#salt and pepper hair for the win

[mrgriffiths]

⚠️𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒑 𝑮𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝑩𝒂𝒅⚠️

And with that, the first weekend of 2024 is here!

Thomas Ian Griffith as Cash in Black Friday (The kidnapping) circa 2007

It's been a while since I posted Cash and after those wonderful pieces of writing that I've seen, I felt inspired to make this edit.

Find me on X (Twitter) and Instagram!

[scar-letter]

Joel is honestly my kink...and I refuse to be ashamed.

HBO stills

[billthedrake]

CAMP DADDY

"You got this, Carter," I heard from behind me. It was Dave, the guy at the camp I'd bonded with the most.

I wasn't sure I had it. Over the last week we'd done a lot of challenging stuff... long hikes, swimming races, rock climbing, you name it. But the spelunking was freaking me out a little, between the darkness and the tight spaces. I didn't realize I had claustrophobia, but I guess I did. I was hyperventilating.

"Come on, relax, bro," my buddy said. "One inch at a time. I'm right behind ya, man."

I pushed through. And once I cleared into a bigger part of the cave, I saw more headlamps ahead. I unclenched my held breath.

***

I'd been a real fuck up of a teenager. That's why I was here at this Outward Bound camp. Strike one was shoplifting and getting caught for it. Strike two was yelling at my dad and calling him a piece of shit, on his birthday no less. Strike three was the ketamine use. The next weekend Dad was shipping me off to this godforsaken place in the woods upstate. He wasn't going to pay for baseball, college, or my car if I didn't go. So I did.

The first couple of days I gave a bunch of lip to the counselors. I couldn't stand their fake-cheery demeanor or their 12-step BS. "Stay strong," we had to say at the end of each "huddle" meeting. Like it was fucking church.

But I was smart, smart enough how to play this. I knew I should just lay low, go along with it enough. It was just three weeks.

It helped that I bonded with Dave the first day. He was another baseball jock and cynical too. We made fun of the Sunday School teacher vibe of the lead counselor Mr. Connell. Only at Outward bound we were supposed to call the counselors by first name.

Dave had been there a week. "At least all the physical stuff is good exercise," he said. "I'm actually getting in really great shape for next season."

It was true. There was a gym, too, in the common room of the main cabin basement. Kind of a basic barbells and benches kind of gym but a lot of us jocks would work out together, until I got annoyed by them too. Other than Dave, they all bought into the 12 step crap.

I started talking to Pete, a punk guy with a shaved head and a permanent snarl on his face. He was cool. He wasn't just cynical, he'd talk back to the counselors. But one day he was just gone. No Pete.

***

Maybe unconsciously I was trying to get Pete's fate. Get out of this fucking place. I thought three weeks would go fast, but a week and a half had drained me. I mouthed off to Mr. Connell. Sorry, to "Mike." He smiled in that fakey way and tried to be zen about it. But I was getting to him. After dinner I sulked on my own. I'd started to realize Dave was in on it. Playing normal to get my confidence and win me over to the Program.

I was wallowing in self-pity sure, because I knew I was crushed out on Dave. I'd hidden the gay thing pretty well my last few years, but now I didn't have booze or pot or drugs to push my feelings down. Maybe that's why I was acting out, I don't know. My body was just a mess of hormones and my brain a bunch of conflicted thoughts.

***

I woke up in a room that was identical to the two-bed cabin I'd been sleeping in with another guy Zach. Only it wasn't the same room and there was no Zach. On the other full bed a man sat reading a book, kind of a big beefy-but trim older man, dressed in joggers and a zip-up athletic top that clung to his thick muscle. I thought it was a sex dream, but the second I realized it was real I jolted awake, sitting up straight in my small bed.

"Wait, who are you?" I blurted out. This man wasn't one of the counselors. He was older, with salt-and-pepper hair trimmed short. Probably in his early 50s.

Patiently the man set down his book. He didn't have that fakey-nice look but was on the sterner side of normal. "You can call me Daddy," he said. He had a smooth tenor voice.

This was weirder than a dream. "What the fuck?!" I yelled. "I'm not fucking calling you Daddy. Where's Zach? Where are the other guys?"

He shrugged. "You didn't like the other guys," Daddy explained. "We had to change plans."

I was freaking out now. More than in that dark cave. I jolted up and ran to the door. This cabin wasn't in a big compound but was attached to a single small room with a window overlooking the mountains. I looked back on the bed. The man was surprisingly calm, like he expected my reaction, or worse. That was one thing that made me try to check my emotion, to use my head. I knew how these fuckers worked.

"This is kidnapping," I said. I was realizing I must have been drugged to be moved entirely to this new place.

Daddy shook his head. "Fraid not. And we suggested to your father that we extend your stay here to two months. He agreed it's needed. We'll add more if takes all summer.

I broke down. Tears welled up in my eyes. I wasn't going to let this asshole see me cry, and yet I already was. Defeated, I sat on the bed facing away from him.

"It's OK," he said, with terse reassurance. "It's tough here. I'll make breakfast for when you're ready."

***

I gave him the silent treatment. Unlike the Outward Bound counselors he didn't try to make me talk. Maybe he was giving me the silent treatment too, maybe he realized a one-way conversation was useless.

I got dressed and while Daddy was showering up, I stepped out of the small cabin. There was a trail, and it had to lead somewhere. I took one look back into the cabin, then took off.

Fortunately the trail split a few times so if Daddy followed me he'd have a hard time catching up. I don't know why I hadn't thought of escaping before.

I got lost. Real fucking lost. The deeper into the woods I got, the less sense I had of where to go. The day went on. I got hungry. I kept walking. I expected to hear a highway or cars or people or some sign of civilization. Nothing.

I was freaking out. I stopped and sat on a tree trunk. Crying. There was no Dave urging me on. No "stay strong" mantra. No other guys. It was just me, fucking up again. My stomach rumbled, and I felt thirsty. It was getting dusk. I couldn't believe I'd have to sleep out here, but my big fear was wondering if I'd ever get back.

I heard rustling on the trail. Then saw a flashlight and the dark imposing figure of a 6'4" man coming my way. It was Daddy.

"Here," he said, offering me a sandwich and water. "Have this, then we'll head back."

I was too grateful and relieved to mouth off. But on our walk back I had a realization. "You knew I was here," I said.

"Yes," Daddy replied. They probably had a tracking chip in my clothes somehow.

"And you made me wait here alone."

"Yes," he admitted. "You had to learn the hard way, Carter." There was an undercurrent of empathy to his voice.

***

It took me a couple of days, but I opened up. And once I started talking, you couldn't shut me up, it felt like. I talked about my problems, and Daddy listened. It was like a therapy session and a buddy conversation, from breakfast till night.

Daddy was the first man I told I was gay. We were sitting on the Adirondack chairs outside, enjoying the view of the mountains and the sunset and I just went there. I confessed my problems dating girls and the times I got erection problems during sex.

"I told them I was drunk, but I wasn't," I said.

"I'd have done the same," Daddy said in his mellow voice.

That caught me off guard. I tried to read him, but he was still an enigma to me. A flash of me wondered if he was into men. The dude was jacked for his age, and I got a flash of excitement imagining him having sex.

Daddy was counselor, captor, friend, and father figure rolled into one. "What's your deal, man?" I asked. Not hostile like before, but probing. "Here I am spilling my guts out and I don't even know your name."

He smiled but just kept his even manner. "You don't need to know name, just Da..."

"I know," I interrupted. "You're 'Daddy.'"

Something about my exasperated tone made him smile. And maybe relent. "I did Outward Bound when I was your age. I acted out, got into trouble," he explained. "The Program set me straight."

"Was the program as unconventional when you did it?" I gestured around to the isolated cabin where I was more or less hostage.

That got a grin. "More so."

I was curious. "Did you have a Daddy?"

He nodded. "I did." He took a sip from the can of soda. "Later he taught me how to be a Daddy."

I still didn't get whatever psychoanalytic babble the Program was tapping into, but Daddy's words did make me think.

"You know what makes me, mad?" I asked.

"What?"

"This shit's probably working."

That got a chuckle. "You'll be glad when it's over Carter."

It was dark now and it felt darker out here in the middle of nowhere. "You ready for bed, kiddo?"

It was the first time Daddy used that nickname. But I replied I was.

We'd talked so much we were pretty quiet now as we went inside and got ready for bed. Normally Daddy slept in a T-shirt and shorts but that evening he peeled off his shirt. In the lamplight I could admire the powerful chest muscle and ripped abs. Best of all that DILF body was covered in a trimmed coat of salt-and-pepper fur. Before Daddy I didn't realize I was into older men. Now, I had to check my gaze.

