#i just thought it kinda looked better this way
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mine | matt sturniolo
contents: cursing; fighting; (kinda) toxic relationship; handjob (m receiving); oral (f receiving); use of “y/n”; lowkey sub!matt
- ♡ -
as we arrived at his house, i slammed the door shut behind me. “can you stop being an asshole?” i yelled, getting closer to him.
“yes? if you stop acting like a fucking whore” matt said, raising his voice at me.
“shut up matthew” i was serious this time, and he could it see it in my eyes. “don’t act like you didn’t notice how every fucking girl there was hitting on you”.
matt rolled his eyes back, giving me a whole grin before shouting “you sat on his LAP!”
“he’s my friend!” i answered. “i know him longer than i’ve known you!”
“you’re my fucking girl!”, his loud voice filled the living room to the point it made me shrug, not being able to get a word out of my mouth.
i stayed there, quiet. my arms were crossed as i stared into his eyes — i could instantly tell he regretted saying that. matt was moving in circles, scratching freshly shaved beard and cracking his knuckles before coming back to me.
“okay? you’re my girl y/n. you can’t do shit like that and expect me to be fine about it” he grabbed my face with both of his hands and stared back at me, talking in an angry, almost demanding tone. his touch, however, was still soft.
“no matthew, i’m not your fucking girl if you’re not gonna be my fucking guy. what the fuck was that scene for?” i put my hands over his and removed them.
“listen y/n, i can’t do this. i’m sorry, okay? i’m sorry but it’s better if we go to sleep. i’m fucking tired and you’re drunk” matt never liked to sort things out during a heated moment. he needed some time alone to align his thoughts and finally being able to solve the problem.
“i’m not drunk, matt. i had a couple drinks with your brother, that’s all”.
“and that explains how you end up grinding over some guy’s lap?” he asked me again, and now i was the one who didn’t want to keep on fighting.
“you know what? you’re right. it’s better if we go to bed. but i’m gonna go back to my fucking bed, at my fucking house” i said as i walked out, not bothering looking at his face. “so have a good night by yourself matthew, you ruined the whole night”.
i stopped by the sidewalk, trying to put myself together as tears began to form in my eyes. not only i was angry and disappointed at matt, but i had no one to take me back home since he’s been the one doing this for the past year. on top of that, the weather had completely changed and i was fucking freezing.
i heard the door unlocking and his steps getting closer, but i didn’t dare looking back.
“y/n, what the fuck are you doing? come inside” matt asked and i realized he had snapped out of it already. his voice was tender and full of emotion.
“no, i’m calling an uber”.
“babe” low blow. matt knows how much i like it when he calls me pet names. “it’s late. please come, it’s getting fucking cold here”.
“good” i turned without thinking and finally saw his face again. just like me, he had red cheeks and eyes filled with tears. “you should freeze to death”.
“yeah, i’ll keep that in mind” he smiled. “y/n i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i didn’t say to those girls i had a girlfriend and i’m sorry i raised my voice at you. i know i shouldn’t have done that, can you please forgive me? please?” matt looked at me with puppy eyes. “you don’t have to do it right now but at least get inside. i’ll drop you off in the morning after you rest and we’ll fix things up. please, babe”.
i nodded my head, agreeing silently - i wasn’t gonna say a word to him. i got back to the house and quickly went upstairs, making myself comfortable in his big bed. matt didn’t follow me, and though i wouldn’t lock the door on him, he knew he was going to sleep on the couch.
- ♡ -
i glanced at the nightstand clock, 3AM. i couldn’t fall asleep without matt. i missed his smell, his touch, his warmth, the way he’d let me rest my head over his chest while caressing my back or the days where he’d give up acting tough and giving in to my touch, deeply asleep while i kept running my fingers through his curls.
i went downstairs. i had to - my heart was as heavy as my eyes.
i saw matt all curled up on the plain couch, not having a blanket or a pillow. he hadn’t even changed his clothes, still wearing the same grey jeans and black shirt he went out with earlier.
i instinctively got closer and lied down with him, trying my best to not wake matt up. just being around him like this made me let out a long breathe, finally being able to relax.
“hm? babe?” he murmured, too sleepy to actually look at me.
“cant sleep without you. shut up”
“c’m here” matt opened his arms, allowing me to snuggle into him “are you still mad? i love you. love you so much”
i loved him even more. gosh, how much i love him.
i tried to get even closer to him, glueing our bodies together as my hand rested on his thigh. i couldn’t help but kiss his jaw, playfully biting all over him. he giggled softly, melting into my touch as i kept trailing down his neck with kisses.
as i reached his sweet spot, i noticed matt’s breath had gotten slower and heavier. he didn’t say anything - in fact, i don’t think he even bothered opening his eyes - but didn’t complain as i deepened my pecks, slowing sucking onto his pale skin.
of course i was gonna give matt a hickey. if he says i’m his, then i’ll show he’s also mine.
i slowly moved my hands to his waistband, altering between tickling his lower belly and teasing his boxers.
“y/n… fuck” matt mumbled.
“hm? want me to stop?” i asked just to make sure.
“n-no, don’t. i’m… getting hard” he stared at his pants before giving me puppy eyes once again.
“are you gonna be a good boy and behave for once, matt?”
“uhum. yes yes i will” matt started speaking mindlessly, agreeing with anything i'd tell him to do.
“yeah? gonna stop acting like you’re a tough guy?”
“y-you know that im not that tough…” he whispered shyly before looking away.
“you’re right. you’re just a silly boy, aren’t you matthew?” no response. “answer me.”
“y/n, please”
“please what?”
“please let me touch you” he leaned in, trying to kiss my lips. i didn't let him go any further than a peck. “need you so bad”.
“let me take care of you first, hm?” i asked, eventually getting a grip of his bulge over his pants.
“yes babe, fuck” he nodded frantically, eager for me to get him off.
“don’t you think it’s funny?” i said, adjusting myself on the sofa so i could finally unbutton his jeans. “few hours ago you were man enough to call me a slut”. i put my hands inside matt’s pants, palming his hardened cock through his boxers. i could feel a wet spot building up, letting me know his pre-cum was already leaking. “and now you can’t even say what you want?” i teased.
“wanna be good for you” he whimpered as i removed his last piece of cloth, freeing his dick out. matt’s hips bucked into the air, begging to get some friction. “please, please, i’ll behave! i promise i’ll be your good boy”, he cried. poor thing.
i went back to kissing matt while wrapping my fingers around his length, pumping him at a slow pace. i could hear his whines and the small moans he tried to cover by biting his own lips. i placed my thumb at his tip, circling it and spreading the pre-cum down his cock.
matt had gone even quieter, left arm covering half of his face as if he was too embarrassed to admit how much he needed my touch.
soon enough, i had fastened my pace and tightened my grip, his voice finally coming out “i’m gonna cum”.
“did you get permission?”, i asked. he knew how things worked.
“f-fuck y/n, please. wanna cum so bad” matt whimpered once again, cheeks as red as his tip.
“well, you weren’t being a good boy today. do you really think you deserve it?”
“im sorry ah-” he moaned loudly “please, wanna cum. wanna cum for you” he kept repeating over and over, suddenly replacing the words with babbles full of lewd sounds. i could tell how hard he was trying to not release, worried he’d wouldn’t be a good boy anymore.
“go on, baby boy. make a mess for me” it took matt just a few seconds to sputter his cum all over my hand with a loud cry, hips jointing forward during his orgasm. i kept on softly palming his cock as he came back from his high, trying my best to not overstimulate him.
“you're SO fucking good” matt groaned, eyes still closed. “oh” he noticed i had my hand full of his release, “can i make it up to you?”
i nodded and matt grabbed his jeans to clean us up in the sloppiest way i've ever seen. he pulled his boxers back up and got off the couch, leaving me with furrowed eyebrows as i tried to understand whatever he was planning to do. he then took his shirt off so i could see all the purple spots i've left throughout his neck and collarbone, throwing it somewhere and kneeling in front of me. fuck.
matt placed his hands by the sides of my legs and decided to rest his face on my thighs, deeply starring at me with those blue eyes that would drive me insane. he then placed his fingers on my waistband, teasing me in the same way i had done earlier. it didn’t took long until he realized i wasn't wearing any panties and the sweaters i had on were, in fact, his.
“no panties and you don't want me calling you a slut?” he asked before licking his lips.
“matt, be a good boy” i said, reminding him of what had just happened.
“well” he slowly started removing my pants. “i think you should learn how to be a good girl as well”.
i was now fully exposed and matt couldn't shut up about it “you're so fucking wet”, he'd say while placing kisses on the insides of my thighs. as he got closer to my crotch and his kisses turned into love bites, i lost my sense of control - we had the same power over each other, each one of us letting go of any and all armors during intimate moments like this one.
i couldn't help but forcing my hips down on him, whining as i felt his heavy breathing against my clit. matt smiled and looked at me before giving one long lick from my hole back to my clit, just like a kitten. i gasped when he started to swirl his tongue on me and my hands instinctively went to his fluffy hair, holding onto him as if my life depended on it.
i was already on the verge of releasing - anything from him would make me come right on the spot. matt kept on scratching my thighs and occasionally holding my hips to stop me from moving around so much.
