#and i know i got too much shit. so. if it came down to it. yeah i could hire moving helpers. if i needed to.

[writerunnamed]

note: This is something I've wanted to write for a while but I am well aware that not everyone will be into it. There are a few stories I want to tell that aren't the norm so I decided to start this nameless blog to tell them. I am not tagging anyone, if you find it then you find it. xo Joel(stepdad), significant age gap, female reader. 18+ legal, reader is 20 (warnings: pov sex, Joel spits on the 😸, boobie play, really inappropriate dirty talk, an unused sex toy [will make an appearance in another chapter], female masturbation, daddy kink, unfit parent) 5.6k word count

He takes up so much space, and it wasn’t just physically. He took up space emotionally, mentally. Mentally most of all. Your thoughts always drifted back to him. Cyclical. An elliptical pattern making him the top of every list you’d go through in your head. He seemed to know it too, in a stoic, quiet, largely unsettling way. Older, attractive men tended to do that. 

It started during that in-between time, when summer, losing your job, and having to move back home pushed you to figure out what the fuck you actually wanted to do with your life seemed to come together like the planets aligning. The precipice of a turning point, a ticking clock counting down the days until your childhood bedroom would be turned into a gym, or an office, or a guest bedroom. The lukewarm welcome from your mother would ice over and you’d really have to get your shit together. 

Your mother was what people who didn’t know her would call ‘a free spirit’, what you called her, was a fucking mess. 

Your earliest memories consist of having to remind her to buy milk or to pay the bill because the electricity had turned off while watching cartoons in front of the tiny, living room tv. You’d had to remind her, in not so many words, that she was the mother, and you were the child. 

To your friends, she was the cool mom. The party mom. Your house was the place to be because she didn’t ask questions, she left her cigarettes unattended and didn’t mind if a few went missing. She kept the bar cart stocked, even if there was nothing but flies in the cupboard and nothing but half-empty condiment bottles in the fridge. Your friends loved it. 

She flirted with the boys your age, she gave sex tips to the girls. 

You smiled when they congratulated you on having the cool mom, and when they all went home, you retreated and pretended to be happy. 

Joel settled her down. Met her in a bar and moved in quick. He came into the picture when you were fifteen and you were almost sure he’d be just like the rest of the lovers she’d taken over the years. You’d given the whole thing six months. Half a year for him to see what a fucking disaster she was. Six months to be a fucking creep, to cheat or get cheated on. 

The only differences you could clock at first were that he was self-employed, and marginally better looking than his predecessors.

He was firmer though, less malleable than the others she’d brought around, he seemed immune to her charms and that only inflamed her. It made her desperate for his approval and his attention. She would throw a tantrum, or play one of her mind games but he’d never rise to her bait. He was patient for the most part, until he hit his breaking point and his temper reared its head. A temper only she seemed to bring out in him. 

To you, it was pathetic. 

He didn’t try with you though, there was no flattery or strong hand, only a silent respect. In a sense, he treated you as the adult, and her as the child. It worked for you, if he’d expected you to call him dad he would have been laughed at mercilessly and he seemed to know this. 

The disturbing part was his respect and his healthy avoidance of you worked its own kind of magic. It made him an enigma, made you curious as to what he got out of the whole thing. A home, sure. A woman who was obsessed with him, yes. Sex–yes. You heard it enough for it to turn your stomach. By the sounds of it, he knew what he was doing.

The thought sickened the healthy part of your brain. The other part though, the part flooding your body with hormones, making it come to life with curiously intense sexual feelings, that part wanted to know what it was he was so good at. How could he pull those sounds out of anyone? It was easier to imagine him with some faceless woman. 

It was shameful to imagine yourself. 

The thought–although enough to fuel a desperate journey of self-exploration–always filled you with an insurmountable guilt. 

For those first few years you could barely look at him. Your mother took it as a healthy dose of teenage rebellion. That only aggravated you more. She never asked questions, never dug to see what the cause of your obvious distaste for her partner was about and so again, you retreated. He, however, kept to the outs of your path. He followed your lead, he let you control any and every part of all of your interactions. He didn’t ask questions. He kept the lights on. He kept the fridge full. 

He burrowed his way in, whether you liked it or not. 

When you turned eighteen, you moved out. He helped, did his ‘fatherly’ duties and moved you into the apartment, he urged your mother to take you on an extensive grocery trip, spoke to your landlord about the safety of the building. You supposed you should have been grateful, you should have said thank you, given him some sort of acknowledgement that you appreciated his help but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Instead you said your mumbling goodbyes, and promptly closed the door on them. Neither of them complained. 

The euphoria of venturing out on your own had lost its shine depressingly quick. A string of chronically unserious boyfriends came and went, the rent climbed higher than you could keep up with, and while already living paycheck to paycheck, you lost your job. Your cellphone had taken the brunt of your frustration at having to call your mother, begging her to let you come back home while you got back on your feet a little more than two years after you’d left. 

Your teeth gnawed at your lips, your fingernails dug into the skin around your cuticles in the attempt to keep your voice sweet and pleading, in the end it was his voice that you’d heard in the background, telling–no, commanding her to say yes. That he would be your champion twisted at your insides. Maybe a small, healthy part of you hoped he’d put up a fight, tell you that you were too old to be coming back home and that you had to figure it out on your own like an adult. 

A healthy part of you hoped that he’d save you again, only from yourself. Hanging up with a heavy, resigned sigh, you set about starting the trek home, ignoring the swirling mess of annoyance, confusion, and perverse glee in your stomach. 

-

The first few days were spent in a depressive episode, a seemingly inescapable loop of sleeping in late, leaving your room only when the house was empty to raid the kitchen for something to eat, scrolling mindlessly–blindly–on your phone and then staying up way too late only to do it all over again. 

They didn’t bother you, but if the annoyed sighs and narrowed eyes from your mother were anything to go by, the talk was coming soon. After the third day of the cycle, you circumvent it and wake up early-ish to shower and dress in something other than ratty old sweats long forgotten by an ex you couldn’t quite remember. 

You came down to find Joel sitting at the kitchen table. His eyes tracked the lines of you, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. 

Your heart leapt. He should have been at work by now. 

“Good morning.” It came out croaky, your voice almost reluctant to come out. 

“Mornin’.” His hair was slicked back, the gray almost sparkling in the golden light. You fiddled with the hem of your shirt. His eyes were so intense, you found yourself stuck in place, like a deer in headlights and that ever present, deep-seeded anger reared its head. It was irrational that he should frustrate you so much with his calm presence. 

“Coffee’s fresh, if you want some.” He jut his chin out to the pot, lowering his eyes to his paper once more. Once his gaze had shifted, you found you could breathe again. You mumbled a thanks and moved to pour yourself a cup, thankful, if unsure why, to focus on something concrete instead of abstract self-reflection.

“Your mama’s gon’ be late tonight. I thought I could pick up a pizza on the way home.” He says it offhand and again, your heart races. 

“Whatever.” You scrunch your face up in annoyance, it sounded like such a bullshit, teen response. He doesn’t comment on it, and that somehow makes it worse. You beat yourself about it as you root around in the fridge for the milk. The cereal you liked was in the top cupboard, and you’re not quite tall enough to reach it. 

You heard his chair scoot back and then suddenly he’s there, beside you, pressed up tight. You follow the long line of his throat as he stares up, reaching the box with ease while one big, warm hand lands on your lower back. He smells like the laundry detergent your mother insists on buying mixed with something else. Manly, smoky, with coffee laced through. Your cunt clenches nonconsensually as he stands there and stares down at you, his whole front pressed against your side, his hand still holding your lower back. Your mouth hangs open, stupidly, and he raises an eyebrow again forcing something to kickstart deep in your gut. 

