#tojiphile

as you lay in bed, you could still hear the reverberations of music and the boisterous laugh of middle aged men and women alike. you groaned and covered your head with a pillow, trying to drown out the noise. so when he knocked on your door, opened it when you didn’t answer, and walked in, you jumped when the weight shifted on your bed as he sat down.

“i didn’t mean to scare you,” he says kindly, lending you a smile, “you just seemed… off, today. i wanted to check in on you.”

you sit up. this man was your dad’s best friend of years. not having any kids of his own, he spoilt you rotten. he bought you all the toys and pretty dresses that your dad refused to, arguing that they were too expensive before throwing money at gambling or whatever new woman walked into his life. as you grew up, you couldn’t help but develop a soft spot for him. when you sat still and pretty during dinners and parties, nodding along like a good girl your father demanded you be, your eyes always fell on him. his charming disposition, the way he chided your father like no one else could, and the way he’d always put food on your plate first, giving you a wink as you said thank you wordlessly.

of course, when your friends would talk about dilfs, your mind would never go to your father, the deadbeat dad who provided nothing for you. instead, you would always think about him. his salt and pepper hair that he ran his calloused hands through, smile lines set on his face more defined than any wrinkles, his toned body that you would dream about, touch yourself to every night. you were suddenly conscious that you weren’t wearing a bra. nor shorts.

“i’m fine.” you pull your blanket up to cover your chest. maybe it was the six pack of beer or the cask strength whiskey, but your head was pounding, and your heart was racing. he put a large hand on your thigh. your blanket hid your bare skin from his, but his gentle touch already sent heat pooling in your lower body.

“i’m sorry about your dad,” he says, “he’s an idiot.” he rubs your thigh reassuringly, perhaps innocently unaware of what he’s doing to you, “he doesn’t know how to treat a woman. much less his perfect daughter.”

you flush. was he really saying this? he continues, “i’ve tried to tell him so many times, y’know? how amazing you are, so filial, better than so many other daughters this day and age. he keeps blaming it on your mum leaving but god, that shouldn’t be a fucking excuse.”

he’s working himself up, you can tell as his brow furrows, his arms tense. it feels good to be validated, especially when your father was so unmoving. you place a hand on his toned arm, “i’m fine, but thanks.”

“but you shouldn’t be fine!” he stands up, pacing. you internally bemoan the loss of contact, “if i was your dad, i’d never treat you this way,” he sits back down softly, brushing a stray hair behind your ear, “if you were mine, i’d take care of you.”

his flushed face is inches from yours, you can smell the whiskey on his breath and see the heat in his gaze, almost blazing. he cups your face gently, eyes studying your face before falling back to your eyes, “you’re perfect, so beautiful.” you hold his gaze, you don’t know where this is going but you don’t want this moment to end.

the moment ends when you both hear your father yell and a beer bottle break. he must have lost in a game of poker. before you can react, your father’s best friend shoots up, “i’m sorry,” he trudges towards your bedroom door, “i shouldn’t have come up.”

his hand is already on your door handle and your mouth acts before your brain can stop it, “no.” he turns to look at you.

your pull the blanket off, revealing your bare legs, nipples perky against your thin shirt, “stay.”

his breath hitches, and you can see his pants tightening. he can’t peel his eyes away from you but he manages to mutter, “it’s wrong.”

you turn your body to his, spreading your legs and placing your feet on the bed, exposing your core to him.

“please.”

whatever self control he had left seems to have evaporated at the pleading sound of your voice as he clicks your door lock into place and races over to your bed, forcing you to lie flat as he climbs on top of you, slotting himself between your spread legs, trapping you under him.

“you’re beautiful,” he whispers, leaning down to press featherlight kisses on your neck, “so beautiful.” you gasp as a hand grips your waist, running down the side of your figure.

“but this is wrong…” he tries to pull away but you stop him. “i don’t care.” you yank him by the front of his shirt, pulling all his weight on top of you as you press your lips together, running your hands down his broad back. he takes a second to react but follows your lead, he nips at your bottom lip and as you moan, he slips his tongue into your mouth.

he breaks away from the kiss, sitting up to pull off his shirt, revealing his defined abs. you let yourself feel him, reveling in the feeling. he leans back down, gaze never leaving yours but just as your lips are are about to meet, he stops. you can’t help but whine, though the sound is replaced by a gasp as a calloused hand cups you through your panties.

