the two new stories, just so we get to look at her awful new design and compare it to how Steven Butler drew her earlier in the book:
Commander Taelor
We get to see two drawings of him with the same exact Ernie Hudson face side by side! That's fun.
Julie-Su
She gets a list of "known friends," but the only character listed is Knuckles' mom. Poor Julie-Su.
Also, Ken feels the need to reiterate that Knuckles and Julie-Su are still distant cousins. He made a whole new timeline where he can change whatever details he wants, but THAT had to remain canon. Thanks, Ken.
And then after the data files we get the special thanks page, listing everyone who preordered the book and/or bought TLSC merch from Ken.
With my name on the list. Because I had to buy a copy to cover it for the blog.
My name is on the very next page right after the breastfeeding panel in Julie-Su's data file.
Yep. He got me.
Is it at least a well put together book? Like, in terms of manufacturing quality?
Its physical quality is... fine. It's a nice, sturdy hardcover. The print quality seems fine, though mine does have a bit of smudging from some sort of printing error on one page. The pages don't seem like they'll fall out on me. The image quality is crisp. The colors are vibrant. This is a low bar, but this is one of the few places where I'm able to give this book anything resembling praise.
The formatting and graphic design work, on the other hand...
(I didn't crumple those page corners, it came like that.)
For one, the placement and sizes of the M25YL pages is inconsistent, largely due to the fact that the book doesn't actually match the proportions of a comic. A lot of pages aren't properly centered vertically. Some pages go all the way up to the top edge of the paper, while others leave a visible gap of about half a centimeter. Every page has a 1cm gap to its left and right, which is sometimes filled in with a solid color or gradient that doesn't quite match the page it's surrounding. I have to assume Ken didn't have any sort of source files or original artwork to work off of, as those ideally would've had more generous bleed to account for slight shifts in printing. It kind of seems like he just got the highest resolution versions he could find of the digital releases online and printed those. The colors are a dead ringer for the digital versions, which have always looked slightly more saturated and pastel than they did in print.
I can't say this bodes well for his further plans for Archie Sonic reprints - sorry, Mobian Line reprints. If they ever come out, please, for the love of god, do not buy those. I don't care how much you love Archie Sonic, they aren't going to be good reprints. For comparison, IDW's similarly priced hardcover Sonic collections have none of these formatting problems, because they're made by people who know what they're doing with access to the actual source files.
The book also has its fair share of text-focused pages, split between the data files and messages directly from Ken about the history of his career and this project, and these are formatted in the most amateurish way possible. Just massive walls of Arial text over either plain white backgrounds, simple gradients, or faded photos. I've seen school yearbooks with better graphic design. Even ignoring my subjective feelings about the art and stories within, this book does not feel like it's worth $36 USD.
It's frankly shocking how shabby he let this thing look considering it's supposed to be his baby. And doesn't that really sum it all up?
Closing thoughts
Obviously, I did not expect this to be any good. But I'm still left kind of dumbfounded by it.
I think what really strikes me about it is that Ken had a blank check to do whatever he wanted here. He got an opportunity many writers would kill for when he gained complete ownership of his most famous work. He's free from the limitations of a monthly licensed comic book for children, free to make whatever creative decisions he wants without editors or other writers or Sega to worry about, free to completely reinvent the series to his heart's content and finally tell the story of his dreams. And with that opportunity and 13 years of his time, he made... this. A direct continuation of "Mobius: 25 Years Later" that barely changes anything about the characters or world beyond their awful new designs, even though much of the word count is spent rambling about how the timeline has changed. A story that makes zero concessions for new readers, or even returning readers who don't already have the last decade's worth of Ken's tweets explaining his creative decisions burned into their memory. 30 pages where nothing really happens and the story barely moves forward an inch despite the decades-long wait - but maybe something will happen if you buy the next book!
Who is this for? Maybe this really is a project for no one but Ken. Maybe he just really, really wants to finish the story he started, a story that's personal to him due to the family history it evokes, and the number of people who enjoy it or buy it beyond that is irrelevant. I think that many of the best artists are incredibly self-indulgent ones working with that exact mindset, artists whose enthusiasm for their own work jumps off the page or screen. So, if that's the case, then why the fuck isn't he telling the damn story? What's stopping him? Why is he still spinning his wheels? Where is that passion for his own work? Because it sure as hell isn't there on the page. There's a huge part of me that really wishes I could say "Man, what a weirdo, but you do you, Ken. You tell your weird little story." But there's barely any story here. It's like he loves styling himself as a storyteller, but he's terrified of finally having to actually tell a story after all this time. He's still stuck in the exact same mode of writing he was in almost 30 years ago when he was doing 6-page backup stories about Knuckles, just killing time and stringing readers along until he's eventually able to truly realize his vision. If not now, then when, Ken?
Even the back cover blurb is mostly just a dry recap of the history of this thing. It was a Sonic comic, the original arc was published in these issues, it went unfinished, Ken left Archie, the lawsuits happened, now he's continuing the story. There's nothing about why anyone should give a shit about this as its own story, even though Ken has spent years trying in vain to convince people TLSC is its own beast that shouldn't be judged as a Sonic story. I think deep down he knows that there's no pitch for this beyond the novelty of it originating from Sonic. And that's why, despite declaring that he'd leave the site, he's still on Twitter riling up Sonic fans. It's the only attention he gets at this point.
Maybe this is too harsh when those 30 pages of new comics are just intended as a preview for the "real" book. But the elephant in the room is that we have no idea if that "real" book will ever actually come out, let alone the entire series of seven graphic novels that will supposedly complete this saga.
Ken is undeniably a complete jackass and all around unpleasant, vindictive person who's rightly become an industry pariah. He's a self-proclaimed paragon of progressive values who'll send Comicsgaters after his successors for the crime of not worshiping the ground he walks on, and then turn around and announce he's going to reprint their work without even consulting them. He's a sore winner who already won his copyright battle on a level most comic writers would never dare to dream of, and yet still won't truly be satisfied until he sees an entire major comic publisher go out of business, putting god knows how many people out of work, because he thinks this would get him back the license to a video game franchise he doesn't even like.
But I still have to pity him.
As an artist, the trajectory of his life is my nightmare. I think all of us fear dying before we can tell all the stories we want to tell. There's simply never enough time to do everything. And here's Ken in his 60s, talking about how he's still planning on making his magnum opus all by himself out of stubbornness and pride, despite demonstrably proving he can't handle the workload, and also talking about how if he dies before the project can be finished he'll have to pass the torch on to his kids and get them to finish it for him. It's so grim. Even just typing that sends a shiver down my spine. It took nine years of his limited time on Earth to finish and release an 11-page comic about Geoffrey St. John sitting backwards in a chair.
This is a purgatory of his own creation. And yet... I'm not sure he's ever been prouder. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.
I guess if I want people to take anything away from this review, it's this:
Lesson one: If you're an artist or writer of some kind, or an aspiring creator, don't wait around. No one else is going to tell your story for you. Start writing that novel. Start drawing that webcomic. Start making that game. If Penders can put out this damn book that no one asked for after 13 years of work, then proudly proclaim that he's still going to make six or seven more books and also reprint hundreds of comics he doesn't have all of the rights to, then show up to cons with that foul Lara-Su Chronicles: Shattered Tomorrows banner and sit in front of it beaming with pride, fully aware of his critics but saying "fuck 'em, I know I'm hot shit," then you can do fucking anything. Tell the weird, sincere, cringe story of your dreams. If Ken Penders doesn't have imposter syndrome, then nobody should.
And lesson two: Don't buy Ken's books.
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Single Dad!Simon who vowed to never trust another woman again after his failed past. He was locked up with the key thrown away, permanently off of the market.
At least thatâs what heâd told himself for years. Now, he was beginning to have cold feet.
Simon needed a nanny, one that he could trust completely. He didnât play about his child, and heâd be damned if he got set up with someone of ill intentions.
But, he was desperate.
Price needed him back periodically, even after his retirement, and he agreed. After all, money was tight when he parented on his own with a growing child.
That was when you came in. Soap had been a pal and recommended an old family friend, somebody he knew Simon could trust with his kid. Simon was skeptical, of course, but Soap had never done him wrong. Reluctantly, he agreed.
Simon wanted to have a trial period to see if you were truly built for the task. He wouldnât let you off easily. His child was his world, and women werenât exactly in his deck of cards when it came to trust.
You were as sweet as honey upon the first meeting with a smile that could outdo the sun. Your voice was soft as rain, flowing out of you like a summer song. You spoke to him with the upmost respect, and even more so with his child.
Simon knew he could trust Soap in guaranteeing somebody safe. You were the perfect candidate. He just didnât know it would lead into him feeling emotions heâd buried a long, long time ago.
Attraction. Interest. A crush, dare he say, like he was a stupid high school kid that just saw the prettiest girl in class and fell head over heels.
He had a silly crush on his childâs nanny when he fully intended to keep it short and professional. That was the way he operated. He was like a working machine, and you had undone his mechanics so easily to the point he struggled to function.
Seeing you with his child only caused his attraction to fester deeper. His child became attached to your hip, smiling more than they had ever done, rambling nonsense to him every time he returned home and you left to go to yours.
It was becoming hard to deny it. You opened an old wound of Simonâs, awakening that deep and dreadful loneliness he felt every passing day. Every smile, every laugh, every Mr. Riley even though you were close in age, all of it had him on the edge of his seat.
He wanted more. He was tired of denying himself happiness. The idea of pushing away every woman was still very vivid in his mind, but denying you just seemed criminal the more time passed.
âI never got to thank you for allowing me in to your home, Mr. Riley,â you told him one day, ever so sweet.
âThought I told you to call me Simon,â he grunted, avoiding your eyes as the two of you stood in the doorway.
âRight. Simon,â you corrected with a radiant smile. âYou have quite the kid, Iâll tell you that. I always look forward to coming over. It makes my day seeing the two of you.â
Simon could feel his heart pattering against his ribcage. His hands were sweaty, and he prayed you didnât notice him swipe them along his jeans.
âBoth of us?â he hummed.
âOf course. Youâre just as exciting to see, too, Mr. Ri- Simon.â
Simonâs lips quirked up the slightest bit, but his heart was in his ass. For the first time in a long time, a woman was making him shy and nervous, and it didnât feel as bad as it did before.
âYouâre always free to come over for dinner,â he offered.
âThat sounds great, Iâd love to have dinner with the two of you!â you exclaimed, beaming.
He didnât understand how you could be so bright yet so oblivious at the same time.
Simon cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably on the balls of his feet. âI meant, the two of us.â
You stared at him like heâd grown two heads, and he nearly slammed the door in your face from the sheer anxiety that spiked in him. He couldnât read your mind or what you were feeling, and Simon wished he had never said anything to begin with.
âThat sounds wonderful,â you said instead. Now it was Simonâs turn to stare at you crazy. âIâd love that.â
Simon realized he was staring too long, so he cleared his throat once again, giving you a brief nod and looking away. âAlright. Iâll text you a day and have Soap pick up the little monster for the night.â
When you agreed and left with the smile that made his heart ache, he didnât waste a second in texting Soap, telling him heâd be on nanny duty for one night that week.
Soap was quick to agree, but not without a little âYouâre welcome ;)â text back.
#call of duty#cod#cod x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley#ghost cod#ghost drabble#ghost simon riley#cod ghost#ghost x reader#ghost#simon âghostâ riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x you
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Singledad!Toji who you kicked out once finding out he had not one, but TWO secret kids and did not tell you. Maybe you were overreacting, but you also took in consideration that maybe if he just, idk, told you?! Youâd be fine with it.
Singledad!Toji who begged and pleaded for you to give him a second chance. He never grovels, rarely even asks. But he just needed you in his life.
Singledad!Toji who invited you over for dinner to make up for it. You reluctantly accepted, it was free dinner so!
Singledad!Toji who also forgot that that same dinner day was the same day he had Megumi and Tsumiki as his sister couldnât babysit. It completely slipped out of his mind that the whole weekend, the kids would be there.
Singledad!Toji who repeatedly apologised when you walked in and was met with a plethora of toys scattered across the carpet floor. âI tried to clean up butâŠthey keep playing-â A chuckle interrupted him. When he looked up and saw it came from you, he smiled.
âItâs fine. Kids are fun.â You say.