"It's ok to look, buddy," the man said. His voice was as soft and encouraging as I'd ever heard it.

"What?" I replied in a checked grunt.

He tossed the shirt aside and turned to face me directly. He was a masculine god, even more alluring for his quiet nature. "It's OK to look," he repeated. "That's what Daddies are for."

The words were fucked up but they gave me a boner, instantly. I couldn't help it.

Daddy saw and was unfazed, peeling down his joggers to show off his soft genitals. That cock was meaty and matched the low-hanging full nuts in their shaved-smooth sac. It wasn't the first cock I'd seen of course, but it was the first live one I'd seen in a sort of sexual situation.

He walked over and pulled down the bed sheets. Daddy's backside was just as magnificent as his front. Strong back and a meaty round ass, the kind I didn't know 50-something men had. But Daddy had one.

My body was shaking, nervously, but the man was acting normal, getting into bed and pulling up the sheet to his abdomen. He gave one more look over.

"If you want to join me Carter, that's your move."

I didn't know if this was some Outward Bound trap or mindgame. A part of me didn't care, I was so horny. It's as if my brain couldn't stop my body from slipping out of my bed and crossing over. The one thing that gave me courage was seeing Daddy scoot his bed to the side to give me room to get in as he lifted the sheet a little. I could see a flash of his erection, even, thick and meaty like him.

"Stay strong, kiddo," he said softly and I nodded, getting into the bed to join him, my body shaking.

"There," he grinned as I finally settled into a lying position next to him. I could feel the heat of his body even if I was afraid to touch him still.

"You're first time with a man?" Daddy asked.

"Yes, Daddy." It was the first time I called him that. It made him smile, which made me glad.

His fingers touched my flank. I was still wearing my shorts but was shirtless and the skin contact felt incredible. This wasn't faking it with a girl.

"You're a very handsome young man, Carter," Daddy said in that soft tenor voice of his. "I'm honored to be your Daddy."

With that the mean leaned in and placed his lips against mine. It was my first kiss with a man, and nothing prepared me for it. A tingle went up my body and my prick surged even harder in my shorts. Particularly when Daddy's tongue pressed forward between my lips and into my mouth.

I was following his lead. Daddy was my coach at that moment. Coach in life and Coach in sex. I couldn't have dreamed of a better one. It was intense and sexual and passionate, but we also took our time.

As we got into it, I got the courage to feel him. His hairy, muscular, warm body. I reached down and touched his cock, hard and alive in my grip. My first dick, and one I'd never forget.

The way I moaned made Daddy pull back from the kiss.

"You like that, buddy?" he grinned.

"Yes, sir," I hissed.

"You like dick," he said with assured ease. "Don't let anyone make you think you're a lesser man because of it."

"No, Daddy," I replied, gripping his boner one last time before relinquishing it. I had to feel up the rest of him, too. More.

He slipped my shorts down, at least from one side till I decided to help him out. My dick was sap-wet and as rigid as I had ever remembered it being.

"You're not the only one," he said. "Not the only young man into dick. Your buddy Dave..." he started.

That jolted me in surprise. "For real?"

Daddy nodded. His hand now circled around my crotch before his fingers grazed my boner. "For real."

I don't know if it was jealousy or something else I was feeling. "You do stuff with him?" I asked.

The man shook his head. "No. He has a different Daddy," he explained, pausing before deciding his could share the information. "Connell."

Well, fuck me, I thought. The last thing I would expect.

Now Daddy's lips were on my neck, kissing me as his hand alternated between massaging my smoother body and stroking my cock. "You up for the full ride tonight, Carter?" he asked.

If he'd asked me that even an hour before, I would have chickened out. But the body contact and the sexual intimacy made me want it all.

"Yeah, Daddy, I do," I answered. "Stay strong, right?"

That got a laugh. He leaned up. I'd never seen him look so hot, so handsome. "Yeah, kiddo... that's right. Stay strong." He leaned in for another kiss, softer this time. It felt right. Righter than right.

Then he started working his way down, kissing my chest and abs, feeling me up some, telling me he was going to take his time.

I got my dick sucked for the first time. I got my balls licked. Then Daddy urged me to pull back my legs and proceeded to give me my first rim job.

I decided then and there that two months here wasn't going to be enough. I hoped my Dad would keep me here the whole damn summer.

"Oh fuck!" I hissed. It was stimulating and naughty and tickling at the same time. I loved getting eaten out. I didn't have anyone to compare it to, but Daddy was a pro. Eager, intense yet also working in some finesse to keep it intersting.

I slowly relaxed my hole. My whole body was relaxed, in fact, lying back into the bed, looking up at the ceiling as I kept my legs pulled back for Daddy.

The first finger entry caught me by surprise. I looked down to see Daddy's brown eyes fixed on me, as he worked his finger in and out.

"Stay strong, buddy," he urged softly.

"Fuck yeah, Daddy," I replied. Trying to be his good soldier. Daddy was gonna make me a man that night, and I wanted to be all man for him.

He finally pulled back and reached over. I didn't even notice the little jar there before, but Daddy unscrewed the lid and dug in. There was some liquidy grease that coated his fingers.

And now my asshole. Damn, it made his two fingers feel incredible going in. And out. And in again.

"Yeah, you're hungry, kiddo."

I grunted. Those fingers were feeling intense in a great way, but short circuiting my thought. I flashed to think of Dave, imagining Mike Connell doing this to him.

A third finger now breached my relaxed ring. It gave a few gentle prods then pulled out.

"You're ready."

The man scooted in place, his hard dick standing straight up from his hairy crotch that was still darker brown than his chest hair. I had felt but not gotten a real good look at his cock, but Daddy was real thick and maybe 6.5 inches in length. The guy was horned up, too, judging by how rigid his meat was. He slathered some of that grease on his boner and pushed it down to line himself up.

"The entry might be tough," he warned. "Or not."

"You better not say, 'Stay strong,'" I joked.

That got a laugh out of the man. "You're all man, Carter," he said.

And like that his cock was breaching my hole.

"Unnfg!" I let out, before I caught myself. The sting surprised me. It didn't hurt too bad, but the unfamiliarity of it freaked me out some.

Daddy's hands rand along my abs, gently, coaxing me silently to relax. I tried, until I was successful. More dick slid into me. The man was patient, but I could tell he was really turned on.

I was getting my cherry taken away, and I was thrilled, particularly when Daddy's cock bored deeper. Weirdly, the deeper the man went the better it felt. Daddy felt bigger than 6.5 inches. Maybe I'd underestimated his size, maybe it was just the psychological effect of having him buried inside me.

"Fuck yeah, kiddo," Daddy growled. "Take it."

I looked up at him. The man was a stud who knew what he was doing. "You done this before?" I asked. "Taken a guy's virginity?"

The question caught him off guard. It was almost like he didn't want to answer me. But he looked down with those soulful brown eyes and replied, "I have, Carter. Many times." He pulled his hips back and thrust in. THAT felt fricking amazing and I held onto his meaty arms. Then again. "But I care about each and every one," he added. His thrusts got faster, as Daddy intuited I was receptive. "I care about you, kiddo."

Daddy was taking me there. Physically and psychologically, he was showing me how amazing getting fucked could be. The man wasn't rough, but he pumped faster and harder. He was teaching me I loved it that way. I held on and looked up at him and felt my prick quiver.

"Fuck me, Daddy!" I hissed.

"Yeah, kiddo. Daddy's got ya." His body seemed in control but his breath was ragged and heavy. The man was turned on like hell.

That thick cock seemed a blur inside me now, its way in my tunnel greased up and the heavy hard rod punching some spot inside me.

I dind't realize I was so close to cumming until Daddy's greased fist wrapped around my bone. Not even needing to stroke it, just touching me made me fire off. I saw white, and my body felt hot and tense, then it all got released with a series of cum shots firing out of my young jock body.

I tried to keep my vision, to look up at Daddy in gratitude. To watch his own O face take over form the calm, collected surety of his experience. That got tossed out the window when Daddy came. He was as lost in pleasure as me. That made me happy.

We crashed together. Holding onto one another's hot sweaty bodies, them our lips meeting to kiss again.

"Oh buddy," he hissed finally. Like I was the one who'd done him a favor. Maybe I had.

We didn't talk after, we didn't need to. Instead, Daddy held me in a spoon position and we drifted off to sleep. At least for a few hours before we had sex again.

