Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3291242.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      ジョジョの奇妙な冒険_|_JoJo_no_Kimyou_na_Bouken_|_JoJo's_Bizarre_Adventure
  Relationship:
      Diavolo/Trish_Una
  Character:
      Diavolo_(Jojo), Trish_Una
  Additional Tags:
      Incest, Cunnilingus, Vaginal_Fingering, Nipple_Licking, Age_Difference,
      Daddy_Kink, Daddy_Issues, Electra_Complex, Alternate_Universe, Voyeurism,
      Vibrators, Exhibitionism, Neck_Kissing, Porn_With_Plot, Sexually
      Aggressive_Female_Character, Asexual_Character, Heterosexual_Sex,
      Consensual_Sex, Consensual_Incest, Statutory_Rape, Moral_Ambiguity,
      Emotional_Hurt/Comfort, Hand_Jobs, Long-worded_Dialogue, On_Hiatus
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-02-04 Updated: 2015-02-05 Chapters: 10/? Words: 10874
****** You Can't Channel My Illusion ******
by Schediaphilia
Summary
     Diavolo is a famous crime fiction writer, known world-wide for his
     stunning portrayals of gore mixed with mystery and justice. However,
     the man behind this alias is Soliddo Nazo, who has been trying his
     best to patch up his relationship with his estranged daughter.
     Note: Nothing in this fic is something the author endorses in real
     life.
Notes
     I have no idea what I'm doing. I don't even know how to write het. I
     have never written het in my life. Someone stop me.
***** Never Make Promises You Cannot Keep Then Wonder Why You Toss and Turn in
your Sleep *****
“That’s not going to help your migraine, idiot.”
The man in the darkened room stopped typing and let out a loud sigh. Blue
electronic illumination reflected on his form. He was wearing a tanktop and
sweatpants, and was greasy, tired, and gross.
“You need a shower.”
“Trish, you should be asleep.”
Trish snuffled with a deep frown, crossing her arms over her satin pink pajamas
as she leant on the doorway.
“Your fucking keyboard keeps me up. What, it cost more than me?”
Another dejected sigh.
“Trish… I’m sorry. I didn’t realize my keyboard was so loud.”
The man turned slowly, trying to hold a neutral expression. Charcoal eyes met
pink and then quickly broke contact. Trish looked away in indignation.
“How could you not?”
“I’m used to the noise.” The man rose and carefully flicked on the light switch
before cringing a bit, a bony hand covering his eyes. He heard a quiet groan
from the girl near him as she reacted to the sudden illumination.
“Did you need something?”
Trish seemed to consider something for a moment before she rose angrily and
blocked the doorway. Leaning forward with her arms still crossed, she looked
him in the eye.
“How long until you get sick of me, Soliddo? Or should I say Diavolo?” She
crinkled her nose in disgust.  “Writing more gorn? You’re so gross.”
Another groan.
“I know I haven’t… been a proper father to you, but-“
Trish deftly avoided the hand reaching out gently.
“Don’t play fucking games. You wanted to forget I existed. That we existed.”
With that, she stalked off to her room.
Soliddo, left standing alone in relative darkness, his eyes closed, trying to
stop the emotions from overtaking him.
“It’s not porn!” He slammed his fist suddenly on the doorway, cringing at the
immediate pain.
“Keep telling yourself that, ‘dad’!”
Silence, quiet seething, disgust, pain.
Ungrateful bitch.
He had been trying so hard these last few months. He gave her everything she
wanted. Clothes, jewelry, electronics, makeup - anything and everything. He
couldn’t provide for her emotionally though, and he knew this going into it.
But what choice did he have with Donatella dying? No child needs to be taking
care of their parent. But then again, no child needs a parent who creates and
weaves intricate stories instead of interacting like an actual parent. Much
less someone who can not express any emotion without inexplicable rage.
It wasn’t as if he was unaware of his shortcomings.
“I can’t do this…”
He sat in the worn desk chair, wheels creaking, and covered his face with his
hands, breathing erratically. He couldn’t understand. He couldn’t understand at
all. No one made him angry, no one made him feel affection. No one except
Donatella. Though it seemed their daughter was the exception.
He had craved seclusion even then; the moment his books became popular, he knew
he wanted to escape. To shed off his social mask, finally be as alone as he
craved, uncaring. He desperately tried to ignore the life he ruined, the lives
he ruined. He sent large sums of money now and then, careful for them to not be
traceable back to the writer. It wouldn’t do for anyone to know the writer’s
identity, a lonely, useless man who abandoned a woman and his child. He
foolishly assumed money was acceptable in place of love.
He still does.
He couldn’t understand. He couldn’t understand at all.
Maybe he did need a shower. He became aware of how greasy and unpleasant he
felt, made insecure by  Trish’s comment. It was true, he neglected his hygiene.
It was hard not to when you’re apathetic and have spent the majority of the
last decade and a half alone in your house writing. It was strange. To so
suddenly have someone live with him- much less a female teenager. To say she
acted like a separate species from himself was perhaps an understatement. He
relied on stereotypes, which at first worked marginally well. She seemed
pleased with the gifts he procured- not on his own of course, he ordered them
online- and seemed to be willing to at least try and like him as a father-
figure.
It wasn’t long before they both realized he had neither the maturity nor the
emotional capacity to be in this position. He rolled out of bed around 2 PM and
wrote until he fell asleep at his keyboard. He survived on delivered takeaway
food and instant noodles. He hadn’t left his house for months when he walked
outside to greet her and the driver. He couldn’t even manage to drive to
airport to pick her up himself. Something Trish reminded him of often.
If he wasn’t a successful writer, it seemed obvious that he would die living
this lifestyle. Of course, he could put on a facade of how he thought people
ought to act, but he despised it. He despised acting like he gave a fuck about
anyone, despised working for a living. No, this fit him much better. A life of
seclusion, a life where he can explore his mind further and not only that, live
well and healthy due to it. He met his dreams, as lackluster as they appeared
to his daughter and outsiders. There was nothing to be done for it- this was
happiness. This was the closest thing to happiness someone like him could
achieve, he thought.
Deciding for sure that he was in an overwhelming need of a shower, he walked
down the hall. He flicked on the light switch outside and stepped into the
bathroom. He ignored his reflection, he wasn’t in the mood to pay it any mind.
He pulled off his shirt while stepping out of the sweatpants, while pulling
back the curtain. It was when he was just about to turn on the shower that--
There was a creak. Huh? The door was open? Why was that?
There was a long pause as Soliddo turned his head and met Trish’s eyes; and a
longer pause while his exhausted brain tried to figure out what the hell had
just happened.
Trish came to her senses first, closing the door in a rush.
“Sorry! I didn’t think you’d... actually listen!”  She struggled for words and
sounded more shocked than apologetic. Finally it sunk in what had just
happened. He supposed it shouldn’t matter, it was a mistake after all, and he
didn’t particularly feel a case of familial disgust about it.
“Is there something wrong with the bathroom in your room?”