“fuck babe, your pussy is so fucking pretty” he said as he moved to my entrance, teasing me with the tip of his tongue. my dripping wet cunt made it easier for matt to get in, and he already knew i was getting close as my pussy throbbed over his face.
not a single word came out of my mouth, the living room being filled with my high pitched whimpers when matt placed his thumb over my clit and played with it - while still eating me out.
“wanna taste you” he almost begged. “wasn't i your good boy? shouldn't you cum in my mouth as a reward?” he started sucking my clit and when my eyes met his, i was thrown off the edge. my orgasm crashed down on me, making my legs tremble as i kept on moaning, matt slowing driving me through it.
i came back to my senses and found matt looking so satisfied, as if he actually had an entire meal - swollen, wet lips, messy hair and the biggest smile on his face. he came closer to my face and allowed me to have a taste of myself in a lewd kiss, both of us acknowledging our fight was over.
“i love you so much”, he whispered. “i love you even more” i said, pulling him back up to the sofa and tangling my legs around his waist, letting his body collapse onto mine as we went on our way to finally get some sleep.
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#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo x reader#matt x reader#matt x y/n#sub!matt#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo imagine#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo
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YAY MY FIRST TIME DOING THIS GAME!!!
Rockstar!eddie, rehab, angst (because I have been think of this concept all day)
starting the day off strong with some angst! tw bc it does mention drug abuse and some darker kinda themes.
"Eddie Munson," Eddie looked up from the guitar he'd been strumming towards the nurse- no, the holistic helper at the door. They didn't use words like that here, not at this rehab.
"You have a visitor here." She nodded, giving a soft smile.
Eddie set the guitar down, tucking the pick back between the strings, following the woman down the long hallway of the center. The music room was where he spent most of his time these days. He'd tried hiking and the spa once he'd finished detox, but always came back there- his own oasis in his own personal hell.
"We're going to go back to your room for this meeting, if that's alright with you, Eddie." The nurse smiled gently.
"Fine with me." Eddie grumbled, his shoulders feeling heavier and heavier with each passing step.
Ninety days, it's what he agreed to. He felt better after twenty, but he'd finish it out- for you, for your girls, his family that he'd fucked selfishly. His stomach turned at the thought.
"And, there's no limit on this visit today." The nurse stopped before she opened the door. "So no need to feel pressured to rush."
Eddie's brows furrowed. It was Gareth, maybe Jeff, he knew it was. They were the only ones who came to visit him anyways. Still, he grumbled in response, turning the knob to his room. It was nice, a private suite that felt more like a hotel room than the prison cell it'd become.
"Hey, man, didn't know you were coming by today. I've been working on some stuf-" Eddie's breath hitched, falling flat in the air when he turned.
It felt nearly like a mirage, like he might have been dreaming, hallucinating that you were here. Here, on his bed, sitting too rigidly to be comfortable, arms wrapped around yourself.
"Working on stuff?" You hummed, eyes barely meeting his and he didn't miss the way you swallowed. "What kind of stuff?"
"Y-You're here?" Eddie croaked, shutting the door with a harsh snap. "Wha-What are you doin' here, baby?" Every bit of his being screamed to hug you, hands tingling and twitching- itching to feel you, to hold you.
You shifted uncomfortably, finger running over your ring finger out of habit. Eddie nearly threw up when he saw you'd gone without your ring, he wondered how long ago you'd stopped wearing it.
"Um, Gareth came by the other day to see the girls." Your eyes cut to Eddie at the mention of them, how his face nearly crumbled at the thought. "He told me you'd been doing much better. Told me you were scared straight."
"Yeah." Eddie nodded. He was frozen, unable to move, so he stood in the doorway. "I am. I-I..." There was a million things Eddie wanted to say. He wanted to drop to his knees, beg for your forgiveness, for mercy, for anything.
"He," Your voice cracked, turning your head politely to the side to compose yourself. So prim and proper, Eddie's heart leapt at the action- he'd missed it so fucking much.
"He also brought me your letter." Your lip wobbled at the mention, pressing them tightly together to keep yourself from bursting into tears. Ten pages, front to back, with scribbling, tear soaked, inked ramblings about his feelings- poured his heart out onto those pages. Everything he'd ever wanted to say in his entire life, there on those pages, his whole bleeding heart.
"He did." Eddie sounded relieved, shoulders slumping, rounding with the weight of everything he'd kept in for so long.
You nodded slowly, watching him carefully from your own perch. "The girls made you some things." Your voice shook with your hands when you reached in your bag, piles of drawing and scribbles they'd made for Eddie.
Eddie looked at the colorful papers, just a glimpse in your hand, choking on a sob that was tearing mercilessly through his chest. "I, um, I didn't bring them today." You barely met Eddie's eyes, hand smoothing over the construction paper. "I didn't think you'd want them to see you like this."
"No," Eddie shook his head, tears falling down his stubbled cheeks. "No, I-I don't. Thank you."
The air was thick between the two of you, an unsure uncomfortable feeling that left you both on ease. Eddie finally sobbed when your hand brushed his, passing the drawings to him.
"I'm-I'm so sorry." Eddie broke, teeth gritted, trying to swallow back his own cries, hand holding yours tightly. "I don't-I don't know why I-I fucking did that. Why I did it to you, a-and to the girls, and fuck- I don't know why-" Eddie's sobs choked his words.
You knew you shouldn't have, that you should have stood strong, colder and meaner. Your mind screamed at you to stop, but you couldn't- not when your own heart was shattering all over again. So you held him, arms wrapped around his torso, body moving towards his in that familiar way. Your puzzle piece, you two fit so well. His arms hugging you tightly, nearly crushing you into his chest like he wanted you to fuse to him. Eddie's face pressed to your head, wetting your scalp with his tears, nose rubbing into your skin babbling apologies over and over again, promises that he would keep, that you hoped he would.
#oneforthemunny#munnytalks#vivisblurbgame#rockstar!eddie munson#rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader#dad!rockstar!eddie munson#dad!eddie x mom!reader#rockstar!eddie x reader#rockstar!eddie munson angst#eddie munson au#eddie munson x fem!reader angst#eddie munson x reader angst#eddie munson angst#eddie x fem!reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x you#eddie stranger things#eddie my love <3#eddie x reader#eddie munson#oneforthemunny blurbs#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson x reader
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WHEREVER YOU WANNA GO, THAT’S FINE WITH ME — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO
cw mentioned/talks about death but not like… in a serious way 😭 this whole thing is very unserious and stupid it’s just a thought i couldn’t get out of my head, megumi being… megumi, f2l but what’s new, also inspired by some clip from a tv show i’ve seen on tt but idk the name of it, if you do pls let me know
you ask megumi you make one of those marriage pacts with you—that if neither of you are married by thirty-five, you two will get married to each other—and he just hums for a moment before asking, “do you think i’ll be better suited for marriage at thirty-five?”
“what? n—i don’t know? maybe? it just seems like an appropriate age to get married if you’re not already, that’s all,” you explain.
more humming. he blinks, “i don’t think i’ll be all that different at thirty-five.”
“well, that’s concerning,” you joke, “you’re supposed to change—grow a little bit as a person and all that, megumi. even you are capable of it.”
“i won’t want anything different out of a marriage at thirty-five than i would right now,” he corrects you, then turns to you, and with all seriousness demands, “so, state your stipulations. what do you want from me, let’s figure out of this is gonna work now.”
you scoff, and cross your arms. “what do i want from you? that’s not how a marriage works.”
“that’s how this friendship already works.”
you say, megumi does; he pushes it than he should have, you say to stop, and eventually he does, and the cycle continues. he’s always stubborn, and sacrificing himself beyond necessity, and you’re always pulling his ear for it.
“okay. fine,” you settle, straightening your posture, “i want a house. three bedrooms, so nobara and yuuji don’t have to bicker about sharing when they stay over.”
megumi considers it, then counters with, “four. gojo needs a bedroom, too. one floor, i don’t like stairs.”
“where the fuck are we going to find a one-level four-bedroom house? i don’t want to live in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.”
“we’ll find one,” he shrugs, doesn’t flinch when he promises: “or i’ll have one made for us. next: vacations.”
“twice per year. somewhere tropical, and somewhere metropolitan.”
“i don’t like the beach.”
“then you don’t have to go on the beach.”
“you’re responsible for me if i burn.”
“i’m responsible for you either way, i’m your wife,” you taunt, “pets, next. i want dogs. two. maybe three. and a bunny.”
“no bunnies, they’re too much work.”
“but i want a bunny, megumi.”
“you won’t have time for a bunny,” he rolls his eyes, “and you’re gonna get pissed when it chews up the expensive couch you’re gonna make me buy, and takes a shit in the expensive fruit bowl you’re gonna con gojo out of. no bunnies.”
you pout and frown, but megumi doesn’t budge: “no bunnies.”
you sigh, “no bunnies, but i want the dogs.”
“i didn’t say no to the dogs. unless you want a golden, then i’m not raising that.”
