#i think the reasonable thing is you can make them fuck because holes are holes or whatever but they can't have kids

[rosicheeks]

The thing about people with bigger than average dicks is that they seem to think being bigger is always better. And they might not even have skill with it, it just stretches you more 🙄

^^^ true

#this is exactly why I try to always say #I don’t give a fuck about size #if you know how to use it and actually please me #that’s all I care about #I don’t mean to be stereotypical #but I also feel like most people with big dicks think that’s all they have to do #oh well I have a big dick so I don’t need to do anything special #but in reality foreplay is the most IMPORTANT part #I think the reason why all of the times I’ve had sex was ya know alright was because the foreplay wasn’t the best #anyone can fuck #anyone can jab their cock inside a hole #but it all depends on how you make them FEEL #praise them #kiss them #pls dear goddess eat them out if they want #also ‘stretching you more’ isn’t always a good thing #sometimes it just hurts more if you aren’t properly prepared and warmed up #so that’s why I’m kinda scared of someone which a big cock #like buddy you better be prepared to give me foreplay and warm me up before you try and slide that thing inside me #I’m telling you right now without enough foreplay that is not going to be pleasant #definitely for me but also for you #ask #anon

[moinsbienquekaworu]

Guess who got a deleted Zootopia scene in her recommended this morning and decided to go back and finally finish the one and only Zootopia fanfic she ever read?

#it's called une route à parcourir à deux (a road to travel together) it's 533k and it's good #ALSO IT INTRODUCED ME TO OMEGAVERSE #like no joke it's the first fic i ever read that had scent stuff and marking and whatnot in there #and i remember reading it and being like 'oh shit that's a cool idea' #let me tell you when i reamised omegaverse was a thing and it wasn't only for furries i was overjoyed #btw quick question cause i never checked out the zootopia fandom or whatever #the fic is nick/judy and i personally think it makes a perfectly normal amount of sense #like you know. they go from 'enemies' to friends. why not lovers as well. you get the idea right like it makes sense #well the only person i told about this back then was vehemently against the ship #and i wonder if it's just a normal reaction or if he was getting influenced by his racism there #yeah long uh. long story. we don't talk anymore. but he was a far right racist so i think that would have an impact on his opinion of - #- an inter species relationship y'know? #anyway yeah someone tell me the ship makes normal amounts of sense #what doesn't make sense is the author acting like he can get her pregnant like?? how would that work?? #i think the reasonable thing is you can make them fuck because holes are holes or whatever but they can't have kids #i mean that wouldn't work. they're incompatible. this happens it's normal they can adopt or something #listen this fic has a PLOT it's not the best written piece of literature in the whole world but it's pretty good #and it develops the world in a cool way! #olay whatever the oversharing is over don't comment on 13yo me's incredible blindness to flags redder than a communist protest #wow i have a ramble tag now

[sing-you-fools]

thinking about Good Omens 2. and stories, and the shape of them, and Terry Pratchett and his themes. and something clicked.

Aziraphale is cackling.

it's not just the ball. he spends the entire season trying to force the story into a shape it's not, and everyone suffers for it.

i've seen some less than charitable takes on Crowley's actions and they all ignore how much Crowley did try to talk to Aziraphale, did try to ask Aziraphale questions, did try to help, only to be ignored or brushed off. because his questions, his offers, they didn’t fit with the story Aziraphale was telling himself.

quiet, gentle, and romantic. it was, if you're our favorite Angel - right up until the end, at least. because he decided that's the story he was in. from the very beginning, he's off in la-la land, living out this romcom with a cute little mystery wrapped up in it, completely ignoring what's actually going on around him. i'll set Nina and Maggie up! (completely ignoring that Nina tells him she has a partner, and at that point, he has no reason to think she's anything less than happy.) i'll take ~our~ car to go do investigate this silly little mystery (he's not taking it even a little bit seriously!) while you stay here and run the bookshop and it will be so quaint and domestic! soon we'll dance and confess our feelings that we obviously share because we're already so clearly a couple we just need to finally say it!

Crowley knows the entire time that they're in a horror story but Aziraphale ignores every attempt he makes to point that out because it doesn't fit the story he decided he's in the middle of.

he brushes off Crowley's concerns and questions - his QUESTIONS! - like they're nothing. he doesn't want to see it, so he doesn't. and Crowley should have told him more?

why would he?

when you are CLEARLY in distress and it's being BLATANTLY AND WILLFULLY IGNORED, what the fuck are you supposed to do? "Crowley didn't comminicate" well okay if I were having a panic attack about something and my husband completely ignored it, chattering on about our dinner plans or whatever, that wouldn’t exactly make me want to open up about what was wrong! that would send the very fucking clear signal that he didn't want to know!

words aren't the only way we communicate and Crowley's body language, the entire season, is that of someone who is living in a horror story, knows he's living in a horror story, and is fucking terrified. if Aziraphale were paying any attention to Crowley instead of focusing all his energy trying to set things up just so for the big climax of his love story, he would know something major was wrong.

why would Crowley have told him how cruel Gabriel was about the execution when Aziraphale's already so thoroughly convinced that heaven is pure and good and has shown over and over through the millennia that he's not really open to considering that it can be cruel!

just look at them at the dance. Crowley freaking out because there's a horde of demons out there and Aziraphale giggling as they go to dance. that's the whole season!

you know who Crowley reminds me of this season?

he's watching helplessly and with increasing levels of distress as Aziraphale shoves every plot point into the romcom hole even though it's obviously not remotely romcom shaped! and i'm sick of people saying he was abusive because he raises his voice about it a few times!

#good omens #good omens season 2 #crowley #aziraphale #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #square hole #sing-you-fools #1k #5k #neil approved

[angelltheninth]

Can I request a Nanami x fem reader where his girl jokingly pulls him in by his tie at work but she doesn’t know how turned on he gets by it? Pent up Nanami my beloved

I love ties for this exact reason Anon.

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, workplace sex, tie pulling, rough sex, panties to the side, desk sex, pent up Nanami Kento

A/N: Ties were a great invention.

Pent up!Nanami tries his hardest to not let his frustration get the best of him during work. You don't even know the half of it really, how hard he has to hold back when you wear shorts skirts. There should be some kind of dress code because his cock is not having a good time when he sees you in those.

Pent up!Nanami would never admit it but he has jacked off in the bathroom stalls more then once. He hates makes the kind of mess that he does, and worse having to hold back groans in case someone walks in. He has a reputation to uphold.

Pent up!Nanami gets so hard when you pull him by his tie and into a playful kiss. It may be playful for you but for him it's like an invitation. Good thing he had his glasses on so you didn't see the way he closed his eyes shut when he felt that little tug and the press of your lips against his right after.

Pent up!Nanami sets his tie back into place the first couple of times you pull on it so you don't really think there's anything wrong with him. The kisses are always short, quick, in between things that don't let you see the aftermath of them, his pants tenting and his hand cupping over the bulge.

Pent up!Nanami has officially had enough of your teasing. If you're gonna be like that then you better be ready to do something about his erections too. He can't do all the work. Well he can but he would really prefer not to when your holes are right there and wet and willing.

Pent up!Nanami considers taking his tie off when he pushes you against the desk but decides against it. He can undo the buttons on his shirt, he can take off his suit jacket, his pants can be around his ankles, his glasses can be off, his hair can be messy and slick with sweat but that tie stays on.

Pent up!Nanami won't take your panties off either, he doesn't have the patience to anymore, he will only move them to the side. Better yet you can hold them to the side while he fucks his cock into you. You already know how wet they are right? Then what do you think you do to him when you tease him all day?

Pent up!Nanami grips the edges of the desk with full strength, his veins bulging as he rocks you and the desk back and forth from the reckless, hard pace he's decided on. You can't even get a grip around him with your legs because he keeps nudging them apart every time. You can only hold onto his shirt, hair or tie.

Pent up!Nanami has to put his hand over your mouth to keep you from moaning. But he's not having an easy time either, and he's all out of hands. Well there is his tie still, he can bite down on that. You never thought you'd see him so far gone that he has to gag himself with his own tie to keep noises down.

Pent up!Nanami decides on a special tie that he will wear to work because he can't fuck you every time you pull on his tie. When he wears his special tie it's a sign that he wants to fuck you. Kind of like people leave a tie on the door handle.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami smut #kento nanami

[scoobysnakz]

did i add slight fluff at the end bc i can’t bare angst (even though i wrote it myself) ?? yes. but that’s not important

loser!miguel who isn’t at all amused when he first meets you, his new lab assistant who is so insistent on kindness in the workplace, especially in the forms of physical contact.

loser!miguel who has to adapt to you because he’s never met someone like you before. most people avoid him like the plague, intimated by both his personality and appearance. but you don’t care, you just keep pushing his boundaries much to his dismay.

you can’t take a hint, no matter how many times he yells at you or shrugs off your hugs you keep acting the same. yes, you pour countless apologies out of your heart, arms itching to pull him into a sympathetic hug, but for some reason you can’t stop seeking out some form of physical contact.

loser!miguel who slowly becomes accustomed to your high fives whenever a project goes successfully, your good morning hand squeezes as you slide next to him at the desk, the good evening hugs that leave his heart hammering.

loser!miguel who lets you lean on him when the meetings get too long, enjoying the fact that it’s him you chose out of everyone else.

loser!miguel who suddenly can’t get enough of you. he’s gotten that sliver of attention and it’s gone straight to his cock head.

loser!miguel who has experience with women but has never been as infatuated with anyone as much as you. he finds himself thinking of you at the most random moments of the day, wondering if you’ll like certain things, how hard you’d laugh at the crude joke someone on the subway made, how you’d feel pressed between his body and his bedsheets.

loser!miguel who ends up stalking you on instagram, desperately trying not to get hard at the sight of you posing with your friends at the beach. it’s not his fault your swimsuit leaves so little to the imagination.

loser!miguel who gets lost in the way your bare thighs look that he ends up falling down a rabbit hole of impure thoughts.

his mind is plagued with thoughts of your thighs smothering his face as he laps at your aching cunt, the plush skin covered in bite marks and his saliva.

he can’t stop thinking about how easily his cock would slip in and out of them as he fucks your from behind, hand covering your mouth as he pressed you against the wall of the lab, whispering sickly sweet praise that makes your gummy walls flutter around him perfectly.

loser!miguel who has to start rejecting your hugs because the thought of you feeling his erection while innocently wishing him a good night makes him… hard ?

loser!miguel who hates the way you frown whenever he rejects your hugs. you thought you were making progress !! but now he just tells you now is not the time or just simply ignores you.

it stings right to his core seeing your pretty smile falter as you slump away. he can’t bring himself to apologise but he can’t hug you, not when his cock is throbbing from the smell of you.

loser!miguel who palms himself off in the shower to the thought of your hugs, the one he denied just hours ago. how badly he craves the warmth of your embrace, to feel your body pressed against him while telling him to get home safe.

he’s never had someone care about him like this before.

loser!miguel who buys countless fucktoys but no flesh light can mimic the warmth of feeling your cunt, the feeling he’s made up inside his head anyways.

his off days are spent one of two ways: fucking his fist and/or toys relentlessly to your instagram, or simply staking out the coffee shop you mentioned briefly in conversation weeks ago.

loser!miguel who finally can’t hold back when you completely give up on trying to hug him. you don’t even approach him anymore, just look up at him with wide puppy dog eyes as you call out a somber farewell from the other side of the lab.

he walks up to you as you slip your jacket on, gaze flickering down to your chest momentarily before landing on your face. “can i walk you to your car?”

“i get the train.”

“then let me walk you there then.”

> next

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #spider man 2099 #spiderman 2099 #miguel x reader #miguel x you #fluff #miguel fluff #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel #miguel x y/n #miguel smut #loser miguel

[wettestnjaay]

Love your stranger things work!! 🤤😍

PLEASE MAKE A MARVEL OR SPIDERMAN TWT LINKS PLZ 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

MERRY CHRISTMAS 2 YOU ALL <3 !

MARVEL - PORN LINKS !

VOL. 1 - [ MALE ~ !PART1 ]

NEW TAGLIST | REQUEST | WATTPAD

SEND REQUESTS &MAKE SURE TO DO THE TAGLIST !!

INCLUDES: Thor Odinson, Peter Parker { TOM & ANDREW }, Steve Rogers `Captain America, Tony Stark `Iron Man, Dr. Stephen Strange, Loki Laufeyson, Eddie Brock/Vemon, Bucky Barnes, Bruce Banner/Hulk (MORE IF REQUESTED)

WARNING: these are links that contain porn, sexual activities.. so be aware.

——

↣ THOR ODINSON

THOR feels like heaven when u ride him .

THOR loves it when you worship him to beyonce <3 !

THOR pounds inside of u in the closet next to the meeting room .

THOR like some wild shii, and ur just here for it .

↣ PETER PARKER

PETER always wanted to eat you out, and you finally let him .

PETER1 & PETER2 both came too help u release some stress .

PETER doesn't like u teasing him at school, so he fucks u at home.. long and hard

PETER failed his mission, and needs you .

↣ STEVE ROGERS

STEVE loves it when you use him as your person dildo .

STEVE loves ur special halloween costume he even fucks u in it .

STEVE is madly in love with your tight little pussy, he wants to cum inside u and fill u all the way up all the time .

STEVE can fuck you all night long, he doesn't care.. he js needs you wants u and has to feel ur insides, he wants your legs shaking and everything inside of u.

↣ TONY STARK

TONY will fuck you anywhere in the avengers hq, he doesn't give a fuck .

TONY will never let u bath in peace, u have to be full of his cock .

TONY special bday present, he's been dying for this .

TONY breeds you full, not letting a single one of his kids fall out of ur prefect pussy hole .

↣ DR. STEPHEN STRANGE

DR. STRANGE find u in the kitchen and place u on to his dick .

DR. STRANGE loves the feeling of their cum spill inside of u .

DR. STRANGE wants u to jerk him off and keep eye contact .

DR. STRANGE can't keep his hands off of u when ur riding him sooo good .

↣ EDDIE BROCK / VEMON

EDDIE is a real softy when your on top of him .

EDDIE randomly pops in at your apartment and fucks u brainless standing up .

EDDIE & VEMON always take care of u, ur their little baby and fuck toy .

EDDIE/VEMON has u bouncing babbling and more on his dick .

↣ LOKI LAUFEYSON

LOKI has been mad all day, & what's better than release all his anger out on u ?

LOKI always wants it raw, as soon as u wait up, as soon as your home.. anywhere.

LOKI thinks he should start punishing you more after this .

LOKI has to fill u up with his cum before leaving on a mission .

↣ BUCKY BARNES

BUCKY has attachment issue.. he has to show u that he loves u and he has to be close by u, he has to b deep inside u .

BUCKY does not play with it comes to creampies and backshots .

