#That's kinda fucking dark though holy shit

[irbcallmefynn]

Bit of a simple one here. Nauno simply spying a new target. Didn't spend all too long on it.

Yesterday I looked up if Avali could eat chocolate (did not find my answer btw) and noticed that planets in the habitable zone for humans would be unbearably hot for Avali. So it's time for me to bullshit an explanation for why Nauno isn't miserable or outright dead that will probably contradict things I've said or drawn before!

The temperature where Fynn Nauno and Euphi live is quite variable. In the winter it can get bitterly cold, and Nauno is all over that. Sometimes they might bring an icepack with them if it's a bit warmer out, like seen above. More often than not though, Nauno is completely fine in the winter.

In the summer? Forget it. This guy is not going anywhere in the summer. The AC in his room is very very strong (thanks to a little demon magic from Fynn), so it's basically a refrigerator in there (Fynn can't even walk in there without feeling sick). Fynn (with some help from Euphi) "borrowed" some chemistry equipment from a nearby school and use it to make their own dry ice. They then make "Dry Ice Packs" for Nauno, which help a lot! It's at least enough for him to go out and get lunch with Fynn during the summer.

For Fynn it's basically the opposite. Loves the summer, can't go outside during the winter. One time when visiting his mom (which he does every couple of years) he picked up a few loose stones from Hell and keeps them in his pockets during the winter. So at least his hands are nice and warm, so he won't collapse from the cold. He'll just be super uncomfortable.

Euphi doesn't really care much about the temperature. It's precipitation that bothers heart. Euphi can't walk outside at all without an umbrella if it's raining or snowing. It's not going to kill heart, but it is extremely unpleasant and painful (basically imagine sweating into an open wound. Not very pleasant is it?)

[pan0ramy]

so

i'm officially into alan wake now

[justtogetthrough]

In the context of the past 3 weeks, today actually wasn't horrible. I had time mid day to even lie down for half an hour.

The meeting we had at 1:30 was productive and I had a good call with the agency after it. There was only a little 🤏 bit of crisis today (for me, not the family who had the kid take off again and had to call the cops on and it took them 3 hours to find her lol).

Tomorrow is going to be extremely stressful and if I don't hear back from someone we're going to definitely be in crisis with a kid having nowhere to go.

There's something in the air these days, I swear. Everyone is off their rocker.

[evilminji]

You know all those Cults in Gotham?

Bet at least ONE of them could spring for both a Legit Magic User and a Cloning pod.

Because The Wayne's? Hearts of Gold. Long standing pains in the asses. Probably the only thing standing between this gods forsaken wasteland of a city and Their Dark Lord. For GENERATIONS no less!

It's sooooo obnoxious!

So they want to Curse Um dead. Just a good ol fashioned bloodline curse. Destroy um from within, etc. BUT! To do THAT? You kinda need a blood relative to sacrifice!

And Bruce is... well... rather infamously An Orphan With No Biological Kids (at that point).

So? What do you do? Make one, obviously. You send in some of your own on a Holy Mission. Honeypot that playboy! Get us a kid to sacrifice! Our God will reward you etc! But... FFS! What? Are brunettes not your TYPE or something?! Pretty lady! Throwing herself at you!!

TAKE THE BAIT!

But he DOESN'T. Because he's both really used to that behavior, as The Wayne Heir and a False Playboy, AND because? He's fuckin Batman. He can see through your schemes.

Okay.

Okay!

Plan B!

Get us some DNA. We'll CLONE the sucker. That should be doable, right?

........OH COME ON! How?!

Batman: [REDACTED] / Cultists: 0

Fuck it! This is impossible! How are we supposed too... *eyes drift over to the Wayne Family Private Graveyard* .......Idea? Ideeeeaaaa~! Someone get us a shovel!

So they, cultist bastards that they are? Fuckin rob a grave for some DNA.

OBVIOUSLY though, it can't be one of the more RECENT graves! He probably VISITS those! Watches them! No we gotta be SNEAKY! Get one a bit further back! Mwahahahaha! We're so brilliant! Our God is gonna give us SUCH a Good Grade in follower!

A thing that is both REAL and possible to achieve!

So, while a Weirdly FURIOUS Batman? Is just... VIOLENTLY breaking ALL of their bones? Cultist 17 is furiously digging like his life depends on it. Either somebody snitched or Batman was hunting them down! Either way?

Gotta! Get! That! DNA!!! *digs faster*

Ah HA! Got it!

Fucking SCATTER! Run you fools, RUN!!! *everyone bolts*

And AT LAST! They have it! Wayne DNA! Now? Pop that sucker into the machine and make us a baby! Too sacrifice! *relieved noises* Man, that was hard work you guys. But we DID it!

Except??

Theoretical Babies? And "Real, slowly forming in front of me and becoming a human child" type babies? VERY DIFFERENT psychologically. It's ONE thing to sacrifice a HYPOTHETICAL baby... but when you're the guy running and monitoring the Cloning machine? Watching it slowly form and come together into... into a CHILD?

You start asking questions of yourself. Of God.

Of what, EXACTLY, you are willing to do.

What lines you find yourself unwilling to cross.

And yeah, your life was SHIT before the cult. Yeah, you were alone. Adrift. Without purpose. Angry at the world for all of its ugliness and failings. But... sitting, alone, in a dark room? Nothing but the steady hum of machines and the cool light of that pod? You are left with nothing but time... and your thoughts.

And the baby.

The one... the one YOU made.

Almost... he's almost like a son, in a way. Your son. Floating there, innocent and unknowing. Destined to be born, only to die painfully, for a cause he could not even begin to understand. Because he's too young. Too small. Just... just a baby.

The baby YOU made.

Doubt seeps in like mist. Creeping into the cracks forming in your faith. Surely there's another way, right? Why not save up for a better magician? Or... or hire a hitman? Why involve a child? Surely... surely your God would not WANT this, right? Or if He did! Surely, he would want the boy to be able to CHOOSE, right? A noble sacrifice, for the cause?

The pressure builds. Batman is tearing the city APART looking for your fellow Believers. Leadership is pressuring you to get "It" ready all ready.

He's not an "it".

They are dismissing your questions. Threatening and posturing, as you grapple with your faith. Where? Where is the COMMUNITY that you joined? The camaraderie? Every day, Believers are being torn down. The faith has lost so many!

How can this be WORTH it?

Your faith is slowly, cruelly, strangled in your chest. A death, by ten thousand silences, and ten thousand more cruelties.

Your son is ready.

You do not tell them.

The Clone of Bruce Wayne's great-grandfather is small, but healthy, in your arms. A tiny warm body, with a strong beating little heart. You call the police. Leave your phone, call running, on the desk. No one thinks to stop you, as you calmly walk out the back door.

Why would they doubt?

You are Faithful.

You drive. Pray to a God you have lost faith in, beg forgiveness for what you do now. Your beat up old junker of a car makes decent time, as you leave Gotham. Your son, asleep in a carefully made nest of blankets, on the seat next to you. You drive. You keep driving.

Past towns.

Past cities.

Out of the state.

Stopping only to feed your son and fuel your car. You... you can not bring yourself to care about what will happen to you now. You know they will find you. Know this is the end. But something ancient burns in your chest. A caring you never thought was REAL.

You are afraid.

But you will not let them harm your son.

Finally, a town. Far from Gotham. Quite and cheerful. It calls to you.

Here. It... it has to be here.

You find the hospital. Tears choking you. There is a place to drop of children. You've seen them before. How strange, that now you stand before it and HURT. Your arms not listening to your command. You... you have to do this. You HAVE too.

He is just a baby.

He is your son.

You have to keep him safe. And... and that can not be with you.

You gently put your baby boy into the drop off. Press the buzzer. And then? You make yourself walk away.

Get back in your car, and drive. The gun in your glove box will insure they can never pry from you, what you have done. Where he is. He is safe now. He has to be. You... you did your job. As his father. You made sure he was safe.

You can barely see the road, through your tears.

You take your secrets to the grave.

And Danny? He grows up. Is adopted young and never knows different. Both a Fenton and a Wayne. Knowing only one of these, to be his. But... that Wayne? Was a damn fine man. A pillar of his community and a champion of the people.

Got tossed more then a few blessings, in his life.

They weren't the STRONGEST. But they added up. And more importantly? Were hardly the refined magics of the more powerful. They were cast onto "Him". By blood and bone, more often then not. Which was all well and good!

When there was only ONE of "Him".

Cloning technology did not exsist. So why would you word carefully against it? Danny becomes a VERY lucky boy. Survives many things he should not. In fact, the kindness and hard work of his original? Gifted back in magically powered well wishes? By this, he survives something NO ONE could possibly expect him too.

It saves his life.

His template would be quite pleased, knowing that. That his life of good deeds, saved the life of the child he never got a chance to meet. That it protected his children, from even beyond death.

And in Gotham? At long, long last. The program Bruce made in his helplessness and despair, to search EVERY child until the child made of his bloodline was found? Spits out a match.

A Watchtower engineer.

Daniel J. Fenton.

@hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation

[mimasroom2]

Love on top! ✧～(ゝᴗ ∂ )

Dealer!ellie x reader @ the mall

I’ve been thinking ab how Ellie would be a dealer and has some extra money to spoil her princess ♡

C/w: Not really any? Homophobia mentioned in like one sentence. Kinda suggestive but no smut. Sex toy mentioned like once. Marijuana mentioned like once (at the end). DINA MENTION FUCK YEAHHHH!!!!

W/c: 1k. sorry i just have a lot of thoughts😭

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

- Dealer!ellie who takes you to the mall whenever she feels like it. You never ask because you feel bad for her always spending money on you, but she lovesssssssss to do it.

- She would def buy you guys matching stuff.

- “Holy shit y/n… look at these!” Ellie turns around and has matching Sanrio plushies in both hands. You laugh bc she has them raised like how straight men pose with the fish they catch😭

- “Which one do you want, baby?”

- You pretend to think even though your absolute fav is cinnamoroll.

- She pumps a fist in the air, “FUCK YEAH I wanted pompompurin anyway!”

- She’d walk into any store and buy you guys those goofy ass tshirts that say shit like “I ♡ hot moms” because she gets a kick out of it every time.

- Don’t even get me started on how she’d be in Victoria’s Secret…

- She’d walk behind you with her hands in her pockets, biting her lip as you pick up the most absurdly hot set of bra & panties she’s ever seen.

- When you wanted to try everything on, she’d slip into the dressing room with you so you can have your turn spoiling her by giving her a little show

(˶ > �� < ˶)♡

- “Turn ‘round f’me, doll.” You always love how slurred her words get when she’s turned on 🙃 You do what you’re told and do a little twirl. She blushes and grabs your waist from behind, kissing your neck as you giggle looking at the two of you in the mirror.

- “Shit, baby. Gon’ have to buy this all for you so you can waltz around in pretty lingerie all the time.”

- As the two of you leave, she discreetly whispers in your ear “Gonna have to try those panties on for me tonight, mkay?”

- You’d wander into pandora or some fancy jewelry store and she’d be eyeing all the things you look at.

- “Ohmygodddd Ellieeeeee look at how beautiful this necklace is ahhhh!!” You squeal and eagerly point at it.

- “Hey babe, can you get us some auntie annes please?” Ellie smiles at you, “Need me some lemonade from how hot it is today.”

- As you walk away she stealthily buys the necklace you wanted :3. Chatting it up with the salesman n shit, bragging about you and how amazing of a girlfriend you are.

- She’s not afraid to do this bc she knows any homophobia she encounters she can shut down super quick. Perks of being hot and cool😍

- When you finally meet back up with her you’re smiling about the yummy pretzels you got, but your jaw drops when you see the pandora logo bag in her hand.

- You run over to her, “whattttt the fuckkkk Ellie? :0?”

- “Saw my pretty girl looking at it, so I jus’ had to see my pretty girl wearing it.” Is all she has to say in response (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭

- You gasp as she takes it out of the box, “For me?,!?,?,?!! Els, I told you, I don’t need any fancy stuff.”

- “Jus’ accept it, y/n. I like seein’ my princess happy.” She smiles as she puts it on for you :3

- You both sit down and DEVOUR those damn pretzels.

- (I’ve had this song stuck in my head the entire time writing this) The song Love On Top by Beyoncé starts playing, Ellie flashes you a wicked grin and takes your hands to stand the two of you up. The part that goes “You’re the one I love! You’re the one I need!” plays and she starts jumping around, moving your arms and giggling, not afraid to act like a goofball as long as it’s with you :,)

- If she saw anyone checking you out she’d tap her lips and say “cmere angel.” And give you a cute lil peck >:)

- You guys would walk into Spencer’s, give each other an evil look, and IMMEDIATELY run straight to the back.

- “Holy shit, babe there’s a fucking glow in the dark didlo.” You pretend to have your jaw drop as you wave Ellie over.

- She starts laughing wayyyyy harder than she should, “Whattthefuckkk that’s actually so fuckignfunny BAHAHAHA!”

- “Ellie it’s literally not that funny.” You’re not impressed.

- She gasps, trying to catch her breath, “No nonono no cuz imagine I’m fuckin’ you real good in the middle of the night. All the lights are off. And all you see is this damn glowing dick! Mannnn fuck.” You swear she wipes actual tears from her eyes.

- “Holy shit, do you think it would light up inside you?”

- You smack her on the shoulder 😭

- “Kay… that’s enough of Spencer’s…” you drag her by the hand out of there.

- “One more place I wanna go..” you keep dragging her by the hand.

- “Good.. cuz the malls ‘boutta close, princess.”

- Ellie smirks and scoffs as you guys walk into Claire’s. “Gonna get your clit pierced here or somethin’?”

- You go up to those merry-go-round display things and spin it until you find what you were looking for. “Nah, wanted one of these bad boys for Dina n I.” You show her one of those broken heart necklaces that come together to say best friends. She lets you pay for this one.

- At the end of your day Ellie walks the two of you out into the parking garage. It’s dark, so she pulls her hood up and hunches over to make herself appear more masculine. Not that it’s that dangerous or anything, but she’d probably never forgive herself if something happened to you - even the smallest scratch.

- As Ellie gets into her car, a SEXY ass truck might I add, she hands you a joint so you can relax as she drives you guys home ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

[bigification]

Careful What You Wish For

I lay the cheap looking lamp on my bathroom counter as I get ready for a bath. I can't believe I caved and bought it, it's obviously a scam. This stupid lamp isn't gonna grant any wishes, that old man just got some free cash out of me. It doesn't matter, I'll just take a relaxing bath and throw on some Netflix later.

I get undressed and run some hot water into the bath. Some scented candles set the mood for relaxation, and I throw on some music. I dip myself into the warm water, and lay back.

My relaxation doesn't last long however, as a rumbling catches my attention. It's the lamp. It's vibrating with enough force that I can feel it from across the bathroom. Suddenly a purple smoke emerges from the lamp.

"I may grant you one wish." A soft whisper echoes out of the smoke.

What the actual fuck. This isn't possible. Did that guy drug me? Maybe I should just say a wish to see if it's true.

"I wish to be a more mature looking guy who likes sports." I blurt out. I've always hated how much I look like a teenager despite being a full blown adult, so this could fix that. Also I wouldn't mind being a fit guy who likes sports, it wouldn't hurt.

The moment I say it, the smoke starts to travel towards me. All the smoke spirals into my mouth and nose. I should be scared, but it kinda feels nice. A warm feeling sprouts in the core of my body, making me feel relaxed again.

As the smoke fills my body, I feel my muscles twitching. It must be true, my body is changing. My twig like arms thicken, with bulging biceps and defined forearms. My soft hands grow twice as big and fill with rough callouses. My chest puffs out into two juicy pecs and my stomach flattens into a cut six pack. My thighs thicken as I feel my ass plump up. Even my feet look like they've grown a few sizes. I also have to start bending my legs, as Ive become too tall for the bath tub I'm sitting in.

I look at my reflection in the water and see a handsome man in his late twenties. Holy shit, I'm hot! I've got a chiselled jawline with a dark beard covering it. All my features seem more angular, more manly. As I'm observing my reflection, I notice a pelt of dark hair grow all over my body. My chest, my arms, my legs, everywhere is dusted in a coat of hair.

This is everything I wanted. Even the sports. Memories of playing sports all throughout school flood my mind. I especially liked soccer, though I also really liked weight lifting. More memories of my extensive sex life flood my mind, people are almost hypnotised by my good looks.

Just as I'm reminiscing about my past, I remember I should be working out right now. I can't skimp out on my workout routine. I go to get out of the bath and notice I've got my underwear on. Huh, I must have forgotten to take it off before getting in the bath.

As I'm stepping out of the bath, something feels wrong. A warm feeling once again fills my core. I look down and see my six pack fade under a belly of fat. It continues growing until it sags over my underwear. My pecs swell into a pair of man tits, though they still have a solid base of muscle. My arms double in size, though with a soft layer of fat now covering the muscles. My hands thicken until they look like stuffed sausages, as more rough features cover them.

I feel my underwear tighten around my waist as my ass fattens. My thighs thicken until there is no gap between them, and my feet grow many sizes. I even feel my perspective shift higher, as my height increases.

The dark hairs on my body fade to an almost white colour as the hair thickens around my body. As I'm looking down at my body, I notice hair on my head fall to the ground. I look in horror at my reflection in the mirror, I have to duck just to fully see my face. My hairline recedes all the way to the back of my head, leaving me practically bald. My once sharp facial features have softened under a layer of fat. And a double chin has formed under my beard. I look so old.

Though the more I stare at my body, the more familiar it becomes. Memories flood into my mind of my career in soccer. I was a high level player, and a popular one at that. But you age out of professional soccer in your late thirties. I started focusing more on the weight lifting and less on the cardio. There was only so long I could keep that six pack, and turning 50 certainly didn't help with that. I don't mind it though, it makes me feel more manly. And it makes the team I coach more afraid of me.

