#fuck them being the same age where are their PARENTS!!

[cheetabites]

☆彡 age ain’t nothing but a number ˳༄꠶

characters: park gyeong seok (player 246), kang dae ho (player 388), and hwang in ho (player 001 / the frontman)

˳༄꠶ summary: headcannons i have regarding if you - their partner - were younger than them (fem intended! reader, and all legal babes 💋)

park gyeong seok (player 246)

★ he works as a portrait painter near an amusement park, he’s been approached by many younger woman. they usually directly express their interest in him by flirting but he usually brushes it off with a smile and a timid shake of his head. regarding this, i don’t think it would’ve been a problem if he’d gotten into a relationship with a younger woman; he is a the type of older man to get really shy about it though

★ despite the hierarchy in korea where juniors are supposed to automatically respect their elders, gyeong seok doesn’t really push it too much. he treats you as an equal with a bit of extra pampering - he does believe that since he’s the older one in the relationship, he should carry most of the responsibilities, whether that be household chores, bringing money home, or just caring for you and his daughter

★ he isn’t too sensitive to other’s opinions on your relationship, but there are some times where he worries about the age gap. it’s mostly out of worry for you though; i mean he’s nearing closer to finally turning forty and he has a young daughter. he just wants you to be happy. although if you talk it out with him and ease his worries, then i think thoughts like those will eventually dissipate

★ sex with him wouldn’t be any different even if you were younger, he’d still have the same kinks. although he would treat you more gently just to make sure he doesn’t “hurt” you

★ his daughter doesn’t mind the age gap either. you’re sweet, thoughtful and you make her dad happy. the only way she’d ever question the age difference would be from an external factor like whispers from other parents that she overhears or if one her classmates says something about it. if this does happen though, you and gyeong seok would obviously clear stuff up for her

kang dae ho (player 388)

★ to be honest, when he first met you he didn’t even think that you were younger than him. it was only when you clarified your age that he realized that he was older than you. he still pursued you despite it though, because you were both legal adults and he found himself captivated with you; he does tend to get with older women though, more often than he does with younger women

★ he’s another one that gets a bit shy about the fact that he’s dating a younger woman. you and his friends love to tease him about it too, just so you can hear him stutter as he tries to figure out a comeback; if one of his friends make a bad comment about your relationship though, he’ll post tf up. but make sure to drag him away, he’s not really good in physical fights

★ he’s more shy when he subs for you. something about you being younger than him yet having all this power over him makes him red in the face (and rock hard in his slacks)

★ i feel like he’d try to coddle you, but you’d hit him with the “i had you crying and begging for me last night, i can take care of myself.” he’d pout when you’d brushed off his advances, but would eventually get over it; he just loves you sm

★ with you, he honestly acts like a himbo. don’t get me wrong, he’s not unintelligent, but it’s like he’s so starstruck with your presence that it kinda short circuits his brain; it makes him all the more lovable though!

hwang in ho / 001 / the frontman

★ this man does not give one flying fuck that you’re younger than him. in fact, it boosts his ego that he was able to bag such a beautiful young baddie like you; just know you’re gonna be as spoiled as hell

★ he’s so detached from people’s opinions that he could not give less of a rats ass about their opinion on your relationship. if it does somehow tick him off though, then he’ll just put a bullet in them

★ if you’re his significant other, there isn’t much of an opportunity to return back to society. he doesn’t want to risk you interacting with other people - especially if you were a previous player; you disappeared without a trace and then suddenly returned to society? it would cause more problems than solutions. he makes sure to make it up to you in other ways though, he doesn’t want you to be unhappy

★ he tries to hide your relationship from the guards, but since you can’t leave he eventually just lets it be. there isn’t much to do at the facility / where the games are held so the guards are constantly exposed to you trailing after him wherever he goes, curious as ever - you often ask him random questions and he regularly indulges in you to keep you satiated. i can just picture you trampling around the halls doing whatever you want in the most fabulous outfit that he gifted you - obviously breaking the rules - and the guards just give eachother a look, kinda saying “damn, if we did that boss would fire - a bullet at - us.”

★ sex with him is relatively the same. but with a younger partner, i believe things like thigh riding and a daddy kink will appear sometime after you get intimate together

the end! I hope you enjoyed <3!

© cheetabites. don’t translate, claim or repost my works on any platform. jan 4 2025.

[moki-dokie]

there's been a bit of a Hot Topic going around bsky (and twt too i guess) about why my age group (particularly in the US) doesn't cook at home much anymore

and there's been a whole lot of takes ranging from dogshit to good and intelligent to total confusion from folks in other countries. neat stuff right. decided to throw my 2 cents in from my own perspective as part of the demographic.

the tldr of it being: there are *several* factors that make it not worth it nor cost efficient anymore where it once was. obviously that isn't gonna be the case for everyone, but it is the case for an overwhelming majority, me included. and this isn't even including, you know, a whole population of disabled people who are physically unable to cook for themselves but I sort of figured that was a given. but maybe not, considering...

then this absolute genius comes in

thank you buddy for having no reading comprehension and missing quite literally every single point i made that it isn't strictly about the dollar amount of the meal itself. like. okay??? good for you i guess.

sure, there will be some meals where that is very true. I could make a bigass pot of ham and beans that'll last me a whole week for about $10. hence why i added there will always be some meals cheaper to make at home. but that completely disregards every. other. point.

it is not, and has never been, about the direct cost of the meal itself. that's just one of a handful of reasons that factor into the whole conversation. there are going to be times that eating out will be more expensive price-wise, but when it checks off like 5 different boxes i couldn't fulfill myself for whatever reason, that price balances out. and we really are in an age where we're having to negotiate the worth of every action we take and every minute we spend on something. i don't know why thats such a hard concept for people to grasp.

legit nobody is arguing it *should* be this way. it shouldn't. we all recognize this. in the ideal world it would be both worth it and affordable to make every meal at home and leave eating out for special occasions, as was the case when i was growing up. and i totally get it that our parents, many of whom raised us by their lonesome, managed to do it fine so in theory we should be able to as well. sometimes, yeah, it really is a matter of sucking it up and doing it no matter how exhausted you might be. that's true for all facets of life tbh. but it shouldn't be that way all the time every time.

and, i don't know about the rest of you, but for us? it really was a whole fucking To Do to clip coupons and plan Shopping Day. I'd spend a couple hours clipping from a few different newspapers and the mail fliers we collected. then we organized them by store. then mom would plan out which stores we would go to for which items,the route we'd take since sometimes it meant going outside of town, the timeframe for everything since it was typically an all-day event. like, a whole day of planning and a whole day of executing JUST to grocery shop, and that was back in the 90s/00s. Inconvenient, yes, but still actually worth the trouble. couponing saved SO much money back then, especially if you knew the stores that would double them. coupons like those don't exist anymore. period. now the ones that do are like, pennies off or bogo deals and otherwise it's app this and app that for any sort of savings - which even then might only be like a meager 10% off the purchase. in no way is it worth my time and effort today to do the same thing we did when i was young.

anyway. so yeah. for a hell of a lot of us, sometimes going out to eat or ordering in is in fact the most worthwhile way, and sometimes even the most cost efficient way, to feed ourselves anymore.

[dunmeshistash]

If Izutsumi only has a 'bit' of human soul where's the rest of it? Dead and gone? She doesn't suffer for the lack of it, so it doesn't seem like people need their whole soul. Could someone even take the piece she's missing and stuff it into another monster??

Well, this is gonna be a lot of speculation and very little facts, so beware (will never forget you anon who said I posted my opinions without clarifying it was speculation)

My theory is that in dungeon meshi bodies and souls have some sort of relationship? After all Marcille used the dragon's flesh to resurrect Falin and that cause part of its soul to be mixed in with hers, and at the end to get rid of his soul so Falin could be brought back without being a chimera they ate it's flesh and ground up it's bones so plants would absorb it. So I think it's safe to say there's some relationship between body and soul, at least inside the dungeon where resurrection is possible.

If we take Izutsumi's timeline as a basis, she was a 6yo child when she was taken from her parent's and turned into a beastmen (you could argue that it was a 6yo monster but Izutsumi's ages like a tallman so I doubt only here it would be referring to the monster)

So she was a small child fused with a big monster, so maybe that in itself is why there's way more monster?

The other possibility is that only part of the child was fused with the monster, or perhaps they did take the soul out of her body to put it in the monster, maybe like how ghosts that don't have a body might posses someone that dies and is resurrected and their souls are fused??

But here she only talks about the "personality" changing not their appearance, I really think beastmen and chimera fusions where parts of each show up in the final form makes more sense if their bodies (along with the soul) is fused too? But I'm just speculating.

Anyway, two possibilities

The (whole) child was fused with a much bigger monster and that's why it's the smaller part

The child killed and then only part of her (or her soul) was fused with the monster

Very fucked up either way, about your question if there could be two izutsumis made from the soul of the same child I doubt it, if we take resurrection as an example I don't think they can "divide" the human soul in two different beings? Same as how they couldn't separate part of the dragon soul away from Falin's without before consuming it's flesh? So maybe they burned the rest of the child's body to get rid of the rest of her soul in that second possibility

The AB comic about resurrection says you can't really bring back someone from pieces even if you try to resurrect all of them, so I'd ASSUME that's true for trying to use the same soul for different beings

Anyway these are my thoughts, I love Izutsumi's backstory is so fucked up and tragic... what was done to her is horrible.

[ifindus]

Human names for HWS Norway

I’ve seen several posts about human names for the nations going around lately and I wanted to offer my own opinion on Norway’s name, as a Norwegian person. This is not meant as critique of other people’s headcanons, it’s just my personal opinion and meant to offer some insight into the cultural and historical background of certain Norwegian names. I’ve made several posts about this topic, but I realize that it’s been years since last time and I think it’s about time to make a new one.

First; some background on naming traditions in Norway. In Norway surnames especially are very diverse and carries a lot of history and meaning behind them as they often are names of farmsteads or places where the families lived in the 1920s. This is when it became mandatory to inherit surnames from your parents. Before this, people often changed names when they migrated and took the name of the place they moved to, as a sort of “nickname” when people needed to distinguish you from other people with the same name. “Oh yes, that’s XXXX from this farm, not XXXX from that farm” etc. The patronyms had a similar function to this and prior to 1920 everyone was named in official documents in this fashion: “First name, Name of father -daughter/-son, Name of place/farmstead”. This explains the origin of the modern surnames ending with “-sen”, where “sen” means “son”. These surnames were inherited by people who did not have a connection to a farm or a place, perhaps because they lived in the cities and were working class.

Next; a critique on the more widely used name in the fandom: Lukas Bondevik. Neither of these names are good picks for Norway in my opinion. Starting with the surname; Bondevik. As its own name, it is fine, it means “farmer’s bay”. The problem with it is due to its close association with a conservative politician who at one point was prime minister in Norway. The Bondevik-government is not uncommon to talk about and when I just google the name “Bondevik”, every single result on the first page is of this politician. Again, because Norwegian surnames are so personal and geographically locked, you end up giving Norway a history relating to this specific family. There are only 201 people in Norway with this surname, most of them are related to each other, and the name will be associated with this conservative politician. It would be similar to England being named Arthur Thatcher or Arthur Churchill, or America being named Alfred F. Kennedy or Alfred F. Reagan. There is no avoiding this.

Continuing with the critique on Lukas. There is no way around this name as it has been the go-to choice for the fandom for several years now, picked out of a list of names Hima suggested. Personally I do not think this name fits Norway as a character due to both cultural and historical Norwegian associations. Lukas is not a name that was used in Norway before the 1990s and it did not become a popular name until 2008. Lukas is not a name with Norse origin, its origins are biblical, and is a new trendy name that has entered the Norwegian society with the globalisation and Americanisation of our media. It is a very young name and you will not find people over 35 with this name still today. If you talk about hws Norway where he exists before 1990, he would not have this name. It is both culturally and historically inaccurate. It is also, in my opinion, a bit of a fuck-boy name – it gives modern, upper-class or city boy vibes. Not a name that I think fits hws Norway.

Lastly; my own suggestions of names for Norway. I will never stop advocating for Sigurd as the best name for Norway. It is a name of Norse origin and has been relatively popular through all time periods, never going out of fashion, a solid Norwegian name. Because of its history you can find this name in any social class (though perhaps not upper-class today?), and it does not betray any age nor will it ever become outdated. Its meaning is “victory” and “guardian”. I must admit it does not sound very good when pronounced in English, but it is a very pretty name in Norwegian (the "d" is silent). The name has a long history, but is not closely associated with one specific person. There is a famous myth/story with origins to before the Viking Age about “Sigurd Fåvnesbane, the dragon slayer”, and I like the parallel between hws Norway and this myth, and hws England and the story of King Arthur. Sigurd is a good Norwegian name and its connotations fits the character of Norway very well.

My suggestions of surnames for Norway are Nordvik and Ødegård. I still cannot choose between these two as I love them both. Nordvik means “northern bay” and it is such a generic surname you can find it everywhere in Norway where there’s water. I like it because it ties in with the original meaning of the name “Norway”, the way to the north, and associates with the sea, which has been of huge importance to Norway through history. Ødegård means “desolate farm” and only became used as a surname/nickname after the Black Plague, which saw many farms abandoned. Ødegård was the name these farms got and people who moved there took it as a surname in the process previously explained. I like this name because it is not tied to any specific region either, so the geographical origin becomes more intangible and creates an air of mystery.

This is my personal take on the names for hws Norway, and again; is not meant to be a critique against anyone using the popular fandom names. I know habits are hard to change and at this point is probably very integrated when talking about the character. Anyone is free to use any name they want of course, I am just offering some cultural and historical background and insight on them as “Norwegian names”. If anyone has other name suggestions for Norway they are unsure about or wish to know more about, I’ll gladly make an input if Norwegian advise is wanted.

[turtleghosting]

OP of the post I took the image from was a 03 Raph/Casey shipper so I stole it <3

Who wants to have a long and heartfelt discussion about the very open displays of platonic affection in 03, created right in the thick of 9/11's aftermath so much that the first few episodes include the towers on the city skyline, and thus were able and willing to portray a softer side of masculinity that has since gone extinct in media SO badly that kids these days™️ MUST interpret all physical affection and deep, less superficial friendships as romance?

Oh also. Short friend moment.

[hand-face-chan]

I'm only halfway though Hbomberguy's new video and I dont know if this is a universal experience but my main horrified takeaway from hbomb's plagiarism video so far is that one of my highschools TAUGHT AN ENTIRE CLASS OF 13 YEAR OLDS TO PLAGIARISE. LIKE, ON PURPOSE.

I ended up moving to a much better highschool, but my first highschool essentially taught us to "write" essays by reading what someone else had written and then write what they said again but putting it "into your own words". Which in practice was teaching us to change, for example, "the works of Shakespeare were regarded by many as the first popular art form" to "Shakespeare's plays have been said by some to be the first example of popular media". One teacher actually told us that the process of writing an essay was "saying what the people you've researched have said, in a way where it sounds like you said it".

Like. The tactics that actual plagiarists use to hide the fact that they were stealing. An actual teacher tried to teach me to do that.

[anaalnathrakhs]

my parents aren't abusive in any way, but living with them is like... letting your kid cousin play with a prized collection, gritting your teeth and hoping for them to be done with it soon, knowing any second something could be broken, and anyway you'll have to put the whole thing back together right afterwards. and like the kid cousin, you gotta not necessarily keep an eye on them, but always be on call, thinking about WHAT the kid might be doing and WHERE they are, so you don't make them feel too unsuported or unheard

[fourswords]

in my free time i'm typing out a little post-adventure of link story from loz 1 zelda's perspective on link bringing this OTHER princess zelda who was apparently asleep for centuries (and thank you SO much for the WARNING that he was going to be DOING this, IMPA [<-entirely sarcastic]) back to the castle and the acclimatization of everyone to the whole situation and it's genuinely so fun. loz 1 zelda's standing there like alright how do i gently break it to my relative from the distant peaceful past that she has to learn how to fight in this time period or she's going to get ripped to shreds by monsters. and then she says exactly that and when aol zelda predictably looks mildly freaked out about the subject and is just standing there internally screaming like yep! okay! sure! death and destruction is rampant in this world and it kind of makes me wish i'd never woken up at all! when do fighting lessons start! loz 1 zelda is just standing there like. hm. was that not gentle enough. i feel like that wasn't gentle enough.

[naamahdarling]

"who radicalized you" my kindergarten teacher for forcing me to sit in front of the whole class during the "if you're happy and you know it" song and smile and clap my hands, as a punishment for not clapping my hands because I was not happy (and i knew it) and we had just received a classroom lecture about not fucking lying.

next.

"who radicalized you" ever since i was a child i wanted other people to be treated nicely and fairly because i didnt understand why theyd deserve otherwise and it fills me with disgust seeing how people treat their fellow human beings sometimes

[lightseoul]

a/n. second time writing from bkg's perspective. this was so fun! (1.1k)

the moment that cemented bakugou’s resolve to marry you wasn’t exactly grand.

it wasn’t your first kiss.

or the first time you made love to each other.

not even the first time you met his nerd-ass friends or his (slightly) overbearing parents. although those two come as close runner-ups.

no, it was rather a random saturday morning after you spent a night at his place, now clad in what he thinks is nothing but your intimates and a burnt orange t-shirt of his that drapes loosely over your frame.

and as he enters the kitchen and closes the distance between the two of you with a few strides, he can’t help but wonder what you’re doing—deeply focused on your laptop—when you’re probably the one who’s extra pedantic about not bringing work home.

“morning,” he grunts, leaning down to kiss your cheek, which you happily accept. although, to his chagrin, your eyes remain on your computer screen, not even sparing him a single glance.

he knows it’s fucking embarrassing, how strongly you elicit feelings within him without you even fucking trying, but he can’t stop the frown that takes over his face even if he attempted to fight it.

shaking off the irrational disappointment from not even being ignored, he rounds the kitchen island and starts brewing the two of you coffee.

“by the way,” he starts, glancing at you over his shoulder, “the old hag’s birthday is coming up. she wants to have dinner with just the four of us, or some shit.”

“i know,” you simply pipe up from where you’re seated on one of his fancy bar stools, gaze still glued on whatever the fuck it is that’s keeping your attention from him.

he turns to you, a manual coffee grinder in tow. “you do?”

at that, you finally look up at him, an innocent expression etched across your features. “you don’t remember? i asked you when your parents’ birthdays were way back in march.”

way back in march.

back when you unanimously decided to decisively end the dating phase and become boyfriend-girlfriend.

“yeah?” is the only thing he manages to get out.

you let out a soft laugh that’s nothing but music to his ears. “yeah, dummy.”

before you can get to see the red that’s most definitely creeping up to his cheeks, bakugou turns his back against you, returning to busying himself with crushing the beans into fine powder and pouring lukewarm water into the machine.

only a few months before reaching a full year together, and you still manage to make him fucking blush.

over the most mundane things, too.

when he first got into his very first relationship with you at the ripe age of 28, he thought he’d outgrown and was way past the embarrassing shit that the human body was capable of when dealing with anything remotely close to romance.

it didn’t take him long enough into your relationship to find out he was so, so wrong.

sighing, he pours out the cup of ground beans onto the filter, finally pressing the button and bringing the coffee maker to life.

you must be done with what’s highly likely is work by now.

but chancing a glance at you, he’s once again met with palpable disappointment when the very same sight greets him.

before he can rein them in, the words come tumbling out of his lips.

“the fuck is so important on that laptop?”

his booming voice must’ve caught you off guard, because you startle ever so minutely in your seat.

“sorry,” he quickly adds on, albeit through a mutter; frustration with himself and his inability to modulate his voice added to the increasingly long list of emotions he’s having to fucking deal with right now.

waving him off, you shoot him another one of that disarming smile of yours. “‘s funny that you ask. i was just about to ask you for your opinion.”

with that, you gesture him to come close with your fingers. curious, he once again rounds the island, ultimately occupying the spot to your right and leaning down to peer at the small text on your screen.

before he can even get a word in, you hurriedly explain yourself. “mitsuki-san mentioned her personal sewing machine broke, so i’ve been thinking about getting her a new one.”

you point to a sleek, off-white model among what looks to be a vast array of selections, “i researched the specs and i think this one’s the best. what do you think?”

a million things course through his mind in an instant, but what he ends up sputtering out is: “you’re such a fucking nerd, you know that?”

at that, you look up at him, your seemingly perpetually moisturized lips now formed into a playful pout, and it takes everything in him not to just pull you in for a kiss and completely abandon the conversation in its entirety.

but he’d like to think he at least has the slightest bit of self-control.

even if you do wear him the fuck out on a daily basis.

“i just want to make sure it’s perfect!” you argue, shifting to stare at your laptop again and bringing him back to the present. your voice is way smaller when you continue. “…i want her to like me.”

he doesn’t even miss a beat. “she already fucking does, dumbass.”

and she really does.

the morning after bakugou first brought you to meet his parents a whopping two months into calling it official, mitsuki texted him something along the lines of having the family heirloom slash ring already adjusted to fit your finger.

he immediately called the old hag after receiving the message just to reprimand her ear off for being too fucking forward and for meddling too much.

but, if he were to be completely honest with himself, he was angry not because mitsuki was imposing, but because he couldn’t believe his mother beat him to that important realization.

the realization that maybe, just maybe, you’re the one.

and now, as he studies you as you scroll through more and more iterations of the best sewing machines on the market with your eyebrows adorably furrowed in utmost concentration, it dawns on him.

it dawns on him that that maybe just turned into a definitely.

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon

˖⁺‧₊ this one made me smile like an idiot while writing lmao. as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 have a nice day!

[misserabella]

sick love

spencer reid x fem! reader

pt2!!

synopsis;;

you catch your best friend spencer touching himself and far from being embarrassed, it only turns him on even more. if only you knew he had been dreaming about this moment for his entire fucking life and that he has even planned for it to happen…

cw;; (let’s act as if spencer and reader are the same age (consensual 18) in high school

really perv!spencer, dark themes, spencer uses readers body without implicit consent (i don’t know if it counts as cnc since later we find out she doesn’t mind), somnophilia (if you squint), INDECENT use of cum, stalker behavior, use of masculine sex toys, breeding kink, mommy and daddy kink, praise kink, praising, degradation, multiple orgasms, oral sex (f receiving), sub and dom spencer, p in v sex, unprotected sex, cum eating, cream pie, masturbation (m), voyeurism (?), dacryphilia, violence (not towards reader), dirty talking, hair pulling, blood… MINORS DNI OR I’LL COME FOR YOU!

@cafekitsune ‘s separators

Spencer was obsessed with you. Not in a lovely kind of obsessed —that too— but in a really perverted way. His sick infatuation commenced a warm summer, when you and him, best friends since freshman year, had ended up staying up late in your house for a movie night. Your parents were no where to be seen, and being scared of spending the night alone, you invited Spencer for a sleep over.

Everything was perfect. Little snacks, the newest film in D.C in tape and a cozy sofa in which the two of you silently rested as you stared at the tv. That was until you had fallen sleep on the other end of the sofa, loose and extremely short pijama pants letting your lace panties show and nipples erect due to the coldness of the night underneath your tight and white tank top. He found himself stating for far too long, instead of bringing up on your body the blanket that you both had been shared, his eyes taking in just how beautifully exposed you were.

Full honesty? He didn’t even remember how his dick had gotten that hard nor how it had ended on one of his hands, palm slick in precum as he thrusted in it, bottom lip in between his teeth and soft moans and groans scaping his lips. But he didn’t care. He came so hard that night that he swore he saw stars on your living room’s ceiling.

After that, he of course felt awkward and embarrassed of himself around you. Masturbating to his sleeping best friend, and just mere inches away from you? Jesus Christ. Though that remorse quickly went away when he found himself sinking deeper in that sickness under your name.