“you’re already soaked,” he laughs, “good girl.”

embarrassed but so unbelievably desperate, you let out a sigh, “only for you, daddy.”

he scoffs, “i know.” he pulls your panties aside, revealing your puffy pussy, “this isn’t the first time i’ve come up to your room.” he spreads you with his fingers, and you shut your eyes in anticipation, “i tried to find you last week to say goodbye but your walls are really thin. i heard you call out my name.”

the last time he was over, he must have come from the gym as his damp hair along with the tightest compression shirt you’d ever seen was enough for you to squeak out a tiny “excuse me”, before running to your room before you creamed yourself right there at the dinner table.

he slips two fingers into your greedy cunt, snapping you back to reality. he moves slowly, but his long, slender digits worked their magic, loosening you up while hitting at that spongy spot inside you. his thumb finds your clit and moves in small circles, causing your brain to short circuit. he hadn’t done much but the pleasure is insurmountable, the whole situation overwhelms you, and you find your core tightening, close. “cum for me,” he kisses down your neck, sucking near your collarbone. at his okay, you chase your release, writhing under him as his fingers continue working.

“so good for daddy,” he kisses you as you pant softly.

he slips his fingers out of your cunt and display them to you, slick and dripping. “messy girl.” you squirm as he spreads his fingers, showing off your viscous juices. he maintains eye contact with you as he takes his own digits in his mouth, sucking them clean, tasting you.

"sweet, just like you." he proclaims, booping your nose with the same finger that was just in his mouth seconds earlier. “can you take more?”

you nod. he grins, pressing a chaste kiss onto your lips. he sits up, one hand caressing your face and the other unbuckling his belt. he pulls it off in a swift motion, but before he can begin unbuttoning his pants, you move your hand to do so. "allow me," you smile up at him, puppy eyes glinting.

"someone's excited." he laughs, moving his hand to allow you to work on his buttons. his other hand, still on your face, makes its way down slowly, before his grip finally rests on your neck.

you unbutton his jeans and are faced with his grey underwear, straining from his bulge. “keep going,” he nudges you with his free hand. you pull at his waistband, allowing his cock to spring free. it’s thick, veiny, and big, bigger than any of the other boys’ you’d ever been with. tentatively, you wrap a hand around his length, causing him to hiss softly. your thumb doesn’t meet your fingers, so as you start pumping him slowly, up and down, you have to use two hands to grip him tight.

“god, you’re amazing,” he says with a sigh, giving your neck a gentle squeeze, gazing at you like you’re the most beautiful thing that’s ever crossed his sight. when you meet his eyes you can’t help but look away. still, you manage a whisper, “i- i want you.”

“say that again?” he asks, distracted by your hands working to unravel him. you flush.

“i want you…” you meet his eyes, “…in me.”

he barks out a laugh, spurred on by your boldness, “anything for you.”

he moves to stand up, shrugging off his bottoms. he moves to your bedside table and rummages around, looking for something. “any condoms?”

you shake your head. “i must have ran out. are you clean?”

he laughs. “considering you’re the first person i’ve fucked in a few years, i’d hope so.”

“good,” you hide a cheeky smile, before giving him your best puppy dog eyes, “because i really, really want daddy to give me his babies.”

with a raise of an eyebrow, he accepts the challenge. he always loves you best when you’re confident. makes him want to ruin you. he climbs back over you, spreading your thighs apart and aligning the tip of his cock with your dripping cunt.

he looks at you for your approval, and at your nod, he pushes his tip in. you gasp at the stretch, his thick cock opening you up like a present. you wanted him, no, needed him to fill you up, to make you feel so, so full.

you rut into him and he gets the hint, pushing himself deeper into you. it starts to feel painful, and you clench around him, trying to seek some relief. your fluttering walls make him feel so good, too good. he could feel himself coming close. “don’t do that!” he warns, but it comes out more as a moan.

you disobey, of course, and squeeze tighter. wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull him in deeper, causing you both to breathe in a sharp intakes of breath. any pain had evaporated into the pooling warmth in your stomach.

both of you stay in that position for a while, eyes locked. “fuck it,” he growls under his breath, grabbing onto your waist and pulling your body away from his, before snapping it back. he’s thrusting in, and pulling you off, all while his curved cock continues to hit that sweet, sweet spot that makes you see stars. you almost fall limp, but wanting to prove yourself, you start fucking yourself on his cock, lifting your hips and trying to move yourself to ease his load.