I snap out of my trance. I grab a towel and start to dry off. Damn I forgot to take off my underwear again, I should get rid of this one anyway, it doesn't fit me anymore. I duck and look at myself in the mirror.

"Lookin good coach." I say as I smile at myself.

I turn to the other side of the bathroom and step on my scale. It reads '350'.

"Damn, I've really let go of myself, huh." I say as I jiggle my gut.

I also measure my height, it reads 6"6. I should have gone into volleyball with the build I had.

I dry off and leave the bathroom. I grab a family sized bag of chips and lay my fat ass down on the couch. I open the tv and it's already on the world cup. I really wouldn't want it any other way.

[lovebugism]

☄. *. ⋆ ┄ Feel Good

summary: you don't come. ever. well... not until steve harrington comes along. pairing: steve harrington / f!reader warnings: the longest headcanon ever, talks of shitty boyfriends and masturbation, pure smut 18+ mdni! a/n: if you saw this before the repost... no you didn't. and to the anon that requested this: i hope you like it!

( MASTERLIST )

you don't come

this is not an exaggeration

it's purely a statement of fact

because you’ve never ever had an orgasm

not one

not with your fingers, not with a toy, not with a partner, not ever

you get pretty close sometimes

if you're in the right mindset and you have enough time (and a partner who isn't totally focused on their own pleasure

you can actually get really, really close

it’s kinda like climbing a steep mountain and nearly reaching the top

or seeing a glimmer light at the end of the dark tunnel

it always ends the same way, though

you fall from the peak. darkness swallows you whole. the feeling of bliss swells and then disappears entirely.

some of your partners have come up with their own theories

one said you internalized your religious upbringing and turn away from pleasure without thinking

another insisted that it wasn’t their fault they couldn’t make you come because your clit was just too small

the last one told you that you just “needed to love yourself more”

it was exhausting, quite honestly

your partners became your therapist, trying to pry into your mind and diagnose you accordingly

you were an experiment to them

they tried every position and motion to try and get you there, though sometimes it felt like they were only doing it because it felt good for them

some didn’t bother trying at all

they got frustrated with you, called you broken, and left to find someone “normal”

and it fucking sucked

so somewhere down the line, you just started faking it

because that was easier than having those uncomfortable conversations and waiting until they inevitably left you

that ultimately led to you avoiding relationships all together

and then you met steve

and you liked steve

screw that, you liked liked steve

he wasn’t like all the rest of the partners that fucked you over

and for the first time in a long time, you had a really good feeling about the whole thing

but you were terrified of screwing it up

and you were also terrified of lying to him

you were able to avoid it for the most part

that is, until he was about to go down on you for the first time

he’s got you on your back with his head between your legs

you tense when he presses a kiss to your thigh 

“you okay?”

“i don’t come” you blurt

“…what?”

“i don’t know why. i’ve just never been able to. and it’s not because of you, okay? so i don’t want you to think you’re doing something wrong or that i don’t want to do this, because holy shit i wanna do this so bad—”

and you’re just rambling

mostly because you feel like if you keep talking, it’ll keep him from saying something you don’t wanna hear

steve just nods and shoots you a small smile from between your legs

“that’s ok :)”

and you breathe out the biggest sigh of relief

because no one’s ever not made a huge deal about it

“can i still make you feel good?”

you just nod down at him bc you don’t trust your voice to say something intelligible

he gives you head that night and he’s good

he’s great actually

but you don’t come

the sex is even better

he makes an effort to find ways that’ll make it feel better for you

he’ll put pillows beneath your hips and push your legs up towards your chest when he’s on top of you

he’ll tell you all the ways to position yourself when you’re on top of him

with one leg bent and your foot flat on the bed so he’s hitting your sweet spot every time he drills into you

and it’s never about him

it never feels like he’s doing crazy positions to exploit you under the guise of “blowing your mind”

most guys only wanted to get you off so that they could feel like some kind of sex god

but steve genuinely wants you to feel good

and he’s so willing to learn your body to help you feel good

one time he sat himself behind you with his chin hooked over your shoulder

“show me how you do it” he said to you

and you did

but it didn't feel like you were some experiment to him either

it was so fucking hot

he made a show out of it, asking you to tell him everything you were doing to yourself and how it felt

“does that feel good?”

“it feels so good—” you interrupt yourself as your mouth falls open in a silent moan and your legs start to tense up

“oh that’s the spot, huh?”

and he likes to learn about all the times you’ve gotten the closest

even though to you it’s mortifying

you’re red in the face the entire time you tell him the only time you ever thought you might actually come was with the shower head

you get embarrassed and hide your face in his shoulder

he’s just like “no, it’s sexy! we can try that if you want?”

but you’re scared that might be a little too exposing and that there would be way too much pressure on you

as always, he’s the most understanding person on the planet

“that’s okay. we don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do. ever.”

and he makes you feel so safe and cared for 

even when you get defeated

because both of you try so hard but you just can’t get there

and after he’s spent an hour between your legs switching between his fingers and his mouth

you start crying out of pure and utter frustration

“steve stop. just stop. there’s no point. let’s just quit.”

and obv when you tell him to stop he’s gonna stop

but he can tell how sad you are when your back is to him and you're putting your clothes back on

and he tries not to smile when you get all twisted in your bra bc you’re so moody that you don’t put it on the right way

“it’s okay baby, we can keep trying—”

“no, steve, it’s not okay! i just don’t get why i can’t be like normal people!”

“there’s nothing wrong with you, okay? some girls just have a harder time than others. it’s okay to come less than other people”

“less?” you scoff “how about never?”

and he’s still patient with you

even while you’re ranting and getting all angry at him and yourself

“i don’t even know why you still try! it’s never gonna happen, okay? ever. you get that, right? there’s no point in trying. you should just find someone else—”

that’s when he stops you

“okay. that’s enough.”

he walks to you where you’re standing in nothing but your bra and underwear and your jeans that you shoved on but didn't button before you started ranting

“it doesn’t matter if you come or not— well, it does, but that’s not what this is about, okay? it doesn’t have to be about having an orgasm. when i’m with you, it doesn’t feel like i’m trying to accomplish something. it’s just about two people who love each other, spending time together, and feeling good”

“…you love me?”

“…was that not obvious?”

the two of you spend the rest of the night cuddling after that

and he’s adamant about not making it about sex

though he keeps having to apologize for his boner pressing into your back

a few days later he surprises you with a present, all wrapped up in with a pretty bow on top

“is it christmas?” you joke at the reindeer patterned wrapping paper

“sorry. that’s all i could find at the house.”

and it’s this huge fuck off vibrator that you know must’ve costed a fortune

you’re totally flustered when you open it and you have no idea what to do with yourself

but he’s so smiley and tells you that he wants to try it with you

and it’s really fucking good

it makes the already amazing sex that much better

you’re on your sides with him pressed against your back

and he holds it against your clit while he fucks you from behind

(he’s having an even better time too because he can feel the vibrations of it from inside of you)

you get the closest you’ve ever been like that

he watches intently when you press your face into your pillow

“are you close?”

you nod wordlessly

“i think… fuck— i think i might come”

and he starts fucking you harder, finding your spot and hitting it over and over again with the vibe still pressed attentively to your clit

a cry rises in your throat and escapes your mouth

and right when you think you might actually have your first orgasm

it fucking goes away

“fuck!”

steve can tell it’s not an exclamation of pleasure, but one of anger

he asks if you wanna keep going

you tell him he can until he comes but that you’re not gonna get there

like a doctor, he prescribes masturbation

and you spend exactly one week using the vibrator by yourself and trying to use it different ways that get you closer and closer

you’re on your back with it pressed into your opening while fiercely rubbing at your clit

and you feel yourself getting closer and closer and closer

it builds in an achingly familiar way

but when the feeling usually starts to ebb, it keeps going

the pleasure crescendos, numbs, and then explodes

having the house to yourself, you don’t bother holding back the noises, the almost painful sounding moans, as they spill from your mouth

the first thing you do when your senses return to you, is call steve

even though it’s 2 a.m.

and when he answers, he’s all groggy with sleep but he’s immediately ecstatic for you

he’s over at your place in ten minutes tops after your promise of recreating it for him

and you’re just absolutely gushing about it and thanking him a ton

because he’s the one who got you the vibrator after all

he wants you to tell him everything so you do

you tell him how you were laying and what you where thinking about

*cough cough* him

and what your fingers were doing and how the real trick was putting the vibe partly inside of you

and you don’t think about how it might make him insecure until the words are spilling from your mouth

because you’ve known guys in the past who get intimidated by dildos and vibrators out of fear that they could never compete with them

steve does express a little bit of that insecurity

he tries to cover it up by joking about how much bigger the toy is than his dick and how pretty soon he’ll be replaced altogether

and he’s laughing but you can tell it isn’t genuine because it doesn’t reach his eyes

so you tell him that you love every single part of him including his dick and that him ‘getting replaced’ is never happening in a million, billion years

when you start trying to get yourself to come again you make sure he’s involved too

both of you are kneeling on your bed and you’re gripping the headboard while he’s fucking into you from behind

one hand is clutching yours and the other is rubbing at your clit

you’ve got the vibrator pressed where you and steve meet

and you can feel him all over you

he’s mouthing at your neck and shoulder

and using his free hand to hold you and tease your nipples

you feel the pleasure start to build and your face scrunches up while you moan

and steve talks you all the way through it

“there you go. you got it— no, don’t tense up, baby, just let it happen... uh-huh, there it is. come for me, baby. come for me.”

and you do

catastrophically so

you tense so hard it almost hurts and you’re shaking like a leaf in his hold

the pleasure is numbing at first before hitting you like a fuck freight train

and you’d be embarrassed about the noises you were making if it didn’t feel so damn good and steve wasn’t praising you the entire way through

“there you go, baby. feels good, huh? you’re so— fuck, you’re getting so tight around me. can barely… holy shit… i can barely fucking move—”

you’re laughing in pure bliss when you feel him coming inside of you

he presses his weight against you and sprinkles wet kisses to your neck, humming praises onto your skin

when you come down and collect your bearings you confess to him, still caught in the post-sex haze, “it didn’t… it didn’t feel like that before…”

“no?”

“uh-uh. felt, like, a thousand times fucking better… 'cause you were here”

and he gets all sweet and blushy, saying he didn’t really do much

but you tell him that it was all him and that he helped you a ton

that he always helps you

“you’re the best sex i’ve ever had steve harrington, orgasm or not”

and this boy is blushing so hard you can see it in the tips of his ears

both of you are love-drunk and happy and dazed

he spends the rest of the night fucking you into your mattress

[thefreakandthehair]

steddie | rating: m | wc: 955 | tags: established relationship, use of cake as a metaphor, they're so in love your honor | art credit: @firefly-party

Eddie Munson celebrates two birthdays every year: the day he was actually born, December 19th, and the day he woke up in the hospital, April 8th. Funny enough, the latter is usually a bigger celebration. Family and friends that no longer exist in separate groups come together with all of Eddie’s foods and drinks, small gifts and sometimes, a bigger gift from the collective.

Try as they might, they’ve yet to top the Metallica tickets. 

But today is Eddie’s original birthday. December 19th— the one that’s usually swallowed up by the holidays, the one that really doesn’t mean all that much to him because, well, compared to waking up after saving the world, why would it? The last few celebrations have been tight-knit, mostly just himself, Wayne, and Steve either at Wayne’s trailer or the tiny little apartment Steve and Eddie managed to find for themselves. 

This year, it’s just the two of them with no one to blame but Mother Nature. A blizzard drops nearly three feet of snow over northeastern Indiana and no one is going anywhere, least of all Wayne whose getting up there in years. We'll make up for it later, Eddie assures him when he calls with a stream of apologies. 

How can he complain though? Wayne will make up for it, he’s snowed in with the love of his life, and the apartment smells like his favorite pasta sauce, the one he knows takes Steve hours to simmer. So no, he’s not disappointed. Not in the slightest. 

“Sorry your day got snowed out,” Steve sighs, plopping down onto the couch and draping an arm along the back of the couch, toying with the ends of Eddie’s hair. “I did get you a surprise though.” 

Eddie’s brow furrows, knitting tightly above his nose. There’s been no mail for two days, and their apartment doesn’t exactly lend itself to keeping secrets. “A surprise? What kinda surprise?”

“Well,” Steve smirks, confident in the way that always makes something stir in Eddie’s chest. “It’s not a birthday without a cake.” 

He’s so fucking lost. 

“A cake? We’ve been snowed in since Sunday and I would’ve smelled you baking in here. Also, I would’ve tasted it already, or at least demanded to lick the spoon so— wait, what are you doing?” 

Steve stands up and walks around the back of the couch, just behind Eddie. “Just close your eyes, okay? Or do I need to blindfold you?”

He can hear Steve’s smug grin without even seeing his face and now it’s not just his chest stirring. Eddie shifts I’m his seat. 

“No, no I can just close my eyes. Put a pin in the blindfold idea though.“ 

With his eyes closed, all he can do is imagine what the rustling is behind him, scenarios that will never compare to the sight he sees when Steve gives him the all clear. 

“Okay,” Steve says, his voice now coming from directly in front of Eddie. “Open.”

Very funny, brain, he thinks. My entire life since the demobats has to have been just one long, final burst of dopamine before kicking the bucket because there’s absolutely no way this is fucking real. 

Steve’s standing in front of him, shirtless, in nothing but some of the tightest shorts he’s seen Steve wear since the time he blindly walked into Scoops Ahoy asking for rum raisin and instead, got a fucking show. They’re dark maroon in hue with the word Cake printed in white script across the entirety of Steve’s ass. Moles litter his skin from the base of his neck down the flesh of his thighs, and the small indentation in his lower back is highlighted by the low waistband. Barely noticeable cuts in the sides expose what looks like black lace detailing. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie groans, unable to stop himself from reaching out and touching the soft, cotton material. 

“Yeah?” Steve looks over his shoulder with a knowing smile. “You like it?” 

Eddie fingers trace the font and he doesn’t even dare to blink. If it is a coma dream, he doesn’t want to risk waking up. “Do I like it? If I ever say no to that, Steve, take me into a field and off me because I’ve been replaced by the body snatchers.” 

Steve laughs and Eddie pulls him in closer, one hand on Steve’s hip and the other working its way up Steve’s thigh and beneath the fabric.

“Y’know,” Eddie starts, swallowing with a dry mouth around the lump in his throat. “There’s just one little problem with this birthday cake.”

“What?” Steve looks back over his shoulder again, this time confused. 

He gives his right cheek a light tap, just enough to relish in the way the plush flesh moves. “It’s not finished.”

“Oh yeah? What’s it need?” 

“You know I need my cakes frosted. And c’mon,” he leans forward and presses a kiss to Steve’s hairy thigh, just below the hem of the shorts. “Where’s the candle?”

Steve turns with a teasing grimace. “Did you just compare your dick to a candle?”

“Sure did. Is it working?” He smiles with his bottom lip between his teeth as he stands and places both hands in Steve’s hips. 

“I can’t believe it, but yeah, it kinda is.” Steve’s eyes flicker down to Eddie’s lips and back up. 

Eddie can barely get his thoughts in order, placing both hands on either side of Steve’s face and kissing him between words. 

“Best.” He kisses his forehead. “Birthday.” He kisses his nose. “Ever.” He kisses his lips. 

They make their way back to the bedroom and no one can blame him for leaving Steve’s ass littered in purpling hickies and love bites. 

It’s a cake, after all.

art by @firefly-party to celebrate @sidekick-hero's birthday today! here's a little collaboration to honor our favorite Cake Enthusiast! Sandy, we love you and hope you have the absolute best day. go give her some love, everyone!

[astralnymphh]

imagine pussy slapper ellie thooo 🤭 like she lowkey aggressive fucking you but it’s so hot

.ᐟ 𓂋⋅. yes pussy slapper ellie is a classic here, loves to do it after you cum or whilst edging. I've definitely highlighted this detail before but i think ellie is just so fixated/immersed in the supple jiggle your folds give when her flattened digits land plumb to it. and when i say immersed, i say it with weight in my little narrartor—voice, i fuckin' mean it. she would slap your folds over and over and pay abysmally—deep attention to the slow, steady, slap by slap augment of a heated suffuse to them ~ ♡ heeding how each time her hand comes down, your labia feels puffier— and pulsing, swears she can detect a pulse point if her fingertips linger a lash longer. ౨ৎ

tugs a one—sided smirk the likeness of a total asshole, cocksure that her smacks are making you needier and needier, cooing shit like, "ohhohh~ does it hurt babe? mhh but chu' like that, don't ya?" in her smoky, smug tone. her opposing hand giving tender pressure on the hind of your thigh, pushing it up to where the fat squashes against ur belly.. just going ham. ugh, and her gaze would veil between glancing up at your pouty—mouthed doe face, shivering like y'been doused in a splash of wintry cold water, to gawking at your shaky spilling cunt, staring— a flattered stare. flattered, of your vulnerability. flattered, of your pellucid teardrops and beads of sweat rolling the big marbles of your cheekbones. flattered, because with every wet slap— it's like she's milking you, white of your arousal gathering at the bottom of your vulva, eventually mingling with the globs of her spit pushing bubbles into your milky slick. ♡ all hell lets loose though when her hand comes down to pound — but seems to stick there. allowing her middle finger to kinda just.. ease in your hole. curls up her other knuckles so she can start pumping that lone one in, a twinning heat concocting in the tiny air pocket of her elastic—fit boxers, heartbeat pressurizing inside her chest the deeper her finger—wad reaches inside of you. ౨ৎ

"holy fuck— ts' like i can only fit one finger in that tight little— ohh, fuuckk she's huggin' me in, fuck fuckin' fuck~" chanted she, petering out into a deep, sepulchral sough while her eyelids wane closed, "don't make me wanna fuck that pussy, god—" n you watch as her ears turn into clementines, dark auburn lashes bunching when she pinches her brows.. ♡ gahh she just loves fingering.