That was the only thing nagging at him. Maybe she’d let it become dirty and was
too embarrassed and prideful to take care of it herself. Should he hire
cleaners? He didn’t ever consider going into her room, he figured she’d flip
her shit in a new and spectacular way if he did so. More than that, he had no
interest in the secrets of a teenage girl.
“N… No I just… It’s cold since I left the window open. I’m… going back to bed.”
It was rather cold. It was winter, in fact. That was ill advised on her part.
“Are you sure that’s the only problem?”
He wasn’t sure why but something felt off. Very off. It seemed she was
surprised he had followed her suggestion, or rather, her insult, but something
felt very…
“... I’m sorry for yelling at you.”
With that she seemed to walk off. A quicker apology than normal. Usually she
seethed for a few days before mumbling an apology. He supposed it couldn’t be
helped and stopped worrying about the event, relaxing under the hot water.
***** Interlude *****
Chapter Summary
     An interval.
Light was in his eyes. It was unpleasant. He disliked light, especially in his
eyes when he was trying to sleep. Cracking his eyes open he felt an instant
wave of fatigue as his vision adjusted. Suddenly the light was gone and there
was only darkness. Diavolo’s sleepy mind struggled to pull in the ability to be
curious enough about the light to investigate and ultimately failed, eyes
falling back, his mind already soaring back down into sleep.
It was quiet for a few minutes.
Something was moving. Something on him was moving. Ah, it’s his quilt. Nothing
to worry about. Wait, where was it going? Now it was kind of cold. Even still
he was too tired to be disturbed too much and on top of that a heavy sleeper
and dozed back into sleep.
***** Grasping for Domesticity *****
Chapter Summary
     I am a single father, and as you know, the only things I know how to
     cook is grilled cheese and steak. Now eat your steak and cheese
     parfait.
“Shouldn’t you be in school?”
“Dad, school’s out. I’ve been home for an hour.”
Had he slept until 4 again? He checked the microwave and realized he had indeed
slept into nearly darkness. He squinted his eyes at the windows, scrutinizing
the twilight. He stopped walking to adjust the temperature. He felt rather
cold. Raising his hands above his head, he clasped them together and stretched
strongly, twisting backwards. He was rewarded with a successive cacophony of
clicks and pops. He had only one eye tiredly open as he caught Trish’s look of
disgust.
 “Oh… Sorry I forgot that bothered you.” He readjusted his t-shirt.
 “Did the groceries come today?” He asked while pulling a hairband from his
wrist he’d grabbed earlier, rubbing his hair back with his hands before
wrapping the band round once, twice, thrice, into a high ponytail. He had
barely remembered to order the groceries before passing out around… Was it 6
AM? He wasn’t sure. It didn’t really matter, he supposed.
 “Yeah. That’s bad for you hair you know.”
 Diavolo opened the fridge and felt a small bit of happiness, a strange welling
up of pride and gratitude he wasn’t used to. She had put them away for him,
usually she left them where the delivery left it- outside. In the snow.
 “What’s bad?” He asked conversationally as he looked into the freezer to pull
out two large steaks he’d ordered special. Closing that, he reached into the
fridge, grasping a small clear box filled with herbs separated into different
compartments, and leaving the door open while he walked to the counter.
 “Not brushing your hair. It’ll make your hair tangle a lot.”
 Diavolo looked over at Trish. She was staring disinterestedly at her nails-
Ah, a new manicure, she did like getting those- and avoiding eye contact. He
couldn’t remember why she might feel embarrassed so he brushed it off for the
moment.
 “What would you like for vegetables?”
 “I guess… corn is fine... But anything will do.”
 Diavolo made a noise of acknowledgement but he knew from experience she
disliked potatoes, which was a shame as he rather liked them. They were
‘useless, malnutritient, calorie loaded’ if he recalled her saying.   
 It was rare he had felt the urge to order groceries and even rarer when he had
the energy for motivation to cook. However, he felt as though he needed to
bridge the gap between his and Trish’s heart, and he figured food was always a
good way to show peace. He wasn’t exactly the best cook, he was self-taught
after all, but he could make something taste good. Assuming he had a recipe.
 “Tell me when it’s done.”
 Diavolo barely noticed her stalk off to her room.
 He glanced down at the herbs before realizing, looking at his recipe book,
they were extraneous.
Trish eventually grew curious to the smell of food cooking. He heard a loud
sigh next to him just as he tipped his head back to drink more red wine. He
turned his head curiously to see a rather unimpressed teenager.
 “It’s irresponsible to drink while cooking.”
 He smiled the tiniest bit.
 “Not it’s not. Julia Child drank all the time while cooking.” He downed that
last of it.
 “She knew what she was doing. And didn’t drink wine out of a coffee mug.”
 “It was the closest cup.” He sounded nearly downtrodden but had the slightest
bit of mirth in his eyes, amused by the banter.
 “I called for you earlier but you didn’t come out.” He was pouring himself
another mug.
 “Oh… Sorry I must have fallen asleep.” She sounded a tiny bit hesitant.
She sat down at the table while Diavolo pulled the plates out of the oven,
checking the temperature.
 “If mines a little cold it’s fine… it’s my own fault.”
 Trish avoided eye-contact but did seem rather… Amiable today. Perhaps this was
a new beginning for them.  
 “Want some?” Diavolo pulled out a wine glass while gesturing to her. She was
poking her food with her fork gingerly.
 “Dad, it’s illegal for me to drink alcohol.”
 “No it’s not. I’m your parent and I’m giving you this.”
 She sighed and met his eyes.
 “I’ll try a little.”
 “There’s the spirit.”
 He placed down the wine glass, which she thought he had given her rather much
for ‘a little’, and sat down  next to her. The house had come with an area for
a dining room that was currently dusty and uninhabited. Instead they tended to
eat at the kitchen islet.
 Diavolo tried to think of parental things to say.
 “How was school?”
 He looked up and noticed her finally grabbing a mouthful of food. She avoided
eye-contact and awkwardly chewed before finally muttering something.
 “What was that?”
 She sighed before saying more loudly, “It was all right.”
 He had officially run out of parental things to say. It was quiet, the kind of
quiet he recognized as what people normally consider ‘awkward’. She did look
rather uncomfortable now that he thought about it. He drank a big gulp from his
coffee mug.
 “Eugh.”
 Trish was covering her mouth, holding the wine at arm’s length away from her.
 “It’s an acquired taste.”
 “It tastes awful.” She placed the glass down gingerly.
 “I read red wine is supposed to go well with this cut of meat,” another gulp,
“I’m inclined to agree.”
 “Dad, you like any kind of alcohol.” Trish sighed a bit, rubbing the bridge of
her nose.
 “Point taken.” Oh, he needed more. Another refill.
 Trish sighed while spearing the asparagus and chewing thoughtfully. Another
quiet settled between them. She looked up at him and met his eyes. For some
reason, this triggered a hazy memory from the night before.
 “Did you remember to close the window in your bathroom?” He felt a little
insecure about his drinking and so only took a sip this time.
 Trish’s brows furrowed and for a moment she looked confused. Suddenly her eyes
shot open as she sputtered, “Oh- yeah. Yeah.”
