#has TWO DIFFERENT TYPES OF DADDY ISSUES | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

miss-oranje-disco-dancer · 11 months ago

Text

daddy all along

pairing: leon x reader

cw: smut, daddy kink, age-gap, hurt/comfort, alcoholism, daddy issues, morally dubious behavior, virgin reader, reader is 21 during all sexual/suggestive scenes but there is a non-sexual scene at the beginning where reader is a child.

word count: 7k

summary: leon is reader's dad's best friend. he has known you since you were very little and has acted as a secondary father figure at different times in your life because your father is an alcoholic/workaholic. but leon's not your dad, he's actually there for you (and he's very sexy). your dad misses your 21st birthday and leaves you with leon, and you convince him to take your virginity.

a/n: no, you should not do this in real life. this is purely for fiction. yes, it is weird to write reader as a child and then as an adult. if you don't want to see this type of content, then don't read it.

part 2

You remember the first time you called Leon 'Daddy.' It was the first time you slept with him, on your 21st birthday. That's your version of the truth but not the truth. Leon remembers the first time you called him 'Daddy.' You were three years old.

"Leon," a tiny voice whispered, and with it came even tinier footsteps down the stairs.

Leon paused the TV and turned towards you.

"What is it, princess?" he said, matching your tone.

"I can't sleep," you pouted.

He motioned for you to come closer, and you did.

"Why is that?" he asked, lifting you into his lap.

Sitting on his knee, you said, "I'm scared of monsters".

"But there aren't monsters, sweet pea."

"But what if there are, and we can't see them?"

He looked into your big eyes and saw the genuine worry behind them. He pulled you closer, towards one hip, so that he could safely stand with you in his arms.

"How about we check one more time, and I'll show you that there are no monsters?"

You nodded, head pressed to his chest, relaxing into the comfort of his arms.

He put you down in your bed and looked through every corner of your room - the back of your closet, under the bed, every drawer in your dresser - to prove there were no monsters.

"And even if a monster came in here, I'll be right downstairs, so they'll have to go through me before they can come get you."

"What if the monster gets you?"

"The monsters never win against me."

And that was true. You were too young to understand what he meant, though.

"Can you sleep in here?"

"I can't fit in your bed, princess."

"When I get scared, sometimes Dad sleeps on the floor."

Leon had been substituting for Dad more and more frequently. It made him upset, not at you, but for you. He couldn't believe that, especially after your mother had abandoned you both, your father would choose work, women, and alcohol over you. Someone had to choose you, and that someone was going to be Leon. He always wanted to save people and to be a good man. Heck, he even imagined himself as a father before Raccoon City flipped his life upside down. Since then, he'd resigned to the idea that he'd never get the stereotypical wife and two kids living in a house with a white picket fence. The closest Leon would get to being a family man was when he slept in your father's guest room. He'd made peace with that.

So, that night, he slept poorly on your bedroom floor, even after you bargained with you to give him a pillow. You gave him one of your stuffed animals, too, thinking it might help him in the way that it helped you. He nearly cried at how thoughtful you were as a little kid.

"Thank you, sweet pea," he said, accepting your thoughtful gift.

You smiled, rubbed your sleepy eyes, and said, "Goodnight, Daddy."

Leon heard what you called him, but he never acknowledged it to you. He had a good poker face.

"Goodnight," he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You slept, thank god, and as he suspected, no monsters appeared.

This went on periodically throughout your childhood, your father being gone, and Leon stepping in. At some point, you got old enough that Leon didn't have to sleep on your bedroom floor as you no longer believed in monsters. Ironic, he thought, considering what he'd seen, but he'd never share the horrors of his job with you, even if the government would let him. No one deserved to bear that kind of hurt, not even he did.

Leon was around less once you were old enough to take care of yourself. According to your father, he'd been going through some things - those things remained unspecified, but you put together the pieces once you saw him.

Alcohol. That's what your father meant. It took your father away from you, and you feared Leon would be next. Leon drank a little too much, too often, and when he did, you distanced yourself from him. He never told you that he'd noticed the way you shied away from him, how you always retreated to the safe space of your bedroom when he was over. On the surface, you handled it all quite well. You didn't yell at Leon and tell him to get sober, you didn't cry yourself to sleep, you bypassed the first four stages of grief when you felt like you were losing him. Too used to being disappointed, you preemptively resigned yourself to the fact that he would end up like your father: gone, in one way or another.

Leon got better, though, unlike your father. Neither of you ever talked about it, but your rift mended itself. Leon watched your face light up in hope and gratitude when he refused the drink your father offered him for the first time in a long time. Your hello and goodbye hugs returned, and you made noticeable efforts to linger in his presence; most notably, you went back to derailing the conversation whenever it came to bedtime, something you'd done since you were a kid.

You became a debate champion and a master manipulator when it came to convincing Leon to let you stay up later. Every argument was futile, and he knew it; he continued to play your games for fun, but you had the key to his heart whether you knew it or not, and he would always give in to you.

Leon didn't need to babysit you anymore as you got older, and his work life got increasingly busy. Plus, he had to spend time on therapy and self-care now that he'd decided to get sober. Thus, he saw you less often. It was okay, though; you had secretly and very loosely planned to visit him in D.C. once you graduated college, got a big girl job, and were no longer governed by your father's rule.

Adulthood couldn't come sooner.

For your 21st birthday, you were hoping you could go out with a friend - or go to a party, though you wouldn't tell your dad the second part. However, you had been grounded for partying the weekend before - indefinitely, so your 21st would be spent at home with your dad. It could be a blessing in disguise, you thought initially, since your dad was rarely around. Now, you'd finally get to spend some quality time together. But alas, you were so very wrong about that. At the very last minute, your father was called out on an urgent work mission.

When you were a child, this was his standard excuse for anything from a date to a night out on the town with friends. Sometimes, though, he really was needed at work. You'd allow yourself to believe it this time as a birthday gift. You'd spend the night crying otherwise.

The nail in the coffin was that your dad got you a 'babysitter.' A babysitter on your 21st birthday?! It seemed like there should be a way to legally refuse that kind of thing. You expected the babysitter to be the mean old woman who lived next door; maybe if you were lucky, her daughter, who was slightly less of a bitch, would be in town, and your dad could pay her to take care of you instead.

You were in your room, beginning your pity party, when the doorbell rang.

"Honey, your babysitter is here. How about you come down and say hi," your dad called.

"Tell my babysitter to fuck off," you fired back.

"How about you come tell him yourself?"

Him? You thought. A male babysitter?

You walked downstairs to give this man a piece of your mind, making sure your resting bitch face was securely in place, but when you made it halfway down the stairs, you met the man's eyes and realized, "Leon?!"

You ran into his arms, which were already outstretched for you.

"Hey, Princess," he chuckled into your hair, "did you have something you wanted to say to me?"

"I missed you?"

"No, I thought you were coming down to tell me to 'fuck off.'"

"I didn't know it was you. I would never tell you that."

Your dad was already halfway out the door when he said, "Happy Birthday," with a wink, like they'd planned this night all along. There was no way in your mind that your father was a wingman and not a tyrannical dictator, at least not until that night.

You were a simple woman and could be satisfied with pizza, a movie, and your favorite middle-aged man sitting next to you on the couch.

Leon called the pizza place and ordered the usual for the both of you: half of your favorite toppings and half of his. The estimated delivery time was 30 minutes, according to the person on the phone.

"What's your bet?" Leon asked, hanging up.

"45 minutes," you said.

"Wow, you're pessimistic today," he said.

"No, I'm realistic, and I'm accounting for traffic," you said, "What's your guess?"

"One dollar," he said.

You played by The Price is Right rules - whoever is the closest without going over wins. The prize? The loser has to answer the door when the doorbell rings. It was a low-stakes game.

40 minutes later, Leon was crowned the winner, but you still made him get the door because it was your birthday.

There was another tradition your family shared surrounding pizza; it was an ancient memory but so well-preserved. When you were much younger, having lost the little guessing game, your father answered the door, and Leon remarked off-handedly that the woman was beautiful - she was out of earshot, of course. Your dad jokingly offered to ask for her number on his behalf.

So, when Leon returned with a mischievous smile, you should've known what he was going to say.

"Here, princess," he said, handing you the receipt, "got his number for you. It's right on the back."

"You did not!" you took the receipt in your hands and searched for a phone number on the back, falling for Leon's tricks.

"I did not, you're right." Leon stuck his tongue out at you, as you used to do to him when you were a little girl.

You returned the gesture, and he served you up a slice of pizza, serving himself second like a gentleman would.

Unlike old times, you were allowed to eat in the living room since you'd reached an age where you could be trusted not to ruin the furniture.

On his way to the couch, he made a detour to ruffle your hair. "Movie?" he asked, holding the remote.

"Sure." You sat down beside him, a respectful distance away.

Leon wanted to watch something new, but you wanted to watch Jerry Maguire for the umpteenth time. So, naturally, you compromised by watching Jerry Maguire.

At some point during the movie, you turned to him and said, "I just realized I don't know anything about you."

That was the truth. The only things that you'd gathered from the many years you'd spent around Leon was that he wore a leather jacket, he rode a motorcycle, which you were not allowed to touch, and whatever cologne he wore smelled delightful. You couldn't pinpoint the particular scent, couldn't tell cedar from pine. If you had to describe it, you'd say it smelled familiar and good. You'd never seen him with a woman, and you weren't allowed to know anything about his job, similar to your father's.

"What do you wanna know?" Leon asked.

You hadn't really thought that far. You didn't expect him to be so receptive to your questioning.

"Have you ever been in love?" you blurted out.

He tilted his head to the side, confused about why you'd ask about his love life.

"What?" he asked with a mouthful of pizza.

"I asked -"

"- I heard what you said; I was just wondering why you asked."

"I don't know, really."

"Okay, uh, yeah, I've been in love before," he said, looking towards the ceiling like he was trying to find a memory, "It was a long time ago, though."

"Okay."

"Is that sufficient?"

"I doubt I'll get anything else out of you, so it'll have to do, I guess."

"Smart girl. You say you don't know much about me, but you know me better than you think."

Leon went on to ask you questions about school, your friends, and the like, trying to shift the spotlight from his life onto yours. Getting information from him was like pulling teeth. It made you wonder if he'd learned to keep his secrets due to his line of work or if he was always a private guy.

"Leon?"

"Yes, princess?"

"Can I ask you another question?"

"Based on your last question, I should probably say no, but because it's your birthday, I'll let you continue your interrogation."

"It's not an interrogation. You're not in handcuffs or anything."

"Uh-huh," he said with an eye-roll, "Ask away before I change my mind."

"When did you lose your virginity?" you blurted out.

He choked on his water, spitting it onto his shirt.

"Wow, okay, that's - you're really going there, aren't you?"

"Just answer the question."

"I can't plead the fifth?"

"It's a normal question; you're making it weird." You couldn't meet his eyes and opted to look down at your feet.

Maybe he pitied you because he answered after a deep breath. "I was, uh, 16."

"Was it any good?"

He sighed. "It was okay… for me, at least. I don't know how much she enjoyed it. Didn't really know what I was doing back then."

You hummed in response, nodding and briefly looking up to see his face.

"How 'bout you?" he asked in an unexpected turn of events.

"What?"

"Didn't think you could get away without answering the question, too, did you?"

"Oh," you started, "I'm, uh, I haven't yet."

"Nothing to be ashamed of; it's normal at your age. Not that I'd know, of course."

He was always the one to try to lighten the mood, and it pretty much always worked. You laughed and playfully smacked him before saying, "I'm gonna go get in my pj's, I think."

"Good idea. Gimme your plate, and I'll clean up."

You handed him your plate on the way out of the room, quickly making your way upstairs. You had a plan.

Every man had a sex drive; every man had something that made them tick, but what was that special thing for Leon? How could you entice him if you'd never seen him with a woman? You had no idea what he liked, so all you could do was guess.

You had a cute pink nightgown ready for this occasion. It was all silky with lace trim and all too revealing of your decolletage, peeking through the top, as well as the tiniest pair of panties you owned. A lace thong that matched the trim of the nightgown perfectly.

You waltzed downstairs to find Leon in the kitchen doing the dishes by hand. You decided that you should get a glass of water to put on a little show for Leon. You reached up to the top shelf to grab a glass, which made your nightgown ride up, showing your entire ass, subsequently bending down to reach the filtered water in the fridge, giving Leon a similar view. You couldn't tell if he was looking, but you lingered, teasing him, begging him to take a look. When you turned around, you caught him turning his head in the opposite direction. He knew he'd been caught, too.

You took your glass of water to the couch and sat down, knowing that unless he wanted to walk out the back door, Leon would have to face you in the living room. You could see him trying to fix his pants in a way that would hide his hard-on, but you could still see the bulge when he came into the living room and sat down next to you. He didn't dare look below your neck. You scooted closer to him, and he pretended to look at the clock before saying, "You know what? I'm going to change into something more comfortable as well," and promptly headed upstairs.

When he came back, he was wearing a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, which did a piss-poor job of hiding his erection. You sat there all pretty, smiling at him, watching him shift his weight from foot to foot.

"It's pretty late. I think it's getting close to bedtime," he said, acting like you were still a child.

"Okay," you said, pouting, pretending to be reluctant to walk towards him.

You sauntered over, and he made a deliberate effort not to look at you.