“You okay there babygirl?” The endearment feels unwholesome.

It triggers something strange, strengthening the underlying conflict for him. There’s a lilt in his tone you don’t like, maybe because deep down you like it too much. Maybe you don’t want to admit that, or analyze anything about what the fuck is happening in your body. In your psyche. 

“Yeah.” You step out of his bubble, barely managing not to trip over yourself in your haste to get away and put a healthy distance between you. 

“Yes. Thank you.” You take a deep breath, pressing your lips together tight in what you hope to God is a neutral expression. 

He lets out a bemused huff through his nose, a mischief in his eyes shining out at you that you’ve never seen directed at you. You’ve seen it used on your mom. You’ve seen her go giggly and flirty whenever he looked at her like that. A half-formed escape plan starts to form but he saves you from the need, he puts his things in the dishwasher, and nods his head in goodbye. 

You practically hold your breath until you hear his truck rumble out of the driveway, and down the street. 

-

You manage to avoid him for a few days, staying out late catching up with friends, or feigning a need for rest. You’ve convinced your mother that your days are now spent job hunting, and for the most part they are. You leave in the morning, avoiding any and all contact and you get home late, creeping up the stairs much like you did in your teens even though you’d really never needed to. Your mother never enforced a curfew, and when Joel joined the picture, he didn’t pry. 

The luck didn’t last though, you got over-confident. He was sprawled out on the sofa, up uncharacteristically late one night when you padded through the house. 

“You’re up late.” You quickly check the accusatory tone, “Don’t you have to get up early?” Better, it comes out more concerned than annoyed and he nods. He wore a threadbare t-shirt, the fabric of it having been through the wash too many times to keep its shape. Light, gray sweats were stretched almost obscenely tight over his spread thighs, pooling at his crotch from being shoved up by the couch. 

“Couldn’t sleep. Come sit, we can watch some tv.” He pats the seat next to him and despite the deep desire to retreat into the Joel-free haven of your bedroom, you cannot seem to disobey him. 

You settle beside him on the couch, a little further away than was necessary. He chuckles softly. 

“I ain’t gonna bite you, girl. Not unless you ask nicely.” 

You pretend you don’t hear it, choosing instead to compartmentalize whatever game he’s playing and stare at the screen. He flips through the channels, settling on one thing for a few minutes before moving to something else until he finds a movie that’s already close to midway. There’s an electricity in the air, something about him galvanizing the space between you, charging it enough to make the hairs on your arms stand on end. You frown to yourself, barely paying attention while fighting an increasingly confusing mental battle. Why is it so hard to be around him? Why does he inspire such scorn? Is it scorn at all?

You rub at your eyes, scrubbing your hands down your face in a feeble attempt to wipe the slate clean. 

He’s just a man, a man your mother had chosen and for better or worse they seem to work. She is happy with him and he is seemingly happy with her, why then is it so hard to accept him for what he is? Something slithers around in your brain, something that laughs darkly, something pulsing through the network of thoughts and ideas that threatens to crack open your subconscious and throw it right in your face. 

“Well now, ain’t that somethin’?” You pull your hands away from your face to see a very explicit scene playing out on the screen. Heat floods every inch of your body. 

“Almost looks like she’s enjoyin’ herself.” He leaves it on, and you feel stuck, your body betraying you yet again to see the way the woman on screen moans wantonly while under a very handsome man. You let out a non-committal sound, teetering on the edge of madness. You scold yourself, you are an adult, an adult that has had sex before and this isn’t even real. 

“Looks like fake bullshit to me.” The strength in your voice lends credence to the illusion that you aren’t affected. He laughs, calm and completely at ease and that only pulls the anger to the forefront again. 

“They can’t show the real stuff on these channels. If it were real, he’d be doin’ what she needs.” 

“And what’s that?” It comes out before you can stop it. 

“Well,” He smiles to himself, winning a duel you hadn’t even known you were fighting. 

“If it were real, he’d be pressin’ on her clit, he’d be makin’ sure she felt every inch of him and make her take his cock like a good girl.” You let out a heavy breath, half shocked, half grateful it wasn’t a whimper. 

Warning bells go off in your head, just as a heartbeat starts in your cunt because you can see it. You can see him. His face twisted up in pleasure but cocky, his hips moving, his thumb dipped into your mouth and then swirling around your clit. He smiles at catching you looking at his hands and you want to yell at him. You want to smack him across the face and kick him in the balls for saying something like that to you, his partner's daughter, but you don’t. 

Your body almost catapults you out of your seat. Barely unintelligible words come out, something about needing sleep, about being tired and then you hightailed it out of there like a bat out of hell. 

The shower was cold enough to make your teeth chatter, but it did nothing to cool the heat blooming in your core and it was with a terrifying desperation that you ground against your fingers. The slick pooling at the mouth of your pussy was enough to feel even with the water washing everything away except your shame. 

You bit your tongue to keep from moaning out the taboo and entirely inappropriate name you were dying to say out loud. His firm thighs spread on that couch filled your mind, the calloused, work-roughened hands you could practically feel on your hips, on your thighs. You could feel them holding and spreading your legs open so he could make you make those same noises you’d heard over the years. Make you take it like a good girl, his good girl. 

You came with a shudder, sagging against the chilly tile. You warmed the water with a sigh, disappointed and ashamed with yourself, trying, and failing, to put the whole thing out of your mind. 

-

You doubled down on avoiding him after that. 

Your mother worked most of the time but when she was home, things were easier. He reverted to the healthy avoidance, the proverbial disinterest that she didn’t seem to have a problem with. You still heard them some nights, the bed creaking, throaty cries, deep grunts but now they haunted you in a different way. Now you heard his words on that couch and couldn’t help but picture all manner of unsavory things that both disgusted and thrilled you. 

Being unemployed didn’t help. There was nothing to keep you out of the house most of the day, and there were only so many places that would accept you looking for a job in person. 

There was only so much time you could spend with friends too, they had their own lives and jobs and relationships. Too busy to save you from unwanted free time. 

Old habits resurface, and you retreat within yourself while pushing yourself harder. A job would fix things enough to help, you could save up enough money to leave for good and take yourself out of the equation. 

-

The powers that be momentarily take pity on you, and after what seems like a lifetime's worth of job hunting you blessedly get a call back. It’s a part time job, but at this point beggars can’t exactly be choosers. It’s a steady, if insufficient source of income that hadn’t been available to you before. Determined, you buckle down, you channel every guidance counselor you’ve ever had and ace the fuck out of that interview.

It’s not taxing work, but you put your head down and focus with the hope that if you worked hard enough, if you made a good enough impression, made yourself indispensable they’d throw you enough shifts to make up a full time job. 

It helps. Time spent away from the house, from your mothers dried up welcome, from Joel altogether genuinely helps. You feel a bit lighter, less guilty, less prone to imagine the unimaginable. You find comfort in the absence of self-imposed temptation. There is peace in the mindless work, in the life outside of the house that no longer feels like a home. 

It's a double edged sword though, because at the end of every shift, the luck–the peace–runs out. If being at work and out of the house is a respite, returning home only thickens the tension. Time spent outside the house only sharpens the discomfort, clarifies the glaring wrongness of it all when you enter it at the end of the day. What it all is, you won’t name. That way madness lies. Issue is, with every interaction, with every chance encounter in the hallway, or living room, every second spent with him in the kitchen watching his lips touch the rim of his mug the thing inside grows. Parts of him fill the corners of your mind. The curve of his shoulders filling out the flannel shirts he favors. The fullness of his bottom lip when he purses them, something he does while squinting at the paper that you’re almost sure he isn’t aware of. His neck, his hands, the dimple in his cheek when he laughs at something really funny. 