 He couldn’t really tell from this lighting but she looked embarrassed. He felt
momentarily bad for bringing it up, he got the feeling that sort of thing was
difficult for most people and his ability to give 0 fucks was, in fact,
astounding. He decided to drop it.
 If it was awkward before, he didn’t have a word for this new tense silence.
 Perhaps he ought to give up conversing for today, he felt like he’d just made
an irreparable mistake on today’s social standing. He stood and walked to the
counter to wrap up his food.
 “You barely touched you food.”
 Trish sounded concerned.
 “I’m not really that hungry.”
 He placed his food in the fridge, the only thing missing being asparagus and a
chunk of steak. He walked back to the table to retrieve his mug, still full,
before walking to his office. He had to get the new chapter out before this
Saturday.
***** "What are you thinking?" "Not very much." *****
Chapter Summary
     Wine is sticky.
Diavolo found it difficult to become absorbed into his writing. He felt very…
distracted. The fight from last night was hanging on his mind. It wasn’t the
first time Trish had expressed so much rebellion, but it was the most scathing.
He wasn’t sure what he had done exactly. Perhaps she was mad at being awoken
late at night?
He felt weirdly guilty but confused by her quick apology and by her behavior
today. She was acting more kind to him than was normal, although it seemed
almost subtle. Maybe she was the one who felt guilty for the outburst? He
couldn’t really understand it, couldn’t understand her, and it weighed on him. 
He looked at his coffee mug still half full of red wine. How long had he been
writing? He checked his computer’s clock- it was 8 PM. He crinkled his nose. 
Smash! He jumped as his mind processed the noise. Glass shattering? But why? He
rushed out of his office and down the hall and into the kitchen. Trish was
standing looking rather surprised still, a large stain of red wine on her white
skirt, a wine flute shattered to pieces around her slipper covered feet.
“Are you all right?” Diavolo rushed in, taking in the situation, looking for
blood. 
Trish nodded as she carefully back stepped, glass crinkling as she ground it
into the floor under her slipper as she tried to maneuver around. Most of the
wine seemed to have fallen on her, there was very little on the floor.
“I was walking by and it caught on my arm…” She looked down as she finally
maneuvered away.
Diavolo sighed as he tried to remember where he put the broom.
“Don’t worry about it.” 
Diavolo met her glance.
“I can clean it up. I’m fine,” she insisted.
There was a pause.
“How much did that skirt cost? I’ll replace it.”
Trish blinked and looked down and seemed to only just realize the damage
herself. 
“Oh.”
“You should change. You’ll get sticky if you keep that on. I’ll clean this up,
you go change and clean up.”
Diavolo shook his head while Trish seemed to deliberate this. Finally Trish
nodded. Diavolo took that as agreement and took a bundle of paper towels and
knelt down to try and sop up the mess before taking out the broom. It was then
he felt an odd sensation on his head. Like something… Running through his hair.
Pausing he glanced up and nearly got an eye full of wine. 
Bringing his hand up he felt the top of his head.
He groaned quietly.
 He cleaned up the counter and floor as well as he could and quickly collected
the shards and trashed them. He checked for tiny pieces but couldn’t see any.
Sighing he walked down the hallway again. He bumped into Trish, who had a
change of clothes. He looked at the main bathroom and then at her.
 “Window open?”
 Trish nodded breathlessly.
 “What happened?”
 She gestured at his hair.
 “There was some wine on the counter. It dripped onto my head.”
 She nodded in understanding.
 “Well, I’ll use my bathroom then.” Diavolo began to walk past her.
 “Can you help me get clean?” It was quiet, he had barely heard it. Trish
looked embarrassed and wide-eyed.
 “Huh?”
 “It… It’s sort of on my back too.. I don’t know if I can get it all off.”
 Trish was looking down at the floor.
 “Just take a shower.”
 That didn’t seem to satisfy her.
 Wordlessly Trish grabbed his hand and pulled him past the bathroom and into
his own bedroom.
 “What are you doing?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as she opened the master
bath.
 “This bath is bigger. We can get clean at the same time.”
 He furrowed his brows.
 “I appreciate the sentiment but I’d rather not get arrested.”
 Trish looked back, surprised.
 “Imagine how bad it’d look if someone found I bathed with my teenage
daughter.”
 He offered in explanation. Her features relaxed then.
 “Oh… But… Everyone does this.”
 He paused to consider this.
 “Everyone?”
 Trish nodded with a blush, brushing pink hair back with one hand.
 “Yeah. It’s normal for families to bathe together. You won’t get arrested or
something, Dad.”
He considered this. If it was normal, it was probably expected of him. So to
deny this would be to deny familial ties, which would only put more strain on
their relationship. He couldn’t recall ever hearing of this sort of thing, but
then he didn’t exactly have much of a chance to learn about families.
 He let himself be dragged into the bathroom.
 Trish looked at him, then the floor, then the mirror, then the large bath
while twiddling her thumbs.
 “Can you make the bath go?”
 Diavolo nodded, turned the faucets and pulled the stopper to allow water to
rise. After adjusting the heat he looked at the other presence in the room
before quickly removing his gaze. Carefully, he looked again.
 She was bent over, pulling her panties and skirt down at the same time. Her
slippers were discarded by the sink along with her socks. Ah, so it had spread.
He could see sticky red on her skin, running down to her ankles. He could see
why it’d be difficult to get it off herself, now that he thought about it. She
righted herself and was unbuttoning her pink blouse. Sliding it down off her
shoulders she stole a glance back and caught her father looking.
 He merely blinked.
 She blushed furiously and threw her blouse to the ground.
 “Uhm…”
 “Hmm?”
 “Can you help… with my bra? The wires got warped in the washer so it gets kind
of stuck…”
 Wires? He didn’t really understand it. Rising from his place by the tub he
walked forward and investigated the piece of clothing at fault. It was pink and
lacy, with a nearly translucent feeling to it.
“The hooks are funny.” Is all he said as he pulled it apart with some admitted
difficulty. 
“Yeah…”
With that discarded she pushed herself closer, whether subconsciously or
consciously, before pulling away at the warm presence beneath his t-shirt, face
bright red.
“Why are you embarrassed?”
Trish sputtered a bit, “Well… I’m not… used to you as my dad yet.” 
Oh. So that was it. He checked the water level. It seemed high enough so he
shut it off. He didn’t notice her looking at him as he shrugged off his own
clothing and pulled the hairband out, tossing them all to the floor.
He began to step in. The bath was in fact rather large. Very large, he’d argue.
It was perhaps one of his biggest pleasures, a long relaxing hot bath. He
rarely found an excuse to spoil himself with one though.  So naturally when he
was house hunting, he was impressed by this one. It was large enough for
perhaps four people and quite a bit deep, with steps on each side to go in and
out. It easily covered up to his chest without him having to scrunch up, he was
rather tall after all. It was perhaps the one thing he spoilt himself most with
when purchasing this home. And yet he rarely even used this bathroom, living
mostly in his office.
Sighing, he sat and relaxed into the water and closed his eyes. Going under
briefly, he felt the water shift around him as Trish joined him, stepping over
him to go to the other corner.