He relished in that pretty tears of yours when you cried about another stupid boy being mean to you and dumping you against his neck, your tits fully pressed to his chest and whimpers making his cock push against his jeans, even more when that same guys were the ones crying and begging for him to stop as he beat the shit out of them.

He liked to see you cry, but if it wasn’t because of him, he wouldn’t have it. He sent a couple of them to the ER, but they were too scared to get a couple more bones broken if they ever spoke up,— and also, who would believe them if they said that the slender nerd of their class was the one that beat them up— so he always got away with it. In no time, the guys were fucking terrified of even glancing at you, leaving you all to himself. Like it had to be. You were his, or you’ll be.

You were always complaining about things of yours disappearing, “Fuck! I cant found my chapstick.” him shrugging even when he knew that he was, in fact, the thug. Then, he’d go back to his house and open the last drawer of his desk — which he had under key— and take the same chapstick out of his pocket to push it inside along with the other things he had stolen from you: lipgloss, necklaces, bracelets… Panties.

He loved them. He almost had a collection of them, of all types; cotton, lace, thongs… He loved the ones that he stole from the dirty laundry the most, which’s crotch he could push against his nose and lick as he fucked his fist. Getting to taste and smell your slick always drove him crazy.

Another thing Spencer loved to do was take photos of you. He had albums and albums of polaroids for the two of you, being both on the pictures or just you. He loved to watch them from time to time: you smiling, you singing, you dancing, you blowing a kiss to the camera, jumping in the pool, petting a stray cat… Being simply you.

But he also had some photos that were exceptionally and just for him. Some of them were flashes of your body in those little and pretty bikinis you always wore in the warm summers, some other of your naked body —facing away from the door of your bathroom— when you changed, you eating ice cream with cheeks, lips and tongue stained in the vanilla treat, some of you sleeping, some others of the panties and little skirts that you’d wear. He even had one of you resting asleep on his lap, lips parted and against his hard cock. He saved some of them on his wallet in case he ever had to take care of a boner when he hung out with you.

He was in love with you. Sickly in love. Sickly enough to take some of those photos of yours and cut out your face just to tape them to his porn magazines. Some of the pages had even stuck together due to his cum.

And you were just so unbelievably oblivious of his infatuation that you always left the window to your room unlocked in case he ever wanted to sneak in in the middle of the night to stay with you if he ever felt lonely in his empty house. At first, before his infatuation appeared, he would sneak in from time to time when the loneliness became too strong for him to handle, cuddling with you and leaving first hour in the morning. Now? Now he snuck in almost every goddamn night. To cuddle, to watch you sleep, to be able to hold you close and even to take advantage of your heavy slumber. He had licked his cum out of your fingers when he had used your hand to masturbate, having to hold in his moans and whimpers. Other nights, he would get under your covers and part your thighs just to push his head in between them, face against your clothed cunt as his hips buckled against the duvet, tongue flattening against your heat and moaning when your thighs would unconsciously squish his head.

He loved it when you played with his hair, groaning when you’d pull from it when he’d tickle you, and laughing when you’d scream at him for using your good conditioner after a pool day. He was obsessed with your little lotions and expensive shampoos, using them as lube to fuck his hand while he showered in your house, using then his cum to fill the tubes, evening out the difference.

He would steal food from you in the cafeteria, using your own fork or spoons just to be able to have your spit in his mouth. You’d always whine about it, but he never stopped, so you eventually stopped caring, giving him full access to it when you were full.

Spencer considered himself to be a man with clear tastes when it came to sexual preferences. He would love to fuck you to his liking, to sink you into submission and to get you to call him daddy. He thought of himself as a dominant kind of person rather than a submissive one, but that changed when in one of his numerous wet dreams it was you the one who choked him and fucked him, using him like you’d use a fucking toy. He had woke up with a raging orgasm as from his lips fell the word ‘mommy’.

Was he a pervert? Absolutely. Would he ever speak up about his feelings for you? Absolutely not.

He’d prefer to die with a boner than ever telling you he loved you. He was just terrified of the thought of you pushing him away or ever hurting your friendship.

So after a day full of what he thought of ‘teasing’, since it always involved you dressing in one of those incredibly short skirts or staring at him for too long as you sucked on one of the lollipops that he always bought you, he would come to his house and enter his room with a full tent in between his thighs. He would pull out of the back of his closet his fleshlight and spray one of his pillows with those little bottles of your perfume that came as gifts with the bigger version just to bend his other one and push the fleshlight in it, fully lubed and ready for his cock to fuck into, just like that pretty pussy of yours. And that’s what he’d do, fuck his stupid little toy with his face fully buried on the perfumed one as he imagined you under him, ass up and chest pushed against his bedsheets. His pace was needy, harsh and deep, from his mouth, dirty talking spilling. ‘Yeah, take my cock you slut, fucking take it.’ ‘That’s a good girl for daddy.’ Those were always the best orgasms, making him fill the toy to the brim when he couldn’t found himself to stop. Too pussy drunk even when it wasn’t your pussy what he fucked in between whimpers.

He sometimes would leave his house’s and bedroom door open with the dream of you someday catching him red handed.

But they were all just dreams, they weren’t supposed to fucking happen in real life. Yet, there he was, and so were you.

That day he had come with a really painful bonner in between his thighs. You’d been sitting on his lap for a whole goddamn hour since your classmates from class B had borrowed most of your chairs to hang prom signals, leaving you without a place to sit and using your best friend as a chair. The problem was not only that, it was the fact that you’d be adjusting every five minutes and the fact that he had found himself being completely ignored by you as you talked with your best friends, laughing with them and jumping on his lap when the jokes were too good. Well, he was not being completely ignored, since one of your hands, had found his hair and slowly massaged his scalp, every now and then pulling at his hair when you played with his locks, his hands trembling on your thighs —which spread sideways across from his — thumbs circling your soft skin.

The fact that you were using him. The fact that he felt used by you and only you, was what had him gritting his teeth and fighting the urge to buckle against your ass. But Spencer was a good boy, so he just stood sit and went through that delirious torture with not a word coming out of his mouth. He felt like breathing once again when you got up from his lap when the bell rang, notifying the students that the day had ended, but still choking when he no longer could smell your cologne or felt you flush against him.

“Fuck…” he whimpered when he plopped on his bed, his palm pushing hardly against his pulsing and leaking cock, precum staining his jeans and underwear. He had pulled out from his closet his fleshlight, since he felt that his hand would not be enough today. He had to fuck himself. “Please, fuck me, please…” he was a babbling mess when his tip pushed inside the lubed toy. “Use my cock, baby… Use me…” he found himself whimpering at his mind scenario, in which you would ride him relentlessly, his dick reaching deep enough to hit that sweet spot that you’d torture to make yourself cum all over his cock. “Fuck, mommy, fuck, feels so good… Ah, faster.” he was a babbling mess, his hips rutting upwards against his hand movements to fuck his cock deeper in his toy.

“Spence!!!” you had called from downstairs as you opened his unlocked front door. Spencer always left it that way for you to come and go as you pleased. You were smiling, in between your hands a copy of a book he had been dying to read for months and for which he had cried after finding out that it had been sold out. After seeing just how badly he wanted it, you had been fighting with sharp nails to get a hold on one of the limited edition copies that had gone on sale in the city’s center, where you had rushed just as classes finished and where you had killed your savings in the dib. “I have a surprise for you!!” you chanted, locking the door behind you and jumping excitedly, frowning when you didn’t hear and answer from him. “Spencer?” you called out again, the soft sound of his voice reaching you from upstairs. You took off your shoes, a smirk growing on your lips when the idea of giving him a scare came to mind. Up the staircase, you were like a ghost, slowly approaching his room and mumbling, though you froze when a moan got to your ears. Your skin went pale and your cheeks heated up when needy whimpers followed up right after, as if all the blood under your skin had ended up pooling there.

“Fuck, just like that. Faster, please…” was he with someone? Your chest heaved at the thought of Spencer fucking with some random girl that wasn’t you. You’ve liked him for years on end, since the first time that he held you as you cried your heart out after your first breakup. But he never seemed to look at you in any other way that wasn’t friendly, so, at the end, —being too scared to speak up about your feelings in fear that it would break your friendship— you had decided to bury them as deep as you could inside you, believing that he had to be just what he was; your best friend.

Even though you knew it was wrong, you slowly approached his slightly open door, peeking in in need to see who was he fucking, promising yourself that you’d leave once you’ve taken a glance. But all that went to hell when you found out he was not fucking anyone but himself, back against the mattress, bare chest rising and lowering slowly as his hips fucked upwards, inside his clear flesh light. Your eyes widened and your legs trembled when from his lips new groans and moans fell. Spencer was fucking touching himself. Fuck, fuck, fuck… You needed to get away from there. Yeah, that’s what you’d do. You’d go back to your house and forget all about it… Or that’s what you thought, instead finding your feet glued to the floor as you watched.

He looked so hot and pretty all needy… Eyes closed shut and mouth agape in gasps, glasses crooked, eyebrows pushed together as his head fell back against his pillow, hair messy all over it. His hand was slow, pushing the toy down on his cock in deep and harsh strokes. You could almost perfectly see his long and thick dick, his thrusts making the lube’s wet sounds fill the room. “Ah, fuck…” his voice was low and so broken you felt your panties damp in your slick, you were so turned on that your free hand cupped your cunt, making you almost moan if you hadn’t bit down on your bottom lip.

Your fingers had started to push against the lace of your panties underneath your plaid skirt, freezing on your clit when a new babble came from inside the room and your best friend’s lips. “Fuck, y/n…, mommy…, please, fuck, fuck, fuck…” your eyes widened, not only because…, fuck, Spencer was fucking that goddamn fleshlight with you in mind doing so, but because he had called you mommy too. Surprisingly enough that only turned you on even more, a needy moan tearing your throat before you could push it down to your chest. Spencer’s movements stopped, his gaze moving to his opening door just to see you standing there, flushed cheeks, heavy breathing and book in hand.

He quickly pushed away the toy, cursing under his breath when he sat up, a pillow hiding his hard and leaking cock, which was twitching at the sight of your trembling legs. “Fuck, y/n, I…” he didn’t even know what to say. You had caught him, caught him fucking himself with his goddamn fleshlight, and even worse, caught him moaning your name. He felt sick to the stomach, but at the same, so turned on too. You had caught him… Finally. And who knows how much time you had been listening and peeking at him while he pleasured himself. He had to hold back a whimper at the thought of it. “How much did you hear?” he cursed when you didn’t answer, cheeks reddening and cock twitching under the pillow, leaking against his thigh.

“Mommy.” you said, making his head snap back to you, a frown on his face, eyes widening when you let the book fall from your hands as you stepped in, closer to his bed.

“W…What?” fuck.

“ ‘Mommy’. That’s what you called me.” you smirked, eyes falling to his lap when he pushed the pillow further down. “Who would think that Spencer, the Genius Spencer Reid, would be so goddamn dirty to even leave the door unlocked for anyone to see as he fucks himself. And even worse, have a mommy kink.” he stuttered as he shook his head.

“It’s not what it seems like, I…”

“You what?” you pushed, thumb and index gripping his chin so his eyes would find yours. “Are you gonna deny that you were touching yourself while thinking about me? That you were calling me mommy and whimpering for me to fuck you faster?” he moaned at your words, half-lidded eyes full of lust staring at your full and rosy lips. “Mmh? Answer me.” you ordered and he whimpered, your pussy clenching when he shook his head and cried out a ‘no’. “ ‘No’ what?” your lips brushed against his, teasing him to get out of him what you wanted.

“No, mommy.” you pulled his hair when he tried to kiss you, making him groan against your lips as you clicked your tongue. “Please…” he pleaded, hands rocking the pillow on his lap.

“Only good boys get a kiss, Spence.”

“I’m a good boy…” he was so gone that you almost laughed, so needy for pussy…

“Oh yeah?” he nodded, his tongue dampening his lips, hips thrusting upwards towards the pillow that covered his naked body. “The why don’t you show me?” he shivered when your lips latched to his neck, your tongue pressing against his skin in open mouth kisses that led to his ear. “Why don’t you show me how good you are and let me watch you fuck that pretty toy of yours, hm?” he moaned, muttering a ‘fuck’ as he nodded, making you smirk. “Then go ahead, baby, let me see.” you pulled away as he pushed the pillow off his lap, dick twitching below a pool of precum that dripped from his tip.

In the state he was… He would do anything for you. He would even fuck himself stupid if you said the word. Anything you asked, anything you wanted. Anything for you.

He moaned when you sat down on his desk’s chair, skirt rolling up and letting more of your soft and beautiful thighs show. His hands were shaking when his fingers gripped around the clear silicone or his toy, whimpering when he noticed your eyes on his twitching dick.

You had seen dicks before, but none of them was as beautiful as Spencer’s. It was big, with a great large and just the perfect girth, large and thick enough to have you limping for a few days after a good fuck. And you knew he could give it to you, that he would fuck your hard and needy, deep enough to have you drooling over yourself as you came over and over again. You would love to drool and choke on it too, outline the veins on his shaft with your tongue and take him so deep on your throat you’d need to swallow when he came in your mouth. “Aw, poor Spence…” you cooed at his twitching cock, red tip and tight balls. “Caught about to cum. It must really hurt, doesn’t it baby?” he nodded, tears on his eyes due to your teasing, chest rising in heavy breaths. “Are you gonna cum on that cup for me to drink, hm? Want me to drink your cum, Spencer?” he moaned a breathy gasp, and you smirked to his reaction. He liked that.

Dirty talking. Mommy kink. Praise kink. Notes taken.

“Yes, yes, yes…” he muttered, almost begging for it. The thought of you swallowing his cum making him go crazy. He whined when his leaking tip brushed against the artificial hole, his lip being tortured by his teeth when you parted your thighs, panties exposed and damped lace for him to see. “Fuck…” he cursed, bottoming out into the wetness of the fleshlight in a deep and large stroke, almost cumming at the sight. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” your hands came down your body, your left resting on your breasts— hard nipples pushing against your shirt, which you pulled and pinched in between your fingers— and your right sneaking in between your thighs and below your underwear, whining when you felt just how wet you were. “Shit, y/n.”

His dick was twitching like crazy with every new and fast thrust of his hips, pleads falling of his lips. ‘I need you. Need you so bad…’ ‘Please mommy…’ ‘I’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum…’

“Oh yeah? You gonna cum?” You clicked your tongue when he nodded, chuckling at his behavior. “Look at how pathetic you look.” he whimpered when you had made your way back to his side, standing in front of him and making his head fall backwards when you harshly pulled on his hair, making his hips stutter and breathy whines rip his throat. “Hold it. I haven’t even told you where to cum yet.” he cried when you pushed down your thighs your panties. “Fuck, you are too fucking loud.” you said and he had to squeeze his dick to not come when you pushed your damped panties into his mouth, slicked crotch flat against his tongue. His muffled begging only made your pussy wetter, his eyes full of tears that seemed about to fall when he could take a taste on just how sweet you were. He choked on the lace when you startled his legs. His eyes fell just as your free hand did, straight to your core, where your fingers dug on your wet folds and parted them for him to see thin strips of slick connect them and just how swollen your little pink bud was, hidden under its hood. “Here. Cum on my pussy.” you said, leaning on the skin of his neck to suck a hard hickey on his flesh.

You didn’t even had to say it twice, his hand quickly throwing away the fleshlight to cum all over your folds and clit, muffled groans and moans filling the room when his white and heavy gropes painted your core in white, his mind all foggy and pussy drunk just by the simple contact of your cunt on his tip. You hummed as you stroked his hair, open mouth kisses being splattered across his chest. He was still fucking hard. “Good boy…” you cooed, loving just how fucked out he seemed, moaning when you sat on his cock, his length in between your wet folds and his tip bumping against your clit.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck….” he cried out with your panties on his mouth when you rocked your hips against his. That’s all it took for him to cum for a second time, right after his first orgasm.

You moaned, feeling his dick twitch and nails dig on your ass, your pussy sliding too easy due to the amount of his cum that coated it. “You came again, baby?” he nodded, his cock quickly getting hard again to your humping. “Fuck, Spencer…” you pulled your panties away from his mouth, wanting to hear his groans. “Look at you, making a mess of my cunt.”

“Fuck, y/n…” your name sounded so wonderful falling from his lips… “Please, can I… Can I clean it for you? Let me clean it for you, pleasepleaseplease. I’ll make you feel good, I promise, I’ll be good…” you pulled his bottom lip with your thumb, warm skin under your fingertips. “I promise. I promise mommy…” your thumb brushed your own lips when he leaned in, pupils blown and need on his hazel thin irises. He looked high. And he was, high on his favorite drug: you.

You nodded, giving in, and gasped when he had your back pressed against the mattress in just a matter of seconds, lips all over the skin of your neck and exposed collarbones, his hands leaving your hips to bump against the bottom of your tank top, fingers so desperate to see your tits that dug too hard on the piece of clothing enough to tear it up. You moaned when you felt the fabric give out, his hands cupping your exposed breast and biting hickeys on its flesh in between groans, muttering a ‘The prettiest tits I’ve ever seen, fuck.’. You were tugging on his hair as he played with your tits, biting your nipples and teasing you for a couple of minutes before slowly lowering his lips further down on your stomach, bumping with your skirt, which he quickly discarded it away on his bedroom floor. He pulled away to look to your fully naked body, hair messily spread on his pillow —the same he had fucked multiple times while thinking about you—, lips swollen due to constant biting, half-lidded eyes and flushed skin. He moaned, dick twitching, ‘cause you were so goddamn perfect. Perfect for him.

He didn’t waste time in parting your thighs —which he took his time with, and of course he would, he had been dreaming about making them bleed for years now—, leaving open mouth kisses and sucking hard on the skin, making you whimper and tug on his hair. “Spencer…” you whined when he bit down on your flesh, making your back arch at the incredible pleasure the pain inflicted made you feel. He was so drunk on your skin… He could spend his whole life kissing it that he would never get fucking tired of it. But his teasing was making your pussy clench and tingle. You needed his mouth on it now. And he seemed to get it when you pushed him further against it, his hands taking your now fully marked thighs to pull them above his shoulders as he sunk on the mattress, stomach flat against it and fingers gripping at your flesh. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when his tongue pushed in between your covered in cum folds, flattening in a long strip and bumping against your clit. Both of you moaned, him due to just how much he had dreamed about the taste of your pussy —which he had tasted before, but only clothed— and you to how many times you had touched yourself with his mouth in mind. His name falling off your lips on a whimper had his hips rocking against the duvet as he ate you out sweet and slow.

It was only when his fingers found their way to your entrance that he started to eat you just like you needed and he always dreamed of: rough, needy and hungry. You were screaming his name when his fingers pushed inside you, quickly fucking the shit out of you and curving to hit your g spot as his tongue circled your clit. Spencer knew how to use it, really well. So well that he had you tipping the edge in less than ten minutes. He was like a starved man, burying his face in between your thighs unable to get enough of you and your sweet taste, of the mix of the two of you in his tongue. “Fuck, Spencer, I…” you babbled, thighs twitching as you pulled harder on his hair. He knew you were close by how moans fell of those pretty lips of yours over and over again. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum…” you cried out, Spencer crushing your sweet spot with every harsh thrust of his fingers.

He moaned, begging for it. “Please cum on my mouth, mommy. Please, let me have it, please mommy, please…” you whined when his tongue gave just one last stroke to your clit, dissolving in the hardest orgasm you’ve ever had, whimpers against your cunt as Spencer drank every last drop of it all, helping you ride out your orgasm as your sweet moans filled his bedroom.

You mewled when once you’ve come down from your high, his tongue licking you clean as hips rutted on his wet sheets, seconds away from coming when you called from him. He whimpered when you tugged on his hair, pulling him away from your pussy as you sat up. He looked completely gone. Half-lidded eyes unfocused, messy hair due to your tugging, swollen lips and wet chin. “Please, just a little bit more, mommy…” he begged, needing to go back in between your thighs. Needing to taste you and make you cum again on his mouth. ��Please, I need it…” your eyes fell to his twitching and leaking cock, and then, to the dampness of the sheets where he had been rocking against. You clicked your tongue as you took him in your hand, making him gasp.

“I’ll let you choose where to cum next, Spencer.” you said, your other hand coming to his cheek to rub the flush on his skin. “I could let you eat me out again and let you cum all over the sheets all by yourself…” his balls tightened to the thought of it, feeling cold when the hand that cupped his face left him to fall in between your thighs, spreading you open for him to see. “Or you could cum inside of me.” his eyes rolled to the back of his head, hips thrusting into your hand in anticipation. “What do you say, Spence? Where do you want to cum, baby?” he was almost hyperventilating, whimpers falling of his lips as he leaned on you, eyes on your own.

“Inside.” he found himself to mutter, unable to think, not when you were offering him the chance to fuck you raw and fill you up. Just the thought of it had him reeling.

“Oh yeah?” you whispered against his lips, him nodding slightly, bewitched by your minty breath connecting with his own. “You wanna cum inside, hm? Gonna let me use your cock too?” you gave him a sweet smile when he moaned, furiously nodding. Leaving a little peck on the corner of his mouth, you fell backwards on your back once again. “Then come here, Spence.” he was fast to top you, your thighs parting to receive him there, hands on his neck when he leaned in, eyes asking for permission to kiss you, which he didn’t even need since you were now entering your tongue in his mouth, making him groan. Fuck, he could come just with that. With your tongue on his mouth, your body against him and the thought that you were only letting him fuck you to seek your own release. He moaned on your open mouth when you took his dick to align it with your entrance, which twitched at the feeling of his tip. You needed him, and you needed him now. “Fuck, baby, please fuck me Spencer, please, please…” you whimpered, and he didn’t wait to push inside in a deep and fast stroke. You both moaned, foreheads against the other’s as he bottomed out.

“Fuck, so tight, mommy, so tight… Shit. I’m gonna cum.” your head had fallen backwards in gasps, giving him full access to your neck, which he kissed and sucked, leaving new marks. He was so big you felt like splitting in half, but not in a painful way. His stretch had you delirious, his tip brushing against that sweet spot that would make you come in a matter of seconds. Your nails dug on the skin of his back, making him groan. The two of you were taking your time, him getting used to the feeling of your tight and warm walls trying to milk his twitching dick and you to the feeling of his heavy and big cock sitting inside your wet cunt, spreading you to edges you’d only dreamed of getting to. He groaned against your neck when you started to unconsciously rock against him. “Please y/n, can I fuck you now? Let me fuck you mommy, please? I need to… I need to…”

“Go ahead, baby. Be a good boy for me and let me use your cock, alright?” he whimpered at your words, and in less than one second he had you gripping to his back for dear life and losing yourself in between moans. “Oh fuck, yeah Spencer, just like that baby, shit, fuck me, fuck me…”

He was just feral. Thrusting in you with just cumming in mind. His hips were pushing against yours in a hurry, hitting that spot inside of you that had you whimpering as you thrusted yourself on his cock, just as desperate as him. He was too pussy drunk to even kiss you straight, spit dripping down your chin at the messy made out. “Fuck, y/n, mommy, shit, so good, feels so good, fuck, I love it, love your pussy, ah shit, love you mommy, loveyouloveyouloveyou…” he was a mess. Both of you were. His thrusts had you drooling on the pillow, back arched and eyes squeezed shut, too lost in the pleasure, in him. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your release with every new deep and harsh thrust, making your nails dig up on his back, probably leaving marks.

“Fuck, Spencer, fuck, I’m close, shit, I’m gonna cum…” you whimpered on his ear, making him fuck you harder.