He walked you to the sitting room and both the kids halted in their movement. They both looked at you wide eyed, curious and confused. You noticed the boy slowly hide behind his sister as Toji began to talk, âKids, this is Y/N. Be nice and respectful, okay?
Singledad!Toji who lets his kids talk over the course of dinner. Well, it was more Tsumiki talking and everyone else listening. âAnd Iâm older than Megumi but daddy says I act younger because I talk tooo much! Right, Megumi?â
âYeah-â âAnd, also, my mom is not his mom because his mom is in heaven but my mom left. So, my daddy said that if we want you to be our new mom, we have to be kind to you. Right, Megumi?â
Megumi nodded. You looked at Toji to see him try to hide his blush. âAnd I told dad to make funazushi but he said no because he canât cook that well. So, we made udon. Is it nice?â She grinned.
Singledad!Toji who held a sleeping Megumi and Tsumiki in his arms as they stayed wayyy past their bedtime. You said goodnight to the two of them dozens of times before they accepted that they had to go to sleep.
When Toji returned from the kids rooms, he a frown had formed on his lips, âSorry about them. Megumi is really shy andâŠTsumikiâŠâ He let out a light chuckle.
âDonât worry about it, Toji. They seem like really great kids, they must have a great dad.â You smiled at him, and for the first time in a while, Toji smiled back.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#toji fushiguro x reader#toji angst#toji x y/n#jujutsu toji#toji fluff#jjk toji#toji fushiguro#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji x reader#toji x you
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ËËË đ  JJK MEN AS OVERPROTECTIVE GIRL DADS gojo, sukuna & geto .á
âË áŻâ
  about ! âa little girlâs first love will always be her father." three scenarios in which the daughters of three jjk men introduce their boyfriends to their fathers. ( 5.7K )
warnings ! minors blank and ageless blogs do not interact. video banner. not beta read. sfw, fluff, angst if you squint, no-curses!au, mentions of pregnancy, children and babies, the children have no names, some family issues, married life, domestic bliss, husband + father!jjk men, mother + fem!reader.
sonic says ! hello everyone !! i wanted to try my hand at some head canons and scenarios, i couldnât get this idea out of my head so put a pause on working on kinktober to write it lol!! hope you enjoy <3 - m.list â read on ao3 ! ֎ àŁȘđ€âÂ
áŻâ
SATORU GOJO:
before meeting you, satoru gojo had never been fond of a family dinner.Â
in his childhood home â they were cold and quiet, pockets of clattering cutlery would cut through painstaking silence and distract from the loud emptiness of the seat at the head of the table where his own father was supposed to be. his mother, often solemn and sunken in the shoulders, never spoke. never cooked and slipped small bites to her son in between preparation or steps.
they had staff for that, they had staff for everything.
to keep the household clean and together. to keep him fed and breathing. to keep him alive. all requirements felt almost clinical, the environment in which he was raised almost like the white walls of a hospital â without a trace of love needed for a child like satoru gojo needed to thrive.Â
even if he had all the money in the world, he hadnât a drop of love. he wasnât ever sure if he was capable of the warm and fuzzy emotion, didnât know if it was something his heart could ever open up to â sealed in by layers of cool, cold concrete and cement. kept in a safe without a key. at least until you miraculously found it and melted the thick layers of ice blocking satoruâs veins. you brought back colour to his cheeks and light to his eyes, taking up the space in his heart where his family had left a swirling, black void.Â
to satoru, you were a saving grace. his everything⊠and he swore heâd never be like his father; who left his wife unhappy and empty, like a abandoned shell. he promised; heâd do much better than his parents ever did. especially when you found out you were pregnant, even more so when your little girl came into the world with plentiful white curls and lashes, screaming at the top of her teeny tiny lungs.Â
at the time, you were sure youâd never seen satoru gojo so in love ( and so teary eyed too ) â but you knew what becoming a parent meant to him. what it meant for the new life you now shared.
but now, having met you and married you and created life with you â satoru had found a new appreciation for family dinners. they were a sacred event, a special time for him to keep up with the lives of his children and let them know he was there. present.Â
it wasnât a time to be imposed on and certainly not by meddlesome boyfriends brought home by sixteen year old daughters.
âso kid, whatâs your 401K look like?âÂ
satoru carries a look of disdain, his nostrils flared, blue eyes narrowed and perfect pink lips curled in an unhappy frown.Â
the young boy opposite him, a little scrawny and awkward, shrinks underneath the white haired manâs intense gaze â if you squinted, you could probably see him shaking like a little leaf in the intense wind from across the table âum⊠i donât know?â
âhear that little guy? no 401K⊠howâs he meant to take care of your sister. yeah, yeah.
youâre right, iâll give him a chance,â he mutters to the baby boy snoozing happily in his arms under his breath, engaging in a one sided conversation before switching his focus back to his daughterâsâŠsorry excuse for a partner. âokay then⊠finances, clearly not. academics and common sense ââ pausing, the white haired father of two clicks his tongue, pushing it into the soft flesh on the inside of his cheek as if to feel his next words out in his mouth. âdo you even know what a bouquet of flowers is, kid? a corsage? gojo women donât play about their flowers, yanno.âÂ
âsirââ
without giving the boy a chance to speak, gojo drops his intrusive gaze under the table and back up again â pointing an accusatory finger at his little girlâs partner. âyour top buttonâs undone and your shoe laces are untied. you might wanna fix that! if you care about my daughterâs safety!â he turns his nose up all petulant like a picky toddler being forced to eat his veggies, he even sticks his tongue out for good measure. gojoâs eccentric movements nearly jostle his sleepy son in place. the baby whines and gurgles a little bit, only soothed by a pat to his back from dad â who repositions him to snooze over his shoulder.
in a silent, quieter gesture, satoru uses two fingers to point between his eyes and the boyâs. almost as if to say âiâm watching you.â
catching him in the act, the eldest gojo daughter bounces into the room carrying plates of steaming hot food, exhaling with worm down patience evident in her body language. âdaddy please, you donât act like this normally. stop messing around.â rolling her eyes, she sets the dishes down, freeing up her hand to smack the back of her dadâs clearly empty skull. just like her mother.
âwell sooooorrry for being a good dad and caring about your wellbeing! who youâre dating! who youâre bringing into our bloodline!â gojo rebuttals with petish grunts, unable to cradle the back of his injured head like he does with his son. Â
and as if by magic, you, his beautiful and loving and gorgeous wife appear with dinner plates in hand to double down on a scolding the white haired man. amused, you also swat at your husbandâs head and tut down at him. âsatoru? what are you doing?â thereâs something about the way you tease and tell gojo off that always makes his heart race, even after all these years of marriage and raising his kids. he loves you, his family so much. he almost keens into your touch like a pathetic dog, until your daughter starts gagging at the sight â slipping into her set. you were supposed to be watching the baby. not interrogating the poor kid.âÂ
âweâre having a heart to heart, babe,â gojo swoons, clearing his throat as his head bobs in the direction of his daughterâs boyfriend. âjimbob here was just telling me about his 3.4% grade point average.â
âitâs hiro sir! and uh⊠3.5% sir.â the boyfriend in question chirps shyly.
you know that your husband feels⊠almost threatened by another man entering your daughterâs life â theyâve been practically inseparable since the moment she first opened her eyes. to give up the duty of loving and protecting her and pass it onto someone else is probably what scares him the most. âthatâs pretty good hun!â you comment absentmindedly, hoping to pull satoru away from the conversation.
âno itâs not! our daughter has a 4.0%.â
âs-she was failing in math, i was tutoring her.â the boyfriend hopefully interjects again, whispering next when the baby stirs at the dining table. âi hope that makes up for my 401K sir. i-i also work part time to save for college andâ!âÂ
âhaha â no i wasnât!â the younger gojo girl tenses in place, elbowing her date in the ribs not so discretely from under the table. itâs this interaction that makes her father smile, only briefly, before you scowl his way.
âi thought you told them we met at a tutoring session.âÂ
âyou were failing?â you raise a brow, taking your own seat beside her father.Â
âsee! this boy failure is a bad influence on our daughter!â a glare settles on the slopes of satoruâs angelic features, mirrored by your childâs unimpressed expression across the table. in his arms, your youngest fusses about as if he senses the mounting tension at the table â earning a bounce or two from daddy, who turns your way all matter-of-factly like. âsee, this why he doesnât have a 401Kâ
âwhy would a teenager have a 401k, satoru!â comes your exasperated sigh.
âi had one when i was his age.â satoru shoots back and the kid sinks nervously in his seat. the poor boy looks as though he wants to disappear, squirming in place like heâs no better than a worm on a bait hook â itâs torture being interrogated and inspected by someone so close to the person you love most, but even he knows how important satoruâs approval is to your daughter.
she wouldnât say it now, not when she was all grown up and finding her way out in the world â but she idolised gojo, all of her fondest memories are painted in his colours. shades of sapphire and azure like his vivid eyes, snowy white from his hair that almost rivals the clouds in the sky â the backdrop to days spent riding her fatherâs shoulders through the big wide world, racing down grassy green hills and wasting the hours away. she wouldnât admit it here, today, but she never wanted to leave those memories. leave her father behind in her youth â it was written on each dip and curve and highlight on her youthful face, she wanted her father to move into this next phase of life with her too.
âdaddy, you were a trust fund baby with shit grades and no prospects until you met mum,â she huffs but her words hold no malice, even if the sass brims over the edge of her tone like an emotionally charged, overflowing glass of water. youâd chide her for cursing â but you know she means well, stubbornly expressing her desire for approval to her man child of a father. âa loser, if you will.âÂ
gojo slumps, the rosey petals of his plump lips pushing into an age old pout. âhow could you say that about dear old dad?â he whines, as though heâs a wounded animal.Â
âwell sheâs not wrong, baby. you were a loser satoru, you still are.â the words are fond and light hearted on your tongue, a similar state to the wisps of a smile that trace over your own lips. leaning in close, you tickle the nose of the gurgling baby boy in his arms, heart heavy with affection â grateful that the one interaction you had with your husband all those years ago ( when he was a scrapier and misunderstood ) led you both to the beautiful chaotic family you have together now. âa hot one at least.âÂ
âgross.â your daughter groans and buries her embarrassed gaze in the spread of food on the neatly laid table â grabbing a plate and piling it high to cope.
her boyfriend chuckles nervously, wanting nothing more but to eat and do the same. desperate to hide from gojoâs intimidating aura, but too afraid to cross another one of his ridiculous invisible lines. âi think thatâs very sweet mrs gojo!â
the brief moment of peace in the war of dad v boyfriend is then interrupted by the white haired manâs temper tantrum, realising that his only daughter is still in the room. âdonât push it kid.â the father of your children all but wails and finds something else about the young couple to pick apart. âyouâre sitting too close together! move apart!âÂ
âdaddyâ!â
âw-what?â
âi said move it or lose it kid, before i keel over and die of heartbreak.â âbetrayal. my own daughter, leaving me for someone else.âÂ
the two separate, shifting their chairs away from one another despite never actually being too close. you share an empathetic look with your eldest, empathetic to your husbandâs actions. you both knew he wouldnât handle the meeting well, but this was beyond your whilst dreams. the young coupleâs hands remain intertwined under the table cloth as the meal begins properly, and when satoru notices, he doesnât comment â biting down hard on his unhappy tongue. he knows all too well what itâs like to love against the odds, his father in law hardly wanted him around you. itâs not like he wasnât aware how bad he was for you, how your standards might have even dropped for the man to be with him. but you loved satoru with your entire being, wholly and against all of your own parentâs wishes.Â
in a way, the dinner tonight reminds him of himself meeting your father for the first time â how he had to work for his approval too. prove that he was more than just a spoilt brat. too caught up in the memories, the odd sense of loss threaded between his every breath and the love he holds for his daughter settled in his lungs â gojo almost kissed the way you whisper to him adoringly, head drooping to rest on his shoulder mostly to look at your baby but partly to comfort him. âyouâre being dramatic satoru. look at them, donât you just love young love.âÂ
and he does, he looks, really looks â softly staring across the table and through the haze of his own judgement, noticing how happy his little girl looks all wrapped up with her boyfriend. all heâs ever wanted is to keep her smiling, give her a life that his parents couldnât give him, he feels all of his resentment and fear or losing his daughter melt away like a plain sheet of paper dissolving in water. he loves her too much to not let her be happy, his baby. his little girl.Â
âno, not at all,â satoru finally relents with a wobbling voice and silvery tears that dot his vision â shaking his head back and forth to stop them from dropping onto his sleeping son gathered in his arms. âw-why would you say that? god, is it allergy season? my eyes are killing me. theyâre not cute at all, why would you say that iâm crying?âÂ
your teenage daughter glances over, relief evident in all of her identical gojo features. âno one mentioned you crying, daddy.â she coos softly in an attempt to console satoru.