“Uhm…” 
Diavolo rose from the water, pushing his hair back. He opened his eyes to be
greeted by the image of Trish bending over at the edge of the bath. 
“Can you help?”  She was looking back but not looking at him.
Grabbing a sponge and soap he rose and moved over, kneeling. He supposed he
should start from the source incase more dripped down. Gently, he reached out
and grabbed her hip with one hand to steady his aim and began rubbing her lower
back first. Trish bent over to allow more access, her kneeling legs spread to
allow him to more closer. He obliged, moving in the space she allotted, feeling
her legs on his under the water. Rubbing carefully he moved down, careful to
clean her bum well. He figured it was the most difficult spot to reach. He paid
no mind to the tiny sighing noise that fell from her lips as he moved down to
her legs.
Without event, he was done.
He retracted from his position as Trish moved down off the edge of the bathtub
and into the water all the way before slowly turning to look at him.
“Thanks.”
He nodded.
Before he could argue she had already grabbed the shampoo and was approaching
him.
“I can handle it.”
Trish blushed further, if that was possible and met his eyes.
“I know that. I want to help you since you helped me.”
He frowned a bit. This was becoming frustrating.
Sighing he allowed her closer to him and closed his eyes. He frowned further
when he felt her hands on his head, lathering the shampoo into his long hair.
The longer it went on however, the more he realized… This was actually nice. It
felt soothing in a way he couldn’t recall feeling before.
“Rinse,” she said quietly while tapping his shoulder.
He felt a tiny bit sad that she was done, actually. Nodding he retreated under
the water and back up again. To his surprise she rubbed through his hair. He
let it happen since it felt nice, but he couldn’t tell what she was doing. She
was getting more water with her hands and rubbing straight from the top down.
Finally, as it was taking a few minutes, he asked.
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure the soap is out.”
He hummed in acknowledgment. He wasn’t aware one needed to scrutinize so
closely for such things. It seemed she was done. She brought herself away from
him and gently moved to the corner, this time, next to him.
“No point in wasting a good bath.” She commented as she laid back. So there was
something they had in common.
“I couldn’t agree more.”  
 
===============================================================================
 
Hazily he opened his eyes. He must have fallen asleep in the bath. That was bad
for you, wasn’t it? What was it, it made you have nosebleeds? Well, it didn’t
matter. What did matter, however, was the pair of breasts in his face.
“Wha?”
He slowly tried to figure out what was going on. Before he could do that,
however, a hand was on the back of his head pushing him towards the right
breast, lips brushing the erect nipple there. It was soft, so soft, he
struggled to recall when he’d felt this last. Just about fifteen years ago. His
eyes closed as his mind swam. Perhaps he’d drank too much earlier, perhaps
baths did make blood go to your head, whatever it was, it led to him pulling
the nipple into his mouth and suckling gently.
His mind became more aware at the gasp and small moan coming from above him but
the hand pushed more insistently. He heard heavy breathing. He must be
dreaming, he decided. It had been years, over a decade, since he’d touched a
woman. Though it felt all too real, much too real as he threw his arms around
the woman above him and held her tightly, her body just as wet in the water as
his. Her skin was soft and his fingers felt tantalized by the muscles lying
underneath the smooth back. He nipped gently, pleased by the urgent moan that
it elicited.
Wait… Why was he… Where was he… He paused. The hand pushed him harder in place
but he moved away. He heard a soft sound of disappointment in a voice he
recognized. He opened his eyes and looked up.
“What the fuck?”
Trish was straddling his laying form, supporting herself on the wall behind the
bath. She looked down with desire, a blush running up her cheeks.
He tried to process this situation. It took awhile. A long, extremely awkward
minute passed. Finally, arriving at his conclusion, he opened his mouth.
“This isn’t normal is it?”
Trish shook her head while covering her face with her other hand.
He grabbed her thighs as she went to move away. He looked at the young woman
sitting on his lower half in a different light just then. His eyes looked up
and into hers as she looked at him curiously. Just then she looked down and
blushed, squirming but not leaving her position on him.
“Sit on the edge of the bath.” Was all he said as he let go of her legs.
She seemed frightened a bit, nervous, and ashamed. But mostly confused. She did
just that.
“Spread your legs.” He saw her gulp as she did so, looking him in the eye.
He moved forwards, having already decided how to fix this problem. He reached
out hesitantly at first, unsure how to go about this. Brushing his hands gently
on her crotch, he slowly brought both hands down and pulled the lips apart, to
a tiny gasp from Trish, to get a good look at her. She had a rather large clit
and her pussy was already wet, though the lubricant diluted due to the water.
Carefully he held her open with one hand and brought two fingers to her clit,
looking up at her face to judge a reaction as he rubbed gently.
The reaction was immediate, a hot moan pouring out and her hips bucking
forward. Growing more bold he brought his face closer before lapping at her
tumescence with his tongue, pleased by the urgent noise she let out. Running
circles around her clit elicited some particularly exciting reactions, a shiver
running through her as unconsciously moved her hips closer. She was breathing
so heavy and he’d barely even touched her. Moving to the side a bit he brought
a hand to her hole, gently pressing as he lapped softly, trying his best to
seem like this wasn’t an awkward position and that he knew what he was doing.
She squirmed with absolute want, looking down at him with glazed eyes. He took
the hand on his head as as yes so he pushed a finger into her.
Warm, wet, soft, squeezing… she felt good inside. She felt tight. He fingered
her slowly with one finger, unsure just what her experience was if any, as he
sucked on her clit softly. She cried out bucking her hips forward again,
shaking softly. Her back arched and she moaned again.
“M-more.”
Her voice was dripping with lust, want, and oh so deliciously full of sin. He
had never once even imagined her capable of such a voice, much less any of the
situation going on. Not that he particularly minded. As long as she wanted it
(and wouldn’t tell the police) he was more than happy to oblige a beautiful
young woman 
He added another finger and curled them inside her. She moaned louder yet. She
swore softly under her breath as Diavolo rubbed directly onto her clit with his
tongue before sucking just a little bit harder, fingers curled up and pumping
in and out of her-
Moaning uncontrollably she bucked up, body shaking as she came. Whimpering
softly as she rode out the sensations, she curled her hands into his hair.
Finally, her body went limp. He pulled away and looked up at her with a small
smile.
“Feel better?”
***** Ima Monster *****
Chapter Summary
     If anyone is going to jail, it's me for writing this.
“But what about…”
He looked over at her as he dried off.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll take care of it.”
“But you-”
“No.”
Putting on a bathrobe he went out the door. Trish quickly dried off and
followed.
“Go get dressed.”
She frowned at him.
“I want to make you feel good too.”
She looked angry, if he was being honest, but still his dick throbbed at the
words.
“It’ll be weird,” was his excuse.
“Like that wasn’t weird.”
She gave him a look.
He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
I’m going to jail. I can see the headlines now, “Crime Fiction writer Diavolo
arrested last Tuesday for statutory rape.”
“No.”