These things jump out, innocent as they may be, but other not so innocent things start to creep in. The bulge in his jeans is a mental mine, it lies in wait and every so often when you think you’ve avoided it, it detonates and you catch yourself staring, both ashamed and so inappropriately curious it eats away at you like acid. 

What you needed was something to fill the emptiness, both emotionally and physically. So you did what any modern, adult woman would do; you bought a sex toy. 

Nothing too crazy, or expensive. After perusing the site for a while you finally settled on a plain, non-threatening dildo. Nothing too big, nothing noisy, just something to be able to focus on, something to use while imagining someone giving you what you need. You ignored that dark thing inside that hissed his name, shooed it away and ordered the package for express delivery. With your mom constantly working, and Joel keeping to himself you figured it wouldn’t be an issue. Neither of them would question a package addressed to you. 

You still aren’t sure whether or not you’d do it all over again had you known the Pandora’s box that little package would open. 

You all but rushed home after work. All day, you’d imagined the relief that toy would bring. You imagined yourself using it in the shower, steam swirling as you took your pleasure. You imagined yourself laying in bed in the safety of the dark, setting a towel down on your chair and riding it to your heart's content. 

Joel’s truck is in the driveway when you pull in, but it’s secondary to the excitement at the chance to sequester yourself with your new best friend and so when you walk into the house, you don’t give him much attention. Until he opens his mouth. 

“You got a package today babygirl. I put it on your bed.” He sits on his spot on the sofa, a funny little smile on his face. A bad feeling swells in your chest, and you look up the stairs before meeting his eyes again. 

“Thanks.” You drop your bag on the little bench near the front door, trying, and failing to keep the nervous feeling out of your voice. He nods, and you make your way up, stopping yourself from taking the stairs two at a time. 

Ice flows through your veins when you see the package is open. 

He’d opened your package, he knew what you’d bought. 

Blood pounds in your ears as you stand there, limbs cold and numb at the realization that he saw it. He saw it. He opened it, and he placed it here, on the very place you fantasized about using it. Sweat beaded on your brow, the bottom of your stomach fell out of your ass as you stood there, barely feeling the soft, worn carpet under your feet. 

“Little small, f’you ask me.” His voice at the mouth of your room made your head twist fast enough to hurt your neck. You hadn’t heard him follow you up the stairs, hadn’t heard him open your door and lean against the frame, arms crossed in haughty amusement. 

“Why would you open my package?” You clutched at it, as though he could forget what he’d seen if you held it tightly enough. 

“I didn’t open it on purpose, I’m expectin’ somethin’ and I didn’t read the name.” He pushes away from the door frame, making his way closer and it’s like the air thins as the space between you shrinks.

“I mean, I could tell you been frustrated, but this doesn’t seem like it’s gon’ help much.” He reaches out, and takes the package from you. You watch him do it, watch him, frozen as he plucks it from your hands and takes the toy out. 

“This all you can take?” He holds it, contemptuously–pityingly. 

You wanted to snatch it out of his hands, the dimming voice of reason urges you to push him out of your room and remind him that he needs to keep a healthy distance but you say nothing, you stand there, and watch him. He puts it all down on your dresser, before stepping a little closer, close enough for you to have to crane your neck up to look into his eyes. 

“No boyfriends around to give you what you want?” His hand comes up, the tips of his fingers sliding across the apple of your cheek, slipping down until his thumb pressed against the cushion of your bottom lip. 

“No one around to give you what you obviously need?” He steps a little closer, until your bodies meet. This is wrong, your mind screams it but your body is frozen under his eyes, under his touch. That part, the frozen part is cheering, it’s running victory laps as it floods your cunt with slick in preparation for something unholy. 

That same, writhing, traitorous thing whispers that this is your chance, the house is empty and your body obeys. You look your fill, you take in the curve of his nose and the furrow in his brow. His eyes are black as a crow's wing, lust-blown and completely focused on your parted lips and your shallow panting. 

Adrenaline spikes and you do something you cannot take back. You rise on your tip-toes and press your mouth to his. 

He hums into it, smiling and once again you get that feeling that you’d made the exact move he’d expected you to. A vague, but fleeting inkling that you were just a pawn on his chessboard. 

At any other time you would have stepped away and repented, ate yourself alive with guilt but his hands pulled you closer, his tongue swiped at the seam of your mouth and you opened up for him. That only made it all the more real, the taste of his tongue in your mouth, feeling his hands lower to hold onto your ass. 

The rational part of you shrinks down to nothing, and that other part, the wrong part–it swells and preens under his hands. He pulls away, and embarrassingly, you chase his mouth in a daze. 

“Oh honey, you’re just dyin’ for it aren’t you?” He herds you towards your tiny bed, the twin mattress that has been the stage for every taboo fantasy about this man, your stepfather. You shoo the word away with a shiver. 

“It’s wrong-” You almost whisper, but you don’t push him away, you let him lay you down in that bed and he laughs. 

“It is, isn't it?” He pulls at the hem of your shirt, you raise your arms for him and the picture of it is wrong, daddy taking off your clothes. The thought, the word,  should disgust you but it only pulls your hands to him. You join in, and pull his shirt up and off, biting your lip at the broadness of him. You take in each freckle, the sprinkling of hair on his chest, the dip of his throat calling out for your tongue like a siren. 

He presses his lips to yours again, licking into your mouth obscenely. Unseemly. 

“You been wantin’ this for a long time, haven’t you babygirl?” He pulls your bra off, and the shock of cold air hardens your nipples. He bites his lip to see it, unable to stop himself from flattening his tongue against a hardened bud. A sound you’ve never let yourself make out loud in this room fills the space between you and that slithering thing luxuriates. 

He moves, languidly, unhurried to the other breast and holds the plump of it in his big hand and sucks at the second bud, sucks as much of the peak as he can into his mouth, breathing through his nose while you slowly spiral into madness.

When he lets go, he presses a kiss to your nipple and his facial hair tickles your skin. 

He pulls your leggings off along with your underwear in one go and the reality of it all hits you when the air hits your soaked core. That’s when the urge to put a stop to it is the clearest, when he kneels between your legs and spreads them wide, stares at the place where he’s already filled a million times in your mind. The place that’s drenched at the mere thought of him. 

“Joel-” You start, but he pushes your legs up, folding you and then he lets a glob of spit fall from his mouth slowly, aiming it, a bullseye right on the lips of your cunt. It’s too much, too filthy and you let out a whimper. 

“I think you wanna call me somethin’ else right now.” He undoes his belt and his jeans, keeping his eyes on where his saliva slides down over the open mouth of your cunt, down towards your asshole. He pulls his cock out and part of you shatters. Your eyes flit to the toy sitting on your dresser, your eyes flit to the open door of your bedroom. 

“Don’t worry, your mama ain’t gonna be home for a while.” He smiles, conspiratorially. It's too real, it’s too hypnotic, seeing him there with his cock in his hand while your legs already ache from holding them up and open. He slides the blunt end of it through the mess he’s caused, through his spit and he groans at the sight of it. 

Your heart races so hard to feel him there, that you see the pulse of it in your vision. 

“Deep breath baby.” he warns before slipping inside the tight fist of your pussy, the size of him making you gasp. This is it, there’s no coming back from this and right now, with him seated deep, his groin pressed up tight and the tip of his cock kissing your womb you cannot even think of why you’d ever care.

This is where he's meant to be. This is where you need him. 