***

The next week, Daddy had me pack my backpack, and he led me back to main compound. I would have been sad our alone time was over, but I knew it wasn't going to be our last. Daddy didn't have to tell me. I just knew he'd be in my life from now on and me in his.

Punk dude Pete was back. His hair had grown out and was in a military buzz and his snarl was gone. Dave though was the one who welcomed me first with a bro hug. The other guys followed suit.

I wondered how many of them had a Daddy.

***

I was part of the Program now. Welcoming the newcomers. Bonding with the cynical ones. I'd been where they were and knew what they were going through. I'd been a fuck up, too.

Two months went by quickly. My Dad was there to pick me up. He had an apprehensive look on his face. Connell told me that Dad had been updated on my progress, but after what my father had been through maybe he was nervous I'd not been truly changed.

I had my mobile phone back, and I'd already looked at the last messages multiple times. "Stay strong, kiddo - Daddy." Then "You better stay in touch. Love ya, Carter."

I took one last look and tucked my phone into my pocket before running over to give my Dad a big hug.

"Damn, Sport."

Dad hadn't called me Sport in ages.

"Thank you, Dad," I said. There would be more to say later. But the look on his face was a huge reward. His fingers grazed behind my ear as he held my head steady and looked into my eyes. Like he was reunited with a son he'd lost for real.

"OK if we break up the journey home?" he asked, snapping out of his spell and grabbing my bag from me. "It's a long drive."

"Of course," I said.

We got settled into the front seat and Dad started the car. We made some small talk, and Dad caught me up on life back home. Though I didn't miss much, other than maybe Dad re-treating the wood on the back deck.

We were winding down the mountain and re-entering civilization. At least if these small, one-traffic-light towns counted as civilization.

Dad shifted from the small talk. "So... you survived OK, Son?"

I nodded. "More than survived, Dad. Thrived." I had bought into the whole Program now.

He seemed pleased. "I, um... heard from an old Army buddy of mine," he said. Something in his tone seemed laden with meaning. "He said he got to know you real well."

I blushed. I knew damn well my father was talking about Daddy.

"Yes, sir. We got real tight."

Dad had a good idea of what I meant. He gave a gentle nod and glanced over at me. "I'm glad to hear."

I was chubbing up in my jeans now thinking about Daddy. "OK if I go visit him sometime, Dad?" I asked.

Dad's voice got quiet. "That can probably be arranged."

I thought maybe I freaked my dad out. But we were quiet for a lot of that drive. It had been around 3PM when I'd checked out of the Compound, and it was getting dinner time.

I loved diner food and after two months of Outward Bound meals, I was ready for a real restaurant meal. I scarfed down my food, which amused Dad. "Looks like they haven't been feeding you, Sport," he said.

"They definitely don't believe in creature comforts," I said. I pulled out my phone. "This might have been the hardest thing to live without." I mostly was checking to see if Daddy sent me another message.

Dad laughed. Then he got serious. "So... no hard feelings, Carter?"

I sighed. "God, Dad. After what I did to you? What I put your through? I don't know how to make it up to you."

"You don't have to make anything up to me, Son. Just stay on the straight and narrow. At least till you find yourself."

I took that in. "I'm finding myself, Dad. For real."

"That's all a father can ask," he said.

Dad was normally not great at expressing emotion, and already he was itching to get the check and pay for the meal.

We drove a little bit more. Dad had me find an available hotel that wasn't too expensive. I don't think I realized until we checked in how long of a day it had been. Emotionally as much as anything.

I decided not to check my phone again. Daddy and I would find a groove to correspond and to meet again. I trusted him.

After I brushed my teeth, Dad was in one of the beds, watching TV on low volume. He wasn't build quite as strong as Daddy but his upper body was solid, and he had the same soft furry chest. As I stripped down to my briefs, Dad's eyes watched me furtively. Probing me with soft expectation.

I took the initiative this time. Just feeling Dad's eyes on my half-naked body was all the signal I needed. Pausing at my own bed, I turned back to him. "Ok if I join you instead?" I asked.

Dad was too scared to reply. But he nodded and slid over.

Only when I got into bed with him did I realize that Dad's bod was more solid than I initially thought. His clothes always hid the hard tone of his muscle and he had some love handles that stopped shy of a beer belly.

Our kiss was soft and taboo as fuck. Dad's hands clung to my body, like eagle talons. I pushed my tongue into my father's mouth and felt him plunge his back. Dad didn't kiss like Daddy did. It was hard and needy.

Just as impetuously he and I stripped down our underwear. Our dicks were a lot alike. Longer, regular thickness, with a gentle curve to the right, heaving leaking. Like twins. Dad looked down at mine, like I did at his.

"You're all grown up, Carter."

"Yeah, Dad." I reached down and touched his cock. My dad's cock. He wasn't Daddy, he wasn't my first man, but the forbidden aspect made it off the charts. "I gotta learn to be your son again, though."

Dad gulped. His eyes grew misty wet. "You never stopped, sport. Not even this last year."

We kissed. Dad was responding to my soft approach, like I'd responded to Daddy's. My hand ran along his strong chest and his softer middle as we made out. I felt every bit of guilt for how I'd treated Dad and it was coming out in the only way I knew. Like Dad, I wasn't good at expressing emotion.

But I was good at this.

I broke off the kiss with a playful smile. Dad seemed to be trying to read what I was thinking. I let him wonder a minute longer.

I scooted down, kind of kneeling on the bed, till I was face to face with the dick that made me. I touched it again, feeling its poker hot heat and its steel rigidity. I could smell his masculine scent.

"Sport..." he urged, as if telling me something.

His next words caught in his throat as I took his dick into my mouth. I paused a second. Daddy had instructed me in this, but my father's cock felt particularly dry until I summoned up some extra saliva. Then I went down on him, slowly, teasingly.

I was going to make things up to Dad in the way I knew how.

He placed his hand on my head, softly cradling it as I lovingly blew him to completion.

***

The next morning when Dad was in the shower I sent a text.

"Daddy, you didn't tell me you knew my father."

He was up and the reply was quick. "You had to find out for yourself." Then, "I hope you can be a junior counselor next summer."

I thought of what next year would mean. Being off at college, enjoying some independence. Making new friends.

But I knew that meant nothing. "You know I will," I wrote.

"Stay strong," Daddy replied.

"Stay strong," I wrote back, then set down my phone.

[theplumsoldier]

sore loser

summary: the scales of your rivalry with joel miller tips in his favor as he calls out your mistake and you end up a loser. the classic "you hate your partner but fucks him anyway"

pairing: mean!joel miller x afab!reader

warnings: 18+ please and thank you, hate sex, rough vaginal sex, spitting, slapping, choking, fingering, squirting, sloppy/rough blow job, degradation, age-gap, begging, biting, mean!joel, forced orgasm & multiple orgasms, tasting joel's blood?? no aftercare please let me know if i missed anything!! (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

You hated everything about him. You hated the way he looked, the way he spoke, and the way he walked. You hated how he was always confident, how he was always right, and the fact that he always knew which buttons to push. You hated how he was a better shooter than you, how he was better at finding supplies than you, and how he was better at tracking than you. You hated his salt-and-pepper beard, the curls in his hair, and his sun-kissed skin. You hated his brown eyes, his deep voice, and his large hands. You hated how he treated you like a child, how he called you "kid", and how he looked after you.

Most of all, right now, you hated that he shot the clicker before you managed to put a knife to its skull, how he made it look like you couldn't save yourself. He took the win and he got the point.

It was a game and you were losing this battle for dominance, and you hated losing to Joel Miller.

You had been biting your tongue so damn hard to keep yourself from stooping down on his level and the taste of blood lingered in your mouth for about 4 minutes before the last straw had been drawn.

Joel just couldn't stop himself from being an ass and work in yet another one of his snarky remarks.

"Get over yourself, Miller. I had it handled," you grumbled.

"Sure looked like it," he retorted sarcastically, making scattering noises as he dug through a crate in the warehouse.

The way he didn't even bother looking at you only made you more furious. "How the fuck do you think I survived this long on my own, huh? I've been—"

"Ask myself that every time I save your ass," he interrupted mockingly.

Your blood was boiling in your veins. He felt so fucking superior and it was driving you insane. You knew your worth, but for some reason, you had this crippling urge to prove yourself.

"Somebody needs to knock you off your fucking horse, Miller."

Joel chuckled grimly. "S'that right, sweetheart? Wanna give it a go?"

His infuriating words made you stand to your feet, and frankly, it excited Joel to see you acting like you might just do something about it.

With a groan he got up himself, easily towering over you. You swallowed harshly, jaw clenched.