it doesnât work, he starts dry heaving and sobbing. which is new for her, he hasnât cried this hard since her baby brother was born.
the kid scrambles into his pocket and damn near stumbles over the table in order to hand your white haired lover a tissue. âi donât think youâre crying sir!âÂ
âshut up!â gojo sniffles dramatically, putting on his best theatre kid act and drapes himself ( and the baby ) all over you. âshit, is this cushioned tissue? three ply?â pale, deft fingers swipe at the blue pools of eyes which well with tears while the kid nods over enthusiastically â desperate to please his girlfriendâs guardian. âgood stuff this is⊠but this doesnât mean i approve of you for my daughter!â
âgojo!âÂ
âwhaaaaat!? he doesnât have a 401K!â
áŻâ
RYOMEN SUKUNA:
if youâd told sukuna, almost a decade and a half ago, that he would end up with a life shrouded in domestic bliss â he would have laughed in your face. maybe even called you a cunt whilst telling you to fuck off. back then, when he was younger and the spirit of ambitious fire burned brightly in his veins as though he had petroleum for blood, the pink haired man never dreamed of settling down. buying a house. getting married. or having kids.
he was as untameable as a wild horse, with only one goal in mind. to open up his restaurant and get his family out of that shithole town by all and any means. heâd cross whatever rivers he had to, climb whatever mountains he needed to â push past societal hurdles that judged him for the pink in his hair and the thick ink on his body. ryomen sukuna did not care. not about anyone else, only about his goals.
at least, until he met you.Â
in many ways, you were a blessing to the world where sukuna was a curse. his complete opposite, the day to his night. though the worlds and lives you came from were completely different âÂ
nowadays, the man is a little softer around the edges and weaker in the heart â they say thatâs what true love does to you.
a set of keys jingle at the front door, followed by the dull thud of trainers on the shoe rack and footsteps on the mahogany wood floor. sukuna hardly looks up from the article heâs reading â something about the best recipes for autumnal vegetables. who would have thought, ryomen sukuna, reading up on gardening. he would tell anyone who asked it was for his restaurant, not because he actually enjoyed it. would make him look soft.Â
âhey, iâm home!â the voice that calls to him is sweet and youthful, a dulcet symphony that tugs paternally at the pink haired manâs heart strings. âis ma here?âÂ
sukuna smiles to himself behind the newspaper, inhaling its fresh ink scent. âin the kitchen, workinâ,â he replies absentmindedly, listening to his daughter skid down the hall after dropping her backpack. âoi squirt, you ainât slick. you know what day it is, report card. now.âÂ
thereâs a dramatic sigh that follows footsteps trailing back into the living room. sukunaâs daughter, his pride and joy clings onto the doorframe with a scowl that could very well rival his own, ruby red eyes twinkling with annoyance â sheâs in a rush to chat with her mother after school, he knows, but he canât help but to tease her just a bit. âsâin my bag, can i go now?â she whines impatiently but takes off at the first gentle nod from her father in reply.Â
but the pink haired parentâs peaceful evening is quickly turned upside down at the discovery he makes in the bottom of his pride and joyâs bag. no matter how much time has passed, how many decades have gone by in which heâs been a father â nothing could prepare him for this new challenge, the new wave of emotions that come with having a tween daughter and swirl hotly in his chest.
âwhat the fuck is this?â he announces with a foul snarl, slipping into the kitchen where his girls chitchat idly over a test batch of cookies sukuna had made earlier in the day. for his restaurant of course. not because heâs a doting husband or loving father. heâs got an image to uphold and itâs not one of domestic bliss.Â
his daughter chirps, not looking up from the sweet treat she picks apart and pops into her mouth â seated on the kitchen island while you work away on your laptop. âwhatâs what, daddy?â her innocent nonchalance about the older sukunaâs discovery almost makes him pop a vein. âalso, ma told you to stop saying the f-word. so, swear jar.â
the hulking man with the contrastingly soft pink pokes his tongue into the soft epithelium of his cheek, his jaw ticks and a playful frustration tingles throughout all four of his limbs. the swear jar was something youâd brought into play as soon as [daughter name] had learned how to talk, afraid that your rough and rugged husbandâs potty mouth would rub off on her young impressionable mind. every time a cursed word falls from between ryomen sukunaâs lips, a couple hundred yen is popped into the jar as punishment. the thing was practically full by your babyâs third birthday, so youâve been putting it down as her college fund ever since.
paper rustles between deft and tattooed fingers as sukuna reveals not a report card, but a crinkled note like the kind passed back and forth between distracted kids in the middle of that one class before lunch. âdonât play dumb with me, squirt.â ryomen holds the note up to the light so that both of his girls can see, blood diamond eyes squinting so he can inspect it better. somebody get this guy his glasses. ââdo you want to go out with me? tick for yes, cross for no.ââ he reads out loud, each word leaving a bitter taste on his tongue, his frown so deep that lines of disapproval form on his well-aged face.
thoughts of the once all-important report card vanish into thin air, the relaxed aura in the room replaced with a palatable tension that not even your husbandâs finest knives could cut. your precious baby girl shoots up from the counter to scramble with her dad over the note in hand. he holds her back with a large palm to the forehead.
âoh my god! you werenât supposed to see that! daddy, give it here. please!â
âfat chance, squirt,â the tattooed man retorts. âyou passinâ notes in class? that why youâre hidinâ your report card?âÂ
âyou can have my report card, when you give that back!â
with the two standing side by side, the resemblance strikes you as clear as day. they share the same hair, same scowl and same rugged intonation to their voices. theyâre both yours, your entire world under one roof. before they can blow said root off, you stand between the elder and younger sukuna â turning to your husband with hooded eyes and a gentle hand on the centre of his broad chest. âoh ryo,â you coo in flirtation, slowing his train of thought as you sneakily swipe the crushed paper from his grip. âshut up ân let me see that.â
your daughter gags behind you at the display of affection, contrasting with the amused smirk you share with your long time lover. after all this time, marriage and the perfect kid, youâre still able to make a fool out of him â make sukunaâs heart skip a beat and a heat he refuses to acknowledge crawl up the back of his neck. heâs gone soft, for you and his family. for now, for you, he relents on taunting his precious little girl.Â
casting your gaze over the note, you grin at the pink-ink chicken scratch scribbled across the page. itâs sweet and endearing, reminding you of young love. âdid atsushi finally ask you out?â you ask tenderly, handing the paper back to your daughter who cuddles it to her chest like the physical version of a precious memory.Â
a bashful expression lines the contours of her face, seeping into features youâd recognise from your husband on her. sukuna would argue that she has the shape of your eyes and your beauty too â but all you see is a culmination of love. âma you were so totally right, playing hard to get really works!âÂ
she gushes dreamily over her crush like itâs puppy love, biting her lip and bouncing on the spot.Â
âlike a charm, every time.â comes your entertained response, much to your husbandâs dismay.
âyou werenât playinâ hard to get with meâŠâ sukuna questions rather than states, trying to piece together parts of the gossip that heâs missed. an anxiety corners the beat of his heart at the thought of his daughter dating, something in which the burly man never thought he would be afraid of. the world had been hard on sukuna; he only worries that itâs not as safe for his pride and joy as it were for him.  ânever mind that; the brat asked you out with a piece of paper? yâbetter not have said yes. we have standards here.âÂ
his words make you roll your eyes with the hint of a smile. ryomen almost reminding you of your own father around the time youâd met him.
your daughter scrunches her nose petulantly, gearing herself up for a witty reply. âwell ma married you, so her standards canât be that high.â she snaps, earning a stifled laugh from you and an unimpressed grunt from her hardheaded dad. âand no, i didnât. told him he needed to ask me out properly. face to face. with words. he said to meet him on the running track tomorrow at lunch for a surprise!â
pulling her into a hug, you kiss her round youthful cheek. âoh baby, i'm so happy for you!â
âwell i ainât! show me the damn kid, need to see what kind of pitiful brat wants to ask out my little girl,â sukuna crosses his arms and grumbles to himself, black ink tattoos flexing menacingly as he does so. almost as if heâs preparing to threaten the kid before even meeting him. âwhatever happened to askinâ for permission to court or whatever. he should have been on my doorstep asking for your hand.âÂ
âfirstly you would have said no, and secondly this isnât the olden days, dad. nobody does that anymore.â your cheeky daughter chides him loudly, her words slipping over her snarky little tongue. like father like daughter, the way they snip and snap at one another has an uncanny resemblance.
tilting your head upwards towards your fuming husband, you laugh breathlessly in a way that washes away his anger.âsheâs right ryo; though my dad hardly approved of you either.â you say softly. even now, you make him feel weak in the knees and dizzy in the mind, like heâs so anything for you. whoever dates his daughter should feel the same about her.
âi freakinâ earned it, didnât i?Â
âjust barely.â
sukuna huffs but settles a hand on your waist from behind and his head atop yours. he needs to soothe himself somehow, his daughter is growing too fast. âstop ganging up on me and lemme see the damn kid.âÂ
âhere, isnât he cute.âÂ
lips downturned, sukuna craned his neck to look at your daughterâs phone from over your shoulder â scrutinising the instagram page that sheâs opened now offering the kid his only child has taken an interest in like a lamb at the slaughterhouse. âbrat looks like a noodle.â haughty laughter fills the kitchen, reverberating against the bones and organs in ryomenâs chest and buzzing right though your back. âyouâre right i woulda said no as soon as he fuckinâ turned up!âÂ
two sets of scolding eyes similar in shape, belonging to the two girls he loves the most swivel around to face the pink haired man disapprovingly.
âryomen sukuna!âÂ
âdaddy!â
âyeah yeah, i know. swear jar.â
áŻâ
SUGURU GETO:
âmy love, were you aware that our little munchkin has a boyfriend?â
suguru looks up from the bubbling pot of child friendly pasta sauce on the stove. if it were just the two of you having dinner tonight, like it was merely three (nearly four) years ago â he would have planned for a more adventurous meal. perhaps sought out a bottle of fine aged wine for you both to enjoy on the balcony and even gotten a dessert to sweeten the date in. but now, you both had more than two hungry tummies to worry about, and bottles of wine could only be purchased when the little one was off with her uncle satoru.
âno, i wasnt. i don't believe thatâs come up in discussion before,â your dark haired lover turns his narrow gaze to the giggly little girl swaddled in your arms â her chubby cheeks and dark, curious eyes just peeking out of the fluffy duck-themed towel youâve wrapped her in. bath time is usually after bed, but someone got into the paint pots at nursery school and managed to get blotches of blue streaked through her hair and under her fingernails. âcare to elaborate sweetheart?â
suguru taps the wooden sauce spoon against the side of the pot and swipes his hands on a nearby tea towel before allowing them to rest on his hips, look of faux irritation settling on the contours of his face and slopes of his features. thin brows draw together like closed gates in the middle of his forehead â the expression earning airy light and squealed laughter from your baby girl.
ânuh uhhh! not my boy-fend!â she babbles her way through the big girl word, missing a few syllables here and there, but geto still grins with pride â happily leaning forward to press enthusiastic kisses to his little angelâs damp forehead. âno boy-fend papa!
bouncing your daughter slightly, you cock your hip out to hold her weight and cheekily roll your eyes. âsuch a daddyâs girl, lying to him already? heâll let you get away with anything if you keep that up,â though you muster up a pout to rival the toddlerâs, the uncanny resemblance warming the cockles or your husbandâs heart, your tone is playful and adoring â itâs lilt full of love for the baby girl you made together. you pinch her chubby cheek, waggling it from side to side as more of her childlike laughter tangles with the scent of pasta in the air. âwe bumped into the fujioka boy and his mother at the gates this morning, he held her hand all the way up to the classroom. it was quite cute. you had to be there, love.âÂ
âiâm sure,â he responds, gentle mirth and protectiveness swirling in dark framed eyes.
you relay the information to your husband as though itâs hot gossip fresh from the press, whispering over your dark-haired daughterâs head not so secretly. even with the hair and eyes to match suguruâs, sheâs still just as much your carbon copy as she is his â he tends to say all of her spirit comes from you, not to mention the way she laughs and smiles.
shaking her head between you, both â your baby chimes in brightly. ânoooo mama!! boys are gross, i donâ hold hands with boys.â
this time suguru manoeuvres to pinch her other chubby cheek, clicking his tongue as he does so. ânot even papa?â he pretends to pout, crouching down with his hands on his knees to coo into her sweet little face.Â
ânuhhh, papa isnât gross!! papa is my favourite boy!â she quickly tacks on with a dribbly smile.