"Will you tuck me in?" you asked, using your cute little pouty face on him - the one that always worked.

"Don't you think you're a little old for that, princess?"

Princess? He must be messing with you. He must know he's making you want him even more, right?

"Please, Leon. It's my birthday."

"Fine. Since it's your birthday, I guess I have to tuck you in, don't I?"

He gestured for you to walk upstairs first. Maybe he did want to get a peek at your ass.

You sat on the edge of the bed, hands in your lap, back straight, with a smile. A good girl.

Leon's figure loomed in the doorway. "I'm gonna level with you here," he started, "I don't know what you're trying to do, but you and I both know this is an act."

"What's an act?" you continued to feign innocence.

"The naive little girl thing. The tiny nightgown, the pouty face, bending over in the kitchen."

"It's your problem if you're turned on by it."

"Who said anything about being turned on by it?"

You looked him in the eyes, then down at his sweatpants, which did nothing to hide his arousal, and then back at his eyes.

He was red in the face. "Fine. You win. Happy?"

"What do I win?"

"Getting to see me embarrassed. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"No."

"Then what is it that you want?" He crossed his arms, waiting for you to say it.

"You."

He shook his head. "Mm-mm. Nope."

"Why not? You want me too."

"It's not right. That's why."

But he didn't deny it.

"I'm 21. I'm an adult."

"But I'm still too old for you. And I've known you since you were a baby."

"And that's exactly why we should feel comfortable around each other."

"I have no problem being comfortable with you in a non-sexual context."

"But it's my birthday."

"You already played that card, princess."

"Please?"

"Please, what?"

"Just one kiss?"

He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, contemplating.

"I won't tell anyone," you promised preemptively.

"One." He walked towards you. "But that's it."

"Deal, but it better be a real kiss. Not like a friendly peck on the lips."

You'd probably given him one of those when you were a toddler. This was different.

"I should've known you'd negotiate further." He pretended to be exasperated, but his smile betrayed him. He had a soft spot for you. "What are the terms?"

"It has to last at least 30 seconds."

"10."

"20 is the lowest I'll go."

"20 for the birthday girl."

He closed his eyes and leaned in. His lips were soft, and his mouth tasted minty. You weren't counting the seconds and hoping he wasn't, either. You knew you were pushing it when you brought your tongue into the equation, but he'd already given in to you. He allowed the tip of his tongue to meet yours.

He pulled away first. Quickly, so you couldn't catch him and pull him back in.

"You happy now?" he asked, much more amused than annoyed.

You stared at him, seeing stars already.

"I think that was only 10 seconds." The edges of lips curved upwards slowly.

"Oh really? I think it was at least a minute."

"I was counting."

"No, you were not."

Despite protesting, he was still sitting in your bed, laughing with you.

"But Leon-"

"But what, princess?" He cocked his head to the side, taunting you.

You were out of bargaining chips. You'd played every card that wasn't flat-out begging him.

"Did you at least think it was good?" you asked, needing his approval more than anything.

"It was great." He sounded sincere, and you hoped that he meant it more than anything.

"Really? You promise you'd never lie to me?" you held out your pinky and he took it in his.

"Promise," he said.

When he was about to stand up, you said, "But if it was good, then why don't you want more?"

He flopped back on your bed and sighed in exasperation. "Because it's not appropriate."

"But that doesn't mean you don't want it."

"No, but it doesn't matter. I'm the adult in the situation, and I'm telling you it's a bad idea."

"I'm the adult, too, and I think it's a great idea."

"Well, I have more experience than you, and I know it's a bad idea."

"If you have more experience, then you can help me."

"How many more arguments do you have? Just hit me with all of them so I can give you a collective 'no,' and then we can both go to bed."

You could see his frustrations dueling in his mind. He was tired of your arguing, but the more frustrated he got at you, still sitting next to him in a tiny pink nightgown, the more he wanted you. His gentle, sweet sexual fantasies about you were being replaced by rougher ones. He knew that if he told you to turn around and get on all fours, you'd do it. He could spank you as punishment for your naughty behavior, and you'd like it.

"I was going to resort to begging next."

"And you think that would break me?"

"It always does."

"Because I have a weak spot for you," he paused, "and because you usually aren't asking me for sex."

"Who said I was asking for sex?"

He glared at you, knowing that was exactly what you wanted.

"You said that you lost your virginity at my age," you said, hoping your reasoning would make sense to him.

"And?" He understood, but that didn't mean he agreed.

"I don't want to be a virgin anymore. I wanna be cool like you, Leon."

You'd told him that before, wearing his leather jacket that was too big for you, waddling around the house as a kindergartner.

"Well, then find a nice guy - or girl - your age and do that on your own time."

"But I want you."

He closed his eyes, resigning himself to the fact that he might have to give into you while he still wanted you gently. Otherwise, with your track record, you'd get him to concede to your wishes, but only after losing self-control, which was the only thing holding him back from tying you to the headboard.

"You don't know this yet because you haven't had this experience yet, but it's hard not to get attached to the first person you're with."

"And? We're already close."

"Not like that, though. We're not dating, not married, and we never will be. I'm trying to protect you."

"I'm not proposing marriage."

"Thank god."

"You've protected me from everything my whole life. Now I'm an adult, and I want to choose. Remember when I was little, you used to say, 'I'll tell you when you're older' or 'When you're an adult, you can make your own choices'? I'm not your responsibility anymore, Leon."

"You never were." He took your hand because he still loved you despite it all. "I care about you, so I can't let you get hurt, but I also can't be with you. And things aren't going to be the same if we do this."

"I promise I'll be okay. I can handle it."

He sat silently for a moment before finally saying, "You're not going to tell your dad, right?"

"No, god no, never."

"You're not going to brag to your friends?"

"Are you saying I'd want to brag? That you're worthy of such high praise?"

"I'd like to think I'm decent at it."

"Is this you agreeing?" Your eyes lit up the way they did whenever you got your way.

"I'm exhausted, you're in a tiny nightgown, and you're begging. I'm powerless against you."

"And I thought that Leon Kennedy could have me pinned down in under a second."

"Is that what you'd like?"

"Maybe." At this point, you were hovering over him, one leg outside each of his. You sat down, straddling him, and he struggled to keep a straight face.

"Have you done anything before?" He asked.

You made a lewd gesture, indicating that you'd performed oral sex on a guy before.

"You're gonna have to be more mature than that if we're gonna do this."

"Fine. I sucked a guy's dick once." You didn't want to be so vulgar, but how else were you supposed to say it?

"Good for you." Leon pretended to be unimpressed, but in truth, he was thinking about the view that guy must've gotten. How perfect you'd look on your knees.

"No, good for him."

"He didn't reciprocate?"

Leon's hands were gripping your hips. You couldn't tell if he wanted you to move or if he was trying to keep you still.

"That's too bad. You're a good girl. You deserve it."

"A good girl?" Your voice faltered, and your eyes said it all.

"Yes, a very good girl." He leaned down and caught your mouth in a quick kiss.

Even looming over you, he looked hesitant to touch you, like you were too delicate and fragile.

"You wanna take this off?" he asked, toying with the hem of your nightgown.

"Only if you agree to take your shirt off."

"Deal."

He sat up and took his shirt off. You could see how his arms flexed when he did it and his now-exposed chest and abs.

"How do you look so good at your age?" You meant to keep that thought to yourself, but your mouth had a mind of its own. As you spoke, you ran your hands down his chest, noting that his body felt as lovely as it looked.

"I'm not sure if I should be offended that you called me old or flattered that you think I look good."

"You look hot."

"You gonna hold up your end of the deal?"

You sat up and removed your nightgown, revealing a tiny white thong with a little bow.

"Cute," he mused, playing with the bow.

"I didn't know what you liked, so I had to guess."

"You did a great job."

His large hands cupped one of your now-exposed breasts in each hand, thumbs running over your nipples, making you shiver.

He hummed in satisfaction at your reaction. Seeing your face flush, he said, "Don't be embarrassed, princess."

You didn't have time to answer before his lips were on yours again, making their way down your neck, stopping to whisper into your ear.

"Promise you'll tell me if I do anything you don't like?"

"Promise."

With open-mouthed kisses, he made his way down to your chest, letting his tongue circle each nipple, looking for weaknesses. It wasn't hard to find them. You were soaking through the thin lace of your panties.

Feeling Leon's lips on your tits, you let out a small moan and tried to cover any others up with a hand over your mouth. Leon removed your hand and said, "Mm-mm. If I do this for you, you can't cover your mouth. I wanna hear your pretty noises."

He made his way to the hem of your panties. The lace barely covered anything. You felt him lap at your folds through the fabric, making you gasp.

"Can I take them off?"

"Uh-huh."

He looked up into your eyes, which had no thoughts behind them other than how much you needed this. He removed your panties, teasing you with kisses on your hip bones and thighs, wanting to see if you'd beg for a feeling you'd never felt.

He made eye contact while he flicked his tongue over your clit, anticipating your strong reaction. You threw your head back and gripped the sheets.

"Already, princess? I've barely even done anything to you," He mumbled into your skin.

There were infinite combinations of words in the English language that could accurately describe your embarrassment, but they were all out of reach, as pleasure had taken your mind hostage.

When Leon had imagined this moment - and yeah, he'd imagined it, filled with such intense lust and followed by an even larger wave of guilt - he'd imagined his fingers inside you by this point. But, now, he was just letting his tongue glide along your folds, trying to tease you, trying to taste you, trying to burn a memory onto his mental hard drive of this moment. He pressed a kiss to your clit and watched as your eyes rolled back and you arched your body off the bed. He'd never seen a woman so sensitive, though. He'd never done anything with a virgin before. Most of the women he'd hooked up with in the past decade were in their 30s.

"Leon," You whined.

"I know, baby girl. Let go for me," he said softly, looking into your eyes with a loving gaze.

He sucked lightly on your clit, leading you through your orgasm. The intense sensation coursed through your entire body, making your thighs tremble, and your moans turn into sobs.

"Oh my god. Daddy!" In the heat of the moment, it just came out.

Leon didn't pull away, despite his surprise - truthfully, he couldn't have because your thighs kept him in a headlock. You could've suffocated him, maybe even broken his neck like that, but he was strong enough that he could push your legs apart if he really needed to breathe. Not that he cared very much. Leon had faced death enough times to know that this would've been one of the best ways to go. He'd take his chances if it meant he got an extra minute between your thighs.

"Daddy, huh? Thought you were an innocent little girl. Shoulda known better."

"Sorry. It was just so good, and I wasn't thinking."

"I know, princess. I'm glad I could make you feel good."

He kissed each cheek and your forehead. The way he'd always done when he put you to bed.

"You wanna go to bed now?" he asked. You couldn't tell if he wanted a 'yes' or a 'no'. The smile on his face was the same as it always was - happy and warm and honest. It was the same look he'd given you when he'd said goodnight to you for decades. He wanted you to sleep because he cared about you but didn't mind having you stay up because he loved you.

"No, I don't wanna go to bed," you said, reaching down to palm him through his sweatpants.

He gave you a look of arousal poorly concealed by hesitation to take things any further.

"I don't wanna hurt you," he said.

You pouted, and he was defenseless.

"Always get what you want," he said under his breath.

You hooked your thumbs in the waistband of his sweatpants, and he took them off.

When you tried to go for his underwear, he said, "Yeah, yeah. Gimme a second."

He got out of bed, and you whined.

"I'll be right there." He feigned annoyance, but he obviously still found you cute.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for my wallet. It's probably in the other room."

He went to your guest room next door, and you were initially confused, worried he'd left you. Until he came back with a condom held between two fingers.

"Did you know this was going to happen?"

"No, but I'm always prepared."

It was the truth. No way in Hell did he ever think this would happen when he came to your house.

"Would you ever do it without one?"

"If you're proposing that, the answer is absolutely not."

Secretly, you both wished for him to be inside you without the rubber barrier. You watched him pull out his dick and slip on the condom unceremoniously as if this wasn't the most important moment of your life thus far.

He caught you ogling. "What? Impressed or disappointed?"

He knew the answer. It wasn't the first time he'd gotten that kind of reaction.

"Do you think it's gonna fit?" you asked.

"No need to flatter me, sweetheart. You've already got me in bed."

"I'm being serious."

"I'll go slow," he assured you, voice quiet and sweet.

He brushed his thumb across your cheek. He kissed you with such tenderness you felt like you might melt.

You got a rush of adrenaline watching him line himself up at your entrance. Both from excitement and nerves. You truly were worried about whether it would fit inside you.

The first thrust was a bit painful - nothing excruciating, just a bit of discomfort - but Leon, worried about you, immediately pulled back and asked, "What's wrong, baby girl? Did I hurt you?"

You nodded meekly and made the "little bit" sign with your pointer and thumb.

"Okay. Lemme try something else then."

At this point, he had pulled entirely out of you, and he started to play with your clit lazily while gazing at your face. All discomfort faded from your expression and was replaced by pleasure. He had you nearly writhing again over such minimal contact.

In his deep, silky voice, he said, "Open," pushing two fingers into your mouth, making sure he didn't go too far and make you gag.

You knew he wanted you to wet them for him, but you decided to give him a little show, too. You looked into his eyes while sucking his fingers, swirling your tongue around them. You could tell he was trying to keep his composure, but you could feel his dick twitch against your leg.