“Oh baby, that’s so good huh?” He thrusts shallowly, pulling out a little more than halfway before shoving his hips forward again. You don’t really know how to form words, you don’t know how to take in what’s happening. This is Joel, your step-dad, fucking you in the bed you grew up in. One hand sits heavy on your shin, holding it, the other slides up and holds onto your breast. 

“Look how fuckin’ wet this little pussy is for me,” he moans the words, “you like daddy fuckin’ you?” He thrusts harder and you moan despite the word hitting you in the stomach like a big drop on a rollercoaster. He shouldn’t say that, shouldn’t call himself that, not now. 

“No-” it doesn’t come out like you mean it to, it sounds wrong, like a caress. 

“No? But I think you do-” He leans forward, keeping his pace while pressing his chest to yours, his mouth all but lining up and despite your bullshit protest, you hitch your knees high on his ribs to make room because if he stopped you’d probably die. 

“I think you want me to be your daddy, don’t you baby, it’s okay, I want to be.” He speeds up and the sounds between your legs are so wet, so filthy. 

“You can say it, I want you to say it.” He holds himself up, his elbows caging in your skull and before you can complain or moan or cry he sticks his tongue down your throat again. Your hands finally join the fray and you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him tight to you. 

“Come on baby, say it for me, tell me how good daddy fucks you.” You moan, closing your eyes while your cunt floods him with wave after wave of slick, enough to drip down your ass and onto your bed, down his balls. Enough for it to soak the curls at the base of him. 

“Look at me when I’m fuckin’ you honey.” His hips speed up and it's hard now, his thrusts making your bounce, hitting a part of you that toy would never touch in a million years. 

You open your eyes, and look at him above you, sweat beading on his hairline. Never has he looked more fucking appealing than he does right then. The word is there, in your mouth and you know it’ll taste sweeter than anything in this world. 

The wrong thing wins.  

“Yes daddy.” You moan it, and the shameful thing sets off fireworks in your being, he smiles, and tucks his head into the damp crook of your neck, feeding his lovely filth right into your ear. 

“That’s my babygirl, that’s it, fuck baby you take it better than your mama.” Something inside recoils at that, but something else, another facet of that fucked up thing inside rejoices.

“Let me hear you say it again, say it when you come.” He licks a hot stripe up your neck. His words are a filthy groan, something to tuck away for later.

He reaches down, pressing his thumb to your clit just like he said on that couch and you keen, the slip and the pressure enough to toss you over the edge with an almost painfully intense orgasm. 

“I’m coming, daddy.” It’s a shuddering whisper as your cunt clenches around him. 

He moves quickly, kneeling between your legs to pull out and then he’s stroking himself over your cunt. It’s still pulsing when he paints it in his come. You catch your breath as he tugs at himself a few more times, milking himself against you with a disturbingly familiar groan. 

The fog clears altogether too quickly. The lights are too bright, you’re naked, and he’s still got his jeans around his thighs while the guilt creeps into your veins, replacing the euphoria. 

What have I done? What have you made me do?

[cowboymcflurry]

Ocean Waves | Eddie Munson x You [Fluff]

Summary: You’ve had a long day. You’re feeling overwhelmed and stressed, so you retreat to your favorite spot by the ocean, where you find Eddie, that weird guy you have Spanish with, strumming his guitar.

word count: 1,5k

includes: Hawkins is now for some reason set by the sea, reader and eddie don’t really know each other yet, fluff, comfort, butterflies, no description of reader, no use of y/n, readers gender is not mentioned but eddie calls reader 'babygirl' at some point

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It was a rough day. Everything was just too much, too irritating, too loud and too worrying and you ended up feeling numb, the only feeling left that of your scalp tingling nastily. You felt lonely, you couldn’t breathe properly and you felt like drowning in your own thoughts and feelings.

So you took your backpack off the floor of your room and shoved in a pack of your favorite snacks and a can of your favorite soda.

It was time for a little trip to your secret hiding spot.

When you got there ,the sun was just about to set. The noise of the ocean calmed your thoughts, the salty air letting you breathe again. Quickly you skipped towards your favorite spot, which was a huge piece of driftwood. With every step you felt lighter and lighter, until you suddenly came to a halt. The unpleasant tingling of your scalp returned, as you realized that your secret hiding spot had been invaded. Some long-haired weirdo sat on what had once probably been a tree trunk, strumming a guitar.

“Shit.” you mumbled. Why did everything have to go wrong today?

I have to somewhere else, you thought, when the guy’s head suddenly jerked up. He brought a hand up to his eyes, shielding them from the intense golden light that came from the sunset, squinting at you. Hey, wasn’t that Eddie Munson? That metalhead from Spanish class? Your eyebrows shot up when you saw him waving at you. Hesitantly you waved back.

Great, now I have to say hi, you thought, cursing yourself for coming here.

“Hey, don’t we have Spanish together?” Eddie asked, when you approached him.

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing out here? Guess I was not the only one who found this spot.” he laughed, taking a sip out of a can that you suspected to be beer.

“Uh, no. I come here sometimes.” you said, your hands firmly holding on to your backpacks straps.

Eddie looked at you, as if he were waiting for more words to come out of your mouth, but since there weren’t, he simply grinned at you, slapping the piece of driftwood he sat on.

“Feel free to join me. The view is amazing.” he said, stretching his arms.

“Oh no, that’s okay. I can go somewhere else.”

Eddie frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean? Wait a minute -” he gasped dramatically, “Could it be that you’re scared of Eddie Munson, the freak?”

You felt the corners of your lips twitching.

“No, it’s not that. I just… Um… I just wanted to be alone for a while.” you said, rubbing your neck. Eddie sat back, observing your face closely.

“Tell you what, you sit here with me for 10 minutes and watch that pretty sunset - then I’m gone and you have this beautiful space to yourself, how about that?”

Hesitantly you nodded. “Okay, sure.”

“So what’s up?” Eddie asked when you sat down beside him. His big brown eyes eyeing you curiously.

“What do you mean?”

“Well I can tell that something is… you know…” he said vaguely, making an explanatory gesture, causing you to chuckle softly.

“I’ve just had a shit day, that’s all.” you said, your eyes shifting back to the crashing golden waves in front of you. Eddie nodded, causing his curls to bop up and down.

“I see.”

For a while you two just sat there, taking in the rustling sound of the sea, the salty air and the comfortable silence around you. The dark orange disc, that was the sun, dropped further and further until it was eventually gone, as if the dark blue surface of the sea had swallowed it. You felt the wind on your face and for some reason you were glad that you weren’t alone, that Eddie sat right beside you. After a couple of more minutes he glanced at his wrist watch.

“Ten minutes are over I guess.” he said softly. As he got up, picking up his guitar, you intervened.

“You don’t have to go, you know?” you said, a bit too eagerly.

“I don’t?”

You shook your head, smiling shyly.

“Alright, then.” he said grinning, plopping back down on the piece of driftwood.

“Why are you here?” you asked after a while.

“Oh you know, I’ve just had a shit day.” he said, winking at you, causing you to chuckle softly. But then his expression changed, looking slightly more serious, as he turned back to look at the ocean.

“I would never openly admit but, sometimes, I feel a little bit… out of place. Lonely. And then I come here. I don’t know what it is about this place, but being alone in a wide open beautiful space like this seems to cure any depression I might have inside of me.” he chuckled.

“I feel the same way.” you said, studying Eddie’s side profile, his curly hair and the curve of his lips. If you were an artist, you would have liked to draw him. He was different than what you thought, but if you were being honest you never made much of an effort of getting to know him. He was one of those guys who - despite being weird and not like the others - seemed to be extremely self-confident and extroverted. And guys like that usually didn’t like hanging out with people like you. People who mostly kept to themselves, to their own weird and tangled mind. Or so you thought.