“Cum on my cock, mommy, please, please… Use me. Use me…” he begged, and then you could only feel yourself cumming over and over again. It was all too much, but too good at the same time. So good that had your soaked cunt gushing all over his dick as he fucked you dumb, his hands pulling on your nipples and teeth digging so hard on your neck that draw blood. You were seeing fucking stars in the ceiling.

The only thing that you seemed able to coherently form was his name, which you chanted like you sang your favorite summer song. “Spencer, Spencer, Spencer…”

“Shit, Imma cum, I’m cumming so fucking hard… Gonna fill your pussy mommy, gonna…, fuck!” his thrusts became sloppier. “Im gonna cum, i’mcummingi’mcummingi’mcumming.”hips thrusted one, two, three more times before his dick twitched inside of you, filling you so full you choked on air, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when some of it spilled out. He was whimpering ‘mommy’ over and over again in between cries against your neck, thick gropes of cum painting your insides in the purest white.

“Shit, fuck, Spencer. So good…” you moaned, rolling your hips at the feeling of fullness. You were fucked out, brain dead on the cock that had just gave the best sex of your life. You were trying really hard to come down from your high and calm down your breathing. “Spencer!” Though you really couldn’t even do that, since you found your head being hardly pushed against his pillows and back arched with your chest against the duvet when he pulled you up from your ass, his newly hard cock ramming inside of your full of cum pussy. You cried out when his hand came down on one of your cheeks in a hard spank that had you whimpering.

“You didn’t think I was done with you, were you, ‘mommy’?” you could hear the teasing in his voice. “I’m sure you really enjoyed having your way with me, didn’t you?” you couldn’t really comprehend how his mentality had switched so drastically fast, but you were no one to whine about it. If a submissive Spencer had you cumming so hard on his cock, how would a dominant fuck you out? You felt your pussy clench around his dick in anticipation. “Well, I hope you did, ‘cause now is my fucking turn.”

-

i needed to.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Imagine going on adventures with Logan and Deadpool and you’re the voice of reason behind them 😆 Deapool the idiot with hot headed Wolverine that reader has to keep in check all the time

It’s not easy being the only person with common sense in this rag tag trio of yours.

^^ this is literally you babysitting two grown ass men that need to be kept on leashes and separated from one another in case they fight, again.

You are overworked and underpaid to be dealing with this shit, but there was no one else who had the patience for Wade nor the compassion and empathy for Logan as you did.

So unfortunately you were stuck with them for every mission given but despite how vastly different and incompatible some of you were -*cough* Logan and Wade *cough*- you three worked well enough together that you were a force to be reckoned with.

You were forced to face situations where wade would be pissing Logan off to the point his claws were out, and you had to pat the rugged man on his shoulder, wait for him to look at you as you pointed towards his claws;

‘Them. Away. Now.’ -you.

Wolverine: *grunts*

You: don’t give me attitude, put. them. away. Now.

Wade: ohhh Logan’s in trouble!

You would then look at Wade before pointing at him like a disappointed parent: and you, stop pissing him off if you like to keep your dick where it is! Or so help god me I’ll cut it off myself!

Wade: 😶

Wolverine: *smirks and puts the claws away*

You were their voice of reason, their angel on their shoulder, their peace keeper and confidant and they respect you for keeping up with their shit. However it wouldn’t be much like Logan and Wade to make your life easy as you often had to stand between the two as a barrier of sorts to keep them from killing each other.

When in actuality they are flipping each other off behind your back and it wasn’t until Logan slapped wades hand away, causing him to say ‘ow’ did you look between the two of them as they acted like they weren’t acting like children a few moments ago.

You: I’m so sorry you’ll have to excuse them.

*Meanwhile Wade and Logan fighting, stabbing each other in the balls in the background*

You: WOULD YOU TWO STOP FUCKING FIGHTING FOR FIVE MINUTES!!!

Wade and Logan; *immediately stop and point at each other* he started it!

They were the reason you had grey hairs at an early age you swore this to anyone who’d listen. They were a pain in your ass, thorn in your side and a headache waiting to happen but the moment you were threatened, Wade and Logan put aside their differences and acted accordingly by standing protectively in front of you.

Logan: I would shut the fuck up if I were you bub.

Wade: oh look what you did, you made daddy angry.

Logan and you looking at Wade: 🤨😐

You: can you not make everything into a sex joke?

Wade, booping you on the nose; it comes with the territory peanut.

Logan: be serious for fucking once, they’ve just got threatened!

Wade: you don’t think I want our pookie to get hurt? (why do I think he’d say pookie unironically)

You: kill me now and end my misery. Please someone, anyone. Preferably pyro. (He’s hot, literally and figuratively)

Being stuck with Logan and wolverine is a curse and a blessing at the same time, which one you want to focus on more is up to you. However you three were incredibly loyal to each other, even if you do piss each other off from time to time, but you’d never betray one another for it wasn’t an option.

You were stuck with these two whether you liked it or not.

[sutorus]

BAD IDEA RIGHT? BEST FRIEND'S DAD!TOJI for KINKTOBER 2023!

DESCRIPTION: you and megumi are old friends, but a recent development (called growing up) has made you aware of just how hot his dad, toji fushiguro, really is. you sit on your desire for years until one night, you get an idea. 

PAIRING: best friend’s dad!fushiguro toji x reader

WC: 5.1k whoops!

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORDS DNI. fem reader, afab reader, age gap! power dynamics, slight daddy kink, degradation, spit (like a lot it's a Thing here), oral (m! receiving), unprotected relations, slapping, gaping, size difference/size kink, creampie, toji is Nasty and a pretty bad dude lol 

A/N: this is nasty and very descriptive i’m so sorry i really sinned here. anyway enjoy!

you and megumi have been friends since school. after all, it was inevitable that a friendship would form between the only two kids whose parents consistently forgot to pick them up after class. 

nods of acknowledgment quickly developed into trading pokémon cards, sharing samanco waffles, cheating off each other during tests. 

it was the most meaningful relationship you had in your life, the one other person who really got you and the situation you were in, and before you knew it, you two were being admitted to the same college, like you’d talked about all those years ago. 

in the meantime, megumi’s dad had… mellowed out. from what you knew. 

sure, he was still gone for weeks at a time, neglectful, irresponsible and womanizing, but one final falling out with their family seemed to have lifted a big weight off his shoulders, and he became more present in megumi’s life, less resentful. you knew he wasn’t a good guy, but you also knew he was trying, in his own way. 

besides that, you also couldn’t help noticing other things about the man. you first started paying attention when you were in high school, always hanging out at megumi’s place to play video games or study. 

toji would come home sometimes, smelling of smoke and sake, tonguing the scar on the side of his lip. plopping down on their shaggy sofa, legs spread wide, thick thighs straining the fabric of his pants. you would give megumi some excuse about getting something from the kitchen and just watch toji, lazily browsing channels with one hand inside his sweats. 

it wasn’t a big deal. but it never quite went away, your infatuation growing with your desperation the more the man hung around. you did everything you could to get his attention. 

you wore the frilliest, shortest skirts, left dirty dishes on the sink, showed up too late at night drunk and stumbling “looking for megumi”, acting out so you could try to get some reaction out of toji. but he never seemed to give you a second thought, annoyance being the closest thing to an emotion on his face every time your eyes met. 

but you were no quitter. you knew one day you would get what you deserved. maybe not today, but… eventually.

you approach the fushiguro household’s front door, fishing out the extra key megumi had given you from your backpack pocket. you two had a study session today but he’d texted you telling you he’d be late and to just let yourself in, so that’s what you do. 

with a sigh, you set down your laptop on their coffee table and sit down on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. before you can finish getting comfortable, a tall, broad figure is looming over your face and you almost jump out of your skin. 

“what the f—oh my god,” you laugh in embarrassment. “you scared me, fushiguro-san.”

he doesn’t react, his eyes boring into yours. “me? you’re the one breaking into my house.”

you roll your eyes, pulling your legs up below your body. “megumi gave me a key. we’re supposed to study today, do you know where—“

“he’s with that itadori kid. don’t think he’s coming back tonight,” toji moves to sit down on the loveseat, turning the tv on. the old, boxy thing crackles to life, a boat race playing on the screen. toji adjusts his body in attention. “so you can fuck off back home.”

“um,” you start, but nothing else comes out of your mouth. you let your eyes wander all over his lax form, and you can faintly make out his abs below the raggedy shirt he’s wearing. it makes your stomach turn. 

without taking his eyes off the screen, he addresses you again. “you know where the door is.”

an idea starts to form in your head. a really, really bad, tempting idea.

you discreetly take off your sweatshirt, leaving you in just your undershirt, no bra. you hope toji can scent the whiff of perfume you exude when you move, scooting closer to the edge of the sofa. 

“nah, i think i’ll just study here. my parents are home today and they’re too… y’know.”

“not my fuckin’ problem,” he picks at his teeth, spreading his legs wider. your desperation is growing with each second he spends not looking at you. 

you lift up your bag, something clinking inside. it's a bold move, but it's now or never.

“i brought booze. we could just share some and then i’ll go.”

that at least gets a reaction. the man snorts, finally glancing over at you from the corner of his eyes. you instinctively push your chest out, feeling eager. 

“is that what you do with my son under my roof? get shitfaced in the house that i pay for?”

“well i paid for the vodka so i don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you make a point to pull out the bottle from your bag, swinging it around. 

toji’s expression hardens, his jaw clenching. you know he doesn’t like to be challenged, absolutely hates smart mouths. you should be in for a treat. 

“who the hell do you think you’re talking to, kid?” he stands up and snatches the bottle from you, turning it around in his — big, veiny, deliciously calloused — hand and laughing. “vanilla flavored? fuck, you really are a kid.” he says it like the realization excites him. 

you can feel your face flush.

“are you gonna turn down free alcohol, toji?” it’s risky, dropping the honorific. you know he doesn’t like it, can see it in his face, but he doesn’t say anything. 

instead, he unscrews the top with ease and takes a swig, grimacing at the taste. you watch as his throat works, adam’s apple bobbing.

his arms are huge, you can’t imagine he was ever shaped like megumi is nowadays, slender and frail. toji is tall and broad and big, with a permanent 5 o’clock shadow on his defined features. 

he grabs two whiskey glasses and sets them down on the coffee table — no coasters —, pouring some vodka in both of them. it was most definitely not your idea to do straight shots tonight with megumi, but you will not go through the humiliation of asking for a soda to mix it with. 

you’re desperate to have toji view you as the adult you are, no longer megumi’s awkward middle school best friend. you know you’ve grown up well; all you need is for toji to see it too. 

you drink in silence for a bit, the only noises coming from toji being his disappointed grunts as the boats he bet on fall behind. you type away at your laptop, not really being able to focus with the heat rising within you. 

he refills both your cups a couple more times, but makes no effort to talk.

you slowly but surely start to get antsy, your determination wavering and giving way to a funny feeling one can only experience by drinking with their best friend’s dad who they’ve wanted to fuck for like, ever. 

so you bite the bullet and with the liquid courage flowing in your veins, you strike up conversation. 

“y’know, toji, i’ve always wanted to ask,” his head lolls on his shoulder to look at you lazily and disinterested. “what happened to megumi’s mom? he doesn’t talk about it.”

“yeah, well. me either,” toji replies. you take a deep breath. 

“you’re gone a lot. megumi is alone a lot.”

toji scoffs.

“thought that was what you were here for, hmm? megumi’s done well for himself,” he finally, probably for the first time in your life, gives you a proper look over, his eyes traveling all over your frame, tucked into the armrest of the couch. “scored himself a nice little bitch.”

you let out a strangled noise. you’re fighting laughter when you exclaim, “i’m sorry?! you think megumi and i have a—like, a thing?”

toji just shrugs, stretching one leg out in front of him. “i figured. why else would you loiter around my house so much?”

oh, if he only knew. 

“no, no. it’s never been like that. megumi’s not really my type.” toji hums inquisitively, and you take that as a sign to continue. “i’m into more… mature guys.”

toji eyes you knowingly, but seemingly amused. 

“that right?” you nod. “fuckin’ kid like you even know what to do with a man?”

you raise an eyebrow. you’re a sophomore in college, well into your twenties. he can’t be serious. “surely you know i’m not a kid anymore. surely you d—“

“surely my ass,” he exclaims and oh, he’s a little terrifying like this. toji downs however much was left in his cup and turns to you, pointing with the hand holding his glass. “you’re a full of shit, foul mouthed, rude brat. get the fuck out of my house, you’re pissing me off.”

you’re used to toji’s outbursts, not because you know him well but because every time you see him, seldom as it is, he always loses his temper, sooner or later. 

“i think,” you take another sip, feeling loose. “your old ass wouldn’t be able to handle sex. like, actual sex, not those rich hags you who just lay there for you and give you money in the end. if you had to put in any real work i bet your heart would give out you slimey pi—“

you can’t finish your sentence because you can’t breathe, suddenly. your eyes widen, chest spasming as your oxygen gets cut off mid-sentence. toji has one of his huge palms covering your nose and mouth.

you look up at him with watery eyes but he’s not looking back, he’s chugging vodka straight from the bottle again.

he puffs his cheeks and moves his hand to cup your jaw, smirking around a mouthful of alcohol. 

you catch your breath quickly, the hand that was clawing at his falling limply on your lap. toji holds your face, his grip unforgiving as he leans over you. his form is so, so much bigger than yours, towering over you completely, and all you can do is look up at him with a blank expression. 

his thumb pries your mouth open with ease, the digit hooking behind your bottom teeth as toji’s face gets closer and closer. on instinct, you close your eyes. 

soon, hot, stinging liquid is pouring steadily into your mouth. toji swishes the rest of the vodka between his cheeks — on purpose, you’re sure — before spitting it directly on your tongue.

it’s disgusting, everything about it makes your stomach churn, but it also makes you squeeze your legs together, chest rising and falling rapidly as you swallow without having to be told to. 

“ya talk too fuckin’ much, brat,” he grumbles. ironically, you’re at a loss for words. “someone needs put you in your place already.”

“you,” your voice cracks and nearly fails you, but you’re determined. it surprises him, that you’d have something to say. that you’re still game. you can see it in his face, in the way his hands come off of you. “i want you to.”

toji’s expression is hard and unchanging. his fingers go back to your face, two of them slipping inside your lax lips.

your breath stutters as you inhale, instinctively sucking the digits and working your tongue around them.

toji grabs his cock through his pants pointedly.

“fuckin’ slut… that what you want?” you nod. he takes a step forward, knees hitting the couch. “is that why you walk around my house looking like a fucking whore?”

a whine dies in your throat at the sweet, sweet recognition.

he noticed.

he noticed and it bothered him and you really couldn’t bring yourself to care that he was your best friend’s father right now because he was tenting his sweatpants and your mouth was watering at the sight. 

“please…” you paw at his waistband, pulling on the drawstrings. toji laughs at your desperation, voice growing gruff. 

he buries a hand in your hair, fingers closing around your locks tightly and making your eyes sting with tears. slowly, he pushes your face into his crotch, so close that you can feel it pulsing, can feel every ridge, can feel that he’s not wearing any underwear.

god, you can smell him, and it makes your head spin, your mouth huffing out hot breaths and wetting the front of his pants. 

you hook your fingers in the back of his sweats and pull until they’re down tight around his thighs. you have to maneuver the fabric over the head of his erection, earning a hiss from the man towering over you.

his dick springs up, slapping you in the face and leaving a smear of pre across the bridge of your nose. you think toji snorts at that but you can’t be sure. you’re too mesmerized.

he’s so, so big, the skin darker and flushed, tight, heavy balls and the head, angry red, peeking out from the foreskin.

your throat goes dry at the thought of it inside of you, inside any of your holes, because you know it’ll destroy you forever. and you want it. 

toji doesn’t have the appeal that most men his age do to most girls your age. he doesn’t make you feel safe, he doesn’t offer financial support, he doesn’t care about your well-being, he doesn’t have his shit together. and to make matters worse to you, he’s your best friend’s dad, who your best friend doesn’t even like that much, whose presence has been totally indifferent to megumi for most of his life. 

it makes you burn in shame to know you’re about to have a man 25 years your senior in your mouth.

you readjust your position on the couch so that you’re sitting on your knees, angling your face with his cock. it’s curved, pointing up, and you wonder how much of it he’s gonna wanna stuff down your throat. judging by the pure evil glinting in his eyes, it’s gonna be as much as possible. 

you take a deep breath, steadying a hand around his length. it’s concerning that you can just barely close your fingers around him, but you put that thought aside to focus on pulling the skin down gently so you can wrap your lips around the tip. 

toji sighs in relief, his grip in your hair tightening.

you begin to work your head up and down, licking the underside of his cock to gather up saliva. 

“thaaat’s it, what a good little bitch. got a sweet little mouth on ya,” he whispers, hips thrusting slightly to work his cock further into your mouth. “yer gonna take all of it? or are ya all talk?”

you whine, gripping the base and sliding further down his length. he’s already hitting the back of your throat, making your eyes water and your stomach seize. you pick up the pace, twisting your wrist rhythmically as you suck him. 

“don’t swallow,” he threatens, forcing his cock deeper into you, the head sliding into the opening of your throat. “lemme see how messy this slutty face can get.”

you choke audibly, eyes smarting with tears, makeup smudging. you look up at him with furrowed brows in a silent plea of mercy. 

toji’s having none of it.

he puts one foot down on the sofa, next to your legs, giving himself the leverage to start fully fucking your face now. he wraps both hands around your throat and thrusts his hips violently into your mouth, his thumbs pressing down to feel his length in your throat. 

“ahh, fuck,” he throws his head back, reveling in your desperate gurgles. you feel like a fucking ragdoll, like a fleshlight, unable to control the noises you make or how much dick you take. “takin’ me so well. who taught you to squeeze your throat like that, huh? so fuckin’ slutty.” 

you sob around his cock, nose buried in his pubes. he’s impossibly hard, impossibly wet as thick strings of spit and pre hang from your lips, dripping down to his balls, falling to the floor.

toji keeps fucking your throat relentlessly, granting you mere seconds between thrusts to inhale a desperate breath that immediately starts to burn in your lungs. 

he’s a fucking sight though, above you. chin tucked into his chest, veins bulging and biceps flexed, nostrils flared as he watches you devour him. 

he pulls out suddenly, leaving you choking for air. tears stream down your face, spit bubbling out of your nostril. you look all wrong, like you’d been put back together by someone after being utterly demolished.

“open your mouth,” toji orders. you obey and he grabs his cock, slapping the head against your tongue a few times. he slides his length in and out for a bit before he starts jerking himself off. “suck my balls.” 

you take that moment to swallow down the saliva that had pooled between your teeth, tucking away the wet strands of hair that frame your face.

toji’s lifting his cock towards his belly, fisting the head and flicking his wrist. he looks at you expectantly, and you understand it’s time to prove yourself once again. 

you place a gente thumb right below his shaft, where his sack hangs. your tongue dips in between his balls, shyly at first, just slightly tracing the shape of them before you pop one into your mouth. 

toji groans, the hand on his cock gaining speed. you squeeze your thighs together; you’re so wet that it makes you uncomfortable. you lean forward on your knees, steadying yourself with your palms planted firmly on his thighs. 

you’re sucking his balls earnestly now , one then the other, then both at the same time, angling your head up and working your tongue up and down the wrinkled skin.

toji’s loving it, maybe more than the blowjob, and it makes you feel like a toy all over again, in an even more humiliating way because now you’re not even allowed to touch his cock, he’s just getting to use your mouth anywhere he wants. 

it’s so fucking hot that it makes you dizzy. you hollow your cheeks, giving his nutsack a good suck before gingerly lifting his balls. you sneak a glance up at toji, hoping to catch him by surprise when your tongue dips even lower, approaching some pretty controversial territory. 

it works. his breath catches in his throat and his knee kicks out instinctively.

he grabs your hair immediately, pulling you away from him. 

“fuck,” you look up at him smirking, lips smeared with saliva and snort. but you don’t even care how debauched you look right now, as long as you can keep the upper hand. “you’re a nasty little bitch, aren’t ya?”

he leans down to kiss you deeply, messily, inhaling loudly through his nose. toji finishes stepping out of his sweatpants and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing what you’d been imagining for so many years. 

you run your hands over his chest, his abs, down his hips, his v-line. he’s so fucking hot, got bulging muscles you didn’t even know existed in the human body, and scars you can’t even fathom the origin of. 

he stares at you, looking bored. “get up.”

you do, legs shaking and prickling with pins and needles. now you can fully feel the scope of your arousal, how your panties stick to your core uncomfortably, how the wet tops of your thighs rub together. 

toji sits down on the sofa and you waste no time getting on his lap, clawing at his chest and leaning in for another kiss. he’s unforgiving even like this, so much bigger than you, his hand on the back of your neck and his mouth on yours. 

“arms up,” and when you comply, he’s pulling your tank top off. “good girl.”

you shiver, instinctively wrapping an arm around yourself. toji tsks at that, easily taking both your wrists in one hand and pinning them behind your back. he grabs your tit with the other, popping as much of it as he can in his mouth. 

you groan, fighting against his grip to get your hands on his hair, his shoulders, anywhere. toji relentlessly sucks on your nipple, nibbling and circling it with his tongue.

when he pulls off, he lands a swift slap across your boob, ripping a groan from you. 

“such a good fuckin’ slut, look at that body.”

he slaps your ass, this time, tugging your shorts over your butt. you help him get it off of you and then, finally, you’re straddling toji’s cock, no layers in between you two, just your dripping core on him. 

you think, belatedly, condom, but then toji is pulling you in for another kiss and for all you know megumi could come home any minute and you wouldn’t want to waste time like that. or so you tell yourself. 

his hands guide your hips to grind over him, soft mewls coming out of you and being buried into the crook of his neck. 

“pretty little girl, gonna ride me? hmm? gonna ride this old man’s cock?” you whine, nodding.

you press your front against his so you can lift your ass up and guide the tip into your entrance. you don’t expect to be able to take it all, but at least like this you can control the pace and how much of it is going into you, the only thing keeping you from panicking at the sheer size of him. 

the head of toji’s cock doesn’t slip inside so much as it pops inside, the ridge locking just past your opening.

it’s too big, and even though you’re soaking wet, it’s still a stretch. you both groan in unison and you realize, this is it. this is your fantasy, you’re fucking toji fushiguro, megumi’s dad, your best friend’s dad. 

your legs tremble as you hold yourself up, too soon to sink down more on his cock. toji’s playing with your nipples but you have a sneaking suspicion his patience isn’t going to last much longer. 

you give it a valiant effort to take more in and it feels like being ripped in two. you clench your jaw, a bead of sweat rolling down your temple. 

“fuuuuck, so fuckin’ tight,” toji spreads your ass cheeks with both hands, rubbing the thin skin where you two are connected. he thrusts up, feeding your poor pussy more of his cock, and you let out a scream. “take it, c’mon.”

“unghh—can’t, toji, hang on—“

“‘course ya can,” he fucks up into you again and you sob, nails raking down his chest. he hisses and slaps your ass in punishment. you realize you might really cry.

“i can’t, it’s too big, too much—“

“shhh,” in an uncharacteristic display of affection, toji kisses the furrow between your brows, snaking a thumb between you two to rub your clit. 

you throw your head back, body torn between seeking more pleasure and running from the pain. you can hear how wet you are as toji fucks in and out of you, your plush walls hugging him so well, weeping around him. 

he speeds up and you bury your face in his chest, moaning wantonly into his skin. toji lets out staccato grunts, working his cock further into you with each thrust. 

“any scrubs your age givin’ it to you like this?” he breathes out, grabbing your ass hard and moving it up and down his length for you. you whine, drooling on him. “yeah, that’s right. fuck, take it, that’s a good girl.”