âthatâs right. iâll be the only boy in your life always, just you and i princess,â your husband reaffirms with a firm shake of his head and presses a promise in the form of a kiss to your daughterâs nose. her chubby little hands, still wet from bath time, smack either side of suguruâs face and keep him close â close enough for her to plant a soggy smooch onto his forehead affectionately. a wet kiss only a father could love. âthat settles it, iâm no longer sharing my kisses. papa says no boyfriends until youâre ninety.â
once your two loves are done sharing their candied affections, you seat your daughter on the edge of the kitchen table to allow geto the room to finish up with dinner. the comforting symphony of baby babbles and kitchen utensils clanking and food boiling fills the steamy air, it makes you smile. it feels like home. âoh come on suguru, theyâre only three. donât you think itâs the tiniest bit adorable?â you say with a sing-songy voice, entertaining both your little one and her father.âthey even share their animal crackers during break time and crayons when itâs time to colour, one of the supervisors told me.â
with his back now to you as he stirs through the pasta sauce one final time, you hardly miss the way suguruâs shoulders tense at the mention of the little boy your girl has taken a liking to. he wouldnât dare frown about it in front of her, what upsets daddy upsets baby too. thatâs why heâs always smiling for her, and you find the manâs subtle jealousy endearing. itâs always supposed to be suguru and his princess, with no room for anyone else ( aside from you, of course )Â
ânope, no boyfriends. no amount of cuteness can convince me otherwise.â voice falling tight and flat, suguru reaches into the cupboards for plates and bowls to dish up his lovingly prepared home cooked meal, slamming them into place at the table with a little less patience than before.Â
the idea of some⊠little boy chasing after his daughterâs heart? over his dead body.
âboy-fends are gross!â but your daughter is forever a daddyâs girl, furrowing her brow and crossing her tiny arms in an act of defiance â supporting her papaâs cause. boyfriends are bad!Â
fuelling her excitement and even more support for papa â food is served shortly by your husband, who plates up as best as he can with toddler safe dinnerware. you adjust your little girl into her high chair at the table, giggling to yourself softly when she cranes her neck to keep an eye on suguru. âdoes that mean papaâs gross? heâs technically mamaâs boyfriend.â
âhusband, love, thereâs a difference.âÂ
three plates of hot, aromatic spaghetti are organised in a table â each a domestic reminder of the family suguru geto has been blessed with. in that moment, he thinks he would be happy if he spent the rest of his life as just the three of you. briefly his mind wonders to setting a fourth place at the table in a decade or soâs time, once his daughter truly is old enough to date. the very thought makes him feel ill.Â
round, doe eyes dart between you and suguru as you take your seats either side of your darling daughter at the table â she mimics you both with fumbling little fingers that reach for her baby fork and concentrates as she attempts to repeat your husbandâs words. âcan i have a husbsband-love?â
you laugh and kiss her cheek, helping her to gather a bite of pasta on the full end of her fork. âhusband. just husband, my love. make sure you blow on your food please!â she follows your instructions with a comical air, cheeks puffing and breath huffing while you explain why her father is a second away from blowing his top. âgood girl. husbandâs arenât for babies, baby. and i think papa might not like it if you got one now.â
âif you got one ever!â suguru interjects, eyes narrowing while he fights with his lips to avoid a scowl. âthe answer is still no, princess. no husbands and no boyfriends until papa is old, cold and in the ground.âÂ
now that your hands are free, you grab the nearest tea towel and wind it up in your grip â launching its tail end at geto as though to swat at him. he jumps in surprise and your daughter shrieks in amusement as she begins babbling again. âdon worry, papa!. fujioka is no my boy-fend!!â she says over food in her mouth and happy tummy. geto wipes over her face again. sheâll definitely need another bath later. âhasegawa is!!â
the pair of you share a look and this time, you really think suguru might just throw in the towel.Â
how could he compete with pre-school love and paint pots shared over playtime gossip?Â
âtwo boyfriends? oh god, love⊠i think need some air.â
ê°Â end. â all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.
#tteokdoroki#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#gojo fluff#jjk x fluff#jjk x you#gojo x you#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna fluff#sukuna smut#sukuna headcanons#gojo headcanons#gojo smut#geto x reader#geto x you#geto fluff#geto headcanons#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#⧠âËà© â writing
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COME PUT THAT MILLIâ
N Dâ
LLAR PU$$Y ON ME, MAKE ME RICH!
FARMHAND!TOJI X BIMBOBUNNY!READER
⌠summary: au. a quiet farm life and a young pretty thingâwhat more could an ex-con want? you're a bit of a brat, but that can be fixed too. ⌠wc: 4.0k ⌠cw: age gap, panty flashing, voyeurism, brat!reader, fantasizing, spit play, biting, hickies, breeding kink, olfactophilia, teasing, perverted toji, morally ambiguous toji, creampies, squirting, unprotected, pet names: Bunny and standard p in v stuff. ⌠a/n: idk y'all farmhand!toji possessed my mind. literally did this all in tumblr drafts again today. Lets see if tumblr actually lets me post this or cucks me again.
FarmHand!Toji who only got the job in the first place because of a prison rehabilitation program. It was either work on a farm or rot in a cell for another 2 years.
Toji chose the farm.
The work wasn't easy, but Toji couldn't complain. It was a very large farm, secluded and he was paid wellâbut most importantly?
It kept his fuckin' P.O. off his back.
Toji works on the farm for three grueling months until you, the farmer's niece, arrives for the summer to also work.
Well, 'work' wasn't really the right word, because you never did any thing of the sort.
Barely, 19 and kicked out of your house for smoking pot. Your parents sent you to your uncle, hoping the hard work and the ex-cons he had working for him would scare you straight. Additionally, due to the fact your Uncle had no wife and no kids, the sole owner of a large farm, the old bastard was pretty well off. As the only child of your dad, his only sibling, farm would eventually be left to you.
Everyone (not like you had a say) agreed you should know how to run it.
But the thing isâyou suck at everything.
You're too flighty to work with the chickens, too prissy clean the pig cages and you'd complain you'd break a nail just from lifting an empty bucketâso milking cows were also out of the question.
Yet you still managed to get your work done.
Precisely cause you weren't the one doing it.
Aware of your youthful looks and charms, you don't hesitate to use them to your advantage.
Your shapely curves are always clad in some in a thin wispy dress, which would turn damn near see-through at the smallest bit of moisture. Wearing no bra and the tiniest of panties, you were always giving a show.
No you weren't scared of these ex-cons in the least bit.
Evident by the way you flounce around the farm, unabashfully, pretending to do the chores the women-starved prisoners were too eager to do for you.
For their efforts you reward them with smiles, blown kisses and sugary words. Sometimes for rewards came in the form of a peach you would sneak them from your uncle's grove.
Always bringing one for yourself you'd sensually bite into the ripen fruit. Allowing its juices to linger on your cherry-glossed lips and dribble down your chinâthe slurping noises are the perfect fapping fodder for them.
Yet the best prize of allâand only if you were feeling particularly generousâa flash of panties.
Toji though had not fallen for your charms though.
Not that he wasn't susceptible to them, hell nawâhe wanted to bend your pretty ass over the nearest fence and roughly fuck some decency, along with manners into your haughty lil' cunt.
But Toji, as well as any of the prisoners, knew better than to touch you. Not only were they risking their freedom, with even the slightest offense here was enough to send them back to the penâthey were also risking their lives.
Your uncle was no fool. The older man regularly carried a sawed off shotgun slung over his shoulder, which used to be a pistol before you arrived.
The farmer didn't make it a big announcement, simply reminding them it was prison or a grave if they fucked this opportunity upâbut the underlying message was crystal clear:
He'd blow anyone to hell who even thought about touching his niece.
Oh, but Toji did think about touching youâalot.
Often staying up late in his shared bunk roomâjerking his cock to a frilly pair of panties of yours he'd stolen off the laundry lineâonce he was sure the others had gone to bed.
Toji wants to teach you a lesson badly.
Not for your benefit though, it be payback for all your goddamn teasing.
Toji isn't a pushover for you.
Nicknaming you 'Bunny' since you were such a clumsy lil ditz. He often made his silly lil bunny do whatever work he was stationed at when you had chores thereâyours and his.
And oh, you hated that. You only tried harder when none of your pouts, provocations and seductions move him. It was pure hell, but Toji had resisted every trick you had. An unintended benefit however, was that he'd likely seen every pair of panties you owned by now (which is why he had stolen his favorite).
At one point, when you were particularly annoying one day, Toji even tried straight up ignoring you.
Yet that didn't work either.
You only upped the ante, 'accidentally' spilling a whole bucket of cow's milk on yourself. The very color of your perky nips are clearly visible, poking through the now transparent fabric which clings to you like second skin.
Staring Toji dead in his eyes, a coy smile on your plump lips as your pink manicured nails rubbed circles over your soaked nubs.
It took everything Toji had in him that day not to force you down to the dirt floor, fucking your pussy open just as hard and flithy as you'd been asking for.
Turning away from you, he threw a hay laden blanket over you and told you to go back up to the house n' clean up.
Toji didn't miss how badly you pouted, even though he pretended not to care. You reluctantly listened to him, leaving the barn and back to the main house up the hill.
You were both playing with fire.
Yet from that point something broke in Toji.
He still never crosses the line to touching you, but he'd starts pushing your buttons.
He wants to rile you up just as you had him.
As a result, Toji is working around you without a shirt more oftenâsometimes even with a raging hard on in full view. Also he doesn't hold back any longer from any of the vulgar thoughts of you that cross his mind. Regularly vocalizing them with a smirk, making overtly perverted comments towards you.
This was even something the other prisoners were too pussy to do to, given the very real threats of your farmer uncle.
Yet Toji wouldn't be a two-time ex-con he is if he didn't mind gambling with his life for a big reward. Toji relishes in your flustered, indignant reactions, loving to see how your face heats up everytime without fail every time he teases his lil' slut, his sultry voice whispering things like:
"I bet y'er cunt is riper than those peaches, Bunny."
"Bunnyâthink your pretty pussy can squirt more milk than these cow udders?"
"I wonder if my lil' Bunny can actually ride dick, since she's not half bad on a horse?"
You'd call him a 'perverted old man' like you weren't anything more than just a causal cocktease yourselfâobviously you get some sick satisfaction knowing you had every man on this farm but Toji at your beck and call.
In reality, you were just as twisted in nature as him.
Still you were stubborn.
And as retaliation for his resistance, you play all manners of pranks on Toji. Doing anything you could so it was harder for him to do his jobâfrom stealing his work gloves, boots and toolsâto more serious ones like letting a weasel loose in the chicken coop when it was his shift to collect the eggs.
You deemed it your right to punish him for teasing you, for not becoming one of your simps and most fiendish of all?
Making you actually do work.
You harass him so often, it's not long before Toji realizes you're seeking him out intentionally.
Not even bothering to visit the other workstations where your chores are, they would get done by your lil'fan boys regardless, in favor of following him around all day like a lost lil' chick.
On a particularly hot n' sweltering summer day, Toji is stuck with the job of moving machinery from one side of the farm to the other when the sun is at its highest.
Like usual, he's since removed his sweat-drenched work shirtâremaining only in unhooked overalls and his briefs.
Toji hasn't seen you though, which isn't surprising given how broiling it is outside. Someone with as delicate a disposition as you, who also happened to be as manipulative, probably convinced your uncle to let you laze around inside the house, away from the heatâand Toji.