HANDS. NEED THEM SLAPPING MY PUSSPUS.

(img from 13lunara on pinterest)

[redflagshipwriter]

Red Hot Ghouls 14 part 1/2

masterpost

“Hey, what’s up? Just checking in. Any luck so far? I finished my books!” Danny read mockingly off the burner phone with only one contact. He felt his eyebrow twitch. “What is this guy’s problem?” He got up in a jerky motion and started pacing around his one room apartment like the world’s most broke-ass tiger. It took three steps to get off the rug and onto the 3 tiles in front of his front door. He wheeled on his heel and did it again, and again, and then he forcibly collapsed back onto his couch in a huff. “What a bitch,” Danny complained. He kicked at the cushion. “Where does he get off talking to me like he doesn’t know…”

His voice trailed off as he accidentally had a thought. The thought happened to him entirely against his will. He really hated the thought.

Like. What if, just as a guess. What if he supposed that Jason the hapless performance-art biker tough guy rough guy had not found his secret identity? What if he had just like, gone out to a dark coffeeshop to read a new book? And from his perspective, some weird guy had yelled at him and made a funny face like a pissy toddler?

Shit. Shit, fuck, and damn. Danny groaned. Was Jason just a local??? Had he walked into that place by chance- oh. Holy fucking shit.

“I am the dumbest engineer I know,” Danny marveled. He looked up at the ceiling and sort of wished it would fall in and kill him instantly. “Jeremy is in Arkham. That implies he committed this crime in Gotham. That would imply his victim was from Gotham.”

Honestly… He had kinda just thought that Jeremy was in Arkham because it was convenient for him. But of course not. No one knew he was in Gotham. If Jeremy knew that Danny Phantom was on Gotham he would have been taking out creepy billboards to beg for his attention and damnation or something.

‘So Jason just thinks I am a total weirdo.’

Pain. Pain. Psychic damage. Danny threw his arm over his face and muffled a scream into his forearm, fucking mortified. Why was he so embarrassing? 

‘I don’t actually know that this happened in Gotham; Jeremy could have gone outside of city limits for his little ritual. Jason didn’t ask me to take him to Gotham from the GZ,’ Danny clung to in faint hope. ‘Maybe he really did hunt me down. Or maybe he looked up ectobiologists, learned about my family, and just sought out the geographically closest Fenton.’ 

…Get real. Come on. Jason wasn’t a detective. The straightest line between two points was the most likely path of events.

He unlocked his phone with numb fingers and started searching for any proof that this guy was a Gothamite. 

Jason Gotham

A bunch of Linked in profiles, a bunch of articles about rich people, and a flood of bookface profiles. It was a common name.

“That figures,” Danny huffed, feeling a little stupid for thinking that would work. He blew out a long breath. “It’s not like there’s ever just one guy in the world. There’s a billion Dannys out there for chrissake. There’s a Danny in my Econ class.”

Jason Gotham big strong guy

There was a wrestler from Gotham whose agent was named Jason. Danny clicked through the article to look at the photos just in case. No dice. His Jason was built prettier than the agent or the wrestler, Danny thought absently. Oh. He did have something that a wrestler didn’t, though.

Jason Gotham guns

Weirdly, the Linked-in profiles came back up. Danny was baffled and curious enough to read through a couple. “Gotham is such a goddamn place,” he marveled, eyebrows traveling up. “I thought you weren’t supposed to talk about things like…” Then the penny dropped. “Henchmen get hired off Linked-in?” He sat up explicitly so that he could shake his head in disbelief at the state of this city. “Wild.”

Well. The mission was not a success. Danny buried his face in his hands and accidentally smacked himself with the phone still in his hand. He ignored the stinging of his cheekbone to wallow in self-pity. It would heal up fast anyway.

“I think I need to answer his message,” Danny said. He felt real low. He felt like such a silly bastard. “I have to be smart and feel out if he knows I’m Danny.” He paused. “Danny Fenton, not Danny Phantom. Because I introduced myself as Danny Phantom.” Danny groaned. That seemed like an unnecessary clue, now that he really thought about it.

‘I need to avoid Jazz,’ Danny thought grimly. ‘If she sees me, she is going to sense weakness and find out what I did.’

He mulled over his options for a bit, trying to plot a response that would reveal all of Jason’s secrets and also make sense in conversation.

He failed. “I’m not a smart man,” Danny said conversationally, and sent,

You finished all those books already?? You unemployed, dude???

Jason must have been waiting on him. His response was pretty fast. 

Self-employed, actually. 

[bueckers-sturniolo]

you are in love. (part 2 to the alchemy)

paige bueckers x fem!reader

read part 1 here!

word count: 1,234!

warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol, drunk!paige, smooching. ALSO, if u listen to the song and read, i skipped around and used different lyrics to make this flow easier and more understandable.

authors note: HI GUYS! i wrote the alchemy 10-ish days ago now, and you guys have shown me so much love and support. i cannot express how happy i am that you guys enjoy my writing :) i hope you guys love, love, love this. i love love love you. part 3 coming soon, hopefully :)

p.s. all of the words highlighted in blue are references back to you are in love. enjoy :)

one look, dark room. meant just for you. time moved too fast, you play it back. buttons on a coat, lighthearted joke. no proof, not much. but, you saw enough. small talk, he drives. coffee at midnight. the light reflects, the chain on your neck. he says,’look up,’ and your shoulders brush. no proof, one touch, but you felt enough.

the night after the game was a blur. well, partly. the team was now at a restaurant-bar type thing. some of you were drinking, some of you aren’t. paige was, which, everytime the team went out, she did. but, this time is… different.

shes always a little touchy-feely when drunk, but, she’s taking it to a whole new level tonight. right now, you’re talking to kk, sitting down, and she’s somewhere taking shots with azzi. you’ve been keeping an eye on her all night, but…. she tends to wander.

you’re currently drinking an espresso martini, even though it was close to midnight and it probably wasn’t the best idea to drink coffee at midnight. but, who cares? it’s fun.

“im surprised paige isn’t attached to your hip, right now.” kk says, snapping you out of your daze with a light-hearted joke.

you chuckle, shaking your head. your gaze meets paige again. she finally locks eyes with you, and smiles lopsidedly.

“holy shit, she’s hammered.” you whisper to kk, and kk laughs, “yeah, she normally gets a little tipsy after a win.” you nod at that, then signal for paige to walk over to you guys.

she makes her way over to you guys, immediately walking up behind you and resting her chin on your shoulder.

“hey, hiccup, killer. what’s up?” paige says, slurring her words. you can smell the alcohol. maybe it’s from the close proximity, maybe she’s just chugging alcohol like it’s spring break. you have no clue, but regardless, it kinda makes your stomach turn. it’s not a great smell.

“just checkin’ on you,” you mumble, turning your face to look at her. she looks at you from the corner of her eyes, smiling slightly. “how much have you had to drink?”

“a few, not a lot…” she says, still smiling. you chuckle, looking back at kk with a ‘are you hearing this bitch lie straight through her teeth?’ look, and kk just smiles.

paige’s hand made its way around your body, then brings it up to your collarbones, fiddling with the necklace around your neck. she hums as she looks at it.

“it’s sparkly.” paige says, her drunk mind being weirdly fascinated with the way the light reflects the chain on your neck. you smile at that, finding it absolutely fucking adorable how interesting she finds this necklace, even though you wear it all the time.

one step, not much. but, it said enough. you kiss on sidewalks,

by the time paige is ready to leave, it’s 1:46 am. the rest of the team had left already, getting bored of waiting for paige to hurry up. but, you felt obligated to stay. so, you call an uber, then you guys stand outside on the sidewalk. it’s december, and it’s extremely cold outside. you and paige stand huddled up to each other, shivering. your teeth started chattering together, and paige couldn’t bare it anymore.

that’s when paige wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you into her. it wasn’t really for her sake, at all. it was for yours.

you rest your head into the crook of her neck, pushing your hands inbetween your bodies to seek some sort of warmth. you guys stand like this in silence for a few minutes. then, her drunk temptations started to get the best of her. she gently nudges your face with her shoulder, signaling for you to lift it up.

as you do, she looks at you for a few seconds. you were extremely confused as to why she would take away your sense of heat, and then she kisses you. she kisses you.

what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck, is your only thought. after a few moments of shock, you decide to kiss back, bringing your hands up to her face. it feels wrong, you feel guilty. she’s so drunk she probably doesn’t even know what she’s doing.

but, drunk actions are sober thoughts. so, fuck it, you think.

as the uber rolls up beside you guys, she breaks the kiss. she then just lets go of you and walks off like it didn’t fucking happen. what. the. fuck. is still your only thought.

you fight, then you talk.

the next morning, you decide to ask her about it. bad choice, but hell, why not?

“so… you just…” you stay silent for a few seconds, “don’t remember kissing me? at all?” you say, getting frustrated. you had no real reason as to getting angry over this, but, you wanted her to remember it. you wanted her to have meant it.

“no, i do not fuckin’ remember it, why is it even such a big deal? friends kiss all the time as a joke.” paige says, shrugging. she’s sitting across from you on your couch right now, and she’s sitting as far as she can. why the fuck is she doing this?

“paige, i just-“ you cut yourself off, running your hands over your face. how do you defend the fact that you’re angry about your best friend not remembering kissing you while drunk? it’s not even that big of a deal, really.

“look, im sorry i did it. im sorry i dont remember. it was a mistake, y/n.” she says, sighing. okay, fuck you too, then, you think. you didn’t really want to talk about it anymore, honestly. her saying it was a mistake was something that was so hurtful that it kinda made you have that feeling in your stomach when it feels like your heart has actually dropped down onto it. (does that even make sense? let me know)

now or never, now or never, now or never, you repeat in your head.

you take a deep breath, opening your mouth. then, you close it again. paige is staring dead at you. she’s always been good at just making eye contact with anyone and everyone, it made you kinda nervous. you weren’t bad or uneasy with eye contact normally, but with her… it was different.

“what if i wanted you to mean it, paige?” you say, looking her dead in the eyes.

she stares. all that she can is fucking stare at you. “what?” she mumbled out, quietly. “what do you mean, ‘what?’ its pretty damn clear. what if i wanted you to mean it when you kissed me? i know you were drunk, i understand that. but, what if i have been praying since it happened that you intended for that to happen and the only way you could push yourself to finally do it was when you were drunk off your ass?” you begin rambling out of frustration of her not responding with what you want her to.

you want her to admit that she wanted to kiss you. you wanted her to admit that every time she saw you, it took every fiber and atom in her body to hold back from kissing you. but, she didn’t. she stares at you in shock, eyes wide. in disbelief, even.

“what?”

a/n: sorry for the cliffhanger. anyway, part 3? 😁

[fanfictilltheend]

❤️‍🔥Violent Heart Part 2:  ♪Remember when I moved in you, and the holy dove was moving too ♫ (or the VERY DARK Stepdad!Mechanic!Covict!Joel x Afab!you one)❤️‍🔥

Hi I apologize that a lot of these reference pics are just of white girls. I tried to find "aesthetic" images that go with the story but so many of them are just of white people and I want to call myself out for this because in the fic's only descriptors are that she has hair and is AFAB -- nothing about race. I also realize that all of the girls in this are skinny too and Y/N's body type is never specified. Sorry fam!! These images are just to get the creative juices flowing and don't truly depict anything from the fic!!

A/n: It’s here!!!!!! 18+ Only. This took me 7 freaking months so you mofos better like, reblog, and comment. This is both my most and least personal fic I’ve ever written and it is dark and relies heavily on plot (smut this time tho!!) READ ALL OF THE TAGS DO NOT COME FOR ME UNLESS YOU DID THIS FR FR. This ones for my dark joel fangirlies(guys and NBies) and the daddy issues fam ily ❤️‍🔥 (also not me naming my fic in part after hallelujah by leonard cohen but there is a reason!!!!!!!!!!)

Summary: Part 2 picks up with Y/N at age 20 and how her relationship with Joel has changed and gets steamier.  SMUT and feelings <3 Also check out this playlist of music that’s in the fic!!!!

Tags (PLEASE READ): Afab!you, pov change, Infidelity, threats, age gap, dressing Joel up (swear I wrote this before he wore that outfit to the SAG awards — the mr.Darcy-core one), racist comment (from Y/N’s douchey boyfriend), douchey boyfriend, confidence issues, feelings, voyeurism, masturbation (m and f), kissing, penis in vagina sex — unprotected (wear a condom), lightest hint of ass play, scar worship?? kinda??, daddy issues, daddy kink, using music lyrics to move the plot, multiple orgasms (m and f), religion and god discussions, stepcest (kinda bc technically he is divorced from her mother), tagging psuedo-incest just to be safe!!, use of y/n

Word Count: ~13k

PART 1

AO3 Link

Violent Heart Masterlist

Full Masterlist of all my work

If you’re being honest, you’ve always had a little crush on Joel Miller. How could you not have? The first day you’d met him had been like some kind of fucked up yet extremely satisfying whirlwind of a daydream. He’d come in, broad and tall and strong, and saved you from your evil (though you do love him somewhere deep, deep down) older brother’s onslaught. Protected you like a knight in shining armor from his punching, beating fists. Treated and touched you so tenderly, so many miles different from how your own father did that you’d been hit with whatever the pleasant opposite of whiplash is. And the way he finally punished Aiden after years of his reign of terror, the violence of it, the justice of it. You didn’t have words for it then, but the way you looked into Joel’s eyes when he was doling out that righteous punishment became some kind of strange secret understanding between the two of you. Maybe it was the first sign of love? You aren’t sure.

As a kid, he’d given you what you like to think of as quiet butterflies. They were always there when he spoke to you, looked at you, touched you, beat the shit out of your father and brother for you, but they were faint enough that you could ignore them. It was a comforting, fluttering kind of love, a gradual understanding of your loyalty to one another. But then puberty hit and the insects became incessantly loud when you thought of, wrote to, or talked to him. They ate at your heart day after day while Joel was in prison – the longing, the missing. Aiden told you that you were obsessed with him. Your mother told you to forget him, that he would forget you. But somehow, he didn’t. You wonder if those bugs live in him too. You wonder if they are quiet or loud and if they gnaw .

You think that they are probably loud. You think this for a few reasons. The first is that you know for a fact, you can feel it in the lining of your soul, and from the evidence of his constant correspondence and care for you, that he is just as obsessed with you as you are with him. The second reason is the fact that you think but aren’t one hundred percent sure is that the last time you’d hugged him he’d gotten a little hard (you don’t want to think too much into that because he is only a man who had been deprived of touch for a long time – but still you wonder…). And the third is the way he looks at you like you are the universe like you are the last drop of nectar and he is the last butterfly left on Earth in a famine. 

That’s how he’s looking at you now in the passenger seat of his old, clunky pickup. You know that he wanted to drive, but you wanted to show him how well you could because he had never seen. Never had the chance to see how well you had fixed, maintained, and took care of his baby and of course he gave into you like he always does. He's smiling at you quietly, but his eyes contain multitudes. Right now mostly pride at your driving.

Joel is a bit different than how you remember sitting near him in the truck the last time you were together, him as a free man, you as a little girl. Somehow, even though you are obviously bigger now, he still seems massive and broad and stronger than ever. His biceps are huge – probably from all the time he had to work out in prison – and peeking out under his blue t-shirt that you brought for him, you think you see the outlines of some tattoos. You look a little closer. On his right arm is text in curvy black ink. You think it reads, “Sarah.” You smile softly at that. On his other arm is a strange orange shape that you have to squint at to understand. The edges of the object are jagged but they form a shape like a badge – and then you know what it is! It is the guitar pick you made for Joel as a child. The one that had pricked his finger and drawn blood and he stuck it in his wallet. You can’t articulate how honored you feel that Joel loved you enough to tattoo something you made for him on his body, permanently, forever. 

“ Well , the light only turned green damn near eons ago,” he complains about your driving, but you know he is just teasing.

There is hardly anything wrong you can ever do in Joel’s eyes. He grins at you a bit lopsidedly and you smile back. You also can’t help but notice the greying of his brown hair. It’s a bit longer than it used to be too and the length gives it a little bit less of a shaggy look. You think it suits him, makes him look a bit older and more distinguished than when he first came into your life twelve years ago. 

Objectively, you know it’s weird to think that your ex-stepdad who is a convicted felon is hot, but it’s just something you’ve always known and thought like that the sky is blue or that orange is your favorite color. You know it’s weird to think of someone who was? – is? – supposed to be a father figure to you that way, but it’s already second nature at this point. You’ve had a few boyfriends (luckily all of them had treated you right), but none of the feelings you’ve ever had for them have compared to the cosmic-sized love and affection you have for Joel and you’ve never known anything different. The years you spent longing, missing, loving, obsessing over, and aching for him in every way under the sun, can’t be healthy, you know this, but they have eclipsed practically every other relationship in your life. No one has ever made you feel as safe and protected and loved as Joel has. No one else has ever looked at you the way he does. No one else’s entire existence has revolved around you the way his has. The sheer devotion in his gaze is enough to make the butterflies inside you scream and beat their wings against your insides like hungry bats. 