“ahh, toji—“

“that’s not my name, whore,” he fists your hair and drags your head back until your eyes meet. “try again.”

“fushiguro-san—“ that earns you a hard slap on your ass. you yelp — wrong answer. 

“toji-sama—“ another slap, and this time he grips the reddening flesh viciously. you whine, squirming in his grip. 

“little braindead cumslut,” he wipes a tear with his thumb. “who’s fucking this tight pussy right now? huh? tell me who's ruining this slutty cunt.”

“d—daddy?” 

toji smiles, humming, his grip on you softening as he leans in for a kiss. “that’s right, sweetheart. show daddy how much you want it.”

it’s amusing to toji, you know it. he just wants to humiliate you because he’s aware of how badly you’ve wanted this. but it does something to you, it’s serious to you, it’s so fucking depraved and sexy to you. 

he lifts you up with ease and lays you back down on the couch. you feel so empty suddenly that it makes you want to cry, like toji has already carved a home inside of you for his cock that no one else will ever be able to fill. 

he wastes no time getting on top of you, hooking a hand under your leg and lifting it up onto his shoulder. your eyes widen immediately, a protest dying in your tongue. this position… his cock… it’s, god, it’s gonna be—

toji plunges in in one violent, perfunctory thrust. you let out a scream, your heel kicking toji square in the back as your body rises up from the couch. he’s all the way inside now. 

you can feel him bruising your cervix, his balls, wet with a mixture of the two of you, slapping against your ass, his hip bones drilling into you. 

“you’re so deep,” you look at him with panic in your eyes, chest gone cold at the overwhelming pleasure. “you’re so deep.”

toji laughs, pulling out to spit on his cock. he grabs your ankle and sets it on his shoulder. “yeah, baby, daddy’s all the way inside now. feels good, doesn’t it?” 

“fuck. oh fuck,” you let out shaky breaths, allowing toji to lay more of his weight on top of you. your knee is by your head now and somehow in this position his cock seems to hit even deeper, to curve up exactly in the right spots that have you struggling to breathe. “you’re gonna break me.” 

“takin’ me so well. just a natural slut aren’t ya,” he’s fucking you so fast now, wet, slapping sounds resounding across the whole house. 

there’s a thick creamy ring at the base of his cock, frothy and bubbly with how much you’ve been gushing for him. toji presses a thumb against your clit and rubs tight little circles, making you squeeze against him like a vice. 

he grunts, speeding up his movements.

“so sensitive, this cute little pussy. you a virgin?” he slaps it a few times, your wetness sticking to his fingers with every pat. “gonna cum soon, whore?”

you whine, nodding. you wrap both arms around toji’s neck and pull him closer, open mouth awaiting expectantly.

toji grins, spitting onto your tongue before leaning in to suck it. 

“toj—daddy,” you moan against his mouth, “daddy, i’m close.”

you don’t recognize your own voice. it’s slutty, desperate, pitchy, juvenile. it's too far gone.

toji works your clit over and over again, fucking you harder than you’ve ever been fucked. he splays a hand over your stomach, kneading the place where his cock is nestled inside of you and hitting a spot that makes you lose control of your body and words. 

“ah, ah, ah, oh god toji fuck daddy make me cum, please please can i cum—“

“oh, fuck,” his thrusts start to become erratic and you know he’s close too. you clench around him, one leg wrapping around his hips to make sure he stays inside until you're done. “cum on daddy’s cock, come on. make a mess, little girl.”

you throw your head back, burying it into the pillows as your entire body thrashes with your orgasm. you clamp around him so hard that you can't even tell where he ends and you begin. 

toji takes no mercy on you, his messy cock plunging in and out of you fast. 

“gonna fill up this pretty pussy, yeah?” you shake your head desperately, one hand punching his chest. he can’t finish inside of you, right? but why do you want it so bad? “no no no, don’t fuss now baby. you want daddy’s cum inside you, don’t you? wanna give megumi a baby brother? fuck yeah i know you do fuckin' take it whore fuuuuck, fuck i'm coming—”

he thrusts once, twice, three more times, knocking all air out of your lungs and the most ridiculous moans out of your mouth before he’s spilling into you, locking your legs like a fucking pretzel and biting down your neck. 

you can feel it pulsing, spurting inside of you. you can feel both your heartbeats in your abused cunt, both of your juices combined and oozing out of you. 

once you catch your breath, toji pulls out of you languidly, with a yawn. you two made a fucking mess, a sticky puddle on the couch right below your ass. 

toji eyes it disinterestedly, much like how he’s eyeing you right now. your sweaty, messy, fucked out self, nearly melting on the fushiguro household’s sofa. 

“ah. are ya on the pill or what?” he asks, like he just now remembered. after a few seconds you nod, a little incredulous. “heh. good.”

you slowly sit up, reaching for your sweatshirt to at least cover yourself up. you sneak a hand down to your cunt, fingers sliding through the mess there to dip inside you. 

fuck, you’re gaping. toji well and truly ruined your pussy. it makes you panic a little bit, but it also makes pride swell within your chest, knowing you took it, all of it. 

toji finally addresses you. 

“i’m gonna go take a shower,” he looks behind his shoulder, sighing. he points at you. “we left the fuckin’ tv on. if this shit racks up my bills you’re gonna have to pay me back.”

you guffaw. “me? pay you how?”

he smirks. 

“got one more hole i haven’t wrecked yet, dont’cha?” he flicks your forehead. you just sit there, incredulous, trembling legs, halfway to horny again. from the bathroom, toji calls out, “let yourself out. oh, and leave the vodka.”

A/N: lmfao! i got nothin to say in my defense. reblogs r very much appreciated

[yeyinde]

when your need grows teeth | John Price x f!Reader

John's the type of man to lock his jaws around what's his, preferring instead to ruin things, puncture it full of holes, and litter it with scars, rather than let it go. It starts when you ask him to pick up your birth control—like dangling a piece of bloody meat in front of a starving dog.  Of course he's going to take a bite.  He thinks you ought to have known this by now. 

SMUT 18+ | gratuitous smut; HEAVY breeding kink, breeding; Dom!John Price; p-in-v sex, unsafe sex; rough sex; mentions of spanking; mutual manipulation; this is roughly 10k of John Plotting and fucking you; John is: unhinged, obsessive, possessive, and Scheming. mentions of birth control tampering but nothing is followed through. No. He’s going to knock you up the old-fashioned way—by making you beg for it.

AO3 MIRROR

John has always had this desire—this awful, instinctual drive in the back of his head to knock someone up. Get them fat, swollen with his child. His. 

And maybe that's the crux of it. Possession. To have something of the most rooted kind. To irrevocably change someone—their anatomy, their body, the chemistry in their brain, their status in life from them (single no dependents) to mother (mother of his child), their very atoms—and create life from the combined parts. 

It's this almost fantastical beast, this unreachable dream for him. 

It's his Shangri-la. His castle in Spain. 

He's not under any disillusionment that this idea of fatherhood, of parenthood, is slightly skewed. That most men who want children don't feel this overwhelmingly greedy desire to fundamentally alter someone in such an irreversible way. It's not quite ownership, but it's the same ilk. A bastardised, unwanted child of it. 

And it's not just this idea of claimation—to forever be the father of their child, even if neither of them stays together; a piece of him will always be there, parasitic, no matter what—but something deeper. Something a bit less—egregious. 

This is, and always has been, about yearning. 

John's the type of man to lock his jaws around what's his, preferring instead to ruin things, puncture it full of holes, and litter it with scars, rather than to let it go. 

Marriage, he finds, is breakable. Divorce, separation. He's always on his worst behaviour in the initial stages of dating, so it's never something he has to entertain since no one ever sticks around long enough for it to be on the table, much less the menu, but the idea of it—of signing papers, of hashing out the split, of being known as ex-husband—leaves a bitter tang between his teeth. It won't do. He needs permanence. Perpetuity. 

Nothing says forever quite like a child, does it? 

And sure—he’s aware that countermeasures exist: custody orders, sole custody, shared; allotted visitations; divisional lines in this new age that keep the parents from ever interacting—but while you can get divorced, you can't unmake a child, can you?

The child would never write him out, either. 

Where deadbeats exist, it's important to note that their counterparts do, too. The ones like him who will gouge their eyes out of their skulls before they ever let what happened to them growing up trickle down and impact their child, polluting the pool. 

Simply put: John Price knows he'd be the best dad there is because he's stubborn that way. 

It helps, he supposes, that he really only has so much love to give out to the world, and greedily, he stashed the entirety of it away in a box to give to his would-be wife and their child. An overwhelming deluge that promises happiness should it ever be unlocked. Pandora's box, perhaps—down to the very essence because if John Price were to ever love someone, then it's probably in their best interest to run from it, this gaping, needy chasm. 

Not that it would ever be a possibility, of course—he’s much too good at compartmentalisation, in taking out his anger, his viciousness, on the ugly world he drenches himself in, the one his hands have a tangible cause and effect principle in place that will forever feed that starving beast inside of him.

Ergo—he’s a staunch supporter of the theory: happy wife, happy life. Though where those men think in a box stuffed full of emotional intimacy, flowers, chocolate, maintaining love, all-consuming and enduring, he takes it to extremes that would have them cowering a little bit. Maybe a lot.  

But that's fine. He only has to make sure his family is happy. No one else matters, save a select few who have a seat at his table during Sunday dinners. 

The rest, though? Spare parts. 

(The ice-cold resolve in those two words is apodictic, brass bound, and he's sure if his higher-ups knew about it, well—

His chest candy would be a hole in the ground. Put the rabid dog down before it has a chance to bite.)

But that all-consuming, devouring, obsessive love he has to give, that begs to be let free, is the reason why it's so tightly leashed. Locked up in a box. Untouchable. Inaccessible. 

It's why he isn't married. 

Ghost once asked him why the women he dated were older. Much older. Menopausal (always). And he'd said something to the effect of it being his type. Older women who wouldn't cower away from the acrid burn of him, who wouldn't hurt their delicate little hands on his gritty surface. 

But the real reason is because he knows better. 

He's a starving dog, and it's just bad form to dangle a piece of meat in front of it. Especially when the hand holding it is his own. 

Don't bite the hand that feeds you, and all. 

(The keen look in Ghost's eyes told him that, perhaps, the man already knew the reason when he asked, and was just satiating himself with kinship—the dark, awful look on Simon's ugly mug after the dredging the underbelly of Price’s rotten, mouldering mudfloor of things unsaid spoke volumes. 

They'd both nodded. Content, then. And promptly ordered a shot of whisky to drown the salivation, the hunger, from clogging their throats. Killing the urge to bite.

A pair of packless, stray dogs.)

But then he found you, and all his careful planning, all his distance, blew up in his face. 

It's always been on his mind since then. Lingering in his periphery—this fevered, tantalising vision of you, round and swollen with his child. 

It's unattainable, of course. A fantasy. 

Though, this—you throwing up in the washroom of his penthouse, undoubtedly knocked up by his machinations—is probably because he kept that desire too close to where he hides his questionable mortality, the one that allows him to throw innocent people to their deaths, and send mothers and fathers to an early grave just so he can rip his fists apart on their bastard offspring in his own brand of catharsis that always bites back when they grow up, hankering for revenge. 

He's always been good at snatching dreams out of the air, clenching them tight in his fists. Taming chimerical wants, whims, until they were docile, domesticated. Making realities out of fiction. 

And really—he’s just not a good man.

He thought you'd have known this by now.

He remembers the first time he growled the words into your ear as he came, your cunt clenching around him like a vice. Desperate for it, he teased after, fingers fucking into your sloppy, leaking hole. Pushing his spend back into you. Half-drunk on the taste of you still clinging to his beard, but mostly just mesmerised by the sight of you—pretty pussy all ruined, swollen from the vicious, hateful pounding he gave it, and dipping with his cum like a faucet. 

(It pissed him off—still does, really—when you waste it like this.)

Gonna fill you up, he snarled, low and wrecked. Gonna make it take—

It was a fantasy. Still is. But the way it took root in the garden of your bedroom, like it belonged—native flora, he thinks, a touch mad with it—had something ugly, oil slick, rearing up from that untouchable place in his head. 

He could really blame you for it—and does. The way your ankles locked tight around his thighs, hands reaching, grabbing at his waist, clawing at his asscheeks to press him in deeper, deeper still, as he came inside of you, cock lodged right against your plug, had that untameable beast cocking its head in consideration after you danced too close to it, waking it from his long, restful slumber. 

You wanted it. Ached for it. He could feel it in the way your walls tightened around him, practically starving for it. Your pretty, glossy eyes rolling back into your head. Drool running down your chin. A litany of pleas spilled from your kiss-bruised lips, begging him for it. Please, John. Please. Please—

Who was he to deny you? 

Even if you made a big, flustered show of waving it off—not something I've ever imagined for myself, you know? and–and your lifestyle, what you do—is something like that even possible for us?—he saw how it curled around your shoulders, dipping its silver tongue into your ear. Germinating. 

He let it. Encouraged it. 

“Something to talk about later,” he indulged, reaching over for a cigar just to smother the urge to breed you stupid. To tie you to his bedposts and keep you full until your belly was swelling with more than just the absurd volume of his seed he pumped inside of you. 

And, oh—

The uneasy smile on your face reeked of disappointment. 

Fuck. Fuck—

John went to the washroom after that, heart pounding out of his chest, and jabbed the lit end of his cigar into his thigh to kill the fever in his veins. To rewrite the desperate, ugly howling in his head with pain instead. 

It worked. Works—

Until you came to him, all watery-eyed and worried, and told him to please, please stop falling asleep with a lit cigar because you think you might just go mad if you lost him to a cigarette fire. And doesn't he see how silly it is, these burns look so bad, John, and I worry—

His teeth ached. He smiled, but it felt like a grimace. A dog holding back the instinct to bare its teeth. 

“Sure, love,” he'd said, and started taking out his anger on your cunt instead, fucking you deep, and stupid. Getting you all cockdrunk, and hungry for the dream that spoiled so badly in the back of his head, he's sure a proper man would call it a nightmare. “Anything you want.”

(Brassbound. Apodictic. You know that, he knows you know that, so imagine his surprise when you come to him, all soft and tender, and ask him to pick up your birth control as if he hadn't spent the better part of two years grumbling every fucking time you took it and wasn't on the verge of tossing the damn bottle out the window, and fucking you until it took—

But—you do know that, don't you? 

Well, then. Whatever his lady wants, right? Right.)

“Can you stop by the pharmacy on your way home tonight?”

He hums, fiddling with the belt of his slacks in front of the mirror. “Sure, love. You feelin’ sick?” 

“No,” you murmur, sliding behind him on your way to the washroom, wearing nothing but a towel tucked under your arms. “I need my refill. For birth control.” 

His hands still. A gnarled, rotted tendril curls over the edge of the cesspool, murky, ink black water splashing all over the place. “Oh, yeah? Still taking that, hm?”

You fluster. Hands waving, chock full of nervous, emotive energy you can't seem to shake off. “Well—yes. I mean, obviously.”

And he'd leave it there, let the spillage dry on the hot pavement, if you hadn't glanced back at him, all damp keenness, slightly skittish, and asked, feather-soft and utterly fragile, “right?” 

Right? A question, he notes. Not a statement. 

He licks his teeth. Tastes something rancid in the gaps. 

“Mm. I suppose so.” He leaves it vague, but drenches it in the heavy weight of his disappointment. Anchors dragging it down. You flit around the space like a house-locked bird, slamming into the walls and ceiling as you try—blind and panicked—to find an escape. Any escape. 

He finds the whole thing utterly charming. Especially when you realise he pitched himself in front of the only exit, thick, heavy hands curled around his belt, cock outlined against his slacks, already thickened, drooling in his pants. 

There's gasp—wet, and sharp—as you take him in. The liquid of his eyes as his want bleeds out of his skull. The flush on his cheeks, the twitch of his cock at the mere mention of you not taking your silly little pills. 

John lets it sit for a moment, taking in greedy lungfuls of your unease as you glance everywhere but at him, as if looking in his direction, breathing in this toxic miasma will give you a contact high. Infectious. Gnarled. 

The little seed that started germinating blooms. 

He fights back the urge to grin, all teeth. Madness staining them black. 

“It's—it’s on—” and fuck, he's never seen you so unsure before, this nervous. You handle him like a wrangler, wrassling his brutish dominance until it's putty in your hands, splitting his head into pieces and galvanising the madness inside until it's scripture for you to peek at whenever you need guidance, insight into him, his essence, his being. 

Your dyadic has always been built on permeance. 

John doesn't think there's a single person alive who understands him as much as you do. The only person who seems content to gorge yourself on his rotted marrow like it was a delicacy. 

Seeing you like this rents his resolve in two. 

“It's the pharmacy near the, uh, the school. The kindergarten.” 

He chokes on a groan, and thinks he tears something in his throat with the strain of keeping it down. There's blood, ash, in the back of his throat.

“Alright, love. I'll pick it up.” 

You smell it, and shiver. 

It's giving meat to a starving dog, and saying, dog, don't take a bite. 

And so, of course he does. 

John picks up your prescription, tossing it in the passenger seat like it personally offended him. And it has. Does. It's what's standing in the way between what he wants, what he craves, and there's a distinct thrum of irritation welling inside of him. One that started when he had to bark out your name at the counter earlier, and the pharmacist looked at him, and calmly, kindly, explained what it was he was picking up. 

Make sure she takes them once a day. Preferably at the same time. This brand of oral contraceptive can be taken with or without food—

Fuck off, he thought—thinks, even now, glowering into the tinted window of the pharmacy. 

He grips the steering wheel tight until his scarred knuckles bleach white under the strain, and sits in the parking lot, staring, unseeingly, at the shops. Pensive. Thoughtful. It gnarls over his expression until he's the picture of that grizzly-like intensity you often accuse him of. All furrowed brows and a pinched, angry twist to his lips. 

There's a series of complex equations running laps in his head. He's no stranger to this process, needing to make life or death decisions in less time it takes someone to snap their fingers, or tentatively stammer out his title. 

This one is more linear than the rest. One plus one, so to speak. But the weight of it is profound. Heavier, even, than deciding between the success of his mission and the life of an innocent bystander. 

(But he thinks he's just selfish like that.)

In his head, he debates the ethics of replacing all of these silly little tablets that stand in his way with sugar pills. 

It would be the quickest path to the end, but the risk-reward ratio ebbs and flows the more he considers things without the miasmic influence of that abomination throwing itself at the walls of its enclosure, howling in an endless cacophony of do it, do itdoit—

A better man wouldn't even have such a temptation. He supposes that's what you deserve, but he already had this particular crisis a few months after he met you, and realised that the things he wanted to do to you would undoubtedly put him on a list. Slapped so hard with a restraining order, his ears would still be buzzing. 

That something about you made his jowls twinge, and his teeth ache, and no amount of stay away from her, Price; she deserves better than you was going to keep his dirty hands from curling around your throat, leaving soot-stains on your skin in the shape of his fingerprints. Brandishing ownership in burst blood vessels; a pretty collar for you to wear because as much as you like to pretend otherwise—

You're a dog just like him. 

In any case, he's the best choice for you. The only one who'd burn the world just to keep you warm, and that's what you really need. Protection. 

And fuck—you toy with that particular urge that has always been etched in fine lines within the walls of bones; dipping your fingers into it, and spreading it over the apples of your cheek. Everything about you prickles along his hindbrain. Renders him from a modern man with modern ideals to an animal who can only speak in growls, snarls; pure primalism, all instinct. 

You're made for each other down to the bone. He's sure he could split your head apart and find that your cranial sutures are perfectly mirrored. Made in the same image: you were grown from his missing rib, and he always meant to be cradled in the brackets of your thighs. 

So, crisis of worthiness aside—because there are none, not anymore—he plots. Plans. Schemes. But his machinations keep catching on the soft fibrils of your wants. 

John doesn't know what he'd do if you changed your mind. 

(Or, rather, he does but that's another madness to unravel with his personal therapist.)

It's with this—the slight brandishing of his uncertainty in your certainty—that he gives up the idea, pocketing it for a later date, and drives home, back to you. 

He doesn't toss the bag on the counter, but sets it up perfectly, placing it as close to the edge where the bin sits under it. All it would take is a breath of wind for it to fall into the trash. 

That doesn't happen, though. You stare at the white, crinkled package for a moment as he sips on his tea, quietly contemplative. With your expression hidden from him, he has no idea what might be going through that pretty head of yours. Disappointment, he can only hope. And then you're reaching for it, fingers gripping the bag tightly in your fist. He hears the paper crumble. It sparks something inside his chest. A bloom of hope that you might just throw it out. Toss it in the bin—

You turn to him instead, knuckles white. 

“Thanks,” you say, and the matter is dropped. 

He goes to tuck that want back where it escaped, leaving slick trails of putrefying rot behind, but—

John peeks in the vanity later that evening, but where he expects to see the little rectangular package sitting in its usual spot between his aftershave and the mouthwash, he finds nothing. Just an empty spot on the ledge, spotlit by the lack of dust. A clean square of white paint, undisturbed. 

His jaw twinges. He wonders if you're hiding it from him, keeping it safe from his machinations, but then he finds it shoved in the drawer with his shaving kit, and the box of condoms he bought when you'd first started dating (for show, naturally—John had no intentions of using them and learned persuasion was your Achilles heel; that and you tended to get a little glossy-eyed whenever he growled filth in your ear, the smell of your cunt heavy on his breath). 

The package is crinkled like you squeezed it tight in your little fist before you tossed it in. 

You're always meticulous in the way you put things in their places. Even the junk drawer is organised, all neat. 

This speaks volumes, but he's not quite sure what it says. They are still here, though. Accessible. One is missing from the pack. It dampens his mood. 

He picks up his toothbrush, and runs through those calculations again to see how he can convince you to skip the one you're meant to take tomorrow. And the next day, and the next, and the next—

He stays awake as you sleep beside him, looking into how many days you can miss before your brand of birth control stops being effective. 

Seven pills in a row. 

He files it away, lost in thought. 

The next morning, he leaves his phone open on the bedside table with the article pulled up. He kisses you awake before he leaves to shower, humming something soft under his breath. 

When he returns, he finds you sitting up in bed with your knees drawn to your chest. There's something pensive about the look on your face. Paper soft, as though it would all blow away at a mere whisper. 

You regard him almost cooly but something raw, fractured splits over the ravine. A waterfall of midnight black sludge rains down. 

(He wonders if it tastes of the same rot, the same madness, as the basin of the untouched recesses of his head—)

“I'm working late tonight,” you murmur after a measured beat, and he can't place your tone. “Maybe we can watch a movie when I get home.” 

John nods, and your eyes drop, scaling down his bare, broad chest as he breathes in the flint staining the air. Your gaze is white-hot when it bludgeons into him, feverish. 

It doesn't take much beckoning at all to have him crawling toward you, towel ripped from his hips and thrown somewhere in the aether. 

As he steals the madness from your tongue, his eyes flicker to the phone still sitting on the table. It looks perfectly untouched. The screen is off. 

That, too, he files away. 

John comes to the succinct conclusion that the only means he has in his arsenal to get what he wants—legally, and somewhat morally, anyway—is persuasion. 

There's no recourse if he can water that burgeoning plant inside of you, make it seem like this is something you want, too. A family. With him. 

(Only him.)

He knows that you see things quite similarly to him. Wherein love is desire. Desire is hunger. And there's nothing more profound to you than to eat the person you love alive. Consumption of every part—the good, the beautiful, the bad, the ugly, and the rotted: skin, fat, muscles, blood, and bones. All of it. 

So, even if somewhere down the road you think you hate him for this, it'll be fine. He'll just consume that, too. 

John Price is a tenacious man. Stubborn. 

(Bullish, he hears around the barracks. Fuckin’ stubborn prick, too.)