“such a good, a good girl. my good girl. my girl. my girl. mine.” he chants it like a mantra, each syllable a beat he moved along to as he fucked you silly. “who owns you?”

“you, daddy!”

he places a hand on your bare stomach and squeezes. following the curve of your body, he finds your breast. he takes your whole boob in his big hand, squeezing it so tightly it hurt. he moves to play with your nipples, rolling it around between calloused fingers, pebbling it. you moan and arch your back, allowing him to sink deeper into you.

“what a good girl you are, huh? fucking yourself on his cock. my pretty, pliant girl. ‘m gonna fill you up with my babies. wanna see your cute little stomach swell.” he lifts one of your legs, tucking it over his shoulder, allowing him to go even deeper than you thought he could. you’re squirming, trying to keep up with his relentless pounding but god it’s too much. his hand wanders your body, gripping at your tender flesh. he wants to feel you, every part of you.

just the thought makes the pooling heat in your stomach come to a boil, your toes curling, you cry out, “i’m gonna cum!” he continues fucking you, his stamina never letting up, “cum for me, my pretty girl, i’m close too.”

the pleasure is building to a climax and as he places a hand on your neck and squeezes, you feel your high washing over you, cunt convulsing over his cock. his grip doesn’t release, and black spots start to cover your vision, making you let out a shaky moan.

as he looks down at you, back arching and falling while he fucked you through your orgasm, the obscene sight of your precious body squirming under him is what takes him over the edge. he’s cumming into you, warm jets of white shooting straight into your cunt. his head empty other than his relentless thoughts, “mine, mine, mine, mine, mine.”

you both reach that peak together, gripping onto each other for dear life. when you’re all done, he presses a deep kiss on your lips and slips his softening cock out of you, rolling to lie by your side. still, greedily, he pushes his cum back into you, “take it all.”

he opens up and lets you roll into his arms. he places a gentle kiss on your forehead, and smooths out your tangled hair. you both lie there in comfortable silence, your eyes falling shut and his focused on you. soon, your breathing became even. when you fall asleep, he rolls himself out of your bed, looking down at your sleeping form, so peaceful and worry-free. he wants you to look like that always. slowly, he gets himself dressed to rejoin your dad’s party downstairs. tucking you in, he presses one final kiss on your head and whispers,

“good girl.”

you had never been a good girl, barely scraping through school, but you prided yourself on your charisma. you were always popular. after classes, you had boys lining up in the halls to give you gifts, only to be rudely dismissed should they have brought you anything other than your favourites. 

teachers weren’t safe from your charm either, and you were always willing to put on a show or more just for a passing grade. the only time you ever lowered your head was when you were on your knees, buttons popped open and skirt messily discarded, with your teacher’s cock resting heavy on your tongue. 

safe to say, you were hardly kind. 

cruel, instead, might be the right word. stone cold eyes staring down the girls that you tripped over in the halls, laughing as their skirts flipped over, exposing their panties. 

your favourite targets through, were the lanky, ugly, friendless boys—the ones with nothing to live for and no one to love them. you’d spend your lunch periods forcing them on their hands and knees, using them as feet rests while you and your friends hated on them right in their faces.

tendou satori was your favourite victim. he fit every criteria perfectly, and no one ever stopped you because he was practically begging to be bullied. his obnoxious taunts caused everyone to dislike him—you were just doing the world a favour by making him shut up.

no, you were not a good girl. 

when you dropped out of college, it was only to be expected. your parents had always expressed disappointment in how you turned out, but you turned a blind eye. who cared when you had everything?

but their disappointment turned to anger after you began to bring men and women alike back, keeping your parents sleepless in their own home. when they decided to kick you out of the house, you didn’t care. you had your friends—all the girls that wanted to be you, and all the boys that wanted to be with you. 

but you were forced to learn that a lot had changed since graduation. girls that were once your loyal dogs had moved on to bigger and better things, sick of your dirt poor treatment. boys that were once begging for your attention had found other girls to obsess over.