Joel's face was set in a firm expression, dark eyes analyzing your face to predict your next move. It was a face-off.

There was a subtle smirk and you wanted to wipe it off so badly. This was entertaining to him—a challenge he joined, a game he played just for the kick of it.

You couldn't win a fight against him, you were smart enough to recognize that fact (at least for now). So you breathed out, your nervousness drawing out a shaky laugh.

"I hate you," you spat and turned around, sure you'd only dig a deeper hole for yourself if you looked at him any longer.

"That what you tell yourself when you dip your little fingers down between your legs?" he wondered aloud, not even testing the waters but diving head first into the lake of all your buttons that he planned to push: "Don't think I don't hear you moaning my name when you get off in the night."

Your eyes went wide and shame colored your cheeks pink. You hoped he wouldn't notice as your eyes shot daggers, completely dumbfounded, hoped your anger had already made your face red. You were at a loss for words, completely and utterly embarrassed.

The mixture of emotions compiled a message to your brain for you, and before you had a chance to regret it, you lashed out. Your hand stopped clenching and raised to deliver a well-deserved proper bitch-slap, but Joel caught your wrist. It all happened quickly, and it felt like you were watching on rather than being forced back against the wall, arms suspended against the cool and rough cement in his grasp.

Joel's head cocked, eyes blazing down at you. "You wanna try that again, sweetheart?"

The sudden close proximity made you involuntarily grind your hips forward.

"So that's what all this s'about, huh? You’ve been givin' me that bratty attitude 'cause ya got your panties in a twist?"

"Fuck you!" you snapped, the words seething through your grit teeth, leaving a bad aftertaste on your tongue.

"But that's what you want, innit sweetheart? Goin' around acting like I'm the devil's spawn, but really you just want a good fucking, yeah?"

You hated how he was always right.

Your arms strained in his grasp, writhing to get loose though the heat pooling between your legs protested. You enjoyed having him this close. You could smell him, see him.

"You're so fucking full of yourself, Miller," you snarled but had stopped trying to fight off his grip.

Joel chuckled down at you, tutting: "F’you wanna be full o' me, too, darlin', all you gotta do is ask nicely."

There was no fucking way he was actually offering to fuck you. It had to be a dream. A nightmare. But it wasn't. And he was offering exactly that, you realized as his head tilted. He was dead serious.

You knew it wasn't out of the good of his heart, so he must be wanting this, too. And if he needed it as much as you did, you were going to make him work for it.

You ground your hips into his again, this time very much on purpose.

"Tell me you don't want to bend me over right now, Miller," you leaned forward and whispered in his ear, letting your lips graze the soft flesh of his neck. His cock was hard against your cunt and he didn't do a thing to push you away. "Tell me you haven't just been dying to try out this tight pussy. An old man like you can't have had a proper fuck in ages."

He laughed. "Swallow your pride, sweetheart. You've never even been with a real man before, have ya? Always waltzin' around in your short skirts at the Byson, whoring yourself out for attention from those boys."

"Knew you'd been checking me out," you smirked, the movements of your hips now a consistent grind against him. "But you're right. And those boys can't help, they dunno how to handle me."

"I don't do charities, darlin'. F’you want me to fuck that shitty attitude out of ya, you're gonna have to prove yourself."

This time around, Joel pushed his clothed cock against your pussy and you knew what he wanted.

You wriggled your hands, inching closer to his face but never letting your skin touch. "Kinda difficult to get on my knees when you’re holding me like this, innit?"

Joel let go only to force you down on the ground, but you didn't protest. You had lost all filters, all of your arrogance as you were faced with his cock prodding at the zipper of his jeans.

Looking up as you eagerly undid his belt, you were pleased to see him inhaling deeply, proudly as he looked down on you. You pulled the zipper down, and your breath hitched as his cock saluted. He wasn't wearing underwear.

His cock was thicker than you had imagined, girthier than what you had felt while fingering yourself that night which he had so mockingly reminded you of. Long with a slight curve and a purple mushroom head unscathed. A drop of pre-cum covered the slit and you imagined it was crying for you.

"You gonna put that bratty little mouth to good use or do I gotta do that for you, too?"

Instinctively you glared up at him, giving him a look but it was washed away a second later as he took charge.

Grabbing a fistful of your hair, Joel forced you onto his cock, not giving you a second to wet your lips or spit on it. Harshly pushing you down on his cock, you found that it wasn't needed, there was plenty of saliva in your mouth to lubricate him. A whimper left you when his head hit the back of your mouth, your throat automatically constricting at the sudden intrusion. You felt your cunt mimic the reaction and clenched around nothing.

Joel was heavy in your mouth, the thickness making you worry the back row of your teeth would scrape him. If they did he didn't care, for when you looked up at him through teary eyes he was unconcerned.

He forcefully prodded against your throat, slipping in just enough to push further and you gagged.

Joel inhaled sharply. "S'a tight little throat you got there. Guess you haven't been whoring around as much as I thought," he chuckled, holding your face pressed firmly against him, your nose nuzzled in the patch of curls.

He held you there for a couple of seconds, allowing your throat to get adjusted despite acting seemingly careless about how you felt. A moment later he pulled you off by your hair, and you gasped hoarsely, blinking up at him through the tears slowly blurring your vision.

Hovering over you, Joel cupped your cheeks and lifted you slightly, bending down as he did. For a second you thought he was going to kiss you, but his fingers dug into your face, forcing your mouth open for him and he spat on your tongue, an obscene look on his face.

"Eyes on the price, sweetheart," he chuckled and landed you back on your knees.

With his hand holding you tightly by a makeshift ponytail, Joel pushed his cock back into your mouth and without warning, set a brutal pace sure to give you a headache. As slick gathered between your legs, a migraine was the least of your worries. You snaked a hand between your legs to relieve the tingling strain.

The breaths you were granted came in between the thrusts and you squeezed your eyes shut, feeling dizzy, prompting him to yank at your hair.

"Look at me," he grunted coarsely, voice going straight to your sex and you ground down hard on your hand, gasping for air. Joel admired your puffy lips, smeared with saliva, strings of drool connecting your mouth to the tip of his cock. "You look like a fuckin' mess, sweetheart. This what you been thinkin' about, hm? Been thinking 'bout acting like a little slut f'me, huh?"

His degrading words fueled your fire, both making you want to bite back at him and make him come down your throat. Opting for the latter, you tried to take him back in your mouth, wanting to put your adjusted throat to good use, but he yanked you back. A whimper left your lips and he slapped your cheek, forcing you to look at him.

"F'you know what's good for you, you'll answer when I ask you a question."

Wet and needy, you didn't hesitate. "Yes! Yes, Joel," you cried, one hand on his hip for purchase, the other hid between your legs, fervently toying with your clit. "Wanted you to treat me like a whore! Wa—wanted you to fuck me stupid!"

That's when he noticed your hand between your legs, eagerly seeking out friction. His brows connected in a crease of anger, and he had you on your wobbly legs one moment and hurled you onto a dirty surface the next.

"The fuck you think you're doin', huh? Touching yourself without permission?" Joel growled and for the first time his disappointment got to you.

He held you by your throat and you could feel the calluses in his palm scrape your skin.

"M'sorry—couldn't help myself," you babbled feverishly as he shoved a hand down your undone pants, feeling just what you had been so disrespectful to touch.

A guttural moan escaped him and you could have died just then, knowing you did that to him.

"Christ, sweetheart. You got this wet from chokin' on my cock, huh?" he mused absent-minded and you couldn't decide which you liked more; Joel calling you "sweetheart" or— "such a fuckin' slut.”

You were startled but thankful when he pulled down your jeans in one swift movement, exposing you to the cold air in the warehouse.

He didn't give you a warning before he plunged two fingers into your cunt, curling them against the velvety roof of your wet cave. Clawing onto his shoulder with a gasp of surprise, you instinctively tried to lift yourself and relieve the overwhelmingly intense feeling.

"Where you goin', sweetheart? This not what you wanted?" You desperately wanted to slap the grin off of his face, but he had you completely wrapped around his finger. Literally and figuratively. "Didn't you wanna be used like a little slut, hm?"

"Please," you begged, drawing the word out with a rugged moan and clutching to his shoulders. "Ff—uck!"

He fingered you at an unforgiving pace, three fingers and his palm slapping against your cunt each time. The squelches from your pussy resonated off the bare walls and if you hadn't been so focused on the pain mixing with pleasure, you would have been ashamed Joel was the one making you this wet.

"Joel!" you cried, tugging at the front of his shirt. "Plea-please! Need your cock!"