It helps that this line of work is perfectly suited for such a peremptory drive to the finish line, no matter the cost. Utilitarian to a fault, despite his rather recalcitrant disposition. It's how he gets his way more often than not. Brutish dominance. Loutish suppression. 

But a near reckless, suicidal loyalty that attracts the sort of beasts this line of work needs. 

But that's work, not this. Not trying to convince you, his sugar-sweet (and viciously diabolical) lover, to bear the burden of giving him a family because society says it's uncouth (and illegal, morally reprehensible, villainous) for him to chain you to his bed to keep the darker parts of himself that want to rip into anyone who had the pleasure—pleasure that no longer belongs to them—of looking at you. 

That's all for him. 

(Nasty old bastard.) 

And, of course, because he's ready. Everything clicks. Locks into place. There's no one else out there for him. 

Really, though—it's your fault for prodding that beast in the first place. For letting inside your house, your bed. For thinking it could be tamed. And so. You should accept responsibility for it. 

(Nasty, nasty—)

But just as much as you know him, he knows you. You'll give him a litany of reasons why this shouldn't happen, and none of them will be because this isn't what you want. It'll be filled with reasons why you think he doesn't. 

And that simply won't do. 

So, he plots. Plans. 

The thing is. No one ever taught him how to hold things in his hands without crushing it. 

He doesn't think he can be delicate. Gentle. There's no way to gently nudge you into this. No. 

He'll convince you to yield the same way a tsunami convinces a house to move out of the way. 

Buried to the hilt in your cunt, he growls gospels into your ear about this beautiful Shangri-la, this sprawling castle he has in Spain until you're clenching down around him tight, conditioning your body to come at the thought of swelling with his child. About letting his seed take root, letting him knock you up. 

It's a crass image that he spits into your head—fuck you until it takes, love; breed this pretty cunt every day until you're fat and swollen—serves as the positive reinforcement to his classical conditioning. He'll turn you into one of Pavlov's mutts, salivating at the sound of him groaning into your ear as he fills your pussy up to the brim. He'll reshape you, change your wants until you only come around his cock when he's spitting his release against the plug of your womb. 

And when you make to get up, letting all his spend slip from your sloppy cunt to take your pill, he pulls you closer under the guise of wanting to feel your body on his, murmuring diabolical compromises he has no intention of letting you see through. 

“Later,” he rasps, pulling you closer. His mouth slots across your temple. “Just take it later, sweetheart. Later.”

“But—”

“It’ll be fine.” 

And, as if you'd been waiting for that reassurance, you melt into his hands, wet putty. 

(you take the bloody pill later, and he adds that to his mental calendar, adjusting the maths. He supposes he’ll just have to try harder next time.)

John's desire for you is overwhelming, all-encompassing, and he schemes around his wandering hands, bullying into your messy cunt only moments before your alarm is meant to go off, reminding you to take your pill, reinforcing that irritating little wall that keeps his come from reaching your womb. 

It goes off, but he hardly hears it over the roaring in his ears, the sweet, sweet litany of moans that slip out, staining the pillow with your pleasure. He just keeps fucking you through it, growling mindlessly into your ears about how badly he wants to come inside of you. His warnings, threats, about how close he is intertwining with your desperate begging for him to come, come inside me, John is the most beautiful harmonisation he'd ever heard, and it sews itself into his marrow, polluting the ugliness inside with a new, fresh hell for him to torture himself with. That delicious pleasure-pain that drives him mad—

He fills you up, palm pressed taut to your lower belly as he spits his virile release deep into your cunt. He can feel the heavy outline of his cock against your skin, stuffed full of him, and it's this—the way he moulds your body around him, cock visible through your flesh—that makes his eyes roll back into his head. Makes the urge to fuck, to breed, to claim bludgeon into him, shattering reason, logic. He wants to change you, irrevocably. Forever. To mar you with his touch, his essence. 

“Mine,” he chokes out, ugly and raw. It's a mangled mess in his throat. A threat. “All fucking mine, aren't you, love? All mine—”

His words seem to throw you into another climax, cunt clenching greedily down around him as he softens inside of you, plugging you up. You liked that, he notes, purs. The notion brands itself across his resolve, reshaping it into something that would make anyone else recoil in fear, disgust. 

But you preen at this creature that bares its fangs at you, snaps wicked teeth against your jugular. Fingers threading through its hair, shushing it, soothing it, as you pull it back into your embrace, head tucked against your chest. You lull it into complacency with the heavy thud of your heart, your sweet, earthy scent. 

What a pair, he thinks, and clamps his hands around your wrist when you murmur something about taking your pill now. Need to take it before it gets too late, John—

He makes his move, distracts you with his mouth, his tongue. 

“Just take it after,” he murmurs into your pussy, thighs bracketing around his head. His hands pull your waist down, pressing you harder against his mouth. “Later, love. It'll be fine—”

“But, John—”

The protest dies, turns to ash, when he grunts, sealing his lips around your clit, bullying it with the rasping press of tongue until you're arching your back, riding his face. Thoughts of your silly pill are gone, swallowed by him as you gush, drenching his mouth in your slick. 

And after, when you make to get up again, he pulls you close instead, voice curling around you like smoke when he tells you to take it after. 

“No, love. Stay in bed with me,” he peppers kisses to your cheek, your jaw, chin, sweetening his words, and folds you into the tight embrace of his arms. “Take it in the morning. It'll be fine to miss a day.”

You level him with something that shadows the ravines in your gaze with pure, unadulterated scepticism, but as he scouts the canyons, the valleys, the pretty craters that make up the composite of your eyes, he finds no discernible trace of wariness, uncertainty. The terse line in his shoulders ease. 

But while fossicking around he unearths something else. Something a bit more enigmatic, calculative, than doubt. Equivocal, slippery, it runs from him when he tries to give chase, tucking itself back into the harsh tenebrous that shades the landscape. 

He hums, wanting to ask, but you sigh in quasi-acquiescence, and burrow deeper into his embrace. 

“Fine,” you huff, but he tastes a purring sense of satisfaction in the air. “I'll take it tomorrow instead.” 

“Good girl.” The praise slips out, low and gritty, perfumed with his heavy greed. 

You shiver against him. The hitch in your throat is quiet in the bedroom, but to him, it sounds like a gunshot. 

John keeps meticulous track of the empty pill slots, and notes with a sticky, resinous sense of glee that the numbers are becoming muddled, skewed. Later becomes tomorrow, and your soft acquiesce has days skipped. Missed. 

You can't double up, you huff to him, mournfully slinking into the bed. It's nearly one in the morning. Technically, a brand new day. I absolutely have to take it tomorrow, John. Make sure you remind me—

There's something pointed in your tone. Something oil-slick. He nods, bites back a grin. 

“Sure,” he pulls you close, breathes in the sweet, loamy scent of you—sweat and sex and the lingering remnants of your perfume, your soap—and lets it stain his lungs. “I can do that.” 

You say nothing at all when he doesn't bring it up until well past midnight the next day, offering little more than an exasperated groan, and a huffy roll of your eyes, as if this was just a missed dinner with friends and not a life-changing misstep. 

(The beast purrs. He places his hand over his chest, and feels the rumble under his skin.)

“Need to be more responsible than this, John,” you say, squirming in his hold to try and rush to the washroom to take that pesky little pill. 

“Sorry, love,” he offers, and means none of it. Clings tighter to you. “Got a bit carried away today, is all.” 

“It's not your fault—” something curls out from a dark crevasse when you look at him. “I've been so—off lately, you know? Must be the new batch. Maybe I should call my doctor.” 

He stills. Body tensing, coiling. John tries to speak, but the words are ash on his tongue. He clears his throat. 

“Could stop taking it.” 

It crackles in the air. Hangs heavy like a stormcloud. 

You blink, stunned. But it's artificial, hollow. Pulled from a wicker basket where you keep all your different skins. 

“You mean—what? Stop it all together—?”

You flit in the space once more, but it's less of an injured bird searching for an escape, he realises suddenly, and more of—

A boomslang. 

One rearing up, searching for the perfect place to strike. 

Wishful thinking, though, because you're flustered and skittish once more, a small prey animal he isn't sure what he wants to do the most—sink his teeth into you, tear you into pieces, and devour you whole, or hide you away from the world. 

“I can look for something else in the meantime,” you sound shy, hesitant, and it prickles across his skin. “But we'd need to be careful, you know. Otherwise you might actually get me pregnant.”

He tries to swallow his groan. Chokes on it instead. 

“Sure, sure—” he hacks into his palm. “Of course, love. We'll be safe. I'll pull out—”

Naturally, he doesn't. Makes no effort to even try despite promising you he is. 

“Not my fault your pussy won't let go of me, love,” he grumbles, hand cupping your weeping sex in his palm. The heat of you is searing. Blistering. He thinks he could happily melt inside of it for the rest of his life, and leans down to whisper his devotion into your come-slicked folds, the bitter tang of you, of him, admixing on his tongue. An elixir he could drown in. 

You huff at him after, all glossy-eyed and sex-drunk, and tell him to please try harder, John, I'll have to get plan b tomorrow—

You don't, but the threat of it, the possibility, lingers in the back of his mind, souring his thoughts. 

Next time, and I'll have to, John, you say, featherlight, lips pressed against the head of his cock. A warning, a goddamn tease—

His voice is strained, pinched. “Of course, love,” and he guides your mouth back to his cock, letting the matter fall into pieces when you suck on the sensitive head, tongue licking, coy and kittenish, over his frenulum. 

It's only later, when watches you swallow down his come, that the beast slinks out of the shadows, pocketing the fragments. 

You're off birth control—barely any scheming words of whispered concern needed—but the idea of you taking a little pill to wipe away his efforts has him pulling back. Recalibrating his plans. 

He decides on a different route to the same end. 

Damnation at your own hand. 

John, for his credit, does begin to pull out after that—albeit, with a great deal of agonised reluctance—and instead comes all over your pretty face. 

With thick ropes of his pearlescent spend dripping down the apples of your heated cheeks, he doesn't think he's ever seen a sight more beautiful than this. 

And one with more opportunity.

Slowly, he swipes at it with his thumb and then promptly brings it down, hard, on your clit. You flinch, mewling at the overstimulation, and the threat he brings so close to your raw, unprotected sex. It's dangerous. This thin line he dances along could snap at any moment. Could rain hellfire and fury over his broad shoulders, unmake all the progress he'd steadily built up. 

He walks the precipice, anyway. He pulls his hand away, and brings two fingers up to curve over your cheeks. His thumb, stained with your slick and his come, slides across your bottom lip. 

The pout you give him—all wet-eyed lachrymose—has his spent cock twitching against his sticky thigh. “Fuck, love. Gonna send me to an early grave if you keep starin’ at me like that.” 

“You're cracked,” you slur around his thumb. In retaliation, he digs it into your tongue, and preens—full of nasty, gnarled satisfaction—when your eyes flutter, rolling into the back of your head at the taste. 

With this brief distraction, he drops his come-stained fingers to your mound, and rubs along the swollen rim of your hole. Just touching, pressing. A tease, a whisper. 

You tense. “John—” it's muffled around his thumb, and he isn't sure if it's a warning or a plea. 

He pushes the tips in, barely to the first knuckle, and just pets around your rim. 

It's a battle of wills, now. “No more than this,” he promises, and the undercurrent of his threat rents the air. Makes you bristle. 

You always loved a challenge—especially coming from him. 

“Just the tip?” You tease, spittle running down your chin. Your eyes are dark—midnight skies, ink black—and he's struck by the afterimage of himself in those pools. Made in the same image. 

He grunts, slides into the first knuckle, and scissors them apart. 

“John—” it's breathless. Your teeth spear his thumb, tight around his bone. He wants nothing more than to have you bite down hard, scar his bones with the gnawed meteors of your desire. Your desperation. “Fuck—please—”

You give in so prettily, and he barely has a moment to think about how quick it's been when you angle your hips, hand falling to grip his wrist tight as you slide down his fingers, all the way to the last knuckle. 

You clench around him like a vice. A pretty bow. He fucks you with his fingers, meeting your shallow thrusts with ones of his own, slamming viciously into your pussy as he coos adorations into your ear. 

With his other hand, he reaches down and fists himself over your bare mound, pressing the tip against your clit where it weeps prespend over your flesh. His thumb sweeps across what spills out, dragging it back down to your sopping hole, pushing it inside. 

It's probably not enough to reach your womb, to get you pregnant, but he clings to that tantalising fantasy as he drills his fingers into you until you come, breathlessly begging him to fuck you harder, to fill you up—

He isn't even fucking you with his cock, and you still beg him for it. 

John pushes the tip into your slit, fingers still buried deep inside of your throbbing pussy, and groans with the force of his release. It makes him dizzy, almost nauseous with it, filling his head with nothing but the sweet, wounded sound of your moans filling the room, and the wet squelch of his fingers pulling out of you. 

When he catches the threads of cognisance in his fingers once more, he leans back on his haunches, chest heaving, and brands the messy sight of your pussy fluttering, clenching around nothing, as his spend drips down your slit, over your hole, and pools in the sheets below. 

He's not sure if heaven exists, but he knows the sight of you, breathless and whimpering on his bed, is the closest a man like him will ever come to seeing it. 

The push-pull of this little game stretches on. 

Price likes to see just how far he toe the line before you're whimpering into the sheets, telling him don't, John, don't come inside me, I'm not anything, John—and he's ripping himself away from the tight clutch of your wet, hot cunt, and coming all over you.

The illicit tease of barely pulling out in time, and then scooping up the mess he makes on your face, your breasts, your belly, your ass, lower back, thighs, and spooning it into your pussy until it's a fixture in your bedroom ritual. 

And maybe it's the threat of it all, of playing such a dangerous game, seems to cudgel under his skin the most, ripping apart the thin veneer of that man he once pretended to be—righteous and good—shedding it off with each hiccupped gasp you make when he presses his come-slicked fingers inside of you, murmuring guttural words of affection in the shape of impish mockery (want it bad, don't you, sweet thing; so fuckin’ greedy for it, love—). 

He likes it the most when he can fuck you stupid on his fingers. Cockdrunk, and come-starved (because you are, of course; he hasn't come inside of your cunt in weeks, and doesn't miss the mournfully pitiful whines you give when he pulls out, depriving you of the pleasure of feeling him come inside you), you're too blissed out, swimming in pleasure, to think about what he's doing. 

In fact, he doesn't really give you much of a chance to think at all. 

The next few weeks are filled with him fucking you each night brutally, viciously, snarling low in your ear about how bad he wants to come in you, stuff you full, and then keep you plugged up all night with his cock that it takes, and then pulling out right before, committing the sight of your betrayed expression to memory where it'll sit like a trophy when you finally break. 

You make an appointment with your gynaecologist, and circle the date on his calendar. 

John notes it down. Tucks it away. 

And then he amps up the pressure.

John's fingers root behind your knees, pushing your thighs apart as he settles between them. His gaze drills into your bare cunt, slick and wet, and so ready for him. Eager for it. 

He'd counted the days, and knows that if there's ever the absolute worst time to have unprotected sex, to come inside of you, is now. 

Which, of course, means he has to. The clause in that is ironclad. Apodictic. 

“Bit dangerous,” he rasps, and lifts your leg up, resting your ankle on his shoulder. You fluster beneath him, panting and pretty, and fuck—he’s not pulling out of your pussy tonight at all. “Should I pull out?” 

It's a tease. A test. 

He reaches down as he says the words, gripping his cock and bringing it down against your wet heat. The bare, blunt head of his cocks slaps against your clit, and you arch, keening. Nails bite into the thick muscles of his biceps, and he leans into the sharp sting. Letting it ground him. Centre him. 

This will be your cacoëthes. 

He's been depriving you for weeks, and John knows that you're wanting for it. Desperate. The little twitches your hips give, as if begging him to fill you up, are proof enough of how much you want this. 

This. The dream he dripped into your ears, hot oil congealing over your frontal lobe; infectious and thick. You can try to chisel it off, but the pollution is already damning. Ruining. 

You want this. He wears the axiom like armour. 

And you beg for it—eyes shaded in gut wrenchingly beautiful lachrymose—and John snuffles closer, inching the weeping head of his cock into your tight, warm heat. 

The sight of splitting you open is something he never grows tired of. Something that, without fail, makes his balls ache. His chest thrum. Blood turns to ichor. To wine. He's drunk on the contrast made between you—a garish chiaroscuro of your pretty pussy, soft and sickly sweet—almost nauseatingly so—swallowing down the fat, girthy length of his cock. The thick streams of veins running along the flushed, heavy shaft against your puffy, soft folds is almost hideous. Sinful. He can't equate it to anything else except corruption. The horrific beast sullying the princess. 

And fuck—

The thought alone makes him throb. 

He's sullied you plenty, he reckons, and yet you always look so sweet. Especially now, when your rim is stretched taut around the thick of him, pussy squeezing, clenching around him in a vice, as if you weren't sure to push him out or pull him deeper. 

John decides for you. Opting instead to push your knees down to your chest, nearly brushing your ears, and follows with the bulk of his body until he feels your breath rush out of your lungs. You struggle for a moment, gasping wetly into his ear as his weight—every bearish pound of it—rests on you in the perfect mating press. Your bite into his biceps, keening prettily into his ear as he bullies the full length of his cock into you. Spears you open. Splits you apart. 

He can feel you gush around him, drenching his groin and thighs with your slick. 

Like this—chest to chest, forced to breathe in the same air, the same madness—he likes to just stare at you, taking in the heat simmering under your skin, the sweat beading along your temple, the pinch in your brow as you struggle to adjust to the sheer width of him cudgelling you open. A battering ram you're forced to make room for. 

He takes it all in, each flicker of emotion, each heaving gasp. Burns it into his memory. Lets it soften the iron around his heart. Keeps it there, nestled in the cradle of his limited love, held aloft by indelicate, bearish hands. This sweet thing. 

He can't wait to ruin it. 

If these weeks leading up to this were lovemaking, fucking, then this, this, is mating. Animalistic. Primal. He pushes in as deep as he can, until the tip kisses the ripened seal of your womb, and grinds his hips cruelly into the cradle of your thighs. 

Your nails leave bloodied indents in his flesh. A scar he'll proudly bear the mark of. A tattoo of the time when he turned you into something new. 

His balls are soaked. The sheets, too. He mocks you for it, a rasping growl lodged deep in his throat, taunting you about how fucking wet you are for him. How badly you need it. 

“Gotta plug you up, hm?” He grunts, and sets a pace that serves only to accentuate the sloppy, messy squelch of your cunt. 

His cock pistoning into you, alternating between deep, full thrusts that knock the air from your lungs, and heavy, slow plunges meant to badger the blunt head of his cock against your walls. 

You seem to like it best when he shifts his weight between each thigh, content to just grind into you. Make you feel every inch of him. You cling to him, yowling in his ear about how good it feels, how much you love this, love his cock—

The thick bed of wry, umber curls on his chest, stomach, and groin grow slick with sweat from the intensity of it all, from the shared heat. Pressed tight against you, he feels every quiver. Every flinch. Each moan is made known in a slight reverberation across his skin before he hears it. 

Drenched in sweat, glued to you as he fucks you into the mattress, John feels very much like the beast making a house out of a twisted whim in his head. Feverish, sick, he drives into you with the single minded goal of filling that home up with three. Then four. Five—

As many as you'll let him.

And he almost loses himself to that thought alone. Dancing sugar plums that make his balls tighten. He stems the flood by pulling out of you, letting his heavy cock slap against your sticky, soaked cunt as he heaves into your hairline, sucking in the heady loam, the humus, of your scent. 

The whimper you make when he pulls out of you sounds like a wounded animal, and the noise tickles across his hindbrain. His jaw aches. He bites down on a snarl as you thrash against him, mindless with the need to have him inside of you. It brings a nasty, vicious curl to the ends of his mouth, and he doesn't even bother trying to tamper it down. John lifts his head and lets you see his foaming muzzle, drooling with thick globes of saliva. 

“Stay still,” he growls, low and dangerous. It's as much of a warning as it is a command, and the way you react, tensing, coiling tight—the flash of unease. Shock. And then the need. Achy, heavy. He feels it against his jugular when you shiver, moaning his name into the space between you where it reeks of desperation. 

To soften the submissive tremble in your jaw—and maybe to temper down the challenging talons sharpening in your gaze—he nuzzles his cheek against yours, peppers wet kisses to your skin. He licks across your jaw, bites down on your flesh. 

He tastes salt and sin on your skin. 

(His eyes roll so far back into his skull he thinks he might get lost.)

“Gonna cum on your pretty cunt if you don't stop squirming, love.” 

And John loves you most for your waspish intelligence—the ire smouldering in your throat. The way you bite back just as hard, never afraid to bear teeth when he snarls. He doesn't think he could ever love someone too soft—not without tearing them to pieces. To shreds. 

But you wear plush, tender conchoidal skin over jagged, rough obsidian. He'll ruin himself if he ever tries to rip you apart. 

Like this, though—you melt. 

All that keen, vicious intelligence snuffed out. His scheming Cleopatra tamed on his cock. 

Your heels dig into the back of his thighs, urging him closer to your sex. “Come on, John, just fuck me, fuck me already—”

(Tamed, though, perhaps being a misnomer.)

He huffs into your neck. “Impatient little quean.”

It gets him a sharp bite to the tip of his ear, and the floor roars so loudly in his veins, he gets dizzy from it. 

“Fuck—”

He's pressing back into you again, into your warm, tight heat, and it's nirvana kissing his nerves. Liquifying his spine. He rolls into you with a weighted groan, buried to the hilt once more. 

But even with the respite, he knows he won't last. 

John needs you fucked stupid, docile and soft just for him, and sets out to do just that. Pounding into you with a spiteful twist of his hips that he knows will leave you a little sore, and tender tomorrow. But the idea of spreading your puffy, achy folds apart and soothing the slight hurt with his tongue for hours until you're sobbing into the cushions quells any hesitation that rears, begging him to slow down. 

Go easy on your pretty cunt.

(As if.)

John batters into you until your eyes glaze over, and your chin, cheeks, smear with drool. Until the challenge in midnight black melts into submission. Docile, and malleable. Perfect for him to mould. Shape. 

Reshape.

He glues to you, touch starved and tactile, and basks in the liquid heat that blooms from deep within you. 

“Gonna cum soon,” he snarls, broken by the heave in his chest as he fucks into you, starved. “Gotta pull out, love—”

You're gripping him tighter, anchoring him to your body. You haven't come yet. Something he dangles in front of you like a threat. 

He watches the slow crawl of realisation crest over your messy face, and thinks he falls just a little bit more in love with you at the sight of your little pout. 

Loves, even more, the way it breaks apart when he pounds into you harder, viciously, watching drool dribble off your chin, and reason leak from your ears—

“Please, John—” the sound of your whimpering has him grunting, head dizzy with the saccharine sweet taste of it on his tongue. “Please, please—come inside me. I–I want you to–to fill me up—”

“Yeah?” He taunts, mean and breathless. “Want me to come inside your sloppy cunt? Dangerous, ain't it? Jus’ might take, sweet thing. Is that what you want?”

You're howling a litany of sin into his ear, desperation drenches each clamour of his name, each orison uttered, begging him to come, to fill you up, and then—

“Fuck—I want it so bad—” his head is filled with static. Whitenoise. “Want it to take, John—”

He comes inside of you, cock pulsing so hard it feels like a sob. Filling you up. Wishing on all the stars that it takes—

As a reward for your good behaviour, he spreads you out over the sheets, and growls his approval into your sopping pussy, drenching himself with the taste, the smell, of you, promising to wear it like a perfume so everyone knows how good you are for him. Him, alone. 