“why not? we already have yuuji.”
“exactly, we already have yuuji.”
“fine. i want a king sized bed. the really big, oversized ones you get in america.”
“done. children?”
“you want children?”
megumi shrugs, but you swear there’s a dust of pink on his cheeks, “maybe. maybe not. if i did, no more than two.”
and suddenly you can’t help but feel heat in your own face, hot with the image of two tiny megumis running around.
“that’s fine with me. maybe kids, but no more than two,” you cough, “i want one of those heated driveways for the house.”
“i’ll have it built. i’ll clean and do laundry and take out the trash if you cook.”
“what about days i don’t cook?”
“then i’ll do that, too,” megumi nods, “anything else?”
“yes. if i die first, you can remarry, but you visit my grave at least twice a year, and bring peonies. and that picture of me from prom where i look really good.”
“no.”
you stop. you blink. “what do you mean ‘no?’ you wouldn’t visit my grave?—kinda cruel considering i birthed your up-to-two future children and raised your dogs.”
“i won’t remarry. and i don’t want you to if i die first,” he corrects you, again, “and there’s no dying first and leaving me behind, i’m going with you.”
he doesn’t leave room for debate in his declarations: won’t, don’t; not wouldn’t, shouldn’t, couldn’t—you have to pinch yourself to stop chasing the rabbit of temptation running through your mind.
“i don’t… think you get to decide that,” you chuckle.
“of course i do,” megumi grins, uncrosses his legs and leans over. he reaches a hand to the back of your head and pushes it forward until your foreheads meet gently; and as if the affection wasn’t shocking enough, he continues, “where you go, i go. that’s marriage, right?”
he widens his smile a bit, before letting you go, leaning back into his seat again with crossed arms like nothing happened, and you’re left staring, blinking, breathing shallowly like prey that narrowly escaped being caught.
you don’t speak, so megumi does, “i have one more thing.”
and slowly, you unthaw enough to let out a questioning hum. megumi tilts his head before telling you, “i want your last name.”
“what? you—you would change your name?” you stutter, “but fushiguro is so pretty! and it’s your mom’s name, so few people get their mother’s names.”
“yeah. this way, our up-to-two children get their mother’s names, too.”
“i—okay… yeah, i guess they do,” you gape, then pout, “wait, what if i wanted to be mrs. fushiguro?”
“tough luck,” he grins, “you get everything else.”
you get me, instead, is what’s left unsaid.
“okay, fine. sounds like a deal to me.”
“great. we can’t have a spring wedding because gojo and toji will sneeze obnoxiously loudly, and we can’t have a summer wedding because the anniversary will conflict with our tropical vacation, and nobara will kill us if it’s too close to her birthday,” he says, standing up from the couch to head to the kitchen, “so i’ll see you at the courthouse in september.”
you nod reflexively, sinking back into the couch with a satisfied smile. it’s a while before your brain processes his words, and when it finally does, you spring up in a fluster, “october? megumi, i said when when we’re thirty-five and if neither of us are already married! megumi? megumi fushiguro, come back here!”
#i......... need to inhale him. that's all.#you can ignore all of this i just NEEDED to get this out of my head he's SO. he's his daddy's son that's what he is#which daddy? it doesn't matter 😐 which is why he's extra terrible#this also lives in an au where megumi is like 'are u done dating other guys yet 🙄 dont u know that we're endgame'#and has never made a single romantic comment to u before in ur entire life OH i hate him#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk scenarios#jjk imagines#megumi fushiguro x reader#megumi x reader#megumi fluff
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Grindr Swap With A Twink
Read Part 1 from @ghostinthedude here.
Lets just say that college was a LOT of fun. Sure, on the outside I looked like an immature pretty boy with nothing going through his head. But on the inside, I was a self-possessed adult, who knew exactly what he wanted.
From them moment I set foot on campus, I was inundated with attention from upperclassmen guys – and even some of the younger professors – who were eager to get to get me into their beds. I won’t go too much into the details, but I definitely got around that year.
Eventually, I hit my growth spurt. Better late than never I guess. And over the course of sophomore year I had packed on about 20 lbs of muscle, grew a solid 6 inches, and got a haircut. By junior year, I was no longer a slutty bottom twink being plowed by every closeted senior on the football team, I was a sexy vers twunk making my way through the swim roster.
All the while, I was acing all my classes, leading me to graduate Summa Cum Laude and get a job in investment banking for next year. I knew its going to be a hard path, but it made my parents so proud and it will set me up financially for the rest of my career. This week, I just moved into a brand new apartment by myself in Boston’s Back Bay. I’m due to start work in a few weeks, but I wanted to get settled in, explore the city, make some friends, and maybe even build up a roster (I’m not gonna have a ton of time to meet guys once work starts up).
---
That’s why tonight, I found myself scrolling through Grindr. Here's my profile pics btw:
There’s quite a selection to choose from. Hmmm, the international guys from Harvard seem kinda hot, but I bet they’re super full of themselves. What about a true Boston native, there’s something weirdly sexy about their accents.
I kept scrolling until one guy caught my eye, making my stomach flip. It was my old body, he had tapped my profile. That's weird, I thought he would still be in Cincinnati. But anyway, his profile is kinda super hot:
"Hey, what's up," I messaged.
"Hey cutie, how's it going?" he replied.
"Alright alright, just moved to town, looking for some fun," I joked, trying to keep the conversation light.
"Hahaha, I love some fun," he replied, his enthusiasm evident even through text. "Top or bttm?"
"Vers ;)" I replied.
"I can work with that," he replied eagerly. "So, what's your name?"
I couldn't help but chuckle to myself. "You really don't know?"
"No, why would I, cutie?" he responded.
"I just figured you'd remember your own face after all these years," I teased, adding, "Although I guess it's not your face anymore."
"OMG.”
I quickly sent him my location, to which he responded almost immediately, “Be there in 20.”
---
"Shit," he said as he walked through the door, looking around wide eyed. "This place is super nice."
"Yeah, I mean, it's not totally furnished yet, but it's pretty nice," I replied, trying to downplay it a bit.
"How did you afford it? I know my parents don’t exactly have deep pockets," he asked, genuine curiosity in his tone.
"Yeah, actually," I began, feeling a pang of sympathy for my former self, "I got such good grades freshman year that I actually got a scholarship for the rest of college. And now..."
My old body's expression shifted, a hint of sadness creeping in.
“And now, I’ll be making 110k starting with no loans. So yeah mom and dad didn’t really need to give me anything.” I said, feeling a bit odd that he still referred to them as his parents. “And how about you," I asked, trying to keep the conversation going. "Where are you living these days?"
"Oh, I have a shared flat in Dorchester," he replied. "It's nothing special, but it's all I can afford on a bartender's salary."
"You moved all the way out here for a bartending gig?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said with a shrug. "I didn't really have a choice. I got fired from my last job for showing up late too many times and kinda got blacklisted from all the good bars in Cincinnati. But a buddy who had moved out here set me up with a new gig. It's okay, I guess."
"But anyway," he said, changing the subject, "look at you, you've done really well for yourself."
I couldn't help but smirk as I ran my hand down my toned abs. He wasn't wrong.
"And you," I said, diverting the attention away from myself, "you must still be pulling in all the hot twinks with that bod."
"Hahaha, yeah," he replied, his confidence shining through. "Although none of them are as sexy as you are."
His compliment caught me off guard, but I couldn't help but be drawn in as he pulled me in for a kiss. The chemistry between us was undeniable as we quickly made our way to the bedroom, shedding our clothes with eager anticipation.
He climbed on top of me, his lips finding their way to my eager member. I couldn't help but marvel at how he still remembered all the right moves. Within minutes, he had me on the edge, his skilled hands finding their way to my sensitive nipples, pushing me to climax.
With a satisfied grin, he eagerly swallowed every last drop of my load. Luckily for him, I had a rapid recharge time, and I was ready to go for round two within minutes.
As he whipped out his beer can thick cock, memories flooded back. I remembered that thing—it was definitely fun to top twinks, or twunks like myself, back in the day.
In doggy, he hugged my body tightly, in a way that felt almost nostalgic. It was almost like he was reminiscing about living in this body, even though it didn’t look anything like this when he last had it.
Then, with surprising finesse, he flipped me over into missionary, his eyes locking with mine as our bodies moved in sync.
In a half-whisper, he asked me a question that caught me off guard: "Can we swap back?"
Just then, it dawned on me. To swap back, we both needed to swallow each other’s cum. Panic surged through me. He had already swallowed mine. Shit.
Still thrusting into me, he paused, his eyes searching mine with a mix of desperation and longing. "No, you don’t understand," he pleaded. "This could’ve been my life."
Struggling to fight him through the ecstasy I was feeling from his cock plunging into me, I shook my head. "No, it wouldn’t be," I gasped out between breaths. "You'd never work hard enough for this."
I looked up and saw a look come across his face that I’d know anywhere. He was about to cum. I couldn't let him pull out and risk the chance of him trying to shoot his load all over my face.
Quickly, I pushed him backwards and positioned myself on top of him, impaling myself on his throbbing cock in cowboy. He looked up at me, a mixture of bliss and regret evident in his expression as his load erupted.