“Can I tell you something?” Eddie suddenly said, turning back to you. It was getting pretty dark but you could still see his dark eyes that seemed to be so full of childish wonder whilst also carrying a certain melancholy at the same time.

“What?”

“I’ve always wondered about you.” he said, looking from one of your eyes to the other.

“What do you mean?” you asked softly.

“Well, you’re that quiet kid that doesn’t really talk to any one. At first I thought you were arrogant but then I thought, hey, maybe it’s something else.”

The way he looked at you made your stomach turn. You felt your eyes burning and that awful feeling in your throat that felt like you were choking.

“Hey, it’s okay.” he said, wiping away a tear that had escaped your eye, with his thumb. But you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You felt all of the anxiety, all of the sadness and all those dark thoughts breaking lose.

“Hey, hey, hey it’s alright babygirl, come here.” Eddie whispered, pulling you close, softly wiping away the tears on your cheek. For a while you just let them flow out, muffled sobs breaking the silence around you every now and then. You felt Eddie’s hand softly graze your hair, making your scalp tingle, but this time in the most pleasant way possible.

After you calmed down you quickly turned away, wiping away the remaining tears with your sleeves, as if Eddie hadn’t just witnessed you breaking down, as if he hadn’t comforted you.

“I’m sorry.” you said, sniffling.

“What for?” Eddie laughed, reaching for your hand, giving it a light squeeze. His touch creating a fluttering feeling in your stomach.

“We barely know each other and it’s not fair of me, putting you in this situation.”

Eddie furrowed his brows. “Last time I checked I am responsible for how I react to my surroundings. So if I want to be there for that weird kid from Spanish class that I’ve always kinda liked, then let me.”

Slowly he reached out to your face, wiping away one last tear, before flashing a bright smile at you. For a couple of minutes you just looked at each other and for the first time in a very long time, you felt seen.

“Hey, I know what'll cheer you up.” he suddenly said, picking up his guitar, “I don’t know what kind of music you’re into - even though I hope it’s not that Madonna chick - but I’m sure you’ll like this.”

He started strumming, pulling a dorky face and you immediately recognized the song: ‘Fade to Black’ by Metallica. You felt your lips pulling into a grin as you watched him play, causing him to wink at you. Immediately you pulled out the can of soda you’d brought with you as well as the pack of snacks, opened both and placed them between the too of you. Eddie’s eyes widened, still strumming the guitar, and as he opened is mouth in anticipation you gently threw in a cracker, to which you both laughed out loud.

Maybe this day hadn’t been so bad after all. In the end it led you to this beach where you found Eddie. And Eddie finding you.

[theblueflower05]

These Violent Delights: Chapter One

A/N: Thanks for bearing with when it came to getting this first chapter out! Work has been dragging me by my hair, but i'm going to try to get this story updated every week. At least until I’m able to work through this Spike Fearn brain rot I’ve got going on rn.

Warnings: This story is pretty heavy from the jump. I mean, check the source material. Talks of suicidal thoughts and tendencies. Loneliness. Smut coming later!

Pariring: Bjorn x Reader

Summary: A friendship is formed under the most unlikely of circumstances.

✨Masterlist

✨Playlist

Next Chapter

Every day is exactly the same.

The sentiment runs through your head as you blearily blink up at the water stained ceiling. The comforter is tangled around your legs and your mouth is dry- a side effect from the sleeping pills. The shrill ringing of the alarm is the only indication that the morning has rose on the horizon, outside the singular window in your apartment it is still black as pitch. Your joints crack when you finally force yourself out of bed.

You go through your morning routine in an almost mechanical manner. Shower. Brush teeth. Get dressed in the standard issued trousers and blouse you’d been given when you got your assignment- the holes you’d sewn up yourself are barely noticeable. Barley. Clip your hair back. Even the movements as you eat the tar like oatmeal feel too practiced. Fake.

Lately, you’ve found you dont feel very real anymore. There’s probably droid’s walking around, wires for veins, that feel less hollow than you do.

Jackson Star is a planet in the Alfeios system, and in the 11 years you’ve been stationed here you’ve realized, that it is a planet that should've never been colonized. It’s harsh, by nature. Sweltering summers followed by frigid winters, and the ever present, extremely active volcanoes. The atmospheric processors can only do so much.

And they cant do shit about the lack of sun.

They can try to replicate it; expensive lamps and vitamin C tablets acting like a cheap knock off. Like Weyland-Yutani Corps way of saying sorry we dropped you in hell- here's the shittiest consolation prize in the galaxy.

This particular Friday is gloomier then usual, rain accompanying the dark. The walk down the cluttered streets feels even more…hopeless than usual. Like maybe this is all there is. Blurring lights of neon signs and the ruddy faces of children that hold out their hands on corners, begging for their next meal.

Like maybe if you stepped in front of the bus in this cross walk- then it would end the loop. You’d be able to get out of this eternally dark purgatory.

They aren't new thoughts, but you lifting your foot to step of the curb is. You go numb, not thinking or feeling as you step into oncoming traffic.

Theres the blaring honk of a heavy hand on a horn and then you're being yanked backwards, hard.

You gasp as you’re pulled back onto the sidewalk and out of the way of oncoming traffic. You’re equal parts grateful and disappointed. But mostly you’re shocked.

The girl is small statured, her brown eyes wide behind unruly curls. She curses filthy and fast in Spanish.

Her gaze makes you feel uncomfortably scene. Its assessing and…worried. Its been a long time since anyone worried about you. “Are you alright?”

You’re taken aback by her question.

“I’m fine. Didn’t see the cars coming” you don’t understand why you’re explaining yourself to this stranger. It’s probably the hot embarrassment that’s pointing your face red.

She doesn’t look amused by your answer but nods slowly “Okay…”

The signal turns red, the cross walk sign lights up and you’re gone, fast as your feet can take you away from your unlikely savior. Leaving her standing there, confused.

“You’re welcome!” Comes her snark filled holler. You don’t blame her. But with the shame filling you, you also can’t look at her. You just give a haphazard wave behind you. A piss poor thanks, you know.

You hope you never see her again.

-

After the blip this morning, the routine persists- until it doesnt.

The office is how it always is. Bleak. The yellow lights flickering and the wallpaper peeling. Patty, a heavy set woman with an acidic smile sits at the front desk. The grim reaper at the mouth of the river Styx. It’s pleasantries, your badge is scanned and then you find your way back to your cubicle. As ready as anyone can be to stare at a screen and four walls for the next twelve hours.

Maybe it’s something in the damp air, but once again, the day deviates from the norm.

You only ever work with electronic filing. Sorting piles and piles of e-documents into they Weyland/Yutani system. An office grunt you’ve been called. And yet today they want you up front, something about “Yolanda from zoning and housing” missing a day because her son is dying from black lung. God forbid she want to be by his side. It leaves the office understaffed.

“I’m not trained for that position” you try to reason but it falls on deaf ears. There are numbers to be punched, and your lack of true no how doesn't really matter. You begrudgingly leave your familiar desk, taking only the thermos of hot coffee with me. Small mercies, really.

Front desk is as hellish as one would think it would be. Between having to interact with real human beings, not the computers you’re used to combined with Patty’s snooty remarks; you’re absolutely jonsing to get the fuck out of there and go home by the afternoon.

In the back office the digital copying machine is down for the fifth time this week. All of the filing systems have honestly been off- a result of the shitty outdated tech on this planet.