He choked you with his unoccupied hand, forcing your face inches from his. "Quit whinin' or I'll leave you 'ere," he threatened.

You looked up at him through hooded eyes, unable to comprehend your increasing lust for him from being this close. Joel's breath was hot on your face, breathing his air, you became dizzy from a mix of him and your impending orgasm.

"That's right, sweetheart, cream all o'er my fingers," he beckoned, feeling your contracting walls squeeze his fingers. Your legs were trembling, wanton moans spilling from your lips as Joel pulled an orgasm from you.

You incoherently begged him to fill you up, wanting nothing more than to milk his thick cock, but when he caught sight of your pleading eyes, he applied pressure to your clit instead. It was sore from the heel of his palm having slapped it repeatedly and it made you unable to come down from your high properly.

Your legs spasmed as his torturous fingers brutally skirted across your bundle of nerves. Before you could process what happened, a gush of pleasure sprayed from you.

Your cheeks flushed pink, realizing Joel had just made you squirt. You had never done that before, and you looked at him with an expression of surprise mixed with confusion. He looked proud.

Joel groaned as he stroked his throbbed cock, smearing the precum over the head while his other hand pushed down hard on your belly, holding you just at the edge of the table.

Stammering his name, your attempt at any sort of coherent sentence was foiled as he slid his girthy cock into your cunt.

Your eyes fluttered shut, walls clenching around him. You had never felt so full. "Joel—" you shuddered, gripping his bicep for purchase.

A string of curses left his lips, a crease knitting his brows together in concentration. "Fuckin' hell, sweetheart, s'a tight lil' hole ya got 'ere."

Joel wanted to take a moment just then, revel in the sweet clench of your pussy, catch his breath but he knew you would notice. As much as he had a hidden desire to ruin every other man for you and have you tail him like a lost puppy, he refused to acknowledge how overdue this was.

He didn't give you another second to adjust before he rocked his hips back and slammed his cock back into you. If you thought his fingers hit a spot, his cock fucking destroyed that.

You couldn't even form moans properly as his hips rutted at a bruising pace, expertly molding your cunt to fit him. His face contorted and he grumbled something under his breath, but you didn't care to ponder what as he filled you up. You were still dazed from the previous orgasms and it was like he wouldn't allow you to come down. Your ragged breaths, his grunts, and the wanton sounds of skin slapping filled your head as you soared around on cloud nine.

A large hand snuck under your shirt, the calluses on his palm rough against your skin but you loved the feeling as he squeezed your breast, thumb and index pinching your nipple.

Your knuckles turned pale from clutching down hard on his shoulders, fingernails clawing indents at the exposed skin on his neck and collar.

You hoped the crescents would outlast this moment, that Joel would curse at the sight the next time he looked in a mirror. You hoped he wouldn't be able to get this moment out of his head then, not ever, thinking back to this moment whenever he would see the scars you left on him.

A hiss escaped you and tore the thought of making your mark out of your mind. His deft fingers were rubbing your sore clit once again.

There was determination on his face and animalistic hunger in his dark eyes—he looked as if there was no getting through to him, like he was stuck in a world of his own.

Whether he insisted on drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you for your pleasure or his ego, you did not know. Joel always had something to prove—to himself or the people around him, it was another thing about him you didn't know. In this moment, as he chased every high for you, you didn't care either.

You hated him for making you feel this good. Hated him for making you moan in pleasure, hated him for making your legs shake uncontrollably. You wanted to taunt him, crack a spiteful comment about his age or something, let him know he wasn't doing as well as he thought—but he was. You could lie, but your body would betray you.

There was no snide comment left in you as Joel's hips pistoned into yours. It felt too good. He felt too good.

"S'too much," you gasped and held onto his shoulder, not pushing him away but not pulling him any closer either. "I can't."

The pressure on your clit was too much. The frantic rubbing, the harsh pads of his fingers, mixing pleasure with pain in the most unforgiving way. It hurt too good to want to stop him, though.

Joel surprised you, pressing his forehead against yours. His eyes were heavy, and his jaw was slack, the blissful expression ruined by a smug chuckle.

"You can. C'mon, sweetheart, I believe in you," he tutted like one would to a child riding a bike for the first time.

It spurred something inside you, the degradation. Your hooded, watery eyes caught sight of his plump lip through the blur and without a second thought, you lunged forward and bit it, your teeth piercing the soft skin.

It was the closest thing you would get to feeling them, you knew it, and you weren't about to beg for a taste.

A slap landed on your cheek, sharp and stinging, but he kept his hand there on the side of your face, cupping it in an almost endearing way.

Joel hissed at the taste of blood—surprised but not disgusted. The hand cupping your face in the sweetest way turned to force your mouth open, and you grinned bitterly when he spat on your tongue, tasting his blood.

His thrusts became more frantic, the pad of his thumb sloppily skipping over your clit as he draws your pleasure out. Forcing you to look into his eyes while you come around his cock, Joel's too far gone watching you to notice the way his balls tightened.

"Fuck—"

Slick with your juices Joel slips out of your clenching pussy, jerking his cock a few pumps as he hisses, strings of milky sperm decorating your abdomen.

Your heavy breaths hang in the room like thick syrup, bodies sticky, tension at a maximum as the lust turns back to hatred.

Joel moves from you with a grunt, a sly smirk on his lip as he moves his gaze from the mess on your stomach to your eyes. He leaves you to clean yourself up and tucks his softening cock into his pants, the zipper resounding comically loud through the silence. It reminds you of a secret between children, zipping your lips close as a solemn pledge.

It was over and it would never be brought up again. As you did your best to clean up, get back into your clothes, and comb your fingers through your hair, your eyes were trained on Joel's back—if eyes could kill and all that.

At once, you were back to hating one another. You hoped your nails had dug deep enough into his shoulder, hard enough to leave scars.

[pixiesfz]

such a tease k.c

plot: you make a comment in an interview and Kerstin makes you pay for it

warnings: suggestive, fluff

You were sat down in the press room with Sarina on your left, you were repping some of the England Lionesses merch and your hair was brushed and out, smiling out of nerves that you were chosen to take the interview.

The interview was for your opinions and predictions for the England vs Netherlands match for the Olympic qualifiers.

Your feet were jumping up and down under the table and your fingers were playing together behind the microphone.

"You ready y/n?" one of the interviewers asked and you nodded.

The interview eased in as you tried to joke around with most questions, even making a joke about Leah's coaching comments as Sarina laughed saying that she was coming for her job.

"Are you okay for a personal question?" a young interviewer raised her hand with paper in her hand.

You knew immediately where this was going as she nervously raised her hand. You were versing Netherlands.

You were versing Kerstin.

You and Kerstin had recently announced your relationship online with a picture of you two together at a winning celebration for Manchester City. This was the first game as girlfriends that you would be versing each other.

But your mood was up so you nodded your head "it's okay" you said and the girl smiled.

"Are you scared of playing your teammate Kerstin Casperij?"

You covered your ear with your hand "who?" you smirked and the room was filled with chuckles.

You let the laughter down before finishing off the question.

You groaned as you opened the door to your and Kerstin's shared apartment to hear the stove on and happily sniff the yummy smell that came from it.

"Sorry I'm late I was chosen for an interview for the game" you sighed and turned into the kitchen to only see such a sight.

Kristen was in her pajama shorts (your old Melbourne City shorts) and just a sports bra. She wasn't wearing a t-shirt, giving you access to roam your eyes on her abs.

"babe" you deadpanned and the Dutch smiled and hummed.

"How was the interview?" she asked, quickly turning to you with a soft smirk before going back to her pot "Alright, just made some jokes" you sighed and grabbed two plates as you could see your girlfriend almost finished.

"Jokes huh?" Kerstin questioned and you nodded "yeah it was the only way I could get through it though"

Looking for the salt and pepper you were lost "Kerstin?" you called out

"Who?"

Your head shot up momentarily before looking to your girlfriend who had a full smirk on her face as she held the pasta pot and was pouring them into both your bowls.

"So you watched it?" you frowned and she nodded "very funny joke, all though you don't usually forget my name, especially in the bed-"

"I panicked!"

Kirsten just smiled smugly and took off her oven mitts and wiped her hands off on her stomach which you kept on stealing glances at.

You came to a conclusion after her action, she was getting back at you.

"Kerstin put a top on," you told her and she shook her head "I thought you liked my abbs?" she asked as if she didn't know you had picked up on her plot.

"I do" you sang out "but we are eating and it's a tease" you told her "but I'm cold" she shrugged and you rolled your eyes

"We live in Manchester Kerstin there is no way you could be cold" you crossed your arms and the Dutch's girl smile grew.