But you were a needy little thing, always seeking attention. Toji occupies his thoughts for most of the morning imagining you growing so bored, not having him to harass and all day.
With idle hands and absolutely nothing else to do, you'd start playing with that plump lil' pussy of yours, wouldn't you?
A supple girl like you had to overflow like a dam. Toji would bet money you'd already be wet enough, even untouched, to drench his fingersâjust from palming your ripe pussy in his hand.
He wouldn't mind taking more than a sip of you on a miserable day like this to quench his thirst.
Continuing his work (and lewd thoughts of you) until his break, Toji discovers he's misplaced his work shirt.
Searching for it in the heat proves annoyingâit's not on the grazing pasture fences, nor in the workshed by the machines. Tsk, he swore he had taken it with him to his last station near the horses.
Passing by the cow barn, Toji hasn't had a shift in there today but he absentmindedly remembers there's was a water hose in there. He could at least cool off for the remainder of his breakâmaybe even rub one out to you.
However, upon sliding open the Toji's smirk grows almost bigger than the hefty cock in his pants.
Looks like he hit the jackpot, today.
There you were in the middle the of the barn, on your back in the hay, thin dress bunched up past your hips and panties dangling off one of your shapely legsâall while feverishly fingering your fat wet lil' cunt.
You salaciously had even dripped a dark sizeable puddle on the dusty floor beneath you.
But the cherry on top?
You're quite shamelessly moaning out cries of his name, uncaring of who could happen to passby and hear you.
'T-Toji!'
'T-Toji, fuck me harder, Daddy!'
All while your pretty angelic face is twisted in pleasure, eyes closed and nose buried deep in the fabric of his soiled work shirt.
Daddy? Oh how fucking filthy of youâGod you were perfect slut, just his fuckin' type.
Solely focused on cumming, your hips thrust up desperately to meet your fingers as he stalks closer to youâlooking every bit of the predatory ex-convict he is.
"Well, well look at what we got ourselves here doll....n'here I thought the only degenerates on this farm were us prisoners?"
Your eyes widen in shock, but you don't stop your fingers right away. You were so close to your release before Toji suddenly appeared in front of you, there's no way you could physically stop chasing it now.
Not when it only takes a lingering glance at his dark features, muscular tanned sweat slick body, and the painfully obvious way his dick jumps in his pants to have you falling over the edge. You gush, mewling as you cream around your delicate lil' fingers.
"You've been a very naughty lil' bunny..."
Sheepishly pulling them out, covered in your slick, Toji's eyes zero in on the way your hole still gapes open. You're cunt quite literally throbbing for more, you'd cum but she's still left unsated.
You clearly needed something much bigger and harder than your flimsy little digits.
You unconsciously back up deeper into the bushels of hay around, putting distance between you as Toji gets closer.
"Tsk, tsk, nuh-uh Bunny, none of that shit. Not when I just caught you being such a whore for me."
You gulp, your heart racing as he crouches over you. Toji removes his work gloves, discarding them as he forces you to lay back on the soft hay.
âHow sweet of you to prep yourself for me babydoll. But, Bunny, you dumb little girl, youâre too careless. What if it wasnât me who walked in 'ere and saw you playing with my pussy?â
You didn't think of that, when you had so brazenly snuck up without him noticing to nab his work shirt.
Initially, you wanted to just be annoying to him again, too bored of being in the house all morning. At first you recoiled when you touched his soggy shirt, yet that all flipped once you caught of whiff of his scent.
Toji smelled of a farm but somehow that smell mixed with sweat, musk and notes of his aftershave hit you straight in your cunt. Your panties becoming just as drenched as the shirt in your hands.
You didn't realize Toji, grimy from farm work, could still smell so good.
Knowing it was far past the time for anyone to come milk cows, you headed straight to that barn. You just wanted some alone time, where you'd be free to touch yourself while thinking of the ridiculously sexy ex-con farmhand.
To say Toji had been plaguing your thoughts and dreams for the past few weeks would have been a massive understatement. You were obsessed with him. Him and his irritatingly smug expression, accentuated by his scar that made him appear all the more dangerousâyou wanted him to fuck youâyour uncles warnings be damned.
"You tryna get me to do more time, girl? Ya know Bunny, I'd kill anyone who touched you, if your uncle didn't get to 'em first."
Your face is hot with embarrassment but your cunt is also burning upâthinking you might die if he doesnât actually touch you soon.
Letting his coveralls drop unceremoniously to the floor, he shrugs off his remaining clothes.
Toji's calloused hands, smudged with oil and grime, grab your hips and yank you to him. You yelp and his cock twitches even harder at your cute lil noises, smearing pre on your already soaked thighs.
Toji presses his sweaty body onto yours. It's cool in the barn but Toji's heat is so intense you feel like you are out in the sun again. Having him on top of you like this finally is overwhelming your senses. Toji is intoxicating and you're so feral with need for him it makes you dizzier than a heatstroke.
Fuck, you looked so ready for him.
He'd love you take his time to really break you inâmake you fall apart until he's screwed every word out of your head but his own name.
Tchâbut there's about 10 more minutes left of his breakâand a good 15 or so more after that before anyone notices he's not where he should be.
Toji would reluctantly have to make this quick. Snatching your dress off overhead, he tosses it across the barn.
Mouth latching to one of your stiffened nipples, Toji simultaneously bullies his cockhead past your entrance, sinking into your slippery cunt.
Both of your collective groans fill the barn.
Goddamn, you're fuckin' tight.
Your eyes go wide and moisture pricks your vision as the sting of his girthy cock splitting you open nearly brakes you. You weren't a virgin by any means, and you knew Toji was hugeâbut shitâit was way bigger in thickness and length than you could have imagined.
Toji has to physically take your legs and wrap them around his body so they stop convulsing.
You whine for him to wait a moment but he couldn'tâhe didn't have the time.
Toji cups your face, unintentionally smearing dirt across your warm pristine lil' cheek.
"Daddy doesn't have time to wait for ya Bunny, can't get caught by y'er mean ole uncle, yeah?"
"*sniffs* I-I know, b-butâ"
"No buts, babyâyou want me to fuck ya, rite? Then just lay back and be good dollâpromise I'll make ya feel good, eh?"
You can't stop the tears that roll down your cheeks, the burning still evident in your cunt as your walls spasm around him. Toji nuzzles your neck, grunts fanning across your sweetly scented skin as he begins moving his hips.
Soon the sounds of wet flesh smacking, resound in the barn with every harsh thrust of Toji's broad hips. The sloppy squelching noises your pussy cries out has Toji feeling like she's talking directly to him.
Sweat drips off his brow and onto your face as he pulls back a bit to see just how well your slutty lil' hole is globbling him right upâyou already frothing a ring of cream around his base like such a good girlâlike you were made to take his dick.
Your teeth bite into his shoulder and your nails rake red streaks across his back when his fat cockhead brushes against your g-spot.
Instantly, the shocks vibrating in your cunt overtake any remaining discomfort from your pussy accommodating his massive cock. Your tiddies bounce violently whe he picks up speed rocking into your cuntâspurred on by your cute bites gnawing into him.
Toji would mark you up similarly.
God you were so fuckin' wet though, milking him so well.
For all the trouble you gave him your lil' pussy was obedient as hell once she got a lil' dick in her.
"T-Tojiiiii, puh-leaseee k-kiss me, Daddy!"
Slurring, you gaze up at him, eyes blown out in pleasure begging for more of himâfor anything he'd give you.
"Yeah, baby, Bunny wants Daddy to kiss her, hm?"
You frantically nod, your whole body is tingling. You just want to feel him consume you completely, all parts of you.
"Heh, of course I'll kiss my lil' bunnyâonly if ya let me cum yaâm-motherfuckâya know how long its been since I had pussy this good doll? Gotta cum in 'er."
Mewling under him, you're easily left at his mercyâyet Toji would show you none, devouring you just as greedily as you wanted him to. Your body responds so well to his praises, so needy for them and Toji doesn't mind indulging you when you're being this sweet for him.
Throwing your legs onto his shoulders, Toji raises your ass off the hay onto his knees as he folds your body in halfâfucking into you deeper, abusing your cervix as he smashed his lips onto yours.
Truthfully, there's no way in hell Toji would pull out now.
Making the decision for you, the kiss Toji gives you is searing hot. Sucking on your tongue, Toji has you melting you completely under him, your pussy clamping harder around him. His deviant tongue and heavy cock fucking you into submission.
Hell, she was begging him to cum in her even if you weren't or couldn'tâyou looked absolutely goneâlike not even the smallest thought lived in your fucked out lil' head.
Even when Toji pulls back to allow you air his lips never leave yours, biting your kiss swollen bottom lip almost to the point of drawing blood.
You tighten even more than Toji thought possible in the moment once he forced your mouth open and spits into it and your instantly swallowing itâsticking your tongue out for more.
Oh? Bunny becomes such a dirty whore once you're fucking her silly, eh?
Toji wonders what else of his you'd swallow. He'd save that for next time though.
For now Toji had to finish you, he was running out of time. Besides, he was speaking true earlier, he really hadn't had good pussyâpussy at allâin literal fuckin' years. Toji didn't think he could last much longer in a hole with as much wet suction as yours, even if he did have more time.
Slipping a hand between your slick bodies, Toji is now furiously thumbing circles on your sensitive clit.
"C'mon, Bunny baby, cum for Daddy, yeah? Squirt on this dick, just like you did your fingers earlier, doll."
Your body, utterly under the spell of his engorged cock which was currently digging into your kidneys, can't do anything but obey him.
Tumbling over your peak, you do as he asks, splashing fluids onto his pelvis, abs and chest with how much squirt he has gushing out of you.
Your head lulls back and Toji has to clasp his hand over your mouth from how loud you started screaming.
His own release follows soon after. Pumping his extra-thick load, all built up and saved over the years for a pussy as sweet as yours, into your well-fucked-open cunt.
Curses and swears pour out of Toji's mouth as remains side you, still pistoning in you with fervor through both your orgasms. Toji doesn't leave the snug warmth of your gooey core until you squeezed out every single drop he had to give you.
Pulling out, Toji immediately rolls over next to you as not to crush you further. Yet, like a magnet, his needy lil' bunny is curling up against his side, a sleepy sated expression on your angelic face.
Toji hated to leave, but he had to haul ass now if he wasn't gonna get caught.
A crude form of aftercare, but Toji hoses the both of you down.
The cold water snapping you from your lethargic afterglow immediately as you pouted and whinedâthe brat in you almost instantly returning.
But Toji couldn't just let you sleep ass naked, covered in his cum in the hay for your uncle to find you or worseâanother prisoner to find you.
Toji was serious. He really would kill someone if they tried anything with you, he'd taken many innocent lives before as a former hitmanâhe had no qualms killing some no good convicts.
Setting you upright, Toji finds your dress in the hay and puts it on you. It's soiled and dusty but he straightens it enough so you're at least halfway presentable.
Toji knows you're clever enough to think of a lie if questioned further.
Although, you'd better back to the main house quickly, in case those hickies he gave you start showing up. Toji smirks to himself.
Sending you on your way with quick sloppy kiss and a firm smack on the ass, he lets you leave first.
After waiting a few minutes, Toji exits the barn, grinning devilishly upon seeing you.
You're halfway back up the hill to the house by now, but you still steal glances back at him every few paces. Still panting, you're too shy now to meet his own eyes for longer than a second with your coy smiles.
Toji chuckles.
He had you hooked.
Hah, a slut like you? You'd probably be begging for his cock all throughout the day from now on.
However, Toji knows if he keeps fucking you like this he'll soon get you pregnant.
But ya know? That might not be half bad though.
This simple farm life had been a nice change of pace.
And who wouldn't want a young n' tender cunt like yours to dump in daily? Toji would keep you stuffed full, belly round with his kids and soft tiddies full of milkâfor his consumption only.
Toji muses once he had finished fucking the brat out of you, Bunny, you'd become the perfect lil' wifey.
It be good for Megumi to have a mom again and some siblings to keep em busy. Toji would finally have a decent place to raise him too, away from the city and his toxic as fuck family who'd Megumi had been with since the first time his dad got locked in the slammer.
Not to mentionâthe farm was a perfect cover for his con activities that he couldn't wait to back start up.
He'd only able to do so much with the burner phone Shiu smuggled-in for him, concealing in a shipment of animal feed.