“Ugh- they really dont know what they're doing back there” Patty sighs, muttering under her beath about how she doesnt get paid enough for this shit “Im going to go help. Again. Keep your head down and follow the guideline on the forms” she gives me stern instructions and a side eye “And dont touch my stories”

She cares more about the trashy soap operas she watches on her tablet then the mother she just evicted from her apartment.

Where’s a fucking droid when you need one? This is most definitely a job that shouldn't be done by anyone with a conscience.

With dread in your stomach you put on a brave face as the security system announces the next client;

Oh.

It’s a girl. With a small stature and wide brown eyes. Ones that reflect the same recognition you feel. It takes a moment for you to swallow the surprise.

“Name” You demand in a practiced voice. The shakiness you feel not transmuting to your tone. Or at least you hope it doesnt.

“Kay Harrison” and just like that, she’s not a stranger anymore “I’m here for an appointment”

You type quickly, plugging in the details on the keyboard. Pulling up her file. Scanning the information quickly. “Yes, I can see that. Here to formally request an eviction extension”

Damn. Thats tough.

“Yes. But only because we truly will be able to pay it next week. I brought not only mine but my brothers work logs and proof of direct deposit-” she pulls out a beat up old tablet and slides it under the glass. “We’ll be able to get the rent paid in full by the fourth”

What kind of cruel fate is this? The most twisted form of serendipity. She saved you this morning and now you have to co-sign on her eviction this afternoon.

You know it doesn't matter, you saw their file. The Harrisons arent newbies to being late for rent and their landlord is chomping at the bit to get them out.

“I’ll scan these into your case but at this point in the process it really doesn't matter” at your words, panic induced tears fill her eyes.

“No- because. We’re late. But we always pay. We’ve never been negligent, not on purpose. Since my dad died we’ve done our best” Kay rambles an explanation that doesn't matter and you feel frozen. Stuck. Conflicted in a way that you we’re supposed to have trained out of you.

���I cant-” you sigh and she looks pathetic. Drained…void.

A feeling you know all too well. That had almost led you right into the grill of a bus this very morning. And yet- she’d stepped in.

You gnaw on your lip and as discreetly as possible, your eyes scan around the empty office. Your co-workers still not back yet. You’re the only one in here. Its madness, but if there was any time to act on madness- it would be now.

You begin typing furiously, entering in codes that a normal front desk clerk wouldn't know, it isn’t in their training. But you’d been trained for filing.

“An extension wont be needed” You speak purposefully, giving Kay a pointed look “The landlord marked the eviction for the fifth. That gives you three more days to get a payment in before the constable is scheduled to come for the lock out”

There’s a moment of heavy silence.

The landlord had actually marked the second but well. It’s an easy enough over turn. Easy, but extremely illegal. You just did something that could not only cost you your job but risk your contract. Land you in jail-

“He marked the wrong date…” Kay chews the words, like she cant believe what she’s saying.

“Yep” I say quickly, finishing up, covering my ass by copying multiple files into the system. It would be hard as shit to uncover it, if anyone cared to bother. Kay’s just another file in the hundreds today. “Here you go, Miss Harrison. You have seventy two hours to get the payment to the respective party. If not the constable will be there to conduct the eviction”

I slide her tablet back towards her.

“I- I don't know what to say” She stutters and you give her a glare. You don't have the time for groveling, for un- needed thanks. As far as you’re concerned, you are now even.

“Don't say anything. Take your things and go”

I don't look at her again, not even when she leaves. Instead I refocus on my computer screen. Trying to breathe through the nerves that wrack my body. That was just about the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.

Your heart beats furiously and it’s the most alive you’ve felt in months.

-

After that it seems like something has been broken. The pattern no longer functions.

Jackson Star is by no means a small colony. Thousands strong, full of unfamiliar faces. And yet. You keep running into the same one.

“Here, I grabbed you a coffee. Extra sugar, like ya like, even though it’s going to rot your teeth out” Kay waits for you at the same corner that the two of you had met on. Weeks ago. She’d hunted you down after that fateful day and had shown that she wasn't giving up on showing her gratitude so easily.

Having friends in the colony is a dangerous game. Every friend you’ve ever had has either been transferred off planet or died. And yet here you are, eagerily bounding over to Kay. Taking the paper cup full of cheap coffee.

“My teeth are my own business thank you”

And it goes like this; the train station where Kay catches her ride to the mines isn't far from your job so the two of you make your morning commute together, gabbing about nothing. It's nice. It feels familiar, you used to have loads of friends.

Kay’s easy to talk to and she shares so much of herself so freely. Her little stories about her family make you smile. Make you feel warmth, and secretly longing. And yet still, every time the topic of you meeting everyone comes up you shy away.

Being friends with Kay is one thing. Meeting the most important people in her life is another.

She offers again today. Dinner at her house, ya’ know, the one she still has because of you. It’ll be lowkey. Just the friends. Fun.

Although you crave it, you’re scared of it too. That’s why you’re shaking your head, giving another of those flimsy excuses. Kay just pats your arm.

“If you change your mind, you’re still more than welcome to come. I’ll text you the details, okay?” She’s got this way about her. Gentle but not condescending, a hard balance to strike. Too bad she’s on this near barren planet, she’d be a great mother.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you”

When the two of you hit the proverbial fork in the road- you go your way and she goes hers. You to the office and her to the mines. Both prisons in their own rights.

You watch her cross the street and join a tall man at the train station. His skin’s the same shade as hers, his eyes the same almond shape. He’s handsome in a way that you’ve only seen on screens, in those old movies your mom used to watch.

This must be the older brother she talks so much about. Tyler.

He says something you can’t quite decipher to her and then looks over her shoulder, across the street at you, and beams.

Its not a normal smile. It’s pearly whites flashed at you in a way that makes your heart skip a beat in your chest. When he gives you a smooth wave you feel like you might be knocked over.

You just know the grimace and jerky hand motion you give back is as awkward as it feels.

If you obsess about how much of an antisocial weirdo you are all day, that’s your own prerogative.

I mean come on? You can’t even manage to wave back at someone? You truly need to get it together.

You think about that as you eat dinner at your makeshift table that night. Maybe, you’re just out of practice. You’re not awkward, just dusty. You just haven’t spoken to anyone for more then five minutes since your upstairs neighbor had a pipe burst.

It’s what leads you to pulling out your phone, to pulling up Kay’s contact. It’s still new. Still fresh.

Is there anything I should bring?

You don’t have to wait long for a response.

Kay: Nope, just yourself!😊 [location attachment] see you tomorrow.

You stare at her response on the small bright screen until your eyes burn. This is the change you had craved so badly.

So why are you so scared?

This chapter kind of took on a life of its own. I so desperately wanted to have Bjorn in this but there was just- a lot of ground to cover. Next chapter we’re jumping right into introducing him (and smut towards a the end of that chapter to!)

Big shout out to @spikedfearn for letting me ramble like a crazy lady in her inbox. Her Bjorn content literally makes me salivate.

If anyone else is still going through Romulus hyperfixation please feel free to comment or send asks! I’m always here to chat!

[fandomworld9728]

U got time for some Radioapple Angst? Do ya think you could whip up an angst scenario about where Alastor confesses Lucifer that he likes him but Luci (scared of being left alone again after his divorce with Lilith and everything fell apart) gently rejects him, in fear of being in love again while also wanted what’s best for Al 🥲 and maybe cue to Lucifer leaving the hotel and heads back to the palace to be alone (while also notifying Charlie that he’ll be gone for awhile) 😭

(Radioapple angst coming right up! I actually had a similar idea where it's Lucifer who confessed and got rejected. So, he left the hotel so that way he didn't make Alastor uncomfortable)

Lucifer:

What? Did he hear that right? Alastor, the fearsome and powerful radio demon just confessed to him?