"Sorry, who's Kerstin again?" she asked, her hand covering her ear, similar to how you did at the interview.

You stepped forward, closer to your girlfriend "Kerstin we have to eat dinner" you told her softly, reaching your hands out to the sides of her waist to pull her closer.

"pretty please" you added with a sickly sweet smile.

But Kerstin seemed to be liking her teasing too much "I'm not quite sure who this person you speak of is?" she cocked her head and you groaned out in annoyment before grabbing her face and pulling down so it could be close to yours.

"Kerstin is my Dutch bloody girlfriend who I love very much-"

"you also love her abs"

"Who I also love her abs and I would like to eat dinner with her before we go to the bedroom and do unspeakable things!"

You finished with raised brows at your girlfriend's satisfied gaze "Well if you wanted me that bad you could've just asked" she teased and leaned in to kiss you.

It was sweet until your hands moved around her toned stomach and she leaned away.

"I thought you wanted to eat dinner first"

"It can wait"

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Milky bath with flowers

Geta/Caracalla/Marcus x wife!reader

warning : fluff, kisses, bath toys in ancient rome (no spicy ones sorry), characters were written before the movie came out

Summary : Emperors and generals went bathing like everyone else in Rome. Maybe not on public baths or in pools, but rather in private pavements with pretty marble floors and statues of gods. But when your beloved wife has already claimed the bath, some things go differently than simply washing.

info : yes the second work to the three and i thought to myself while showering hey why not do something like this so here it is and enjoy reading :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marcus

His body was always covered in dirt, the dusty ground from the campaigns, dried blood on his hands armor and face and sand in his washed hair after weeks and months on the return journey.

So it was all the better not only to finally be able to take off the few washes with bowls and cloths, but to wash himself completely in the large bath.

Unbeknownst to him, there was already someone in the large room, someone who was closest to his heart, the reason why he prayed to the gods that he would come back to her from every fight.

Warm pleasant water surrounded her, flowers in various colors floated around her and spread an ethereal pleasant smell, the water with milk added creating an unnatural yet pleasant water color following the example of Cleopatra.

Until her eyes settled on her husband a simple cloth tied around his hips a body of fine devinietren muscles, scars and slight injuries, dark hair a mix of dark pepper and salt when she looked at the strands a pretty sign of his aging. ,,A mermaid has strayed into the water, what am I doing?" his question echoed lightly in the large room and a smirk came to her lips as he slowly climbed into the water before placing the towel on the edge and swimming over to her.

Steam rose from the water as new wood was added under the fixture to make it more comfortable for the reigns, ,,What could you do, my dear General? A kiss as a sign of your devotion," she suggested and her hands placed themselves on his upper body, feeling the muscles, the strength and willpower that dwelled within him.

She heard his slight smile as she ran her hands over the various scars, smaller and larger, before he took her hands in his rough hands and moved them down her arms to her hips, ,,If it's a kiss you want, you should have one," he replied before he smiled and complied with her request for a devoted kiss.

She let herself fall easily into his arms knowing he was holding her, but she could still feel his almost proud grin, they were both proud of each other. She knew she was his heart she was his life the reason he came back every time and he knew she was his haven when he was haunted by nightmares of battle when the uncertainty of sleep threatened to take him over she was always there for him.

Before he broke away and his fingers stroked her cheek, ,,I have the prettiest mermaid for a wife, she has stolen my heart." From time to time he enjoyed her flattering look, her gaze was followed by a kiss and she splashed him with water.

But Marcus had other plans for her to swim to the edge, he took the soft sponge and indicated for her to sit on the stairs, ,,My dear husband is aware that I am no longer a child?" she asked as he placed the sponge on her leg and held it while she relaxed.

Despite his rough exterior, killing people to win and using swords better than anyone else, he was extremely gentle. He knew exactly how hard he had to wipe the sponge over her skin, how pleasant he made it for her and left kisses on her skin when it was a little too hard.

The divine sight of her wet hair, the individual drops of water that slid over her naked body and the flowers that surrounded her did everything for Marcus. ,,I am aware of that, my heart, but let me be your humble servant," he replied, a smile creeping onto his lips and she let a hand wander over his curls, which had grown a little longer since the last time. Before she let him go on, her sigh of pleasure came over her lips every now and then as he massaged her muscles and kissed her body.

The conversations of simple business to new home furnishings were interrupted every now and then by touches and kisses as they enjoyed the bath, enjoyed each other and the blossoms of love continued to float around the roses long after they had left the bath hand in hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Geta

An emperor did not dirty his hands, never would a man of his status, his stature, his influence soil his own hands with blood. Giving orders and passing judgment was more what he did and yet Geta also had to take a bath in the large extra area of the palace, a bathing area, an area full of baths, full of exotic plants with statues of gods, statues of him and his brothers in various poses and a statue clad in gold of his wife the Empress of Rome the most desirable of all the beautiful beauties the empire had to offer.

But above all she belonged to him and whenever the golden sun went down in the evening, Rome slowly lay down and ate his dinner, Geta found himself in the large bathing area, a simple tunic wrapped around his body, but as he moved towards the large pool he saw that someone was making the water move.

A body, a body familiar to him was in his bath if it was his brother they would have argued enruet but instead a satisfied look settled on his bright eyes. ,,My empress takes a bath without me and doesn't even invite me in, how disobedient,” his voice rang out and she turned to him, startled that someone had come in, as no one else was allowed in except the emperor himself and she relaxed again.

Swimming over to him, she saw him take off his clothes and come to her, a familiar sight swimming towards her after he had been submerged once, his white face make-up running and the black around his eyes making it look like another mask before he wiped it away.

,,I hope my Emperor can forgive me…I was afraid for a moment that it was your brother and I would have to call you,” she admitted and felt his hand move up her thigh, soft skin smooth through the milky water with yellowish and white daffodils specially grown for the Empress, her favorite flowers.

She saw him roll his eyes, he was hardly ever on speaking terms with his elder brother Caracalla but it flattered him when she admitted that her husband was her salvation.

Simple flattery between them but you had to keep an emperor of the world happy in one way or another. ,,You are forgiven and you must be unconcerned only the two of us are here,” the blond murmured and she felt his fingers go up further, a smug expression as he ignored her midsection and instead ran his fingers over her lips before engaging her in a kiss.

Greedily, he took her lips, rasped her words and the two bodies drifted lightly against each other through the water, lightly pushing aside the flowers and coming to rest at the edge of the pool.

His lips broke away from hers, but his hands remained on her body, running down her cheek to her neck, seeming to enjoy her steady pulse, ,,I'm always soothed when you're with me, my love,” she assured him, stroking his curly blonde hair, feeling him nuzzle his head against her hand for a moment and knowing that he enjoyed it when she played with his curls.

Especially when they lay together in the big four-poster bed after a bath a few hours later and he put his hands around her and didn't let go while she ran her hands through his hair until he fell asleep.

The quiet moment pleasant between them was the excitement of the Colosseum behind them both, his excitement was so much enjoyed that Rome's fate lay on his and his brother's shoulders, war had to be fought and a kingdom had to be preserved.

It was all the nicer when they could spend their time together in the evening, ,,The fight today I think the wagering was unpleasant” he joked and told her about the rumors and gossip of the senate as his fingers casually wandered into her hair and he took out the hairpin and her hair now touched the water.

During the day she always had it up because of the sun and heat to avoid sweating even more, but in the bath she had actually known to apply a special tincture that shouldn't get wet until it was absorbed, but now she could forget about it. ,,You're even prettier this way,” he said and ran his hand over her strand of hair, playing with it by wrapping the long needle around it and watching the water drip down it while her hand played with his curls from time to time.

It was a slow evening, an evening in which she let him talk, enjoyed the little games and massages between them, the kisses he initiated and was grateful that he had had her warm bathrobe brought so that they arrived in bed together warmed up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caracalla

Geta's older brother, Caracalla, was a young man who, even though he was the most powerful of the current world, had completely different interests. He was not concerned with the people, the war was an amusement for him and victories were a matter of course.

No, what mattered to him was his amusement and that he wasn't bored because there was nothing worse than being bored, a wlet's existence in a long world was bad because he was always looking for entertainment.

Not only in his beloved wife, the Empress of Rome, his love and his everything and this entertainment, this amusement, was also part of his life and, as on this evening, also in the large bath which was also in the emperor's palace. The bath was specially equipped for him with beautiful ornaments and decorations a favorite gods and past people so that his imagination was stimulated, including a statue of his wife in a godly disguise.