Relieved but seething with anger, I stepped off the bed and quickly grabbed his pants, tossing them at him with a firm command. "Get out," I said, my voice carrying an edge of finality. "And don't contact me again."
He silently complied, skulking towards the door where he saw himself out. Locking it behind him, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.
Returning to the bedroom mirror, I faced my reflection with a newfound clarity. Taking a good, hard look at myself, I uttered the words that had been swirling in my mind.
"I am Devin Connors," I declared, the weight of the statement settling over me. "And I deserve everything that I’ve worked for."
Really happy with how this one turned out. Let me know if you have any suggestions for which story I should finish next.
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Ruin My Reputation
pairing : cooper howard (the ghoul) x (fem) reader
summary : he’s soft for you
warnings : blood, drug use kinda, talk of shooting
a/n : just something short and sweet so the fallout brainrot subsides.
“You know damn well I hate when you show up like this.” You let your medical supplies clatter onto the table where the ghoul sits, waiting like a hurt dog. Eyes awfully resemblant of the animal.
It’s likely that the only reason he’s here, looking this run down, is cause he’s got no vials left. If you knew better, you’d hide yours. Or better yet, get rid of them all together.
“Now c’mon darlin’,” he pauses to sputter out a cough and take a deep breath, “I thought you loved seeing me.” Shakily, he grabs his hat off his head and places it on the table.
“I love you a whole lot more when I don’t have to worry about you showing up at my doorstep on the brink of death you old..” Your words trail off and whatever insult you were ready to throw at him is taken away by the stream of air you let slip past your lips.
“I told you to quit your worryin’, I ain’t gonna die on ‘ya.”
“Oh yeah? And what do you suppose it is you’re doing right now?”
“Well if you’d quit your yappin’ and get to fixin’ I’d be doing a whole lot better, wouldn’t I?” He offers an unwelcome smile, which disappears when he winces in his pain. You hand him a vial of his favorite yellow liquid before you get to unbuttoning his shirt. After downing the vial he opens his mouth again but you're quick to cast your eyes his way.
“Looks like I didn’t need your medical attention after all, huh? ‘S a damn shame.”
“Mhm, waste of my time. Well then, I’ll cut right to it, thought I told ‘ya not to come around anymore after the last time.” Your voice trails off as you disappear to the back room to grab him a shirt that isn’t littered with holes and dirt and a shit ton of blood. Most of which probably isn't even his. And he follows behind, limping, like he’s in a trance and can’t help himself.
You hear a grunt from the other room as you rummage through a small storage box of his discarded things. Anything he left over the months he had been making himself a frequent quest in your home was in this box. You wanted to burn it. All of it. Use those little bottles of yellow liquid as a fire starter and make him watch while you did it. But anytime you tried, you couldn’t actually bring yourself to part with the tiny symbols of his presence.
“We both know you didn’t mean that,” he appears in the doorway behind you, blocking your exit, “besides I always come to my girl for help when things get rough. She's got all the good chems.”
You throw the shirt into his arms, a bit harder than intended, but he catches it with the reflexes of a man who kills for a living. Because, well, he does. You’re not sure why but every comment is making you angrier about him being there. A chem stash, huh? That’s all he thought of you?
“I wish you wouldn’t. I ain’t got time to sit around and tend to you, wait for you to get all better and leave again.”
The shirt now hangs on his body loosely, buttons open, “Now what’s got you so sour tonight. Usually you're a lot kinder to little ol’ me.” He leans against the doorframe
“Maybe the fact that I’ve got a half dead cowboy making himself comfy in my home every two weeks doesn’t sit well with me. You ever think about that before you kick your dirty boots off on my carpet?” You pause to stare at him with a raised eyebrow, “Oh, which reminds me, you owe me a new carpet.”
“What’re you talking about, woman?”
“You got blood on my carpet.”
“It was already covered in blood and dirt anyway!”
“Well, you got more on it. I liked how it was. So now you owe me a new one.”
“Are you hearing yourself? Where would you like me to go for said carpet? Anything I find you is gonna look exactly the same as the one already sitting on your goddamn floor!” He moves in slowly, cautiously like he’s practiced the art a million times. “Now I know you’re not worried about that piece of fabric out there. What is the problem?”
He swoops in close, close enough to wrap his arms around your waist with his hands clasped together at the dip in your back. You don’t push him away, though you want to. Although, all you think about is how your gun is sitting merely 5 inches away on the end table beside you. You could shoot him, if you wanted. But you probably won't.
Cooper’s eyes find your avoidant ones, the rough pads of his fingers grabbing at your chin to make you look at him. He’d never raise his full hand to you, smart man. God knows you’d think he was moving in to slap you, and his hand would be gone before he could yell ‘yeehaw’.
“You know damn well that I worry about you Coop.” Your arm finds his forearm, tugging his hand away from your face, “I just want you to stay for once, so I won't have to worry about you dying in the middle of the wasteland somewhere.” His hands find the dip in your back again, running along your skin until they rest on your hips.
“Hey now, you know I can’t stay, I got business to take care of out there.”
“Yeah, it’s always business. Always. Well you know what, so do I. So go on and get ‘fore I shoot yer sorry ass.” You step away from him, pushing him out of your way but his hands are quick to find your hips again and pull you back to him. Works like magnets.
“Now you're just being dramatic.. Alright alright, if you ask me nicely I’ll stay for a little longer than usual.”
You stare at him, eyebrows flexed in annoyance but the rest of your face has seemingly cooled down. You don’t need to say anything, he’s already agreed. He looks down at you with a soft smirk, thumbs rubbing into your hip bones.
“You are the easiest woman to please in the whole wasteland.” You feel your eyebrows relax as one of his hands reaches up to cup your cheek in his rough palm. His lips part, gazing at you with deep adoration.
“Think you’re making me go soft darlin’, gonna ruin my damn reputation.”
#fallout#the ghoul#cooper howard#cooper howard x reader#the ghoul x reader#fallout x reader#x reader#oneshot#drabble#female reader#fem reader
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first kiss ღ
Alastor finds out you’ve never been kissed.
MFA, SFW, TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF
Alastor was an odd fellow. Not in a bad way-he was just.. Strange, to say the least.
— ☆ —
He was constantly cooped up in his room, listening to jazz, or doing his little radio broadcasts. I knew better to not be a little vermin towards him. I mean, Alastor had a fuckton of power, who wouldn’t be scared of him? I stayed away from Alastor. His smile kind of freaked me out. He was never mean to me, but I still had my guard up out of reflex. Whenever I interacted with him, it was short, tasteless small talk. I think we could both tell that we wanted more from each other-to have a bond at least-but fear held us back like floodwater gates.
We both wanted more.
I was sitting in the lobby, scrolling on my phone. I felt the couch dip, weight being added. I looked up, squeaking when I saw Alastor right next to me. His grin was still wide like usual, but it seemed strained? His eyes bore into mine with an intensity that frightened me. Yet his gaze also intoxicated me. It made me want more. That stupid longing ached in my chest, and I wanted nothing more than to snuggle him, feel him, to… Love him. Alastor looked at me, cocking his head to the side. “Y/N?”My eyes shot up. He must’ve been calling out to me for a while. “Oh-I’m sorry, Alastor.. I got lost in my thoughts,” I said with a nervous chuckle, my cheeks dusted with a soft blush. Alastor let out a soft, cackle-filled laugh. “Oh, no need to apologize, dear! Now, what is it that’s on your mind? You were staring a lot.” My eyes widened further, embarrassment washing over my face like a tsunami wave. Was I staring at him? Was I staring at the wall? What did he mean when he said I was ‘staring’?! God, he was so fucking confusing!
“Y/N? You’re staring again, dear.” I heard Alastor say. Fuck.
I swallowed, sighing. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Alastor.. It’s just-“ “You’re attracted to me, Y/N.” “What-?!” My voice was a soft shriek. Alastor’s grin widened scarily. I didn’t even know the fucker could smile wider than he already was able to. I squirmed under his gaze. I felt like a tiny rat under the paw of a tomcat. Alastor chuckled darkly, his irises practically glowing. “My dear, it’s quite clear.. Your eyes shimmer when you gaze at me. It’s not the usual, frightened stare I get around here, no. It’s one of curiosity. As if you’re a lost soul, wandering without a shepherd. Is that right, dear?” My head slowly turned upwards towards Alastor. My face was bright with a blush, and I was shaking. He’d gotten my emotions right. More accurate than even I could get them.
Maybe I wasn’t scared of Alastor. Maybe I was just, without a doubt, in love with him. He patted my shoulder, kindly saying, “Give it some thought, Y/N. You know where my room is if you need me.”
And just as sudden as he’d appeared, he was gone in the blink of an eye. I didn’t know what the fuck just happened, but I knew I wanted to explore it further. And I wanted my exploration to be with Alastor.
— ✩ —
I found myself at Alastor’s door not even twenty-four hours later.