“sorry.” they all said, not really sorry.

a harsh slap brings you back to reality, back to the nightclub where you are untimely reunited with the boy you used to bully. 

you and tendou both changed a lot. but while your harsh words were replaced with faux smiles, his ugly jeans were replaced with fine yarn. adorned in a black suit, the man in front of you exudes luxury. 

he gives you a saccharine smile, letting your face slip from his grip, “long time no see.”

you straighten your back, patting down what little fabric covered yourself, and clear your throat. you know that if you were oh so lucky, this might be it. if tendou was an ounce more forgiving, you might be let go with an awkward wave of a hand and a request for a different waitstaff. if he didn’t hate your guts now as much as you hated him then, you might be released to mourn your bad behaviour.

but alas, it seemed as if tendou had different plans. shooting you an unfeeling smile and telling the group of people he came with to “give him a moment”, tendou stands up, placing a warm hand on the small of your back, and leads you towards the back exit. 

standing there is your boss, who you give a weak smile, internally begging him to notice something was wrong. but if he did, he made no move to show it, only grunting as he accepted the crumpled note tendou threw him, opening the door and letting you both out into the dark of the night.

you hardly notice he hasn’t said a word, too caught up in your own thoughts. as the door slams shut behind you, you’re resigned to your fate. you step away from him briefly, wanting to save some pride by cursing him out one last time, but you are pulled back by a rough hand that grabs your elbow, slamming you into the wall.

you groan in pain at the impact, but tendou doesn’t seem to care. why should he? you had done so much worse, and now, it was time for payback.

he has to lean down slightly, but tendou’s face presses close to yours, his eyes wide with a gaze both animalistic and sinister. his lips curl as he reaches up your short skirt to tug your panties down, two coarse fingers shoved in your core. it’s a tight fit, but you’re used to men being rough. you bite your lip. he’s going to have to do a lot more if he wants to hurt you.

he seems to have got the message quickly, slipping his other hand into your top, tearing away your pathetic excuse of a bra. “i knew you were a filthy cockslut,” he snarls into your ear, fingers toying with your sensitive nubs, “but i never thought i would have the chance to fuck you.”

you struggle, but between the concrete wall and tendou, you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place.

“fuck you.” you spit, trying your best to avoid complete and utter humiliation.

the calloused hand playing with your tits moves to coil around your back, pulling you closer and forcing you against his hardening cock. he laughs cruelly, mockingly replying, “don’t worry, i will.”

you feel yourself flush, unable to think of a response before he continues, in that same taunting voice that caused you to despise him years ago, “i paid for you. tonight, you’re here to serve me.” 

another long finger forces its way into you, extracting milky strands that has your heart thumping against your chest. he continues, beginning to scissor you with his fingers, stretching your cunt, prepping you for his cock.

“you’ve always been such a fucking whore,” he drawls as your cunt clenches around his fingers, “you’re clearly enjoying this.” he presses his thumb on your clit, moving in slow circles. you can feel the warmth growing in your stomach. a low growl escapes your lips, and tendou only scoffs, fingers moving faster. 

soon, your eyelids flutter shut. tendou is good with his fingers, and you start to find pride a silly thing to worry about as you’re oh so deliciously close. but just as you’re about to cum, he pulls away mercilessly, leaving you empty. your body betrays you as it leans into his touch, following his fingers. 

“squat.” he instructs you.

you tilt your head in confusion. perhaps he meant to kneel? but as your right knee touches the rough floor, tendou hoists you up by your top, hissing into your ears, “can’t you follow simple instructions? are you that fucking stupid?” he throws you back, and you draw in a sharp breath as you scrape your hands breaking your fall. 

“squat.” tendou repeats, louder, as if challenging your intelligence. you remember again why you hated him, but do so anyway. you feel the cool air against your warm cunt, shivering at the thought of how vulnerable you seem now.