BUCKY doesn't think u can handle him, so u show him u can .

BUCKY will never stop breeding u, ur gonna b his little momma someday .

↣ BRUCE BANNER / HULK

BRUCE always lets u take control, because your is prefect girl ^^ .

HULKS dick straight in ur cunt, over and over and over .

BRUCE wants u bouncing on his dick while natasha watches and help .

BRUCE gets a promotion and wants u to make u happy .

| SORRY FOR NOT POSTING, I'VE BEEN REALLY BUSY BUT IM HERE NOW, AND ILL B FEEDIN U PUMPKINS <3.

~ BE PREPARED FOR A LOT OF P LINKS BECAUASE I HAVE A COMPLE OF REQUESTS FOR THEM, AND FEEL FREE TO REQUEST ONE OF ANY FANDOM !!

` ILL START THE TAGLIST SOON IT JS MAKES ME NERVOUS FOR SOME REASON !

IF ANY MISTAKES OR ERRORS PLEASE LET ME KNOW !

©️ trustynjaay

#mommyruetruue #mommyruuetrue #black!bimbo #iiovetruue #truueiiove #trustynjaay #truue investment #truue investigation #about njaay #[ njaay/ruue : talk time ] #black!reader #black!fem!reader #woc!reader #peter parker #p link #p links #marvel #marvel masterlist #steve rogers #tony stark #bruce banner #hulk #eddie brock #vemon #thor odinson #loki #loki laufeyson #bucky barnes #dr. strange #stephen strange

[gallusrostromegalus]

Hi Gallus, I'm doing some worldbuilding and you seem like you could be connected enough for me to find an answer to the problem of dwarven agriculture. Many problems are created by the requirement of no sunlight, as even the common response of mushrooms still need light to break down decomposing matter as a primary energy source. Currently, we're thinking that they use a special type of mushroom that breaks down rocks in an energy-producing reaction, giving them enough energy to absorb nutrients and grow - this would serve a second purpose in explaining why building a massive hollowed-out mountain fortress doesn't produce an equally large amount of gravel.

Any thoughts? We're grasping at straws kinda lol

Well, some thoughts:

There's plenty of cave systems (especially Karst Systems) that are at least partially open to Sunlight- especially the kind that have rivers running through them, which is something else that's really helpful for agriculture.

For Example: This Cool AF Sinkhole cave in china that has an entire Forest in it

Now There's a view to put outside the city Gates!

Karst specifically is a landscape where underground rivers hollow out the limestone underground and then the cave roofs fall in. This kind of landscape answers your gravel question nicely: the hollowed out mountain does produce an equal amount of gravel, but the gravel turns up as the sandy banks of the river system hundreds of miles away.

So, there's your sunlight that can be used directly, or reflected or magically transferred deeper into the cave system.

Or they just put more holes in the roof! Unless your dwarves are also vampires, there's no reason for them to not hollow out a few Skylights into the mountain too.

But let's talk some other cave ecology and agriculture!

For starters, your dwarves could be sitting on top of a literal gold mine that would allow them to trade for a lot of needed materials and crops.

And by gold mine, I mean Salt Mine.

Historically, salt comes out of hollowed-out mountains and is worth more than gold.

Also something the humans have historically fought a bunch of wars over, so there's some free political tensions if you needed that!

I can also mean the possible fucking enormous piles of bat guano that accumulates in Karst caves, which is the world's most insanely good fertilizer, and ALSO something that has been worth more than it's weight in gold.

Speaking of Gold, another thing that often lives in sinkhole caves in abundance is BEES. turns out, limestone stalactites are a terrific place to build a hive that is difficult for predators to reach, stays dry and the stone substrate means the hives can reach many tons in weight before they start having structural issues. That sweet, sweet insect-derived liquid gold is already important to Dwarves in a lot of folklore- it's really hard to have a Traditional Dwarven Mead Hall without the honey to make the mead, you know?

So you got your mushrooms, you got your sunlight-grown sinkhole crops, you got your traded goods and you got your source of alcohol- the only thing really missing from an ancient food pyramid here is a staple carbohydrate. To that end, may I propose our good Peruvian Friend: The Potato.

Grain crops aren't actually all that nutritious and were kept around in ancient societies more as legal tender that kept the peasants busy, because wheat or rice takes months to grow, an enormous amount of labor to harvest, and wheat also needs to be milled before it can be turned into food- all enormously time-consuming processes that keep peasants busy and easy to rule tyranically over.

Potatoes though? Pop one in the ground in spring and you can dig up fingerlings all summer, and if you make potato towers, you can harvest up to 40lbs of delicious, easy-to-prepare-and-store carb out of a single plant- a real space-saver for the limited sinkhole skyspace.

If your dwarves have cheese, the potato makes even more sense, because Potato+dairy is the easiest, most nutritionally complete survival food there is.

Finally, consider: Dwarven Vodka.

This post is open for anyone to comment suggestions on, but that's my take: put your dwarves in a Karst-sinkhole cave system, give them a highly in demand resource like salt or guano, bees, and taters. Boom. Whole agriculture, economy and political scheme starters.

[netherfeildren]

Pink : Part II: I See Your Father as My Father

Series Masterlist : Part I

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Content Warnings: No outbreak AU; Welcome to the father-in-law suck and fuck extravaganza; Fix-it-fic but the thing that needs fixing is a person; Daddy issues; Daddy kink; Divorce; DD/lg dynamics; Older man/Younger woman; Inappropriate relationships; Self esteem issues; Discussions of emotional and mental abuse; Unhealthy coping mechanisms; Ass play lite; Unprotected sex; Creampie; Praise kink; Aftercare; Size kink; Spitting; Come eating; Thigh fucking; Oral sex

A/N: Check the tags on the masterlist, as well!

Word Count: 12.3K

Rating: Explicit 18+

Read on AO3

Ko-fi

2. I See Your Father as My Father

When he swings the door open, he’s still half pulling a t-shirt over his curl messed head, faded gray, rust orange longhorn across the front, a flash of hair sprinkled belly. All man, man, man. It stretches over his broad shoulders so the holes strewn there stretch and gape wide making your face heat unbearably. And he’s struck silent for a second, realizing it’s you taking up space on his front porch, trying to hide against the shadow of the wooden beam at your back, ringing his bell in the middle of the night like the Devil’s on your heels. Brow pulled low, he steps out onto the porch, into the shadows with you, his gaze flashing back and forth between your eyes. He says your name, and you hate it. “Did somethin’ happen? Are you alright?” And you want to say no, that nothing is alright. That you know you shouldn’t be here, but you’re here anyways now, and so he needs to tell you what’s going to happen next because this is as far as you’d planned. The sound of his voice, the sight of him, that’s as far as you’d planned. The rest is up to him now, even if he doesn’t know it. Your eyes fall down the long, broad length of him. Rumpled jeans, hastily pulled on, and his bare feet, oddly erotic. They’re paler than the rest of him, sun deprived, and briefly, ridiculously, you wonder if he has that funny sock tan men get around their ankles. The skin stretched over strong tendon and bone, beautifully arched. You give a tiny shake of your head, something like a whimper slipping up your throat. And you think he must realize or understand because he sighs, long and drawn out, dragging his palm over his mouth as he watches you struggle. You think that’s his tell, that dragging hand; he does it when he’s thinking, confused, worried, upset which leads you to worry that maybe he’s upset you’re here now, but it’s done, you’ve come. There’s nothing either of you can do to undo it now. Your eyes move back up to his face, and he’s taking stock of you now also. The soft, loose jersey shorts, too big pullover almost covering them entirely, the sleeves twisted around your clenched fingers. “You gotta tell me what you’re doin’ here, sweetheart. You gotta say it out loud.” You let out a rough, frustrated sound through your clenched teeth, looking away from him for a second. 

“We never talked about it,” you say instead because you want to hear him acknowledge it, you want that to be said out loud. 

He understands immediately, “You never gave me a chance to.”

You look back at him, he’s taken a step closer, and you wrap your arms back behind the beam, trying to meld yourself to the wood, keep yourself away from him.

“What else was I supposed to do? If we talked about it, it would’ve happened again.”

“Well, then that’s why – that’s why we never talked about it.”

“But did you want to?” And your voice breaks a little at the end, “Did you want to talk about it?”

He sighs again, a muttered curse under his breath. He isn’t going to give you the easy way out. “Tell me why he left you,” and you flinch. He, his son. It’s the truth, no reason to cower. You were left. You have to look away again, unable to confess this when looking into the kinder version of eyes that never loved you. 

“I think you know. I think you could tell from the very first moment you saw us together.” He hums his agreement, and the sound fucking hurts. “He never loved me. He never even really liked me, I don’t think. But that became okay after a while.” A tear falls, and you listen to the sound of him suck in a sharp breath; it makes you smile just a little, that small sound. You look back at his face, “I don’t want you to think I’m not okay with that now because I really am. It made me realize that he’d never been what I wanted or needed either. That he couldn’t ever give me what I wanted either.”

“And what’s that?” His voice sounds gentle, but you know that it’s put on. You know there isn’t going to be anything gentle about this. 

You choose to ignore that, “You know he said once, that I’d lied to him about who I was. But I didn’t– I really didn’t, Joel,” and you say it with such panic, or fervor, or something that’s desperate to ensure that he doesn’t think the same of you. That he doesn’t take you for a liar also. “He just couldn’t understand that this is the only way I know how to be. Being scared all the time makes you a liar. It makes you what the moment needs you to be no matter what that is. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “I know what you mean,” but he looks nervous, the truth of him too close to the surface, and it soothes you. The two of you are the same, you knew it. 

You peek down at your twisted fingers, nails gnawed raw and bloody and disgusting. “I don’t think he ever loved me and that made me sad. But now, I don't think I ever loved him either, and that makes me sadder. It was all for nothing, I let him turn me into that thing for nothing, and I was always waiting for him to treat me better, different. But a person who can treat you badly once usually finds it quite easy to do it again.” You look back up at him, shocked for a moment at your sharp honesty. “I’m sorry. He’s your son. I shouldn’t say these things to you,” even thought it sounds like hypocrisy, for look at where you’re standing in the middle of the night.

“And you’re you.”

And the sober way he says it sobers you, recenters you. “Yes. I’ve always been only myself.” And it’s the truth, the most difficult one. That despite Sam’s claims that you’d made him believe you to be someone you weren’t, despite the sick desire for complacency, to please all those around you, you have always been only you. Even when they’d tried to force you to be something you weren’t, you were still always only yourself. You say it again, just to hear the sound of the words. 

“You gotta tell me what you’re doing here then. You want to talk about that? About what happened that night? Is that it?”

“Yes.”

He sighs, that telling gesture over his stern mouth again. “If we do this, there’s no goin’ back, and I–”

“There already is no going back for me. I can’t forget. I can’t stop remembering.”

“It would be different– if we– if I take you, it’ll be different. You get me? I won’t be able to stop. I know myself well enough to know that. I won’t be able to stay away from you after.”

“I don’t care.”

“So that’s what you want?” But you can’t say the words out loud, you can’t, you can’t. You’re ashamed, embarrassed, humiliated by your own desire, small and slanted. Despite all your progress, and as much as you want it, you still know you shouldn’t. “I gotta fuckin’ hear it, sweetheart. Is that what you want?” You shake your head a little, another tear, wrapping your arms around yourself. You can see the fight in his eyes, trying to hold you off from the inside out. I don’t know, another tear. He makes a frustrated noise, turning to pace to the opposite end of the porch, hand fisted in his hair. When he turns back he seems to deflate, eyes going cool and steady and then, suddenly, like a ricochet, bright and light, a flash fire. Once more: “What do you want?” To be wanted. To be good. “You want me to kiss you? You want me to fuck you?”

And your eyes flutter closed in relief, there it is, finally, the hard part’s over. It’s been said out loud. “Yes, that’s what I want.” He’s on you in three ground eating strides, big hand wrapping around the contours of your jaw, the other fisting in the hair at the back of your head, pulling you up so that you’re balanced on the tips of your toes. Your eyes fall shut, mouth parting embarrassingly ready for him to kiss you, but he gives your head a little shake between his palms. “You’re supposed to belong to my son, goddamnit. I’m not supposed to want you like this. This is wrong.”

“I never belonged to him,” and then bitter truth, honesty laminated in humiliation, “And I don’t care if it’s wrong.” Followed by a thought, a wash of shyness, held in his hands as you are, large strong hands: there is a part of me that feels very innocent still, naive, experienced hands that will finally teach you how to be good. You watch the bob of his Adam's apple beneath the sun roughened skin of his throat, and when you look back up at his eyes, there is nothing like innocence, nothing like naivety in them, only the reflection of something complex, something more. He goes very still, almost vibrational with restraint, his fingers clench around you once, and then, with unbearable control, his hands flex open, releasing you. 

“Get in the house,” he says very, very quietly. You cup your own palm around the space of your chin where he’d gripped you and turn on your toes, scampering inside, into the home of the man who would have remained your father-in-law for the rest of your life had his son ever decided to love you. The door slams shut behind him. 

-

He steps into the dark restroom with a staying hand out and ready, as if approaching a wounded, rabid animal. 

His son, his son is a cruel and small man. Joel is coming to realize this with something like horror running in currents beneath his skin. Quick to anger, quick to aggression. And you, his daughter-in-law, no one knows this better than you do. He’d naively thought, when his fully grown son had appeared at his door steps all those months ago, that the question Joel had carried on the tip of his tongue for half of his adult life had finally been answered. Alone but never necessarily lonely, something like a film of boredom and monotony over his life. He was content with the place he’d made for himself; he had his business and his brother and friends, and Joel was fine. But a child of his own, he’d never expected it, never even considered it a possibility. And what he’d come to discover: his son, who shouldn’t still be a child, but in many ways, was. 

He licks at the groove of his molar as he watches the tremble of your back, trying to hide your weeping face in the shadows of the bathroom wall. A small, anxious thing that had been, out of everything, perhaps the biggest shock of all. To learn that he had a son, an entire life lost to time, and that there was someone in the world that his son should have loved enough to tie himself to – it was shocking. To discover that his son was married when Joel was not, disorienting. 