She hmph’d but for once throwing a fit wouldn’t get her what she wanted.
“Daddy…”
He opened his eyes, mildly disturbed by the more affectionate name. She was
looking at him with this sort of doe-eyed look he’d seen in magazines.
Unfortunately for her, that shit didn’t work on him.
“Can’t I at least just… suck you off or something?”
He gulped as he ignored the throbbing in his crotch.
“Where did you learn that?”
Trish was quiet.
“Have you done this before?” He placed a hand on his forehead, suddenly feeling
a migraine coming on.
“No...You’re… the first.”
Perverted, disgusting crime fiction writer arrested for cruelly snatching away
his daughter’s virginity, more news at 8.
“Trish… please. We’ll… we’ll talk about this later. Just…”
He sighed, visibly losing strength in his body.
“Just go.”
She frowned but seemed to realize she wouldn’t be getting her way. Looking
concerned over her shoulder, she grabbed her crumpled clothes from the bathroom
and walked out the door.
I’m going to jail I’m going to jail I’m going to jail I’m going to jail I’m
going to jail I’m going to jail I’m go
He sat down on the edge of his bed as the door closed behind her.
I’m going to jail I’m going to jail I’m going to jail I’m going to jai
He didn’t feel any particular shame for this. She had wanted it, desperately
so, and he didn’t feel as though he had broken any sort of moral code. But he
was quite aware of law and what was expected of him.
“But Officer, she wanted it!”  The writer reportedly said while being
handcuffed. Disgusting!
His life was ruined if she said anything. He covered his face with his hands as
he leant forward on his elbows. His entire career, life, home, everything is in
jeopardy.
***** Let Me Tell You a Story About One Motherfucker *****
Chapter Summary
     I go about things the wrong way, baby; ass backwards.
“I’m not gonna call the cops or something.”
He glanced up from his ‘morning coffee’.  She threw her backpack onto the
ground in the entryway, a paper bag in her hand.
“So you can stop giving me that look.”
He sipped the black coffee in thought.
“But you have the perfect ammunition if I piss you off.”
She glared.
“If you really think I’m that fucking petty than why the hell are you pissing
me off?”
He sipped.
“Point taken.”
He looked at the bag. It had lettering from a store he didn’t recognize the
name of.
“Replace your skirt?”
Trish pushed some hair behind her ears as she took off her shoes, baby pink
kitten heels with a bow on the back, refusing to look at him.
“Something like that.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“What else did you buy?”
She paused for a moment before busying herself with taking off her gloves and
coat.
“Sex stuff.”
“Excuse me?”
She blushed but just unbuttoned her long black coat.
“You know… Lube. Condoms… You don’t have that sort of thing so…”
Silence.
“I don’t know what you expect or want from me but you’re not going to get it.”
She looked up, confused by her father’s tone and comment. He sounded… Extremely
mad.
“I don’t want anything I just-”
“Do you want a car or something? You could just ask.” His eyes narrowed as he
leant on the wall by the entryway.
“You know what I want!” She shouted suddenly.
“You’re telling me you’re honestly attracted to-” His eyes caught hers. “Why
the hell are you?”
“I don’t know, all right?!” She stomped down a sock covered foot as she threw
her jacket on the floor. “You think I don’t ask myself that?!”
Diavolo’s brows furrowed, black eyes lost in thought. This situation was
confusing. But he did know a few things about the circumstances.
 
   1. It appears my daughter is heavily sexually attracted to me and
      surprisingly forward about it.
   2. She seems to be extremely insecure and angry due to her attraction.
   3. I just royally pissed her off.
 
“I’m sorry,” he tried to sound as earnest as possible.
“You’re… to me right?” She looked down at the ground, woven paper straps
shaking in her trembling grasp.
It took him a moment to figure out the context. He considered this.
“You’re a very beautiful and attractive young woman,” he stated finally.
A manicured hand grasped and rubbed her other arm. She carefully met his eyes.
“So… yes? You’re… attracted… to me?” He wasn’t sure if the look in her eyes was
‘hopeful’ or ‘wary’.
“...I’m not unattracted to you,” he stated carefully.
“But I make you hard,” she protested quietly.
“It’s not difficult to incite such a primal reaction,” he admitted.
He realized with the look she was giving him he’d need to be more
straightforward.
“I’m not particularly interested in anyone. I don’t like people like that.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Are you gay?”
He sighed.
“People frustrate and annoy me. A sexual relationship is far too much hassle
and far too difficult for what’s to be gained.”
She looked at him in disbelief.
“So you’re saying I piss you off and that I’m not good enough for you?”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Trish, I’m saying I’m not interested in a sexual relationship with anyone. The
reason why I assisted you earlier… I couldn’t just reject you, could I?”
“You’re lying,” her answer was so quick and full of anger he immediately
realized his wording was too blunt. “Assist? You gave me head, you didn’t
fucking hold my hand!”
In a fury, she stomped past him. He let out a breath.
I fucked up.
***** Non-Organic Excavator *****
Chapter Summary
     Vrrm vrrm.
If she was trying to piss him off she was succeeding. If she was trying to
seduce him, well, he couldn’t say she was failing. Judging by the buzzing noise
emanating from the other side of the right wall of his office,  she had also
purchased herself a vibrator earlier. And she certainly was not under any
circumstances being quiet about it. What the hell kind of store sells a fifteen
year old girl a vibrator?
“Fuck! Ohhh!”
Oh, stop fucking faking.
It seemed like it had been hours of nonstop vibrations and increasing moans,
Trish announcing every. single. orgasm.
And here he’d thought multiple orgasms were just made up in porn. Not that it
especially mattered, she was probably just acting. Really well. For a rather
long time.
Okay, so maybe his daughter had in fact just had her 20th orgasm or maybe not.
Whether she was faking or not, that was irrelevant. What was relevant was how
little of his chapter he had done and how he needed it done in four days if he
wanted to keep on schedule.
He imagined her laying on her stomach watching YouTube on her laptop, vibrator
nestled between the pillow and the bed casing, moaning with a blank face. Yes,
that was more likely. She just wanted a reaction. He wouldn’t give it to her.
Nope. No way. He was just going to ignore this until she stopped. There was no
way in hell he-
“Oh fuck… Daddy! Fuck… please I’m cum- I’m cumming!” A loud whine followed by a
desperate whimper.
Silence. Jesus fucking Christ, he can’t handle this shit.
***** I'm a Classy, Huggy, Lovey-Dovey, Kissy, Ghetto Princess *****
Chapter Summary
     Cause he's filthy and she's gorgeous.
“At least tell me why.”
Trish looked up from her textbook.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she scoffed and rolled her eyes.
He really didn’t have the patience for her sarcasm right now but tried his best
to hold his ground, crossing his arms over his chest and standing straight.
“I just want to know why.”
Trish looked down at her textbook again. It was quiet for what seemed forever
before she quietly began speaking.
“Well… It’s just… You’re really handsome… And have a deep voice… And I like
your tattoo… And… I don’t know, all right?” Her face was bright red as she
stared a hole into the book.