Though he was enjoying the sight, he removed his fingers from your mouth and pushed them, one, then both, into you and gently stroked your inner walls. His other hand was tending to your clit all the while, and you began to feel the pressure in your abdomen rise again. It must've shown on your face because he started pumping his fingers in and out of you with greater force until you were teetering on the edge of a second orgasm. Your walls clenched around his fingers, and he promptly took them away.

"Why did you do that?" You whined with tears, acting like it was the greatest betrayal.

"It's okay, princess. I'm gonna let you come. I wanna be inside you when you do, though."

You felt the head prodding at your entrance; the only thing you felt was a desire for more. The feeling of being stretched out took a moment to adjust to, but it felt good to be filled. He gently gave himself to you inch by inch.

"You're doing so good for me, princess."

"Daddy?" you said in a voice neither of you had ever heard before.

"Yes, baby?" Leon's breath hitched. It didn't matter how wrong it was; it was too good.

I love you. Those were the words you wanted to say, and 'I love you, Leon' was something you'd said a thousand times, but it was never 'Daddy, I love you' - and it was never during sex, obviously.

"Thank you," you said - for what? You weren't sure, but Leon seemed to get the gist.

He didn't say anything, just smiled and then pressed a kiss to your cheek, still thrusting in and out of you, speeding up when he knew you could take it.

The face Leon made when he bottomed out inside you was a heavenly sight. It made you tighten around him, eliciting a low groan from him. He took one hand from beside your head and slid it down between your thighs, touching you where you needed it most. The feeling of him rubbing your clit as he fucked you made your pussy spasm around him.

"Gonna be a good girl and come for Daddy?" he asked.

"Oh my god, Daddy!" You nearly screamed when you came.

Leon did his best to hide his feelings about that word, maintaining the rhythm of his thrusts, thumb not leaving your clit. The physical sensation of you clenching around him nearly sent him over the edge with you, but the conflicting feelings that 'Daddy' gave him held him back. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise.

If you'd told him before that moment that you wanted to call him 'Daddy,' he would've thought it was odd, but watching your eyes roll back and feeling your nails dig into his back as you said it made it sexy.

Once your orgasm subsided, he allowed himself to let go. Your eyes fluttered back open just in time to watch his face as he came.

"Fuck," he groaned, drawn out, followed by heavy breaths.

You were still a bit dazed when he got up, threw the condom in the trash, and immediately collapsed beside you. You were greeted with a kiss on the forehead once you returned to Earth.

Leon stopped himself from saying, "I love you," even though you'd both said it to each other a thousand times over the years. The fact remained that both of you loved each other, but the specificities of that love had now become blurry.

At the risk of embarrassing you, he asked, "So, the whole 'Daddy' thing?"

"I'm sorry. Did it weird you out?"

"I wouldn't put it like that."

"You can just say it did."

"No, it's just – it feels wrong considering the circumstances."

"Yeah, I know. I shouldn't have let myself get that carried away."

"There's no reason to be embarrassed about it. It wasn't a turn-off. I still came, so the proof is… well, it's in your trash can."

You smiled at his attempt to lighten the mood, but your face was still bright red.

"You really shouldn't feel bad about it. It's no big deal."

"But it is. You said it - because…"

You couldn't say, "You're like a second father to me," or anything else that came to mind. The whole thing simultaneously made more and less sense. Of course, he was 'Daddy' in your mind, but in more ways than one.

"I know," he said simply. You didn't need to finish your sentence for him to understand.

"Can you hold me?" You asked, getting teary-eyed for reasons more complicated than you could verbalize. Overstimulation, overwhelming pleasure, a closeness beyond what you'd ever felt with someone before, the sense that things had changed for good, concern that this had caused irreparable damage to whatever bond you'd had, but most of all, how angry you were at your real dad.

"Of course, baby girl, c'mere," Leon said with arms wide open. He sat up in bed, knowing what you wanted. You sat in his lap and clung to him while he held you tightly.

"I can't believe he couldn't even be here for my birthday," you sobbed, still naked in Leon's lap.

"I know, and I'm sorry, princess. I'm upset about it, too."

He pressed little kisses into your hair.

You wondered if maybe Leon was right: you had gotten attached to him, but this part was always going to happen. In every reality, you would've ended up crying in his arms.

All the emotions you tried to keep inside came out of your tear ducts at once, and you felt like a little girl.

You got up eventually to pee because Leon forced you to. He put his pants back on and was about to do the same with his shirt when you asked, "Can I have it?"

"Yeah."

He threw it to you, not even thinking the same thing you were. He'd given girlfriends and hookups t-shirts to wear to bed, but it had nothing to do with sex at this moment; you needed the comfort you always would have. It was like a hug from him. The way you'd sleep in your dad's room when he wasn't home, just to feel like he was there.

You got into your bed, still wearing Leon's shirt, and he got up to leave, as he was supposed to, as you knew he would. Sleeping with you was never part of the agreement, but your eyes flooded with tears when you watched him leave.

"Goodnight," he said at the door.

You were too choked up to say it back. Leon waited for you to speak, knowing what you'd say.

"Don't leave, please," you said, crying, not pouting, not whining, but crying. Leon remembered when you were a kid, and he slept on your bedroom floor because you didn't want to be alone. Because you cried and begged him not to leave, and he felt awful seeing your tears, knowing your mom walked out and your dad was rarely there, knowing that - whether you understood it or not - you meant, 'don't leave me like everyone else.' Leon couldn't do that to you, couldn't leave a neglected little girl alone. As he'd told you, he didn't have to do this by any obligation other than a self-imposed one. Sleeping in your bed right now was dangerous - your father could walk in, you could get the wrong idea and get more attached, you could try to go for round two - but, if you hadn't had sex, if he'd done the right thing in the first place and said no, you'd still have been crying in his arms, you'd still ask him to stay. The right thing to do would be to stay.

He nodded and climbed into bed with you, letting you rest your head on his chest.

Leon was right: you were so very attached to him.

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #fics #miss oranje fics

1K notes · View notes

alottiegoingon · 6 months ago

Text

hc!friends to lovers

natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

summary: going from friends to lovers with nat

warnings: golden retriever gf x black cat gf dynamic, nat is secretly a softie, drugs and mommy/daddy issues mentions, cursing, pure fluff, not proofread

𖧊 to this day, nat still has no idea on how you two became friends. you were too different

𖧊 it started with you complimenting her makeup once and she was so rude cause she thought you were making fun of her

𖧊 “your eyeliner is so pretty,” you tried to be nice just to receive a “fuck off” and a middle finger right to your face. you were flabbergasted! you were just trying to be nice to a pretty blonde girl and now you were her enemy?

𖧊 your huge smile disappeared in seconds and when nat realized you weren’t mocking her, she got desperate. “oh, shit. you were actually serious?”

𖧊 she was constantly being slutshamed and harassed by the mean students and the idea of being complimented by you didn’t even make it to her head

𖧊 you were too sweet for her taste. too smiley, too happy, too soft and too excited. her words, not mine. but damn, you were pretty

𖧊 not that she would ever tell you that, but being friends with you was better than spending her days alone or with the other two guys she had for friends but were nothing but drug buddies

𖧊 “dude, what the fuck is that?” she grunts at the second you show her one of your favorite songs by backstreet boys “it’s so cheesy!”

𖧊 you held her arms and made her dance with you and she was so embarrassed and tried to brush it off by complaining a lot but her eyes didn’t lie. she kinda enjoyed that

𖧊 then, late at night when she’s unable to sleep, she secretly listen to the too happy and annoying shit type of songs you liked just to think of you :(

𖧊 she eventually found herself enjoying the cranberries, spice girls and lots of your catchy pop or soft songs while doing chores and would never forgive herself for that

𖧊 at first, nat was easily annoyed by you. by your overwhelming enthusiasm and positivity and how you would always see the good in others even if they didn’t deserve

𖧊 however, that didn’t mean you wouldn’t speak up for her. if anyone was caught talking shit about nat, you were always the first one to have her back. “excuse me? hi. that’s my friend you are talking about and you might wanna apologize to her right now!”

𖧊 bless your heart you really tried to be scary like her. at least the intention was there right

𖧊 “i don’t need you to defend me,” she was already snarling at you but you could see in her eyes that she didn’t mean that. she just didn’t like being vulnerable in front of others

𖧊 nat was tough, she could take care of herself. you knew that but you couldn’t let anyone be mean to her

𖧊 “i know, but i care about you!” “yeah, whatever 🙄🙂”

𖧊 and it worked the other way around as well. a single threatening glance of nat was enough to make anyone scared of even saying your name. yes, you were a pain in her ass but she was the only one who could say that

𖧊 “but you just said she was annoying,” her friend kevin defends himself from her scary look. “don’t call her that, asshole”

𖧊 nat couldn’t invite you over to her house trailer so you would usually hang out at your house or secret places she knew

𖧊 nat is a really lonely and independent person and that’s a consequence of her unstable childhood. running away from the mess she had for parents, she eventually discovered a nice small park with pretty trees around and thought it would be the perfect hiding spot

𖧊 smoking with nat? obviously a must. you would give her the old speech saying that it was terrible for her physical and mental health (🤓☝️) even if you were 100% sure that she wasn't listening and was just giving you ironic commments. "you don't say, princess"

𖧊 deep down, very deep down, she appreciated you

𖧊 “kevin told me he caught you listening to backstreet boys yesterday” you smile at her, watching her messy bleached hair cover half of her face as she smokes

𖧊 “fucking kevin,” she mutters under her breath and it’s the perfect opportunity to play around with her. “aren’t you gonna deny it? wow, you must really like me, nat”

𖧊 “shut up, princess.”

𖧊 it was meant to be ironic but since the first time she called you that, you two were sure that it was nothing but a caring nickname and you were a complete sucker for it

𖧊 spending time together became a casual thing and as essential as breathing. that didn’t go unnoticed

𖧊 showing up to support her on a game day or just practice, holding a big sign with her name written with gliter gel pens and smiley faces and cheering so loud that people near you had to cover their ears

𖧊 thanks to that, she was so flustered that couldn't focus on the actual game

𖧊 classically, the yellowjackets would always make fun of her when you were around but especially when you weren’t. “are you happy that your girlfriend came to see you today?” van teases nat and suddenly she became their favorite subject to talk about

𖧊 “she’s not my fucking girlfriend!” she flips them off and storms off to hide how unbelievably red her cheeks were

𖧊 nat didn't take long to realize she felt different about you. but her doing your eyeliner to match her after you insisted didn't help. it was pretty hard to mantain her toughness when you were lying in bed with her on top, straddling you with face so close that you could smell the blunt in her breath

𖧊 "thanks, nat. what do you think?" you ask when she's done

𖧊 "not bad. thanks to me, obviously," she acts casually but she's like 🧍🏼‍♀️😊😮‍💨😵 seeing you with her goth ass makeup

𖧊 being jealous of you near anyone who would say hi to you was also a clear sign

𖧊 going from friends to lovers with nat would be something hard for her at first. she isn't used to trusting people that much. loving someone? what was she thinking?!

𖧊 this means that she would definitely push you away, intentionally or not, and would act weird for days until you finally confronted her

𖧊 and she tries to be rude to make you leave but it doesn’t work. eventually she opens up about her feelings, shaking and at the verge of tears, and you hug her tightly

𖧊 “i like you too, nat”

𖧊 holds your chin when kissing you 😵‍💫

𖧊 jealous girlfriend that was always there to keep an eye on you but wouldn’t say the words “i’m jealous” even if her life depended on it

𖧊 dating nat meant her having part time jobs to save money for weeks just to buy you something nice for your birthday or to take you to a special place in a special occasion. you cried like a baby

𖧊 you were aware that she struggled with money and you weren't rich either, so you kept things discreet. you would come to her with a tape with lots of songs that reminded you of her, "nat, you won't believe what i made you!"

𖧊 “i have no idea, baby..." but she definitely did cause you would do that at least twice a month

𖧊 she would be the first one to say “i love you” accidentally and got so stressed trying to fix her mistake with a cough but you had heard her and was freaking out, smile from ear to ear

𖧊 “you’re a moron, i love you” it took her five seconds to go from 😁 to 😧

𖧊 “i love you too.”

𖧊 when it comes to affection, i feel like she would be hesitant at first, not knowing what to do. having sex with random people was really different from wanting to show her love for you, it was harder

𖧊 realistically, nat wouldn't be the touchy type. she never really experienced affection from her parents (at least not in a long time), so it would be something new, but wouldn't be opposed to it once she realized how comforting it felt

𖧊 100% touch starved. you stroke her cheek once and she's tearing up already

𖧊 pretends to be bothered but always melts completely when you kiss her and loves to hold hands and intertwine fingers

𖧊 not everything was perfect and sharing feelings wasn’t easy for her. either way, you were always there for her, listening to her talk about her shitty parents or just comforting her after a bad day

BONUS!!!