And you especially know you shouldn’t have these feelings about another human being violent enough to be capable of taking a life – inebriated or not. You’re grown now and know the man he killed was a scum-of-the-Earth child predator, and secretly you’ve always wondered if there was more to the story than Joel told the police in the official court transcripts you’d read as an adult, maybe even something to do with you since you had been there that day in the repair shop when they met , but you haven’t pressed because you’re sure the whole thing is quite traumatic for Joel and if he ever wants to tell you, you know he will. And more importantly, you don’t really care. Drunken, violent idiot or not, you were already deeply invested and never intended on wavering in that. You’re not sure there’s anything Joel could do to get you to stop loving him and that both terrifies and excites you. 

“Okay, whatcha wanna eat?” you ask, reaching out to rub Joel’s shoulder gently. “Now that you’re free you can have whatever you want! On my mom’s credit card of course. Swear I won’t tell her.”

Joel grins.

“Deal,” he tells you. “I was thinking of a nice steak dinner.”

***

You pull into the fanciest restaurant you can find in the tri-state area and sit down to order a regal, all-American, full three-course steak dinner (though you’re both woefully underdressed – not that you care – though the host gives you a dirty look). All the while, you tell Joel about your major (psychology) and how you want to become a counselor for abused children.

“That’s sort of beautiful, sweetheart,” he tells you with a genuine smile that used to be so hard to coax from him, but now seems to float over to you so easily and gently like a kiss from something as soft as the wings of a butterfly. “Wanting to help defenseless children. You’re kinda like a guardian angel for them, ya know? Damn proud of ya! Also, these mashed potatoes are goddamn delectable!” he exclaims after taking an experimental bite. “Have I mentioned that prison food is shit?”

You smile bashfully and want to tell him that he is your guardian angel (you wonder if he thinks the same of you) and inspiration in a backward sort of way for wanting to help kids in the first place since he was so good at protecting you for the most part (though you obviously don’t believe violence is the correct answer in your line of future work). But kids need protectors. Somehow you know that deep down you forgive him for all of the violence he caused because you would forgive him for anything. And him being proud of you? You don’t think there’s a better feeling in the world than that! You burst with pride. Your real father never said that to you, but Joel doesn’t feel like your father now. He is something different entirely. Something that entirely belongs to you.

“And you’ll meet my boyfriend, Max, tomorrow,” you nod as Joel moves onto the steak and lets out a soft moan at how good it tastes. “He’s heard a lot about you.”

Joel’s face flattens.

“And who is this kid exactly?” he sneers a little, attacking the steak with his knife. 

You smile internally at the obvious jealousy he’s trying to hide from his voice.

“Hey, Max is a decent guy!” you insist in his defense. “He’s pre-law. Real smart. He’s gonna be an important person someday, I know it. You’ll get on.”

That last part is a bit of a lie since you’re not sure the two will actually like each other. 

Joel examines your face, looks deep into your eyes.

“All I know is, just because someone is important, don’t mean they’re good to you or for you for that matter.” 

You can’t help but think of your father, the most “important” man you know and how much of a degenerate he is compared to someone ostensibly average like Joel who didn’t even have a status symbol like a college degree and how perfect of a man you think he is, despite his obvious flaws. You blush a little, scrunching up your nose. 

“Just lookin’ out for you, sweetheart,” he continues, smiling at the way you do. “He ever fuck with you – he ever break your heart, you know just where to send him, alright?”

“Yeah, Joel,” you grin. “Don’t need you getting any more jail time though, alright?” “You may have made a valid point,” he concedes with a smirk. 

***

When you two enter your shitty, one-bedroom apartment it’s already dark outside. Joel actually grins when he notices his and your guitars have both been mounted on the wall. 

“We can play ‘em tomorrow,” you tell him excitedly. “If you want to, I mean…”

“Hell yeah, I do,” Joel smiles. “Wanna hear ya singing for me, honey. I missed that.”

You smile to yourself.

“You can have my bed, and I’ll take the couch,” you decide, getting back to business. 

“No way, babygirl. I ain’t taking your bed.”

“Joel, you’ve literally been on a prison mattress for eight fucking years! Can’t imagine that’s been very comfortable.”

“That’s exactly why I won’t mind the couch. That’ll feel like heaven to me. Don’t want you messin’ up your back, sweetheart.”

You open your mouth, but Joel beats you.

“And that’s that,” he insists. 

“Alright, alright,” you concede, knowing by the look on his face he’s not budging. If one thing, Joel has always been stubborn, but you like that about him. “D’you wanna watch a movie or something?”

“Actually, baby, if ya don’t mind, I’d like a quick shower. Been dreaming about taking a real, private one for ages.”

“Yeah, of course!” you nod, motioning toward your bathroom door. “Towels are under the sink.”

Joel makes his way inside and soon steam is billowing out the bottom of the door. 

You busy yourself with some homework, but just as you walk past the door to grab a glass of water, you think you hear Joel singing.

You listen more closely over the fall of the running water and make out him singing the chorus of an old ABBA song with a deeper, sadder tone to it,

♪ “ Slipping through my fingers all the time / I try to capture every minute / The feeling in it / Slipping through my fingers all the time / Do I really see what's in her mind? / Each time I think I'm close to knowing / She keeps on growing / Slipping through my fingers all the time…” ♫

You feel like such a sap, but you feel a tear forming in your eye at the way Joel must be thinking about his and your relationship and everything he missed in your life. You aren’t mad at him, but his absence hurt in a way you didn’t know you could feel. And you’ve never blamed him, really, but the lack of him for eight years of milestones really did kill a piece of you. You can’t help but imagine a butterfly at the bottom of your stomach with its wings pulled off. That’s how you felt all that time without Joel – like a butterfly without wings. A writhing worm of a human being, senseless and lost in a giant world full of forces you couldn’t control. 

You listen to Joel’s beautiful, deep voice until you hear him turn off the tap and you scurry away and act innocent. 

Joel emerges from the bathroom then with nothing but a white towel around his waist, steam from the shower floating lazily into the room behind him like precession. And oh, wow, is he ever a sight to behold. His hair is wet, dark brown flecked with grey, and starting to get curly from the moisture. You also can’t help but notice his broad chest, the expanse of it, the dark curls of hair, his bulking, muscular tattooed arms, his soft, hairy tummy, the V-shape of muscle that descends beneath the towel, his happy trail. You are overwhelmed by the soaking beauty of him. You’d seen Joel shirtless before, sure, but it had never felt like this . 

“Gon’ grab some of those clothes you bought for me and then maybe we could watch something?” Joel asks as you try so fucking hard not to stare at him.

“Sure!” you squeak, staring down at your notebook at the kitchen counter. 

You think you see a smirk from Joel, but you're not sure because your gaze is averted as he grabs some clothes to change into and disappears back into the bathroom.

When he reemerges, dressed in a wifebeater and shorts that accentuate his form, you two sit next to each other on your cushy sofa and surf the TV for something to watch. You feel Joel’s hairy knees against your jean-clad one and your heart flutters.

“Can’t believe I’m really here,” Joel says softly as you pass re-runs of Full House, a dog show. “Like I gotta fuckin’ pinch myself to know it’s not a dream.”

Suddenly you feel a large, weathered hand on your cheek.

“Missed you so much, babygirl,” he murmurs, looking into your eyes, massaging the line of your jaw ever so lightly, trying to hold your skittish gaze. “More than I even have words for.”

First, you avoid looking at him a bit bashfully, but then you stare up cautiously into those big brown eyes that feel like a familiar kind of home and you’re such a goner. You lean into his warmth, the warmth of his hand.

“Missed you too, Joel. So much,” you admit, never wanting this moment to end or him to let go of you. “More than anything.”

He leans forward a little and for a second you think…but then he’s leaning in and planting a heavy kiss on your forehead. A kiss that has weight to it – not those soft, weak ones that Max gives you haphazardly when he’s drunk or high – the only time he’s brave enough to be vulnerable with you. This kiss says something, means it so sincerely too. 

“Love you, honey,” he tells you. Then his face falls. “Sorry I…wasn’t quite there to say that to you enough in person.”

“It’s okay, Joel. I forgive you,” you insist. “I love you so much, dummy. More than you even know!”

But you truly do appreciate the sentiment. 

***

You settle on an old, black and white classic, Paper Moon, that’s playing on the TV Land channel.

Joel wraps a big arm around you and you snuggle close. You’re pretty sure there isn’t a better feeling in the world than being this close to him. Even after all these years he still smells like Joel; like home (and, if you’re being honest, a bit like your vanilla shampoo) .

You lean against him, your cheek pressing into one of his firm pecs. You begin to feel sleepy, drunk on the steady sound of his heartbeat, alive and beating against you and really here . 

You nod off.

***

At first, you don’t believe it, but you feel someone with strong, firm arms lifting you into the air, cradling your back and the insides of your knees in a bridal-style carry. The movement wakes you, but you don’t open your eyes because the safety and security you feel is too good to give up. Joel carries you to your bedroom and lays you down gently in your bed. You’re still in day clothes and shoes so Joel takes off your worn sneakers with a feather-light touch and places them at the foot of the bed – you can tell from the soft thumps it makes. He maneuvers you so tenderly under the covers and tucks you in with love and care. You wonder the last time someone did that for you and pull up a blank. If anyone ever did that for you it was probably Joel. Maybe your mom did when you were really young. Certainly your father nor Aiden ever did – your father hadn’t liked to touch you except out of anger – kind of like you had some kind of weird, contagious disease. Aiden’s hands had almost always hurt too, but not Joel’s – never his. 

He breaks you from your thoughts by pressing another kiss to your forehead. Your eyes are still closed so you aren’t sure, but you think he watches you for a second and lets out a long sigh. 

Then you hear your bedroom door close softly so as not to disturb you. You smile, you can’t help it, and drift back off into a peaceful sleep.

***

You wake up to a mumbling, grunting sort of sound. You look over at your clock and read 3:42 a.m. You sit up. You can kind of hear some muffled noises coming from outside your room. At first, you feel a little concerned – like maybe Joel is in pain or something as he is the only one who could be making the noises. The walls in your apartment are paper-thin. Like you could hear him sneeze clear as day if he were to because sound travels through the shitty walls so easily. You should have told him that. But what the fuck is he doing up at 3 a.m.? 

You creep (and you mean creep) silently to the door of your bedroom and open it the tiniest crack. The way your apartment is laid out, the back of the sofa is the first thing you see and the back of Joel’s head about six feet away. He doesn’t sound in pain the way he’s groaning and then you understand exactly what he’s doing. Of course the man is jerking off! After being in prison, stuck around people for so long of course he wanted a good, private wank. He isn’t looking at anything from what you can tell, no magazines or anything. Must be using his imagination. You wonder what he’s thinking about, if he’s gotten good at that over the years.

You should turn around, slink back into bed, and cover your ears with a pillow so the man can have some privacy. But, fuck, the way he’s grunting. His voice is so fucking deep and sexy and then he lets out a soft, vulnerable moan and you feel heat envelope your whole body. You think you hear a soft fuck roll off his tongue and your heart almost beats right out of your chest. You can hear the lewd slapping of his fist on skin getting louder and more intense. Then you hear a soft take it, fuck. And Jesus, you are so fucking wet between your thighs. You ought to be ashamed. Instead, you reach down your hand feverishly beneath the band of your jeans and soaking underwear instinctively to stroke yourself ever so slightly. You sigh in relief, but you are fucking gushing, your fingers covered in your slick. You can’t see anything besides the back of Joel’s head, technically, so this couldn’t be that wrong, could it? He lets out a soft groan, you can tell he’s holding back so as not to be heard, but the desperation in the pathetic little noises this hulking man is making is turning on every switch inside you. Oh how you want to go over there and take him in your mouth, to taste him. God you are so fucked up! You’re still touching yourself gently, not really fully going at it yet, considering the possibilities that could follow if you went over there. But before you can decide to do anything, Joel positively whines, moans, and grunts fuck, unh, and you think but aren’t sure, babygirl, and finishes.

You stop dead still in what you’re doing. Did he really say “babygirl” or was that just your horny-ass imagination playing tricks on you? You’ve never heard Joel call anyone babygirl except you. Was he really thinking of you? On the one hand, if true, mega fucked up. On the other, wow, incredibly hot. You think about going over there and asking him to finish you off or something as crazy as in all those dumb romance novels you used to read in middle school, but just as quickly as the idea comes to you, you hear another noise: loud snoring. Joel is asleep.

Typical.

You snort to yourself. That was so quintessentially Joel. You don’t want to disturb him now. The moment has passed. And only then is when you remember you have a fucking boyfriend. 

That doesn’t stop you from closing your door softly, crawling back into bed, and reaching your hand down beneath your panties to touch yourself. You stroke your clit, imagining it is Joel’s rough hand rubbing against you. Holy fuck. You haven’t been this wet since you used to touch yourself thinking about him in the past. It’s like he can reach every part of you, every layer in a way that no one else can. You know the whole thing is so fundamentally fucked up, but you can resist sinking into your favorite fantasy. The smell, the touch, the feel of him. You imagine the noises he was making so beautifully on the couch, feel heat coil through your entire body, and immediately cum hard without even sticking a finger inside yourself. 

The pleasure you feel is so unparalleled and real you have to cover your hand with your mouth not to scream out your powerful orgasm. 

Sweat drenches your whole body as you come down. 

God, you are so fucked.

***

The next morning you wake up to the wafting smell of someone cooking eggs. You emerge from your room a little sheepishly from last night’s events to find Joel behind the kitchen counter making eggs and toast. 

“Mornin’, babygirl,” he grins, his eyes shining like he’s excited about something.

And then you realize: that something is you.

You grin back.

“Good morning, Joel,” you beam at him.

You were so afraid things would feel awkward after what you heard last night, but nothing ever feels awkward with Joel. In some ways, he’s still just your average dorky, friendly old ex-stepdad, convicted felon. In other ways, everything about him sets your heart on fire, but it would be stupid to ruin what you have with him because you think it’s remotely possible he might be interested back. You know this is dramatic, but if he flat-out rejected you, you think you might die. Truly. Like those butterflies inside you would beat their wings so hard they’d burst your heart.

“‘Membered you liked ‘em poached,” he nods, breaking you from your thoughts. 

He scoops two poached eggs onto one of your plates and grabs a piece of toast from the toaster which he smears with butter like how you used to eat toast as a kid. You can’t believe he remembered.

“Thanks so much,” you tell him.

He grabs a few eggs and toast for himself and sits beside you at the counter. 

“Nice to be able to cook me ‘n you some real food,” he remarks. “If I eat one more cup o’ noodles in my lifetime I swear to God Almighty…” he trais off.

He’s looking at you like you put the goddamned sun in the sky. Your heart melts as you stare at his features, the faint curls in his hair. Oh, how you want to reach out and touch him. But that just isn’t how you operate. You won’t ruin what you already have.

The butterflies in your chest howl. 

***

` You lay out the day’s schedule to Joel. You have plenty of time to hang about (you see him eyeing the guitars), and then you need to go shopping for some actual clothes for Joel since the things you brought for him don’t constitute a proper wardrobe. Then you will go out to dinner and meet Max. 

Joel grunts a nod at that last part. He doesn’t seem too thrilled.

“Wanna show me what you’ve been playing?” he asks hopefully as he gets up to put both of your plates in the sink,

“‘Course!” you nod enthusiastically. “Max says I need to work on my fingerpicking so I can’t promise it’ll be all that good.”

Joel rolls his eyes.

“Show me what you’ve got.”

***

You sit down on the couch right next to Joel, each of you holding your respective guitars in hand, across your laps. 

Joel looks ecstatic to have his guitar back in his hands. He fiddles with the tuning and finger-picks a faint melody.

“Haven’t played one since the prison band. But then some dumb motherfucker clobbered another sorry son of a bitch to death with a saxophone so that ended our music privileges,” Joel explains. 

“Jeez,” you reply.

Joel is sitting so close you can feel his body heat. You just want to hear him sing, but he insists on hearing you.

“Joel,” you try as innocently as possible. “D’you remember how to do an A-flat? I forget and I need it for my song.”

“Sure, baby. Lemme help ya. Now put one finger on this bit of the 4th fret here,” he begins, snaking a big arm around your shoulders so he can maneuver your fingers to the correct position. 

His touch is electric. He feels so good and warm. You feel the intense urge to climb into his lap and embrace and stay there forever. His big caloused hand full of scars places your fingers correctly for the chord. The same hand that must have jerked himself to completion last night…You can’t help but wonder how much cum there was…The truth is, you know how to make an A-flat. You just wanted to feel him.

He backs away and you whine internally at the loss.

“There we go,” he says soothingly, reaching out to rub your shoulder. “That one can be tricky. Now where is my performance?”

Your nerves are squirming around inside you but you begin to play and sing to the best of your ability. 

You look into Joel’s eyes.

♪“ You've got a heart on fire / It's bursting with desire / You've got a heart filled with passion /  Will you let it burn for hate or compassion?” ♫ you sing. 

Joel watches you intently, sitting up straighter. 

♪ “What's the point with a love / That makes you hate and kill for? ♪

You sing as best and as seriously as you can. You look up and think you maybe see a tear in Joel’s eye.

When you finish, it’s clear Joel is finding it hard to select the right words to convey what he’s feeling. 

“I–” he tries. “That was…well, let me just show you how I can answer that if anyone ever could to a performance as beautiful as that.”

You blush. 

He begins to finger-pick a familiar tune, Instantly, you are transported back to eight years old in the back of Joel’s old pickup truck, listening to one of his many cassette tapes. It’s “I’ll Never Find Another You” by The Seekers. The original version of the song is pretty happy and upbeat, but the way Joel sings it slowly in his deep and weathered voice makes you feel sad and achy inside. The emotion behind his voice is palpable.