What the hell was I thinking? Just a little bit ago, I was scared out of my mind to even look at him. Now I was yearning for him. It was as if a gravitational pull was curling itself around my heart, forcing me towards the darkest pits of Hell, where there was no return or exit. I was willing to take the path. I wanted to know if Alastor truly wanted to help me, or just make another searing deal to a weak victim such as myself.
Alastor seemed delighted to see me in his room. He was eating a few slabs of grayish meat. I didn’t ask about it; I kinda wanted to keep down my dinner, thank you very much. Then, after some meaningless small talk, I managed to choke out,
“Al.. Kiss me.”
I heard Alastor’s internal freak out. It sounded like a record had been scratched. He fully turned to look at me, sitting across from him at his desk. In a soft voice, he asked, “Y/N, are you sure? This isn’t some.. Mania, is it?” “No-! No, it’s not!” I choked, sighing shakily. “I’m just confused right now, okay..? I don’t know what to do about my feelings, or how to move forward with them-“
Before I could even finish, his hands had cupped my cheeks, claws oddly warm as his lips brushed against mine.
The kiss wasn’t dirty at all. It was soft and kind; nearly chaste with hints of reassurance hidden throughout his coldish lips.
When we pulled away from each other, my heart was beating rapidly, I could feel blood in my ears, and my cheeks were flushed. Alastor grinned wickedly, and holding his cane, he purred, “Not confused anymore, dear?” All I could do was nod, whimpering out, “Yeah.. I think so.”
I should’ve told Alastor how ‘unsure’ I was ages ago.
— ✩ —
#Alastor#Alastor Hazbin hotel#Alastor x reader#Alastor Hazbin hotel fanfic#Alastor fanfic#hazbin hotel#masterlist#MFA#gn reader#fluff#SFW#Alastor SFW fanfic#cute#Drabble#hazbin hotel Drabble
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The bonus chapter that ended Nessian
This is honestly really surprising to me. Apparently there are people out there that think Nesta and Cassian are going to end up together. Have they not read their bonus chapter? SJM effectively ended them.
First of all, the way they think about each other is not romantic at all:
Cassian has no idea where he stands with her, and as you can see, he is so unhealthily obsessed with Nesta that he can't stop thinking about her and literally rushed to interact with her even though she doesn't even like him and is mean to him! If Sarah wanted this be be romantic, she could have made totally different choices. We could have learned they shared secret touches or looks, have their fingers trembling or breath catching around each other. But no, just confusion and unhealthy obsession on Cassian's part. Honestly, he kinda seems like an incel here.
Worse than that, it's clear he obviously only lusts after her:
He literally has not said one thing about her personality! He's just weirdly obsessed with her boobs and her scent and is just thinking about her stroking him. If we were supposed to have gleaned he has real feelings for her, and not just lust, couldn't Sarah have added something more sweet and personal here? I don't know. Maybe he could have brought her a thoughtful present that shows how much he sees and understands her when no one else does. But no. He just wants to get laid and touch her boobs. Honestly, ugh.
And let's not even get started about the Mor thing!
Cassian slept with Mor because he was jealous of Azriel! And if you recall, in ACOMAF Morrigan said Cassian just wants what he can't have and it has driven Cassian crazy for centuries that Mor never wanted him again after they slept together once. Rhys confirms this too.
Nesta clearly is not interested in Cassian. In fact, she knees him in the balls right after this. Honestly? This actually seems like a really toxic perpetuation of the Mor situation. Cassian yet again wants what he can't have, and it is actually in the canon text that he has this problem. Also, notice that he's ashamed of this situation and embarrassed to tell Mor about it? That's not a very good setup for a romance. He should have the full support of his friends and family in order for Nessian to work.
He calls himself stupid, he knows it's wrong, he just doesn't care for a moment because of the lust. Again, Nesta knees him in the balls. Not interested. Take a hint you creepy incel! And even though he was fully planning on devouring her lips, he is clearly not anymore!
But here's the real nail in the coffin:
Nesta forbids him from coming back. She threatens that she'll scream if he does and she is only willing to work with and talk to anyone but him. How is he supposed to get around that? How is their relationship supposed to develop if he is forbidden from talking to her and seeing her? I just don't understand how this is supposed to resolve in the books. At least hundreds, if not a few thousand of the tens or hundreds of thousands of SJM readers have read this bonus chapter. There's no way to come back from this.
Also- did you notice in ACOFAS Nessian's same drama is still playing out, but SJM interestingly enough introduces a character named Emerie and they have a scene together? Seems like SJM is clearly telling us Nessian isn't happening and setting up a new love interest for Cassian. Based on their limited interactions, it's actually really obvious to me that they are a much better fit and there is already a ton of foreshadowing that they are endgame. In fact, I think they are mates!
I swear this has nothing to do with the fact that I dislike Nesta. I mean, do I dislike her, and do I think Cassian deserves better? Yeah. But that's not relevant here. What's relevant is text and foreshadowing and the fact that I don't like Nesta and think Cassian deserves better because I've self inserted myself into Sarah's writing and want her to do what I want and I don't want Archeron sisters I don't like winding up with a bat boy I love.
Wait no... Ignore that second part I didn't mean to type that out.
#elriel#pro elriel#just being silly#i actually love all the sisters and bat boys this is just satire!#elriel endgame#elriel month 2024
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❤️🔥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
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@denileisariver @lochnymph @mewantpeepaw. @fandomdaydreamer @r3dheadedwitch
@paanchusblog @prettystrangething @untamedheart81 @kotourasan123 @valkyreally
@lunpycatavenue
#ao3#fanfiction#joel miller#the last of us#tlou#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller/you#joel miller/reader#violent heart#my fic#dark joel miller#smut#joel miller smut#joel miller imagine#stepdad joel miller#mechanic joel miller#the last of us smut#the last of us fanfiction#dark fic#pedro pascal
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divinity
content: Leon kennedy x gender neutral reader. Fluff/hurt/comfort. Mention of plagas leon. Body worship (sfw promise) implied thicker/chubby reader but i'm sure anyone can read it to feel good♡. Short and sweet♡
It's quite late as I post this, so it's not entirely proofread. Lmk if there are any annoying mistakes♡
Dc blogs do not interact
Leon masterlist♡
You're effortlessly beautiful in Leon's eyes, even if you don't believe so, even if stupidly cruel thoughts plague your mind from time to time. No one makes his heart beat and eyes light up the way that you do.
(Just looking at you feels like a privilege)
You're the most divine person he has laid his eyes on. All your features are so uniquely yours and he selfishly so wants to be the one, the only one, to have the honor of admiring you for the rest of his life. Map out all the birthmarks and scars as if they were the stars. Trace his hands over the waves of stretchmarks, over all the soft bumps and caves of your skin that fit so perfectly against his fingers, almost as if you were made entirely for him, or better yet, that he was perfectly fitted and made just for you.
His faith has been shattered and rebuilt many times over the years. He's not entirely sure what to believe in anymore, but he is certain he was meant for you. In every reality, in every form, and in every universe, Leon is destined to be yours. What else could explain the way your lips mold so flawlessly against his. Stealing the breath from his lungs all too sweetly and fogging up his mind with images of you?
what else could explain the reason why you're the one that makes him feel alive again. After everything that's happened, all that he's been through, he felt more like a walking corpse than a man. Even if the poison has been cleared from his veins, the bloodlust only shows up in his nightmares and the sharpness of his teeth has dulled. How long can he deal with monsters and abominations before he turns into one?
It's a question that races through his mind still and often, but it disintegrates the moment your eyes find his, and his heart starts to beat a little softer in his chest and his muscles don't feel so tense anymore, he's even able to crack a real, genuine smile.
(But honestly, who wouldn't? If they had someone like you, looking at them as if they'd hung the stars)
Loving you is healing for him. you make him feel like Leon again. not an agent, not a monster, not a mistake. just Leon. Call him sappy or love-sick, or call it diabolical that someone like him, dancing on the edge of death, blood stained permanently on his hands is infatuated with you, he really doesn't care as long as he has you to come home to. As long as he has you to live for.
Thank you for reading angels!
The request was along the lines of leon x chubby reader fluff comfort but I kinda went off track djdnd💀 perhaps another time but I hope this was comforting and enjoyable to read anyway.
#leon kennedy x gender neutral reader#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy drabble#re2 leon x reader#re4 leon x reader#id leon x reader#resident evil x reader#leon kennedy fluff#re4r!leon#re2!leon x reader#re4!leon x reader#leon kennedy x you#leon x reader#leon kennedy x y/n
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hello sharks (im pretending this is shark tank) my idea is what if we had the entire dsmp storyline and canon but it's told through the format of r/aita posts
r/AITA
u/GnfStan posted:
AITA for killing a child?