𖧊 if the iconic barbie movie was released in the 90s, you would BEG her to wear pink clothes to go to the movies together and she would deny it every single time

𖧊 “but it would be so cute! we would match 🥺” you insisted, knowing that she was so close to cave in

𖧊 “it’s gonna make me look stupid, i don’t wear pink. quit it, princess,” nat nods, convinced that you would eventually forget about it

𖧊 a week later, nat is found at the movie theater looking like a damn flamingo

𖧊 “what happened to you? met an unicorn on the way here?” shauna mocks her as soon as she sees the blondie wearing a bright pink suit and black boots, matching your same color dress

𖧊 “shut up,” she gives them her middle finger

𖧊 “happy wife, happy life,” tai murmurs and she just nods, defeated. shauna, tai and van, all in pink thanks to your incessant pleas, followed her to get the tickets while you and jackie were excitedly buying snacks and pink popcorn containers shaped like barbie’s car

𖧊 (she definitely cried at the end and you had to kiss her tears away)

#had a hard time making this not angsty #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio

619 notes · View notes

beesspacedotorg · 9 months ago

Text

Romance is Doomed (Lie)

Summary: your parents tumultuous relationship has given you very little hope and expectations for your own. your boyfriend, Seungmin, seems determined to change that ... at least until he forgets an important romantic holiday. 4.2k

Warnings: angst. fluff. Kim Seungmin. porn. insecure reader. edging. no body type or pronouns mentioned. bad (?) parents. I wrote this based on a very sad conversation my parents had, so reader has mommy and daddy issues (double whammy). reader is insecure and at one point starts waxing poetic about being unlovable (????) but Seungmin calls them out on it so dw. This is my first time writing Seungmin so ... he might be a little ooc.

note: I don't really have an explanation for this. my parents made me sad so I wrote a fanfiction about Kim Seungmin to make me feel better. This is incredibly self indulgent, so if you don't like it that's okay. this is literally in my google docs as "This is for me and if you don't like it, sucks" so.

You know that it’s his job, so you can never get mad at him for it, not really. That would be irrational, and crazy, and you are neither of those things- or, not enough of those things to kick up a fuss. Still, when you hear him say it something in your chest pangs and you are left with a weird, hollow emptiness that you have no name for.

“Who’s your valentine?” Everyone is asking him, he’s an idol, it’s his job.

“Stay!” He smiles cutely and it squints his eyes slightly as he does. You can see his perfectly white and perfectly aligned teeth on your phone and you pause the video to switch to a different app instead, but your feed is perfectly curated to show you videos and pictures of your boy and his group, so all you see is him and that damned clip from that damned video.

You’re launched back to a conversation you’d had with your parents. It was in jest, you weren’t serious, but the tone of the day shifted drastically after you’d asked it.

“Mom, who’s your Valentine?” You were drinking the soda you’d just refilled and wincing slightly at the carbonation as you walked towards the car.

“No one, your Dad hasn’t asked me yet.”

“Dad, are you and Mom each other's Valentines?” He’s opening the door as you ask.

“No.” You can see your mom’s face fall, and for the rest of the day there’s a kind of gray cloud hanging over your parents. That moment sticks with you, and every year you think about it.

You and Seungmin are different though, you’re absolutely positive that he loves you. You’re absolutely positive that he cares about you and wants you around, you’re absolutely positive that if he wanted to get rid of you, he would. But he hasn’t, so you trust that he wants you around. But, this is his job. This is his job and you knew what you were getting into when the two of you started dating, so you can’t be mad at him, you won’t be mad at him.

“How are things at home?” You’re on the phone with your mother, you call her once a week. No matter what she’s put you through, she’s still your mother and you still love her, so you call.

“Oh, the usual. Your Dad is being. You know.” She sounds sad as she says it, and the worst part is that you do know. Crotchety and mean and in pain and cruel. So, you do know, and you feel bad for your mom when she says it. She is his wife, and he cannot spare her a drop of kindness.

The call ends, as it always does, with one of you saying something cutting and the other hanging up without responding to the “I love you” at the other end of the line. You look at your calendar. Valentine’s Day is tomorrow and he still hasn’t asked you. Your mom says he might just assume that you two are each other’s Valentine’s because you’re together, you say that it would still be nice if he asked. Your mom tells you not to hold your breath. You tell her that you aren’t planning on it.

It took the two of you a while to get together, longer than it should have, probably. But, as in all things, you are naturally distrustful of the intentions of strangers, or strangers-turned-friends-turned-? so you avoided the topic any time he would try and hint at it.

“I have two tickets to the Giants game tonight!”

“Sick! Those are hard to come by, Seungminnie! I hope you and Jeongin have fun.”

“Well, actually-”

“Hey! Did I ever tell you about this thing I saw the other day?”

When you did finally stop avoiding it, he asked you why, and you told him it was stupid, and he said nothing can be stupider than the time he and Felix managed to over whip the eggs for their souffle pancakes, truly a feat considering the fact that the eggs they were using were cold.

“I like you a lot,” you’d said. “I like you a lot and it feels like the love I have for you is replacing the air that I breathe, and I know, one day, you’ll get tired of me and my sadness and my everything, and I’d rather not have to spend years of my life filling in the hole that you’ll leave with foam that’ll collapse come morning.”

He’d paused for a moment, and you’d looked at the ground.

“I don’t want you to get tired of me and leave. I don’t want to be afraid you’ll leave so I do it first and regret it days later. I don’t want you to get tired of me and stay only to make jabs at me until I am nothing but a pasta strainer masquerading as a person.”

He’d frowned at you.

“Do you really think that little of me?”

“What?”

“Do you think that I would walk away like that? That I wouldn’t put in effort to stay, or to make you stay? That I would hate you so much that I would share a bed with you and hurt you at the same time?”

“No, but-”

“Listen,” he grabs your hands, “I’m not entirely sure why you think the way that you do about these things, and I won’t promise that I won’t hurt you- I’m not that stupid. But I promise that I’ll try not to, that I’ll make it up to you if I do. But you have to promise me something too, okay?”

“What’s the promise?”

“Don’t think of me that way. I’m mean, sure, but I’m not evil.”

“It’s not that I think you’re evil-”

“But I’m the one doing those things to you, right? In your head, it’s me? Whether you deserve it or not, I’m the one doing it.”

“... I see your point.”

“Good, I was running out of emotionally intelligent things to say. If you hadn’t been worn down we would’ve had to rain check this conversation for another day.” You laugh at him and he holds your hand.

“Your whole speech was really poetic, by the way, how long have you been sitting on that?”

“How long have I been alive?” He laughs, because he was supposed to, but he places a kiss on your temple too. And there’s a moment where you think that romance isn’t doomed, and, maybe, neither are you.

The first time you and Seungmin have sex, you spend the whole time worrying if he secretly finds you gross and disgusting. Well, you try to, but at that point, he’s gotten pretty good at telling when you’re writing heavy prose in your head and he then does his absolute best at making you lose your mind with pleasure. He succeeds.

“What were you thinking about?” Is what he says while he’s testing the shower water to make sure it’s hot enough to keep you warm. You’d tried to find a happy middle once, while you were showering together (In the dark, because “your eyes hurt”. You just weren’t ready for him to see you naked.) and goosebumps had broken out across your skin almost immediately, you’d shivered so hard it sent your teeth chattering, and your lips had started turning blue. When the two of you got out and Seungmin noticed, he’d said that you two would just shower together at temperatures comparable to the lakes of hell and he’d get over himself.

You shake your head at him. He won’t like your answer. He asks you this often, when you shrink in on yourself, and when you tell him, he always looks a little sad. But you don’t like to lie, and it’s bad manners to keep things a secret from your partner, so you tell him.

“I was worried you thought I was like, I dunno. Ugly, or something.” He deadpans at you. You worry that he’s mad. He huffs and drags a hand down his face.

“I’ve never come so hard in my life and you think that I’m not attracted to you? I came so hard I nearly blacked out, came so hard I think I told you that I loved you and you think that I think you’re ugly.” You feel slightly chided. He grabs your hand and gently guides you into the shower.

“Just because you feel that way about yourself doesn’t mean that I do.” He’s looking into your eyes as he says it, tucking your hair out of the way because it doesn’t need to be washed yet while he reaches behind you to grab the body wash. You gape at him like a fish.

“Close your mouth,” he nudges your jaw shut gently, “you don’t want to catch flies.”

You have something new to think about.

241302 11:37 am

Seungminnie?

eunming

seunmind

no!

having trouble yoebo?

ah shit

haha! yoebo

-_-

what did you even want

I love uou

yoo

Jesus Christ

YOU

cringe

Your boy isn’t one for romance and displays of affection, you know that. But you’ve had such an awful and weird day that you can’t brush off what he says like you normally would. It’s not even noon and yet everything that could throw you off the wheel emotionally has. Like they all took turns, throwing you off, dragging you back in, and repeating it until you were a nice, buttery consistency.

He’s busy though, work and schedules and being an idol, so you reply with your usual sad face and nothing else and take a nap. Naps always fix things.

241302 11:45am

jagi?

is everything okay?

have fun doing whatever it is then

i enjoy being around you most of the time!

241302 1:27pm

hannie showed me this video

well

he didn’t show me per se

he showed linohyung and i was being nosy

but anyways

it was this cat that was very small

has an outrageous win/loss ratio for hunts

i think you would like it!

it’s called a

sorry i had to ask hannie its name again

the black footed cat he says

241302 4:15pm

hihi

you havent texted all day

are you gaming again kkkk

i was going to come over but i dont want to interrupt

should i just stay and game with yongbokkie???

maybe if we play genshin i’ll see you

we can finally co-op!

241302 5:27 pm

ahh

youre not on genshin :(

are you playing something else

jagi?

hmmm

make sure you eat and use the bathroom kkkkk

you always forget when you get sucked in

You’re jolted awake by a very loud and rough knock on your front door. Also by the sound of your phone ringing incessantly. You answer the phone first.

“Hello?” Your voice is slightly panicked, no one ever calls you save for when it’s an emergency, so you’re half expecting someone to be dying or dead when you pick up. You’re halfway out of bed and scanning your floor for a pair of pants when the banging on your door stops and you register the voice on the other end of the phone.

“Did you change your lock?”

“Did I- Seungmin, what?”

“My key doesn’t work anymore.” He sounds like he’s pouting.

“The building changed it recently. Something about security measures or whatever.”

“Ah. Come open the door.” You’re opening the door as he says it, rubbing your eyes and blinking at him.

“Were you asleep?” He’s toeing his shoes off. He has something behind his back.

“Yeah.”

“Explains why you didn’t answer your texts, then. I got worried.” He kisses the side of your face.

“Seungmin, what on earth is in your hands right now?” He looks down.

“Keys and my phone.” You stare at him.

“The other one, genius.”

“Yes, I like to think I am. Thank you.” You keep staring. He sighs. He hands you a thing of your favorite candy with a note that says “more to follow” attached.

“It’s come to my attention-”

“Was it Chan? Or Changbin, this time?” He glares slightly.

“It’s come to my attention, and I realized this all on my own with no outside help-”

“Sure.”

“With some outside help-”

“Better.”

“That tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, and some people enjoy being asked by their partners if they will participate.”

“Is this you asking?”

“I’m getting there!” He takes your hands the best he can while you’re still holding the candy and the note and looks at you again.

“I am sorry I didn’t ask sooner. I will ask sooner next year and the year after that and the year after that and so on and so forth. But!” He gets down on one knee. You kick him slightly with your foot.

“Unless you’re proposing, you better stand back up.” He stands back up.

“Will you be my Valentine?” You can feel your eyes water.

“If I have to.” You roll your eyes for show. Seungmin stands still for a moment.

“Is that how I sound to you?”

“Sometimes.” He raises an eyebrow. “Most of the time.”

“I am hilarious.” You roll your still-wet eyes as you open the candy.

“That’s not the whole gift.”

“I gathered, there’s a note that says so right here.” He huffs at you, giving you that deadpan stare again. He told you once that you’re one of the few people he’s met who can give and take his sarcasm in equal measures, you told him that was the nicest thing he’s ever said to you, he hit you with a pillow.

He doesn’t answer, instead he pulls you closer by the back of your neck and kisses you. Kissing Seungmin is always an experience, it always makes your head slightly fuzzy and makes your heart stutter in your chest. You think that if it was possible to die by kissing, you would’ve done it the first time you and Seungmin made out. As it stands, you just feel a little unsteady on your feet.

Seungmin pulls away and you catch yourself staring at his mouth, wet and pink and swollen just enough that it reminds you of when he had braces and his mouth was always slightly pushed out. He grabs your hand and leads you to your bedroom, placing his gifts for you somewhere on your dresser before he nudges you onto the bed.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” His hands are winding around your waist, pushing your shirt out of the way, and he’s kissing you again.

“You’ve told me before,” you say it against his mouth, hands coming to tangle in his soft, fluffy, recently dyed hair and you can feel the sigh he emits from where your chests are pressed together.

“Can I compliment you just once?” You smile, cheeky.

“No. Never.” He grumbles something about you being impossible as he tugs your shirt off, leaning down to mouth at your chest. You tug his hair lightly and he shoots a glare up at you.

“What.”

“It’s not fair that I’m not wearing a shirt and you are.”

“‘It’s not fair that-’ Be patient.”

“I thought this was a Valentine’s day gift.”

“It’s about to turn into a Valentine’s day ungift if you don’t stop.”

“What the fuck is an ungift?” He shoves his hand down your pants to shut you up.

“You always have to be so difficult,” you interrupt his sentence with a choked off moan. “Can’t ever just be good for me, can you? Always have to fight me every step of the way.” You shake your head at him, denying it.

“Don’t lie, you’re doing it right now. You’re lucky today is a holiday, or I really would turn this into whatever the opposite of a gift is.”