“How long has this been going on?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. A few months?” She looked on the verge of
tears. “You’re not going to put me in therapy are you?”
Diavolo raised his eyebrows at that.
“Why the hell would I trust some stranger with something like this?”
“Because I’m broken,” she sniffled as a her voice cracked, holding her hands in
face.
“You’re not broken.”
He gulped. She was going to cry if he didn’t do something. He couldn’t handle
her crying. Carefully he walked behind her chair and bent down to hug her from
behind, resting his head on her shoulder.
“I’m the who’s broken,” he whispered softly into her ear. “I’m the one who
hasn’t left this place in months… You’re just a girl who’s confused.” She
sniffled and nodded before leaning her head on his.
She felt warm and soft. He could feel her warmth lingering below the polyester
dress, could smell the top-notes of chamomile on her neck. Now that he thought
about it, had he ever hugged her? He couldn’t remember doing so. Realizing his
mistake he tightened his embrace, nuzzling against her neck.
She pulled away a bit, turning to face him, and their eyes met briefly as they
both paused. He didn’t move away when she moved in slowly, hesitantly, her hand
searching for his. Their hands found one another, entwining as their lips met,
both of them staring each other in the eye. Trish pulled away a bit and visibly
prepared herself as she shot back in, eyes closed, her other arm wrapping
around his neck.
Diavolo closed his eyes and tried to remember how this was done. It felt nice,
but not sexual. Her lips were incredibly soft, rubbing on his own as he tried
to mimic her motions. He supposed he had just given this permission to continue
but he was slowly finding it more and more difficult to resist. Something like
this was innocent enough, anyway.
She backed away for air and opened her eyes. She looked flushed. Pushing her
textbook away, she stood and pulled him by the t-shirt collar to sit in the
chair. He looked at her curiously for a minute before obliging her. Immediately
she climbed onto his lap, straddling him. The presence of her legs on his
sides, her weight on his lap, her chest pushed against his… It was addicting.
He had forgotten just how comforting skinship was.
Trish was looking into his eyes, seemingly imploring him, as her hand cupped
the side of his face. She brought up one hand to graze her long nails on the
side of his neck, watching her father’s face intently. At the slight increase
in breathing she smiled a bit. She reached round the back of his head, leaning
on him, taking firm grasp at the root of his hair. Carefully, she slowly tilted
his head.
He wasn’t sure what to do and aside from that, she seemed intent on exploring.
This was about fulfilling her needs in the end anyway, he had no particular
urges along these lines. He masturbated, but rarely. He found consuming
pornography terribly dull and had so little urges he rarely felt the need to
relieve himself. It seemed his daughter was the exact opposite of him sexually.
He gasped softly at the feeling of her lips on his neck. He’d be lying if he
said he’d experienced this before. If he was to be perfectly honest he’s only
had sex twice, a rather unlucky second time he had thought at the time. He had
never explored anything beyond mount and fuck followed by apologetic oral.
He moaned softly at the wet feeling on his neck as she sucked softly then ran
her tongue over the spot, teeth grazing the skin.
“You’re kind of cute, Dad,” she mumbled affectionately as she nipped higher.
“Th-thanks,” he breathed in through his teeth as she sucked hard under his ear.
He closed his eyes as he rode out the increasing pleasurable pain, groaning as
she sunk in her teeth just barely. Finally she retracted and breathed hotly on
his ear, biting ever so softly on the lobe.
“Christ… Where’d you learn this?”  He ran his hands that had been on her hips
up her sides in appreciation.
“Instinct,” she muttered huskily.
“You sure as hell didn’t get that from me,” he mumbled in pleasure as she
pulled his hair harder to get more access. She laughed into the soft kisses she
ran down his neck. She then pulled his head straight back so she could mouth
over his throat, kissing his Adam’s apple as he shivered under her touch. His
eyes fluttered open as she maneuvered herself, pulling on leg down while
pushing on Diavolo’s knee.
He followed her push to allow his legs open, looking down to watch her as she
straddled on his left leg, leaning her head on his chest. He felt her
breathing, her hot breath through the thin cotton.  Pink eyes flicked up to
black ones. Then she looked down at his baggy jeans before reaching down, gaze
slowly returning to his. He saw her gulp, breathing heavily as she looked up
from his chest.
Diavolo let out a needy groan at the contact of her hand, gently palming at the
growing bulge.
“Is… this all right?” She bit her lip.
“Yeah…” He answered breathlessly, surprised at how much his body was responding
to her touch.
She unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped them. She gulped again. She looked at him
once more before down, biting her lip harder and her brows furrowing. She
started by rubbing him through the thinner cloth of his briefs, momentarily
breathless at the heat on her fingers. She seemed visibly startled when she
felt him throb under her fingertips. She licked her lips as her eyes snapped up
to his.
“See? I think you like me after all,” She smiled as she increased pressure to
rub her palm on his shaft.
It’s not like he could deny it in this state.
“Your actions…” He swallowed as he looked down at the manicured hand rubbing on
his crotch, “Are certainly extremely irresistible.”
She laughed a little.
“So you’re saying I’m irresistible now, Daddy?”
He felt her other hand running under his t-shirt and up his back as he looked
up at her lustful gaze.
“That description fits you quite well.”
She stopped palming his dick in favor of pulling up his shirt. He took over and
removed it as soon as he realized the intention. He couldn’t help but shiver
from the way she looked at his chest, a hand running appreciatively over his
stomach.
“You’re too eloquent…” She began softly, finger-tips tracing along the tattoo
on his arm, marveling at the muscles, “I’ll know I’m doing well when you can’t
speak anymore… Right?”
He laughed a bit, “You intend to leave me speechless?”
She didn’t laugh and seemed almost serious when she responded slowly, “I’ll
make you attracted to me.”
He felt a twinge of guilt as she looked him in the eye, her hands roaming his
chest.
“How do you stay so buff anyway?”
He shrugged noncommittally, “Genetics,” he guessed.
“But you’re like old…” She placed both hands on his pecs, pushing curiously on
the flesh, pleased by the latent strength under soft skin.
“Trish, I’m only 34.”
She snickered a bit.
“That’s really old.”
He sighed a bit at the smile she gave him that said ‘I love pissing you off’.
He decided to drop the issue.
He shuddered at the fingers curiously tracing over one of his nipples.
“Does it feel good here too?”
“Apparently,” was all he could muster and she pinched gently, rolling the nub
in his fingers.
“You sound like a dog,” she commented, squeezing a bit more before bringing her
other arm up to drape over to his over nipple and do the same thing.
“Ha…. A… dog?” He sucked in breath as a quiet moan tried to break out, hips
moving up against his will as he arched into her touch.
“You’re panting,” she laughed to herself before leaning in and sucking on one
of his nipples.
“Fuck…” His hands were all over her, running up and down her back, her ass, her
hips, legs, everywhere. He wanted more, wanted her to know how good this felt,
almost feeling spoilt by all of the attention on him.
“You going to drool too?” She teased quietly as she pulled away slightly.