Right, i know how this looks, but please read all the way through before commenting. I (24M) have been getting bullied by this kid (16M) for months now. He disrupts all my plans, he griefs everything (we live in Minecraft), and he's just really annoying. I asked my friend G (24M) and my other friend XD (999999+M) and they both agreed he was clearly trying to sabotage me. At first, I tried to take the high road and be the bigger person, so I told him to give me his stupid discs that he's always holding onto. He refused and we had a duel and I beat him, because he's not the quickest tool in the shed. I believe he thought it was Hamilton RP. He's just like that. But then his brother (26M, kinda fine) blew himself up and I think that fucked with him a bit, because now when I made fun of him he barely reacted. So naturally when he burnt down my friend G's house I thought- what better opportunity to try to help this troubled child? Anyway, that's not why I killed him. That happened months later while I was in prison. The potatoes were really bad and he was really loud. Pretty sure he saw God
⬆️ 3 ⬇️ 4 💬 17
u/ZazaCrowFather replied: dream we're out of TNT get a fuckin move on mate
u/BIGMAN04 replied: CAN YOU KILL YOURSELF
u/enderpearls-and-wishingwells replied: ℭ𝔞𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔭 𝔭𝔩𝔰 𝔥𝔢'𝔰 𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔫𝔢𝔲𝔯𝔬𝔡𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔬𝔯
u/iAmNotAGnfStanIAmGnf: zzz
u/DREAMXD984982910490942 replied: Ả̶̺̹̄͒́̀̌̕̕Ã̴͎̣͖̙̮͔͊̿͐́́Ẃ̴̝͉̦̖̮̺͈̱̖̻́̇͛́̈́̀́͘H̶̡̳͇̬̪̠͈̰͙̿̈́8̵̹͉͛̀̈́͑9̵͕̰̮͓̰͈̜̮̈́ͅ3̴̥̗̊̇̑̎̾̋̍͒̈͘͜1̸̗͙̺̖̭͇͇̻̭͈̑̅̐́̂̋0̶̱̀̈́̌͌̊̍̚̕9̴̨͉̜̼̘̳͉̰̠͌͒̍̿͂̌͂́͜͝͠0̶̬̯͓̲̠̮̋͌͂̑͗̏̀;̵̦̜̝͆͗̇̇̓̍;̴̢̧͍̘̣͕̮̯̠̥̿͋̎̓́͛͛͆̇͝;̴̢̗̖̉͆͜.̶̢̭̫̳̩̙͒̾̎͂͒ͅ/̶̧̻̫̱͚͔̺̟͆́1̵̡͔̝̩̪̰̒̀̈̽̈́̈̾̐͝͠4̶̧̣̪̰̝̻̆͊͋̋9̵̡̎̀͝0̸̢̗̞̝̊́̐́̊2̷̰͔̖̗̤̾̇̓̄͝ͅ9̷̥̺̗̘̻͔̺̖̭̖̑̋̂́̾͗͠4̶̩͒͊́̋̒̇͝
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A little morbid but
It’s not really a secret that I’m like, sickly lol, and in the past year or so it’s been discovered I likely have a lower age life expectancy yadda yadda…idk, it’s sad, but at the same time somewhat liberating. If I have less time that just means my time here is more purposeful.
I’m working on semi retiring from professional art in the next year or so. I want the time I get to make art to be something I do for myself, as much as I love drawing for others. There’s a few projects I really want to make, stories I feel like I need to tell. I think just having a job that isn’t art (I’m learning to code again!) will be very invigorating. I’ll still be doing stuff in the meantime though while I learn to help support my family.
I hope that regardless of if I was gone tomorrow or when I’m a 100 that I left some kinda good in the world, maybe made someone feel more understood, or just that they thought my art looked nice and it made their day better. Or maybe I did something nice as a barista, I connected with a lot of people like that.
I’ve already talked to some of my friends about inheriting some ocs if anything were to happen, and it makes me happy that things I loved so much will keep going in a way. Some will come with me regardless though, like Dia.
This is more personal than I usually am but idk. I have the urge to be honest more and more lately, professionalism seems small in the world to me right now.
I’m excited to see what I’ll do. Thank you for reading and looking at my art, it means a lot.
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I have no desire to get you in trouble but I would be curious to hear your thoughts on the new episode and the preview because I also have.. thoughts and I'm interested in what other people clocked as not great or kinda.. idk. other people's concerns, because I have had a lot of them and I never see people really talk about those things
they're doing a new format this season where they film a bunch of rp episodes in a row then take a break when there's a battle so the crew can get the battleset ready, so I understand the dissonance. but the tone of this episode from the tone of last episode was SO jarring. I was ready to chew drywall at the end of episode 17 but we head into the episode 18 fight and at the end all I can say is... damn! that sure is a battle that happened. the entire fight felt really low-stakes even though objectively a few of the bad kids were in mortal danger, but the mood at the table was so relaxed and chill and there was almost no roleplay at all... which drove me so crazy
>no rp except for fun silly party stuff (no callbacks to the adaine elven oracle in a storm thing? after all the fun setup last time??)
>fought 8 different antagonists and none of them said a word
>nobody questioned why or what oisin's grandma or all those dragon were doing there they just started taking them out one by one like raid battles in world of warcraft
>cassandra/nightmare king showed up only to not make any impact or get a single word in
>dos2 lady vengeance fight did the floating boat/ballistas/dragon fight better SMH
and then after all of that we're headed straight into ANOTHER battle episode judging by the preview... and it's against the rat grinders and porter/jace! let me out I want PLOT & DIALOGUE fhjy cannot end like this (5 hours straight of battle where they just kill everyone that moves). there's 2 eps left so I really hope they do the last ep as a 4 hour long roleplay only epilogue episode because as we've all seen ending campaigns on a battle leads to frankly really rushed character and world decisions. it's ultra disappointing too because I loved this entire season so much so far. the setup and buildup and plot points and mystery of fhjy is the best they've ever done it in dimension 20 period
ep 18 fhjy battle was a letdown to me... not giving the party an rp episode after 3 hours of loredump + going straight into a final battle without being able to interact with the world after gaining info is bad. they should've had a chance to process everything they learned about house sunstone, porter's plan, the rat grinders being used as ascension fodder, whatever the whole deal behind ambrosia and lucy frostkettle and why they needed a helios cleric in buddy IN ROLEPLAY. I don't want all this stuff explained to me after the battle by brennan or in some throwaway lines in the adventuring party - I want the bad kids to talk to people! I want them to investigate! I want fig to pull some BS with porter knowing the full extent of all his plans. it really sucks for us as an audience too to be hit with all this lore and get approximately 0 time for it to sink into the implications of how the worldbuilding was shaped by it or realizations of "ohhh that's why that happened at the beginning of the season" before we go straight into killing everyone.
with the way this is going I don't have any confidence they're gonna be able to actually empathize at all with the rat grinders too before they start lopping heads off because in battle episodes everyone kind of just. becomes numbers and an objective to take out except for pet favourite npcs of the cast. and they've mostly been interacting with the rat grinders as nuisances all season 😭 I'm PRAYING to be proven wrong and the last 2 episodes of this are fantastic but it's not looking good folks
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devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes • ttfd
chapter one of the tortured firefighters department
masterlist | next chapter
cw: fem!reader, afab!reader, description of clothes, mentions of food, mentions of alcohol, proofread by my bye-lingual ass (let me know if i forgot anything)
You knocked on the white door again, not sure why you feel nervous about all of this. It’s just a small get-together at one of your coworker’s houses. For sure it’s better than spending another night in the library, writing your thesis, but it kinda makes you nervous.
So this is what life looks like when away from the screens that raised you?
From the East Coast all the way to LA to get your PhD, the city of angels was no more than a stranger on the window. Before moving, you had worked on the 9-1-1 call center for your region because the shift’s schedule could actually fit your undergrad and master’s schedule — also the money was enough to survive, and you could check your notes on slow shifts. But once after a massive power outage, your superior thought your desk was too small for your brain.
Not that you were a bad dispatcher — your responses and action times were above average, actually —, but he’d seen how you managed the data influx, pinning all the accidents, teams on call and reported issues on the white board and shouting directions for quicker routes and delay problems. After that, you’d spend more time helping fixing turnaround times and implementing some sort of algorithm and protocols for when the next disaster hits. At some point, they transferred you to Florida during the hurricane season because of your reputation — that spread like a wildfire, believe you or not.
You lasted enough to finish your master’s degree and hop on a plane to LA, for your PhD in dynamical systems theory. You had a job offer, leaving your 9-1-1 days behind for some small desk and endless boring demands. It didn’t last much, though, because, after eight months, it made you miss the adrenaline rush and large income of data from the 9-1-1.
That’s how you ended up at the Los Angeles 9-1-1 call center in Metro, always happy to jump on some calls and help other dispatchers with logistics and patterns. Nobody warned you about tsunamis or earthquakes, but you knew you could manage them just like a pro — if they ever happened again, which was a matter of time.
“Hey! I was starting to think you would bail on me!” Maddie opened the door, the genuine happiness glow irradiating and making her smile almost unbearable. “Please, come in.”
“Got caught up in traffic. Who knew the logistics mastermind would be stuck in a casual traffic jam?” You gave her the flowers you bought and held the brownie pan with both hands. “Hope I’m not too late.”
“Oh no, you arrived just in time! Here, let me take care of this,” she took the pan from your hands and motioned to the living room. “Make yourself at home. And thanks for the flowers!”
“Our last guest, finally!” Howard, aka Chim, Maddie’s boyfriend, left his place on the counter to greet you. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the voice!”