The tone shift would’ve given you whiplash if you had enough mental facilities left to think, or if this wasn’t so on par with what you expect from him. Seungmin likes to keep you on your toes, sometimes letting you push without any retaliation, sometimes letting you get away with nothing at all. It seems he’s more merciful today, and you pull him close for a “thank you” peck that soon turns into something more.

“Seungmin, please-”

“Desperate. You’re always so desperate.”

“You’re being mean.”

“Am I?” The hand that’s touching you slows down and you whine at him. “Am I being mean to you?” He tilts his head to the side, falsely curious and fully condescending. He adds a fake pout for good measure.

“I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be apologizing after all. I should be nicer to you, shouldn’t I?” He’s cooing slightly at you, and you know he’s not being genuine, but you really just want him to go back to touching you like he was earlier, so you pout back and nod. He gives you a kiss on your downturned mouth and picks his pace back up.

Soon enough, you’re forgetting that he was ever being devious in the first place and then you’re spilling on his fingers. You’re brutally reminded when he keeps going, when he pins down your hands as they try to push him away, when he bullies his stupidly slender hips between your thighs so you can’t close them. It feels like your nerves are on fire, but at the same time you want more. You’re cumming again and tears spring to your eyes at the confusing sensation of too much and not enough and you can vaguely hear Seungmin mumbling empty platitudes at you through the sharp ringing in your ears.

There’s a brief pause where he shoves your bottoms and underwear off, mad about them being in his way, and then the confusing feeling is back again as his hand returns.

“Seungminnie, Seungmin, I can’t, I can’t.” You’re thrashing around hard enough that you’ve accidentally kicked the comforter off the bed.

“You can. I know you can. Just this last one, okay, baby? And then you can have whatever you want.” You know he would stop if you wanted him to, but you don’t really want him to. You want him to make you come a third time on his fingers and then you want to do it on his cock. His stupidly perfect cock.

Sometimes, when you’re busy waxing poetic about love and Seungmin and life, you think about how the two of you were most certainly made for each other. How Seungmin was made to fit you in all the ways that you were made to fit him and that whatever force brought you together made his cock with you in mind. The way it fits inside you and gives you that almost-too-full feeling without ever being too much always makes your head spin and you clench involuntarily at the thought of it even now. It doesn’t escape Seungmin’s notice, because of course it doesn’t, and he laughs a little at you.

He stops laughing when you come on his hand again, and eases you through it until you're twitching away from him and whining and then he’s kissing the space between your eyebrows and shucking off his own clothes.

You spend a minute just staring at him. He’s beautiful. You think he’s the most handsome and perfect man in the world and he has the audacity to walk around saying that he’s just “decent.” It’s moments like these where you finally understand what he gets all pissy about when you say you don’t like the way you look.

You’re drawn back into reality when you see him wrap one of his beautifully huge hands around his dick and you whine at him.

“What now?” The words are meant to be sharp but he’s too out of breath when he says them, so you brush it off.

“You said I could have whatever I wanted and I want your cock!” You sound petulant, even to yourself. “You can’t- Seungmin!” He huffs and drops his hand from himself and you can see his muscles tense with how hard he’s trying to give you what you want.

“Needy and desperate. You came three times and I can’t even come once before you’re begging for more.” He’s sliding into you as he says it, wincing as you tighten in sensitivity and stilling with the effort of not coming too soon. You nod at him anyways, finally agreeing to the things he’s saying. If he asked you to jump out of an airplane with no parachute right now, you’d probably say yes, as long as he would finally start fucking you.

“Mhm. Want you- want you all the time. Need you all the time.”

“Yeah? All the time?” His hips are sloppy and uncoordinated as he fucks into you, but you wouldn’t be able to handle much anyway with how sensitive you are, so you’re grateful that Seungmin has lost his composure.

“All the time.”

“Guess that makes you a slut then, hmm?” You huff, gathering as much of your shot coordination as you can to weakly hit him in the chest.

“No. Only want- I only want you.” He coos, softening.

“Yeah? Only me?” You nod. “Does that make you my slut then?” You shake your head. “No? What are you then, hmm?” You’re not sure, but you know that you love him, and the force of your love for him shakes every atom in your body if you think about it too long.

“I love you.” It’s all you can say, so it’s all that comes out of your mouth and Seungmin kisses your face because he can’t aim for a specific spot with how the two of you are moving and you know that he understands you because he always does.

“I love you, too. Love you so much. I’ll keep saying it until you believe me.” You let out a slight sob against his mouth and he shushes you.

“Pretty, you’re so pretty, baby. I love you so much.” He’s muttering it against your skin, hips meeting yours over and over until you’re tightening around him with an orgasm that’s almost too much to handle and he’s spilling into you too.

There’s a moment where the two of you just sit there, panting and breathing each other’s air, stuck together with sweat and cum and Seungmin’s dick that’s still inside of you and then your lip is wobbling and tears are spilling hot and fresh down the sides of your face.

“Woah, woah what’s wrong? My dick game isn’t that bad, is it?” You shake your head at him and tug him down for a hug. He lets out a noise as he’s flattened against you and his face is smushed against the bed. He has to move his head to the side to avoid suffocating, so his breath is hitting the inside of your ear and you move your head away because it’s very uncomfortable. He wraps his arms around you the best that he can from your position and when his dick slips out, you whine.

“Listen, I would totally love to still be inside you right now, but I think my dick might fall off, so just gimme a minute, yeah? Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I thought you forgot.”

“Forgot- oh. About Valentine’s? I might’ve forgotten to ask you to be my Valentine, but I didn’t forget about the holiday. I was actually strong-arming Channie hyung into letting me skip out on our schedules tomorrow. I was- I am, gonna spend the day with you.” His voice is low because of how close he is to your ear, but yours isn’t when what he says makes you cry harder.

“Everyone always forgets.”

“Not me. Not me, baby. I have to live up to my title of most dedicated boyfriend, I can’t just forget about holidays.”

“Who even,” your breath catches because of your tears as you start to calm down, “who even gave you that title?”

“It’s not important.”

“Seungmin.”

“... it was Hannie.” You let out another cry, but you’ve calmed down enough that this one is for show.

“I can’t believe,” your breath hitches again, “I can’t believe you’re gonna leave me for Han Jisung, ace of Stray Kids.”

“Yeah,” he turns his face flat. “I am, unfortunately. Sorry to break it to you.”

“That’s okay,” you turn your tear-stained face to look at him, smirk stretching across your mouth, “I’ll just go and date Stray Kids’ best vocalist. Bang Christopher Chan.”

“Yah! You said you stopped having a crush on him!”

“And you said you wouldn’t leave me for one of your members!” He huffs and hides a smile in your shoulder as he moves to the side of you to hug you better.

“I love you. I really do,” he says. He’s moved your head to the side so you’re looking into his pretty brown eyes as he says it.

“I love you, too.” You do, you really do. You hope he can feel it from where he’s touching your skin. You hope he can feel it even when he’s nowhere near you. He smiles at you, and you think that he can. You think that he knows how much you love him and he loves you with the same sort of ferocity. You look at him and you think that romance isn’t doomed, and neither are you.

#bee blurbs #happy valentines day losers #ft.seungminnie #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin x you #kim seungmin smut #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #idk what other tags to add so this is all youre getting #seungmin x reader #seungmin smut

486 notes · View notes

dilfl0v3rss · 1 year ago

Text

annoying things they do

𝑜𝑛𝑦

- doesn’t let you sleep in unless he’s sleeping in too. like this nigga would literally wake you up at eight am. durag, plaid pajama pants, and hoodie on. with his keys jingling in his hands on some, “ma get up we going to the store.”

- goes through a bottle of juice in less than two days. you literally have to buy him his own minute made and orange juice because if the two of you share it’ll be gone so quick.

- steals a lot of words and phrases from you, and they’re either used so wrong that you laugh or so right that you’d have no choice but to stand in shock. like he’d come home from the barbershop and go up to you like, “like my cut ma? it’s eating rightttt?” and you’d just be standing there like how do you know how to use that?

- this man is greedy. like all of them are greedy, but ony is a different type of greedy. he would never eat your food without permission, but let you open up a bag of chips around him. the next thing you gon see is his big ass hand in your face on some, “lemme get one” or if you eating a burger or a slice of pizza and he see you enjoying it. he’s in your face immediately. “lemme get a bite ma. shit look mad good.”

- smacks your ass so damn hard. like when y’all are having sex it’s not really an issue, but why is he sending you flying at eleven in the morning while you’re making eggs.

𝑛𝑠𝑓𝑤

- says the dirtiest shit in your ear and just walks away after. he doesn’t care where y’all are either. you could be walking through the baby section of walmart just because it’s the fastest route to where you needed to go and he’d come up behind you, making you stop in your tracks as he put his hand on top of where yours were gripping the cart, dick print all on your ass while he whispers in your ear. “keep screaming ‘nut in me daddy’ while i’m fucking you and soon you gon be buying shit from here”. you didn’t even get to reply because once you moved to turn around he backed up from you and kept walking.

- always wants to finger you while he’s driving. especially if you have a sundress onnnn. he don’t care how long or short the drive is, you’re going to cum before y’all get to the destination. and it be so random because he asks so plainly like “ma pull your dress up. wanna play wit her”. not even looking away from the road. you’d try to talk him out of if, but ony doesn’t care. “ion care if we five minutes away. i could make you cum in two.”

- will fuck you literally anywhere. if you tease him you have about ten minutes to fix it or he’s going to fix it himself. which means taking you literally anywhere so he can get what he wants. sometimes you don’t even have to tease him. all it really takes is a pretty outfit and some nice perfume and he’s on you. he’s fucked you in fitting rooms, club bathrooms, party bathrooms, his old bedroom at his moms house, and the list goes onnn. if you looking good he’s on that ass.

𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑒

- heavy sleeper like it’s ridiculous. the first few minutes of him sleeping he’ll probably wake up if he hears something, but once he’s been sleep past an hour there is no waking that man up.

- literally bites you. if you point in his face he’s going to try to bite your finger. if y’all are play fighting and he gets on top of you he’s going to try to bite your neck. when y’all are chilling and he’s laying on your ass he’s going to eventually bite it. he has a serious problem.

- mocks your moans or plays your tapes out loud around the house if he feels that you’re “playing” with him. so if y’all are going back and forth don’t even bring up anything about his dick because he will use your moans against you.

“that’s not what you was saying last night. what happened to, ‘oh my god papi your dick so biggg’ and ‘please daddy i wanna have your baby’?”

or if y’all just got done arguing and you decide to just walk away and start cleaning (i clean when i’m mad). you’d be washing the dishes and out of nowhere just start hearing pornographic slaps and moans being played on the house speaker.

“daddy pleasee m’so sorryyy.*slap slap slap slap* you sorry ma? *slap slap slap* y-e-sssss fuckkkk.”

you’d sprint from the kitchen to the living room where connie was sitting, just sitting there rolling up like the whole house doesn’t sound like a scene off of pornhub. you’d try to snatch the phone from him, but he’d move his hand and get up. putting the phone high in the air so you can’t reach. “connie you bet-”

“say you sorry and i’ll turn it off”

- sometimes he’ll purposely not kiss you back when you kiss him. just letting you move your lips on his while he keeps his in a straight line to piss you off.

- just starts randomly acting like you. like you could be getting something from the fridge and he’ll walk up to you, chest full of tattoos, sweats sagging on his waist, holding up his phone. “girllll you really ate the girls up wit your new ig post. the fit is giving rich gyalll.”

𝑛𝑠𝑓𝑤

- eats you out for sooooo long. like he doesn’t care if you are screaming crying or passed the hell out. only when he feels like he’s done will he stop. if you try to stop him he’ll just say “it’s not about you mami. this for me” and then continue to remove your soul from your body.

- will purposely hit the wrong spots inside you when you piss him off. they aren’t particularly bad spots, but he knows you’ll never cum from him hitting them. of course you’ll complain about it because you know he’s doing it on purpose. “con s-stop ittt!” but of course he just has something smart to say back to you. “stop playin in my face and maybe i’ll hit it right.”

- another one that’ll fuck you anywhere, but he’s worse with it. he’s fucked you on the side of the road one night. passenger door open with you bent over the seat while he fucked you from outside of the car. he gives no fucks.

- is always breaking something. you tried to cuff him one time while you gave him head. he broke the cuffs…and it didn’t stop there. he’s broken two headboards, one of your nails, your glasses, and almost all of your waist beads while fucking you.

𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑛

- if you piss him off before going to bed he’s going to take your bonnet right tf off while you asleep. then will proceed to laugh at you in the morning while your yelling cursing about your hair being fucked up.

- randomly starts yelling song lyrics. like y’all could be sitting on the couch and your bones would literally shake in your body cause he thought it would be okay to yell pop smoke lyrics out of nowhere.

-bends you over and starts acting like he’s fucking you. like if you’re making a tiktok while he walks in the room he will literally push you down by the back of your neck and start “drilling” your shit in the camera.

- wakes you up just to make you do stupid shit. you would be sleeping like a baby just to be shook up by his big ass hands on your shoulders. you’d wake up in a panic and he’d go “mama. mama look! the obama’s need our help we gotta get the men in black and shoot the aliens cmon!” and of course your confused ass is gon get up, taking the broom he handed to you and going into the living room to “fight”. when you realize what he said and turned towards him, he was already well into laughter. watching you mumble curses under your breath before walking back to your room.