He says your name softly and watches the jerk of your frame, that vein of anxiety he’d sensed in you from the get go that he was fairly certain Sam had a large part in sowing. You’d shown up with your hair picked up today, only the second time you’ve ever worn it so. Piled messy at the top of your head, a few strands laying against the nape of your neck, the vulnerable slope of your shoulder. He feels strangely afraid of you, afraid for you. Unsure of what to say, heart beating out of his chest, rebounding against his ribcage so hard he’s sure you can hear it. “I’m sorry. He didn’t mean it. He–”

“Please, don’t apologize for him.” A tiny sniffle. “Don’t apologize for him,” you say again, and there’s a hum of exhaustion in your voice, brokenness, it makes Joel go from afraid to entirely terrified, but then angry too… angry too. He takes a step forward, another, he’s an arms length away from you now. He could touch you if he was brave enough. If the intent behind it wasn’t as wrong as it is. Angry because he’s looking at that vulnerable nape, imagining the fit of his palm molded over the delicate column, and you’re something to be taken care of. Something like a gift. Even though he doesn’t know you well enough to say such a thing yet, even though he shouldn’t be thinking such a thing about his daughter-in-law. Even though you hold yourself with a hard rigidness most of the time, quiet dignity and cold vulnerability that seem almost impossible to get through. And yet he suspects that with enough care and patience you could become immediately soft, easily penetrated. He should see his son as a gift, and he does, he does, he does, he swears he does. If Joel repeats it enough times in his mind surely he’ll come to believe it with his whole heart, but what he sees more than the gift of a child that was kept from him, is nothing but a boy beating down a creature that was not taught to defend itself. And that makes him angry beyond belief. 

Joel can be a hard man. He is a hard man. Perhaps, a large part of the reason why he’s still alone, why nothing more than a quick fuck ever seems to work out for him. Women like him, they enjoy his company, they come to bed with him easily. But Joel is hard and cold, and he’s never much minded his aloneness, a difficult thing to sell to a woman, the reality that he doesn’t really care to need anyone else. And so perhaps, this is his son’s inherited vice, that coldness, but despite Joel’s preference for solitude, for the fact that he doesn’t care about making a person stick around, he tries to never be cruel, and he is sure to never hurt those that are more easily hurt than himself. He doesn’t think there’s any worse sort of sin, and so he knows that this cruelty he’s witnessing didn’t come from him. But then he thinks that if it didn’t come from him, then it surely came as a consequence of him, of his absence, and so he is just as responsible for it. So he can’t help himself when, instead of more platitudes in favor of his gift of a son, he says: “You should leave him.” You let out a bitter sound of a laugh, something that pokes at that wound of fear of his. 

“Should I? I don’t think that’s what you’re supposed to say.”

“Isn’t it? It’s the truth. It’s what you need to hear right now,” The sweetheart he adds at the end has a tiny shiver moving down the length of your spine that his own vertebrae can’t help but imitate. You hang your head, bearing more of that lovely nape, head seemingly bowed in supplication for something gentler than what his son can offer you, and he can’t help himself again. He wants to sink his teeth into that soft expanse of skin. You’re too pretty, pretty in all the ways a perfect thing can be, and Joel is a hard man, not a weak one, but he feels weak now. He feels brought to his knees, heavy stone of guilt weighing in his gut as he lays his palm on the back of your bared neck. Don’t touch, don’t touch, don’t touch, this doesn’t belong to you. He tightens his hand, grips the column, presses the calluses of his palm to the soft skin. “Look at me–” he gruffs, turns you by the pressure of his hand, a kitten gripped by the scruff and made to listen. “You deserve more than that shit.” That shit being his son, his blood. Joel is two feet tall and so ashamed he’s nauseous. But your eyes, they look up at him, tear filled and so lost, and he wants to show you how it should be. “You deserve more,” he says again. Later, he’ll tell himself he surely must have said the words out loud, asked for it with teeth and tongue. The blame can only be his, he provoked it, he soothed the wound, incited it, because you’re surging up and against him, fingers clawing at his shoulders and throat and pressing your mouth to his, clumsy and tear stained and open so that the first thing he tastes is your breath on his tongue, then your tongue on his tongue, and then absolution tinged with shame, gross desire like desperation. He groans like a dying man, clutching at you immediately, unthinking, pulling you into himself, soft, full tits against hard chest so that he feels like he’s burning and dying and coming back to life all with the taste of your spit and tears in his mouth. He holds you steady, hand still clamped to the back of your neck and thinks that if he’s going to commit a sin he might as well take his fill. He eats at you. Head held in place, knees bent and arm banded around your waist to bring you level with each other, he pulls your head back, mouth open and tries to swallow you whole. And Joel doesn’t think of his son, not for a single second, while he kisses his daughter-in-law.

His lips slide to your throat, hunting for your pulse, tasting the tiny flutter, going weak at the knees at the whimpered sound you make, cock harder than it’s been in years, a noise like begging, like more. He sucks hard at that thrum, but your noises shift to frightened, protesting, fingers digging into his shoulders to warn him. He can’t leave marks, he can’t leave marks on something that belongs to another. His erection is an iron band down the leg of his jeans, and he has to force himself not to thrust the aching cock into the soft apex of your thighs, feel your warmth there. He has to stop, he has to– to what? To let you go back to a boy that mistreats you? Even if that boy is his son, it’s wrong, it goes against everything Joel is as a man. He presses his face into the blistering heat of your throat, a muttered fuck under the ledge of your little chin. A rattling shiver has started up in you, teeth chattering with the force of it, and he bands his arms around you tightly, pressing the air out of your lungs, hand smoothing up to twist in the back of your hair and force you entirely still. “Don’t,” his voice is so deep he almost doesn’t recognize it coming out of his own mouth, “Don’t be afraid.” The sound of his popping knees as he unbends to his full height, your weight still in his arms. He lets you go in increments, slowly so as not to jar you further, hands holding tight until the last moment when he forces them to unclench, let you go. “Don’t be afraid,” he says again. “You did nothing wrong. This was all me.” Your eyes are huge, but you’re not crying anymore, and that feels like victory to Joel, despite the rest, the only thing that matters.

You run from him after that, because of course you do. What’s the other option? That he’d keep you there in that dark restroom, from his son and your marriage and the world, forever? He clutches at his chest and is swallowed whole by his shame and his guilt, the terrible fear that he isn’t the sort of parent that can blindly see past their child’s faults, love them despite everything else, not the type of man who can keep himself from wanting something he shouldn’t, he hadn’t felt so when he’d kissed you with that sick desperation on his tongue. And once he hears the sound of a slamming car door, and Sam’s truck peeling out of the drive and speeding away, he takes out his hard cock and fucks his fist until the heat of his semen is sliding over his skin, a handful of pathetic strokes and the sound of your name almost like a sob in the dark.

-

You listen to the sound of his bare feet padding across the wooden floor, and your head feels like it’s breaking water, seeing clearly for the first time in years. It’s a rich parquet, gleaming in the dim light of the street lamp glow. You wonder if he installed it himself, like the wallpaper, proof of the care and attention to detail in his home. You think you would like to be cared for as such also. There’s a soft green throw draped over the back of the chocolate leather couch, and you dig your fingers into it, twisting amidst the knitted weave as you turn to face him, and he has that look in his eyes again, the one from before. The one like too much, too much, the one like fear and want. Stopping just in front of you, the tips of his bare toes meet the front of your shoes, and he reaches to drag the pad of his thumb over the high slope of your cheekbone, the fine skin catching beneath his calluses. “You’re too beautiful,” he says, and you wish it sounded like an accusation, but it doesn't, and you want to tell him you don’t believe him, just to be difficult, just to be contrary, but you know he’s not the sort of man that lies. It only sounds like praise. His eyes are so dark in the shadow of the house, the green and brown and caramel striations gone away in the night, and he’s shifting his jaw, chewing on a thought before he spits it out. His other hand comes up to gently, so gently cup the other side of your face, and he holds you there, just so, angling you this way and that, appraising you, chewing, chewing slowly. “Too beautiful – I never even stood a chance,” he says more to himself than to you. This is a man that does things with intention. This is a man that sees you as a complexity, as something more. This is a man. “He told me something – last time we saw each other.” Your heart beats painfully in your chest, you can feel it in your eyes and ears and the backs of your knees.

“What’s that?”

“That the two of you were havin’ problems. In– in the bedroom. That–”

You try and jerk away, but he holds you trapped. “Stop. Please. Don’t–”

“Is that all this is? Older man – want me to teach you somethin’?”

Cradled as you are, you close your eyes, brow folding in a frown, unable to refute him with a shake for the way he’s captured you. You bring your own hand up to circle his thick wrist, fingers not meeting around it. He has hair here, your palm slides further down, hair here too. All man, man, man. No longer in the hands of a boy, and you’re touching him. Now you’re touching him too. “That very first time I met you– I wondered what you’d taste like. How heavy you’d be inside of me. If you’d be rough, leave marks, or gentle. You know I– I wanted– If he hadn’t been there, if–” Now he’s the one that begs you to stop. 

His hands on you are tighter now, almost strangling, squeezing a moan out of you. “Are you going to tell him?” His grip goes loose again, caressing. “ If we do this– are you going to use this against him? It’s yours to do with as you will, I just want to know beforehand. It won't change the way I have you tonight.”

“Only tonight?” Your voice sounding strange, hungry. 

His eyes move entirely around your face, taking you in, held as you are. His gaze is manic, fevered, but his words are slow, stacked one on top of the other for you. “No. No, I don’t think it’ll only be tonight.”

“I’m not going to use this against him.” For the first time in two years, what you’re doing, the decisions you’re making, have nothing to do with your ex-husband. This is only for you. Joel is only for you. 

“Tell me what you want,” he asks for the last time. 

“To be good,” you finally say, and the rough sound he makes, the flush you can faintly see crawling up the column of his throat, it has a painful knot of want tightening your cunt, the wet drip of slick pooling in your panties, all hot and bruised feeling on the inside. 

He lets his hands slide slowly from your face to hang loosely by his sides, and you take it as your invitation to touch him as you like now. He’s so much taller than you, your neck craning back to look up at his face. You start there, the crest of his cheek, the strong, curved nose, plush mouth that looks specifically made for kissing a cunt until it cries. He makes your thoughts feel savage, he makes you feel like something you’ve never been before. “You’re just a little girl, aren’t you?” He says softly. Your hands move down to his thick neck, and you try and cage him there, hands too small to circle him entirely, the insinuation of a strangling. Too small, too small, too small. You shake your head, mesmerized by the contradiction of your small fragility trying to capture all that strength held inside of him. You look up at his eyes, holding him around the throat as you are, and shake your head. You’re not. “Then what are you?”

“I don’t know. I want you to show me.” And that does something to him. You see the change come over him in that very moment, something chimeral in the change your words provoke. He’s made of nothing but vibrational restraint, giving you your moment of peace to explore him as you need to before he takes you for himself. You’re almost certain you can hear the sound of him grinding his molars to dust inside his mouth. And you want him to show you, it’s the truth. As wrong or whatever it is that it may be, it’s your truth. You’d always felt like you’d done being a woman the wrong way, a grating way, an unappealing way, but you didn’t want to be unappealing or wrong. You only wanted to be yourself. And worst of all, you’d been made to feel like that, over and over again, by the man who should have done nothing but the opposite. And you know it might be bad now, to want to be shown or that there was no right way, but still, but still, you want it. You would still like for someone, for Joel, to teach you how to be better, how to be good. Was that really so bad?

Your hands slide down to the thick muscles of his chest, thumbs dipping into the dents of his collarbones, lower to the soft of his belly, the edge of his jeans. The both of you are trembling now, you in lust, desperation, him in restraint maybe. There are beads of sweat dampening the curls at his temples. “We shouldn’t do this.”

“Do you think so?”

He nods, but he’s cupping your elbows in his big hands anyway, pulling you towards him so that your breasts graze the top of his belly. “But we’re doin’ it anyway.” You go up on your tiptoes, hand cupping the sharp edge of his jaw to pull him down towards you, and he’s like a leashed wolf; heavy, hot breaths fanning across your face, and he slowly does as you bid, mint, mixed with something sharp like whiskey. He’s watching you so intently, watching to see what you’ll do with him, but your eyes are only on that soft wet mouth. You want his tongue inside of you, and that first press is so, so soft, barely there. A sound like dying, you can’t tell who it comes from, another soft brush, and you’re taking his top lip between both of yours, sucking on it lightly, hands snaking over his thick shoulders to bring yourself up closer so that he’s finally wrapping his arms around you, pressing you tightly to himself, belly to belly. He still hasn’t closed his eyes, he’s still watching you, and your heart is beating so fast and so hard and you want this so much that you’re sure he can feel it reverberating into his own chest cavity, spurring his own beating muscle on. You press another tiny kiss to his full, open mouth. “I’m scared,” you whisper onto his tongue, and he smoothes a staying hand down your spine, settling over the curve of your ass and squeezing there, holding you in his snare. He’s barely even touched you, and yet, you already know that no one else has ever been like this. 

“That’s alright. Got nothin’ to be scared of – I’m gonna be so gentle with you, baby.”

“I’m not your baby,” hint of an obstinate, provoking whine in your voice.

“But that’s what you are.” He changes the angle of his descent, and now he’s the one moving in for another tiny kiss. “Just a little baby.”

“And I don’t want it gentle.”

“You’ll take it how I say. How ‘bout that?” Another kiss, and now the taste of his tongue. You’d never forgotten it, the slick, hot slide of it, from that other time. He licks into you, takes away your ability to talk. In a single blink of an eye, less than a second’s thought, he’s taken all control from you, made the game his own, and now you’ve finally gotten what you’d come here for. Now you can finally say it out loud. He wraps a massive fist around the length of your hair and eats at your mouth, makes it his more than it’s ever been yours. All tongue and teeth and wet spit, the sound of his pleasure for you vibrating in your ears, and there is it, the pressure of his hard cock as he slides his hand lower, between your legs to feel the heat and damp of the pussy that’s wet only for him, pulls you further into himself. The heft of the bulge has you whining and squirming in his hold, clawing at his shoulders and the skin of his neck to climb up the length of him, get closer, get more. You want that cock, you want it inside of you, filling you with its weight and its come. You’ve wanted it from the first time you’d met him as his daughter-in-law, standing beside his son in the place of his wife. You’d wanted his cock more than you’d ever wanted his sons, and you’re only ashamed that you’re not ashamed at all. And he tastes that desperation on you, nips at your lip with a gruff settle, a little yank of your hair to tug your head back and unlatch his mouth from yours, sliding in a wet trail to your neck, settle, settle. He bites at the line of your throat, hard. Sucks even harder, leaves a mark, leaves a claim he wasn’t able to last time. The deeply rumbled sound that comes from him attests to his intention and your answering, whimpered mewl is nothing but a cry for more; I know, baby, I know, he whispers into your ear. His mouth moves down your chest, pulling the already stretched neck of your pullover wider to nuzzle at the deep groove of your cleavage. You want to ask him if he’s worried, guilty, if he’s wanted you for as long as you wanted him, if he was hard when you kissed him that night in his little wallpapered restroom, but then the heat of his mouth is clamping around your nipple and sucking, wetting the fabric of your top with his tongue, biting down at your breast, the sharp of his teeth clamping down around your sensitive flesh, nothing but your soft sleep bra beneath to protect you. You yank hard at his messy curls, trying to pull his punishing teeth away and pull yourself closer, all at the same time. His eyes flash up to yours, mouth latched at your breast, cheeks hollowing as he takes a hard, wet pull and there’s laughter in his gaze, hot and bright and infectious. “I’ll be gentle, but I’m not gonna be nice, baby.” He nuzzles into the wet spot left behind, presses another kiss, soft and conciliatory now over your throbbing nipple. “You want me to be nice? Want me to be nice to this little pussy?” He rubs the flat of his fingers over that desperate place between your legs as he turns to walk the two of you back towards the front of the sofa. There’s no response to be given, mouth hanging open, eyes wide. He turns to sit, pulling you to remain standing between his spread thighs, hands wrapped around your hips. “Gotta use your words, pretty baby. I wanna hear what you want.”