Heh.
All Toji needed now was to knock you up, apply pressure on your strict, God-fearing parents to agree to the marriage, and then orchestrate an 'untimely and unfortunate accident' for your uncle. Thereby leaving the farm and the substantial inheritance to youâand by proxyâto him.
Yeah, FarmHand!Toji planned to become Farmer!Toji real soon.
©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.
⌠a/n: y'all toji be making me write the most twisted nastiest things for him. i realize soft toji just don't do it for me like depraved toxic morally corrupt toji does, i really would let this man ruin my credit fr y'all, he can have it all.
i didn't expect to write this, all in a day but im at the beck and call of my main mans. otaku!gojo and nerd!gero lovers dun hurt me. taglist in reblogs.
⌠comments and reblogs appreciated âȘâȘâ€ïžâŹ
#âá°đđŸđđđ¶đÂąÏÏĐșŃ#âá°đđŸđđđ¶đÂąÏÏĐșŃâŃĐœÎ±Ń#toji fushiguro#toji smut#toji fushiguro smut#jjk x reader#toji x reader#toji x you#toji x y/n#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk x you#jjk smut#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#toji fushiguro x y/n#toji fushiguro x you#jjk x black reader#toji fushiguro x reader#jujutsu toji#toji fushiguro x black reader#daddy toji#toji x black reader#toji x fem reader#farm hand toji#farmhand!toji
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best kept secret
pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader
words: 6.7k
summary: In an attempt to keep your relationship secret, Joel agrees to a blind date set up by his best friend / your father. You don't take it well.
warnings: 18+ minors dni, pre-outbreak, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel is 36), secret relationship, angst, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, semi-public sex, car sex, creampie, some fluff; lmk if I missed anything!
a/n: so sorry it took me almost a month to post something new ffs - life got busy and my inspiration simultaneously disappeared. but we're back, baby! anyway, dbf!joel owns my ass, so here's my rendition of him. as always, ty to my baby @javisashtray for reading this over for me and helping me through the creative process <3
Joelâs bedroom window offers a perfect view of the sunrise; of shy, pink light creeping over treetops and the roof of your dadâs house across the street.
Itâs gorgeous â breathtaking, even â maybe because you can count on one hand the number of times youâve actually seen the crest of morning. Youâre far more privy to late nights and sleeping in as long as you can push it, never been one to be up with the lark, so to speak.
You donât mind the early wakeup call, though, not when itâs this: Joelâs head tucked between your thighs, his tongue rolling lazily over your clit, your eyes still adjusting to the light as he spreads you open for him.
Heâs humming against you, his coarse beard tickling soft skin, thumbs dug into muscle to hold you in place as your back bows reflexively off the mattress. He looks so sweet like this, so eager to please, staring up at you with blown pupils.
âCâmon baby,â he purrs. âJust gimme one before you go.â
Theyâre the first words heâs said all morning, the first thought thatâs necessitated utterance. His voice is hoarse and deep and drips honey-sweet at your core.Â
Even so, despite how badly you want to â because you always want Joelâs mouth on you â youâre not sure you can.Â
Because you need to get home before Denise next door leaves for her early shift. Before Susan a few houses down takes her dog out for a walk.
Before the neighborhood wakes and somebody sees you leaving Joel Millerâs house. Or worse, before your dad catches you slipping into the house in yesterdayâs clothes, your car in the driveway still cold.
But with another experimental flick of Joelâs tongue, you forget all that, a content little sigh slipping past your parted lips, betraying you.
Just one, you tell yourself, and then youâll head out.
âFuck, okay â yeah,â you breathe, twisting your fingers into the roots of his curls.
With your permission, he buries his nose in your mound. Licks at you again â with more purpose, this time. One long, drawn out lap followed by another. Â
Heâs so gentle with you, so careful, caressing your folds with his tongue like theyâre made of paper. Itâs a dizzying juxtaposition to the way he laid you down last night and fucked you, teeth scraping your neck and cock bruising your cervix.
Youâre still sore, your walls tender where he stretched them, but your pussy is drooling nonetheless, surely making a mess of the bedsheets underneath you.
Because youâre insatiable when it comes to Joel.Â
For the past few weeks, since the first time youâd found yourself in his bed, youâve craved him. Regardless of how sated heâs left you each and every time, youâve needed more.Â
Itâs dangerous and stupid and undeniably wrong, having a fling with your dadâs best-friend. But youâre finding it difficult to consider the morality of it all when just his tongue makes you come harder than any other manâs cock ever has.Â
That tongue, now dipping into your apex, drawing more slick out of you as his thumb finds your swollen clit â Itâs overwhelming how good it feels, how good he is at this.
Heâs bringing you to the edge languidly, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your silky flesh. Itâs like he doesnât want this to be over, needs to stretch the moment as far as itâll go, milk every last second before you slip from his grasp.
But itâs going to end soon; itâs inevitable with the way heâs laving your pussy, the crushed velvet of his tongue gliding through your folds so wet and warm. Your orgasm is building, and youâre powerless to stave it off any longer.
âJoel,â you warn, his name a high-pitched whine.Â
âShh, I know babygirl; itâs okay.âÂ
Two of his fingers hook at your entrance and push in, pacifying you as his thumb continues working your clit. âI got you. Let go for me, sweetheart.â
The soothe of his voice floods your senses like nitrous; renders your body loose and your head foggy. You come apart with a string of shattered breaths, eyes rolled back and fingers twisted into the duvet.
Joel talks you through it: thatâs it, pretty girl; so good for me; always so good for me, and though he sounds so far away, his words are the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.
The world comes back into view slowly. Air settles in your lungs. And you canât help but laugh at how fucked-out you feel when you peer down at Joel, his gaze already locked on you, expectantly.
âOkay?â he asks, rubbing at your inner thigh.
âYeah,â you exhale, corners of your lips pulling taut. âMore than okay.â
He smiles back at you. Props himself up with hands planted either side of you on the mattress and hovers over your feeble form.
âGood,â he whispers, dipping his head down to kiss your forehead, your nose, your mouth. He licks into you, letting you taste yourself on him â a little sweet, a little bitter â and his lips are so soft that you nearly melt. âDid so good, angel.âÂ
You want nothing more than to spend all day in this bed with him. Return the favor a few times over. Learn what he looks like in the afternoon sun against the backdrop of navy blue sheets. What he tastes like after his coffee rather than before.
âI donât want to leave,â you admit against his mouth and he frowns, taking one of your hands in his. He presses a kiss to each of your knuckles, one by one, his eyes never straying from yours.
âI donât want you to either, darlinâ. But you can come back tonight, yeah?â
Tonight. Hours away. A whole day between now and then. But itâll have to do.Â
âTonight,â you repeat. Solidify it.Â
You slink home just as the street lights dim.
The house is quiet when you enter, apart from the incessant ticking of the grandmother clock in the living room. It sets off a throbbing in your head, a dull pang right at the front of your skull that you massage with two fingers as you ascend the stairs.
You move cautiously up each step, wincing at every creak of old wood. It must take minutes to reach the second-floor landing, and then youâre tiptoeing past your fatherâs room, listening for signs of sleep behind the seal of his door. Sure enough, you catch it, a single, drawn-out snore, loud enough that you let your feet fall, shuffling the rest of the way to the bathroom across the hall.
You immediately crank the shower on, climbing in as soon as you see steam. Lathering your skin with citrus-scented body wash, the smell of sex washes off your body and down the drain.
The warm water soothes your sore muscles; bittersweet relief. You stand there until the stream grows icy, stepping out and toweling yourself off just as you hear the familiar blare of your dadâs alarm on the other side of the wall.
By the time youâve dressed and made your way downstairs, heâs already in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee with his back to you.Â
Sink empty, counters borderline sparkling, a coaster tucked under his warm mug â your father is a neat man. He does not take kindly to mess.
God forbid, anybody disrupt the sacred balance of his home; move something and forget to put it back, break something of his that should be kept intact.
âHey.â
âHey, kiddo,â he yawns. Turns to face you. âYou were up early. Heard the shower going.â
âCouldnât sleep,â you lie.
âSomething on your mind?â
Heat blooms across your chest and up your neck. Thereâs no way he knows â youâve been far too careful. Still, youâre on edge, and the question lodges itself between your ribs uncomfortably as you frantically search for an answer.
âUh, n-no,â you stutter. âJust work stuff, I guess.â
He seems to buy it, reaching for the percolator and re-filling his mug with a sigh, âJust gotta give it time. You only just started. Plus, itâs your first job out of school. They donât expect you to know it all right away.â
Itâs good advice, if not misguided. You nod as if youâre absorbing it, taking it straight to heart. As if your mind isnât preoccupied.
You grab a mug from the cabinet. Fill it with coffee and creamer. Perch yourself at the breakfast table and take a slow, steadying sip.
The caffeine has just about seeped into your bloodstream when-
-thereâs a knock at the door.
Your dad shoots you a puzzled look, one which you immediately return. Who could that be, so early on a Wednesday morning?
And when he pushes open the door to reveal none other than Joel, you just about fall out of your chair. Your nails absentmindedly dig into the wood of the table in an attempt to brace yourself.
âOh, buddy â hey! Come on in,â your dad says, patting him on the back as he steps over the threshold. âWasnât expecting you.â
You grasp the handle of your mug like a lifeline. For a fleeting moment, you worry the ceramic will shatter in your hands.
Joel is dressed â blue cotton t-shirt covering his broad back and the deep, red scratches you left there when you dug your nails into skin, your legs hiked over his hips and your face tucked into his chest.
The pair of boxers peeking over the waistband of his jeans are different from the ones you pulled off of him last night, the ones he shimmied back into before you slept cradled in his arms.
Heâs a different Joel here, now â your fatherâs friend, your neighbor â not the man who breaks you down with his tongue or the one who calls you his good girl while you take his entire, throbbing length.Â
No, this Joel, standing in your kitchen in the presence of your father, has never betrayed him. Hasnât tasted his friendâs daughter or felt the tight embrace of her wet, warm cunt around his cock. This Joel is reliable, honest, not one to do harm.
You do not desire this Joel, cannot. You must look at him with apathetic eyes. Must keep the boat of your longing at bay.Â
Easier said than done. Itâs as if your desire for him is a feral beast, fed by his touch and left starving in its wake. You feel like youâve just run a marathon, sweat beading at your collar as you not-so-subtly follow the subconscious flex of his hands, the bunching of fabric over his biceps.
His voice bounces off the backsplash, and your fingers tighten around the handle of your mug.
âYeah, I uh â I went to make myself coffee and realized I was out. Was hopinâ you might have some to spare?â
He canât be serious. He came over for coffee? He couldnât get some on the road?
âIâm afraid she took the last of it,â your dadâs eyes point to you, and you ignore the burn of Joelâs gaze when his follow.
âAhh,â he says. ââts okay. Iâll grab some on my way in.âÂ
His fingers taptaptap on the edge of the countertop, bottom lip tucked between his teeth like thereâs something else. Another reason he came here.
And then you spot it â your wallet, dark red leather, poking out the top of Joelâs back pocket.Â
You mustâve left it in his room before you hurried home. Somewhere amongst the mess of trinkets and trash on his dresser. You half-remember dropping it there last night as heâd kneeled in front of you and peppered kisses up the length of your leg.
Thankfully, your dad is oblivious as ever, giving Joel the perfect opportunity to inconspicuously slip you your wallet when he turns around and crosses the kitchen, placing his empty mug in the sink.Â
Joel sidesteps once, twice, extending his arm and snapping it back as soon as you have the wallet in your grasp.
Your father clears his throat. Spins to find Joel exactly where he was. âIâve been thinking,â he starts, wrestling a slice of bread out of the bag and dropping it into the toaster, âI gotta set you up with this co-worker of mine, Deb.â
Joel freezes. You watch as the color drains from his face and his large hand anxiously cards through dark curls. Youâre pretty sure you freeze too, breath caught somewhere in your throat until your dad turns to you and you remember to exhale.Â
âYou know Deb, right, honey?â he asks. You mentally flick through the rolodex of your dadâs coworkers.Â
Thereâs Leanne, tall redhead, hosted a potluck a few months back at which you tasted the worst mac & cheese youâve ever had. And Barbara from accounting, who he got into a heated argument with over who makes the best BBQ in the city. You only remember her name because he hadnât shut up about how wrong her opinion was for a full week.Â
This woman actually thinks the Smoke Shop has got better ribs than Louâs. I said to her, Barbara, your taste buds must be absolutely torched.