“Hope I didn’t disappoint you.” You hugged him, your extroverted persona finally happy to be in a room with real people, and not just some endless phone calls and work talk. “Sorry I’m late.”
“That’s ok, those guys are too busy with their games to notice we are a little behind schedule. But Jee is getting hangry” He pointed to the couch, where three adults, one child and one baby were too busy with the TV screen to notice your arrival.
“I guess the kid’s table is full tonight.”
“Hey, we’ve heard that!” One of them screamed from the couch, not bothering to look in your direction. He raised his arm, the tattoos across his skin showing against his white skin, in protest.
“Nice crowd.” You followed Maddie into the kitchen, Chim’s voice in the background saying it was the last race.
“I’m so glad you’re here. Water, juice or some alcohol?” She offered while reaching for the glasses. “Oh, Chim made some Margaritas.”
“I’d love one of those, thank you.” You fixed your green dress, somehow feeling overdressed. Not exactly your fault, when Maddie invited you for dinner, you visualized all the scenarios in your mind. Afraid of looking lazy, you went for a flowy green dress and a batch of brownies, to show some appreciation.
Between Margarita sips and after work gossip — because, nowadays, your work schedules mostly were off sync —, you helped Maddie setting the table and dishes. And, as expected, one race became four, with Chim playing the commentator. Maddie took the chance to show you the houses they were applying for, making good use of Jee’s quiet bedroom to talk.
“Are the others not good enough or just too expensive?” She had been talking about house scouting for weeks, and even helped you find a new place while doing so.
“You’d be impressed to see the final price of those houses once you track all the problems.” She played with her hair. “How’ve you been doing?”
“My thesis is starting to follow me like an unwanted ghost, and work has been— no, not gonna jinx it. Moving has been a pain in the ass, but thanks for telling me about that loft. The rent is actually acceptable and the view is amazing!”
“Glad it worked for you! And don’t thank me, actually it was—”
“Hey, Mads, we’re just waiting for you two.” The tall blue eyed guy stood in the hallway and gave the door a weak tap. Oh, tattoo guy, you noticed. “Chim is destroying the dumplings Albert made and Jee is not happy with being left out of the girls reunion. You better hurry up.”
“We are right behind you, Buck.” She said, bringing you with her to the dining table.
After some quick introductions — Albert, Chim’s half-brother; Eddie and his son Christopher, and Buck, Maddie’s little brother —, you indulged in some dumplings and pork ramen. Albert was experimenting with Korean cuisine, talking about opening a restaurant and finally having enough money to move out to his own place.
“Well, I think you should do it. I’d be happy to order this every day,” you said, pointing your chopsticks to the almost empty bowl.
“Thanks– sorry, what is your name again?”
“Everyone just call me Brains.” The nickname stuck since your first major catastrophe at the call center job — and maybe a little because of your bachelor.
“Wait, I think I’ve met you before.” Eddie announced and looked at Chris. “You went to his school a few weeks ago to talk about pursuing math in college, right?”
“I did a small presentation, yeah. My professor asked me for a favor since his kids are students there, but he had a full schedule. I had a nice time with the kiddos.”
“She is super smart!” Chris shared, in his own words, a little about your presentation. Talking to the younger ones about advanced math proved to be a challenge, but once you showed them all the cool things math made possible, you had their attention.
“Why are you working on the 9-1-1 instead of, I don’t know, teaching in college?” Buck inquired, beer in hand.
“Would you believe me if I said I have an adrenaline addiction and I can’t stay away from trouble?” You pressed your lips together and shook your head.
“Oh, he would, because he was addicted to—”
Maddie slapped Chimney on the arm. “Hey, there’s two kids in the room.”
And all eyes were on Chris, who was too busy with his noodles to notice, and Jee, playing with her bites of veggies. You laughed, leaving your empty cup on the table, and reaching for the last dumpling.
“I guess we are all addicted to something,” you stared at Buck's blue eyes and took a bite. “Maybe once I get my PhD, I’ll go full professor and find some adrenaline on handing out really hard exams. But the chances are very low.”
“You should try being part of LAFD, you might like it,” Albert suggested.
“I can barely carry my boxes upstairs, being that physical isn’t for me.” The admission made you shyly smile, because you were definitely hinting that firefighters were strong. “Math, on the other hand…”
“Please, don’t give her any more ideas! Since Brains started working with us, the dispatching process changed for the better.” Maddie brought her hands together and begged in a joking tone.
A few Margaritas and some dessert later, you were helping Maddie with the dishes while Albert played with Christopher, and Buck was holding Jee so she wouldn’t throw a tantrum. Chim asked Eddie to help with a few construction questions, feeling like he was missing some important topics while house scouting.
“I think I’m done for the night,” you told her as you closed the cabinet door. “Thanks for the invite, Maddie. You were right, I needed a break.”
“I know when I see someone on the verge of burnout.” You looked at her, the tequila making the simple action of laughing much more easier. “Let me know when you’re settled at your new place so I can get you a housewarming gift.”
“Oh please, don’t bother, Maddie. I’m sure you’re too busy with Jee and moving matters.”
“Sure you don’t want some ramen for tomorrow? Albert may be a good cook, but he has no idea of the measurements.”
“You’re sick of the smell, right?”
“A little.” She smirked.
“I guess I won’t have to worry about lunch tomorrow.”
“Make two, Mads!” Buck approached the kitchen counter. “Leaving already, Brains?”
“Yeah, gonna finish moving to my new place tomorrow.” Maddie left the blue tupperware in front of you. “Thanks, I’ll bring it to you next wednesday.”
“Can I get more brownies?”
“Anything for my favorite dispatcher.” You looked around, opting for a quick goodbye. “It was nice to meet y’all. Again, thanks for the invite, Maddie.”
“Nice to meet you too, Brains,” Buck said, getting closer. “Hope to speak to you soon, dispatcher Brains.”
“I hope we don’t, firefighter Buckley.” You teased him. “Have a good night, guys.”
You left Maddie’s place, drove to your new place, opened the door for an empty apartment, stored the ramen in the fridge, climbed up the stairs and fell face first into your bed, shoes and all.
If you didn’t know Maddie, you’d say she had second intentions with that dinner.
author's note: hi guys! chapters will be short because it helps me keep the momentum with the writing (and keep the impostor's syndrome away from my efforts). also yeah i'm using TTFD as an acronym bc i choose a whole ass long title for the fic. huge shout out to my love my bestie my soulmate @munsonsreputation for always supporting me (love you kaaaay). also hi casey welcome to the 9-1-1 fandom, thank you for the endless edits on tiktok haha. i guess i see y'all next week...
#evan buckley fanfic#evan buckley#evan buckley x reader#evan buckley x you#9 1 1 abc#9 1 1 fanfiction#evan buck buckely#buck fanfiction#evan buckley imagine#effie writes
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I tend to think a lot about Sol as a character - sorry guys Caldwells cartoonish bugs bunny daffy duck charms are my favorite so I knew I was going to love Sol the moment I met him - so Sol often occupies my mind.
I love ducklycule because of just how obvious it is that they care so much about each other. They aren’t complete unless all three of them are together. Sol and Calder defend Callie all the time, try to cheer her up. Calder would do anything for Callie and Sol, he sacrificed himself so that they would be safe. Sol and Callie’s immediate focus was to get Calder back. Jake and Emily mentioned in the most recent mixed bag heartside chat that if Sol got taken by Alexandrite it would have severely changed Callie and Calder’s characters because Sol was the most optimistic of them. Like I know all the naddpod pcs would do anything for eachother (besides maybe bon freres and trinyvale triplets ngl) but ducklycule holds a special place in my heart their soulmateism is off the roof.
I started this out saying I think about Sol, because I do. I think about how before anything, before Albin, Sol was just alone. And then he wasn’t- and I know its a cute thing and that he holds it with pride but he was ‘just’ a sidekick guy for a long time. I think this is where I get a lil fanon-y or headcanon-y whatever its called but I indulge myself in my silly little thoughts about this silly frog!!! This stuff might not be the most accurate to canon!!! IDC!!!
But I just think it’s neat to think about Sol not only standing on the same ground as others for the first time but being valued the way that Calder and Callie value him. Like I dunno just throwin the idea out there of perhaps maybe Sol feeling a little nervous about where he stands with the two perhaps sometimes thinking they look better together just the two of them than with Sol tagging along. Like he’s just the sidekick of two beautiful people who deserve each other and he’s just lucky to be at their side. And then Calder and Callie just immediately showing how not true that is with their actions- like how in the most recent episode they held Sol’s hand to imbue Aryox’s power. And how Callie just understood Sol’s Goonola (trademark pending) markers. And how they wouldn’t be the same without him. I know some of these were bits but Im the kinda guy that gets given an inch and takes a mile!!!!