“I want whatever you want. I want it however you want it,” you say through your flush and your shyness. You want to be honest, not a liar here in this moment with him. 

He lets his head fall forward to rest against your lower belly, nuzzles there, and you hear his whispered, Jesus, fuck, before he pulls back to look up at you, drags his palms down the back of your legs all the way to your ankles, nudging your shoes and socks off, and then sliding all the way back up, scratchy calluses making you shiver until he reaches the edge of your shorts and tucks the tips of his fingers there. “Take your shirt off,” he says gently, and you only pause for a second of timidity before you’re pulling it over your head, left only in your soft pink sleep bra not intended for the eyes of ex-father-in-law’s you’ve come to seduce. Your shyness flushes higher, burning your face, sprouting beads of embarrassed sweat at the nape of your neck. He untucks his fingers from the waistband of your shorts, smoothing his palms up the slopes of your curves, thumbs dragging up the plane of your belly, dipping into the dent of your navel to reach up and squeeze your breasts tight in his big hands, then pulls the straps down over your shoulders, the bra down over the curves of your breasts to leave them bare and heavy. And his eyes never leave yours as he gets you naked for himself, fingers sliding down your sides now to pull your shorts and panties and the scrunched bra down, the flush in his face deepening, heightening even though he’s yet to look at you. Don’t be scared, he whispers again, shaking his head a little when you wrap your arms around your breasts, trying to hide yourself away from him. When he’s taken your shorts from you, gripping each ankle to help you step out of their circle, he finally looks at you, takes in the entire bare expanse of your naked body, gently prying your arms from your breasts. “Lemme see, lemme see, you’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby.” He runs his hands all over you, the slope of your belly, lifts the weights of your tits in his palms to let them fall and sway heavily, down the outsides of your thighs and back up and around to squeeze the lush of your ass. He pulls you further towards him with that clutch on you and presses his nose into the apex of your thighs, nuzzles at the soft thatch of curls there, brings his thumb up to pet at it and breathes deep. “I like this – so pretty,” he tells you again. If it was possible for a person to die of shyness you surely would in this moment, but this was what you’d come here for, this was what you hadn’t been able to say out loud. He presses his nose there again, takes another deep breath, and then starts to mouth wetly, pressing soft kisses and then the wet of his tongue, licking and parting at your slick seam. He groans so deep it sends you to shivering, hands coming up to cover your face, to hide away from that sound of lust, the feral look in his eyes when he looks up at you with the taste of your cunt in his mouth. He starts to lap at you in earnest, closing his eyes in sheer enjoyment as he pets at your clit with his tongue, shifting his angle this way and that to get at you more deeply. He pulls one of your feet up onto the edge of the sofa to open you, and you’re jostled forward, catching yourself on his broad shoulder as he spreads and eats you. His hand on your ass shifts lower, searching for your opening from behind and starts to pet at you there too so that he’s coming at you from the front and the back, and it’s too much, his sucking mouth and probing fingers. Your standing leg buckles, and he’s forced to pull his mouth from you, steady you. You let your knees give out slowly, coming to a folded kneel between his legs. He leans forward, mouth glossy with your slick and pulls your face to his, chin pinched between his fingers to kiss you, and the taste of you on his tongue sets something off within you.

Suddenly, your shy insecurity doesn't really matter as much with the flavor of your pussy on his tongue. You surge up on your knees, pressing closer to him, pulling him to you with your arms twisted around his neck, moaning into his mouth as you taste the sweet muskiness on his tongue. Like kindling catching fire in your veins you start to claw at him, pulling at his clothes, his hair, scratching at his skin. He half pulls you up and on top of him, your steaming hot form, entirely bare and naked on top of his clothed one. You can feel the heft of his cock against your belly, grinding there, trying to find whatever friction possible, and he makes a frustrated noise at the back of his throat, pushing you back down onto the floor and pulling back to open his jeans. He’s panting and sweating, chest heaving and cheeks flushed a bright red. He wants you just as much as you want him. And it’s bad, it’s bad and wrong to compare, God knows, but when he finally pulls his cock out, he’s not wearing anything beneath his jeans, you know that this is a man unlike your husband ever was; long and thick, fucking big, swollen, flushed tip peaking out from soft surrounding skin, leaking a clear slick of drool. He takes it out and sits back, pushing his hips forward to settle into his seat and stretches his long legs on either side of you. You listen to the sound of the scooting coffee table as he shoves it back with his foot. His cock arches obscenely from his open jeans, and you reach up slowly, a little intimidated, to circle it with your fingers delicately. “You’re so hard,” you whisper. 

He drags a gentle hand over the crown of your head, pulling the hair tie from your ponytail as he goes. “This is how much I want you. This is all you.” He circles his big hand around your much smaller one, squeezes his big cock tighter with both of your hands, and you flush with a pleasure so intense it’s almost painful. You can make a man hard, the proof is right here in front of you. 

He’s uncut, and that’s doubly intimidating. “I’ve never seen one like that,” he pulls your hand up slowly with his, squeezes and twists hard at the sticky wet tip. 

“It’s okay, baby,” he croons, looking down at you with a maniacal sort of glint in his eyes. “Just open your mouth,” he wraps his other hand around your jaw, “You don’t need to see it if it’s inside you,” wedges his fingers between your molars over the skin of your cheeks, prying your mouth open. You bend your head forward, tongue hanging out, and he taps the heavy weight of his cock there, jostles the wet tip slightly from side to side, the wet sticky sound of it has your pussy clenching around terrible emptiness. He slides his hand up your cheek, twists his fingers through your hair and directs you how he wants you, slides his cock further back on your tongue, and you wrap your lips around him, give him your first real suck, tongue swirling gently around the fat head. Pulling back with a sharp hollowing of your cheeks, he squeezes his fist around yours almost painfully, and you press an open mouthed kiss at the spongey tip, gently tonguing the slit, lapping at it with the flat of your tongue like a little kitten. The sight of you licking his dick has him groaning, bearing the white line of his teeth at you. 

“You taste so good,” you say up at him with big wet eyes, “Like I always imagined you would.”

“Fuck–” he snarls, “Killin’ me,” and he’s jerking you up off the floor roughly, pulling your knees apart to settle you in a straddle on his lap, pressing you close with a hand on your ass so that the wet heat of your cunt is meeting the heat of his cock. The both of you groan like it hurts, like you’ve been waiting for this for longer than is right, and he pulls your mouth back to his, wet and messy, sucking on your tongue, gripping your hair so tightly, your eyes smart and water. You claw at his shirt, pulling it up, trying to get at his skin, and he pulls back suddenly, frustratedly ripping it over his head, and then coming back to your mouth, single minded in his dedication to having the taste of you on his tongue. You try and grind down on him, but he hitches you up higher so your breasts are level with his face. “This’ll be over ‘fore it’s even begun if we’re not careful,” he laughs as he settles you, cunt leaking against his stomach and turning the hair there sticky sweet with your slick, and slots his hand between your thighs, gives you something to rub yourself against while he kisses you. “Oh, baby, you’ve got the wettest little cunt,” he says between kisses, lips sliding down to suck at your neck, lifting your breast to his mouth to lick and bite at your swollen nipple. 

And past sense, past restraint, you beg: “I want your cock, please, I want it so badly.” 

“Nuh uh,” he grunts, “Not yet. You’re not ready.”

You whine and beg that you are, you promise you are, but he only sucks at your tits harder, presses his hand harder between your thighs, and you can literally hear the wet squelch of your pussy as you ride his palm, your clit grinding against his belly on the forward slide as you work yourself up into a frenzy, wet whimpers and a pathetic little tear or two slipping out in your frustration to come. Need you nice and soft to take me, sweetheart, he murmurs into the tender skin beneath your chin, but he decides to be kind, crooking his finger just so that it brushes up against your clit, setting off a shivery little orgasm fluttering through your belly. He laughs softly, humoring the silly little thing wiggling around in his lap that’s so desperate to come, decides to be kinder halfway through your orgasm and starts to slowly press a single thick finger into your hungry, clenching hole. Shit, you hear his curse, while you moan and cry into his shoulder, mouthing and biting at the sun freckled golden skin there, gnawing on him like some rabid thing. And then he says, a little teasing: “Just from this, huh? Just from a little wiggling around on daddy’s lap?” sending a wash of agonized relief through you as he wedges a second one of those thick, thick fingers inside to stretch you further. It’s what you’d wanted to call him from the first moment. Just one more thing said out loud. You nod your head against his shoulder, a whine and a breath and daddy, daddy, daddy, as he stretches you; make that sound again, he begs and pets and coos at you, yes, yes, I could come from that sound alone, gives you all the patience you’d always needed. “Look at all this slick you’ve made to take my big cock in your little cunt, baby. What a good girl you are.” He twists his wrist, fucks space into you with his fingers, “You’re so fuckin’ tiny – how’re you gonna take me in this little thing, huh?” He bites down on your soft breast, encourages the sway of your hips with his fingers hooked inside of you. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it fit,” presses a kiss to your forehead, scratchy beard against the sensitive skin there, gently stroking you into another orgasm around his fingers, petting at something raw and bruised feeling inside of you, sending you to tears. 

He pulls his fingers from you slowly once you’re done, leaving your body to tighten and gape around terrible emptiness, and you feel the wet smear of your come on your asscheek where he grips you, searches and pets your asshole to slick it with your wet. “You want daddy to fix you?” He says then, “Want me to make you all better? S’what you want, right?”

You nod slowly, sniffle, “Make me good,” you mumble into his neck. 

“But you’re already good,” and he takes away all your choices, the ability to argue or refute, “You’re already so good. A perfect, gorgeous girl.” Kindling in your veins, madness, something more desperate than anything else you’ve ever felt in your entire life, true hunger. Worse than your desire for your father to understand you, to love you, to not be angry, your fight to keep a husband that would have never stayed. You reach for his cock, trying to impale yourself on it blindly, shifting to press the hot, blunt head at your wet opening. He moans like a dying man, “Wait– wait, lemme get a condom.” He sounds like he’s begging. 

“No, please, now.”

“Fuck– fuck, you’re so eager to jump on my bare cock without a rubber or anything.” But it’s only because no one has ever touched you like this, and when he grips the thick root of his cock and notches it as your cunt, pushes inside slowly, you realize he’s doing it in a way that makes you understand the difference between the man and the boy. 

“I need to feel your skin,” you sound like you’re begging now too. Sighing in relief when he starts to stretch you, when it starts to hurt. It’s slow going, fitting the largeness of his body into your much smaller one. But his hands are steady and soothing as he works you down another inch, another, let’s you fuck yourself on his cock. Murmured praises and all of his desire for you and yeah, just like that, take daddy’s cock, until he’s fully seated inside of you, holds you down, presses and grinds there, thick tip made fatter by his foreskin kissing your cervix. Finally, he pulls you back by the hair, and your father-in-law’s cock is inside of you. “Want you to look at me while I teach you how to fuck– how to take a cock,” because he knows, because he’s always known, had the gross ability to read you exactly as you are. He shifts his hips back, presses up, up, up, inside of you, and his eyes are so beautiful, and he teaches you how to take a cock, not a little girl now, only a woman. You wrap your arms around his neck, kiss his face, lick his tongue, nibble on his ears, feel him all over, he’s all over and everywhere, and it should maybe be humiliating, riding the cock that made the man that was your husband, it should feel wrong or something like a sin, but it only feels, instead, like it was made for you. Like this is where you should have been all along. Once you’ve adjusted, he grips your hips tight and harsh, makes your skin smart enough you know you’ll have bruises in the shapes of his fingers and pounds up into you, the slick slide of your cunt sucking him deeper, taking him as hard as he wants to give it to you, swollen and sensitive, squeezes your ass and grunts and moans and says, yeah, baby, bounce on this fat cock, like it’s the only thing you’d ever have to do for the rest of your life. You wish it was. And the sounds he makes, that’s what really makes you come again, what sets off your orgasm while you’re riding him – the desperate, rough sounds of a man fucking up into a tight, hot cunt that’s wet only for him. It coils in you so tight it hurts, it hurts, and then goes loose and fluttery, pussy flooding around his thrusting length. You can’t even moan, mouth hanging open, proably drooling a little, probably crying a little, nothing but hot air and wet and not a little girl anymore, only a woman, and he doesn’t gentle, fucks you harder, rougher, squeezes your ass and chases his own orgasm. His thrusts going sloppy and uneven, his moans turning to cracked whimpers. 

“I’m not on birth control… but– but my period’s soon,” you whisper into his ear, and he makes a noise not wholly human, going still for a moment, throbbing inside you, thinking, thinking of the risk, decides he doesn’t give a fuck by the murmured,  fuck it, I have to, and starts to move again, harder, hurting on every punch up against the mouth of your womb. I have to, is what he says, and that settles something inside of you. “Gonna come in this pretty, tight cunt. Gonna make it all mine.” You decide you don’t really give a fuck either. “Make daddy come. Squeeze down on daddy’s cock – yeah, just like that. You wanted to play at being the big girl? Now m’gonna treat you like one – gonna fuck you full, baby.” And you’re nothing but want and yes and please and thank you, daddy. And that first spurt, that hurts too, burns you, changes something inside of you that you know will never go back to the way it was before. You’ll want that hurt for the rest of your life, and you won’t ever be able to forget it, and it might be the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, but the heat of it spurs on another small orgasm of your own, jars you with the swell and throb of his cock, fills you till the come from your cunt is leaking down onto his slick balls and the leather beneath. And he holds you through the whole thing, stroking and squeezing and tasting, taking sips of your mouth, pressing his breath back into you, breathing life into you. No longer a ghoul in the night either. You feel him go soft and yet still heavy inside, a muted bruise against your womb, sighing frequently as you settle, little kittenish sounds that have his spent cock stirring lazily inside of you while you leak and leak and leak and go drowsy and then just on this side of fully asleep. 

“Are you okay?” You remember to ask in a small voice while his fingers play gently in the wet where you’re connected. 