(His, his, his—)

When you come, you nearly smother him, and he thinks he sees a glimpse of nirvana in baby soft yellow before he's pulled back by your shaking hands brushing the hair off his sweat-slicked forehead. 

“Are you okay, John—”

He rolls you under him, fucking into your drenched pussy like a man starved. That tantalising vision glues itself to his hindbrain, so close he can scent the fresh dew of fresh milk, and warm bread in his nose. Feel the bump of your stomach. 

He's almost angry about it, about being ripped away from that dream, and takes his aggression out on your sloppy, leaking cunt. The way his come trickles out, staining the mattress below and the back of your thighs has him growling darkly into your nape. 

“Keep it in,” he snarls, words sharpened on the whetstone of his need. “Keep it all inside, love.” 

“Ah, John, John—” something falls from your split-slicked lips, and his fingers bite into your hips. Punishment for the slurred backtalk. 

“I'll spank your ass if any of it leaks out—”

It does. Of course it does. 

He bends you over his knee, and slaps his broad, rough palm over each cheek ten times before deliriously shoving two thick fingers into your sloppy cunt, stuffing his come back inside your tender, swollen hole, rough and mean, as you howl, squirming in his lap about how you promise you'll be good next time, John, please—I'll keep it all in, I swear, I—

“You fuckin’ better, love.” He groans, and thinks about cumming on your messy face, all slick with sweat, and drool, but decides against it. A waste, he thinks, and leans over you to shove the thick, twisting length of his angry cock inside you to the hilt just spit his release against your seal once more. 

“That was…” You're still panting against his chest, eyes dazed, and body laxed. Melted wax over his chest. “Intense,” you settle on after a beat. 

There's a hiccup in your breath when he hums, chest rumbling with the sound. 

“Mm, but you liked it, didn't you?”

Of course you did. Of course. The evidence of it is drying, tacky and slick, on his groin, his thighs. 

You burrow into his side, peeking at him from over the thick bed of wry curls that clot over his chest. “You're fucking me like you haven't in years, John. Makes me wonder if you have an agenda.”

He considers your words. The weight of them. Wonders just how much you've clued into, but huffs when he catches the same look in your eyes as the one reflected in his own.

Cheeky little—

“Can't I just want to fuck you? Not everything has to be about schemes, love.” 

The oil of his lies, the sticky resin of his evasion makes you huff into his skin.

In all his meticulous planning, he'd picked up several books on this particular topic, and scoured every available, reputable, site he could find. John knows what to look out for by now, and keeps a keen eye on you—one that very quickly dips into obsessiveness, but you're kind enough to call it overbearing. 

Jesus Christ, John, why are you asking me how many times I pissed today? 

He just needs to wait things out. 

But rather irritatingly, he's called away overseas for the next week. 

Ah, well. He'll have to try harder next time. 

He arrives in Heathrow mid-morning, and follows Laswell into the office. There's a mountain of reports to fill out—things that, rather irritatingly, require his signature—and resolves to spend the rest of the day hunched over at his desk, even though there's an itch in the back of his skull demanding he go home. 

It is always like this, though—both the post-mission ritual of banal paperwork that seems almost comical considering what he'd just done, and the undeniable urge to flee back into the sanctuary of your shared home. 

His bones ache for it. 

Laswell huffs when he lingers by the exit, and he swallows a groan. 

While he was away, you'd been silent. Moreso than usual. 

Where he'd have expected an update on what was going on—the mundanity of your life that he clings to when the beast in his head whets its talons a little too sharp, digs into a little too deep—you’ve gone silent. Not radio. Not completely. But the information you give is sparse. Cagey.

You don't tell him about the visit to the gynaecologist, offering nothing but a quiet hum into the receiver, all blase and nonchalant, and a simple, equivocal: “good.” 

He tucks it away, lets the matter drop. 

If he timed things correctly—barring your impish prevarication aside—then something will begin to show soon. You would have mentioned something. Some nominal change to your physical well-being, but when pried, pressed, you huff. 

“I'm good, John. When are you coming home, anyway?”

He raps his knuckles on his desk, still smarting from the punches he'd thrown recklessly this past week, too keyed up to let his anger simmer instead of boil, and thinks. About you. About this. 

A week isn't a lot of time—he’s been called away for months in the past—but this feels like it's lingering. Time stretched and distorted. Elongated. And a part of him feels chipped, fractured after touchdown. 

It wasn't as if this particular assignment was any more, or less, dangerous than the ones he went on before. If anything, it was comparatively mild. Muted. He honed into his training, and did his goddamn job. And yet—

Yet. 

You lived in the spaces he occupied. The air he breathed. The water he drank. 

He brought you with him, something he's never, ever, done before. Perched pretty on his shoulder, he heard your voice in his head with every step he took, every radio call. 

But it was hallucinatory. Chimerical. You weren't there, you were here, but the problem lies in the lack of a divide that usually bifurcates the world into two fractions: his job and you.

It eats at him. 

He brought you where he's never taken anyone before. Never let them in. 

His thoughts were asunder. Pulled in all directions, but the centre was always you. His compass pointing north. He wants you. Needs you. His whole being has been recalibrated with the needle aimed toward you. 

An alert on his phone shakes him from his reverie. 

He reaches for it, slides his hand across the lockbar. The notification pops up. A message from his bank. 

His card—the one he gave you, the one you've used all of once to buy a chocolate bar when he gruffly, surely, complained about you not spending his money—has been used. 

Curious now, he opens his app, eyes scanning the threadbare purchases—all mostly interest fees and service charges, bar one. It was recently used at a drugstore for under twenty dollars. 

He doesn't know what this means, what you're playing at. He makes to text you, but he gets an email next. 

Thank you for your purchase; here is your e-receipt. 

His heart does something strange in his chest. Turns in on itself. Goes all askew. 

Not only are you using his card, you're using his account, too. He clicks it, eyes scanning through the purchases (only two), and blinks. 

A card, and—

His want takes the shape of a hand, presses against his jugular. 

—a pregnancy test. 

He knew when he started this game that this was, of course, the inevitable outcome, but having it here, right in front of him—in that sneaky, noncommittal way you always do things; behind his back, and in the dark, like you enjoy watching him try and sniff out the truth—has his belly knotting up. Churning. 

A pregnancy test. 

Fuck—

(and out of all the ways to tell him, you cheeky little—)

He's up out of his chair before he's even aware that he's standing. 

“Laswell,” he gets out, and can't be sure how his voice is so measured when his head is being shredded into pieces. “I'm out for the rest of the day. This whole bloody week, too—”

“Something bad happen?” 

His hands shake when he pulls his jacket on, slips his car keys into his hands. “No. Quite the opposite, actually. I'm going to be a father. A bloody dad—”

It's on that sentiment when his voice breaks. Shatters. He clears his throat, blinks furiously. Fuck. Fuck. It's happening—

Shangri-la sits in his fist, taking the shape of an e-mailed receipt. 

In his periphery, he sees Simon's head come up. Watching him. Measured. 

Laswell, too, eyes him with a degree of wariness. He supposes to them this means the end of everything. 

She breathes in. “Tuscany would be my choice.”

“Oh?” He tears his eyes away from the screen, gracing her with a steady, unflinching look. “Was thinking something a bit more local. Liverpool.”

It gets a scoff, one full of disgust. “She'll divorce you within the year.” 

“I'm having a baby, Laswell. Not getting married.”

“Oh, no?” It's a challenge. “I seem to recall something about someone being a proper gentleman, or was that just the lie you told your unofficial missus?”

“We'll get married. That's not up for debate—” an intern makes an alarmed face, like perhaps it ought to be. Had he not been holding nirvana in his hand, he might be a bit more cautious with his madness. Too bloody bad. “Wherever she wants—Tuscany, Udaipur, fucking Siberia. I don't care. What I’m a bit more concerned with is my expectant wife.” 

“Soon-to-be,” she volleys, just because she knows it's the sort of thing that will itch under his skin. 

“Already is, Laswell.” He gripes, flat. “Or damn near close to it.” 

“If she knows what's good for her, she'll say no.”

“Lucky me, then, that she doesn't.” 

Lucky him, indeed. 

On his way out, Ghost utters a heated congratulations to him, and John can see his gaze is absent. Turned inward, mind whirring. Reeling. He can hear the gears grind from where he stands, and if the ink-black madness in his lieutenant’s drifting, pensive eyes means much of anything, then John sends a silent hail mary to whatever unlucky person was misfortune enough to unleash the muzzle on that particular dog. 

Well. It's not really his problem. Until it is. Until it becomes one. But since it's not something that'll impact him in the next five minutes, he tucks it away. “Thanks.” 

He doesn't linger. Doesn't, really, even remember the ride home, head buzzing with thoughts that keep twisting around themselves, driving him mental. Things like, is it real? what if you were joking. what you weren't? 

Oh, fuck—

You better not be. 

But you wouldn't. You're conniving and wily, but you're not cruel. 

This is happening, then. 

You've been playing house with matches inside of a tinderbox. He shouldn't be surprised when it all goes up in flames, in smoke, but as he walks through the door, and glimpses the pregnancy test perched innocently on the counter beside a card—congrats, daddy (and the caricature of a man in a pinstripe suit nearly makes him gag)—he feels all the maligned pieces inside of crack. 

It shifts—

You walk out, hand cupped protectively over your lower belly. Eyes gleaming like a wild cat crouched low in the tussocks surrounding the savannah, watching him an eager sense of anticipation, excitement, and just the slightest edge of what he can only imagine the unfortunate mate of a black widow sees before it's consumed. Spare parts. 

It thrums inside of him. Ignites this wicker basket he calls a heart until it's cinder. Ash. Soot. He breathes it in. Tastes you on his tongue. 

John doesn't have the words. Can't think beyond the steady brag of his burning heart. 

His. His.

—and then it all falls into place. 

Yours.

He dotes on you with an almost unhinged devotion, murmuring stilted, gruff words of muted affection into the shallow bump on your belly. Ones that you, politely, pretend not to hear. 

A new bedtime ritual, one he adheres to with an almost obsessive need. 

Until it becomes too much. 

“Go and get my prenatal vitamins from the washroom, please. I just need five minutes without you smothering me, you stupid bear of a man.”

“You love it,” he grumbles, but acquiesces, giving your small, barely there bump a pat. “I'll be back soon.”

“Oh, no… please take your time.” 

Despite the prickle in your tongue, your eyes are soft. Warm. Melting him just a little more. 

John pulls away, and doesn't even pretend the reluctance to be apart is feigned. 

“It's in the drawer,” you call, voice stretched. Echoing. “Next to your shaving cream.” 

He pulls the drawer open, scanning the contents briefly, before finding the purple bottle in the back. Why you chose here of all places to put the bloody things—

His knuckles knock against the old box of condoms, tipping it over. There's a strange rattle as it falls, and his brows furrow at the noise. 

Curiously, he reaches for it. Shakes it as he picks it up. The same sounds spill out. He pops the flap of the box open, peering inside, and—

A gruff chuckle crackles in his throat. 

Inside the old box of condoms—the ones he never bothered to throw out, or use—is an accumulation of all the pills you'd meant to take. 

His jowls ache. He rubs at his jaw with his hand, and feels the skittish patter of his heart thudding out of his skin. Madness in his veins. 

John closes the drawer with his knee, and then tosses the box of condoms in the bin, leaving it for you to find later when you're inevitably wracked by another wave of morning sickness. A little shred of vindication for this little game you made him play. 

Though he supposes turn-about is fair play, and the number of pills in the box is less than the months he spent scheming for this vision of his.  

In the back of his head, the beast purrs.

“Do we need to play these games again for the next one,” he rasps. “Or can I just fuck you until it takes.” 

You blink at him, wide and owlish. Full of faux innocence as you coax the beast out of hiding. “I don't know what you're talking about, John.” 

More games, then. He thinks he might crack open your ribcage and rest his weary head on the frantic beat of your heart. 

“Mm, don't know what I'd do without you,” he says, guns aching. He reaches for the pack of gum (no smoking around the baby or you'd toss him off the balcony), and pops a spearmint into his mouth. “Might live longer, I reckon, but—”

Your elbow digs into his side. “You sure about that?”

He just kisses your crown in response, and places his heavy, scarred hand over the curve of your belly. The beast inside purrs, content for now. Satiated. 

When he looks into your midnight eyes, he finds your own beast slumbering away. 

A match made in a tinderbox, he guesses, and kisses you until you're dizzy. His very own Shangri-la sitting pretty inside his bed, nestled in the castle in Spain you helped him build.

Will help him fill. 

[lumiambrose]

✰ against all odds

kinktober 24 - day twentytwo

featuring: rin itoshi x f!reader

summary: the itoshi family organises a dinner for your families, giving you a chance to finally see the man of your affection again, and giving him a chance to let out his pent up anger on you.

tags: smut, reader is the itoshi families childhood friend, one sided love, p in v, he finishes inside, he really hates you, borderling manipulation, blackmail, degredation, spanking, ooc sae?, mean rin, shameless reader

wc: 1.8k

growing up with the itoshi family wasn't for the weak, that was a fact you learned at quite a young age. your parents had known each other since childhood, so it was a given that your families are close. growing up with the two boys, you were always closer to sae. to you, he was easier to approach. maybe it was because he was simply more mature, or maybe it was because you would always deny your growing crush on the younger itoshi.

that crush of yours led you to stay out of his way, making you always interact with the older itoshi and leaving poor rin left out. of course, rin didn't enjoy this at all, leaving him to dislike you more by each year, especially since once sae left, you two barely talked at all. although that didn't stop you from watching him on the sidelines, you were his biggest fan, and whether he knew or not, you were simply too scared to approach him.

luckily for you, you finally had the opportunity to see him again. sae was visiting japan for a couple weeks, and your parents, over the roof, organised a dinner for your families at the itoshi house. with your nerves worse than ever, the older itoshi did his best to reassure you. it had been years since you all last talked, and if rin was mad at anyone, it should be him.

that didn't stop you from trembling with fear as you made your way to the itoshi villa, donned in your cute white dress that you recently bought, hoping to leave a good impression as you built up the courage to talk to your crush. you were greeted by mrs. itoshi as you entered the estate, feeling back at home you made your way to the dining room, doing a one-over on all the familiar yet unknown faces. although as you scanned the room, you could only focus on one man. he hadn't changed a bit, teal eyes standing out with those lower lashes of his, he even had the same haircut as he did years ago. rin, no—your rin, hadn't changed one bit. your heart fluttered as you locked eyes, sending a shock through your body, which quickly turned into embarrassment as he let out a short scoff, clearly uninterested in you.

the dinner itself was boring, the food was good, but other than that, it was nothing more than your parents controlling the conversation while you and the two brothers sat and listened in. during the meal, you kept stealing glances at rin, sometimes you'd lock eyes, sometimes he'd purposefully avoid your gaze, but everytime you felt your cheeks heating up. he was stunning—perfect, you had nothing but admiration for him, even if he didn't like you.

it was during dessert that you finally gave into your curiosity, excusing yourself to the bathroom. although, instead of cleaning yourself up, once you made your way up the stairs, taking a right turn, finding yourself in front of a very familiar door. you hype yourself up once more, giving yourself the courage to open it, entering rin’s old room.

which is where you find yourself now. it is exactly as he left it. trophies adorn the shelves, and a picture of his most recent victory sits on his study desk. being in his room fills you with nostalgia, it makes you feel at home. you take your time exploring the familiar room, taking in every single detail, from the blue bedsheets to a family photo and even his wardrobe. it's once you reach his window that you stop in your tracks, staring out into the garden below, reminiscing on the past where the three of you would play together. it’s perfect, making you miss the childhood you shared with them.

“what the fuck are you doing in here?” a sharp voice awakens you from your daydream, making you shiver. you spin around, your heart leaping into your throat as you come face to face with rin. his teal eyes are narrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval. "r-rin!" you stammer, "i'm so sorry, i didn't mean to intrude, i just..." your words trail off as you realise how pathetic you sound.

rin steps closer, towering over you. "just what? decided to take a little trip down memory lane in my room?" his voice is low, angry—almost a growl. "or were you hoping for something more?”

your cheeks flush a deep crimson, and you can feel your pulse racing. "n-no, of course not! i was just curious, i swear!" you step back, but find yourself pressed against the window.

rin advances closer, backing you up until there’s no space between the cold glass against your back. he places one hand above your head, leaning in close and trapping you. "don't fucking lie to me. do you take me for a fool? i’m not blind, you've always had a thing for me, haven't you?"

you swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. "i…i don't know what you're talking about." but even to your own ears, the words sound weak and unconvincing.

rin chuckles at your pathetic state, his hot breath fanning across your face. "cut the bullshit. i'm not a kid anymore. and neither are you." his eyes rake over your body, lingering on the swell of your breasts beneath the thin fabric of your dress. "tell me the truth. did you come in here hoping to seduce me?"

your mind is racing, your body trembling with a heady mix of fear and desire. you know you should deny it, you should try to escape from this situation. but there's a part of you that wants the truth; that has always wanted him. "i...i can't deny that i have feelings for you," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "but i never thought...i mean, i understand you don't like me..."

rin's gaze on your hardens as he continues to look at you like a mere dog. "you think you can just waltz in here, stir up old feelings, and expect me to fall at your feet?" he scoffs, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "you've always been a tease, a nasty little vixen. always playing coy while batting your eyelashes at me."

his free hand trails down your side, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hip. "but I'm not a boy anymore, nor am i a fool. and i'm done playing stupid games." in one swift motion, he spins you around and presses you face-first against the window. you can feel the hard planes of his body against your back, his erection evident as it digs into your ass.

"rin! wait-" you gasp, but your protests are cut off as he yanks your panties down and kicks your legs apart.

"shut up," he growls, his hand coming down on your ass with a loud smack. "i'm going to give you exactly what you've always wanted. and you're going to take it like the desperate little slut you are."

you whimper as he frees his cock, feeling it prod against your entrance. "please," you beg, though at this point, you’re not sure if you're pleading for him to stop or to continue.

rin though, doesn't give you a choice. with one brutal thrust, he sheathes himself inside you, stretching you painfully around his girth. "fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his hips snapping forward in a punishing rhythm. "i bet you've been dreaming of this, haven't you? dreaming of me splitting you open on my cock?"

tears form at the corners of your eyes as he pounds into you, the pleasure bordering on pain. "yes!" you sob, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. "god, yes! been wanting this for so long."

rin's hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back as he leans down to hiss in your ear. "then take it. take every fucking inch of me. i'm going to fucking ruin you, no man’s ever going to want you after this. but you don’t care, isn’t that right?”

the grip he has on your hair tightens as he continues his torturing pace, his cock driving into you with brutal force. "can you even handle this?" he taunts, his other hand sliding around to roughly palm your breast. "being nothing but a dumb toy for me to use as i please."

you can only moan in response, your body surrendering to his being. his cock hitting you in all the right spots, sending immense pleasure straight to your core. despite the pain, you find yourself craving more, desperate for him to claim you completely.

he releases his grasp on your hair and grabs your hips instead, fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you back onto his cock. "bet you've touched yourself thinking about this, haven't you? fantasising about me fucking you senseless? what a dumb whore" his voice is a low growl, filled with contempt and lust.

"yes," you gasp, your voice barely recognisable at this point. "i've dreamt of this every night."

rin almost laughs, unsure whether he should pity you or not. his pace increasing as he nears his climax. "good. because from now on, your body is mine. i'm going to mark you as mine, inside and out."

with one more powerful thrust, rin buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he fills you with his cum. the sensation sends you over the edge, your body shaking in ecstasy as your own orgasm crashes over you.

as you both come down from your highs, rin pulls out, letting his cum drip down your thighs. he turns you around to face him, his eyes dark and uncaring. "what a dumb slut," he says, staring down at you. "next time, you won't have to sneak into my room to get what you want. you can just beg for it like the pathetic little toy you are. once i call for you, of course," he says as he snatches your phone, unlocking it with ease and inputting a phone number.

“don’t even think about sharing this, or ignoring it.” he closes the distance. “if i call, you pick up. if i send you an address, you’re there in an hour. don’t make me wait, else i can easily find someone else.” he spits out before dressing himself and heading to the door.

“and if you tell anyone about these little endeavours, you’ll pay for it accordingly.” with that, he exits the room. leaving you in what once was your safe haven. although now, your thighs are dripping with cum of the man you once considered your saviour, your eyes watering up at the dark twist of what once was an innocent crush.

taglist: @ryescapades @143-ilyuu @maruflix @pixelcafe-network

©lumis kinktober 24' ─ do not translate, repost, copy any of my works

[ybklix]

daddy issues

★ bang chan

✦summary: After the agony for his sexual frustation of living under the same place as you, Bang Chan finally decides to do something to satiate all his deep and dirty fantasies with you, his best friend’s precious daughter.

♡ pairing: richdilf!chan x spoiled!bratty rich fem reader

headcanons: dilf!chan, urdad’sbestfiend!chan ♡ he wore that dilf outfit and leave us fereal like that (me) + one shoot: smut

(i tried my best, not sure if this is how headcanons works heh)

♡ based on my wild thoughts in this post lol

♡ current warnings: MDNI, smut, daddy kink, dirty talk, teasing, fingering, masturbation, spanking, slapping, oral sex, choking, implied legal age gap (reader in her early 20’s and Chan in his mid 30’s), use of nicknames (some of them degrating), after care, and just chan being rough without mercy🙂‍↕️

note: reader goes by ‘park’ last name but it is only mentioned once for the narrative.

♡ word count: 11.3k

•MASTERLIST• taglist forms for upcoming works or wip♡

—a/n: there you go, happy late father’s day!

playlist: daddy issues by the neighbourhood + be my daddy by lana del rey

yourdad’sbestfriend!chan who since he met you has not stopped fantasizing about the spoiled daughter of his friend and business partner.

dilf!chan who had to go through a horrible divorce and is trying to be the best father for his beloved toddler daughter, going through emotional stress and turning into sexually frustration since he meets you because he hasn't had sex in a long time, and you keep dangerously flirting and teasing him.

yourdad’sbestfriend!chan who wants to put you in your place for being spoiled and at the same time pampered you himself, him thinking that you’ve had everything in your life, except a big dick like his.

yourdad’sbestfriend!chan who finally decides to take you on a fancy date after your fiery flirtations behind your father's back, but proposes to meet his penthouse after a casual event at your parents's house and eventually wait to feel your nice tight pussy wrapped around his cock.

dilf!chan and yourdad’sbestfriend!chan who knows that his friend is a tough guy, demands too much from you and he didn’t give you the sweet treatment and love that a father should give his daughter, so Chan loves to hold you tight in his arms while you act tender and submissive since you could never do it and forced yourself to have a strong personality.

daddy!chan who loves to fuck you hard, ramming rough your tight hole just because you love it too, and ask him to do it hard; but also enjoys sweet fucking you while giving you soft kisses all over your face while praising you gently for moving on his big cock at your soft and tender pace.

daddy issues

He was older than you and was also your father's friend and business partner… yet you could not refuse his request to accompany him to his apartment where, according to him, you could have a nice chat and a better time… your little games of seduction and flirting were not new; you were both captivated by each other when you saw each other for the first time.

You knew Bang Chan, at least only by name, as your father often mentioned him, however you never got to see his face as he was a partner in a company in another country and your father always saw him there, you knew he was significantly younger than your father and that he trusted him a lot… almost considering him as the son he never had. You were an only child so you could say that you were in a way, somewhat spoiled since your father was stupidly rich and you were the only legitimate heir to everything he has and built throughout his life, but still having such a position carries great consequences as the harsh discipline and demands that he always put on you… almost making you mold two personalities; in spite of everything you were kind, a bit cold, but kind, humble and very aware of your surroundings, qualities that Chan noticed and captivated him instantly as well. You were mature but at the same time immature and mischievous, you had a special look for him that only he was able to decipher, you drove him crazy.