♪ “But if I should lose your love, dear / I don't know what I'd do / For I know I'll never find another you / Another you / Another you…” ♫ he trails off.

It’s your turn to tear up a little. It’s crazy to know he means every word he’s singing too. He sings like every word is his last breath. When he finishes you are crying a little.

“You oughta record an album,” you sniffle, leaning into his shoulder, throwing him a side hug.

“Wanted to be a singer,” he replies with a small grin, leaning his head against yours. “Back when I was young.” 

You sit back up straight.

“You did? I never knew that.”

“Don’t tell nobody really,” Joel replies, looking a bit sad you left his immediate proximity. “Just a stupid dream ‘n all that crap.”

“‘S not stupid,” you tell him. “You really have a beautiful voice, Joel. It’s like if I could take it, hold on to it, and keep it forever in my chest pocket next to my heart, I would.”

“That’s where I keep you, baby,” he tells you honestly.

He reaches up a big hand to yours and guides your own to place it right on his heart over his plaid shirt. You can feel it beating steadily below your palm to the rhythm of something as delicate and ferocious as the beating of butterfly wings.

“Right here.”

***

You take Joel shopping. At his insistence it is nothing fancy, just the local department store. That doesn’t stop you from dressing Joel up in ridiculous outfits of your choosing. You make him try on a Hawaiian shirt, some golf polos like your dad liked to wear, a pinstripe suit and he lets you because saying no to you has never been in his vocabulary. He acts grumpy on the outside, but you can tell he is amused. You know in the end, you’ll just end up buying every flannel shirt and jeans combo they have in the store, but it’s just fun anyway. You watch the fabric hug his torso, his tummy, the slight bulge at his waist. At one point he comes out shirtless and you try very hard not to swoon as you stare at the hair lining his chest and his adorable little tummy that you for some reason have the urge to bite. The band of his Hanes boxers sticks up past his jeans and he looks so good. He even lets out a genuine smile. The middle-aged sales attendant who is helping you even takes a good look at him which makes the butterflies inside you swarm possessively. 

Finally, you make him try on a proper white-collared button-down shirt and black dress pants with matching black shoes and he looks so good you’re actually at a loss for words when he asks you what you think. They hug the curves and lines and planes of his body so nicely. All you can do is ask him to put on a black tie to match and he does at your behest following some customary griping that he would never wear such a monkey suit in the first place. The effect that a fully dressed-up Joel has on you is not one to be reckoned with. He might as well be wearing the men’s version of lingerie for how it makes you throb and ache between your legs. He looks like a force of nature, commanding and tall. It makes you weak. All you say is,

“Looking good, old-timer.”

He snorts.

When you finally ditch all the fun clothes and grab the essentials, Joel offers to go pick up the car while you pay. He tries to give you his eight-year-old credit card, but you insist on treating him on the condition he buys the “monkey suit.” After a bit of prodding, he gives in and you go to the sales attendant to pay at the counter. 

“Your dad is really cute,” the sales attendant giggles to you as she rings up the pile of clothes. 

Your cheeks go a bit red. You don’t really care enough to correct her.

“He’s my guy,” is all you say absentmindedly as you fish out your wallet from your purse.

The sales attendant hands you the receipt and on it, you see a scrawled phone number.

“For If he’s single,” she explains. “I’m Barb from sales.”

You look her over. She’s close to Joel’s age and conventionally pretty with long brown hair. The exact kind of woman Joel should be dating should he choose to get back in the game. Your stomach twists and the butterflies howl inside you.

You take the receipt, thank her, and join Joel back in the car (who is more than happy to be driving this time). 

“What took so long?” he asks casually. “You two writing a novel in there?”

You think seriously about what you should do. You consider letting the bugs have their way and tearing the receipt with Barb’s number on it to shreds. But you want good things for Joel. The chance of you two ever being together the way you wish is so far-fetched that you know you shouldn’t even be thinking it. A literal pipe dream. He was your stepdad for christsakes. He literally fucked your mother! (Gross!). Barb is exactly the kind of woman Joel should be going after if he’s up to dating right now. You hand him the receipt begrudgingly. 

“Sales Lady likes you,” you sat flatly. “Name is Barb.”

“Oh,” he says softly like he’s a bit flattered. 

He looks back at her through the glass door of the store and she waves at him. He waves back politely. You feel your stomach twisting into knots. 

“You think…you think you’re gonna call her?” you finally ask as casually as humanly possible, dreading the answer. 

Joel looks over at you, his gaze sweeping over you. Then looks back at Barb through the window. He looks her up and down.

“Nah,” he says with a smirk, looking back at you. “She ain’t my type. Only need one girl in my life right now anyways,” he winks.

Was that Joel flirting? With you?

Regardless, you smile back and then sigh in relief and grin to yourself as you two drive away. 

Much to your satisfaction, Joel crumples up the receipt and throws it out the window for good measure. 

***

You get ready for dinner, to go to a nice Mexican-Japanese fusion restaurant that Max picked out. You wear a red dress that accentuates your figure and matching heels and to your shock, Joel reemerges from the bathroom in the white button-down shirt and black dress pants you picked out for him (you had been sure flannel would be part of his ensemble). God, he looks good. A part of you wants to ditch Max and just stay here with Joel forever. He looks you over, his dark eyes sweeping over your frame. You think there is a tinge of possessiveness in his voice when he says,

“ Christ, you look beautiful, babygirl.”

***

You arrive before Max and sit down at the fancy white table-cloth-covered table next to Joel, a booth facing you. Max finally makes an appearance a half hour late and sits down across from you, sweeping his hair out of his face, sliding into the booth. Joel is frowning and the butterflies beat their wings inside you nervously.

“Sorry I’m late,” Max announces, puffing out his chest a little and smoothing out his collared shirt as he looks down at his watch and then over at Joel. “Hey, baby,” he says to you. Then, “And, uh, nice to meet you. Joe, was it? Heard a lot about you.”

“Joel,” Joel replies flatly, eyeing Max.

Max is a good-looking guy, everyone says so, but he looks more like a little boy than you’ve ever thought as he squirms uneasily in his seat under Joel’s unrelenting gaze and launches into a tirade about his frat’s inter-mural lacrosse team practice and how his team should have totally won the scrimmage and that’s why he’s late. And of course, he was the one to score the most goals.

“And the taxi cab driver was a nightmare. Only spoke Spanish. It’s like, if you come to this country speak fucking English, am I right?”

You notice Joel’s jaw tighten and his fingers clench. 

“Max, that’s so rude!” you tell him, frowning. “We’re at a fucking Mexican restaurant!”

“Anyway,” Max continues, rolling his eyes at the interruption like he barely even heard you, smirking. “Where’d you go to school? What do you do for work, Joel?  Besides making license plates, I mean. Kidding!” he insists as you stare daggers at him. 

Joel leans forward ever so slightly but you slip your leg over his to hold him back and he calms down a fraction. It’s like when you touch him, everything tense in him melts away. 

Joel sits up straighter in his chair and looks at you, stretching his arm across the back of your seat protectively like it’s a casual thing and not an unconscious sign of possessiveness.

“I’m a mechanic,” he grunts unceremoniously to Max. “I mean, I was anyways…Didn’t go to school.”

Max frowns ever so slightly. 

“You didn’t go to college? You must’ve gone to trade school at least?”

“Nope. Picked up what I know over the years. Not everyone gets a free ride from their parents,” Joel smirks.

“Free ride?” Max snaps. “I’ll have you know I spend every summer interning at a law firm!”

“Yeah, your dad’s,” you can’t help but snicker.

Max’s cheeks turn a bit pink.

“At least I’m not a psych major,” he shoots back. “I mean, no offense, babe!”

“What’s wrong with psychology?” Joel snarls, his eyes darkening. “You ought to be proud to have such a thoughtful and intelligent girl like Y/N studying such a topic.”

It’s your turn for your cheeks to go pink. 

“Joel–”

“Who said I wasn’t?” Max sneers. 

That makes you feel a bit better. 

“I’m just saying, she could have inherited the second-best law firm in the tri-state area from her pops if she was pre-law like me,” he smirks.

Your smile fades, used to hearing this kind of shit from him. He knows you and your father don’t get along at all, but not the full extent of it. He also knows you don’t have an interest in pre-law. But you swallow down how you really feel.

“It’s fine, Joel,” you tell him, placing a hand down on his thigh.

It’s not that you enjoy the way Max has been talking to you, but you are so used to it from the men in your life that it feels like the common denominator must be you. And sometimes it feels like maybe they have some kind of point. And fighting back only makes things worse. You’ve learned that over the years the hard way.

“It’s not fine!” he snaps like he’s trying to get you to see sense, looking deeply insulted on your behalf. Your heart thunders in your chest. “This boy has never worked an honest day in his life and he’s telling you what you ought to be doing? Bet his hands are soft as a baby’s ass. He doesn’t know shit about you, babygirl.”

You may not know the hardship of labor that Joel has taken on in his life, but your hands are not smooth. They are full of scars. And Joel is right. Max’s are soft like silk. You look down at the most prominent, ugly scar on your middle finger. You don’t even know which man in your life gave it to you. But you do know it means something. Shows you survived something. Survived your stupid father too, not that Max seems to care.

But Max never loses. 

“Whatever,” he smirks dismissively. “Sorry I’m not some, like, common blue-collar worker. But I guess I should be taking advice from someone who became a fucking convicted felon ‘cause they drank too much one night,” he shrugs with a terrible sneer.  

You know it’s over then.

But Joel surprises you. Doesn’t immediately strangle Max like you thought he might. Simply stands up tall and silent over Max’s frame which has suddenly begun to shake ever so slightly in obvious fear, his blue eyes widening. Joel’s fists are clenched tightly at his sides. 

“Wouldn’t mind them sendin’ me right back in, ” Joel growls low. “Drunk or not.”

You shiver and Max positively cowers. 

“Got something to say? Don’t wanna take it outside?” Joel leers, smirking ever so slightly at the trembling boy before him. “I’d even let a little boy like you take the first swing.”

“Your stepdad’s a freak, Y/N,” Max stammers, not taking his eyes off of Joel. 

“Joel, it’s fine, okay?” you growl, not wanting him to actually hurt your boyfriend. Let alone in public! “Shouldn’t talk about Joel like that though, Max! Jesus!”

“Babe, I’m sorry, okay?” Max tries, eyeing back and forth between you and Joel. “I’m just trying to look out for you. I don’t get what you see in him with a real Dad like yours! Your dad has so much to give you!”

Look out for you? So much to give you? What could he possibly give besides a stupid law firm and two black eyes? 

Max looks a bit desperate. Him apologizing for anything is actually a new concept for you. Your heart twitches ever so slightly. He must actually like you a lot. But Joel would never do anything to hurt you if it was in his power. At least not intentionally, unlike your real father. 

“That’s it. I’m leaving,” Joel snarls moodily, turning around. “Don’t want to do things I might regret to Mr.Future-Corporate-Lawyer over here. Have fun with him .”

Joel looks deeply hurt. Like you are choosing Max over him or something. That’s never what this has been about, has it? Doesn’t Joel know you’d do anything for him? That the hurt on his face hurts you more than anything you’ve ever felt. Ever.

“Joel, wait!” you decide and disappear after him, leaving Max behind at the table.

“Babe, what the fuck!?” Max yells, but you don’t care. “Come back here!”

***

You ride back in silence, Joel’s hands turning white against his grip on the steering wheel. 

When you break through to the front door of your apartment, Joel finally snaps, the anger on his face directed at something that feels like you for the first time in your life.

“You really love that little son of a bitch, don’t you?” he sneers, uncharacteristically harshly towards you. 

“So what if I did?” you shoot back, a little shocked. “It’s none of your business, Joel. What the fuck?”

“It is so my business,” he snaps back. “That kid is no good for you, Y/N. He doesn’t understand you. You deserve someone much better than that who will actually go to the ends of the earth for you. He wouldn’t do anything for you.”

There is a desperation and vulnerability in Joel’s words and tone that you’re not sure you’ve heard before. He sounds like he had been waiting the whole car ride to say this, maybe even his whole life. You aren’t sure.

“Max does give a shit about me,” you try to convince yourself, getting angrier. “I mean at least he was there for me while you were gone.”

Joel flinches.

“How do you know what’s so good for me and what’s not when you dipped out of my life for eight years?” you continue harshly. “Because why? It wasn’t because you were drunk, was it? It was because you couldn’t control your anger. You never could.”

He stares at you.

“I controlled it for you,” Joel says so quietly you almost miss it. “ You are the only reason I did any of it.”

“What?” you stammer, not sure you want to hear more. “W-what do you mean, Joel? Any of what?”

A million thoughts begin to run through your mind, but you push them aside. Theories about the case and your ideas of Joel’s true nature all threaten to drown you but you push them away.

“Do you want to know why I really killed that sick son of a bitch?” Joel asks dangerously after a long moment of silence. You stare at him, your body frozen. He looks down at his hands, flexing them like he can still feel them punching or around that disgusting man’s throat. “Why I killed him all those years ago? It was no accident, I’ll give you that. Manslaughter, my ass. I killed that scum of the Earth because he threatened you . To do terrible things to you with those disgusting hands of his. So I broke each one, but it wasn’t enough. I killed him because I didn’t want you to get hurt and because I didn’t want you to live in fear of him. I was tired, Y/N. Tired of being afraid for you in a world that doesn’t let you do shit except fight back. I loved you so much, Y/N, it hurt me. It scared me, but I couldn’t let him hurt you. I’d die before I let anyone hurt you again, not him, not your father, not Max, not anyone. You have to understand. I love –” 

And then it’s all over. You’re not sure who moves first, but you think it might be you. The butterflies are rustling and thundering and screeching inside you and you kiss him. And Joel kisses back, devouring your mouth in his. You grab the back of his graying brown hair and pull him as close to you as you think is humanly possible. He cradles the back of your head so gently you almost lose your breath. And you are kissing and kissing and kissing and kissing. There is nothing else in the universe except this kiss. You have never felt anything like this in your life. It is like every butterfly inside you has gone silent. It is like the world has stopped just for you and something new is forming inside you.

Joel killed that vile man for you. To keep you safe. Like he always said or showed that he would. He gave his life away for you. He did the unspeakable for you.

He bites down on your bottom lip and all your brain can manage to coherently think is: more, harder .

But then Joel is breaking away from you slowly.

NO! your heart cries out, the delicious pleasure and pain draining away from you. The butterflies swarm dangerously inside your chest, worse with every inch he travels from your lips.

“Joel,” you whine. “What? You…you don’t want–”

“Don’t even say that, Y/N,” he growls dangerously. “Of course I want you. How could I not? I have spent my entire life wanting you in some capacity, baby, but I ain’t no good for you either, alright? I…” he says slowly like it takes every inch of his body to agree to say this. “I am not a good man, Y/N. I never have been. I’ve done wrong in every chapter of my life. You deserve someone much better. I don’t want to hurt you. Physically or mentally. Our history… The damage I’ve done…” he trails off.

“You don’t understand,” you swallow, tears forming in your eyes. “You have already loved and hurt me more than any human being on planet Earth. And yet somehow there is nothing you could do that would keep me away from you, don’t you get that? The Joel Miller I love is not a good man and I don’t care. I want all of you. All of the pretty and crooked pieces you try to hide away from me. You killed a man with your bare hands, arguably one of the worst things a human can do, and I don’t care. I still want you, Joel. Maybe even more because of it. No one has ever loved me the way you do and that is the love I want and it terrifies me.”

A single tear falls down Joel’s right cheek. You reach up to wipe it away, but Joel grabs your hand on the way reflexively, so you help him wipe his own tears away. 

“I love you,” you whisper.

“I would move the Earth for you,” Joel whispers back.

“I know,” you nod. “I’ve always known. I–”

But he is kissing you again before you can say another word, like a man starved. You hold onto his cheeks, your fingers caressing his stubbly beard. 

“ Joel,” you whine when you break for air.

“I wanted this so badly,” he says softly, grinning a lopsided grin. “Can’t believe this is real.”

“Me too,” you giggle.

You have to lean up a bit, but you press your forehead to his gently.

“Oh, baby,” Joel smirks. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive, ya know that? You like

it when I go a little rough, honey?” he smirks down at you in satisfaction, reading your mind.

You have to stop yourself from getting lost in the warm pools of his brown eyes, your panties soaked.

He reaches an affectionate hand down to rub your side softly.

“This okay, babygirl?” he coos, massaging his hand down your torso.

“I’d let you do anything to me, don’t you know?” you snicker. “Pain or pleasure, it’s all the same to me. I like all of that. I just want you so bad.”

“Think a safe word is in order,” Joel grins, leaning down to kiss your neck. “How about ‘butterflies?’” you suggest. 

“Sounds good to me, baby,” he grins, looking genuinely happy for the first time in hours. 

He leans down and places a calloused hand around your throat, not squeezing (yet – you hope) and plants soft kisses and bites down your expanse of skin. 

“All mine,” he mutters into your skin. “My beautiful babygirl.”

You feel his erection pressing against you through his black dress pants which makes you moan softly.

His hand trails over your crotch and he starts rubbing over the tight fabric of your red dress.

“That okay?”

“Yes,” you whine. “Want more, Daddy.”

Oh shit. You don’t mean to say it like that! You know it is about ten levels of fucked up to call Joel that, but how is it your fault that in every fantasy that’s how you think of him? You figure you’re probably past the point of weird and every other standard of decency, but you’re still afraid.

“Sorry…” you mumble. “I–”

“No, no, baby,” Joel says quickly. “It’s alright, you can call me whatever you want. I don’t mind, sweetheart.”

“You think it’s weird,” you mumble again, further stupid tears forming in your eyes.

He snickers. 

“Baby, I think we’re beyond weird at this point. Let me show you how turned on it makes me.”