He makes a soft sound, like he’s humoring you, like you’ve surprised him. “Course I’m okay,” presses a kiss to your forehead. 

When he shifts you off of him to stand, a protesting whine at the back of your throat, he shucks his jeans off with a soft grunt, finally as naked as you’ve been the whole time, and his cock hangs heavy between his legs, shiny with your cunt as you stare up at him while he looks down at you. Afraid for a brief uncertain second before he’s lifting you in his arms, and when he carries you to his bed after, you feel terribly like a child. Again that naivety, that hope, but it isn't a bad thing, here and now with him. Not something to be used against you, not a bruise or a wound or a lost limb, and you haven’t failed at being good because he’s already made you so. 

-

You’re pressed right up beneath his chin when he wakes up. Your soft, warm form all along his side, lush tits and the vulnerable slope of your belly against his skin, and it feels so intimate, entirely twined around him as you are. He brings his palm up to cup the small bowl of your skull, and in the hushed morning light, your mistake breathes life into the world. Joel has always been a hard man. Joel has always been a hard man, but never weak, and certainly, not good, per se, but never cruel. But there’s something like weakness, there’s something that should be like cruelty here, waking up with you bare, still leaking his spend in his bed, and Joel can’t tell if that weakness, that cruelty is his, born of him or of his own making, he only knows that it should be here, probably is here. It’s difficult to gauge the moral acumen of what he should or should not be feeling when he has you like this beside him. And most confusing of all, that it actually feels nothing like a mistake. Only like it was always meant to happen, and now it finally has. 

He’d come inside of you, worst of all, sense gone away in the night, couldn’t claim exemption from weakness now, filled you until you’d leaked down his balls, the woman who’d been the wife of his son, and he should feel guilty, he should feel disgusted with himself. A betrayer of his own child. But all he feels is that he needs it again. That he needs you again. That if he could, he’d keep you. 

Joel had never wanted children. The thought or desire had never really crossed his mind… and yet– You make a sweet little keening sound in your throat right before you open your eyes, and he feels the stretch and wiggle of your little toes against his shins, the flutter of your long lashes against the tip of his chin. “Good morning.” Soft hand coming up to cover his mouth, hold him in place while you wiggle and slither all over him. 

“How do you feel?” He’d expected you to be shy, regretful, nervous waking up, and to find you entirely not, to get to wake up to you like this, soft and warm and lovely in his bed smelling of his come and his sweat, smiling that pretty little smile; it’s the mightiest sort of victory. You drape yourself on top of him, all soft limbs and softer tits, and the heat of your cunt pressed against his belly as you nuzzle into his chest hair. You’re different now, compared to before, that exhaustion he’d sensed is closer to the surface now, more easily visible, as if your body’s been collecting it, pulling it from the depths of you, getting ready to finally expel it. But there’s a clarity about you now too, you’re tired, but you’re also more yourself. Or on your way there. So lovely it hurts, vulnerable and fragile but entirely yourself. Afraid too, he can tell, because it’s your right to be afraid, because it’s normal, because we’re all afraid sometimes. “Sore?” Another nuzzle, and then, settling on your cheek to look up at him with those gorgeous eyes that’d damned him from the very first moment. 

“Just a little.”

“You did so well last night,” he pets your hair slowly. “You took me so well. I’m so proud of you.” And oh, you like that. Blooming, the temperature in your body seeming to spike suddenly, suffusing all your limbs, radiating from your belly. Shifting and squirming on top of him. His half hard erection, trapped between the two of you, aching already, and you try and rub yourself all along its length, hitching a knee up by his hip to open yourself. He gives you a rough sound to settle, but you want something from him now, trying to rub your wet pussy all over him. If he was younger, a man of less control, he’d be fucking into you already and without thought. “It’s time for listening now, little girl.” He grips your hair tightly, tilting your face up to look at him, uncurls his fingers to cup the small bowl of your skull and hold you in place. “Sometimes people need time, sometimes they need us to be patient with them, wait for them. That’s what you needed, and there ain’t anything wrong with that. And you’re not gonna feel bad or less for getting there a little more slowly than others. Everything comes in its due time, and that’s okay.” You’re staring up at him, wide eyed, something like fear or panic, but you’re going to listen to him if it’s the last thing he does. He fists your hair again, gently forces your head into a nod. “Agree with me now. Say yes.”

“Yes, daddy,” you whisper very softly, pressing up to peck him lightly on the mouth. He catches you by the nape, a kitten picked up by the scruff, and holds you there, immediately turns the kiss wet and savage. You feel, so much, like you’re his, and this terrifies Joel. You aren’t his to keep, he knows this. He is not unaware of what’s happening here, of the consequences. He is not delusional about how this will end. But still, but still, you feel like his. 

You’re back to you’re squirming now, whines and pleading moans as you try and rub yourself against his cock, and he reaches down to cup you, gently fingering at your folds, feeling the havoc he’d wrought on your pussy last night. “You’re so swollen, baby. Can’t fuck you again so soon.”

“Please, daddy, please, please. I can take it, I promise.”

“Not gonna hurt my soft little cunt.” The start of another whine, but he cuts you off, gives you a staying look, cranes his neck to lick into your mouth. “I’m not.”

“I want you so badly. I want you to make me come.” Tiny kisses and kitten licks to his jaw and throat. There’s fire in his belly, cock throbbing something fierce. He grips beneath your knee, opens your leg and pulls back to slot his cock between your thighs, up against your slick, swollen cunt, then presses your thighs closed back together tightly. 

“Just like this – how ‘bout that?” He says as he starts to thrust up slowly against your pussy, trying to keep his movements gentle, careful not to hurt you. He runs his palms along the length of you, squeezes your tits and pinches and plucks at your swollen, sucked dark nipples. The signs of him are all over your body, and it makes him something like wild, infuses him with something like madness. Joel has never felt like this about any woman, ever. And to have it be you – to have this happen to him with you, there is something like weakness and like cruelty here. He needs to keep his head on straight. Remember what can and cannot be. He squeezes your ass tightly, digs his short-shorn fingernails into your soft cheeks, brings one hand up to get his fingertips spit slick, and then pulls your cheeks apart again to pet at your asshole. His gut goes tight and fire hot, he wants to fuck you here too. He wants all of you to be only his, his, fucking his. You hitch your hips in a desperate little arc as he presses gently on the tight ring of muscle, teasing you. “You like that?” He gruffs. “Want me to fill your little ass too, sweet girl?”

Yes, daddy, and he’s sure those must be the greatest words ever uttered to any man in all history. 

“You make the prettiest sounds,” he says while you sing and moan for him. “When I touch you like this,” he moves down to the wet mouth of your cunt, taps on it gently, “And like this,” further, a flutter at your clit while he fucks between your thighs, “And the way you cry when you come for me,” back up to press at your asshole again. “Will you do it for me again?” Christ, he’s going to end up taking you if he doesn’t stop, and he will not hurt you. With a rough sound of frustration, he flips the two of you over suddenly, laying you flat, kneeing your thighs open wide and spread for him. He shakes his head down at you, squeezes his eyes shut because the sight of your bare tits and messy hair and swollen lips, cock hungry blurry eyes, isn’t helping his restraint. “Gotta stop provokin’ me.”

“But it’s so fun, daddy,” you whine, arching to brush your breasts up against his chest. He lets his head fall, opens his mouth wide and takes the whole, heavy weight of your tit into his mouth, sucks hard, bites soft, switches to the other one, gives it the opposite. He pulls back then, going to his knees between your spread thighs and holds you open for inspection. Cunt all red and swollen and shiny with slick just for him. He’s sure if he pressed his fingers inside he’d be able to feel the slippery slide of his semen still. Another shake of his head, and he runs his palms down the soft of your thighs, cups the round of your knees in his palms. You jerk the right one back when he squeezes you there, and he fingers the sore spot, “What’s this from?” bends forward to press a soft kiss to the small hurt. 

“I was in a rush last night,” you say shyly. 

“Rush for what, silly girl? I was right here waitin’ for ya.” Your face does a little spasm at that, confused and vulnerable and then maybe even a little hurt, brow crumpling, and you squeeze your eyes shut. When they spring open again, they’re feverish, “Please, please, fuck me, Joel. Please, I don’t care if it hurts. I don’t–”

“Quit.” He pinches the inner slope of your thigh. “Not gonna convince me to hurt you.” You moan, frustrated and wanton, on the verge of tears, petulant and trying to twist away from him, but he traps you in place, stretches himself over you, propped up by one thick arm, and you drag your palms all down the length of his chest and belly. He squeezes your jaw with his other hand, pries you wide, “Open, lemme see.” He tilts your face this way and that, inspecting the wet gleam of your mouth, your little tongue and shiny, white teeth. 

“Wha’re y’lookin’ for?” You mumble with your jaw wedged open, eyes comically large. 

“Hmm, wonderin’ what it’d look like filled with my come,” he says with a laugh. He feels like a teenage boy, all the excitement of discovering sex with a woman for the first time. And it makes his stomach hurt a little bit, his heart pinch in fear. He sticks his fingers in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, widening the angle, “You think my cock’ll fit in that little throat?” And you moan, eyes fluttering shut, writhing beneath him, begging for it, a garbled groan that sounds something like please, let’s find out. “Dunno… should we?” He let’s go of your face, goes back to his kneeling position between your legs, and finally gives his aching cock the relief of his fist squeezing tightly around it. He could come just from the sight of you, he’s sure, is just there on the edge already. He squeezes hard, almost painful at the root, sliding up dry, scratchy calluses catching at the soft skin around his head to make it hurt and sting, strangling the heat he feels pooling at the base of his spine and in his balls. He smiles at the memory of your wide, comically shocked eyes when you’d realized he was uncircumcised. I’ve never seen one like that before, and all he’d stupidly wanted to say was that you’d never see any other ever again. Ridiculous. 

He drags his thumb over the head of his cock, through the sticky drool of precum there, then reaches to pet through your slick soaked folds, parting you down the middle. You watch him with wide, wet eyes, as he pops his thumb into his mouth, humming around your combined tastes. “You wanna taste how good we are?” All you’re able to manage is an open mouthed nod. He leans forward and over you again, “Open,” he orders, and spits onto your waiting tongue, hand clamped around her jaw. “Close now – swallow. How’s that taste?” He asks when you obey so nicely. Your eyes flutter shut, jaw shifting from side to side as you savor the taste of your shared want for each other. 

“S’good. Want more.” You look back up at him, mouth open, and nothing in his whole life has been scarier than this. Not even a twenty something year old son, who should have been a man, but was still nothing but a child in such desperate need of his father, showing up on his doorstep one day out of the blue. There should be guilt in that Sam-shaped spot inside his chest, he’s sure of it, and maybe there is, maybe there’s a bitter ribbon of guilt threaded all the way through him, but it’s also entirely overpowered, overshadowed by the desire he feels for the little girl splayed out beneath him. He pulls back again, tries to temper the rising heat in his core, takes hold of his cock again and starts to slowly jack himself. “Finger that little pussy, lemme see. Be gentle with her.” But he grips your hand right as your fingertips are about to make contact with your glossy folds and brings them to his mouth, spit slicking them, there you go, before giving them back. You play in your wet, watching mesmerized as he slowly jerks himself off to the sight of you, circling your swollen clit, thrumming at it gentle, gentle, be soft with her, petting at the leaking mouth, winking at him, begging to be filled. He shifts closer, squeezing and twisting at his tip, pulling the skin back to make the bulbous dark head bulge. He wants it to hurt, he deserves for it to hurt. You watch the rough handling of himself like you’ve never seen anything like it before, head tilted on your neck so your cheek is squished against your shoulder to get a clear view of what he’s doing to himself. “You want it so bad,” he teases, and you nod, looking back up at his eyes. He shifts forward a little closer so that the backs of his knuckles are brushing up against your sex now, wet and sticky, and you let your fingers trail up his wrist, his forearm, while he quickens his pace, moves against you, over himself. You spread yourself a little wider, bringing your knees up higher to your chest, opening yourself for him, and he pulls his hips back a little, you want to come, he can see it in your eyes, you’re almost there, presses the tip to your wet clit, slides down the to the hungry mouth, circles, circles there, presses just a tiny bit. You’re nodding your head up at him, goading him on, please, please, just do it, please. “Not gonna,” he gruffs. “Not gonna convince me.”

“You’re so mean,” you cry, arching your hips, writhing, trying to find firmer pressure. 

“Didn’t I tell ya last night I wasn’t gonna be nice?” But he takes pity on you, presses the fat head just a little harder, gives you just the tip, grinding breathlessly against it, popping it in and out of your hot little cunt. “Better?” His whole body feels like one boiling vat of hot blood, sweaty and desperate, grunting, more animal than a man. “Gotta come just like this.” He quickens the jerk of his fist, bumping it into your clit on the slide forward, watches the stretch of your cunt taking just the first inch of him. He feels unhinged, thinks for one second of just fucking all the way in, hearing the sound of your cry as you take the hurt. He has to be able to do this all again, entirely, have you again the whole way “God, baby,” he groans, “You’re gonna let me fuck this tiny little pussy again, right? Tell me you’re going to let me fill it with my cock again?”

Please, please, daddy. Please. “Just do it now.” Joel doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything like the sound of you begging for his cock, anything as pretty, ever. “I– I need to–”

“I know what you need, baby. Just let daddy put his come in you, and then I’ll take care of you.” He’s just there, one last harsh squeeze and twist, and there’s warmth flooding his cock and balls as he starts to come for you, covering the entirety of your sex with his white milky spend, groaning like he’s dying. He pulls his hand from his spent cock, smearing his semen into your skin, little begging whimpers of his name and daddy, please from your mouth, and he spreads your legs and lowers his mouth to your swollen sex, eats his own come out of your cunt, pressing two fingers inside, slow and gentle as he can, to give you something to bear down on. He laps softly at your clit, soothing the ache, eats you until you’re going tight as a fist, cunt sucking his fingers as deep as it can and gushing all over his face, slick pooling in his palm where he laps and slurps at it when he’s unlatched his mouth from your pulsing clit. 

“I don’t think I can stay away from you,” he tells you later, while he dresses you slowly, sits you on the bathroom counter and brushes your teeth for you with his own toothbrush and combs the knots and gnarls out of your hair. Holds your cheek cupped in the palm of his hand as he drags a warm washcloth over your sweaty face. 

“Don’t want you to stay away,” you say in a small voice as you paw at his chest, twisting his t-shirt in little grabby fingers, pulling him into the cradle of your hips with sharp heels at the small of his back; needy, needy, needy thing. And worst of all, a sick part of him, something bitter sitting heavily on his tongue, wants to be the thing you need, the thing you’re desperate for, the thing you cry those pretty tears for. He’s weak now, he is. Joel finds in himself that he does have the capacity to be a weak man when the moment demands it of him. He shucks the washcloth into the sink, cups your face in his hands like something precious. He’d said once you were a gift, he’s sure of this now more than ever. 