But Deb? You donât recall a Deb. Still, youâre pretty sure you hate her, just in hearing her name in this context.Â
You shake your head, no.Â
âWell, I guess you havenât seen her in a while. She was there that day I brought you into the office.â
âWhen I was ten?â you retort.Â
âYeah, I guess it was that long ago, huh?â
You shrug. He returns his attention to Joel. âAnyway, Deb â sheâs around your age, just got divorced about a year back, and sheâs a real nice woman. I think you two would really hit it off.â
âIs that so?â Joel replies. You swear his voice wavers. If your dad notices, he doesnât say anything.
âYouâll like her Joel, I promise. I mean, whenâs the last time you went out with a nice lady? Not since â what was her name â Jean? And if things were going well with her, Iâd hope youâd tell your old friend.â The toaster pops, and he retrieves his slice of toast. Grabs a butter knife from the utensil drawer. Â
âNo, I ainât seeing Jean,â Joel sighs. Flashes you an apologetic glance as your dad slathers his toast in artificial purple jam, blissfully unaware.
âWell, you gotta get back out there!âÂ
Joelâs gaze rolls to the ceiling. âI donât know â Iâm just not real interested in datinâ right now.â
You exhale, then â a quiet declaration of relief that seems to go unnoticed â unperturbed even when your dad continues his pitch.Â
Iâve known this woman for years Joel, Iâm telling you, the two of youâd be the perfect match; sheâs a looker too, real pretty.
Ew. Tuning him out, you check the clock, find that you only have a few minutes before you need to get going. You stand from the table and make your way toward the sink with your now-empty coffee mug in hand.
Would I ever lead you astray? your dad is asking just as you brush past Joel. His hand, idle by his side, catches the fabric of your blouse and you have to fight to ignore the pinprick of electricity it ignites under your skin.
âNo, I know,â Joel grumbles. âI trust your judgment ân all, âts just-â
âWill you just give her a chance?â
âJesus; fine.â
The mug slips from your grip, falls into the sink with a clang.
Your dad glares at you, expression softening only when you gesture to the still-intact ceramic lying on its side in the basin.
Heâs quickly distracted, then, jotting a series of numbers down onto a scrap of notebook paper, the blue ink pressed in so hard that itâs beginning to bleed through.Â
âAtta boy,â he drawls, sliding it across the counter. Joel pinches it between two fingers, folds the paper without looking at it and stuffs it into his front pocket.Â
âPromise youâll give her a call tonight? I may or may not have already talked you up, and I need to know youâre not gonna make me look bad here.â
Joel has to see you staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He must. If looks could kill, heâd be six feet under already. But heâs refusing to meet your gaze, eyes glued to the cabinet directly in front of him as he nods. âYeah, Iâll call her tonight,â he says, a small, unconvincing smile pulling at the corner of his lips.Â
Heâs actually agreeing to this?
You need to get out of here before you say something rash.
The anger bubbles in you slowly, then all at once, threatening to boil over as you slip on your shoes and sling your bag over your shoulder.Â
Marching toward the door, you offer a half-hearted bye, not bothering to look back before you leave.
The office is already milling with people by the time you stroll in, ten minutes late.Â
The conversation between Joel and your dad is still running laps in your head as you sneak past your bossâs door.
It sticks there through the morning and well into the afternoon, your dadâs words an incessant earworm: I think you two would really hit it off.
The thing is â you canât blame Joel for saying yes to the setup. Not really. Your situation is complicated, messy, bound to end badly.
Maybe heâd be happier with Deb.Â
They could take walks together, stroll through the grocery store or down the street hand-in-hand. Throw dinner parties and shamelessly gush about their relationship to their friends. All without fear of being caught doing something wrong.
Because thatâs what this is, you and Joel â itâs wrong. Not like you werenât already well aware of that. Leave it to some woman youâve never met to rub it in.
The day passes infuriatingly slow.
The pile of emails in your inbox only grows larger by the time youâre due to clock out, stack of reports on your desk barely touched. You wince when your boss stops by your cubicle on her way out, eager for an update.
âSorry, Linda; a couple of these were more time-consuming than Iâd hoped,â you lie. But you can tell she doesnât buy it, not one bit, her expression souring as you shuffle through papers.
âI need these done by the end of the week, no matter what.â
âOf course,â you mutter, face heating with embarrassment. âIâll get them done and on your desk by Friday.â
âThanks.â Her heels are already clacking on tile when you open your mouth to apologize again, your sorry lost to the ether.
You gather your things and scramble to your feet as soon as sheâs out of view, not sticking around to watch your computer power down. By the time you get to your car, Joelâs number is already dialed on your phone.
He picks up after two rings.
âDarlinâ â are you okay?â
Itâs admittedly uncharacteristic for you to call him so early. You usually wait until after dark, when youâve both retreated to your respective bedrooms, away from listening ears.
But this canât wait. Itâs been eating at you all day, digging into your work. If you donât talk to him about it, youâre going to end up unemployed. You donât bother to ask if heâs still on the job site, around other people. âYouâre going on this date.â Itâs not a question. More of an accusation.
âBaby,â he sighs. You try your best to ignore his molasses drawl and the way it seeps into your chest.Â
âWhy didnât you say no?âÂ
âHow could I?â he groans. âThereâs your dad, askinâ me if Iâm seeinâ someone, sayinâ heâs already told this lady about me â what am I supposed to say?â
âI donât know.â Your voice comes out a whine. âMake something up. Tell him youâve taken a vow of celibacy.â
He laughs, low and breathy on the other end. âYeah, baby. Think heâd believe that one, fâsure.â
âFuck,â you huff. âI justâ I donât-â
You want to tell him not to go. To cancel. Fake his own death. Do whatever it takes to get out of this. But you have no right, not really. The two of you arenât dating. You donât have any control over what he does or who he sees. And you donât want that, no. You just want him to choose you.
âI donât wanna go, darlinâ. I really donât. But if I do this, I think itâll get him off my back for a while. He wonât have a reason to suspect that Iâm foolinâ around with his daughter.â
Fooling around. His phrasing is a metaphorical punch in the gut.
Itâs not exactly a lie. You havenât put a label on this thing, whatever it is. Itâs been purely physical: lips slotted to lips, tongues pressed together, swapped sweat and saliva. But hearing it reduced to two words, words with such a casual connotation â as if you havenât been driven by overwhelming desire â makes your stomach churn.
Joel doesnât seem to clock it when you go quiet, a cocktail of rage and sorrow sloshing around your insides. âItâs for the best,â he adds, a shot of hard, burning liquor.Â
âYeah,â you say defeatedly. Choke back the pathetic tears that creep up your throat. âFor the best.â
He ends the call with the excuse of bad cell reception. Promises to talk to you later. Youâre not sure that you believe him.
The phrase fooling around curls up in your head, a wet dog, its fur dripping into the crevices of your rattled brain the entire drive home.
You dodge Joelâs calls for the remainder of the week.
Thereâs no use in talking to him when you have nothing to say, when you know any words you attempt will be overtaken by tears.
Even so, it doesnât stop him from trying. His number lights up the screen of your phone at least twice a day.
He leaves voicemails that you do not listen to. You canât. The last thing you need is his syruppy drawl in your ear. Youâll break; you know you will.
So instead, you delete them. Rid yourself of temptation.
But you still ache for him â a devastating truth. You lumber through the days, bones heavy with hurt. Find yourself kept up at night by thoughts of Joel and the infuriatingly soothing timbre of his voice, the intoxicating callous of his fingertips against your soft skin.Â
Itâs a lonely thing, yearning for Joel Miller.
On Friday, your father beams at the dinner table. Heâs grinning like a child as he stuffs a forkful of rice into his mouth.
âJoel and Debâs date is tomorrow,â he says. âThink theyâll really hit it off, donât you?â
Youâre dumbfounded for a long moment â canât believe that this is your life now: being asked about your thoughts on Joel and the ever-elusive Deb as a couple. When it takes too long for you to answer, your fatherâs fork stills pointedly on his plate, and you sputter.
âOh! I mean, I donât know. Like I said, I donât remember Deb.â You canât help your condescending tone. Your dad doesnât seem to catch it anyway.Â
âWell,â he says, âI think theyâll be a match. Hoping so, anyway. The man has been such a hermit lately â maybe if he has a lady, heâll get out more!â
âYou sound real excited,â you grumble. Stab four peas on the prongs of your fork.
âIt is exciting. Iâve never set anyone up before. And the best part is, the place theyâre going to â the Tavern â itâs got rooms you can rent out for wedding receptions. Just imagine if down the line, they got mar-â
âDad,â you stop him. You think youâll be physically sick if you let him finish that sentence. âSorry, I just â Iâm really tired, all of a sudden. I think Iâm going to head to bed early.â
Itâs not a complete lie. Youâre emotionally exhausted as a result of the past couple days. Sleep sounds like a much-needed, blissful escape right now.
Your dad doesnât question you. He just nods. Swipes your plate from in front of you and brings it to the sink along with his.
Of course, you find it impossible to actually drift off that night. Tossing and turning, you battle the glaring urge to get up, slink into the home-office and look up directions to the Tavern.Â
Not that youâre planning to go there anytime soon â youâre just curious. Thatâs all.Â
Around midnight, you give up, pad down the hallway and into the room parallel yours. The computer dials up slowly, and you chew your bottom lip as you wait.Â
You snatch a piece of paper from the printer and a pen from the #1 Dad mug that sits next to the monitor. Click on the internet icon and type the words into the search bar.
This is definitely a bad idea. Maybe the worst youâve had in a while.
You jot the address down anyway.
Downtown Austin is buzzing with life.Â
Patrons spilling out of bars, tourists striding down the street in their brand new Stetsons â it almost distracts you from the task at hand.Â
At just past seven, youâd told your dad you were going out, meeting a friend for drinks. Heâd been a bit taken aback, seeing as youâre not very social these days, but heâd seemed happy. Relieved.Â
Thatâs not what youâre doing, of course.
No â in reality, youâre turning into the parking lot attached to the Tavern. Itâs packed to the brim with cars, but you still manage to find Joelâs truck, its license plate number burned into the back of your mind after countless mornings of absently reading it as you snuck past.
Itâs idle and empty when you inch by, and even though you knew heâd be here, on this date, your heart still sinks. Because maybe a tiny part of you had hoped heâd stand Deb up.Â
You should leave. It was stupid to come here in the first place. What are you going to do â storm inside and demand that he leave with you?
You consider it for half a second, groaning when you realize how pitiful you are. Defeated, you swing your car into a spot at the back, facing the building, and shift it into park. You hug the steering wheel dejectedly.
From here, you have a straight-shot view of the restaurantâs entrance, a set of double doors at the side of the building. Groups spill out every so often, every pair that emerges causing your back to arch reflexively.
Joel and Deb are probably discussing their interests right now, bonding over a shared connection with your dad. You can vividly picture the smile likely plastered across his face â the same one youâve elicited with sweet filth whispered in his ear.
And youâre here, sitting in your running car, watching the door. Your pulse thumps obnoxiously loud in your ears.
Minutes pass like molasses, slow and thick. You watch the clock on the car radio obsessively, betting with yourself on what time theyâll leave. After thirty minutes of nothing, youâre convinced that theyâre going to close the place out.
But then the door opens again, and you straighten up, immediately met with the sight of Joel and Deb.Â
Sheâs talking animatedly, eyes widening every few words, blonde hair wafting around her narrow face. Itâs undeniable that sheâs stunning, even from far away; possesses the kind of beauty you see on magazine covers in line at the grocery store. The jealousy that pools in your gut burns like acetone in an open wound.
She takes his arm as they walk toward the parking lot, and he lets her, despite the rest of his body appearing strangely rigid.
You wonder if heâll take her home. Lead her to his truck, help her up the step to the passenger seat and sneak a look at her ass under her dress before shutting the door. If theyâll leave her car in the lot for the night, come back to retrieve it in the morning once heâs helped her forget about her loser ex-husband; let the scent of her perfume seep into the bed sheets to cover up yours.