Her hand was down there again and god did it feel good. He felt her pull his
dick out of from his briefs, moaning immediately at the direct contact. He bit
his lip as he looked at her hand that up at her just before she closed back in
on chest and began sucking.
She grabbed her lightly, too lightly, and carefully spread the precum on the
head on his prick as she rubbed slowly. Her motions were unsure, fair to loose,
but more than enough to send her father spiraling quickly into euphoria.
“Oh god… Trish…” He bucked up into her hand, arching his back, holding her
closely with one arm while the other snaked up under her dress and onto her
thigh. She looked up without moving from his chest and he swore he could feel
her smile and she bit down softly.
He held her tighter and realized the flesh he was rubbing was her ass, and
realized just how good it felt in his hand.
She pumped her hand up and down a little tighter, just enough, and scraped her
teeth as she sucked hard.
“Trish… Oh fuck me, I’m…”
Breathless he mouthed wordlessly as both hands ran up her body to hold her head
to his chest, desperately holding onto her hair as he bucked into her
ministrations.
Finally with a deep groan his body froze, tense, shaking as he tried to breathe
but only could pant with want. A soft noise escaped his throat as his body went
limp in the chair, the grip on Trish loosening finally.
“See?”
He looked at her curiously.
“I told you I’d make you speechless.”
He nodded, admitting defeat. His eyes caught the clash of white on black.
“Your dress…”
“It’s fine. I can get a new one or something…” She looked kind of grossed out
by it but wasn’t making a big scene.
“Mmm, okay, I need a shower,” she explained as she climbed off of him.
He mumbled.
“Did you leave your window open?”
Trish looked at him with an annoyed expression.
“If you start using that as a codeword for oral I swear to God.”
He couldn’t help but smile.
***** The Problem With You is You've Got Problems *****
Chapter Summary
     Welcome to the Human Race.
“You sure you don’t need me?” He asked as she began walking away.
“No.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“It’d be weird,” she joked softly.
He hummed in response.
“Like your vibrator more than me?”
Her face turned red as she pulled up her dress.
“No,” she replied muffled under the layers as she shrugged it off, “I just want
you to know what it feels like. I bet you feel really guilty, right?”
“You’re making a lot of assumptions here.”
She put her dress on the table. It wasn’t as if he could dry-clean it, imagine
what people would say. No, it’d have to be disposed of if the stain didn’t come
out in the normal wash, he decided.
“Steep in your guilt,” she demanded jokingly as she walked down the hall to her
room.
Her leggings made her look taller, he decided as he watched her underwear clad
form walk away.
He sighed as he realized he too needed a shower and this time it seemed she
wanted privacy.
***** Some Girls Want to Hold Your Hand, Some Girls Want to Pray *****
Chapter Summary
     TV time.
Journalist Doppio, ever courageous and loyal, is returning once more as Diavolo
announces the fifth sequel to his journalism crime series. The series follows
the young bushy-tailed journalist as he’s dragged into difficult situations
involving grisly murder. It’s been announced the fifth book will be called,
“Dark Alleys,” where the starring main has aged to 23 years old--
“Hey!” Trish shot up from the couch.
“I was watching that!” She turned to glare at the man in the archway to the
living room.
“It’s midnight and you have school tomorrow.”
“You can’t act like a parent only when you remember to,” she protested with her
arms crossed. She was curled up on the long couch, long white socks up to her
thighs visible under her short dress.
“I’m trying to be more consistent,” he offered before walking over to the couch
and sitting by her.
“Did you wear that today?” He asked, gesturing at the purple cloth that seemed
very short to him. He could even see hints of her white panties from how she
was sitting.
“Yeah? Why?” Her arms were crossed as she reached over to wrestle the remote
from him.
He held it high over his head.
“It looks cold.”
Trish looked down.
“Oh, this is polyester and these stockings are wool,” she pulled his free hand
to touch the crumpled up stockings. They felt like a mix of wool and cotton, if
he were to be honest, but if she was warm he supposed it was fine. He knew the
coat in the entryway had gloves in the pockets as well, so he supposed he
didn’t need to press the issue.
“It seems like a lot of effort,” was finally what he said, eyes running up and
down her outfit. She wore makeup, little pearl earrings, two white bracelets,
her little purple dress that was v-cut and a big bow on the front, an
undershirt below that, the white stockings and knowing her, probably kittens
heels. She put a lot of effort into her appearance, which was a stark contrast
to Diavolo’s utter apathy. He suddenly felt the presence of years of being too
lazy to cut his hair weighing on his head. His eyes were caught by the
manicured hand- baby pink, she had gone to the salon and had them changed
today- then shooted up along with the rest of her body as she snatched away the
remote control.
Laughing, she laid down on his lap, head on his legs, and turned the TV back
on.
Do you want to remove stress from your life-
She switched the channel angrily.
“I missed it ‘cause of you. Your book stuff only comes on late ‘cause it’s
gross,” she muttered trying to sound upset but she actually sounded rather
comfortable.
“Is it weird having to get taxis everywhere?”
He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to ask. He had thought about it once or
twice before, how normal kids her age tend to walk to school or ride a school
bus. Or even have their own car- well that would be for when she’s sixteen.
Should he buy her driver’s ed? He tried to remember how to drive. It seemed
very foreign and long gone. No, he’d need to pay for driver’s ed, certainly.
“It makes me feel special,” she responded honestly, while staring at the TV but
not really watching, one hand dangling down and lightly rubbing on the front of
his leg. “Like, everyone else has to do it themselves, but I get to say ‘Oh, my
dad pays for my credit card so I can go anywhere!’ People get so jealous… I
like it.”
He looked down at her, one of his hands gently rubbing through her hair.
“I’m glad it doesn’t bother you,” was all he managed despite feeling very oddly
pleased with what she said.
He was glad it didn’t bother her since it was actually a necessity. The house
was located miles outside of the city and it wasn’t as if the school bus even
came here. If he didn’t give her free reign of taxi services, he imagined she’d
be even more miserable. Or maybe ‘miserable’ wasn’t as correct as it once was.
She seemed much calmer now, for whatever reason. Her credit card was prepaid
could run up at 1000 dollars, however he only paid 500 on it a month, so she
had to use it wisely. He remembered the bill from last month. It was always
only taxi charges and manicures, with the occasional clothes shopping. She
never spent very much, surprisingly, despite her rather well-maintained
appearance. Even still, he felt glad he had paid off this house 5 years prior.
Taking care of a beautiful daughter certainly took a lot out of your bank
account.
He still had large royalty sums rolling in from his last two books but he
fretted what would happen if he slacked off. That was why last night he had
quickly vomited out five chapters. The editors will pick up any continuity
errors anyway. Now that he thought about it, how the hell he managed to become
famous under his alias escaped him. All he did was write about his fantasies,
his inner world.
“Dad,” Trish began while gesturing quietly at the TV that he was blocking out
entirely. “Do you have any hobbies besides writing?”
He considered this.
“No. I don’t.”
She adjusted herself and snuggled into his thigh, “Maybe you should get into
like… I don’t know, gaming?” she offered.
“Gaming?” He thought of table-top RPG games, which while intriguing, didn’t do
much to stimulate him.