And he tells you, because he knows he must: “We can fuck, but we’re not allowed to fall in love,” and tells himself that he only imagines the glint of defiance in your eyes when he says it. 

- That meeting in the dark had stayed with you, the sound of his voice telling you to leave his son, that you deserved better. The sound of his kindness, you’d stretched toward it like a flower seeking the light, the singular attention of a man like that. You’d gone over the memory of it over and over again in your mind, worn the edges of it until it was faded and worn. And when Sam had served you the divorce papers, and you’d all but gotten on your knees and begged him to please, please, stay, please, don’t leave me alone, that sound of kindness had been what you’d clung to through all the rest. That terrible clamor of failure and abandonment and not good enough, his kindness had remained, and you’re sure now, that it had brought you here too, to his home, to his bed, into his arms. This was where you’d always been meant to end up, perhaps, even from that first moment you’d met Sam all those years ago on the college green, in the arms of his father. Nothing could feel wrong after kismet like that, even if you weren’t allowed to fall in love.

Part III

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog!

#pink fic #Joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #the last of us au #joel miller imagine

[mommybard]

You know how in some lewd stories they have those pills that can change or corrupt people? I need those to become real because I’m stuck with a thought that I just can’t get out of my head.

Getting just the cutest little thing as a roommate. Befriending them. Gaining their trust. Hanging out with them. And then…well, slipping some of those into their food and drink. Not enough to give them an overnight change, where’s the fun in that? No, just enough for small changes here and there that their mind will rationalize away until it's too late~

Increased libido? That’s not too hard to explain away, some people's sex drives tend to ramp up or slow down for various reasons. So it’s not too hard for them to accept when they find themselves masturbating as the first thing when they wake up and the last thing before going to bed. Granted, they’re suddenly wanting more but…well, that could just be anything. Definitely not caused by the cookies I made them~

The changes to their body? Well that's easy enough at first. Sometimes people gain a bit of weight, or clothes shrink in the wash. That has to be the reason those jeans seem to be clinging a bit more, hugging their hips, barely able to get up over their ass. And they have been going to the gym…maybe its just finally seeing the results of the work out? As for their chest…well its just more sensitive it all. Could really be anything. Probably not that fresh horchata I made them~

The changes keep coming. Any rational person would've probably scheduled a check up to find the cause. And they meant to do that, honestly! Its just…their focus has been preoccupied recently. It started off with just finding themselves occasionally day dreaming about lewd things. Being forced to their knees and made to worship a domme. What it would be like if their friends lost all respect for them as a person and started to use them like a free use toy. How good it would feel to not have to think but instead just be the bestest little pet, spending their day under the desk of someone who does the thinking and worrying for them as they fill their day with loyal service to that person. 

But its been taking up more of their brainpower. The last few times when they meant to make the call they got distracted when they opened their phone and saw the smutty story they had been touching themselves to earlier…and, well…spend the next few hours playing with themselves. Similar thing happened when they tried to do it on the computer. They meant to type in the website! But as they started it auto suggested a porn site and…gods way they would give to get fucked like that. 

Poor thing being forced to wear less and less as they run out of clothes that genuinely fit anymore. Thinking they're being subtle about how drooly they'll get mid conversation. That the walls are thick enough that I can't hear them desperately fucking their holes raw on toys they rushed to order. 

Until I give them the final pill. One that pushes them into a deep heat. Full strength, not the careful doses I used with the other drugs. Watching them drink it down without even realizing, laughing to myself when they rush to their bedroom to “study”. Letting them go for a few hours, long enough for them to realize that need deep inside them isn't getting satisfied with their fingers or toys. They need something more. Something real. 

And of course, like the good friend I am, I offer to help them out. Wouldn't want them to try to rush out in their state. There are so many evil people out there who might take advantage of them and their trust! I wouldn't want that now, would I~?

#nsft post #tw drug #drug tw #tw drugging #drugging tw

[feelbokkie]

BF!SKZ Jokes About Your Insecurity Accidentally

☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️

**Requested**

Hello! I just got idea before i forget i will send it😅

Like you are joking around and this members is kind of said things that hurts you and you kind of give them silent treatment

Like in a angst but fluff way but kind of funny feelings?😅😅

genre: fluff, slight angst

pov: 2nd person

description: Bf!skz accidentally touches on one of your insecurities without even realizing it.

pairing: bf!skz x reader

warnings: (Specific scenarios listed under each member so check those), swearing

word count: (listed below for each member) (unedited)

©feelbokkie (2023) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

방 찬 (Bang Chan) (340 words)

You're a bit weird

"You're so weird." Chan chuckles.

Your smile drops as you stare at your boyfriend. You had gone shopping earlier with one of your friends and bought one of those inflatable alien abducting a human costumes. You put it on immediate when you got home to show Chan, even pretended you were getting abducted.

You quietly leave the room and slowly start deflating the costume. Growing up, your classmates would pick on you for being “weird.” You hate anything that would make you seem weird and often held yourself back from Chan so he wouldn't regret dating you. You didn't think the costume was weird at first, you thought it was funny and that he would get a kick out of it, not call you weird.

"Hey, why are you putting it away already? Bored?" Chan followed you out of the room when he saw your face and your head drop.

You continue to take the costume off, your back turned to him so he can't see that you're on the verge of tears.

"Y/n?" He steps closer and softly places a hand on your shoulder.

"You're right, it's weird. I'm weird, I'll return it." You sniffle as you pull your leg out of the costume.

"I didn't mean it like that. I meant that you're weird in a cute way. Why are you upset? Talk to me,"

"You calling me weird just brought up some shit. But you're right." You start rolling up the costume, attempting to get all of the air out.

"Hey, if you're weird I'm a fucking alien. Have you seen the thing I do with my arms? Class A weirdo behavior right there." He turns you towards him so he can look you in the eyes. His heart sinks to the pit of his stomach when he sees you've been crying.

"But--"

"You are not weird and I don't like you any less for your quirkiness. Now put the costume back on an let's go to the dorm. The kids are going to love it."

이 민 호 (Lee Min-Ho) (617 words)

You talk a lot when you're excited

"...and so the milkman kissed Goofy, thinking that he was his wife meaning that Goofy's wife was cheating on him while he was at work and since we have no explanation as to what really happened to the wife or any other member of Goofy's family, I think he offed the wife, took Max, dyed his hair, and ran and it totally makes sense because in the Goofy movie--"

"Breathe, Y/n." Minho places a hand on your knee.

You, for some reason, found yourself going down the rabbit hole of what happened to Goofy's wife. Immersing yourself in the lore of it all, you needed to tell someone. Unfortunately for him, your boyfriend Minho was home. He sat with you while you calmly told him the background information and went on to explain all of the theories with all of the concrete evidence you found. You had been talking non-stop for at least 15 minutes before Minho said anything.

"I was rambling again, huh?" You say sheepishly, rubbing the back of your head

"You just talk a lot."

"Oh," Your heart drops down to the pit of your stomach.

You know that you have a tendency to talk a lot, so many people have let you know over the years. You know that it could be a problem for some people. But it’s never been a problem for Minho, or at least he never let on that it’s been a problem. Normally people tell you that you talk a lot to signal that you’re being annoying. He just called you annoying.

“You can continue, what happened with the Goofy movie?” He asks, rubbing his hand on your knee.

“Lost my train of thought.” You mumble, looking at your hands and fiddling your thumbs.

“Hmm. Okay, well come find me when you find it again.” You hum in response.

***

You and Minho sit at the dinner table quietly eating. By now, Minho realized something was up with you. You had spent the rest of the day not talking to him and if you did you would either give short answers or make a noise. But now you were completely silent while eating. He knows you hate eating in silence and often filled the void with small talk or some sort of animated story.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, setting down his fork and leaning in.

“Nothing,” you refused to look up. It’s killing you to eat in silence but you don’t want to annoy him further.

“Y/n, I know something is wrong. You haven't said anything since this morning." He reaches for your hand and you pull away. A hurt look flashes across his face.

"I don't want to be annoying." You mumble. Minho blinks at you in confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

You go back to solely focusing on your food, leaving the room to fall in silence. Minho stares at you, wracking his brain to figure out what's wrong with you since he's clearly done something to upset you.

"Is this because I said you were talking too much this morning?" He asks, finally figuring something out.

"You said, and I quote, 'You just talk a lot.' Meaning I talk too much and you find me annoying."

"I didn't mean it like that. Y/n, I misspoke. I love when you talk. I love listening to your theories and stories. Honest. I could never find you annoying. Sure, you get on my nerves sometimes, but never annoying." Minho gets up from his seat and crouches down next to you.

"Are you sure because--"

"I'm 1,000% sure. Now come on, let's finish eating and you can tell me all about the mystery of Goofy's wife."

서 창 빈 (Seo Chang-Bin) (817 words)

You have a chubby stomach

You were listening to music on your phone when Changbin stumbled into your bed room. It was well past 1 in the morning and you know that he had been busy promoting a new comeback. He had the day off tomorrow but you always tell him to just sleep at the dorm when He works late so he can go to bed sooner. He never listens. You watch as he drops his bag in it's designated corner and crawls in between you legs. He lays his head on your stomach and wraps his arms around your waist.

"Baby, why don't you go take a hot shower? Your muscles must be sore." You run your hand through this soft hair.

"I'm fine. Just wanna sleep right here." He mumbles into your stomach.

"At the very least change into something more comfortable to sleep in." You tug at his shirt.

"But I'm so comfortable. You're so soft and squishy. Like...like the pillsbury doughboy." Your hair freezes in his hair.

That comment should make you laugh. In fact, you're almost certain he said it to just that. Or he's so tired that he's speaking unfiltered. But the fact that he said that while he was laying on your stomach made you feel sick.

"Bin, get up," You tap his back to wake him up.

"No," He groans.

"Changbin, I need to use the bathroom." You lie, hoping to get him move off of you.

He groans again before rolling off of you and into his normal spot on the bed, fast asleep. You quietly make your way to the living room where you plan to spend the night sleeping on the couch.

***

When you wake up, a thick blanket is covering you and Changbin is fast asleep on the floor next to you. You carefully crawl over him, as to not wake him up, and head to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee. You sit in silence, replaying what Changbin said last night repeatedly in your mind.

"Why did you sleep on the couch last night?" Changbin walks into the kitchen rubbing his eyes.

He must have sensed that you weren't near him. You knew you didn't wake him up when you walked past him earlier and you weren't being loud right now either. He almost always wakes up when you're suddenly not near him anymore. It was kind of cute.

You continue to make your coffee, refusing to acknowledge him. You feel bad for blaming him. You're almost certain that he didn't mean to say what he did when he called you soft and squishy. But if he said that when his brain was too tired to filter the words, then he's been thinking it for a while.

"Hello? Y/n, are you listening to me? Am I invisible?" He asks, walking up next to you.

You finish making your coffee and leave the kitchen. Changbin stands in confusion for a second. You pull out your phone and head to the couch.

"Hey! Why are you ignoring me?" Changbin yells, quickly getting more frustrated.

"I don't know, why don't you go and ask the pillsbury doughboy." You spit, not looking up from your phone.

"W-what? What are you talking about? Are you drunk?" He questions.

You sit in silence, going back to ignoring him. Changbin stands in the kitchen thinking about what could have possibly happened.

"Pills...pillsbury...doughboy...doughboy...dough...ah...aH AH! Wait," You hear him scramble out the kitchen and slide in front of you.

Your eyes meet his panicked ones. He realized what he said the night before, finally. He knows that you struggle with your weight and the last thing he ever wanted to do was to make up feel uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I promise. I was just really tired and that was my attempt at being funny." He says quickly.

"You called me soft and squishy," You grumble.

"I like soft and squishy! I'm soft and squishy. Look, poke me in the stomach," He quickly lifts up his shirt, exposing his stomach. He's purposely pushing his stomach out.

"Changbin--"

"Poke it, Y/n." He urges. You sigh and humor him by poking him right above his belly button. He immediately lets out the most high pitched giggle you've ever heard from him.

You can't help but laugh, doubling over in laughter. Which causes Changbin to laugh and then you to laugh even harder. You manage to put your coffee cup on the floor to avoid spilling it on the couch while you laugh.

"S-see. I'm a pillsbury doughboy. We can be soft and squishy together."

"Okay, B-bin." You wipe tears from your eyes and smile at Changbin.

"And if I ever hurt your feelings in the future, just tell me. How am I supposed to fix it if I don't know what's wrong?"

황 현 진 (Hwang Hyun-Jin) (366 words)

You're physically clingy

Hyunjin stares in shock when you moved away from him the second he tried to cuddle with you.

"What is this? Do you not love me anymore?" He cries.

"I'm just giving you space like you wanted," You whisper as you tighten the the blanket around yourself and squeeze the stuffed animal you are holding closer to your chest.

"When you did I ask you to give me space?" His eyes focus on you but he couldn't see your face. It's hidden behind the blanket and you're staring forward at the tv.

Earlier in the day you were feeling needier than usual and wanted nothing more than to cuddle with Hyunjin. You know he doesn’t like skinship unless he initiates it, but he let’s you get a pass on that rule. But, for whatever reason, Hyunjin snapped when you were trying to cuddle into him and asked you for some space and called you clingy. You went into the living room, grabbing a stuffed animal and blanket with you.

You had boyfriends in the past that broke up with you because you were too clingy. Its made you be overly cautious at the start of your relationship with Hyunjin but over time you grew more comfortable around him. Hearing him call you clingy earlier set you off worrying that he was going to leave you.

“Oh, this morning?” He asks softly when he sees a tear fall down your face. He gently wipes the tear with the pad of his thumb and stares at you with soft eyes.

“Yeah, when you called me clingy.” You whisper.

“I’m sorry for that. I didn’t mean—Ah, don’t cry more.” Hyunjin wraps you in a hug and strokes your back.

“S-sorry. I just don’t want you to leave me.” You sob.

“I’m not leaving you, I promise. I was just annoyed and needed a little bit of space. But I’m sorry I made you think that you were being annoying.”

“It’s o-okay. Just brought up some stuff.”

“To make up for it, we’re going to stay like this until you think I’m being clingy.”

“You’re going to be there forever then, Hyun.”

“If it’s you, I’m fine with that.”

한 지 성 (Han Ji-Sung) (420 words)

You can't sing

"Ah, my ears! I think they're bleeding." Jisung laughs.

You two were home all day and you suddenly started doing karaoke on your phone. You know you can’t sing, it’s a fact you’ve known about yourself your whole life. It’s the fact that your boyfriend, who has so much talent that you’re not even sure how there’s any left for the rest of the world, is the one who pointed it out.