He couldn't believe it, but here Alastor was. Standing in front of him, nervous smile and a bouquet of dead flowers.

This... this couldn't be happening. Right? What in the Seven Rings had he even done to make Alastor fall for him? Last he knew the Sinner had hated him but was slowly warming up to him. For Charlie's sake.

Lucifer would be lying if the declaration hadn't affected him. Because this Sinner, this Overlord, this human soul, had seen him. The real him and not only stayed but also loved him. The last time that had happened was with Lilith. However, she had left him all alone. Had taken their daughter with her because she had grown tired, bored, and annoyed with him. Didn't see him fit to be a good parent for Charlie.

Shaking those thoughts from his head, he tried to focus on the man in front of him. Alastor wanted Lucifer the broken Fallen Angel who was trying to do right by his daughter and the souls in his care. Not the all-powerful King of Hell. So, why were these horrible thoughts swirling around his head?

Would Alastor leave when he got bored like Lilith did? What if they did get together and ended up having a child of their own? Would he take them away like she had? The more Lucifer listened to the voices in his head, the more his panic rose. Why wouldn't they shut up and let him be happy for once?

There were so many factors. So many fears he had. As much as he desperately wanted to smile and say yes, take a chance on these budding feelings he had for the Overlord, Lucifer knew what the smart choice was. Leading with his head instead of his heart this time, he took a deep breath to steady himself.

"Alastor. This is sweet and romantic. You have no idea how happy this makes me. But... I can't accept your confession."

"...What...?"

Oh Satan. Not the break in his vocal filter. This was so painful. He knew he was about to hurt Alastor. About to ruin whatever had developed between them. Would Alastor hate him after this?

"What the fuck do you mean you can't accept my confession?"

"I know that you put a lot into this and that this was probably difficult for you... I'm sorry."

~

Here he was back at square one. All alone in his palace once again. He had to get out the hotel, away from Alastor, as quick as he could. If he hadn't, he would have broken down in front of the Sinner and told him everything.

Forever being broken and pathetic. A coward. Having Alastor hate him was much then him realizing what everyone does eventually when they get close to him. He couldn't go through that again.

Besides, it was too dangerous for anyone to be in a relationship with him. Heaven used his ex-wife and daughter against him once, he knows they'd pull that same shit with anyone Lucifer cared about and loved. Charlie was old enough and powerful enough to protect herself well enough if it came down to it and who knows where Lilith ran off too, so she was fine.

Alastor, while being one of the most powerful human souls Lucifer's seen in a long while, wouldn't stand a chance against the higher-ranking angels and the Elders. At least this way he was safe. Not just from Heaven. Safe from Lucifer as well. Sometimes he was a hard time controlling the darker parts of his powers. Especially when he was emotional.

He could feel it creeping up on him even now-

"No! Don't think about it. Focus on something else. Like... Like ways to help Charlie that don't involve being at the hotel or around Alastor. And don't think about the crushed look in her eyes when you told her that you would be moving back into the palace for the time being..."

Once he had explained why, she told him that she understood. But he hated to make her hurt in any sort of way. He had reassured her he would remember to keep in touch this time and that she could contact him for anything. He'd be back at the hotel once things cooled down between him and Alastor.

But what if things never cool down? Did he ruin his one chance to make things right with his daughter because he was afraid to love again? What was wrong with him?!

Alastor:

He had done it. Alastor had taken Rosie's advice on what to do with these... feelings....

He had spent a good part of the day getting things ready. Their usual meeting place, the hotel's roof, had been decorated with candles and something Angel Dust had referred to as fairy lights.

Music was playing from somewhere. Odd. Alastor didn't remember bringing anything up there to play music. He could solve that mystery later. His grip on the bouquet of Hell's native flowers tightened as his anxiety grew.

The poor things had died as soon as he had touched them. Oh well. If anyone could appreciate the beauty in one's death, it would be his king.

His king.

Ha. Alastor never thought he would be calling the man he once detested by such a title. However, Lucifer had proven himself worthy of such a title. Now, if the man would stop staring at him and give him an answer!

While he did enjoy leaving Lucifer flustered and speechless, he was becoming antsy. Vulnerability was not easy for him and made him uncomfortable. The Fallen Angel knew this, yet he was still standing there gawking at him.

He was about to snap when finally, finally, Lucifer spoke up. But now, Alastor wished that he had just stayed silent. 

"Alastor. This is sweet and romantic. You have no idea how happy this makes me. But.... I can't accept your confession."

What? If this makes him happy then why did he...? Was Rosie wrong about Lucifer feeling the same as Alastor? No... Rosie was never wrong about these things. So, why?

"...What...? What the fuck do you mean you can't accept my confession?"

"I know that you put a lot into this and that this was probably difficult for you... I'm sorry."

Before he could stop him, Lucifer had disappeared in a swirl of red and glitter. Leaving Alastor all alone in deafening silence. What had just happened? Did he just get rejected? Had that pitiful man, that coward, just rejected him and ran away without explaining why? 

What was this feeling? It.... hurt. Felt like whatever had been remaining of his heart was shattering. Digging his claws into the spot, Alastor felt his knees hit the roof tiles of the roof. However, he barely registered the feeling. He felt so numb.

'I'm sorry.'

Sorry? He was sorry?! Alastor would make sure he knew what that meant the next time he saw that poor excuse for a king! He'd rip the devil limb from limb and broadcast his screams throughout the Pride Ring. He'd do it until he was satisfied, knowing that Lucifer can't die. That he'd just regenerate quicker than any Sinner could ever dream of. Even if angelic steel was involved.

~

Alastor had locked himself away for the rest of the night once he found out that Lucifer would not be staying at the hotel for some time. He had planned to wreak havoc on that fool's room to teach him a lesson, but when he got in there, all he did was lay that stupidly oversized yet extremely comfortable bed like he had done so many times before. When he would stay up late to talk with Lucifer when he couldn't sleep.

Alastor had locked himself away for the rest of the night once he found out that Lucifer would not be staying at the hotel for some time. He had planned to wreak havoc on that fool's room to teach him a lesson, but when he got in there, all he did was lay that stupidly oversized yet extremely comfortable bed like he had done so many times before. When he would stay up late to talk with Lucifer when he couldn't sleep.

If Lucifer thought that he could just leave, he had another thing coming. Alastor wasn't going to let him get away that easy. He'd drag that idiot king back to the hotel himself he need be, but he wasn't going to let the man that lit his heart on fire get away. Ever.

No matter what. Lucifer better enjoy what little solitude he was getting right now. It would be the last of it he'd be getting. Alastor couldn't let him out of his sight now. Not after he just ran away like that.

"Prepare yourself, Lucifer Morningstar. You will regret awakening these feelings and desires within me."

(Hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you'd like a part 2!)