𝑛𝑠𝑓𝑤

- if you’re the one coming to him for sex he’s going to make you work for it. he loves when you take the initiative, getting on top of him and taking what you need. it was the sexiest thing in the world so now if you want it you have to come get it. if you try to whine about it he’ll just tell you, “s’your dick mama. if you really wanted it you would take what you need instead of just having daddy fuck you silly all the time.”

- teases you soooo much. whether it be standing real close behind you, staring at you with that sexy look on his face or just straight up choking you, tonguing you down, then walking tf away. aran lovessss to tease you.

- if he sees you getting a little too “friendly” with a guy he will make you call them while he’s fucking you. purposely hitting all of your favorite spots so a moan or two can slip just so they can know that you will always be his. he’ll also make it very known that he’s the one fucking you.

“uhh huh. ask em how his day was mama” he’d say in a breathless tone. loving the way your ass bounced off his lower stomach. “h-how was your day?” your friend wouldn’t know whether to be horrified or turned on at the situation. clearly the latter since he began to palm himself through his pants on the other end of the phone.

if they choose to stay friends with you that’s fine because aran knows that every time they see you they’ll think of him.

- sometimes will make you watch him eat you out, knowing that it always made you cum faster when you’d watch him slowly let his spit drip from his mouth to your clit.

𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑘𝑎

- sucks a massaging feet. one minute he’s rubbing and squeezing the tension from them, then the next minute he’s trying to put them in his mouth or he’s putting them in the chokehold while tickling the fuck out of them.

- do not let this man buy you a pair of sneakers. he will watch you like a hawk, just itching for you to do something wrong so he can cay something.

“mama don’t walk like thatttt. you gon crease themmm”

“baby pay attention where you walkin. could’ve been stepping in shit like five times and you wouldn’t know a thing.”

tanaka has so many different sneakers and treats them like babies so when he buys you a pair you need to treat them that way as well or it physically pains him.

- bumps his head all the timeeee. you have to watch this man around the house or the next thing you know you gon be hearing “OWW…shit that hurt!” cause he bumped his head on the corner of the kitchen island while picking something up.

𝑛𝑠𝑓𝑤

- always eats you out before and after sex. doesn’t care if you shaking and pushing his head away because your “too sensitive”, after he gets done fucking you he’s going to eat you out. whether he nut in you or not

- purposely fucks you harder when he knows people can hear. loves the embarrassed/shy face you make while getting dressed after he’s finished knocking the mario coins out of your pussy in your grandmas bathroom at your family barbecue.

- if y’all fuck after arguing he makes you repeat everything you said while you were mad while he’s pounding you into the mattress.

“say it ma. repeat what you said t’me”

“y-you not the o-only n-nigga i need shittt”

“now is that true?”

“nuh uhhhh. s’not true daddy”

“then if i hear it again ima fuck you even harder cause not only are you being disrespectful, but you lying too”

- will fuck you like the meanest nigga on earth. i’m talking slapping your ass so hard you actually seen hints of red in your skin, spitting all in your mouth, choking you while giving you light slaps on the face to keep you from passing out, then will have the audacity to go hop on the game all giddy and happy like you weren’t still on the bed trying to remember your name and who you were.

2K notes · View notes

gard3nias · 7 months ago

Text

Amor tam pulcher | KTH - masterlist

❁pairing: senior!taehyung x junior!oc

❁description: a love story revolving around a butterfly and its favourite flower

❁synopsis:

if he could, he'd write poems on how pretty she looked, on how perfect she was. He'd probably make the next Catullus or even better, he'd dare say. Everyone would love to read about her and how she makes him feel. He even wonders how she isn't loved, worshipped in fact, by everyone but he's glad he's the only one whom she hops to whenever class is dismissed, the only one to have her cheeks explore all possible shades of red, the only one whose arms she'd willingly fall asleep in between.

❁genre: romance, fluff, smut, angst

❁wc: 120.59k

❁date: 30/03/2024

❁warning: mature content, mdi

❁notes: strangers-to-lovers, teen love story, lots of fluff, smut, senior!taehyung (taehyung is like super smart), junior!oc (academic weapon, she loves herself an excellent academic performance), a lil angst, taehyung is head over heels for oc, nature lovers (oc loves flowers, taehyung loves butterflies), countryside (looks like Italy because that is the only type of countryside I know and love), oc has a lovely family, taehyung has daddy issues, jimin and jungkook are taehyung's besties( they also have other two girls as best friends); oc has a girl best friend (childhood best friend) and three boys as best friends); oc is so fucking prettyyy, like girl pretty; cross-posted on wattpad and ao3

❁chapters (status - ongoing) ⇀ updates every two Fridays, midnight

latest — 02/11

❀ ❛prologue❜ - 1.52k

Rewriting the story of Daphne and Apollo ⇀ «A love that drives me crazy, a lovely crazy, a sexy crazy, an amazing crazy»

❀ 01 ❛love is all around❜ - 4.24k

On a chilly summer morning, a bouncy curly-haired sun rose up and shone above the flower ⇀ «If only you knew how special it feels to be special to someone...»

❀ 02 ❛ying yang❜ - 4.28k

Photosynthesis: the sun shines bright above the flower providing it with energy which will be transformed into nutrients ⇀ «Always thought my match would look like me but two pieces of the same puzzle can't be equal»

❀ 03 ❛the exploratory stage❜ - 5.48k

As the sun shines in its might, it brightens the way for a little flower to see over the horizon ⇀ «This is who I am now or maybe who I always was but forgot to be»

❀ 04 ❛just like old times❜ - 6.70k

The bright rays of the sun show the way to the flower, introducing it to an innocent little bear, a ferret and a little wasp ⇀ «He's pretty. No wait! Heavenly. Gorgeous. God's favourite for sure... and mine too»

❀ 05 ❛a monarch butterfly❜ - 4.17k

There, going back home, was an unusual combination of subjects: a cricket, a wing-man, a monarch butterfly, a little pika and a puppy ⇀ «They say mental exhaustion is greater than the physical one and yet I feel dead up there and no different when it comes to my body»

❀ 06 ❛venus❜ - 4.82k

Who could have ever thought that a flower could grow in space? Who? No one surely and yet... there it was, standing upright in its beauty ⇀ «Whenever she walked in, time would slow down and my pupils would expand, all for me to sip in her majestic beauty without missing anything»

❀ 07 ❛a laurel❜ - 4.92k

He knew he wasn't meant to fly to space because he physically couldn't but this thought wouldn't stop him. Was he being pretentious? Trying to exceed his limits? ⇀ «Like you a little, don't want no riddle. Say it, say it back, oh, say it ditto. Can't wait 'til the morning, so say it, ditto»

❀ 08 ❛fuck you!❜ - 6.10k

Normally, flowers are in people's gardens or on a bed of green grass so... what the hell is one singular one doing in the middle of the ocean. Does it know, does anyone know, that too much water will cause it harm... especially when the water is salty? ⇀ «I see her in the back of my mind all the time like a fever, like I'm burning alive»

❀ 09 ❛en route❜ - 5.07k

With its six tiny feet into proper boots, a good protective shield over his wings and an astronaut helmet on, the monarch butterfly embarks on a life-threatening journey, one believed to be a one-way ticket travel ⇀ «If only he knew... if only she knew...»

❀ 10 ❛who we are, what we do❜ - 6.01k

Flowers don't have eyes, yeah, and neither does a pika glow even during the day. The flower is used to seeing only the sun shine during the day. The little pika walking by is unusual. ⇀ «They say not to believe what you see online. "The beauty you could find there is so surreal that it can't be real", they say. But what happens when it's standing just a few feet away from you, glowing like the moon on a starless night? How do you withstand it?»

❀ 11 ❛an overly ambitious hedonistic seductress❜ - 6.04k

Cleopatra is the modern definition of the term "femme fatale"; she's known for ruling in ancient Egypt but also for her relationship with Ceaser and Mark Antony ⇀ «Chiquitita, tell me the truth. I'm a shoulder you can cry on. Your best friend, I'm the one you must rely on»

❀ 12 ❛the butterfly, the cricket and the wing-man❜ - 4.49k

A butterfly, a cricket and a wing-man all have wings somewhat. The first does fly, the second mostly leaps and the last doesn't fly unless the first two do. ⇀ «Life itself has nothing to give you. Lay in your bed all day and you'll get the point. Life starts making sense and having a shape when you start doing something, when you meet the right people»

❀ 13 ❛the Titanic❜ - 7.31k

Between the night of the 14th and the 15th, in 1912, one of the biggest ships of its time sank, going against the expectations but did it? At the time, there was a little competition between countries so when it sank it wasn't so surprising: something so big with very few resources would have never made it across the ocean. ⇀ «There's a monster in the water. It clawing into the ship. I'm sinking»

❀ 14 ❛from five to ten❜ - 11.44k

Brighten the mood. Increase the energy. Make a downturned flower rise high and flunt its beautiful petals for others to see. ⇀ «'Temptare', handle, try, test»

❀ 15 ❛bold, red and underlined❜ - 14.70k

“You know? That party I wanted to host at mine? You’re so invited. In fact, you’re the first one on my guest list and I’ll underline your name in red as in ‘in great and urgent need of pussy’—” ⇀ «XOXO, Gossip Girl»

❀ 16 ❛«it's Daphne»❜ - 11.30k

A monarch butterfly sees a lot of flowers in its short span of life but never has this one, nor its ancestors, seen a flower as pretty as the one ahead. The flower was there, living beautifully in space. ⇀ «I'll be your piece, your ART»

❀ 17 ❛hesperiidae❜ - 6.41k

Right when the sun faded away and the dark clouds took over, the little butterfly's wings fluttered less as it lost hope until something caught his eye, a gleam slicing through the gloom and focusing on a flower. ⇀ «Who would have ever thought that something so little would warm me up so much? An it's just a smile at that»

❀ 18❛opposites attract❜ - 5.59k

Winter and the Wind of the West come to destroy but nothing can touch a flower when it's under a shelter, something that will prevent it from dying in the cold or losing its beautiful petals. ⇀ «He could swear he'd seen a new galaxy in her eyes, one that has never been discovered yet»

❀ 19 ❛peek-a-boo (boo boo)❜

❀ 20 ❛lifejacket❜

❀ 21 ❛monarch and blue morpho butterflies❜

❀ 22 ❛rosy cheeks❜

❀ 23 ❛caramel macchiato❜

❀ 24 ❛butterflies, flowers... and butterflies❜

❀ 25 ❛hwiparam❜

❀ 26

322 notes · View notes

fanfictilltheend · 7 months ago

Text

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

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

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

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

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

Word Count: ~13k

PART 1

AO3 Link

Violent Heart Masterlist

Full Masterlist of all my work

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel grins.

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

***

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

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

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

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

Joel’s face flattens.

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

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

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

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

Joel examines your face, looks deep into your eyes.

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

You smile to yourself.

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

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

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

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

You open your mouth, but Joel beats you.

“And that’s that,” he insists.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you truly do appreciate the sentiment.

***

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

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

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

You nod off.

***

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

Typical.

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

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

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

Sweat drenches your whole body as you come down.

God, you are so fucked.

***

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

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

And then you realize: that something is you.

You grin back.

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

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

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

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

“Thanks so much,” you tell him.

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

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

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

The butterflies in your chest howl.

***

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

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

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

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

Joel rolls his eyes.

“Show me what you’ve got.”

***

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

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

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

“Jeez,” you reply.

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

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

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

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

He backs away and you whine internally at the loss.

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

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

You look into Joel’s eyes.

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

Joel watches you intently, sitting up straighter.

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

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

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

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

You blush.

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

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

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

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

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

You sit back up straight.

“You did? I never knew that.”

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

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

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

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

“Right here.”

***

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

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

“Looking good, old-timer.”

He snorts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was that Joel flirting? With you?

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

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

***

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

“ Christ, you look beautiful, babygirl.”

***

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

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

“Joel,” Joel replies flatly, eyeing Max.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Max frowns ever so slightly.

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

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

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

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

Max’s cheeks turn a bit pink.

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

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

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

“Joel–”

“Who said I wasn’t?” Max sneers.

That makes you feel a bit better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Max never loses.

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

You know it’s over then.

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

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

You shiver and Max positively cowers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel flinches.

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

He stares at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then Joel is breaking away from you slowly.

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you,” you whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

“Me too,” you giggle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That okay?”

“Yes,” you whine. “Want more, Daddy.”

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

“Sorry…” you mumble. “I–”

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

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

He snickers.

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

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

That’s good because you’re positively drenched.

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

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

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

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

Joel looks flabbergasted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Daddy,” you whine.

“Enough, little one,” Joel whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Daddy,” you nod, snickering.

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

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

You grin, but then your face falls.

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

Max hates your hair down there.

Joel looks at you in confusion.

He laughs, his face scrunching up.

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

You shiver.

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You happily fall backward.

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

He bites your lips roughly and you groan against him.

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

“Yeah, duh, Daddy,” you snicker.

As if he even needs to say it!

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Daddy. Only yours.”

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

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

“Only Daddy.”

“Only you.”

“Good girl,” he growls.

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

“Joel,” you whine. “Oh my God.”

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

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

inside your body.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Joel does stop for a moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pauses, sweat glistening on his brow, sneering.