Losing confidence, you finish the song quietly. Jisung thought that you were just tired from singing the ballad and quit halfway through.

"Let's do a duet," He says excitedly, taking your phone out of your hands to look for the next song.

"My throat hurts. I'm going to get some water. Why don't you do a solo?" You softly smile before getting up and heading to the kitchen.

***

"Why won't you sing with me?" Jisung whines from the floor. He had done about 5 more songs and after each one he asked you to sing with him.

"My throat still hurts, Ji." You lie.

Jisung stares at the ceiling for a few minutes before picking up your phone and choosing a new song. He quickly stands up and hands you one of the fake mics.

You watch in awe as Jisung purposely butchers the song and waits for you to join in. You can't help but laugh.

'What are you doing you can sing better than that" You giggle.

"I know I can but I need to match my Jagi's amazing abilities." He says, pushing the fake mic toward you again. You sigh and take the mic from him and humor him.

"See, you can still have fun even when you don't sound the best." Jisung adds.

"I never said it wasn’t fun.” You groan.

"Yeah, but I know it hurt your feelings when I pretended to hate your singing. I’m sorry by the way. I’m used to making those joke with the boys.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s the truth.”

“It’s not the truth. You’re my favorite singer. Now please sing a duet with me and make my dreams come true.” Jisung pouts.

“You are so lying through your teeth right now, but I’ll humor you.” You roll your eyes and get off the couch. Jisung walks closer to you so you two can pick a song together.

“I really am sorry. You know I would never purposely hurt your feelings.”

“I know, Ji. And that’s one of the reasons why I love you. Now pick a song.”

이 용 복 (Lee Felix Yong-Bok) (434 words)

You're a bit dumb

"Shit!" Felix slams down the controller and places his head in his hand.

"Sorry, I was trying to get--" You try to explain as you watch his character die on screen. You were playing as healer and accidently put him in a position to die rather than heal him. That was his last life for this round, he'd have no choice but to spectate for the rest of the game.

"That was the dumbest shit you've ever done." He groans.

"Lix, I was trying--" You take your eyes off the screen and look at your boyfriend who was running his hands through his hair.

"Look out-- you've got to be joking. Are you stupid, why would you look away? Now the rest of the team is going to have to play without a healer for the rest of the round." You watch as Felix rest his head in his hands.

You get up and storm into the bedroom, no longer wanting to play games with him. You know he can get mad during games. It was cute and often you would just watch or sit with him while he played so you could watch him struggle. What you couldn't deal with, was him calling you stupid.

You know you're not dumb, but you also know that you're never the smartest person in the room and you're okay with that. You do dumb things and you're okay with that. But you've heard enough people insult you for your little slip ups and berate you by calling you dumb.

You hear the door creak as Felix pokes his head in. You roll your eyes and bury your face into the bed. You feel the bed dip down around you and Felix lay his entire body on top of yours. He fidgets a bit while he tries to worm his arms under you and hug you. He presses a kiss to the back of your neck before turning his head so he could lay down comfortable.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to call you stupid. I just got carried away while gaming.” He mumbles into your back.

“I know, but it still hurts.” You pout. You turn your head so you can get some air.

“I know. I promise to not do it again. How can I make it up to you? Kisses?” He asks, slight wiggling his fingers into your side.

“I think yes." You giggle, unable to resist his tickling.

"Really? How many?" He laughs.

"Hmm... five hundred?"

"Five hundred! Well, I guess I better get started now." Felix starts peppering your face with kisses.

김 승 민 (Kim Seung-Min) (822 words)

You're a bit immature

"Oh wow, Y/n, that was so mature." Seungmin says dryly walking into the room.

You giggle as you finish making breakfast for yourself. Last night you had the idea to mess with Seungmin's shampoo bottle and to rig the sink to spray him with water as a harmless prank. He's always pranking you and you finally had a way to get him back. You put a bit of plastic wrap between the bottle and the cap so none would come out. You thought it would be extra funny to do it to all the bottles in the bathroom. You heard him yell while you were cooking and laughed. And then you taped the faucet so that it would spray water on him when he went to brush his teeth. You know that the first thing he does when he wakes up is brush his teeth so only his pajamas would be wet.

Only, you didn't account for Seungmin waking up late. You only woke up because he started swearing loudly when he woke up. He has an important meeting and you felt a little bad, but by the time you realized he was already in the bathroom and locked the door. So, you went ahead and made something that he could eat on the way since he wouldn't have much time to sit and eat and slipped it in his bag.

"I'm sorry Minnie, I couldn't help it. It was really funny." You giggle again.

"You really need to grow the fuck up," He grumbles before he leaves the apartment, not saying goodbye.

You could understand his anger. He hates being late so that, on top of your little series of pranks, was a justifiable reason for him to be mad at you. What you couldn't deal with is the face that he told you to grow up.

You've grown up with your parents constantly telling you to grow up anytime you were enjoying something. Maybe you were being childish, but it rubbed you the wrong way and now two of you are in a bad mood.

***

When Seungmin came home, you were nowhere to be found. Seungmin spent most of the day in a bad mood and when Chan asked him about it, that's when he felt bad about how he reacted this morning. Chan let him go home after the meeting so he could fix things with you.

He looked around the apartment for you and couldn't find you anywhere. He knew he was a bit harsh, not even saying goodbye to you as he left, but he didn't think you would leave.

He sat down on the couch and waited. He knew you possibly couldn't have left him over this morning. The two of you had bigger arguments over the years that would make more sense for you to leave.

After and hour of waiting, Seungmin decided to clean up while he waited. He went through his bag that he took with him to work and found the egg sandwich and coffee that you made for him. Feeling even more guilty for his behavior this morning. He quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket and tried calling you. The phone rings for a couple of seconds before it goes to voicemail. He then sends you a series of text, getting frustrated when he sees the little 'read' message indicator appear under each of his messages.

A few more hours after that you finally come home. You find Seungmin in the kitchen cooking dinner.

"Oh, so you do remember where you live. Do you remember that you have a phone too?" Seungmin asks.

"And I'm the childish one," You mumble under your breath as you walk to the bathroom.

When you turn the water faucet on, the water sprays out at you, soaking your clothes. You took the tape off earlier when you went to brush your teeth so that shouldn't have happened.

"Seungmin, what the fuck?" You should, walking into the living room in your drenched clothes.

"Ha, it worked." He smirks while looking down at the pot he was currently checking.

"Oh, so. it's funny when you do it but childish when I do?" You roll your eyes.

"I never said that you were childish." He turns the fire off under one of the pots and wipes his hands clean on his apron.

"You implied it."

"Is that why you're mad at me? Because you think I called you childish?" He stays in the kitchen but cocks his head to the side.

"I know you did, I was there."

"I'm sorry for snapping at you. I had no right to take my anger out on you. And I'm sorry for calling you immature."

"Sorry for overreacting to you calling me immature." You mumble, digging your foot into the carpet.

"Good, now come give me a hug."

"My clothes are soaked."

"It's just water, idiot. I'll live."

양 정 인 (Yang Jeong-In) (514 words)

You're loud

"You're being so loud." Jeongin groans.

You immediately shut up, not realizing that your volume had increased while you were talking. Of course, you’re aware of your habit of talking loudly when you’re excited. You were mostly good at catching yourself before his happened. But some time you got carried away.

You know he's joking. He has to be. But something in you tells you that he's not. You press your lips together as your eyes shift around the room. You two were hanging around some of the other boy, but everyone was minding their own business. You quietly mumble a sorry and pull your phone out.

***

The rest of the time you hung out with Jeongin and the boys, you hadn't said a single word. The other boys had picked up on what was going on and Jeongin was blissfully unaware.

"What about you, Y/n? What do you want to eat?" Jeongin asked you, patting your leg.

You shrug your shoulders, not looking up from the book you are reading. Jisung remembered that he was supposed to let you borrow a manga series a few weeks ago and brought out the first few books for you to read when he realized you weren't going to talk anymore.

"I know you're picky, but they have a lot of things you like so tell me what you want." He pats your leg again, thinking you're too engrossed in the book to answer him.

You roll your eyes and pull out your phone and send a text to Jisung with your order before putting your phone back down and picking up the book.

"She said she was spicy cheese tteokbokki with egg and extra fishcake and a honey lemon bubble tea. And she said she doesn't care which piece of chicken we get." Jisung says loudly to Seungmin who is ordering the food.

"Why didn't you just say that?" He asks confused, looking at you while trying to read your expression.

"She's not talking to you, idiot." Hyunjin says from his spot on the floor. He and Felix are looking at something on Felix's laptop.

"What? Why?" Jeongin says, whipping his head towards Hyunjin.

"She hasn't said a single word in two hours after you said she was being loud. Which, if you think she was being loud, what the fuck do you think of Changbin hyung? Anyway, you probably hurt her feelings." Seungmin adds.

Jeongin turns his back to face you. You brought the book closer to face to avoid looking at him.

"Did...did I hurt your feelings?" He asks softly. He leans his head on your shoulder.

"Yeah, you did." You mumble.

"I'm sorry, jagi. I didn't mean it in a mean way. I just meant that you were getting loud, but I rather be loud than never hear you again." He kisses your cheek and you melt. You know that he's not big on pda and if he's willing to kiss you in front of the other boys he must be sorry.

"Oh, I'm about to be so annoying." You laugh.

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

Taglist

Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you (either at all or properly)

@berryblog @jaydebow @junebug032 @boiohboii @heistheavatar @lieslab @rainbae-anon @k-cock @hamburgers101 @mrswolfiechan @soulboundauthor @weird-bookworm @thisisnotjacinta @seungmyynie @halesandy @kpopsstuffs @honeydew93 @dandycharmer @stay278 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @babrieeee @brain-empty-only-draken @tenmii @tattywood @blueforte @jihanlovic @felixglow @alyszaen @nuronhe @soonyoungblr

#feelbokkie writes #stray kids #skz #chan #bangchan #bang chan #lee know #minho #lee minho #changbin #seo changbin #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #han #jisung #han jisung #felix #yongbok #lee felix #lee yongbok #lee felix yongbok #seungmin #kim seungmin #i.n #jeongin #yang jeongin #x reader #skz imagine #stray kids imagine

[inklore]

I took this concept from your inpso tag and adapted it but:

Roman Godfrey + choking you and whispering "you're mine." in your ear as he pounds you into the mattress. bonus points if there's blood.

LOVE YOUUU

playful poison

— roman godfrey x (f)reader

word count: 628

warnings: eighteen+ content, rough-ish p in v, choking, jealousy, dirty talk, mentions of creampie and blood.

note: me writing roman godfrey smut in 2023? embarrassing but hello i cannot be responsible for my actions when men are as beautiful as him ok.

Maybe it was childish of you to love the thrill of the game. No matter how one sided and deliberately rigged it was. The threat of the outcome ending in something gruesome or with your lungs burning from a fight that you started the minute you decided to bat your eyes at some sorry sucker at the bar. The thrill that shot through you when Roman’s eyes would scan the room with neutrality, his entire body growing stiff, an undeniable tick in his jaw, when his eyes fell upon you.

Upon the little scheme you had devised. 

A scheme he knew all too well—a game he only allowed you to play on nights when he was in a good mood. 

And thankfully for you, he was in a good mood tonight. A giving mood. 

A mood that wouldn’t end in a screaming match but rather the reason you kept the game going. The outcome of a move you already had planned and hoped for even before your chess pieces had been put on the table. 

“You’re mine.” His teeth graze your ear as he whispers the words with harsh restraint. The hot breath from his mouth heats your already hot body to something sweltering. Something that has you gripping his sides harder. “You know that, right? Your constant need for a reminder has my patience wearing thin,” he whispers, barely holding the bite meant to be within them. His thumb rubs the skin on your neck before he tightens his grip around your throat. 

A gasp pulls from your lungs before he closes them completely. His hips languid and slow as he fucks you. As he takes his time to drive his cock into your aching pussy. 

His teeth nip into your neck, “do I need to repeat myself?” Your body arches into his when you feel the light nick of a fang. “Do I need to drain you of everything until you’re begging for the life only I can give you? Do you need that reminder?” The swivel of your head is barely able to make the same impact as the whimper you let out does. “You do look so fucking pretty covered in your own blood, though,” he grunts. 

The heat of his other palm grips the back of your thigh as he pulls your leg further up his body, driving his cock deeper into you. The head of his cock pushing against that part of your walls that makes you cry out until your throat is hoarse and you’re not sure if it’s pain or pleasure—or the lack of air getting to your lungs from the hand around your throat—that has you spineless and weak beneath him. 

If there are two things you know for certain about Roman, it’s that he uses fucking as a tactic to get what he wants and to punish. 

And with the harsh rut of his pelvis, the relentless pounding, you know that he’s getting off on your pain. Of your oversensitivity, of the need that he’s giving on the same stroke he withholds from touching and hitting the spots that would have you coming on his cock. 

You haven’t earned it yet. 

You know he’s thinking. That he’s testing you. That he’s playing a game with your pleasure, the same game you played with him earlier. The same game both of you are used to, but your body still has yet to not ache and mewl from the torment of it all. 

“I can feel your cunt gripping my dick. You know what to say to get what you want. Or should we keep playing games, and I fill your hole and leave it dripping, and wanting for something you don’t deserve because you don’t know how to behave?” 

#roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey smut #roman godfrey #bill skarsgard x reader #roman godfrey imagine #bill skarsgard fanfiction #roman godfrey x you #roman godfrey fic #hemlock grove #bill skarsgard smut

[sage-green-matcha]

“you say it’s big but you take it, ride cowgirl” with ethan pls 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

love your writing btw ❤️

TAKE IT - ETHAN LANDRY 🦢

“You say it’s big but you take it, ride cowgirl” - Frank Ocean

MINORS DNI!

Content includes: SMUT! P in V sex, jealous Ethan, Ethan stretching you out beforehand, praise kink, biting, spit!

A/n: tysm!!! <33 And ty for the request!

<3

<3

<3

Your breath hitched as you were pulled against the crowded hallway, Ethan's hand dragging your arm. "Ethan...Ethan! What the fuck?" He had pulled you into one of the bedrooms. "What do you think you're doing?" You shook your head in confusion.

"What?" You scoffed, looking at his anger-covered face. "You're seriously gonna let him touch you like that? You like it, don't you?" "I-...Ethan you don't own me, just because we hooked up once doesn't mean that you can go around being jealous" he furrowed his eyebrows, arms crossed as he looked you up and down.

"Plus, you have no reason to be jealous" you sighed, back pressed against the wall. "Yea? Why's that?" You felt small as he stood over you, fist above your head. "You know..." his eyes glistened with lust and you knew, he knew exactly what you meant.

Ethan was tall, but his shyness took away from people being intimidated by him. He was the dorky nerd with "potential" You knew he was more than that, he had shown you before and you knew how intimidating he could actually be.