“You know like… Shooting the other team, saving the princess, breaking through
enemy forces. It’s fun.”
He raised an eyebrow.
She gestured at the glowing box in front of the TV.
“I have a lot of two-player games but no one to play with,” she admitted
finally. Ah, her game console. She did seem rather enamored with it, now that
he thought about it. He couldn’t particularly understand it.
“It’s sort of like… Reading a book but you can change it and interact with it.
You’d like it,” she offered quietly.
“I’m not big on reading,” he answered softly.
“What are you big on?” She asked.
He considered this for a long time.
“I like cooking shows.”
She snorted.
“Are you serious?”
He rubbed behind her ear gently.
“They’re calming and I feel like I’m gaining something from consuming them.”
“Consuming information to consume good food?” She offered.
“Something like that.”
“You only like them ‘cause they have lots of cocktail recipes,” she joked.
“And when have you seen me drink a cocktail?” He stifled a laugh.
“I dunno, maybe you drink girly stuff when I’m not looking,” she snickered more
to herself than him. She was quiet for a little bit while her amusement ran its
course. “So what do you do when you’re not writing but not doing that? Staring
at a wall?”
He was in thought for a minute. Then a minute longer.
“I’m thinking about writing whenever I’m not writing,” he finally concluded.
“You’re so boring.”
“Sorry,” he laughed a bit as his fingers combed through the pink strands.
“The only things I ever see you do is write and drink,” her voice was soft.
“I have trouble with…” he struggled for words, “Being interested in things.
Most everything is boring.”
“I can tell. You don’t even have any movies,” she replied, her voice sounding
tired.
“You should go to bed,” he insisted quietly with the back of his hand grazing
her neck.
“I’m not tired,” she protested quietly while leaning her head to the side,
exposing more of her neck.
“If I’m a dog then I think you’re a cat,” he commented quietly before tracing
his fingers on her neck. He was still amazed at how soft her skin felt. He
marveled at the pulse underlying warm flesh, her soft breathing, the cute way
she was curled up on the couch.
“Hmm? You want me to purr or something?”
He was reminded of one of the particularly low, long groans he had heard come
from her room a few nights ago.
“I wouldn’t be against it,” he admitted.
She sat up and turned around, back to the armrest before stretching out her
legs playfully.
“Get on top of me and I’ll purr for you,” she mumbled in a low voice, eyes
flashing suggestively.
The comment shot straight to his groin for reasons he didn’t entirely
understand.
Before he was able to process what he was doing his mouth was on hers, Trish
giggling into the kiss as she wrapped her legs around his hips. He pulled away,
breathing hard as she wriggled her hips up and onto his own. His heart very
nearly stopped at the sensation, her warmth, her voice purring gently as she
ran her hands up his chest.
“Good boy,” she whispered before running her tongue on his lower lip, eyes
flicking up to meet him when she bit just slightly. She pushed her hips down
again and, gods, he couldn’t stop himself from rubbing back. He thought he
could cum in his pants from the excited moan she made at the contact.
With one arm propping him up, he ran his hand up her thighs, running underneath
her dress. Happily, she smiled and arched her back, hands over her head as he
pulled the cloth off of her.
Tossing it to the side he found himself laying on her, running his hands all
over her breasts, barely covered by the lacy bra, “You’re certainly bossy,” he
commented playfully, laying a kiss on her collarbone as she squirmed in joy,
“How long have you imagined me doing this to you?” He breathed out, fingers
hooking on the top of the cloth, heaving it down to expose the flesh to him.
Trish responded by rubbing her hips insistently, chest arched, mouth open in a
silent moan, eyes half lidded and full of desire.
“Do you think we’re gross?”
This wasn’t the kind of question he wanted to answer when his hands were full
of her still developing tits. God, they were so soft.
“Probably,” was all he said as he rubbed her, reveling in how wonderful she
felt here, in how wonderful it seemed to make her feel.
“Do you think we’re broken?”
His fingertips moved in circles around her already erect nipples, breaths
coming in heavy and slow.
“Definitely.”
Wordlessly he wrapped his mouth around her nipple, kissing and licking softly.
He groaned softly as her breathing quickened, and a strangled whimper rose from
her throat as she grazed her long nails on the small of his back, snaking under
the t-shirt.
With deliberation he stopped rubbing her other breast, sliding down over her
taut tummy, fingers catching on hem of her panties. She seemed thrilled by this
development, moaning and arching. He was hyper-aware of her, of the wool on his
sides, as his hand ran along her slit. Further down,he poked carefully, letting
one a soft groan at the realization of just how wet she was. Nipping gently on
her nipple he began pushing into her with two fingers.
Her body easily accommodated them, clenching around the digits. He placed his
thumb on her clit and rubbed softly back and forth, curling his fingers inside
her. He sucked harder when she moaned loudly, brows furrowed, confused by all
the stimulation.
“What are you…?”
He drew his face up, sucking hard, her breast being lifted by suction alone.
She gasped with a groan, surprised by the sublime pain before he let go with a
smack as suction released. His eyes met hers as he ran his lips gently on her
nipple, Trish gasping from how sensitive it was, as he said slowly against her
skin, “Just relax.”
She bucked her hips up into his touch with a loud watery moan. He could feel
her clit twitching under his touch, could feel her insides spasming desperately
as he rubbed hard on the inner walls of her hole.
“O-oh, oh god, fuck, Daddy…” Her hands wrapped around his head, curling in his
hair firmly as she bucked into his touch unconsciously, a whimpering gasp fell
from her lips. He could feel her legs shaking, her grip on him getting tighter.
Lapping at her nipple he rubbed harder, cock throbbing at the noises she was
making, how fucking wet she was, how she was squirming desperately into his
touch.
“Fuck, Trish…” He found himself slipping his other hand into his sweatpants,
groaning as he wrapped a hand around himself. Grinding on her thigh he rubbed
fast, squeezing, barely noticing her yell. He felt something hot and wet squirt
into his hand as he lost himself, groaning Trish’s name as she rode out her
orgasm on his fingers.
He opened his eyes finally, listening to her deep breathing as he removed his
hand from her panties carefully, looking curiously at the bodily fluids coating
him before wiping his hand on his pants.
“It’s messier than I thought it would be,” Trish mumbled quietly, looking down.
“The more primal a desire, the more disgusting,” he stated quietly as he leant
upon his knees, readjusting his pants.
“I trust you’ll go to bed now?”
Trish frowned.
Diavolo sighed.
“I want to sleep in your bed.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“If it means you’ll sleep I’m satisfied,” he replied easily, gently pulling
away from her and moving to stand.
“I want to sleep with you.”
He looked at her with a confused expression.
“You’re not satisfied?”
She shook her head exasperated as she pulled her bra back into proper place.
“I want to cuddle with you, silly.”
“Oh,” he mumbled, “Well I am ahead of schedule…”
She excitedly sprang up and grabbed his hand, pulling him into the kitchen and
down the hallway.
He noticed one legging had rolled down to her calf while the other was on her
upper thigh, dark with moisture.
 
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