But he doesnât lead her to his truck. You watch as they unexpectedly turn down a row of cars, disappearing from your view completely, his arm still locked with hers.Â
He could still kiss her. Press her against the car. Promise her that heâll call â and he will, first thing tomorrow. Heâs probably just being a real gentleman. Treating her like a woman he might want to marry someday.Â
Maybe he knows, after just one date, that sheâs his soulmate. Heâll buy the ring in a couple weeks. Theyâll be engaged in a monthâs time, and heâll say he just couldnât wait any longer.Â
Sheâs the one thing Iâve been missing.
You stew in the agonizing unknown for what feels like hours before Joel materializes once again, backside illuminated by headlights as he strides toward his truck.
And then â he stops. You see the exact moment he notices your car in the parking lot, his eyebrows threading together and his hands splaying over his hips.
Heâs staring directly through the windshield. At you.
Fuck.
He takes a few slow steps. Stops in front of the hood. Narrows his eyes and flexes his jaw.
With a deep breath, you unlock the doors. Gesture for him to get in the passenger side.Â
He immediately rounds the car, prying the door open and climbing inside just as a SUV pulls out the row he and Deb had walked down.Â
The door slams when he yanks it closed. The sound echoes through the cab of the car.
âYou wanna fuckinâ explain what youâre doinâ here?â he snaps. Youâre afraid to look him in the eye, embarrassment and now, anger, spooling hot behind your ears.
You know youâre in the wrong. You shouldnât have followed him. But does he have to be so hostile?
When your gaze finally meets his, he looks â distraught â jaw clenched and lips set in a straight line. His fingers absently dig into denim-covered thighs.
âI donât know,â you mumble, âI just wanted to see how you were with her.â And itâs the truth; not one you want to be admitting right now, to him, but itâs the truth nonetheless.
âDoesnât give you the right to spy on me.â
âSo what was I supposed to do? Sit at home and mope while the guy I was seeing is on a date with someone else? Oh no, Iâm sorry,â you throw your hands up, form air quotes with your fingers, âthe guy I was fooling around with.â
This seems to strike a nerve. His jaw twitches, and his fingers still on his lap.
âIt wasnât like that,â he grits
âNo? Isnât that all this was to you: fooling around?â
Thereâs a beat. Joel sighs.Â
âNo â fuck, no. Of course not.â
His expression softens. A crack in solid stone. âI tried callinâ you,â he says, voice barely above a whisper.
âI know,â you admit.
He nods. Another beat.
âDid you kiss her?â you ask.
âNo.â He says it with intent, with promise, eyes firmly locked on yours now.Â
Your mouth goes dry.
âNo?â
âNo,â he repeats. âI didnât.â
âWhy not?â
âBecause I didnât want to.â
âYou donât want her?âÂ
âNo,â he says flatly, his pupils bulging in the lamplight, black bleeding into the brown of his irises. âI donât want her.âÂ
âWhy not?âÂ
He leans forward. His weight presses into the center console and his breath fans your face â warm, tinged with the scent of cheap beer.
âI donât want her,â he says, voice an octave lower, âbecause I want you. I thought you knew that?âÂ
The radio drones between the two of you, some classic rock song you think you recognize flitting through the speaker. Your pulse beats staccato in your throat, off tempo.
âYou want me?â you ask, a little breathless, and the next words you say are beyond dumb, beyond reckless, but you say them anyway. âProve it.â
Joel doesnât hesitate. He closes the slight distance between you and kisses you, hard, his tongue frantically sliding against yours through parted lips.
Itâs sloppy, and desperate, and you feel drunk on the taste of him, on longing laced with carnal need. Heâs groaning into your mouth, grabbing your head with both hands, burying his fingers in your hair â as if he canât get close enough, as if heâll only be satisfied once heâs swallowed you whole. Youâre pretty sure you want him to.
Your hands move frantically to his t-shirt, then, bunch into the fabric and pull. You need to feel the skin underneath, need to rove your hands along his bare chest. He accommodates, tugging the shirt by the back of the collar, lips separating from yours ever-so-briefly to bring it over his head and toss it onto the backseat.Â
And then heâs back on you, licking into your mouth again, eliciting a whimper from you when his hand wraps around the side of your throat, just under your jaw.Â
Your palms splay across his torso, wander over warm, golden skin. Youâve missed this, god, youâve missed this â but itâs still not enough. You need to feel more of him. In your mouth, in your hand, in your cunt â youâre not picky. Just need him in whatever way heâll provide.
âJoel,â you whimper into his mouth, fingers winding around his bicep.Â
He pulls back. Peers at you through hooded eyes. âWhat is it, baby?â he asks through labored breaths.Â
âNeed you â please.â
He immediately unbuckles your seatbelt. Lowers his seat back and manhandles you onto his lap. You go easily; slot yourself to him with legs folded on either side of his thighs.Â
Wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, you grind down into his lap. His cock strains against denim underneath you. He groans when you swivel your hips and brush the heft of it again with your clothed heat.
âYou gonna let me fuck you?â he asks into your mouth, his forehead pressed to yours.
Your breath catches.Â
You know what heâs really asking: are you going to let him fuck you here, in the parking lot of a public establishment, where anybody could see?
But you donât care. In fact, youâre way past caring, the emptiness of your cunt too painful to ignore any longer. Let them watch him take whatâs his.
You nod frantically. âYes,â you pant. âPlease.â
Joel nods too, as if heâs accepting his fate. Heâs going to fuck his friendâs daughter in the passenger seat of her car. Thereâs no way around it â not when youâre begging for it. Heâs going to give you what you need.
âOkay,â he soothes, âI got you baby.âÂ
He helps you out of your pants, then; clumsily maneuvers them down and off your legs along with your panties and tosses them aimlessly into the back.
He doesnât bother to take his jeans off. Lets you unzip them and pop the button open, your nimble fingers making quick work of it. And then youâre pulling his cock out of his boxers, stiff and leaking in your grasp.
You steady yourself with hands on his shoulders just as he begins to pepper placating kisses along your neck. âGo ahead baby,â he whispers into your ear. âTake it; itâs yours.â
His head falls back against the seat as you stroke him a few times and line his cock up with your dripping entrance, his hands clasped around your waist.Â
You sink down slowly, savoring every inch of him as he burrows in deeper. Heâs so thick, stretching you like itâs the first time again, your walls fluttering as they relax around his cock.
âFuck,â Joel slurs, fingers digging into your skin impatiently when you still, fully seated on him.
âGotta move baby â please move.â
Heâs so fucking deep, though, his cockhead bumping your cervix, and your entire body feels gelatinous atop him. A cloying sort of heat hangs around your head. You swivel your hips weakly, your forehead falling to rest on his with a heavy sigh.
Joel is happy to take control, bucking up into you so hard you see stars. You canât suppress the string of moans that spill from your mouth, and Joel doesnât seem to mind. Heâs just as loud, anyway, his broken sounds bleeding into yours, bouncing off glass and leather.
Neither of you can muster an actual word, though, not with him rutting up into you, sheathing himself in your pussy over and over again. Heâs relentlessly hitting that spot â the one that has you practically clinging to him for dear life.Â
Itâs approaching too quickly; heâs going to make you come.
One of your hands flies to the roof of the car in an attempt to brace yourself, flat palm pressing into it so hard you worry itâll pop.Â
Joel takes the opportunity to drag you down in his lap, spearing you on his cock, and the sudden change in angle makes you cry out.
âOh fâ ahh, oh myââ
âThatâs it,â he coos, âyou got it, babygirl.â
His words tip you over the edge, your entire body locking up as you gush around him. Youâre wetting his lap, slick splattering his thighs, and he loves it, his fervid moan telling you so.
His movements begin to falter then, hips stuttering underneath you as he chases his own high.
âCmon, baby,â you goad, âplease fill me up.â
He grunts when he spills inside, his face nestling in your chest, heaving as he works through it and begins to come down. You donât move, not that Joel would let you, still holding you on his lap like heâs afraid to let you go.
You nuzzle into his embrace as his cock softens inside you.
You stay like that for a while, probably too long given that anybody could easily look into the car and see you straddling him. You donât have the energy to care.
Eventually, you lift your head from its spot on Joelâs chest. Look up at him with bleary eyes.
âJoel,â you say.
He meets your gaze, face shiny with sweat and his hair a mess. He looks gorgeous like this, you think. The way only you get to see him.
âYeah?â He grazes along your arm with featherlight fingers. His touch raises goosebumps on your skin.
âDid you mean it?â
âMean what?â
âAbout wanting me.â In truth, youâre not sure you want the answer. But you need to know, definitively, if Joel is yours. Youâre done sharing him.
âOh, baby,â he drawls. âOf course I do. Youâre all I want. Do you want me?â
And itâs a stupid question. He has to know that. Youâre nodding before he can even finish it. âYes,â you breathe. âI want you, Joelâ
âThen itâs settled. Itâs me and you. No moreâŠinterlopers.â
You giggle. Reluctantly separate yourself from his body and re-dress. You settle back into the driverâs seat with achy legs.
Youâve never felt more content than you do in this moment.
Still, youâll have to hide â wonât be able to share the news of your new relationship with friends or coworkers, your dad â and neither will Joel.Â
You donât care much, not as long as heâs yours, but you need to be sure he feels the same.
âJoel,â you stop him as he opens the passenger-side door to get out. He stills with one leg swung out the door.
âYeah, darlinâ?â
âAre you sure you donât mindâŠbeing a secret? Donât mind keeping me a secret?â
He looks at you like you have two heads.
He pulls his leg back into the car. Shuts the door and leans over the console again.
Taking your chin between his fingers, he forces your gaze. Makes sure youâre listening.
âI want you â doesnât matter who knows or doesnât know. Long as youâre mine.â
Your chest tightens, and your heart squeezes inside your ribcage.
âIâm yours?â
He smiles. Presses a chaste kiss between your eyes, on the tip of your nose, on your lips. The same way he did the other morning.Â
It all feels somehow sweeter, now.
âYeah, angel. Youâre mine. My girl.â
end notes: tysm for reading! please consider commenting and/or reblogging if you enjoyed! I've been toying with the idea of turning this into a series so lmk if that's something you'd be interested in hehe.
Also, I hopped on the bandwagon and made a sideblog for notifs! I'll be doing away with a taglist from here on out, so follow @joelscurlsupdates & turn on notifications if you wanna be notified when I post a new fic :-)
tag list: @janaispunk @amanitacowboy @fhatbhabie @frannyzooey @lola8888673
#joel x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#dbf!joel#joel miller x reader#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fanfiction#tlou fic#the last of us fanfiction
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Okay back on my de aged Damian shit again.
What if Damian recognized Jason.
Bruce had to run to WE to pick something up and left Damian with Cass, Duke, and Tim. He was alright for the first half hour, but once he realized that Bruce wasnât coming back right away, he started getting fussy. Tim is staying far away because he can never seem to hold Damian in a way thatâs comfortable for both of them. Heâs trying tho, he puts cocomelon on his laptop.
âTim, turn that, off that shit will melt his brain.â Duke scolds as he dangles keys infront of Damianâs face. Cass is bouncing him, but it does little to quell the babyâs despair.
âWhat does it matter heâll go back to normal in a couple days anyways!â Tim argues.
âWhat the hell is going on in here?â Jason walks in.
âDamian got babified.â Cass explains, âBruce had to go to WE and he misses his dad.â
âAnd heâs making it everyoneâs problem. In true Damian fashion.â Tim adds.
Damian finally lays eyes on Jason and immediately threw himself at him and cries harder. Cass catches him, but Jason also instinctively tries to catch the falling baby.
âHe recognizes you!â Cass said, trying to maneuver Damian into Jasonâs arms.
âStop squirming so much.â Jason complains, but eventually Damian settles. His cheeks still red and his eyes still watery.
Cass takes a quick picture. Jason tries to grab her phone, but with a baby in his arms, heâs not going to be chasing her down.
Bruce comes home and he is elated that Jason is here and is holding Damian.
âAw, are you having fun with Jason.â
Damian bounces happily now that his dad is back. âGreat, youâre back. Take your kid.â Jason tries to pass off Damian to Bruce.
âDamian, do you want to come with me or stay with Jason?â Bruce offers out his hands.
Damian looks at Bruce, then at Jason, then back and Bruce. And then heâs throwing himself at Bruce.
Damian was a very trusting child lol
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