But that's not why he ran into the bath with his things in his arms - on the contrary, he gripped the wood in his arms tightly and looked from afar at the naked person in the large basin. ,,Attention! The fleet is attacking!” he shouted and heard the surprised sound of his wife before he landed in the water and the wooden toys scattered on the water and individual flowers almost threatened to drown.

Colorful flowers that resembled a rainbow many colors were his wife's favorite even though he preferred blood red he liked her devotion to color.

After hastily emerging, he laughed when he saw that his waves from the jump had completely overwhelmed her and she brushed the strands of hair from her face, ,,A surprise attack is not a bad tactic,” she admitted before she lunged and splashed water at him, causing his make-up to melt and him to spit water.

The two young adults could be heard laughing as she swam closer to him and fished the sponge out of the water she had been using just minutes before and began wiping the makeup off his face while his jittery fingers ran over her body.

From light tickling movements that made her grin to something lewd, she felt him run his hands over her chest to get a reaction from her, always watching what she did, how her gaze changed, whether her lips moved up or down, and especially whether she did the same.

,,My battle emperor forgets I'm busy, doesn't he?” she murmured and rubbed a little harder over his cheek to get the last of the white face make-up off, which he answered with a shrug and a playful dive. She rolled her eyes and still kept an eye out for him, she liked his playful manner and knew that sometimes he was just a bit more playful than his brother, but still the co-emperor of rome.

She had respect for him, but just as often she had to stand up for him when Geta went too far with his sayings and especially his looks and actions, which made those moments of peace and togetherness all the more important. ,,A bestial water creature under me, what am I supposed to do?” she asked loud enough for him to understand and let out a laugh as she felt him dive under her and throw her up very lightly, landing in the water again.

Once again the flowers floated everywhere and the wooden figures sloshed their own way as Caracalla took her hand and gave it a gentle kiss, ,,Forgive me my beloved but this creature is now defeated,” he chuckled and she ran her hand over his blond hair before kissing him on the forehead and taking one of the wooden figures.

It was actually a toy for children, for the future heir of Rome, but Caracalla still enjoyed it and she steered one of the ships towards him while he took one of the catapults and placed a rose on it, ,,And sunk!” he exclaimed, and the blast flew through the air and hit her ship with pinpoint accuracy, sinking it.

They fought a toy battle over several waves and waves until there were hardly any flowers left in the water as they were all shot out of the water and she saw that Caracalla was getting bored again.

Which is why she grabbed the warm tunics and decided to play a different kind of game, a game that could last all night and that she would never get tired of and that the bath would only be the beginning of a battle-filled devotion, that much they both knew when their lips found each other again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[tightjeansjavi]

as natural as another leg around you in the bed frame

A/N: well..this was supposed to just be a fluffy little piece with a dabble of smut but uhh we took the angsty route! Don’t act so surprised ;)

~word count: 2.0k~

Summary: Joel returns home to you after patrol injured, and hiding it from you.

Pairing | post! outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut, minor injuries, mentions of a knife wound, stitches, blood, brief lying, stubborn Joel, soft! Joel, protective! Joel, he turns into a whimpering mess! Joel, comfort, care, unconditional love, tending to Joel’s wounds, intimacy, handjob in the tub, praise, talking him through it, ends with a well deserved nap, reader has no physical descriptions, no age gap, +18 minors dni!

main masterlist masterlist

If there’s one thing that Joel Miller loves most in this cruel, unforsaken carnage of what is left of the world that he knows, it’s the privilege of getting to come home to you. He has someone to protect outside of Ellie, who is well off in her own life with Dina by her side. Joel would still put his life out on the line for her without a second thought. He’d do the same for you because well, you’re his; and he is yours.

He comes home to you, to your arms, to your warmth everyday. He thrives in it the second his arms loop around your waist and he hugs you so tight to his chest you can hardly take in a lungful of air. You let him hug you just like so every time. You love him, and that’s all there is to know.

Your Joel sometimes returns home to you with speckled blood spattered on his cheeks, dusting his eyebrows and salt and pepper hair. Sometimes his flannel is caked in dirt and congealed blood, but it’s never his own. He always reassures you that it’s not his. He kisses the frown that appears between your brows when you’re feeling unconvinced. Maybe it’s due to the way his hands tremble at the slightest, or his breath hitches in his throat, a wheeze slides past his lips as he tries to mask it with a quick clearing of his throat.

You see right through it, and he knows you do.

“Joel,” You softly whisper through the calming domestic air. “Are you hurt?”

He tightly shakes his head, back going rigid and stiff like a plank of wood. He avoids making direct eye contact with you to try and mask the fact that he is lying.

“M’not hurt, sweet girl.” He murmurs as he slowly slides his rifle strap from his shoulder. He winces slightly from the jagged gash on his right bicep as he hangs the strap of the rifle along the rusted hook on the wall.

“Please don’t lie to me. You’re hurt. I can see it written all over your face, Joel.” You pleaded with him as your hand traveled up the expanse of his chest and finally rested along his jaw. You could feel the patches of his wiry beard lightly scratch across the soft underside of your palm.

“S��just a scratch. Ain’t deep or nothin.’ I’m alright. You don’t gotta worry ‘bout me, sweetheart.” His words rumbled like thunder from an oncoming storm. He wasn’t exactly an expert liar.

“Let me see it.” You demanded in an urgent tone, thumb gently brushing across his chapped lips.

His head dips down in defeat as he leans into your soft caress, “Honey,” He starts, almost vying to plead with you, but you don’t let him finish.

“Joel, please. Please just let me take care of you. You’re hurt, and I need to make sure it’s not infected.”

He begrudgingly agrees because he knows this is a battle he cannot win. His hand slowly reaches up towards his face as his fingers find yours and thread them together before dropping them to his side. He lets you lead him up the staircase and to your shared bathroom. He doesn't speak, only grunts as you sit him down on the edge of the closed toilet seat.

You can feel his eyes drifting across your back as you grab the first aid kit from the medicine cabinet.

You’re too good to him, he silently thinks to himself as he begins to undo the buttons of his flannel. His shoulders ache as he peels the fabric from his skin and discards it onto the faded tile floor. He’s got a makeshift bandage wrapped around the wound as you use the empty trash cash as a makeshift stool. “Just a scratch?” you question as he unties the fabric. The gash is at least an inch or so deep. Just enough that he’ll need stitches.

“S’nothin.’ Stopped bleedin’ hours ago.” He mumbled under his breath.

“Why did you want to hide this from me, Joel?” The firstaid kit is resting along your lap when he finally makes eye contact with you.

“Cus’ I don’t like seein’ you upset when I get hurt. S’my fault. M’gettin’ slower out there. Can’t keep up like I used to.” He sounded defeated as his shoulders slumped forward.

“Joel, I'm not upset, okay? I just don’t like it when you hide these things for me. I’m sure the guy that knifed you is in far worse condition than you are.” You responded softly as you pulled out what probably was 20+ year old disinfectant, but it still did the trick.

“Let’s jus’ say he’s gonna have a real long sleep. Bugs n’the critters will make good use outta his body.” Joel was never shy when it came to his duty on patrol, and what it sometimes turned out to be. He knew you were not frightened by this knowledge, and he knew you held no moral judgment over his head for it.

“This is going to sting a little.” You briefly warned him as you held the spray bottle a few inches above his wound before administering a few spritzes.

“M’favorite part.” He teased with barely a wince given.

When his wound was clean, and the needle was sterilized, Joel pressed a tender kiss to your temple in reassurance. “G’nna patch me up nice n’good now, baby?”

“Mhm.” You murmured softly.

“‘Atta girl.” He relaxed his posture, and his arm so you would have an easier time stitching his skin back together. He knew this part always made you a little apprehensive, but humming soothingly under his breath did the trick.

Once you had successfully sutured his wound, you wrapped it firmly in a bit of gauze before tilting your head in the direction of the tub. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

He didn’t argue this time, but before you could stand up, he was reaching for your face with both hands as he pressed his lips to yours in a gentle embrace. It was tender, sweet, ignited by his devotion for you. The kiss lasted all of a few seconds before he was reluctantly pulling away. You heard the familiar crack of his knees as he slowly stood up.

You silently started the water for the tub. Checking the temperature every few seconds to make sure it was adequately warm enough for the two of you.

You listened to the faint clink of his belt, followed by the denim of his jeans sliding down his strong thighs. You watched from your peripheral as his broad form slowly sunk down into the soothing water. He made sure to keep his bandaged arm resting along the rim of the tub so that it wouldn’t accidentally get wet.