[c0tards--s0luti0n]

love (hate) when im Thinking about my childhhod and im like "yeah it was pretty normal and good ithink" and then i fuckingg Rember

[hobisexually]

long winded rant in the tags coming that’s partly about weight but in a very unfiltered sad way so if that triggers you do Not read on

[todayisafridaynight]

i think ichi would still go into work while suffering from *gameritis and hes so brave for that he's so committed

[real-life-cloud]

:(

[rubys-domain]

it annoys me that akane was made into a potential love interest. now there's this love triangle bs going on. it was grating enough with just kana being down bad. but it was still tolerable. episode 11 was probably the worst episode to end on because the love triangle schtick left such a bad taste in my mouth

[nexus-nebulae]

I'm trying to do a gourmand playthrough in rain world and i keep accidentally killing shit 😭

[oetscop]

[desertdragon]

I hate raiders, mostly the hardcore's bc they're just cunts, but whenever they are in tune with looking at the game from a gameplay perspective (not just looking at logs), everything they have to report is shit I can feel even as a casual though I can't explain it as in depth as they can; and I have to agree it feels like the devs have forgotten how to make and balance a game in the last 3 years, as much as most players themselves suck at understanding and playing the fucking game (and how poor the game's learning tools and mentors are as well) since it's seen as a vehicle for story cutscenes or mashing buttons

If the gameplay keeps going dumber across the board that would take away the last legitimate reason I have to play it and surprisingly I don't like the thought of that conversation with myself

[orcelito]

I guess I should start looking into apartments for next year. I don't know where I'm going to be working after I graduate yet, but I'll have a car by then, so it shouldn't matter too much. And I'm hesitant to move when I don't know where I'm going to end up... but I will be honest, I cannot live in this place for another year. They've increased the rent by a literal 50% since I started living here 3 years ago, the air conditioning doesn't work, I have to do laundry by *coin operation*, and worst of all there is no patio or balcony to speak of. I need outdoor seating!!! For my mental health!!!! Adding in the fact that it's far too cramped with all the furniture I got from my dad...

Yeah. Even if I only live there for a year, I Got to move.

Gonna be working on sorting through all the shit in my apartment, especially the boxes from my dad. Once I get a car, I wanna make it my personal project in the next year to cut down on the shit that I own. Go through my old clothes and donate anything that I Never wear and Never would. The goal being that by the time I do move, I want there to not be a fucking boatload of shit to move. There's still all this furniture but like. Eh. Ya kno. Still wanna make it better than it could be.

[48787]

So, as it turns out, my capacity for tyranny is actually fuckin huge and I'm really fucking good at it

I have so many more things to put in my book now

Peace Through Tyranny will be real circa 2048 and it'll still be sued by fucking Hasbro

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Sex in the suit (Wolverine)

Description: Y/N wants Logan to fuck her in the Wolverine suit

Warning: Smut, Wade

Word Count: 1,123k

Logan looked so hot in his suit. Y/N couldn’t keep her eyes off him. So much so that Wade teases her about it anytime he sees her staring at him. “Ya know I don’t blame you, Peanut looks hot af in that suit.” Wade says, making Y/N giggle. Logan looks over and sees her giggling. He walks over to them, “You making my girl laugh?” He asked jokingly. Wade raises his eyebrows under his mask, “Listen Friendo you have no reason to be jealous. Little Y/N over here has a mask kink.” Y/N’s jaw dropped at that and looked over at her friend shocked. Logan didn’t really have a reaction which worried her even though they were dating. She looked at him worried but he didn’t even look mad or upset. “Wow, are you turning her down? I’ll take you up on that, cupcake.” Logan glared at him. 

“So the suit turns you on?” He asked them as she ate dinner. She chewed slowly and looked at him. “Wrong time to ask, don't ya think?” She asked. He shrugged, “You’re almost done.” He had a point but she was thinking about food not him fucking her in the suit….well shit now she was. “But yeah, especially the mask.” She says. He raises his brows, “really?” He asked.

She can’t think straight when thinking about it. He looked so sexy in it and all she wanted to do was fuck him. She finished her last bite and quickly took the plate from her. She looked at him as he set it on the table. He came over to her and picked her up, making her giggle. “You keep giggling like that, I’ll fuck you right here on the table babygirl.” He growls. “As long as you wear the suit I don’t care where you fuck me.” She purred. He set her on the counter, “stay right here.” He runs out of the room leaving her in her thoughts. She bit her lip just thinking about what was in store.

She decided to help him out by taking off her sweats leaving her in her shirt and panties. Her panties were lace and yellow fitting the vibe. Her panties were nearly soaked. It wasn’t  too much longer that he walked in the kitchen in the suit and he had the mask on as well. Her jaw dropped as if it was the first time seeing him in the suit. He walked up to her and she wrapped her legs around him pulling him closer, “You look so hot baby.” She said and kissed him. The mask made it a little harder but it was still enjoyable. His large hands moved up her thighs to her wet panties.

She gasped in the kiss as he rubbed over her clothed clit. “Fuck you’re wet.” He groaned. She moaned and threw her head back. His finger sped up the pace and his other hand gripped her hip hard, probably leaving a mark. She tried to move her hips but he stopped her, making her whine. “Relax baby. I want to fuck you on my cock.” His deep voice said. She whimpered at his words and he stopped rubbing her. He pulled down her panties and threw them somewhere in the kitchen. He picked her up and turned her around so her ass was up in the air.

“This beautiful ass is just begging for it.” He said, slapping it. She moaned and shook her ass for him. He pulled down his pants and stroked himself a few times before lining up with her wet hole. He rubbed himself against her a few times before sliding in. He was bigger than anyone she’s had sex with prior but so she still was getting used to his size. It took him a minute to fully be inside of her. Her gasps as she got used to him always got him. Once he was in her, he let her adjust before gripping her hips. His grip was tight as he fucked her back on his cock. He wasn’t joking when he said he was gonna fuck her on his cock.

It was long before she was making the loudest noise possible. Luckily Wade wasn’t staying over like he usually would so they both could be as loud as they wanted. “Fuck Wolvy your dick hits all the right spots.” She whines. Never had she called him that before. But by the speed of him slamming her onto his dick increasing, she knew he liked it. “Fuck sweetheart your pussy is so warm and made for me.” He groaned. Her hands had nothing to grip onto, so her fingers dug into the table.

“Right where we eat letting me take you like the dirty whore you are.” She moaned at that and clenched around him. “Fuck baby girl if you do that again I might cum.” He moaned. He rarely ever moaned, just grunts and groans so she almost fell over the edge hearing that sound. “I’m close.” She whined and he grunted. His pace was inhuman fast as he had her fucking him and basically  rearranging her organs. He twitched inside of her and they both knew that words didn’t and couldn’t be said. Her eyes rolled back and she nearly screamed his name as she came all over his cock.

He slowed the pace to let her ride out her orgasm. Little breathy moans left her mouth. He picked up the pace again making her whine out of sensitivity. “I know, baby. Daddy’s almost there.” He grunted. His hands squeezed her hips hard and he came inside of her not caring about protection. She gasped feeling his cum fill her up for the first time. He pulled out of her and watched as his cum spilled out of her. He took his hand and swirled her hole and pushed some of it back in her. She whimpered and he chuckled, “Be kinda hot to see you pregnant with my baby.” He said.

“Yeah that would be hot, Peanut.” They both turned to see Wade in his Deadpool suit sitting on the window. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Logan growled. Y/N hid her body the best that she could from Wade. “Relax. I nearly missed the climax.” Logan growled and stormed up to him after pulling up his pants. “Why are you mad, Peanut? You at least got some action.” He said in defense. “Wade go home.” Y/N whined, annoyed that he saw them like that. “Not the kind of whining I want to hear.” He said and Wolverine’s claws came out. “Leave.” He growled at Wade and he sighed. “Fine. But next time invite me will ya?” “WADE!”

[savethepinecones]

adding onto the wild ups and downs of the day i just spent an hour wandering outside in slides and a sweatshirt because my mother decided that the best way to deal with an argument was to leave the car and walk around without her phone and hope her famously horrible sense of direction didnt prevent her from getting home. my stepdad called me because hed tried to go after her and fucking went into a-fib so i drove out to the car and tracked her footprints through the fucking snow- at midnight!!!- a solid half mile while my stepdad drove around trying to find her