It was only supposed to be a one-time thing. You knew it was wrong, to hide it from your group of friends but you couldn't stop thinking about him. The way his thick cock stretched out your walls, pain and pleasure fucking you out while he barely thrusted.

Your small hands wrapped around his dick, sucking and licking on his tip as your hands tried to jerk him off. You felt disgusted with yourself thinking about it, but it was already done and you didn't regret it at all. "Want me to show you again?" You looked up at him, gulping.

Next thing you knew his head was deep in between your legs, echos of your moans running around the room. You held onto his hair tightly, the feeling of your fingers grabbing onto his scalp making him hungrier. His tongue did tricks on your pussy, sucking and biting to make you forget about anyone else except him.

You squirmed and pleaded under his touch, your back arching while he rubbed on your clit. "You gonna let me stretch you out sweet thing?" You nodded eagerly, Ethan's finger slipping into your cunt. The pads of his fingers tapped against your walls, tightening around him.

He thrust his fingers deeper into you, your lips puffy as you bit down on them. You couldn't hold back your moans as you felt him slip in another finger, basically prying your pussy hole open. Your face was pushed into the pillow, crying from the mix of pleasure and harsh pain. "I'm sorry baby, your hole is too small"

It felt like an eternity before he finally decided you were stretched out enough, having you sit on top of his bare thighs. He sat up on the edge of the bed, your weeping and stretched-out pussy waiting for him to thrust inside of you. You looked down in between your thighs, Ethan's hand pumping at his fat cock.

It was bigger than you had remembered, looking at him with concerned eyes. "Don't be scared, you can take it" You looked back down at his cock, wrapping your hand around his tip. He was leaking with precum, his cock hot and throbbing. "It's big" you chewed on your lip.

You lowered your head onto Ethan's shoulder, biting his skin as you rested yourself down on his dick. Your breathing was heavy, whining in pain as his hands rested on your hips. "You're doing so good, pretty girl" You struggled to hold back a groan, the dirty sound filling Ethan's ears.

He decided to help you out, thrusting his cock all the way inside of you. You cried at the feeling, drool dripping off of Ethan's shoulder. The bite mark that you had left was deep, covered in your spit.

His cock filled you up to the brim, stretching your walls out even more than his fingers did. "You okay? You know you can take it" but you weren't sure if you could, barely able to push yourself back up.

You nodded into his shoulder, lips pressed against his soft skin before you moved yourself up. The sound of wetness and whimpers filled your ears, gaining you some confidence.

His hands moved down to your ass, giving you a tight squeeze before you moved up again. His head was lowered as he watched his cock obliterate your insides, the bulge on your belly driving him insane.

You focused on keeping steady breaths, and a steady pace. Unfortunately for you, Ethan had began to grow impatient, fucking his cock into you harshly. Your nails scratched at his back, his cock harshly hitting your g spot. "Told you, you could take me"

#ethan landry #fanfic #jack champion #scream #celebrities #cute #jack champion x reader #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x y/n #avatar #ethan landry angst #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry drabble #ethan landry fic #jack champion scream #jack champion fanfic #jack champion oneshot #scream movies #scream 6 smut #scream franchise #scream vi #ethan landry scream #jack champion fluff #jack champion angst #jack champion x y/n #oneshot #ethan landry fanfiction

[ohnoitstbskyen]

So, considering what's going on with Riot right now, do you think Arcane Season 2 got caught up in all of this restructuring?

Yes and no. Arcane season 2 is part of the reason for the restructuring.

As I understand it, internally at Riot, after Arcane was a huge (and more importantly: prestigious!) success, the decision was made to basically hand the entirety of the game's lore and story over to the Entertainment division within Riot. These are the people in large part responsible for projects like Arcane, K/DA, Heartsteel, that animated series China got, all that sort of thing.

The writers at Riot were basically told to flat out stop producing new content and lore for the game - that's why there's BEEN no new story content for League for over a year - because everything was going to be consolidated under the Entertainment division from now on. This is why Riot started talking about "One Runeterra" and "Arcane is going to be canon" and so on.

The success of Arcane convinced executives that what League of Legends needs is a singular cohesive brand with its most successful public property leading the charge, Arcane is going to be the gateway drug, the hook on the end of the line that brings new players and new paying customers into the exciting world of the League of Legends multimedia IP universe!

Nevermind that Arcane's story and worldbuilding is fundamentally incompatible with >checks notes< the overwhelming majority of Runeterra as it exists and enormous compromises would have to be made to either the world of Runeterra or Arcane itself to make it work. Arcane is the big shiny prestigious mainstream Emmy-award winning project that every executive wants to put their name next to, and like companies Pivoting To Video in 2015 because Facebook showed them inflated viewership stats, Riot Games is Pivoting To Arcane. It's better than them pivoting to crypto and NFTs, at least, although I know for a fact that high ranking people at Riot tried to make that happen too.

Now, the primary cause for all of these games industry layoffs is that interest rates aren't zero anymore. Borrowing money isn't free, the curve of constant growth has ever so slightly slowed, taking on debt is becoming a little tiny bit more risky than it was previously, and corporations are responding to this with massive rounds of layoffs and constriction to show "financial responsibility" and prove to shareholders that they are prioritizing core growth strategies and blah blah blah etc. They're also trying to kneecap the growing labor movement in the games industry and exert downwards pressure on wages, but the interest rates seem to have been the main thing.

In Riot's particular case, a secondary reason is they want to pivot the focus of the company to support their One Runeterra pipe dream, so a lot of the people who got fired at Riot are writers, artists, creative leads and sometimes extremely senior and successful staff who are now surplus to requirements. This is also why Riot shut down Riot Forge in the same round of layoffs - can't have a bunch of talented indie devs going off making video games that don't adhere to the new One Runeterra policy. What if someone played Mageseeker and got confused how there can be mages all over Demacia but somehow there are no mages in Arcane's Piltover and Zaun. That's a plot hole! People write snarky articles about that sort of thing. It turns off new consumers! What if Cinema Sins makes a video making fun of it?!?

So yeah. A bunch of cocaine-addled fame hungry executive vultures at Riot are absolutely gagging on their own d*cks to put their name next to Arcane related projects, and since they were going to be screwing hundreds of people out of their careers, healthcare, and in some cases their fucking visa status anyway, it seems to have presented a nice opportunity to clear the board for their latest Visionary Scheme for the company IP.

That is as I understand the situation, anyway. I'm a bitter old man and most of what I hear is second hand and anonymous gossip through my social networks, take what I say with a grain of salt, but I've followed this company for (oh god) twelve years now and I have developed a tragically keen understanding of how its executive class operates.

#league of legends #riot games #arcane #arcane season 2 #runeterra #games industry #layoffs

[lyneira]

Spicy Rengoku headcanons!

-> how rengoku would be like in bed

kyojuro rengoku x fem!reader / cw: cunnilingus, creampie, virginity loss, breeding kink

part 2 including rengoku, tengen, sanemi, giyuu, gyomei and haganezuka!

a/n: I recently finished the mugen train arc and just needed more of him 🥲

He'd do everything with such fervor that there's no doubt you'll know exactly how much of it he has. The erotic noises that would emerge from him would be a testament to this. When he's eating you out, you'll hear how loudly he'll slurp up your juices, smacking his lips as he swallows your nectar, humming lowly into your pussy, "Delicious... So delicious!" He'll loudly moan out in between slurps. Or hearing how harshly his skin slaps against yours as he fucks you, the wet, gushing sounds of his dick repeatedly caressing your inner walls and kissing your core filling the air

Not only will you hear the extent of his passion for you, you'll see it too. When he comes up from between your thighs, you can observe your essence stained on his face, the juices dripping from the sides of his mouth and even from his flushed cheeks. He doesn't bother wiping it off because he's too drunk on your arousal to do so. Plus, if this sight would prove how much he craved and desired you, then he would let you make a mess of him all the more.

On that note, won't you allow him to do the same? He'd be ecstatic if you'd let him both creampie you and release all over you. No need to worry about how much that would take, he has so much love to give you and won't stop until he's given you it entirely. To see you so full of him, his seed dripping from both of your lips and all over your skin would be a sight that'd set him ablaze (heh)

Therefore, I think he'd also have a breeding kink too? He would love to have little ones bringing joy to both you and him, and the thought of being able to teach them and guide them all he knows would be so endearing in his eyes. To have this family with you would be the reason why he'd relentlessly fuck his seed into you for countless nights until you've finally shown signs of pregnancy. And even then, he'd want to fill you up, to cater to your cravings and because of how lovely you looked with your belly swollen

Whether it came to eating you out or fucking your brains out, he'd do them all with such enthusiasm. This man would be bursting with energy and would last much more than a couple of rounds with you, making love to you without his strength ever waning. He firecely devotes himself to his passions, and you're one of them, so he'd go all night and to the morning if he really wanted to.

He'd definitely be vocal! He isn't afraid to voice out how good you're making him feel whether it's through his loud, guttural moans that send vibrations through your body when he presses his lips against your skin or through his praises of you. Grunts, groans, moans, you'll hear them all! LOL

He'd be more than willing to try out all kinds of positions with you. He'd probably enjoy positions where he can firmly ground himself so that he can fuck you at a relentless pace with little to no interruption. So having your back pressed against the wall and legs wrapped around his waist or over his shoulders as he thrusts up into you would be one of his favorite things to do. Also, mating press for sure! (So that he's able to lodge himself in the deepest parts of you and release his seed)

Also, imagine him being the one to take your virginity? Him guiding you through your first time? He'd be such a natural at instructing you and making sure you would feel ready to take him in. He would be the very definition of gentle, but firm

After eating you out and fingering your tight, virgin hole enough, he'll pull out his cock, already stained with his precum, and would slide it up and down your pussy, letting his essence mix with yours to ease and smoothen his motions.

Looking at his dick and feeling the weight of it on your entrance would leave you feeling anxious and would have you wondering if it would fit. Because although he had prepared you so well, the sight of it (specifically his girth) would still intimidate you. If you tell him, "It won't fit", as he's ready to sheathe himself inside of you, he'll take his other hand, bring it to your face to softly caress your cheek, and would assure you it will, saying, "I know you can take me in, sweetheart. It'll hurt a little bit, but I promise you it will feel good. There's no need to be scared. I've got you. Trust me"

And of course you trust this ray of sunshine so you give him the go-ahead and he'd finally insert himself into you. You’d sharply gasp as you feel the thickness of his cock splitting you open, to which he'll quickly assuage you by rubbing circles on your hip and cooing, "I'll take it slow. Take a deep breath for me, y/n... Ease into my length"

Sure enough, you'd gradually adjust to the sheer size of his cock as he slowly buries himself into your cunt, inch by inch

And as he begins to quicken his pace, he'd heave out, with a small chuckle, "You're doing so good..! Ah, so tight..!! Squeezing my cock, just like that...!"

I also see Rengoku as the type to intensely stare at your face as he makes love to you, both relishing the delightful, expressions of pain and pleasure you'd give him and ensuring that he's not truly hurting you. So don't be startled when you open your eyes to see his fiery hues locked in on yours as he's giving his love to you

Overall, very enthusiastic, eager, loud, and has a lot of stamina when it comes to sex

© 2023 lyneira. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, PLAGIARIZE, OR REPOST MY WRITING ONTO OTHER PLATFORMS

#kny smut #demon slayer smut #rengoku smut #kyojuro rengoku #rengoku x reader #nene writes~♡ #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader

[linkedin-offficial]

is this anything . sky:cotl au

details (aka my rambling) under the cut

mostly set upon the whole idea that caine came from eden and tries to help everyone gain their wings (albeit doing a terrible job the entire time)

bubble keeps the name bubble!

they r a mantatee :3 suprisingly chaotic for a light creature and sort of has the "eat light and puff out candles" personality that caine should have but doesn't

i contemplated caine being called "the creature" just for shits and giggles (and eventually went with it) since im absolutely certain everyone who ever meets him ever would be terrified for a little bit until they realize hes sentient; he doesn't understand that the name is supposed to be sort of derogatory

caine is the only one with wings because hes the only one who can canonically fly/float!

(and yes his head is supposed to be a dark plant . i like to think im big brain for this)

the reason why his dark plant head is tinted red btw . my thought process was basically "ah yes. red = good bcus eden :]" even though thats convoluted since everyone hates eden but that makes it better in a way. i think

zooble > mismatched worksmith

"bows" given to them by ragatha as an identifier; not like theyd need one though ..

constantly making their own prosthetics due to growing boredom with their previous ones (autism™) and also carved the designs into their mask themself

kinger > reluctant royalty

same old kinger as usual .. when asked what he rules he doesnt particularly remember nor have an answer so hes usually treated with respect out of pity for being old and senile

second tallest behind jax , also the oldest (if you dont count caine i guess? whos sort of. ageless)

ragatha > plush friendfinder

matching bow with jax :3 sibling moment! (yes i like the ragatha + jax sibling dynamic . its amazing to me)

right eye does not glow and actually looks like a hollow hole if you get close enough to her face! also clothing making buddies with zooble :] she taught them how to sew without pricking themself

gangle > wrapped up theatre-goer (i had such a hard time thinking of a name .. and to be honest?? im not solid on this but WHAGEVER.)

shortest. obviously

likes to write plays in her spare time and reads them to zooble while they work

clothes are sectioned and Very flowy, and has a few (cracked and broken) masks she likes to use for play improv (and also uses for herself sometimes if she has a hard time expressing a certain emotion)

jax > towering tease (it sounds stupid but THIS is so fucking funny.i cannot resist this)

tallest OBVIOUSLY. like stupidly tall . has its advantages and disadvantages (like being able to steal things from gangle with no consequences . on the other hand. doorframes)

him being tall and having that be the only thing hes got going for him is absolutely hilarious to me and im leaning into that hard

he has a tail also, but its small and not visible from the chart

pomni > jittery jester (i had to look up "other words for anxious" for this.my intelligence is showing)

pretty much the only one i referenced real in game clothing for, which sort of fits! protag moment

this was all i really had, since other established things like their personalities and relationships arent really changed much. but this was fun to think about :3 input is appreciated !

#special thanks to twi for reminding me sky exists and therefore beamed this vision into my mind #im kind of obsessed #also speaking of which #be kind to me for this but if anything looks off or weird #its bcus i havent touched sky in like . literal months #so my memory of it is hazy HFJDJD #and yes im procrastinating on posting other stuff to post this . why do u ask #... ill get to it #eventually .. #the amazing digital circus #sky children of the light #sky cotl #um. lots of tags this time uh oh #tagging everyone bcus its important here we go #tadc gangle #tadc kinger #tadc zooble #tadc pomni #tadc caine #tadc bubble #tadc jax #tadc ragatha #there we go #tadc sky:cotl au