“look at me,” he commands, and you look up, eyes meeting his. he towers over you, blood red eyes hazy with lust. his black suit is hardly disheveled, a stark comparison to you. your skirt is hoisted up, and your panties are hung carelessly around your ankles, as if they could slip off at any moment.

you realise how exposed you are, and how clothed tendou is. you are completely at his mercy.

your bra was messily discarded after tendou had ripped it off you minutes ago, and your top was quick to go too, as tendou reaches down and pulls it over your head.

you have half the mind to tell him to watch the hair, but when he grabs a fistful of it, you know he’d hardly care.

tendou moves you over by your hair to reach the base of his shoes.

“kiss it.”

you sputter. the memories of all the times you had forced him to kiss your feet came rushing back, but they were short-lived as he pushes your head down, causing you to lose balance and land face first on his leather shoes.

“go on now.”

you can feel his eyes on you, and you want nothing more than to crawl in a hole and die. fuck, was this how he felt? you felt so utterly humiliated, a toy just for him to play with.

you press a chaste kiss on tendou’s shoe, and he hums in satisfaction. his grip on your hair doesn’t falter, but he lets out a low chuckle, “you’re learning so quick. if only i knew this back then...”

you gasp as you feel his shoe press against your leaking cunt, rubbing at your clit with the tip of his shoe. it feels surprisingly good, and you allow yourself to move in rhythm with tendou, getting yourself off on his shoe.

his movement suddenly stops, and he forces you to look up at him.

“hump yourself.”

your cheeks burn. it was one thing to let him use you and another to move with him, but humping yourself is succumbing to him—admitting that he won, admitting that you lost.

tendou can sense your hesitation, growing more impatient, “i don’t have all night. do you want your fucking tip later or not?”

you relent, shutting your eyes and start moving. you press your cunt against the cool leather, covering it with your slick as you start to ride his shoe. your cheeks are burning, and you focused your gaze from the little piece of gum stuck on the sideway.

“fucking look at me,” he growls, “i want you to look me in the eyes as you fuck yourself on my shoe.”

he pulls your hair up, and look up to see him staring down at you, eyes ablaze. you grew frantic, embarrassment turning into lust, spurring you on and causing you to move faster.

you need to relieve the ache in your lower belly, unable to hold back a moan as tendou lifts you by your hair, dragging you up to press you against the wall, nipples hardening at the touch of the rough surface.

unzipping his pants, tendou’s thick cock springs free, resting heavy against his stomach, head leaking with precum. he licks his lips, aligning the tip of his shaft with your puffy pussy, and gives you no time to adjust as he bottoms out, forcing himself deftly against your cervix.

you cry out as pain shoots through your body. the disgustingly pornographic noises you make only spurs him on. thrusting into you harshly, he admires your wet cunt contracting around him so tightly, as if trying to push him out.

it turns him on, you, close to naked in front of him, crying at his touch. tendou gives you no mercy as he pounds into you, fucking you like a sex doll.

“you like this? the boy you tortured stretching out your filthy hole? pathetic.” he spits on your back, but you were too fucked out to formulate a reply.

“yeah, that’s fuckin’ right, you’re nothing,” even while pussy drunk, the words spill out of his mouth effortlessly, everything he’s wanted to say over the last decade of his life, “goddamn slut, you’re a disgusting fuckin’ human, i’m gonna clean you with my fuckin’ cum.”

you start toying with your own clit, grinding against him as he bullied your hole relentlessly. “t-tendou, i’m close!” you gasp, legs struggling to support your own weight.

“cum for me.”

you cry out as waves of pleasure overwhelm you, sending electricity throughout your body. your legs can’t handle it anymore, and you collapse onto the asphalt. tendou doesn’t seem to mind, fucking himself with his fist.

you gaze up at him, eyes and mind hazy as he brings himself close to the edge. he moves to stand over your face.

“open wide~” a sing-songy voice taunts you, but you obey anyway, too tired to fathom otherwise. he explodes over your face as he aims the salty streaks of white into your awaiting mouth. out of instinct, you swallow.

he scoffs, and you lay on the ground, too tired to move as he buttons his pants. redressed, he grabs a cigarette and lights it, taking a puff.

“oh!” tendou exclaims, forgetting something. he pulls his wallet out of his pocket, tossing a couple hundred-dollar bills onto your face. they stick onto your skin because of his cum, still not dry.

“your tip. i’ll see you tomorrow.”