“You really want harder?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When your words come back you reply,

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m serious,” he snickers.

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You think about it for a second.

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

He pauses, both his words and fingerpicking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PART 1

PART 3 (coming soon)

Violent Heart Masterlist

Full Masterlist of all my work

Tags:

@toxicanonymity @motelprincess444 @epicrainbowsheep @anama-cara @sheepdogchick3

@denileisariver @lochnymph @mewantpeepaw. @fandomdaydreamer @r3dheadedwitch

@paanchusblog @prettystrangething @untamedheart81 @kotourasan123 @valkyreally

@lunpycatavenue

230 notes · View notes

crackedhrglass · 2 months ago

Text

i got this ask on my strawpage and was gonna type it up in my notes app and post it to twitter, but i really couldn't figure out a way to say it concisely, so i'm answering it here bc it's prob gonna be long lol.

do i think stancest is actually canon? simply put, no. despite how often i'm like "STANCEST IS CANON!!" i truly don't think that AH and the writers intended stan & ford's relationship to be seen through an incestuous lens.

their relationship is def the heart of the show, second only to dipper & mabel's own bond. they are the center of each other's worlds, their story & character arcs revolve almost entirely around each other, and their happy ending is literally the two of them sailing off into the sunset to spend "the rest of their days" together (ford says this almost word-for-word in journal 3).

but i still don't think all of that was meant to be taken romantically.

in my opinion, where things start to get a little weird is, surprisingly enough, ford's relationship with bill.

the rest is under a cut bc HOLY SHIT this got longer than i expected.

there's no denying that bill was written to deliberately parallel stan in a number of ways, from his mannerisms, to his conman status, to the fact that he calls ford the same name stan did when they were kids.

he's written in a very intentional way that makes him serve as both stan's parallel and his foil, especially in their respective relationships to ford (bill feeds into ford's ego and encourages him to aspire for greatness alone, stan has always been a direct obstacle & challenge to ford's ego, accidentally ruining his chances at WCT & encouraging him to live out their childhood dream together; bill valued infinite power over his own family and destroyed his dimension as a result, stan valued his family over everything, and saved ford and his dimension as a result).

normally, this wouldn't be that big of a deal to a stancest shipper like myself. but as the book of bill & the accompanying website all but confirmed in big, flashing neon lights, ford & bill have a romantic history and are exes.

having the two people closest to ford be compared to one another is one thing. having ford be drawn to bill because of how similar he is to the brother he secretly misses is one thing.

having ford be romantically involved with said character is what makes me raise an eyebrow lol.

again, do i think ford is literally a brocon who's got repressed sexual/romantic feelings for stan?

no.

i do, however, think he has unresolved Brother Issues that led him to subconsciously find comfort in a romantic partner that reminded him of stan (right down to bill calling him stan's nickname for him) in much the same way a person with "daddy issues" may seek out affection & intimacy from someone who reminds them of their father (or is just "fatherly" in general).

that much, i believe, was actually intentional. it's just too blatant to not be lol. it'd be a completely different story if either

bill & stan were nothing alike (untrue) or

ford & bill's relationship was strictly platonic and didn't have any romantic implications (also untrue)

i've said this before, but this isn't just a case of "oh, ford fell in love with someone who just coincidentally reminds him of his brother." bill's use of the nickname "sixer" during their first encounter was a deliberate attempt at appealing to a part of ford that was repressed, vulnerable, and aching, in order to get ford's guard down and make it easier for ford to trust him, and it worked.

billford is a ship that, to put it bluntly, would not exist without ford's buried feelings for stan, even disregarding shipping/incest/etc. ford's desire to be close to stan even platonically is what allowed bill to needle his way into ford's heart in the first place.

and all of this wouldn't be that weird if, again, bill hadn't continued to feed into ford's longing for stan even after they'd established a romantic relationship, by still calling him "sixer" and trying to permanently sever the relationship he had with stan specifically, once he and ford broke up (the phone call he tried to make while in ford's body that was described in tbob).

to put it another way, imagine if wendy was basically an older, taller mabel, or if any of mabel's crushes were eerily similar to dipper. people in the fandom would def take notice and view it as a little strange. so i don't get how people can look at ford dating someone so blatantly and intentionally similar to stan and think to themselves "ah yes, this is normal. ford is completely Normal and definitely doesn't have any underlying issues whatsoever" lmao

to conclude: no, i don't think ford & stan's relationship is actually canonically romantic, nor do i think ford falling in love with bill was incestuous, necessarily.

but i do think that he had a desperate longing to reconcile with stan buried DEEEEEEP down, and it manifested itself in the form of being attracted to bill, which is probably why he never bothered correcting bill's use of the nickname "sixer" since their very first meeting, or ever expressed that it made him uncomfortable.

#stancest #at the end of the day i will always ship stancest romantically and sexually in my mind lol #but no i don't think that's *ACTUALLY* what the writers were going for lbr here #they're two emotionally stunted losers who needed each other more than anything in the world and couldnt express it #not tagging the other ship bc i don't need normies sending me death threats lol #DAMN THIS WAS LONG SORRY

134 notes · View notes

ghettogirly · 6 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐎𝐗𝐈𝐂!𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐒/𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏.

-> synopsis: some toxic things he may do as the leader of the Aretas Cartel.

-> warnings: manipulation: mention of toxic relationships, mention of degradation, mention of throwing things, mention of unstable relationships, slight mention of dumbification (I do not glorify these things.)

authors note: please reblog and like if you enjoyed this! please request down below as well. This has obviously been exaggerated and fabricated for entertainment, i’ve taken his character to a more “toxic” angle. I do not agree that his character is wholly like this or WILL do this.

[🕷️] 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:

-> he would definitely not answer your texts until late at night. You could message him good morning and he would either:

respond with a dry text or not text you back until 6 hours have passed and he finally has free time.

-> i don’t think he does it to you on purpose but his life is so fast paced that he doesn’t really have time to really engage with your “useless” texts. He has much bigger things to concentrate on which is running the cartel and carrying out hits, there are plenty more girls out there who want him.

-> if you ever called him out on this, he would definitely twist it back on you and explain his lifestyle or just simply ghost you again until he’s bored or misses you.

-> he’s definitely a “you chose me knowing what i do” type of person.

-> god forbid if you ever ghost him over text though. He’s definitely popping up at your house and questioning you, initially speaking in an accusatory tone before eventually apologising (kind of), about his distant behaviour.

-> however, i don’t think he means to ghost you for as long as he does. He genuinely gets caught up in his work and is one to blow up when engaging with confrontation which is why he tends to ghost you as a way to not lose you.

-> because what would you rather want him to do? hurt your feelings in an argument? because trust me, you don’t want to argue with him.

[🕷️] 𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒:

-> 100% reactive.

-> He would go from 0 to 100 in a second depending on what you say. Ever mention his family and it’s over.

-> he was literally manipulated by his mother and has daddy issues. definitely not good if you mention them.

-> he would insult every single inch of you, degrading you to the point of where you have no self confidence left.

-> i also think, he may have a tendency to become violent if he really goes off the edge. It may be hard for him to get to that point, (you would really have to piss him off) but he may punch things or throw things while screaming at you in order to scare you.

-> this would be very common and not out of the ordinary as he has saw his own mother brutally die in front of him, violently fighting his dad also.

-> the words he would call you would be so hurtful they would make you think deep into the night when going sleep.

-> the attack on your character, you look, body shape and personality would have you questioning your whole identity and would make you succumb to his insults. Maybe causing you to change the way you act or look just to please him.

-> you’re definitely the one apologising first after an argument.

[🕷️] 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:

-> “to handle or control something in a skilful manner.”

-> after how he was emotionally manipulated by his mother, who set him up to train for his whole life, to kill a man he thought betrayed her but in actuality was his father would mess him up DIFFERENTLY.

-> he WOULD not let that happen again.

-> he would have some manipulative tendencies that would’ve stemmed from his mother where he was switch a situation back on you,

-> For Example:

-> Let’s say you saw him flirting with a girl at a party you two were both at. If you brought it up to him afterwards he would automatically flip it on you suggesting that: “You’re too insecure,” “He doesn’t have time for this”, “This conversation is pointless”, or even “Can he not live a life outside his dangerous work?”

-> You’re not winning an argument with him.

-> by the end of this relationship, your mind is definitely just focused on him. the emotional manipulation taking a toll on you to the point where he can do no wrong.

-> he would 100% love that, his woman who is just a complete supporter, doesn’t question him and he can use her for his own use? great.

-> however, he would definitely get bored of this and dump you to move onto the next. wanting more of a challenge.

-> he only wanted the self-satisfaction of manipulating you so he could forget how he was easily manipulated.

#imagines #reactions #headcanon #armando aretas #jacob scipio #badboys #badboys ride or die #hot #armando armas #mexican #cartel #fanfiction #fanfic #armando lowry #toxic relationship #fake #headcannons #armando x female oc #armando x reader

229 notes · View notes

bpcr3yes · 1 year ago

Text

Hello again, lately I've been obsessed with Valeria Garza and I decided to write some headcanons about her because I'm tired of only talking to bots 💀

VALERIA GARZA HEADCANONS (realisct maybe?) (a little subjective??? I don't know)

She is a woman with a strong personality, fearless, focused, stubborn, arrogant.

She is el sin nombré, owner of the biggest cartel in Latina America, she certainly had many women. She has a preference for chubby women, she likes to squeeze, you would probably be an anti-stress ball for her.

I have a lot of doubts about her being bisexual or lesbian (or straight if we could even add that option) but I believe she is a lesbian, a furious one at that, about her relationship with Alejandro I believe she used him (she appears to have a personality narcissistic and manipulative) she used him to get information so her plan could work.

I believe that when she was a soldier in the armed forces, she was totally confident and determined, many men were around her because she was beautiful (and hot) so she had a razor instead of a tongue I believe, she was always shouting insults or belittling men, only with her commanders she was more... well-behaved.

In the interrogation part, we see her tell Alejandro that she didn't take orders anymore, but then you can understand that he was her commander, and she was certainly angry with him.

After she became owner of the cartel, her life became extremely stressful, she doesn't trust any of her men (I think Diego was an exception) she believes if something needs to be done it's perfectly fine to have a woman do it because she thinks men they don't think.

I like to think that she has a trophy wife that she only takes to events like parties, bars and meetings. The wife's only job is to stand there being pretty and not say a single thing.

Now let's talk about this truly passionate woman of ours.

If you are in a long-term relationship (5 or 3 years) she would be completely in love with you. The type of wife who comes home and gives you a long kiss and hug, to make up for lost time.

Every month you go out to eat at a fancy restaurant and then spend the night together. (a long night I can say)

In public, like at events or on the street when you go out together, she rarely shows any type of physical touch, she prefers to remain secret. When she's in the Cartel it's totally different, she makes a point of kissing and grabbing you in front of everyone without caring, she would probably touch you sensually in front of her men but if someone is bold enough to think they can have fun together, She shoots twice. One on the head and the other on the penis.

She is a possessive woman, she would politely (not so politely) ask you to have her initials tattooed on your hip. She would also have a tattoo about you on the back of her neck.

about Family, this part is a little confusing when I create the headcanons. Most of the hcs I read said that she had mommy issues, I believe she was a daddy's girl, while her mother was narcissistic to the extreme, always belittling her for simple things.

Her mother probably had a lot of problems with medication. I also think that Valeria always had an attitude, never lowering her head to anyone. No matter the occasion.

Her family on her father's side loved her and disliked her mother, she probably had kind and caring grandparents and aunts. I like to think that she spent a lot of time with her grandmother, cooking, helping her with everything.

She must have had cousins too, she and them would turn the house upside down.

There's a part in the interrogation scene where Alejandro is saying that she ruined the army and he says "and your brother too?" It makes me think that Valeria joined the army to prove that she had the same value as her older brothers (to prove to her mother that she was capable too)

I imagine her brothers being strong, big and courageous lieutenants, she could be close to one of the two, while she didn't even make a point of saying good morning to the other.

that's it for now ♡

#valeria cod #valeria garza #valeria garza cod #valeria garza x reader #valeria mw2 #valeria x reader #cod x reader #el sin nombre #headcanons #lesbian

445 notes · View notes

echobx · 8 months ago

Text

not my type - Rafe Cameron x plus size!fem!reader

summary: you meet Rafe at a bar and he starts flirting with you. little do you know that he's also the reason you are in the obx at all because you are taking care of a business deal for your dad

warnings: swearing, smut (p in v (protected), face sitting, dirty talk)

word count: 3k

author's note: for my wifey @notdxbya <3 also, I'm aware that Rafe is a little ooc here, that's because I pictured him after Ward is dead, and he has gotten clean and is healthy and taking care of business. that's all. this is my first time actually writing Rafe and I'm lowkey scared lol

masterlist

You are sitting at a bar and the guy a few seats over keeps looking at you. Usually when guys looked at you, they did it with a kind of disgust, but he looked more intrigued than anything. “What's your issue, asshat,” you scoff without looking at him, downing your drink. “Nothing, just looking,” he shrugs his shoulders, a smirk playing on his pink lips. “You're not my type,” you say, eyeing him carefully. The short light blonde hair, muscles covered by a flimsy linen button down, gold rings bejeweling his long fingers. “Shame. You aren't mine either,” he replies, but he licks his lips; his eyes darting down to your cleavage. Boobs pressed together in a red corset. “That why you keep looking?” you laugh and gesture at the bartender to get you another drink.