Joel takes your hand and places it on his crotch. He takes your left hand, the one with the scar and you cringe a little, but he is rock-hard.

That’s good because you’re positively drenched.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. Daddy likes that more than you know, alright?”

You take your hand back, smiling, but you cover your scarred finger, shocked he will allow this fantasy for you.

“Whatcha hidin’ from me, baby?” he asks, noticing the positioning of your hands.

“I hate that scar on my finger. ‘S so ugly,” you admit.

Joel looks flabbergasted. 

“That’s the last damn thing I think of when I look at you. Ugly? Who in the fuck told you that?”

“How it got there is ugly. It’s marred skin, looks gross,” you mumble.

Joel moves to take out his cock, and when you nod he unzips and unbuttons his dress pants, pulling out his length. You have fantasized about his cock for god knows how long so you are more than excited to see it. He reaches to place your left hand with the scarred fingers around the length of his dick, which is thick, but longer than you expected. The leaking head is almost purple and your mouth begins to water as you stroke him gently.

“It’s part of you,” Joel tells you, his eyes connecting with yours. “I love it. It shows you survived. Gonna jerk off to it, Daddy loves it so much. And when I’m done you’re gonna love it too. Swear I’ve got so many over the years I can barely even count ‘em. Even got a few on my middle finger. Maybe even one from a certain guitar pick you made me. Nothing like that could ever make me stop wanting you, ya know that, right?”

You smile and take your time stroking him, wanting to show him how much you love and care for him, scars and all.

He grunts softly, closing his eyes, but then shoos your hand away with a feverish kind of want. 

“Yeah, touch yourself now, baby. Daddy wants to see how wet you are for him. With that scarred finger. C’mon, now. ‘S gonna make you feel so good.”

You do as you’re told and reach down underneath your dress and begin to touch yourself, especially with your middle finger. You stroke your clit and then your dripping wet slit. You moan softly as Joel’s eyes rake over you, taking in every sigh and groan you emit. The butterflies are forming something big inside you, which presses against the inside of your tummy and ribcage.

“Daddy,” you whine.

“Enough, little one,” Joel whispers. 

He takes out your hand and begins to suck the slick off of each of your fingers, groaning deeply, making intense eye contact the whole time.

“Fuck, angel,” he moans, having a tough time keeping himself together, you can tell. “Taste and smell better than like how I pictured. Like you were fuckin’ made for me, I swear.”

He reaches a hand of his own down to stroke himself and his moans become more desperate. Finally, he sucks on your middle finger covered in your slick and groans so deeply you feel like you might cum untouched. He stares into your eyes. 

“ Mine, ” he growls possessively. “Oh, shit! Gonna–”

Then he takes your left hand and leads it to meet his throbbing cock. You stroke him, harder this time, fisting his thick length, moaning softly and that does it for him.

Joel cums all over your hand, oozing white globs of cum over your fingers, once, twice, three times. 

“Fuuuuuck, babygirl,” he groans. “Oh, shit, I’m so sorry! Couldn’t help it. Yeah, suck it off, baby. That’s it,” he commands, and you do, licking up all of his cum, even the part that got on your middle finger. 

When Joel comes down he still looks half-crazed with desire.

“Sorry about the, uh, early release. It’s been a while since anyone touched me,” he babbles in embarrassment, his cheeks flushed pink. “But I don’t wanna hear shit about your gorgeous hands ever again, you hear me, babygirl?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you nod, snickering. 

He looks like that one word has set his entire universe back in order again. You honestly don’t care at how fast Joel came. You love how much it shows he wants you. And his heady taste is making you weak. You could taste him for days and days and never get tired, you’re sure.

“Can still get you off though, don’t worry. Shoulda let you cum first, but I couldn’t help it with the things you do to me. Goddamn. Can Daddy eat your pussy, baby?”

You grin, but then your face falls. 

“Didn’t shave,” you admit, feeling dirty. 

Max hates your hair down there.

Joel looks at you in confusion.

He laughs, his face scrunching up.

“Oh, sweetheart. You think I care about that? Only little boys give a shit about things like that. Not men.”

You shiver.

“Really?”

“Of course I don’t care. Didn’t ya hear what I just said? C’mon now. You can lie down on the couch.”

You follow instructions, pulling your dress over your head to reveal white lace panties and no bra. 

You move to take the panties off, but Joel stops you, staring at the lines and curves of your body. 

“Jesus, fuck,” he growls, taking you in.

You think you see his cock twitch ever so slightly. He palms his softening length instinctively.

“Beautiful,” he snarls, pushing you back on the sofa. 

You happily fall backward. 

He lies on top of you, his white button-down shirt pressing against your naked body tantalizingly. 

He bites your lips roughly and you groan against him.

“Daddy’s mouth,” he commands against you.

“Yeah, duh, Daddy,” you snicker.

As if he even needs to say it! 

He kisses down your neck expertly and you begin to shiver and whine, your pussy aching with need and neglect.

He stops at your breasts, sucking and biting each one.

“Daddy’s tits,” he declares, snaking a finger over the lace panties that protect your clit. “Of course,” you respond, moaning softly, grinding needily against him.

He continues lower, licking down your breasts and over your tummy which he plants with kisses that tickle and then one hard bite on your hip that leaves behind teeth marks.

“Daddy’s body,” he impresses upon you.

“Yes, Daddy. Only yours.”

“No more of that little shithead, Max,” he snarls, an inch above your clit.

“No more Max,” you repeat as he presses kisses down your pussy, still covered by soaked white lace panties. 

“Only Daddy.”

“Only you.”

“Good girl,” he growls.

He finally removes your panties and begins to eat and suck your clit and pussy so hard and enthusiastically, swirling his tongue around your bundles of nerves that you grow exponentially closer by the second.

“Joel,” you whine. “Oh my God.”

It doesn’t take long. The second his calloused hand is pressing a finger and then two inside of you it’s over. You were so needy for him that you could have even cum from just his mouth alone, but his hands are what send you over the edge. And something different happens as orgasm crashes down upon you. The butterflies all join together and transform into something bigger and softer, caressing your insides, cooing. It feels like a breathing white dove is spreading its wings inside you, the tips of its feathers brushing against your rib cage. And you cum harder than you ever have in your life. 

Pleasure engulfs you in currents, facilitated by the gentle flapping from deep

inside your body.

“ Joel,” you moan. “Oh my God. Daddy, pleaseee–”

“Please what, baby? Make my princess cum again? I would eat that pretty little clit and

pussy every day for the rest of my life if I could, fuck. God, so perfect and you’re so fuckin’ tight. Look how fucking hard you make me, angel.”

He takes one of your hands and places it on his half-hardening cock. Not going to lie, you are partially shocked at his recovery, but another part of you seems to know that if there was anyone in the universe that could do that to him it had to be you. 

“Never got hard again from anyone I’ve ever fucked before…” he trails off dreamily like he can read your thoughts. “You’re so gorgeous, babygirl.”

“Not so bad yourself, handsome,” you tell him lazily, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth as you pull him closer to you. 

The heat from his body keeps you so warm and tender and for a moment you lie on the couch, Joel’s still-clothed body pressed to yours.

“Can you fuck me, Joel?” you ask, squirming against him needily.

“You can’t say that shit to me, baby,” Joel groans, his cock getting harder. “Not quite ready yet.”

“Lemme help you out,” you offer, pouting. 

You reach down and stroke his half-hard length and then bend over and press a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock.

Joel swears, staring down at you with so much adoration it pours off his face. No man has ever looked at you like that before. You’re certain. Perhaps no man ever will again? Not like that.

“Shit, baby,” Joel babbles stupidly, his eyes threatening to swallow you up in that beautiful shade of umber. “Never gonna forget this moment,” he grunts as you begin to suck his cock properly, feeling it slowly get hard enough to throb between your lips with each thrust of your head and gluck of your throat. 

You stare up at him, your eyes wide and wanting and Joel lets out a soft, vulnerable moan as you begin to really suck him and take him down the walls of your throat.

“ Unh , babygirl, fuck,” he whines and you have never quite heard Joel so desperate before. “Gotta pull out or I’m gonna cum. Holy fuck.” 

It sounds just like it did the night you accidentally spied on him jerking off. 

“You’ve been thinking about me a lot, huh, Daddy?” you ask, releasing Joel from your mouth like he wanted, though his hips buck forward ever so slightly with desire, the tip of his cock just barely scraping against your mouth. He grunts.

“Maybe so,” he replies, looking a little guilty. “Don’t know how not to these days.”

“Heard you on the couch last night,” you whine yourself. “Had to touch myself ‘cuz of it, Daddy. I’m sorry.”

Joel reaches out a hand to cup your crotch and rub against your slick pussy.

“That’s so fuckin’ naughty, baby,” he groans. “Look how wet that made you. All for me.”

You steal a glance at his cock and find that the tip is weeping too. And he is so fucking big compared to the size of your hand. Fuck!

“You were thinking about me, weren’t you?” you whisper.

“All about you, baby,” Joel nods in agreement, his hips twitching ever so slightly. “‘Bout touching you just like this.”

He slinks two big fingers inside you and you moan deliciously, the feathery wings of the newly-formed dove fluttering against your insides. 

“Gotta stretch you a bit more,” he grunts into your throat, pushing in a third finger. “Daddy’s so big and you’re so tight, angel. Don’t wanna hurt ya. Not too bad at least. Not yet…That’s it, pretty girl, fuck,” he grins when you slide back on his thumb in pleasure which had traveled to the rim of your asshole “Good girl, so good for Daddy. So naughty too. Don’t think Daddy won’t punish you.”

“Want you to hurt me, Daddy,” you moan. “When you fuck me. Please fuck me hard. I want all of you – pain and pleasure. One hundred percent Joel. Joel, please, I need–” 

And Joel does stop for a moment.

“Never hurt you in a way you didn’t beg for,” he tells you seriously. “You know that right, baby?”

You stop your rutting against him and look into his eyes.

“Are you kidding? You would protect me with your dying breath. I know that, Joel. Never been afraid of you since I’ve really known you. Not once. I mean: fuck; you gave up your whole life for me. To keep me safe, for fuckssake. In every word you say and don’t say to me I can feel how much you love me.”

 “I do love you so much, babygirl,” he whispers, nuzzling your forehead. “If I had to, I’d do all of it all over again if it meant I’d get you. I’ve made mistakes, big ones, but protecting you, loving you was never one of them.” 

Warm tears trail down your cheeks, but Joel licks and kisses them away. 

“Wanna feel me inside you?” he asks. “Don’t wanna go too fast, but I need you, baby. Needed you for so long…Sweet little pussy’s just cryin’ for Daddy, huh? Gonna fit me just like a glove, I just know it — if you wanna…”

“Yes, please, fuck me, Daddy! Please, Joel Wanna feel you—ah!” you moan as Joel shoves his entire length into your pussy in one hard thrust eagerly. “Oh my God, please fuck me harder!” you moan, reeling from the deep blend of pain and pleasure of him sinking inside you, clenching down around the thickness of him. “Joel, please!”

He pauses, sweat glistening on his brow, sneering.

“You really want harder?”

You shiver. The way he says that makes your heart beat wildly in your ears.

“Because babygirl, I would treat you like porcelain if you want it so. I will never hurt you, my angel, my gift from god, my goddamn sweetest heart please know I will break my fucking hands before they would hurt you, before I would ever hurt you in a way that you didn’t want, no matter how much it hurt me. Do you understand me?”

“Of course, Joel. But you want it too,” you smirk. “You aren’t innocent in this, are you?”

“Fuck, of course i’m not innocent. I want you, babygirl. In every way there is to want another. Want every inch of you, inside and out. Wanna mark you up so the world knows you’re mine, honey. Want everyone to smell me on you and know I marked you, moved in you, darlin’, please, see, I’m no fucking Hemingway, I didn’t go to college, I’m not like you with words, but I need you to understand that I mean this with my whole chest and heart. Really, I’m not a big talker, never was, babygirl, but I need you to understand I—”

  “I do, you dumbass fucking fool!” you shout, giggling at his desperation. “I’d understand you even if you were speaking another language. You’ve made your intentions loud and clear. I don’t want a Hemingway, I want Joel Miller!”

You pull him in for a kiss and he thrusts in you again a second time and you end up moaning clumsily in his mouth, but you can feel him smiling , smiling like some dumb idiot against you and maybe you called him the correct insult because he is a dumbass fucking fool for you. And it turns out you must be one as well because you are smiling like an idiot for him too.

“ Joel,” you moan as he begins to move inside you, hitting deep places that Max or any of your previous exes never went. Pleasure is tracing itself along the line of your stomach. “Oh my god, I love you so much,” you babble and you’ve never meant that more than you do now.

You can feel Joel coming apart above you, plowing into you, sighing deeply. His grunts and moans and thrusts spur on the intense pleasure. 

“More!” you moan. “Oh my god. Harder, please, I need–”

Joel plants rough bites on your neck and kisses too like he’s trying to consume every inch of you. 

He places a large hand around your throat questioningly and you nod.

“Beg for it,” he commands in his deep, sexy voice — the voice that’s been in every wet dream you’ve ever had. You think you might just pass out from the sound alone. 

“Choke me, Daddy,” you whine as pathetically as you possibly can, batting your eyes. “Oh, please, I could cum from just this, but I want more. More of you. All of you.”

“As you fuckin’ wish, baby,” he snickers in amusement. “Bet no little boy ever fucked you like this, huh?” he growls, continuing his rough pace, slamming against your walls, his eyes growing wild.

“They don’t compare to you, Joel. It’s always been you. In every orgasm. Fuck, never felt like this! Shit! Shit!”

Joel reaches out his large scarred hand and applies gentle delicious pressure to your throat. You know even something like this can be dangerous, but you crave that feral look of violence in his eyes and the power that comes with it. You want him to own you completely – every inch of you. You want him to mark you just like he said he wanted to because he is yours and you are his and has it ever really been any other way? You can’t remember properly from the pleasure rushing through you, the white dove inside you spreading and fluttering its wings, cooing softly. You think it’s only ever been what you feel now.

“Joel, Joel, fuck!” you scream, orgasm building in you.

“I know, babygirl. I know,” he coos himself into your mouth.

He pulls you closer, presses his nose to yours, his lips to yours, biting and kissing like a starving man possessed. He looks into your eyes and it’s there! That look of pure predator closing in on its prey, that look of ownership but also the most intense love you think you’ve ever witnessed. You would recognize that look anywhere. Your starved brain cries out for oxygen beneath his iron grip. 

“Gonna cum again, angel,” Joel growls. “Gonna make you cum so hard you’re never gonna forget who you belong to. Whose pretty pussy this is.”

He is pounding so hard against your cervix and his dick is so big inside you and the pressure of his hand squeezing around you is so overwhelming and the scent of him could make you faint straight then and there, but you let go and feel yourself cumming in enormous waves as you squeeze down around Joel’s prick, the pleasure more intense than any single bodily experience you’ve had.

“ Daddy ,” you whine breathlessly, tears trickling out of your eyes. “Oh my god!”

“You’re mine, babygirl, always have been–FUCK!” he shouts into your throat, collapsing on top of you.

And then you feel him starting to empty himself inside you, painting your sensitive insides with trustful after trustful of hot cum. You’ve never felt so helplessly full and sticky in your life, the brilliant pleasure billowing through every inch of you. You want to feel like this every day, stuffed full of Joel’s cock, so close to him you can feel his heartbeat against yours, the one true place you belong. 

“So beautiful, babygirl,” he whispers in an exhausted type of awe.

When your words come back you reply,

“Shut up, you’re the hot one,” through a snicker. 

You look down at your body, covered in purple bite marks and bruises forming like galaxies across your body. 

Joel snorts. Then he sits up on the couch and you lean your cheek against him. You lean up to kiss his cheek and he blushes ever so slightly.

“I said a lot of stuff, Y/N, but I want you to know that I meant all of it,”

“Yeah, you probably said more in the last hour than you’ve ever uttered in your entire life,” you tease, sitting up.

“I’m serious,” he snickers.

“I am and was too,” you nod. “I’m so glad that you’re here with me — that we did this. I know that our…origin story is weird and unconventional and some might argue straight up wrong, but I need you, Joel. I don’t care about that or think I could go back to pretending to be what we were.”

“You think I’d want you to act like that?” he asks incredulously. “You think I want this to just be a one-time thing?”

“Of course not,” you smirk. “But as close as we are I can’t actually read your mind. I mean…how are we going to be together realistically?”

“I’m not sure,” Joel admits, frowning a little. “For now it has to be a secret unless you want your mother or brother in jail for murdering me this time around. But someday, I dunno. It’s dumb…”

“What?”

“I just have these thoughts sometimes about you ‘n me. I…” Joel’s cheeks turn a bit pink. “Had a lot of time to think in prison, you know? And I’d Imagine us living on a ranch somewhere quiet out in the country with a flock of sheep. I could work at the tractor and auto-body repair shop that’d be out there, you know, in this dream of mine, and you could be a counselor at a local school if that’s what ya wanted. I don’t know, l know it sounds silly, but nobody would know or bother us there. But I want you to finish school and have the best life possible, babygirl. I’d wait a thousand years for you, but if you didn’t want me anymore the way we are now, I’d respect that. And if you’d allow it, I’d still be there for you just in a platonic sense — or just there for you however you want because I can’t imagine my life with you in it. I’d do whatever it takes, brokenhearted or not. I just can’t be separated from you like that again. A day longer in prison and I could’ve keeled over and died. And it’s crazy how much I mean that.”