All in all, viva ducklycule I care about them so much and especially Sol and sometimes a guys just gotta imagine up a hurt/comfort scenario in his head. Thinking abt writing abt it, who knows!!! Would love to hear yall’z ducklycule hcs gimmie plz
#not another dnd podcast#naddpod#naddpod campaign 3#sol bufo#calder kilde#calliope petrichor#also you could have calder with the same insecurity after Sol and Callie’s make out lie#cute moment of Calder being like “YOU think you don’t belong??? *I* think I don’t belong!#and they’re both like dang..no…we both belong. together. with callie.#and then they all make out the end#can you tell im aro and am making it up as i go#almost forgot#ducklycule
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Goosebumps
Keigo Takami x Gn! Reader
Hi, I made this while listening to Goosebumps by Travis Scott & Kendrick very great song I 🫶🏻 Kendrick, unfortunately this is kinda long at least in my opinion. Reader and Keigo are in a barley situationship also the theres some sexual tension towards the end. Enjoy!
Your relationship wasn't anything serious, hell it wasn't even a relationship by most people's standards. Hawks was always painted as a player or a bad boy, with a big ego and the raw skill to prove it, if only they knew. I mean they wouldn't be wrong, he was talented and a good hero at least at the start. He puffed his chest acting like the biggest man in the room. In some ways he was, he was the number two hero after all.
But being popular and wearing a mask doesn't stop him from being vulnerable. Behind it all he wasn't Hawks, he was Keigo, and that's the part of him only you can see. Despite his act, you know he's completely smitten by you. But, you seem to effortlessly glide through life although not completely unfazed by his advances. Every interaction with you sends his heart aflutter, yet you remain unfazed, your demeanor never faltering. You know about guys like him, at least you thought you did. It's like a game of cat and mouse, with Hawks desperately trying to win your affection while you remain just out of reach.
He seems to go to great lengths to impress you, it's honestly embarrassing, in a cute way, whether it's showering you with gifts and compliments or acting cocky to impress. Yet, you always seem to brush it off with a nonchalant smile, leaving him both frustrated and captivated by you.
The Pro-hero gala was in full swing, a display of glamour that seemed to reflect Japan's admiration for its mighty protectors. Keigo, as expected, was the center of attention, effortlessly charming the crowd with his very presence. As you made your way through the bustling venue, you couldn't help but be amazed at the sight. It was rare for someone like you, who worked behind the scenes as a secretary at a pro-hero agency, to be invited to such an exclusive event. But tonight, you were ready to make the most of it. And then, amidst the sea of capes, masks, and hero’s partners, you spotted him—Keigo, looking every bit as striking as he did in the headlines. He was surrounded by admirers, his trademark smirk never faltering as he regaled them with tales of his latest exploits. "Yeah, but I can't take all the credit those little sidekicks put in the work." He says as his admirers look at him like he hung the stars in the sky.
You tried to walk by without catching too much attention especially not his, sadly that wasn't going to be an option for you. One of his fangirls pushed you trying to get closer to him, causing you to be chest-to-chest with Keigo. Damn it.
Hawks looked down at you in shock, his eyes lighting up with recognition. "Well, if it isn't [Your Name]," he said, his voice laced with a hint of surprise. "What's someone like you doing at a fancy shindig like this?"
You chuckled, feeling a surge of cockiness despite your earlier nerves. "Oh, you know, just thought I'd mingle with the heroes for a change," you replied casually, trying to keep your composure in the presence of the number two hero. To your surprise, the Hawks didn't seem to mind you bumping into him. Instead, he flashed you a charming grin. "Well, I'm glad you decided to grace us with your presence," he said, his tone playful. "I was starting to think tonight couldn't get any better, but here you are," he said, his voice low and smooth.
You couldn't help but laugh at his playful charm. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Hawks," you teased, feeling a warmth spreading through you at his words. He leaned in closer, the scent of his cologne enveloping you. "Everywhere, you say? I might have to test that theory," he replied, his breath brushing against your ear in a way that sent shivers down your spine. Your heart raced at the suggestive tone in his voice, but you didn't back down, you couldn't. "Well, you'll have to catch me first," you shot back, a playful challenge in your tone. You couldn't let him win too easily.
Hawks grinned, his confidence never wavering. "Oh, I intend to," he said, his eyes locking with yours in a silent promise.
And with that, he extended his hand, "Care to dance?"
And just like that, you found yourself swept up in the gala, dancing the night away with Hawks by your side. No, not Hawks, Keigo, the night was shaping up to be far more than just another run-in with Keigo. Tonight, you weren't just a bystander in his world—you were a part of it, if only for a fleeting moment.
#hawks x reader#mha hawks#bnha hawks#kiego takami#kiego takami x reader#bnha x reader fluff#bnha x reader#kiego x reader#hawks my hero academia#hawks x y/n#my hero academia#hawks x you#hawks
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accidentally in love - 9, don't overthink
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‘Alright,’ Oikawa places his cup on the desk and sits in front of you, ‘Now that we have coffee we can start.’
You start working on your project, you tell him what to write and he types away on his pc. This is going way better than you thought it would. He’s actually collaborating with you instead of scribbling on the side of your notebook or kicking your legs under the table to annoy you like he would do in class. A couple of hours pass by without even noticing.
‘I think this is enough for today,’ he says leaning back on his chair, ‘Besides, I have practice soon.’
You hum and get up to see how the project is coming together. You look down at the screen from behind the boy.
‘It’s alright, but it’s looking kinda bland,’ you say.
‘What do you mean?’
‘We should add some pictures, also maybe this section would be better in this part right here,’ you say pointing at the screen.
‘It’s fine we have to do a presentation so we have to speak, people don’t need to see it,’ Oikawa says.
He tries to close his laptop but you stop him, ‘The professor will see it so it matters, it should stand out.’
‘Honestly, only you could worry about such a thing,’ he turns his head to you, ‘We’re not gonna do that, it’s a waste of time.’
‘Fuck you, we’ll do it.’
‘We won’t.’
‘We will.’
He gets up and towers over you, ‘Look, angel, it really is just a waste of time.’
You didn’t even care what the fight was about anymore, the guy would just get on your nerves like no one else could and you just wanted to be right.
‘We are doing it. I don’t care what you think, sometimes you just need to shut up and—’
His lips on yours steal the words coming out of your mouth, his hands on your waist stop any thoughts from forming in your mind. It was just a peck but it still made you feel sparks in your body.
‘You need to shut up,’ he whispers on your lips.
With that, the kiss is long forgotten and you are angry again, ‘You are so annoying,’ you want to hit something, want to say something to get on his nerves more than he does with you but he’s so close, too close, ‘I can’t stand you.’
He gives you another peck, ‘Neither do I,’ and another, until he’s constantly kissing you, until your hand are in his hair, until your lips part, until he seals your lips together and deepens the kiss.
You’re not sure why he’s kissing you. Maybe he really just wants to shut you up but it doesn’t matter because you take it as a challenge and kiss him back. Maybe you want him to be breathless, so he’ll be the one to shut up. Maybe you are liking it. Maybe you don’t even care because your mind is in a thick fog and the only clear thing is his touch on you. You can’t stop and you don’t want to. Oikawa also doesn’t seem like he’s stopping anytime soon. Your heart is beating out of your chest and you’re already thinking about what will happen next. Will he confess he liked you this whole time, will you confess you like him too, will you start dating? Wait do you even like him or is he just a good kisser? What if he’ll act as if nothing happened? And why do you even care? You were pretty sure you hated him. Maybe you should stop, grab your things and leave. Maybe you’ll ask the professor to do the project alone or better yet you could drop the class, drop college and move to another country so you’ll never see him again and if someone has to get hurt it’ll be him.
Oikawa pushes you back until you hit his bed and sit on it. A hand on your neck and the other holding your jaw still as his lips keep moving on yours. You think it’s really unfair that his lips are so soft. You hope yours are softer and are driving him insane. He moves from your lips to your jaw and your neck and, as good as that feels, you kind of miss them nibbling on your bottom lip. He bites gently on your neck and sucks on your smooth skin. It feels like a fever dream but the noise of the front door opening wakes you up. You pull Oikawa’s head away from you as whoever is entering says a loud ‘Shittykawa, I’m back!’
Oikawa takes a good look at you, semi-lying on his bed with disheveled hair and smudged lipstick. He feels himself blushing. He brings his thumb to your lips and tries to clean up the mess from your makeup.
You quickly get up and stuff your things in your bag just in time for his roommate to enter the bedroom.
‘Oh, hi,’ he says, ‘Sorry, I didn't know there was someone over.’
‘It’s okay Iwa, we were done with the project already.’
Okay, maybe dropping out of college and moving to another country is a bit dramatic, but if he wants to act as if nothing happened, you can do that too.
‘I was leaving anyway,’ you reassure him as you walk towards the door, then you turn to Oikawa, ‘And for the project, we’ll do as I say.’
You leave clueless at how Iwaizumi didn’t miss the hickey on your neck and the faint traces of your lipstick on Oikawa’s face.
notes:
y/n’s thoughts are a mess lol
oikawa is basically already in love but he’s scared of rejection and doesn’t want to accept his feelings so he resolves by arguing and shamelessly flirting with you
i hope there aren't any typos in the written portion.. if there are some ignore them :)
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#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu smau#oikawa tooru#oikawa tooru x reader#oikawa tooru x you#oikawa tooru smau
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