“Where are you from?” the guy asks while getting up and walking over to you, taking the seat next to yours. He’s tall, taller than any guy you'd ever been with. “Not from here,” you smile cheekily and take a sip from your drink. “I figured,” he laughs, and it sounds genuine. “I'm Rafe, by the way.” “Y/n,” you reply, taking his hand that he's holding out for you to shake. “So, what are you doing here?” he asks. “I don't know if I should share such information with a stranger,” you whisper. “Stranger? We're on a first name basis already, sugar.” “Sugar?” you lift an eyebrow, and he rubs his jaw, maybe to show defeat, but you're not sure. “Guess, I'm too cocky for you.” “No, I like it when guys know what they want. But as we've already established, we're not each other's type,” you remind him.

“And what is your type?” he asks, leaning against the bar and looking at you through his blue eyes. “I'm not into blonde guys,” you say and take another drink. “I know why I'm not your type, not even hard to figure that one out. It's always the same with guys like you.” “Guys like me?” He seems offended by your assumption, but you elaborate anyway. “Guys who live off daddy's money, who spent their whole days golfing or fucking; preferably a different skinny bitch every single day. Guys who think they are the epitome of humanity,” you say, not really paying as much attention to his wonder struck face as you should. “Guys like you would never go out with a girl like me, because social standards are the only thing you ever believed in.” “Interesting. Are you always this shallow or do I have to go dye my hair?” he jokes. “I speak from experience,” you look at him, and he purses his lips for a moment before emptying his glass. “Just a year earlier and you might've been spot on there, sugar.” “I'm rarely wrong,” you whisper. “What changed?” “My dad died.” “My condolences.” “It's okay, I'm over it by now,” he shakes his head lightly. “I see,” you look away and let the uncomfortable silence settle between the two of you.

“Are you gonna tell me where you're from?” he asks. “You can guess. Got a free pass on it after my half right assumptions,” you smile, and he reciprocates it, adding a little huff. “All right. You're on vacation, no boyfriend, and you're just looking for a little fun.” You laugh loudly. “You just described literally every girl in this bar. Try a little harder, darling.” “Okay, fine. You're from the city. You know what you want and are not afraid to take it.” “Warmer, but still not there,” you wink at him. “Okay, help me out here, sugar,” he sighs defeated. “Just give me one weirdly specific one, doesn't have to be correct, just try it,” you search his eyes for a second before looking away again. “You made a completely wrong assumption about a stranger based on your insecurities.” His words hit you hard and raw, but you didn't let it show. “Enlighten me, then,” you challenge him, and he leans in to whisper in your ear. “You don't think I think you're hot, when the opposite is the case.” Your heart starts pounding in your chest, and you feel the all too familiar heat rise in your cheeks and stomach. Clearing your throat, you down your drink, immediately asking for another one. “Didn't expect that one, did’ya,” he taunts. “Shame that you're not my type,” you flip your hair to the side, running your fingertips over the edge of the glass in front of you. “I could change your mind on that,” he suggests. “I'm not keeping you from trying,” you chuckle, and the next few hours are spent with shameless flirting and drinking.

The next day you get yourself ready for a meeting. You are supposed to meet with some rich asshole and work out a deal that will benefit both his and your dad's company. You get to the meeting early, making sure that your suit fits and checking your makeup in the restroom before letting the receptionist lead you to the conference room. “Mr. Cameron will be with you in a bit,” she tells you, eyeing you wearily before stepping away. You set up your laptop and the paperwork, but the man is late, something you have always hated. You walk to look out the window and onto the sea when you hear the door open and someone walks in. “Thank you for taking some time and waiting for me, there was an incident in the office that I needed to take care of,” he says and sits down without looking at you and not seeing the shocked expression on your face. Rafe looks even hotter in the suit than he had the night before, and you hate that you even think of him like that. “No problem,” you smile and walk behind him to your seat when his head perks up. “You-” the words seem to be stuck in his throat. “I'm supposed to take care of this deal since my father has an important appointment in New York that came in just yesterday,” you explain. “I see. We should get to it then,” he nods and after three hours of extensive discussion you have finally come to a mutual agreement that you know will be to your father's liking.

“Why didn't you mention any of this last night?” he asks. “If I had known your last name, I would've. But also, you should update your website. I was prepared to meet with someone else, your dead father, I presume.” “Yes, I should,” he mumbles. “Good,” you nod and pack your things together, wanting to leave and get back home as quickly as possible. “Do you like dinner?” he blurts out just as you are about to step out of the room. “Who doesn't?” you smirk. “Would you go out with me?” Rafe asks more directly, and you bite your cheek before nodding. “Good, I'll pick you up later. You're staying at the Country Club, right?” he asks and you nod again. “Perfect. 8pm, I won't be late,” he smiles, and you laugh a little while stepping out and walking.

The evening came quicker than you expected, and you found yourself sitting opposite Rafe at a fancy restaurant. “Are you always trying this hard for a hookup?” you ask bluntly, and he nearly chokes on his steak. “Excuse me?” “You heard me pretty well,” you say and take a bite of your food. “I usually don't, no,” he finally answers, nipping on his wine. “You're very direct.” “That something bad?” you cock an eyebrow and he shakes his head. “No. It's nice, like a fresh breath even. Dating is rather boring when you've lived in the same spot your whole life.” “Never had any issues with it to be honest, at least when it comes to the diversity of it.” “Hardly comparable, New York and Kildare,” he notes. “So, this is a date?” you question, and he smiles to hide the light blush that creeps on his cheeks. “Would your dad be okay with you dating a business partner?” “My dad isn't here, and we don't know if this is a date yet,” you counter, and he puts his hands up in defense. “I'm not about to ruin a good deal is all I'm saying.” “Well, you're still not my type, so it's probably better anyway.” “Right,” he mumbles and gets back to eating.

After some time you find back to a more easy-going manner, just like you had the night before. But the more he flirts with you, the less you can remember why you had initially not had any interest in him.

“I just have one question,” you say as you stand next to him in the elevator that leads you down to the garage where he had parked. “And?” “Have you ever even been with anyone like me?” you eye him wearily as he's towering next to you. “No, but there's always a first time round, right?” In a split second decision you pull him down by his collar and kiss him. His lips are soft and warm and his tongue is dancing with your own, his hands are grabbing your ass harshly. You would continue to make out with him if the elevator doors didn't open to let in a few more people. It was unnecessary to pretend like nothing had happened because he has your lipstick all over his face, and you put your hand in front of your mouth to hide your wide grin.

Rafe drives like a maniac, but you don't mind it while his hand is holding onto your thigh, squeezing harshly. “I don't think that's the right way,” you tell him, but he just smiles at you and keeps driving without saying anything. You come up to a mansion, and he parks out front and helps you out, like a true gentleman. “That your place?” you ask and he nods. “Thought you might want a little more privacy,” he says and leads you inside.

The marble floors are pretty but nothing compared to the ones in your apartment on the Upper East Side. “Cute,” you note. “Wanna show me around a little?” You are aware that he wants nothing more than to just drag you upstairs, but you like how desperate he looks, and you'd like to keep looking at it even if just for a few more minutes. “Uh, sure,” he sighs and leads you around, showing you the kitchen and living room before going upstairs. “That's the office and over there's the-” “Bedroom?” you interrupt him and he smirks. “Yes, unless you'd rather see the whole estate and the boats and-” You cut him off with a kiss, feeling him smile against your lips.

The two of you stumble backwards into the room, helping him take off his shirt before pushing him onto the bed. “I don't like selfish assholes,” you state firmly, slowly opening the buttons of your blouse. “Understood.” He props himself up on his elbows and admires you as you strip for him, leaving nothing but your lingerie on your body. “You still think you can handle this?” You straddle him in his seat and he gulps but nods. His hands rub over your body, over every single curve that you had once been insecure about. “God you're hot,” he hums and starts kissing your tits, sucking on the nipple while his hand is kneading the other. You start rutting against him, his dick twitching under you.

“Can I sit on your face, darling?” you ask a little unsure about his answer but the enthusiastic yes he gives you makes you even more aroused than you already were. You stand, and he pulls your slip down, starting to kiss your stomach and thighs. “Take your pants off, please,” you order and he does it before lying down.

You climb on top, and he harshly pulls you up to his face. Your weight rests on your thighs next to his head as you hover over him. “I’m not going to sit down completely if you don't want that. I'm not gonna be responsible for your death, darling.” “I'm gonna be all right, sugar,” he smirks and starts kissing your wet cunt. “God, you're wet for me, baby,” he moans desperately and pulls you down, thrusting his tongue into you and eating you out as if his life was dependent on it. With every lap of his tongue your orgasm grew closer, and you fell forward against the headboard, holding yourself up with your arms as you moaned and gasped. He sucks your clit into his mouth, making you scream with pleasure, and instinctively grind your pussy over his face as soon as he lets go again. He grabs your ass, practically forcing you to roll your hips into him and making his nose repeatedly nudge against your clit until you come undone on top of him. He keeps on eating you out until he has licked every last bit of your release from your sensitive cunt.

“Yeah, you're definitely not into blonde guys,” he laughs as you lie next to him, heavily panting. “Definitely.” You watch him grab a condom from the nightstand and a few moments later he's balls deep inside of you, filling you out like no one ever had.

“Jesus, fuck, you feel so good, sugar,” Rafe praises you. “Don't you fucking dare,” you moan as he hits your cervix, making you squirm under him. “Shit, you want me to be mean to you? I can do that,” he laughs and pulls out again, manhandling you onto your stomach and pulling your ass in the air. “That's the best ass in the fucking world, sugar,” he moans while pushing into you again. “Fuck, Rafe,” you scream because his thrusts hit even deeper in this position and his balls keep slapping against your clit. “You wanna act like a bitch, you gotta be able to take it,” he grunts, slapping your ass and making you whine. “More,” you beg, and he leans down to bite your waist. “Won't be able to wear anything revealing unless you want everyone to know how much of a slut you are being for me,” he growls and wraps your hair around his hand in a makeshift ponytail to pull your back flush to his chest. “What would your daddy say if he knew how we finalized his deal? If he knew that the only reason I went easy was because I wanted to rail his darling daughter. If he knew that I got to defile you.”

“Rafe,” you have tears in your eyes, but he’s nowhere close to stopping, and you really don't want him to ever stop. You love how full of him you feel. Rafe takes his hand and starts playing with your tits while the other comes down to rub your clit. “You wanna cum on my dick, sugar? Wanna make daddy proud?” You whine in response, and he stops touching you, pushing you back down and lying down on top of you. His thrusts are relentless and harsh while your make-up runs down your face. “Such a good slut for me. Might just keep you here as my personal sex slave. Would you like that, sugar?” His hot breath is on your ear, and you cry out as he goes to slap your thigh. “Answer me.” “Yes, Rafe. Am your slut. Only yours.” “Wasn't that hard, was it,” he groans and sits back up, pulling your ass back up with him.

He's still not stopping, and you don't know where he got that much stamina from because every time you try to crawl away from his dick he keeps pulling you back. "Tststs, don't you dare,” he admonishes and slaps you harsher each time. You're so close to cumming, but he won't let you, no matter how much you whine and beg. “I know you can take it. I'm not gonna let you cum until I'm done with you. A deal's a deal,” he laughs and fucks you even faster.

Your throat has gone sore from all the screaming and moaning when he finally starts playing with your clit again. “C’mon now, baby. Let go for me,” he hums and kisses your back softly and the band inside you snaps. You can't remember ever having had an orgasm like the one he had just given you and as soon as it was over you craved more. “God, you're tight, sugar,” Rafe groans, his hips stutter as he tried to keep fucking you through it but the grip your pussy has on him is too much, and he lets go too. His head falling to your back while he groans and cums.

“Solid 8.5,” you say just to tease him once he's lying next to you, the sheets pulled over his sweaty body. “Guess I'll have to try even better next time,” he smirks. “I'm not gonna be your sex slave, just to be clear on that.” “Shit, and I've already let the help prepare the dungeon,” he fakes a gasp. “Stop making me like you,” you laugh, and he looks at you, almost dreamy. “What?” you ask slowly, furrowing your brows. “Nothing, just- No, nothing at all,” he shakes his head. “Okay, weirdo,” you roll your eyes and go to stand up. searching for your slip and putting it back on. “What are you doing?” Rafe asks, watching you meticulously; how you pull your skirt up and tug your blouse into it after buttoning it up. You run your hand through your hair while pulling your heels back on. “I'm leaving. Have to catch my flight tomorrow morning and my shit is still at the hotel,” you remind him. “So, that's it? One night to remember?” “Yeah, wasn't that the plan all along?” you laugh, and he mirrors it slightly uncomfortable. “Yeah. Definitely.” “Besides, I'm responsible for this deal, and I'm not gonna let it go to shits, not even for a good fuck.” “A real businesswoman,” he mumbles. “Maybe you find your way to New York one day,” you smile at him before stepping out of the door, just to lean back and look back at him. “Oh, and you’re still not my type.”

taglist: @ijustwantttoread @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @drwstarkeyy

part 2

#rafe cameron #obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #obx fanfiction #~fanfiction #smut #my writing #~not my type

254 notes · View notes