“I don’t ever want to be separated from you again, Joel,” you agree. “I know the original plan was for you to find work and get an apartment of your own and I would love for that to still happen, but with you being intimate with me in every way – even if it has to be a secret. I don’t pretend to know what the future holds, but I need you in mine. I’ve never needed something more than I need that. Understand?”

Joel pulls you into a hug and leans his chin on the top of your head. He kisses it then your forehead. You lean up and plant a kiss on his throat and then his Adam’s apple.

“Don’t mean to get too ahead of ourselves now. We can take things a day at a time,” he mumbles into your skin.

You yawn contentedly, the tiredness clawing at your eyes, so unbelievably spent.  

“I like hearing about your dreams and I’d go anywhere with you, Joel. But I am kinda dead from how good you just fucked me. Take me to bed?” You ask exhaustedly into his chest.

“Of course, babygirl,” he smirks down at you.

***

You don’t let go of Joel all night long, burrowed up against his chest, his heartbeat against your ear. And he doesn’t let go of you either. After the most intimate night of cuddles and snuggling you’ve ever experienced as well as the deepest and most restful sleep you’ve had in ages, you wake up to Joel gone from the bed. You frown, having wanted more than anything to wake up in his strong arms. Fear grips your insides as you wonder if he finally realized last night was a mistake and that you were never meant to be together in the first place (what you fear more than anything). A stupid vulnerable tear comes to your eye, but then you cock your head and hear music playing. Guitar music. 

You think of your apartment as shitty, but truthfully you care deeply about your little private space and one of the things you do actually love the most about it is the tiny balcony that overlooks a measly courtyard and part of the city. That’s where you find Joel in the deck chair holding his guitar, strumming it lazily.

“Mornin’, beautiful,” he says, fingerpicking a melody that scratches at the back of your mind with familiarity. 

“Morning, handsome,” you tell him softly, plopping your smaller hand down on his shoulder. 

The city hasn’t woken up yet, the soft glow of morning shining beams of light onto you and Joel, filling you with warmth. You sit down in the deck chair next to him, bathing in the sunlight.

“Whatcha playing?” you ask curiously, crouching to sit up on your knees.

“You know the song ‘Hallelujah’ by Leonard Cohen?” Joel asks in that beautifully deep voice of his. 

He isn’t even singing yet but you could listen to him forever. 

“‘Course,” you nod. “It’s a classic. You used to play it for me once in a blue moon.”

“Know what the word ‘Hallelujah’ actually means?” he asks. 

You think about it for a second.

“It’s about praising god and all that, right? Why d’you ask?”

He pauses, both his words and fingerpicking. 

“Babygirl,” he begins and you can tell he’s about to say something serious. “You know I’m not too good with words, but I need you to know this: I’ve never had much to thank god for in my life, except for Sarah, you know? But then He took her away…”

You place your hand on Joel’s and he looks at you sadly, but appreciatively. He flips it over and holds it in his giant paw of his own marked-up hand. 

“And I was so fucking angry. Nothing left in me. The only good part of me gone. I was a broken man. And I hated Him. But then He, despite the shit I’ve done…He gave me you . And I know our road hasn’t been easy or fair, and the pain you’ve felt and I have felt but…I guess what I’m trying to say is you are the reason I believe that any type of…goodness— of holiness— can exist in this universe. And I’m not a religious man, I don’t believe in most of that dogmatic type of shit, and I don’t think you do either, but I do think someone or something is up there and I wanna thank them for you. Does that make sense? Do you wanna hear what I mean? I just feel so damn grateful.”

A tear you hadn’t noticed was there rolls down your cheek. 

“Of course it does and of course I do,” you tell him.

You think perhaps this is the closest thing he can do to bearing his soul to you. 

And then he leans over and kisses the tear away and begins to fingerpick the familiar melody.

♪ “I heard there was a secret chord…”♫

You listen to his deep weathered voice as the sun grows higher in the morning sky, casting both light and shadow over Joel’s wrinkled, handsome face. The light trails over you too. You feel the dove inside you cooing contentedly, dusting its wings gently against the edges of your insides. 

♪There's a blaze of light in every word / It doesn't matter which you heard / The holy or the broken Hallelujah…”♫

When he finishes he places his large, scarred, calloused hand in yours and you hold it between your own scarred fingers.

“Thank you, Joel,” you tell him, meaning every word. “I think there’s hope for us, you know? I don’t believe in hippie-dippie type stuff, but something in this universe did bring us together. And I’ll be forever grateful for that too, ya know?”

Joel squeezes your smaller hand, his big fingers engulfing yours as the dove coos louder inside you.

“Babygirl, you know that I ain’t a good man, or a rich and educated one like maybe you thought you’d end up with, but I am less of a broken one because of you and I’m never letting you go. If we’re together, I think we have a chance.”

A/n:PLEASE COMMENT LIKE REBLOG IM BEGGING IM PLEADING IM CRYING DID THE SMUT LIVE UP TO YOUR DREAMS????

PART 1

PART 3 (coming soon)

Violent Heart Masterlist

Full Masterlist of all my work

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[wordy-little-witch]

Unhinged hit take but imagine for a moment all the Doflamingo/Crocodile ideas being a thing, and Doffy finds out IN JAIL about Cross Guild. Mans is losing his SHIT okay, his ex left him for a CLOWN.

CROCODILE turned him and his business proposals down but partnered with THE CLOWN?!

Oh his brain cells are Gucci and Prada, bedazzled and flexed, he knows math and THIS? This math ain't mathing, buster.

So he escapes.

The hows are unimportant and also I don't care enough to flesh it out. It just Happens, okay?

So Doffy is free, no sock needed, and he beelines STRAIGHT to Karai Bari.

Well. He swings by a high end boutique first because he's bougie like that, but then he is THERE, okay?

So Doffy shows up and causes a Ruckus. Cross Guild Poly has, by this point, NOT been established, but Croc and Mihawk both have FEELINGS. Buggy is oblivious.

Doffy sees Croc having A Feeling and Assumes. After all, Crocodile rarely expresses any kind of emotion unless it's on purpose to this is completely mathing now. The clown must have SOMETHING going for him.

So Doffy Seduces The Clown. It's to prove a point, prove he's BETTER than Buggy, he's COOLER and more FASHIONABLE and he wears HEELS so obviously he is the best choice. He needs to understand his enemy.

Only... Buggy's actually pretty damn cute.

And also makes... really good noises. He's so responsive. And sensitive. And he's a masochist to boot, right up Doffy's ally. AND this clown has some SERIOUS stamina, holy stars.

The night ends with Doffy, exhausted, staring into space with Buggy curled up, head on his chest and covered in bite marks. He is still processing.

The next day, he wakes up and he finds Buggy in the little kitchenette, in an oversized shirt and thigh highs, making pancakes and bacon. The clown turns to him, smiles, greets him, offers coffee. Doffy gets breakfast and is left still kinda reeling even as Buggy babbles happily, shirt slipping off his shoulder slightly and revealing a bite mark there. The former warlord looks away, indignant at the tingling warmth if a blush, of all things, on his face.

He hates to admit that he can maybe see the appeal now.

But he still thinks the clown is using some kind of weird fucking clown magic. He's NEVER gotten so worked up after a transactional lay before.

Crocodile and Mihawk meanwhile are FROTHING because they each had a 37 step plan to woo the clown and the flamingo bastard jut swooped in out of prison and bedded him. That isn't fair. That's the opposite of fair.

Seeing Buggy limping the next day and Doffy still kinda out if it simply makes the two dark haired men want to claw out someone's eyes.

Buggy is a special brand of oblivious because he thought Doffy just wanted good time once, no biggie, he gets it. So when the feathered man sticks around, he's cool with it. He doesn't really get why the others are all weird about it though.

He also doesn't get why their ominous threats and off putting vibes have intensified either, but he's good at rolling with the punches.

He tells Shanks a much during their monthly i-don't-miss-you-i-hate-you-how-have-you-been talks.

Shanks tells him they like him.

He hangs up on the redhead. Then he calls Shaks again just to hang up once more, this time with passion.

Everyone's suffering.

[diaryofaprettyprincess]

i love your eddie works so much holy shit ?? could u maybe do one where innocent!reader gets her first bf & perv!stepbrother!eddie gets all mad & jealous and manipulates her into breaking up w him? + smut if it’s okay 🫶🏻 u can add anything & go as dark as u want tbh i don’t really have any limits

note: this was from a while ago im so sorry !! i hope you enjoy though hehe also sorry this is kinda bad LKDSJ

warnings: reader called eddie daddy once, stepcest, dark!eddie, dark material, penetration, smut, innocent!reader, kinda pervy eddie, stepbro!eddie munson, jealousy, threats, once again..DARK MATERIALLLLL if you dont like it, dont read it babe <3, pet names, reader's body type is kinda mentioned ('tiny' but i meant it referring to height), 6'4 eddie, shorter reader

--

just imagining when he finally meets your boyfriend.. (your mom and uncle wayne have already met him, and are out for their anniversary when eddie meets him).

eddie's all grumpy, smoking a cigarette and face to face with your boyfriend when your he puts out his hand for eddie to shake. eddie just grimaces slightly, blowing cigarette smoke in your boyfriend's face before knocking shoulders with him forcefully when he walks away to sit on the sofa, resting his combat-boot-cladded-feet on the coffee table; flicking the cigarette ashes towards your boyfriend--Tommy...

it's quiet and tense before you decide to break the silence, biting your bottom, glossed lip nervously; watching eddie stare daggers at Tommy as he takes a seat on the chair in front of the metal head that is lounging on the couch.

"i-I think i'm gonna get a water," ur voice is soft as ur eyes track ur stepbrother's actions--his body is laid back and relaxed, but his face is pointed and mean, eyes squinted slightly as though he is analyzing your nervous lover. "u-uhm..T-tommy would you like one?" you play with the hem of your floral sundress anxiously.

your boyfriend nods, thanking you and gulping slightly as he throws eddie a nervous chuckle--albiet lacking any actual humor.

with haste, you walk quickly to the kitchen.

eddie inspects tommy.

'jesus christ,' he thinks as he watches your apprehensive boyfriend's khaki-cladded leg bounce up and down rapidly. 'what the fuck does she see in this prick?'

eddie stays in his mind for a bit, anger coiling in his chest as he tightens his fist, his rings taut against his fingers as he takes another drag from his cigarette.

"s-so i uhm, i heard your in a band..pretty successful--i-i mean ur sister--"

"step sister," eddie corrects, and tommy watches as he takes his feet off of the coffee table, leaning forward as he flicks the excess ashes of the smoke once again towards the uneasy highschool boy before taking one last drag and then putting the cigarette out on the coffee table.

"r-right stepsister--she uhm, she said that it's getting pretty successful--ur band, i mean," tommy smiles nervously, clearing his throat. "uh, what's ur band called?"

"corroded coffin." your irritated stepbrother gravels. he's short with his answers, and tommy can tell he doesn't want to talk anymore. your boyfriend sighs through his nose with a pressed smile hinted on his lips before quickly glancing off to the side to silently pray that you are on your way back. thankfully, you are, with a bright smile and a small giggle to accompany you--along with the two glasses of water of course.

u stop in front of where eddie is sitting as your boyfriend stands, thanking you for the water and chugging it down, wiping his mouth off and setting it back down on the coffee table as you giggle airily, confused.

"dry throat." he tries to explain, clearing his throat again. no way is he going to admit your brother--or, step brother is scaring the ever living shit out of him. (even though it is blatantly obvious(..to everyone but yourself..))

before you can say anything eddie places his tattooed, ringed fingers under the cusp of your ass under your dress, gently running his fingers in a small pattern on the soft skin. "baby," he speaks, getting your attention immediately as your boyfriend stands there awkwardly. "d'you think you could get me some water too? it'd give me more time to have a little chat with tommy here."

tommy can't believe it! the way eddie changes his tone of voice so quickly. with you it was so soft and kind--so gentle and incredibly sacchrine. and what's with his hand up your skirt?

"sure, eddie!" you turn to tommy, excited. they must be getting along! "i'll be right back 'n then we can go, okay?"

when you leave and it's just tommy and eddie again, your stepbrother stands up, his height towering over your boyfriend's. he looks behind him to make sure you aren't near before curling his fingers slightly, a small c'mere floating from his lips.

tommy moves foward.

"look, man, i know we just met, but my stepsister means the world to me, okay? so 'm gonna give you a little advice," any hint of a lightness to eddie's voice--or his eyes dissappears in that moment, and tommy is very aware of how eddie's ringed hand is squeezing his shoulder--he can feel an anger that he's very scared of. "you do fucking anything to upset her, take advantage of her-- whatever the fuck it is, and i will fucking kill you. understand, thomas? she's too fuckin' kind and naiive to deal with douchebags like you..but because i'm feeling nicer today, i'm gonna give you a warning. if you use her--fuck her or kiss her, whatever--i'll find out, and i'll fuckin' slit your throat. we clear?" he growls as your boyfriend nods vehemently-- eddie's left hand squeezing your boyfriend's shoulder harshly before letting go as you walk in, a small smile flashing on your stepbrother's face as he thanks you, bending down lower and kissing your cheek as he wraps you up in an embrace, your head on his chest.

and because of how ' kind and naiive ' you are, you don't notice the way your boyfriend looks as though he's seen a ghost, his body stiff and uncomfortable.

---

OK NOW..

one night eddie is painting your toes a baby pink as you lie on his bed, admiring your freshly painted finger nails. eddie had gotten good at painting nails ever since you taught him how to do his own.

when he's finished, he kisses the top of your foot before delicately placing it back on his bed.

the metal head admires your soft features for a moment before speaking.

"sweetheart," he calls gingerly, "can i talk to you about something?"

you nod, a soft smile on your freshly glossed lips that smelt of cherries.

eddie gets off of his bed, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it as he speaks. "it's about that damn boyfriend of yours.."

your ears perk up at that as you sit up further. "what about him, eds?"

eddie blows out a silver river of smoke from his lips before deciding to put the butt out on his dresser. "well, you see baby, i don't like him very much."

you frown sadly, you thought your stepbrother liked him! or at least tolerated him..

eddie walks over, brushing some hair behind your ears. "why not, eds?"

"well, honey," he scoffs, squishing your cheeks together with his hand before kissing your forced pout and letting go, tattooed hand smoothing over your cheek. "he wouldn't treat you right..you trust me, don't you?"

you nod again, how could he ask such a thing?!

"'f course i do! I trust you more than anyone!"

the metal head smiles gently, eyes soft and kind as his thumb quirks over your bottom lip. "good, princess..that's good. cuz that means i know a lot more about things than you do..your cute little head sometimes doesn't understand stuff, now does it, puppy? you need someone to watch out for you, hm?"

you smile shyly, cheeks glowing a soft pink--flustered as you look down. eddie notices, because--of course he does. "no need to be embarrassed, princess, y'know that.." his voice is soft and alluring as you lean into his touch further, giggling bashfully. "yeahh..you know that. 's just i know what's best for you, n trust me when i say that boytoy of yours is a real fuckin' pussy."

you gasp, whining, "eddie, you promised! no more bad words!"

"right, right, i'm sorry, sweetheart. 's just-- i think this guy is not a good person, puppy.. n you don't want to be with someone that's bad for you, do you?"

ironic. but you're too oblivious to realize the ironicy because, well--he's holding you so gently, and he smells so good, and his touch is making your head dizzy and your body tingle!

but you shake your head, a cute little pout adorning your plump lips.

"that's what i thought. so tomorrow," eddie sits down against his headboard, pulling you in close and kissing your head. he wants this to really stick. "tomorrow you break up with him."

"b-but-!" you try to reason. you hate confrontation!

"no buts, princess. tomorrow, okay? do what i say." his voice is more stern now, and you can't help but comply when his fingers play gently with your hair, his lips softly kissing all over your face as you look up at him.

eddie knows he's got you exactly where he wants you.

and truly, he does.

that next day, you break up with tommy, and eddie is the first to hear about it.

he may not be in highschool anymore, but he has people (dustin).

because when you come home from school, both of your parents out, eddie's high on happiness and love (or obsession) (as well as a little weed). he drags you straight to his bedroom, his cock already throbbing to get out of his jeans, his body on fire--and when he kisses your skin, your whole entire body fizzles, sparking into a wildfire-sized flame that suffocates you whole.

you can't get enough of each other, and although you both have done stuff before (eddie was the one to take your virginity), nothing has been like this before. usually, things between you two were always very passionate and intense, but this felt different.

he's needy for you.. and although he has been extremely needy for you ever since he met you, he actually vocalizes it this time.

"y-you're mine, baby," he seethes, eyebrows mimicking yours--upward and eyes filled with desperation as you make small little uh uh uh's. you are incapable of making any other sound. your legs are wrapped around his upper back, and everything is so much and he is so close, his chest pressed against yours, you can't help but softly sob. eddie shushes you, wiping away your tears. "just a little fuckin' crybaby, huh? g-god, i love you. you're all fuckin' mine, princess--awh, fuck-" eddie whines when you tighten around him, and he can tell your close. his balls are filled and ready to be milked but he first meshes his lips messily with yours, spit connecting the two of you for a second before snapping back to each other's lips.