You only knew little details about Chan when you didn't know him in person, scattered comments in the air that you listened to vaguely with interest from your father, that Chan is his partner from another country, that he got married a couple of years ago —whose wedding you couldn't attend because of your commitment at the university—, that he had a daughter, that he got divorced and was the one who accompanied your father on the little relaxing vacations he gave himself from time to time; honestly you couldn’t have played it down more, you always thought he was a mature man in a suit looking old. Until you saw him for the first time at a business dinner that you were forced to attend so you would be more related to what your father was doing and working for; you saw him, Chan, near that white door frame, wearing an elegant suit and with a glass in his hand that looked so small when he held it. Your father introduced him, the famous Bang Chan he always talked about and the one and only you usually didn't take the slightest interest in him.

You remember how handsome he looked and the big smile formed on your face as you heard your father say that he would be staying a little over a month to settle matters of their respective companies just in the city and, to your surprise, he would be staying in the small house —not so small, as it could almost be considered as a quite decent and elegant apartment for which many people would pay a great deal of money— near the swimming pool. The timing couldn't have been more perfect for you, you would be home for the academic break and you had Bang nearby, you had him in your sights from the first instant you saw him, his young and manly appearance, serious but relaxed countenance, his exquisite slightly pale skin and his beautiful full lips that you wanted to taste, in addition with an adorable accent, you suddenly found yourself fantasizing strongly about your father's best friend. All that night you couldn't take your eyes off him and… for Bang Chan, the feeling was quite mutual, he really didn't expect a pleasant surprise and a beauty like you from his best friend's daughter.

Your little fleeting games of seduction began without further ado, you noticed for miles the hungry gaze with which his eyes penetrated you; you wore short little skirts when he was supposed to be counseling you in finance, you accidentally caressed his body, you looked at him with sparkling eyes while seductively addressing him as Mr. Bang and you just loved being a little flirtatious around him…. when your father didn't see you, as he would never allow that kind of provocative and revealing attire on you; but you excused yourself with brave, of being a hot summer, and went out swimming in your bikini hoping Chan was watching you. It wasn't news to you, you wanted him so badly, and you were so used to getting everything you wanted.

And for him, of course he was watching you, he did it from the first instant he met you, he knew that you were not a normal kind of girl… Bang Chan always considered himself an observant person who appreciated and noticed every detail, since you met, he noticed the slight gleam in your eyes that grew more and more, your pupils dilating, your weak and fragile body excited to have him near, the feeling was mutual, since a long time ago he had not felt attraction for another woman again after his disastrous divorce and, what he considers, as failure in love, his only true love is his daughter, who is his priority, and his mother.

At first he decided to concentrate, you were a girl younger than him, as far as he knew, still studying at the university, you were not even studying a postgraduate degree; so it seemed absurd to him, you were young, immature and above all, the precious daughter of his best friend and business partner. But the days progressed, tortuous days in the Park's gigantic house, where you kept strutting in front of him like a little whore —or so he thought—, Chan only tensed his jaw, swallowed nervously with his throat dry, thirsty, trying to ignore the dirty thoughts of wanting to take you and put you in your place so you start behaving like the polite and fine lady you should be, carrying with pride such an important last name, but no, you decided to provoke him to the extreme, his blood heating up and fighting with his greatest instinct to not lift the little piece of cloth that would cover your ass, which you called a skirt, and hit your buttocks hard until you cry and lose little consciousness and that the only thing you remember is that you should feel ashamed.

Chan couldn't take it anymore, so after the first week he rented a luxurious penthouse where he would stay for a few nights to clear his mind… and get away from you, because once near you… his body reacted on its own and he was terrified that his instincts would take everything from him. He was stressed, he could not do that to his best friend, he trusted Chan fully and madly, he even confessed to him in such an intimate and vulnerable moment that he would leave in his hands two of his most precious things in life: his legacy and company and his beloved daughter, to advise you and teach you everything you need to know so that you, together with Bang, can take control and continue the legacy. Chan thought ironically if it must have been true when he told him that he would leave you in his hands, since he was dying for you to be in his arms right now.

Days passed and ignoring your immature games, Chan managed to get serious and advise you on company matters; you thought it was boring and expressed to Chan firmly how uninterested you were, to which he annoyingly puffed out his nostrils, thinking, but what a fucking spoiled brat... yet you were curious, competitive and a fast learner, so little by little Chan saw in you your maturity and determination, got to know your serious side and true personality… as if that wasn't enough, he was now more hopelessly interested in you.

After that he was more drowned in a sea of emotions that overwhelmed him more and more, sometimes you were a cute and pretty educated girl willing to learn, sometimes you acted provocatively seducing him and making his poor big cock cry of desperation, he wanted to fuck you hard without stopping, but also kiss you sweetly and take you on a date, he wanted to hear you talk freely about yourself, but he also wanted to leave you breathless while penetrating your delicate pussy. It wasn't until later when in a serious moment you confessed to him that your choice of college career was not something you enjoyed at all, you were doing very well when it came to your grades… but you felt it was only to please your father; Chan was surprised, he knew your dad was tough but he always seemed like a good family guy, but apparently he was not, he was always absent and filled his presence with material things all your life, Chan felt bad and… he remembered his beloved daughter away from him, it seemed wrong but, he thought he didn't want to give her those treats or be absent at any time in her life, but sadly he was thousands of miles away from her, just because of work. You sweetly told him that he still had a chance, since she was only two years old, it's not something like the little girl would remember anyway, that her father had to leave for a little over a month. And in a way you felt bad for yourself and for him... you felt so bad for wanting a man with children and because he had to get divorced because suddenly their relationship didn't work out, even with a child, which left you thinking too much....

Later in the madness of living under the same area, Chan witnessed something he shouldn't have, how your father yelled at you senselessly for partying around like a ‘slut’ when you should take care of your image for the sake of the whole family and that you could have appeared in the media, as well as claiming how you were bothering Bang Chan; since you had gone out to a club like any normal girl your age, frustrated at not getting the man you wanted, you decided to get drunk and text him while you were in that state, to which Chan ran to your rescue without hesitation. He took you home as you insisted and whined over and over about it, and sneaked you to his place, so your father wouldn't see you drunk; and you slept heavily in Chan's bed without realizing it, Chan died of tenderness and took care of you all night; however his help was in vain, the gate keepers and all your father's staff informed him of the situation, that Chan had to pick you up and that they saw you enter his room… making your father angry, not with Chan, but taking out all the anger on you, slapping you.

Chan was as devastated as you were, and ran after you, for the first time, giving you a hug as you cried into his chest. You hated crying, you hated being vulnerable in front of people and allowing them to show emotion in front of them… but with Chan, you were able to release yourself so well into his arms as he stroked your hair, you had forgotten when your last hug was and how warm human companionship can be.

After all that madness in such a short time, countless nights of both of you touching yourselves fantasizing about each other, Chan wanted to put an end to his agony, his heart ached for you and his cock cried so often for not being inside you. He was about to forget everything, to tell your father that he appreciated the stay and lodging at his house, but that he would like to leave for the penthouse he rented, where from there he would leave directly for work and only see you occasionally when you visit your father's company for your quick lessons; but he lost his mind when your father confessed to him that he would like you to date a son of another of his partners, a polite boy four years older than you… that was the straw that broke the camel's back, Chan hadn't realized how privileged he was and didn't take a chance, you were completely single, you didn't see any boy —as far as he knew-—, you barely left your house, so he finally asked you out on a date, a nice romantic date that he tried hard to plan since he knew very little about the city. You had a wonderful time and he couldn't believe it, for the first time in a long time, he was beginning to like and… slightly starting to fall in love with another girl.

Finally, the hot games of seduction and teasing were mutual, escalating into more and more dangerous territory until, Chan could no longer contain himself, he was fed up with so much play and erections in his pants that he had to take them off himself; so one simple Saturday where your father wanted to be a simple man and do things like most average men do to get along, like a barbecue, somehow or other Chan managed to get out of that situation as something suddenly came up for your father… leaving you and Chan alone. But you both knew you were not quite alone, there were eyes everywhere, so he suggested that you stop by to visit his temporary apartment.

You had accepted, your nerves increased with strength, you had not passed with Chan from light friction and dangerous closeness… but to be finally alone, your heart was pounding, you did not believe you had come so far. That Saturday you were exclusively bored, sneaking out a bit to see what your father and Chan were up to, who looked so handsome wearing a slightly baggy pale blue shirt, which showed through a bit underneath so he wore a white sleeveless shirt, blue jeans and simple sneakers… he looked so relaxed and cute. You fantasized about him in all his forms, in a suit acting like a rich and powerful man, the tender Chan hugging you while you cry and comforting you, the Chan best friend of your father who talks animatedly with him, and him casual, just him. You were so eager for him, you even told your best friends that this summer you had to fuck your father's friend, no was not an option, you had to have him.

He drove without another word to his place… you both didn't know what to say but you could feel the tension in the air, it was obvious he wanted to do a couple of not so tender and gentle things with you. You smoothed your skirt nervously as you rode shotgun in the car, luckily you always dolled up to see Chan and ever since that hug he always reminds you how pretty you look, out loud when you’re alone, and in whispers in your ear when people are around.

You entered the place even more nervous with Chan behind you… normally you are not the nervous type of girl, but something about being so close to Chan and what you always longed for made you even tremble.

“It looks nice” you managed to say as you walked into the place, clearing your throat a little.

Chan brazenly watched your silhouette up and down licking his lips, even your voice was driving him crazy, you turned to see him and found his worked and muscular body relaxed, giving you a little smile.

“But why would you rent an apartment if you're supposed to already have a place to stay...” you spoke again, getting closer to him and unable to avoid showing your little cynical and sarcastic side, “is it something rich men do or… is it to have more privacy with the girls you fuck?” your smile got bigger, waiting for a response from him.

But he didn't think it was funny, if only having sex with other women was so simple he would have done it so fast to forget about you, but he couldn't, it was just you, you and you. But Chan decided to relax a little and and match your energy.

“Oh yeah, hundreds of girls I bring here” he added amused, “Honey do you want something to drink…?”

You bit your lower lip, while your cheeks turned red as you heard him sweet talk you, you adored him madly and appreciated his attempt to be nice to you but you couldn't deny that you were incredibly horny, you were even slightly wet already, so you gently rolled your eyes then let out and small sigh, moving closer to Chan, you couldn't contain your body anymore, it was vibrating from all the possible scenarios that you couldn't wait another second for them to happen.

“Why don't you just kiss me already… isn't that what you've always wanted?” you said slowly returning to your seductive tone and took a step closer, almost brushing his lips as you look him suggestively in the eyes.

Chan stood still, incredulous of your boldness and that you wanted to start doing it at once… his breathing started to get irregular, his heart pounding as excited as it had never been before, he was crazy about you, although sometimes, with that cute and tender face you have, he expects you to act like that, tender and innocent, but you are absolutely the opposite, speaking boldly and not afraid to say what you are thinking about. And of course you were like that, at least in sex, not every day you had a man like Chan willing to fuck you, although you knew perfectly well that you could have them all in the palm of your hand, but no one was him, your sweet Channie who without realizing he knows too many private things about you that you fought so hard to keep them and hide, that you always carried with that weight; but you were like that, a bit daring to get what you wanted... but when it comes to feelings and expressing what you feel, that's when you really become the sweet, innocent young woman he slightly desires. But he doesn't mind anyway, knowing every facet of you is a challenge he loves to take.

“Please… Chan” you asked again almost in a whisper, you don't mind showing a little needy side of you to him, even though you were proud, you really wanted him badly.

Chan reacted coming out of his trance and quickly observing the details of your face, he grabbed your waist and finally caught your lips, feeling the same softness of the clouds and rising to a trance so heavenly by your touch, he was dying to kiss you from the first moment he saw you. Chan was slowly moving his expert lips over yours, you were so stunned that you didn't even know where to place your hands so you only left them lightly resting on Chan's chest, feeling the stiffness of his muscular and very well worked body, you couldn't believe it, you were getting too carried away with just simple kisses and your pussy started to throb hard so ready to take Chan's cock if he wanted to do it right now. Chan made you slowly open your mouth, at his torturous, slow and hot pace, with his left hand he held your face and finally the kiss became a little dirtier as he used his slick tongue mercilessly. The act made your pussy throb harder and covered more your panties with your sweet wetness. You took little gasps of air every now and then but Chan never let go of your mouth, you felt so good just kissing him that you slowly lost your sanity and the strength to stand; he gently began to stroke your back with his other hand, so you also wanted to be part of the soft touching while kissing passionately, so you directed your hand towards his cock, surprised to find his dick extremely prominent and erect in his pants, you almost moaned at the thought of how big his cock was erect, you were dying to see his cock completely uncovered. Chan moaned subtly as he felt your daring touch… but something inside him that night wanted to take absolute control of the situation, to give you orders and wanted to see you being a good girl for him, but you started touching him, provoking him more and teasing him just a little, but enough to squeeze your wrist hard with his hand that was previously on your back, pulling it away from his cock and, pulling a little on your hair to get you off his face, away from his lips. Leaving you confused and disoriented as you were extremely lost in his caresses.

“Don't touch until I tell you what to do, babygirl” he warned with a stern and defiant look at you, expecting a sweet nod of your head as you stare into his eyes so needy and submissive.

But it was just the opposite, you were so excited that all you could think about was making him feel good and how cute it would sound as he whimpered your name. You bit your lip, and tried to wiggle out of his grip on your wrist, going back to stroking his erection, ignoring him.

“Shit, but you're so hard and it's so big” you moaned, but quickly the tighter grip on your wrist and in your hair took over, stretching it, it confused you a little and you looked him straight in the eye.

“Why do you always have to do what you want and act like a fucking slut?” he blurted out suddenly with his eyes dark, the vein in his neck slightly exalted and his body full of lust.

You smiled broadly, something about him seeing him angry made you ten times more horny, you loved teasing him so much.

“Then treat me like one” you commented with a cocky grin, almost in an excited sigh, you were so agitated, your body throbbing, your breathing ragged and your heart seeming to want to burst out of your chest, forcefully feeling each beat rumble in your ears, you needed to fuck him desperately.

Chan smiled sideways in disbelief at your request… he was so willing to make you feel good and have a nice unforgettable night, of course he was going to penetrate you till you were breathless, but he would be gentle, ordering you around gently… but you were complicating things too much, suddenly you confessed to him how dirty you wanted the act to be.

“Is that what you want?” he added in a low voice, looking at you expectantly and intimidating you a little for the first time.

You nodded nervously as you felt the pressure of his grips even tighter, causing you a little pain.

“Alright” he replied, still looking intimidating and dominant, he brought his face closer to you, almost brushing your lips and tempting you to kiss him, “Dirty sluts don't deserve sweet kisses on the lips then” he mumbled in your face, pulling even harder on your hair, “They get fucked hard.”

You winced a little but he quickly released you, you couldn't hide your smile hearing him say that, you were so turned on and he hadn't even started touching you, you lowered your gaze to his pants, the protruding bulge in his blue jeans took your breath away, he was also so ecstatic without even starting.

“Take your clothes off now” he ordered you, still with an annoyed tone, but he was too turned on by you provoking him and acting like a spoiled cynic little bitch.

Chan pressed his lips together, licking them and putting his hands on his hips, with bated breath waiting to see the whole show. You looked at him and then lowered your gaze to your clothes, with light trembling hands that you were trying so hard to relax, you removed your top, your bra, your skirt and paused a little at your panties, bent down as you slid from the thin elastic and stared at him, his eyes captured on you, his gaze traveling quickly to every part of your body so as not to miss any detail, you gasped at the sensation of the fabric leaving your pussy and finally you were completely naked for him, smiling smugly at him. Chan couldn't resist, he had to touch you so he quickly drew your body to his, squeezing your ass, making you give a little squeak of surprise, finally, the sensation of his skin clinging to yours, touching you, your cheeks burned again, for so long you had fantasized about being touched and groped by him and now Chan found himself massaging your ass as you feel the friction of all his clothes, and his erection, joined to your naked body.

Chan watched you, your sweet pink lips begging to be treated gently, but you by yourself had decided to be treated like a whore so he would give you exactly the treatment, completely unaware of you and trying to erase the tender thoughts he has of you.

“Even fucking whores should be taught manners once in a while” he mumbled looking down at you from above and tightening his grip on your ass to which you moaned.

Chan carried you with ease, walking a few secluded yards to his living room in his large, soft white couch with its large mirror on the wall above it; he sat down and wrestled you onto his long, strong thighs face down, your lower abdomen feeling the pressure of the rough denim of his jeans, and your breasts brushing against the softness of the couch, leaving your ass in the air at his sight and will. You drew in a shaky breath, stirring uncomfortably from your position, predicting exactly what his next move might be about. Chan dropped his heavy arm on your shoulder blades impeding and bounding your movement a bit, having you just facing your very bounded front view; you felt him gently caress your ass and gently spread it apart to part your folds making you groan. Chan bit his lip at the sight of your wet and slightly swollen little pussy, you were so needy and having you just at his disposal made his cock throb enclosed in his tight pants, it was like his cock had a life of its own when it came to you, only with you he would get hard in seconds at the slightest interaction and that frustrated him madly… so he would finally get even for all the times you misbehaved and left him so needy, for all the times you behaved like a real slut to get his attention.

He inhaled air between his teeth gently shaking his head, thinking he had to, he wanted to see you cry and beg.

“I'm going to give you a little punishment babygirl, for all the times you went around provoking me when I never asked you to, behaving like a fucking slut, you won't count them, I'll spank you until you understand” he said plaintiff.

You sighed half-heartedly and excited, somehow you were so turned on by this foreplay of him acting domineering, of wanting to correct you and, without being able to think anymore, you felt the first strong and loud spank on your ass, your body contracting from the shock and impact, you gasped loudly, it had hurt so much and it was only the first one, but you couldn't help feeling that it was turning you on more, you thought that you would look a little crazy if you cum when he was hitting you, but you couldn't help it, your sensations were at the limit. Chan didn't even let your blood pressure molecules work for your well-being and stability, when he was already spanking you again, this time letting out a little cry and biting your lip hard.

“You have been a very bad girl…” he mentioned almost breathless panting with excitement as he saw your weak body react to the pain, “Very very bad for daddy, when all I wanted was for you to behave well” he spanked you again.

And you didn't know what surprised you more, the hit or that he had suddenly called himself daddy, making your heart pound harder…. daddy, oh my god you thought, he had finally said it, you thought it sounded so hot coming out of his rough voice full of pleasure and that ultimately that dirty fetish suited Chan so well, of which he felt a sexual arousal hearing you say daddy when you meekly and in a high pitched tone referred to your father like that, when clearly it was with a double intention, a random afternoon as you sucked hard on a popsicle while looking him coyly in the eyes. And Chan couldn't deny it felt so good to self-brand himself in that term in the sex act, it came so naturally to him, it made him feel empowered and in control, such a tender and dirty term only when both of you use it.

“Daddy” you moaned in pain and excitement as you felt your fourth spank.

“That's right babygirl, daddy is here to correct you every time you are misbehaving” Chan growled, stretching your hair and spanking you sudden times.

The shuddering sound of his big hand colliding with your destroyed skin made him hornier, Chan spanked you and watched your sweet reaction two seconds and continued to his activity, exciting him uncontrollably, with your body helpless and unwilling to move by his grip and your moans were more than enough, Chan wanted to release his cock once and for all, his balls ached and he could feel his precum drops coming intensely from his choked and pressed tip. You on the other hand were starting to whimper, you kicked hard and with awkward movements you struggled your right hand towards your ass to stop him from beating you, you had forgotten how many he had given you, but you were on the verge, your ass was a fiery red.

“Daddy, please” you whined with your voice trembling and in supplication.

“Please what?” he spoke sharply, releasing his grip on your hair and bringing it to your hand to stop you from impeding his action.

You were practically crying a little and tried to turn to look at him once he stopped leaning against your back, but you couldn't. You were about to answer, as you were feeling your buttocks burning intensely, but you were sore and limp, however before you could say anything you felt two long fingers in your hole, suddenly fucking you and causing your body to react.

“Do you want me to stop, you little slut?” spoke Chan, playing with his fingers at your entrance, dilating it for him, you gasped in response, “You are so fucking wet and all I have done is spank you, do you actually like being treated like a real slut?” Chan bit his bottom lip again as he felt your walls clench his fingers, thinking if this is how tight you are with his fingers he was dying to feel that tightness around his cock.

You were so focused on the shocks of vibration his long digits transmitted to you as you tried to forget the pain in your ass, but you shrunk your body a little with fear as you felt his left hand let go of your arm and started to caress your ass again, you didn't want to be spanked again, you understood it was hot at first but now it just hurt. You were already a mess, you are soaking wet, with your eyes watering and physically weak. Chan got a half smile on his face as he noticed your reaction.

“So have you learned to behave yourself or do you want me to remind you again how painful it can be not to obey daddy? Because I can break that lovely ass of yours again” he commented, almost sighing excitedly the last sentence as he leered at your round red ass with his hand marked on your skin, gently squeezing the damaged area, making you whimper again.

“Yes daddy” you responded quickly and desperately as you resented the violent rhythmic changes of his fingers on your sensitive pussy, “I-I'll be a good girl for you, ahh, fuck daddy” you moaned exquisitely feeling the skill of his fingers exploring your insides as he plunged into the sea of your wetness, grotesquely hearing the sound of your fluids colliding with the movements of his fingers.

You were not thinking clearly, you were so close to your first strong orgasm from the sensation of his fingers alone.

“Watch your pretty mouth, princess” he commanded as he heard you curse.

“S-sorry, daddy” you replied just to please him so he wouldn't spank you again; it felt so satisfying for you to call him that as he had you exploding with pleasure.

Chan removed his right hand from your entrance and with it he began to delicately caress your wet folds as he grabbed your hair again.

“Come here” he ordered you.

You moaned softly as you stopped feeling his touch and struggled to sit up, you slowly raised your body, sitting painfully on one of Chan's thighs, but as soon as you sat down, he gently lifted you off your hips, leaving you sitting on the couch and he quickly stood up. You winced at the sensation of the material of the couch rubbing against your sensitive, bruised bottom, rising uncomfortably pressing your palms into the cushioned couch as you watched Chan's domineering complexion in front of you from the bottom up, the two of you exchanged eye contact, Chan looking up at you haughtily, gently licking his lips as his long fingers went to the button of his pants to unbutton them; your attention was completely diverted, concentrating on the action, you subtly bit your lip, you brought your legs together a bit feeling all the wetness of your pussy and for a moment you forgot your discomfort, your heart raced again just seeing that Chan was starting to undress, you were so excited as if he was unwrapping a gift you were eagerly waiting for, Chan never took off his smug expression and enjoyed seeing the eager reaction of your fragile body; once with his pants unbuttoned, he quickly stripped off all his clothes, he always felt more comfortable naked, plus he could freely do everything with you, he raised his arms, taking off both shirts, pale blue collared and the white sleeveless one he wears underneath, finally revealing his marked abdomen and pecs, you sighed, thinking how well preserved he was for an older man with a daughter and thought about how much you wanted to ride his cock while holding on to his worked body... oh, his cock, you thought in a second, still with your mind a little fuzzy and your vision blurred between desire and your slightly watery eyes. Chan finally took off his jeans, also desperate to be on top of you, you appreciated his big bulge for a few seconds before he finally takes off his underwear, his erect and rigid cock coming out gracefully, so overstimulated and with its notorious tip of a bright pink with details of a brilliant white from his precum. You opened your eyes in amazement analyzing every detail of his member's anatomy… you had never seen such a thing, you always fantasized that it would be big but reality surpassed fiction a little, it was a little bigger than what you projected in your head… it was perfect and looked so appetizing, you didn't miss any detail of his cock, from the base and its pink and slightly tanned testicles, to its entire firm length with protruding veins scattered all over it, it looked so nice and neat, and you started to feel so perky and excited leaving aside the pain in your ass, you were so excited that the slight discomfort was even turning you on more. It was so impressive and big that you wondered how he was able to hide it all this time. Chan saw your tender gaze sparkle at the sight of his big cock.