"s-so proud of you, my pure little baby--this fuckin' cunt, god," he whispers, his right hand wrapped gently around your throat as he kisses any place he can get to, sucking on your bottom lip as you hiccup around cute little squeaky moans he can't get enough of. "say you're mine." he groans gently, rutting into you, his bedframe hitting the wall. "s-say it, baby, c'mon, please?"

you can hear how much he needs this. however, it's so hard for you to answer, so you just sniffle, squealing as his thrusts get sloppier. "fuckin--say it! please, please, please, please--"

"'m yours, ed--" you swallow, feeling the sensation of pressure building up in your core. "'m y-yours, eddie," you cry.

eddie laughs through a choked moan, "y-yeah you are, puppy--n-not tommy's, n-not any of the fuckin' l-losers at your school--you're mine."

you squeeze around him again, puckering your lips as you feel closer to your release, "kissie?" you sniffle, eyes glossy and red from your crying.

eddie chuckles and nods, lips quickly pressing against yours, tongues licking desperately at one another--completely unhinged as your body is overtook with its release, numb and vibrating through your veins.

you can't moan.

you can't talk.

your finger nails claw at eddie's back, as you hear a faint, "shit, so beautiful.." but you can barely hear it as it feels as though your ears are clogged with water, a small squeak heard from the back of your throat as your spit drips from your mouth, slowly, like golden honey. you eyes are crossed and your breathing has been stifled by the intensity. this is the longest time you've ever orgasmed, and eddie loves every fucking second. he kisses you gently, his hips slapping against yours as he pounds into your tiny body, his own frame caging you in. he would show you the bulge your tummy makes when his cock hits your sweet spot over and over again, but he knows you are completely gone.

"take it, princess," he mumurs against your lips, his left hand rubbing and slapping your hardened nipples. "take my fuckin' cock, my c-cum--gonna fill you up real nice, hm? wanna be a mommy?"

you tighten at that. back arched and pressed against eddie's tattooed chest.

he cums as he watches how absolutely fucked-out you are, cursing and spurting his warm seed into your cunt for what seems like hours.

you can hear him whisper small, "breathe, baby, breathe"'s to you as you finally gasp, not realizing you had gone a while without oxygen.

immediately, you start crying. not out of sadness or anything bad, just out of love and something you can't quite put your finger on.

"aw, poor thing," eddie shushes, petting your forehead. you clutch onto him as he slowly pulls out, his come spilling from your winking, creamy, hole.

tears fall free from your beautiful eyes as you sniffle, and eddie brings you in closer to him. "e-e-eddie.." you cry softly, voice high and delirious and he can tell you are very far gone. "w-wha's wrong w-with me? feel w-weird.."

eddie smiles, kissing your lips, "nothing's wrong baby, you just came a lot, yeah? so much for your little body to process, sweet girl. you just need a little bit to come down from it, okay? you were so good, baby, daddy's so proud of you, princess." his voice is gentle and sweet; relaxing your still shaking body.

after about ten minutes of eddie kissing your face, chest, and neck, he begins to pull away to go clean you up, but you grip onto his arm, pulling him back. "no," you pout, "w-wan' fingers, please?" you plead, and eddie smiles, "'f course, baby..such a good girl using your manners.." he places his pointer and middle fingers between your red, bitten lips and into your silky mouth, letting you suck on his tattooed fingers as you are pulled into a deep sleep.

you're finally his now.

he has you exactly how he wants you.

[scekrex]

Found another one hidden behind the cobwebs of my mind :D This time a prompt though, a smutty prompt 😏

Cowboy hat rule but Adam's exterminator mask. Reader being genuinely curious what it looks like inside and how does he see with it on his head, just putting it on while Adam was taking a shower or smth and looked in the mirror, thinking that it looked quite fucking awesome on him. He didn't realise though that Adam got out of shower and now was staring at him, dick absolutely hard seeing his husband wearing his mask that he goes to kill demons in and decides that since he wanted to wear his mask so badly, he's going to fuck him in it. Mask rule instead of the hat rule. Wear the mask, ride the masked man 🤠

Yeeehaw, might try that rule with ya 🤠😏

Ayo that a promise babes? Might take you up on that xoxo also Adam wasn't riding reader here but he made up for it

In Desire We Trust

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, anal sex, blowjobs, slapping, insulting (kinda?) unprotected & unprepared sex

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Adam had been in the bathroom for quite a while now, he had locked the door about half an hour ago with the info, that he was going to take a quick shower.

And ever since he had left his exterminator mask on the little coffee table in your living room your fingers were tickling to touch it, to put it on and figure out how it worked, because how the fuck did it work? You had been denying yourself that bit of information for far too long so you simply reached out and grabbed it. It looked… interesting. It was dark inside, but you couldn't spot any wires, that was for sure.

With curiosity rushing through your body you stepped over to the full body mirror that was hanging on the wall and put the mask on, eager to find out how the first man was able to see through this thing at all. Once the mask sat on your head comfortably, it immediately mimicked your facial expressions. Holy fuck was that thing accurate. You watched how every little movement was on display on the mask’s digital face and you were absolutely mesmerized by it.

Too caught up by how amazing this thing was, you didn't notice Adam leaving the bathroom. The first man was as naked as he had been back in Eden and the sight of you wearing his mask made him pop an instant boner because holy fucking shit, that thing looked absolutely glorious on you, it was something he wasn't used to at all, but that made it even better. The towel that had hung over his shoulder was dropped as he stepped up behind you.

A small surprised yelp escaped you as his naked arms wrapped around your body, his hands pressed against your chest to bring your back flush against his own chest. His hard dick was grinding firmly against your ass as one hand moved up to your neck. It forced you to tilt your head upwards. Through the mirror in front of you you glanced up at him, the mask mimicking your expression perfectly. “Fuck you look good wearing that mask,” he murmured as he watched your body react in the mirror, no need to look down at you when the mirror showed your body so fucking perfectly. You hummed at that, a wicked grin appeared on the LED screen. “Of course I fucking do,” you cockily responded, your ass moved in synch with his dick which drew pretty sounding gasps from the tall man behind you. “Wanna bend you over, grab you by the horns ‘n’ fuck you,” his voice was dripping from lust and the twitch that went through his dick only underlined his words. You liked that thought, very much so.

“Then fucking do it, coward.”

Oh and Adam was on it in an instant, the hand around your throat tightened a little as his other hand slid inside your pants to wrap around your dick, a moan fell from your lips as your eyes fell shut in pleasure and your body started to chase the friction Adam was providing. You had given the first man a challenge and Adam was no one to chicken out or back down, especially when it came to fucking your brains out. “You never fucking learn it, babes,” he purred in sheer delight at your reaction, a sharp grin on his lips as he watched the expression on the mask change. Your mouth was slightly agape, your eyes still closed and your eyebrows were raised. “Always so fucking cocky only to moan my name like the fucking whore you are moments later,” the hand that was stroking your dick slowed down before he withdrew his hand entirely from your erection. A shudder ran through your body.

“I’m gonna fuck you right here so that you can see how fucking godly you look while I fuck your brains out,” he hummed in your ear and you watched his eyes which were focused on your lips. Oh dear lord how you wanted to hold him accountable to his words, how you wanted nothing more than for him to fuck you braindead. The hand that had been stroking your dick grabbed a hold of one of the horns that were attached to the mask and while the thing would definitely need some deep cleaning later, Adam couldn't bring himself to care in the slightest at that moment, he was too focused on your body's reaction to his own. He firmly pulled the horn backwards which resulted in the back of the mask hitting his chest harshly, the brunette didn't seem to mind though given the chuckle he let out as a comment to the whimper that fell from your lips at the sudden movement. “Y’know I might get you your own,” his finger tapped the horn as if he was actually thinking about it. But before you could comment or even react to that the LED face of the mask mirrored your surprised expression as Adam yanked your pants down, your underwear was quick to follow. “Color?” the first man asked to check in on you - a thing you had talked about at the beginning of your relationship, right after figuring out each other's kinks. Consent was key and therefore consent was fucking hot. “Green,” you breathed out heavily as you kicked off your shoes and stepped out of the fabric that had been covering your lower body half just moments ago, leaving you in nothing but a band shirt you had stolen from Adam years ago. Your hands reached for the hem of the shirt in order to remove it but Adam stopped you, the hand on the horn catched both of your wrists easily and held them high above your head to prevent you from undressing yourself fully. “You stay like that. Only wearing my fucking shit,” oh and how he loved that thought, how he was able to drown in it even, you only dressed in things that belonged to him and him alone, just like you did. “Possessive, aren't we?” you teased the taller man behind you and earned yourself a squeeze on your throat for that comment, it had still been worth it. “Oh you fucking know it,” he simply responded.

His hand that had been wrapped around your throat the entire time finally let go and you inhaled deeply, dear god, how sweet air could taste. Instead he placed his large palm on your shoulder and forced you to bend over, your hands braced against the mirror to steady your body as soon as Adam released them and the LED face of the mask started to glitch a little with how many emotions were on your face. Adam noticed and decided spontaneously to find out how big the glitches could get. The free hand slapped your ass firmly, causing you to yelp in pain. Through the mirror you saw a hint of concern appear in his eyes and you were quick to assure him you were okay by grinding your naked ass against his erection.

While your own was painfully hard and arched for attention, you had learned to be patient, at least sometimes. He applied a little pressure onto your shoulder, “Stay.” A nod from you seemed to be enough confirmation for now because both of his hands grabbed your ass cheeks and spread them. He appeared eager today because there was neither preparation physically nor magically as you felt the tip of his dick brush against your hole, a shudder went through your body and a whimper fell from your lips. “Fuck, Adam,” you moaned as the LED face that the man was seeing displayed lust, nothing but pure lust that was underlined by glitches, “I can fucking take it.”

And that had seemed to be what he had wanted to hear because once the words had crossed your lips, he was slowly pushing his hips forwards, burying himself inside of you. A devine moan fell from Adam's lips at the sight and he couldn't help but stare. At you wearing his mask, at him sliding inside of you, spreading your insides in the nicest way possible. “Fucking right,” you growled through clenched teeth with a smirk on your lips, “Moan for me, bitch.” Adam hasn't expected such a comment from you and couldn't help it when his head fell backwards and another holy moan fell from his soft, tempting lips. Oh fuck, the things your words did to him.

A whine of your name escaped him and his hands moved from your ass to the horns of his mask, he pulled on them harshly, clearly filled with excitement, lust and loss of control. Within a blink your back was pressed flush against his chest again as his dick finally bottomed out inside of you, a delightful hum was what Adam got in return. You were biting your lip to keep yourself as quiet as possible, the first man clearly didn't like it, “Stop that fucking shit and moan for me you whore.” You couldn't stop the bitchy reply, “Yeah well if you'd fuck me properly I would be screaming your name already.” Adam stopped in his tracks for a second and looked at you perplexed through the mirror. Fuck. Had you overstepped? Had it been too much?

But then his grip shifted yet again, one hand found its spot on your hip bone, his grip hard enough to leave bruises while the other came up to your throat yet again. He leaned down a little, his chin now resting on the mask's horns as he spoke, “You bratty little fucker better shut your fucking mouth.” And without a warning his hips started to move, not softly like he would have done if you had just shut up, no, his pace was bruising, hard and rough yet quick at the same time. It physically knocked the air out of your lungs and when the first dick to ever be created finally found your sweet spot and penetrated it again and again and again, you knew you were done for, you knew you lost the fight for dominance, not that there had ever been a serious competition. “Adam,” you moaned as your hands reached behind you, grabbing his hips hard and digging your nails into his skin to keep him close. “Fuck-” your eyes fell shut and your head fell back against his solid chest. Fuck was truly the only proper word to describe how you felt. “Adam please,” you whined because despite being needy and despite having a painfully hard erection, you knew better than to simply touch yourself. You had already been playing with fire earlier and you really wanted to cum, so you weren't willing to take yet another risk. “Fucking touch me already,” you begged the first man and Adam truly never could get enough of you begging for him, no matter what it was about. But you begging for his hand to pleasure you was surely one of the things he liked the most. “Be fucking patient and I'll blow you,” he snarled as his balls slapped against your ass again, again, again.

The thought of Adam's lips around your dick made you feel lightheaded - well to be honest the entire situation made you feel lightheaded, especially with the mask covering your face. It wasn't exactly hard to breathe underneath it, quite the opposite actually, yet it felt like there wasn't enough air to pump through your body to keep up with what was happening. “C’mon babes, say it,” he underlined his words with an extra harsh thrust. You gasped in surprise as you gripped his hips even harder, your knees started to weaken and your legs were trembling as you watched him through the mirror. His eyes looked hazy, clouded by lust and love for you and only you, the expression on his face was fucked out and the mask was showing you that your expression was quite similar to his.

“Adam-” “No. Fucking say it,” his eyes darkened a little and oh how you loved it when they did that during sex, your hips thrusted up into nothing, desperately seeking friction. “For fucks sake,” you cussed at him, “I’m not calling you Dickmaster.” The annoyance was visible on the LED face and Adam's lips stretched into a wide, toothy grin, “You just fucking did,” his voice dropped an octave as he continued, “And you're gonna be my good fucking boy and do it again. Seriously this time.” And oh that voice of his shattered every little bit of pride you had stored up inside of you and you felt your knees giving out underneath you. Adam's arm was quick to wrap around you, to prevent you from falling. “Fucking admit it.” “Dickmaster,” you whispered as you tried to control your breathing a little, it was hellish hot underneath that fucking mask and your few was fogged so you barely saw anything. However you felt Adam's body react to your words - well to your word rather. “One more time, speak the fuck up, I want those bitches next door to know who's fucking your brains out.” Your grip on Adam's hips tightened yet again to keep you up on your legs even though that wasn't really necessary considering that he was holding you up, but the little stutter of his hips it earned you made it worth it. “Fucking Dickmaster,” you cried out as his dick hit your prostate extra hard.

Your hands came up to rip the mask off your head but once again the first man stopped you in your tracks, “The mask stays fucking on, babes.” A whine of his name was your answer to his demand and for a second his mind seemed to clear up because the grip on your wrists loosened and his eyes met yours in the mirror. “Color?” Oh how you adored it when he asked for consent and checked on you while also fucking you senseless, because while is face looked concerned, his thrusts didn't slow down in the slightest. “Green.” And with that he pushed your hands away from the mask.

“Gonna fucking paint your insides,” he mumbled once his attention had been shifted back to what you were doing. “Fuck, please-” you wanted that, wanted him to mark you up and paint you in white liquid. His hand still didn't move to touch you, not even when he groaned that he was close and you just took it. He had promised you a blowjob after all and you weren't gonna miss out on that.

And then he buried himself deep down inside of you, his nails dug into your hips as his orgasm knocked the air out of his lungs and his energy drained rapidly. He fucked the sticky liquid as deep in as physically possible, your name on his lips as he covered your insides in his cum.

Once his breathing slowed down again and the clouds that had covered his eyes lifted, he pulled out, grinning at your whine at the emptiness you were met with. “Adam,” you begged with need in your eyes, the emotion strong enough to make Adam's mask glitch, more extreme than it had been before and then the yellow LED face disappeared and Adam was met with a blank screen as he spun you around in his arms to face you.

The first man was quick to remove the mask from your head and toss it aside, that was a problem for later.

Adam pushed you backwards until your back was pressed against cold glass, you let out a hiss at the unpleasant feeling as cum streamed down your legs. But Adam didn't care. He dropped to his knees within a heartbeat and without giving you the slightest bit of a warning, his mouth opened and his soft lips wrapped around your angry red erection.

Oh what a relief the heat of Adam's mouth was, you knew it wouldn't take you long, that there was no chance you could last and still you grabbed a fistful of Adam's hair and fucked his throat harshly. The sin of lust had taken over your body completely and everything you did was because your body screamed at you to do it. But Adam let you. He let you fuck his throat, for fucks sake he moaned around your dick in the most delicious way possible, sending vibrations through your body. And that was all you needed. That simple little stimulation sent you over the edge and you couldn't bring your body to pull out of his mouth or give him a warning at least. A loud, throaty moan of his name erupted from your lips and your head hit against the cold glass behind you as you came down Adam's throat.

And he swallowed it all, of fucking course he did. Show off. He made sure your dick was all clean when he got up and whipped his mouth with the back of his hand, a proud grin on his lips. “Now that's my good boy,” he hummed, sounding just as proud as he looked, before leaning down and catching your lips in a much softer kiss. It tasted bitter and salty, your cum still on his tongue. His tongue that had just entered your mouth. Yet you moaned into the kiss, pushed yourself away from the mirror and against his hot body.

“Looks like you showered for nothing,” and while you tried to sound disappointed, Adam caught onto what you were implying immediately. “Mhm, seems like we have to take one together, can't fucking leave you all messy, babes.

[shower-phantom-ideas]

Seeing a lot of de-aged Danny in Gothem posts floating around and I love it

100% here for little shit Danny being a “fuck around and find out” child

I like to think of him as detective conan style with full memories and brain power jam packed into the body of a smol bean.

Let him get spotted by The Batman and just fully throw the man for a loop cause holy fuck not tiny little child could think of this wtf.

Like Danny isnt even as big as he was when he was six. No. Now hes like the size of a small for their age six year old. Shortest in the kindergarten kinda sized.

“Wow what a smart 4year old you got there” actually MiSs hes six and a half.

Let him be so hard for Bruce to catch but also so smart. Bruce can see him taking apart a smartphone and re wiring a microwave. Hes a little genius! Danny normally is an engineering genius but now hes just so very cute and smol. But he doesn’t wanna be babied. So sir he demands respect.

Anyway cut to like three months later and hes the head maintenance guy at the watchtower. Everyone learns that hes not to be messed with too. Some just respect him out the gate cause The Batman is bringing him in and they don’t wanna be fired. Others learn the hard way that this fucking toddler (hes seven now thank you very much) can fix a teleported that they hardly understand.

I also like to think Danny uses it to his advantage as much as he can. “But im just seven mister pwease don’t make me fill out paper work 🥺” but it doesn’t work in The Batman cause hes apparently the worlds greatest detective and knows this one isnt actually seven. Danny put in so much work trying to keep Bruce in the dark (thats a lie he didn’t do shit to protect his identity) but the knight saw through him pretty early on. Like a week after Danny moved in with him. Though I did take him a bout a month to get him to do even that.