“You like what you see, honey?” he laughed softly, bringing you out of your shock and making you look him in the face, yes you adored his cock and you hadn't even tasted it, but you loved the person who possessed it more, you wanted to see every expression of your adored Chan when he is already fucking you. You nodded.

He caught your gaze, so lewd and submissive for him as your body trembled slightly and your chest looked heaving breathing hard. Chan was enjoying every damn second of having you. You wanted to get close to him, to start jerking him off because of your seductive nature, but you held back all your urges with almost even physical strength. Chan got down on his knees, fully willing to appreciate the precious pussy that now belonged to him and he would surely destroy later, making his cock move freely at the rough movement making him moan which you loved to hear, you came back to your senses hearing it; Chan spread your legs and appreciated your poor needy cunt, with your entrance slightly dripping.

“But look what a mess you're made of… just for daddy, aren't you precious?” he groaned running his fingertips along your labia.

“Y-yes daddy.”

You gasped, trying to relax your body on the back of the couch and settling your body so that your ass wouldn't hurt so much, Chan was lost in detail all over the structure of your vagina and began to stroke your sensitive clitoral spot, contracting your body a little; for him suddenly his slow process burned inside his body, but he was a true believer of leaving the best to last and in this case it would be finally feeling your tight core hugging his cock. Chan continued to stroke the entire length of your folds without leaving your clitoris alone; you were so frustrated, and excited, the sensation of your orifice getting more and more lubricated was driving you crazy… if you didn't feel filled by his cock in the next five minutes you would start to cry with despair.

“But what a nice, needy pussy, ready to be cared for, do you want daddy to take care of it for you?” he said dirtily spanking your exposed vulva, getting you all worked up.

“Yes, daddy, p-please…” you were about to beg him to fuck you at once, beg him because it wasn't that hard to just stick his cock in you.

But once again your words were interrupted as you once again felt Chan's fingers in you fucking you with agility, making you once again lose your sanity.

Chan brought his hand to his member as his poor sex was also crying out to be attended, but he would never admit it, at least not in this sizzling scenario you both were creating… and he began to masturbate panting while his other hand attended to you. You saw him lustfully biting your lip thinking that you could be the one who could please him, take his cock and make him feel good, he didn't have to do it by himself. He came dangerously close to the center of your labia, feeling his hot breath and his big nose brushing lightly against your genitals, you saw him, confused and expectant that if he came near your pussy it was because he was going to start sucking it but… he just stood there for a few seconds with a naughty little smile on his face.

He stopped masturbating to bring his hand up and play with your labia without missing the delicious rhythm of his fingers on you.

“You want me to eat your pussy, huh, little slut? Do you want to feel my tongue making you scream?” he spoke between sighs in front of your sensitive area.

Your cheeks flushed and you couldn't agree more, you nodded excitedly with your eyes sparkling, but only got a small mocking laugh from Chan in response.

“Well too bad, princess, bad girls don't deserve to have their pussy eaten by daddy.”

You whimpered as you stopped feeling his hot breath near you and from Chan's sudden movements inside you filling your organ.

“Let me help you daddy, I want to touch you too” you mumbled senselessly, closing your eyes tightly so ecstatic to feel something inside your vagina.

“You want to help me huh, yeah? With what, baby?” your whole body collapsed and trembled, you were so close and he knew it.

“L-let me help you with your cock daddy, I want to make you f-feel good too” you babbled, arching your back as you felt you were nothing short of orgasm. “Fuck, I-I'm-gonna cum daddy” you cried out sharply and before you felt the jolt of your orgasm you felt one of Chan's hand on your cheek, slapping you then squeezing your cheeks hard with his hand so you could stare at him.

The slap surprised you but excited you too much once you caught his dark gaze behind his small eyelids.

“I told you not to curse” he spat annoyed without missing the rhythm of his fingers in your pussy, you lowered your gaze to his strong arm whose skin glistened from the lighting of the place and his veins were exalted in his hand working on your hole and folds, you felt him pull again on his strong grip “Look at me” he commanded “You're about to cum, huh, dirty slut?” he gasped seeing your taut complexion struggling for release, and, almost bursting to fill Chan with you, he stopped completely, “Oh honey I would have made you cum but don't forget tonight you are still a dirty whore at my beck and call, you will cum until I tell you to.”

You whimpered, letting out a heavy sigh as you watched him in annoyance and disbelief as he stood up, bringing his big cock closer to your face.

“Come on, didn't you say you were going to try to be a good girl and help me” he groaned inhaling air between his teeth and dropping his heavy right hand on top of your head.

You saw him, lewdly and quickly arranged your body, getting on your knees on the couch and leaning your torso and arching your back to get exactly level with his cock, you licked your lips hungrily and held his long and slightly curved cock, you gasped as you felt its rough but smooth texture in your hands… for a second you thought about getting revenge and leaving him so needy without letting him cum… but your mentality changed as you finally felt him, so erect and rigid and ready for you.

“Can I put it in my mouth daddy?” you asked innocently looking into his eyes as you felt his sex throb after hearing you speak.

“Fuck, yes, babygirl, take it all, show me you can take all of daddy's cock, show me what your dirty little mouth can do” he replied in a gasping whisper stroking your hair.

You smiled and your eyes moved to his manhood, you kissed his tip, covering your lips in his precum and continued to give him soft kisses all along his length as your hands moved down as well, until you reached his base, where your left hand gently caressed and squeezed his balls and you quickly ran your tongue along his erection until you returned again to his tip. You felt every bulge of his veins in your mouth thinking that his cock would become your new favorite plaything. Chan gasped, completely giving in to the sensation of his sex finally being touched and tightened his grip on your hair.

“It's so big daddy” you moaned looking into his eyes as your hands masturbated him, preparing to take him into your mouth.

“It has to go all the way in your pretty mouth slut” he replied watching you from below.

You watched all the way down to his cock from your angle, his strong neck, his protruding pecs and marked abdomen until you reached his clean shaved pubic area detonating small veins until you reached his huge erect manhood, you wanted him to fuck you so hard until it made you forget your name and the only one you can scream and remember is his… but for now, you were going to suck him off so good he would miss the feeling of your warm cavity on his cock.

You moved your tongue circularly on his glans, tasting every part of his salty pre cum combined with your saliva as you tentatively played with his foreskin a little, making Chan whimper, which made your body vibrate with excitement and finally you opened your mouth wide to insert it. Chan let out a little gasp at finally feeling his cock inside something, a cavity as soft and warm and like yours, as he felt his cock finally being surrounded by the wetness of your mouth and the sensation of your naughty tongue that wouldn't stop moving. Chan sighed heavily, closing his eyes and throwing back his head.

“Fuck, babygirl, that's it, keep g-going, don't stop” he gasped encouraging you to move more.

His cock was so big that only half of it fit with effort, the rest of its length you held with your hand, still you took advantage of the stiffness but flexibility of his member, making him explore the inside of your mouth, making Chan tremble as his sighs of excitement came more and more forcefully from his inside, pushing against his abdomen. You felt a tickle in your nose as it watered and became slippery, your whole expression changed, your cheeks rose up to your eyes, bothering you and making them begin to water, however you did not stop and began to move, bobbing your head up and down his length, trying to adapt to his size, and do it at your pace, however pleasure took over Chan and between gasps he began to pull your head penetrating your mouth gently; you moaned breathlessly and with his virility in your cavity, whimpering and releasing tinies mmm's, the liquids of both began to slide out of your mouth; Chan bit his lip at the submissive and helpless image of you with his big member in your mouth as you struggled to keep up and catch your breath, then he looked up, meeting his reflection in the big mirror on the wall, seeing himself with such a pleased expression from you pretty mouth giving it all to satisfy him, Chan thought he couldn't wait to see what a mess you became as he fucked you hard, seeing you both in that damn, big, strategic mirror.

Chan continued to thrust your head, you were so turned on again that your trembling, fumbling hand found its way to your pussy to begin stimulating your clitoris as your mouth grotesquely and sexually filled with your father's best friend's big cock. Chan flicked his tongue, smiled at the sight of you in a mess, your makeup smudged, your eyes watering and your hand struggling to touch yourself… however the last thing did not please him at all, he wanted to keep teasing you and have absolute control of your body, your emotions, your panting, your pleasure, everything must be because he was giving it to you, it all belonged to him. He pulled roughly on your hair, pulling his dick violently out of your mouth splashing your fluids all over your face, his abdomen and onto the couch; Chan without thinking again treated you like a whore, and slapped you again.

“You can't touch yourself, concentrate on my cock, cum like a slut by just sucking my cock if you want, but you are not allowed to touch yourself, today only daddy can touch you” he demanded, leaving your fragile cheek slightly burning with pain.

You looked at him in surprise, and without answering him or being able to take a breath, he reached up again to grab your hair, taking the base of his erection with his hand and directing it back to your mouth where its red tip brushed your wet lips.

“Open up, make me feel good, let daddy cum in that little mouth” he demanded again in a husky voice.

You looked at him, vulnerably with each limb weak and trembling, you opened your mouth and he without warning pushed until you felt his glans touch the bottom of your cavity.

“Daddy is going to fuck your throat, princess, hold on.”

Your body vibrated and your womanhood reacted violently to his warning, you made eye contact with him again, almost begging for mercy as your eyes watered, which only made Chan swell more, he bit his lip and the vein in his neck started to become more and more noticeable, it felt more than good, he was about to cum with an intensity like he had never done before and just from fucking your mouth. Chan rammed you gently and then found a way to slide his cock down your throat as he dug his hands into your hair; you whimpered, out of breath and contracting your body hard, out of air and begging for some, regurgitating as he touched the uvula of your mouth, upsetting your gag reflex, as you held onto his thighs, digging your nails in; Chan cried out in pleasure, reaching so deep until you felt the rough texture of the skin of his balls on your lips, rubbing them into you as he moved subtly, only to pull away quickly as he saw your body convulse for help. You caught your breath and coughed from the earlier sensation of a large intruder in your throat, you brought your hands to your neck… you still smiled at him, it was so fucking hot, you were immobile unable to do anything about his strong grip, fuck, now you loved deepthroating him.

He noticed your cynical reaction, you looked incredibly horny to him, he didn't think you were that kind of girl, all in all a wonderful girl willing to explore every game and open to anything.

“Make me cum” Chan added in a whine, now he almost pleading, releasing his tight grip on your hair and now stroking it. Your smile widened and now you continued at your pace, tasting and enjoying his entire length and testicles, your mouth up and down his cock as you massaged his balls; then running your tongue all over it as if it were your favorite candy.

“Mmm, you taste so good daddy, I love your cock, it's so big, mm” you babbled between his cock, looking into his eyes.

“Yeah?” he said raising his eyebrows and looking at you haughtily, weakening his body so much at every naughty flick of your tongue and strong suction, echoing grotesquely in the room the moans of both of you and the dripping sound of his cock colliding with your mouth and lips, Chan was so close, “Keep going babygirl, fuck, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, all over your fucking mouth, you're doing it so well, what the fuck” Chan babbled feebly.

And Chan ejaculated, inhaling hard air between his teeth and gasping loudly as he closed his eyes as he felt his cum shoot out of his glossy tip, landing on your ready, open tongue. You watched Chan cum, his abdomen contracting as he gasped loudly and you felt like a faithful happy puppy wagging your tail endlessly. You kept stimulating his glans, flicking in small circles as you subtly lubed it and withdrew the semen from your mouth, falling in sticky drips to the couch.

“Fuck” said Chan in exasperation for the last time before pulling his cock away from you.

Chan was hard again, not caring that he had just finished cumming, he was still very well loaded, now ready to fuck you, he leaned towards you, looking at you intimidatingly to which you shrank back coming up against the back of the couch, unsure what his spontaneous move might be now. Chan approached your face and with his thumb he roughly slid the liquids around your mouth, on your chin and under your nose, aggressively doing it even on your lips, then forcing his finger into your warm mouth, you didn't take your eyes off him, once again breathing heavily, you caught his finger and sucked it hard in such an erotic act while appreciating every detail of his handsome face.

“Good girl” he whispered, “Now spread your pretty legs and let me see your pussy to prepare it before I fuck you.”

Once again you came back to all your senses, your body trembled with exaggeration and excitement knowing that he was finally going to fuck you. You leaned back fully and spread your legs again showing him your exposed vulva, still throbbing and a mess from being soaked and moaning softly from your bruised ass. You looked at Chan's full complexion and once again your eyes were lost on his stiff throbbing cock, fearful that perhaps it was going to hurt a little…. Chan didn't hesitate and passed his hard cock rubbing it in your soaked folds while holding it with his hand, you moaned shuddering at the sensation, he was teasing you to the limit, Chan also gasped subtly at the pressure of his cock in your wet warm genital, rubbing it proudly in you, you swallowed, still with your mouth wet and sensitive from his cock in it just a moment ago and plucked up the courage to say to him:

“Fuck me please, daddy, I-I need you, please” you begged as you felt his firmness rubbing hard against your labia.

Chan watched you smugly with a smile as he saw you so needy, your pussy exposed, your makeup ruined and your glossy mouth dirty and your body with little drops of his cum.

“You want my cock so badly, huh?” he mumbled now teasing your entrance, rubbing his tip and rubbing it gently, almost thrusting it in which made you groan as you retained the loud sound biting your lip and enjoying it.

“Mmhuum…” you moaned nodding softly.

You thought Chan was about to fuck you in that position, you were so ready, your orifice dilated desperate for him, but you were surprised when he abruptly grabs your wrist, pulling you up and forcing you to stand, moving your body with ease, putting you on your back to him, you felt so hot from his sudden movement and quickly felt Chan move closer to your body, sticking his erection on your back, he held you by your breasts and whispered hotly in your ear,

“I'm going to fuck my way into you, babygirl.”

You saw the scene in the mirror facing you, half your body exposed and Chan behind you looking at you with desire. Once again your serotonin rose, this time without false hope as you finally felt Chan's cock slide all the way to your entrance, stretching your entire hole making you scream and you felt your whole canal slowly fill to the bottom, with the sensation of Chan's body crashing against yours, he also groaned as he was inside you, with your tight walls choking his swollen cock; you whimpered and arched your back a little, now enjoying it and shifting your hips gently to adapt to his size. Chan saw the sight of his cock buried in your tiny hole, stretching for him and gasped at your subtle movements.

“And you're fucking yourself already huh? Don't move babygirl, I'm gonna be the one fucking you tonight, remember.”

Chan grabbed your hips, pulling your body away and then tackling him, exquisitely sliding his cock into your walls, you both gasped. He meant to be gentle at first, but eventually found his pace as he began to pound you hard, inserting his entire firm length into your tightness, “Fuck” Chan mumbled, looking at your red and slightly bruised ass, as his pelvis and balls pounded you hard. You were so wet that amidst his moans and sound of his skin slapping also came the sound of your wet pussy meeting his cock.

“Fuck, baby, you're so tight, what a fucking tight cunt, so good, baby” Chan whimpered, you were deliciously tight for him which made him feel divine, finally everything he had sighed about so many nights in frustration, wanting to falsely set limits with you, was just now, fucking you hard.

“Fu-, it's huge daddy it hurts but it feels so good” you mumbled as you were rammed hard with your voice cracking between each stroke he gave you.

Chan grabbed your arms now, holding you still and doing what he wanted with your body, deliberately pounding you with his big cock, enjoying every inch of you until he reached your cervix hitting it hard. He stretched your body, pulling it together with his, making the thrusts deeper, almost vigorously moving your guts, feeling the bulge of his cock protrude into your belly; Chan wrapped his right arm around your chest and neck, headlocking you softly, while his left hand went down to your clitoris, caressing, you trembled and moaned at the same time, you were losing strength as you were extremely filled with pleasure and literally filled, physically by Chan's cock, you saw his glowing big arm wrap around you, smelling his sweet scent as he gently brushed your chin, he put his head close to your ear and whispered dominant:

“Look how I fuck you, huh, is that how you like it little slut?”

You gasped breathlessly, and looked up to see your humiliatingly weak body and your expression of pleasure in the mirror, ecstatic at your insides being destroyed. Chan was also beginning to tremble, he was so empowered but at the same time weak, he had cum intensely before and your walls were sucking his cock heavenly; so in one swift movement, he sat down on the couch, without getting out of you, giving you a better sensation of his balls rubbing against your pussy and his smooth, marked skin of his abs touching your back; you whimpered at the sudden motion, as your buttocks were still sensitive, Chan continued to hold you by the neck, ramming you hard bringing him closer and closer to his glorious second orgasm. Once again he stroked your sensitive spot on your pussy and positioned his face next to yours, so you heard every hot and needy whimper of your secret lover, every sigh and exasperated moan, being music to your ears.

“Look at you, taking my cock so well into that soaked tight pussy, don't you love when daddy fucks you hard, sweetie?”

You gasped raggedly, “Yes, daddy, I love it”, but your body quivered harder, finally so close to your orgasm.

“Fitting my cock in your tight hole like a fucking slut, god, you feel so good” Chan whimpered at the sensation of his swollen cock shrinking, struggling to enter you fully, destroying you so heavenly, while Chan held back the urge to kiss you dirtyly.

He accelerated his movements, both of on your clitoris and his thrusts, lifting his hips harder, pounding you hard.

“Oh, daddy, I'm going to cum, can I cum?” you whimpered shuddering almost on the edge, you had held back so many orgasms you were about to burst.

“Go ahead princess, cum on my cock, isn't that what you always wanted?”

Chan groaned, smelling strongly the scent of your hair and moved his arm, now only to his hand, placed on your neck and beginning to choke you. You felt his strong grip, shortness of breath and your heart pounding intensely as your pussy kept being rammed, you brought your hands to his at your neck, feeling every exalted vein of his bony upper limb with your sight blurring completely, you whimpered loudly for the last time and unloaded into him, relaxing the tension in your muscles and releasing all your sweet cum.

“Fuck” grunted Chan as he became aware of your warm cum wrapping around his dick, and his grip on you gradually became less tight, “I'm gonna fucking cum inside of you, babygirl, oh, fuck, fuck” he whined and he continued ramming you until he cummed hard inside of you.

You drop your completely tired and yielding body on Chan's chest, both of you with heaving breaths. Chan lift you up a little from his length to witness the obscene scene of your tired cunt and wide open hole with his cock inside, so needy and twitching while spilling out your sweet cum coating his cock, sliding down reaching his balls. He smiled incredulously and proudly, after he promised himself that he wouldn't touch his friend's beloved daughter…

“Fuck, babygirl, that was great” commented Chan breathlessly with a sweeter tone as he gently fondled your breasts, “Come here and kiss me” he asked sweetly.

You were shaken, your vision blurred and throbbing from such an intense orgasm, yet you gave your all to turn your body and join your lips with Chan's, you loved being fucked by him, but all the time you missed the feel of his soft lips. Chan kissed you sweetly, playing with your nipples, an act of which if he kept doing there was no doubt you could become aroused again.

“Maybe next time I'll fuck you gentler, okay? Forgive me if I was too rough, princess, was I?” he whispered tenderly, softening his gaze to a cuter one in seconds.

You softly denied looking at him tenderly, “No, daddy, I loved it… but I would also love it if you fuck me gently next time” you smiled shyly at him.

Chan found your tired face adorable, your cheeks red, still so flustered trying to calm you down, he smiled back and released your tits to let his hands rest on your thighs, caressing them and placed a soft sounding kiss on your shoulder and said:

“Do you want to stay on my cock for a while or…?”

“Oh, I'm sorry” you interrupted him opening your eyes in surprise not realizing that maybe he wanted to be done, which he laughed softly at your reaction, narrowing his eyes and stretching his nose a little.

However that wasn't his intention, Chan didn't care, he also refused to get out of you, to feel you from him, he just wanted to know if you would stay longer to get into his totally tender mode and not get hard inside you.

“You want me to clean you up? Geez you've made a mess, beautiful.”

You denied again embarrassed.

“No, no, can I go to the bathroom?”

“You'll clean yourself up like a big girl” he continued playfully.

To which you provocatively and innocently replied, “Yes, may I daddy?”

Chan let out a giggle and nodded, stroking your back, “Would you like some dinner, princess? It's late, will you stay here?”

You nodded blushing, “Yes that's fine and… I guess I can say I went to stay with a friend.”

Chan smiled, “Won't it be very suspicious that we left together and absent at the same time?”

“Like if my dad would care” you replied, a little annoyed.

“I think he will mind if he finds out that it's me corrupting his sweet daughter…” snapped Chan.

You moved closer to his face and with a big mischievous smile you whispered, "Then let's always keep it a secret" you kissed him quickly.

That caused a reaction in Chan, again you and your subtle seduction games but you stood up, sliding his cock one last time and it falling gracefully again close to its owner, causing him to let out a soft moan as he still saw how soaked both sexes were joined together.

“Where is the bathroom…?” you asked, uncomfortable, looking for your clothes to cover yourself as you didn't want to walk around naked like one without shame.

He watched you tenderly as he noticed you, “Down this hallway to the bottom right” he answered you, reaching down to get his blue shirt, “Here, babygirl, put it on.”

You smiled shyly at him and put on his shirt of which was of little helpless as your body was see-through in it, he looked at you more tenderly as he saw how huge it looked on you and you walked shyly to the bathroom.

Chan got up, cleaned up and tidied the mess a bit, ordered dinner and tried to find something comfortable for you… but none of his clothes weren't going to fit you. You came out of the bathroom and looked for Chan until you found him near the TV in his living room trying to put something on, looking like a real dad looking for what to watch on TV, you approached him with a smile and hugged him to which he immediately reciprocated.

“I tried to find something for you, but I don't think my clothes fit you, but don't worry beautiful, I put your underwear in the washer so you'll be comfortable.”

You lifted your face and looked at him sweetly, “I guess I have to stay like this, with nothing in my pussy for a while” you commented, playfully.

“It doesn't have to be so alone, your pussy if that's what you want” Chan whispered, sliding his hand suddenly and with his fingertips caressing your exposed folds.

You moaned, your eyes began to darken and your pupils to dilate. Chan let out a giggle and withdrew his hand, he was just teasing you a little.

“I ordered us sushi, okay? Wanna watch a movie?” he said still with a slightly teasing expression, to place a soft kiss on your forehead.

But Chan knew damn well you'd never end up paying attention to the stupid movie anyway, he still wanted you so bad.

₊˚⊹♡ bonus imagine:

Video you take of your new secret lover, in your hidden encounters in his apartment; him looking so relaxed and handsome in his black sleeveless shirt as the two of you make out passionately, waiting for the situation to escalate to something more fiery, exciting you so slowly and exquisitely as you feel his lips, but suddenly an important call interrupts you, Chan has to take it, telling you that all his attention will be on you in an instant, so fast as soon as he finishes an important issue and he turns on the bed to grab his phone so he stays positioned with his abdomen pressed against the bed. You frustrated and a little annoyed you get up from the bed and grab your phone which is on the other side of the room, but you came across a Chan so tender and focused on what he was doing so you couldn't help but take a video of him, to which he promptly notices and reacts in a sweet way.

(i had to made it a gif cause the video glitched the post)

The kind of selfies he sends you when you're not together because he had to go back to his city, followed by a: I miss you so much

I've been thinking about you so much, I can't wait to see you on friday, my princess❤️

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