“S’nice.” He softly grunted as he stretched his legs out. “Y’gnna join me?” He tilted his chin to the side, watching you with a soft expression etched across his weathered face.

“Of course I am, baby.” You saw a hint of a smirk tug on his lips. He couldn’t help but indulge himself in watching you undress. You were beautiful, and he was a man after all.

Much to his surprise, you didn’t make yourself comfortable between the expanse of his thighs. Instead, you sank down behind him, with your arms wrapping around his middle, breasts pressed firmly to his back as you hugged him tightly.

“What’re y’doin’ back there, honey?” He asked, words vibrating through your body as he craned his head over his shoulder to try and look at you.

“Just want to hold you.” Was your response as you began to press soft kisses between his shoulder blades.

“You’re a sweetheart, y’know that? M’so lucky to have ya.” He nearly whispered as he settled further back into the warm water, and your gentle grasp around him.

Your hands traveled upwards from the soft swell of his tummy, and up to his shoulders where you gently began to knead the sore muscle tissue with your fingers. You worked your way through a stubborn knot just below his right shoulder blade. He melted into your touch like warm butter on a pan. He didn’t realize just how tense he was until you started working your way through his sore spots.

“Y’don’t gotta be doin’ all of this f’me, sweet girl.” His eyes fluttered shut as he let a breathy sigh escape past his lips.

“I want to, Joel. I want to take care of you. You’re always taking care of me..you deserve the same kind of treatment. You do so much to keep me, Ellie, and the rest of the town safe from harm. Most importantly, I love you. You’re my partner, and you deserve all the care and attention from me right now.”

Fuck.

“I love you too, sweet girl. Love you s’fuckin’ much. You’re always s’good t’me. Luckiest man in town, gettin’ to be loved by you.” He hummed appreciatively.

He could feel you smiling against his damp skin as your hands slowly drifted back down to rest along his tummy as a comfortable silence washed over the two of you. The water had begun to turn a slightly diluted pink color from the dried blood naturally being washed away on his skin. The tub faucet dripped a few droplets that landed on the tub's surface leaving delicate ripples in their wake.

He could stay like this forever; here with you.

When your fingers lightly brushed across the expanse of coarse, dark hair along his pelvic area, words were already tumbling from his lips before you could even ask him.

“Please.” He murmured as he desperately tried to grasp at his rational straws. So many times he had denied himself of his own pleasure, simply because he’d much rather take care of you.

His hand that wasn’t resting along the edge of the tub slipped under the water and guided your hand to where his softened cock laid between his thighs.

“Please,” He asked again, voice nearly cracking from the desperation to feel your touch.

“I’ll take care of you.” You whispered as your fingers slowly wrapped around the base of his shaft, thumb reaching up to paint across his weeping tip.

His head fell back to rest upon your shoulder as he gripped the side of the tub with knuckles turning stark white. A whimper escaped past his lips as you slowly began to twist and pump your wrist. You worked him in expert, slow strokes as he praised you shamelessly.

“S’good.” He uttered with a soft grunt. “S’good to me. Please don’t stop. Don’t stop, sweet girl.” He’d beg you if necessary, but based off the way you were softly shushing him with delicate kisses laid upon his cheekbones, he knew you had all the intentions of taking care of him.

His thighs began to quiver underwater, toes curling, hips bucking upwards against your hand as profanity mixed with praise tumbled from his parted lips like an avalanche along a steep mountain pass. He turned into a whimpering mess just from your hand alone.

“Shh. I got you, Joel. I got you. You’re safe..let go baby, it’s okay.” You whispered against the shell of his ear as he cried out your name. His hips stilled in the now cloudy water from his post release. He felt spent, placid, calm in your grasp as his cock went soft in your palm.

You washed away the remnants of blood that stuck to his hair and face, before you departed from the lukewarm embrace.

He was the one to wrap a fluffy towel around the both of you as he left soft kisses anywhere his lips could reach. You declined his generous offer to go down on you simply for the fact that you could sense his exhaustion from the day. You softly offered him a nap instead. His one request was to feel your skin against his, while he paid no mind to the sheets getting damp from not properly drying off. His legs tangled protectively around yours as you lazily pulled the duvet over your bare skin. His nose nuzzles the spot between your neck and collarbone as his arms wrap around your middle. One hand splays out across the soft swell of your tummy, while the other rests across your hip. You sleep for hours in this domestic intimacy that you have forged tirelessly together.

You’re his; and he is yours, and that’s all there is to know.

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[finnsbubblegum]

I Don’t Deserve You {Part 1} (Joel Miller x Reader)

Pairing: post-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: fluff, protective joel, use of (y/n) and (y/l/n), age gap (reader is in her 20s and Joel is in his 50s), mentions of abuse, vague mentions of period (lmk if i missed any)

Summary: You were popular in Jackson but you have been single your whole life. Despite many men flirting with you, you have never found your ideal type. Until one day, you saw Joel and you fell in love at first sight.  But he felt insecure.

Words count: 2.2k

A/N: There will be part 2 for this one so stay tuned!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

“Hey (y/n)! You’re here!.” Your friend, Lily greeted you.

“Hi Lily! It’s Friday night and I have nothing to do at home. I heard tonight is the kids’ movie night. I thought I’d stop by and see my students. What are they playing tonight?”

“The Lion King. It's the third time they’re playing it again. Ugh.”

“Oh! Well, I can’t blame them. Kids love The Lion King. ” 

You were a teacher in Jackson so you knew how much the kids love that movie. They would ask you to sing Hakuna Matata every day in school.

“(y/n) look there.” Lily gave you a sign to look behind you.

You were familiar with Tommy and Maria. But you didn’t recognize the other two. You saw a man who looked similar to Tommy but older and a teen girl walking inside following Tommy and Maria.

“Newcomers?” You asked Lily.

“They came a while ago. I heard his name is Joel Miller.”

“Miller? So he’s Tommy’s brother then?” You tilted your head.

“I’m guessing older brother. He came with the girl. I assumed she’s his daughter. But no wife. Probably single.” Lily smirked and lightly bumped her elbow to you. 

Lily knew you’ve been single your whole life. You were pretty popular in Jackson. You were beautiful inside out and everyone adored your kind and altruistic self. You have had many men flirting with you but you have never found “The One”.

“Why are you giving me that face?” You slapped Lily’s upper arm.

You were slightly annoyed with Lily’s action but deep down you liked it. He was probably a lot older than you but you couldn’t deny the fact that the middle-aged man looked hot with his salt and pepper hair. His shoulder was broad and he was a lot taller than you. His face didn’t look friendly but you could see a strong man from his eyes.

“Well, I mean he looked pretty hot for his age.” You put your hand behind your neck awkwardly.

“I know right! Why don’t you try and go talk to him?” Lily pushed you.

“Oh no no, that’s not why I’m here today. I’m here to watch a movie with my students.” 

“Ugh..You’re no fun (y/n).” Lily crossed her arms.

“Okay, enough talking about men. Now, I’m gonna get me some popcorn and enjoy The Lion King.” You walked away giving a mocking face to your friend.

“Ms. (y/l/n)!” A little boy called you and hugged your legs.

“Hey Timmy! Are you here with your parents?” You crouched to be the same height as the little boy.

“Yes! There!” Timmy pointed his index finger to show you where his parents were.

“Do you want some popcorn?” You smiled as you caressed his hair. 

“Yes! Yes!” He jumped excitedly.

“Okay, Timmy. Calm down.” You chuckled as you took two bowls of popcorn for you and Timmy.

“Here.” You gave Timmy his popcorn.

“Thank you, Ms. (y/l/n)!” He ran to his seat as the movie was starting.

Your heart was warm just by watching how excited the little boy was. You smiled as you stood up. You looked to your right and found Joel staring at you. He looked away immediately when you made eye contact with him. You pretended it never happened and walked to find a seat.

“Pretty, huh?” Tommy teased Joel.

“What?” Joel acted dumb.

“I know you were starin’ at that pretty girl right there, Joel. Don’t even think about it. All the men in Jackson have tried winning her heart but no one has succeeded.” Tommy scoffed.

“I wasn’t even thinkin’ about it.” Joel growled.

Joel lied. Deep down in his heart he thought you were attractive. You were beautiful in his eyes, especially the way you were so kind to the little kid before. For the past 20 years, kindness was something that was not common to see. So he felt warm in his heart when he saw someone so pretty and kind before his eyes.

The night ends with you having a split second of eye contact with Joel.

On Sundays, you took part in church services as one of the singers of the choir group. You were singing and found Joel sitting beside Tommy, Maria and Ellie. You saw him staring at you as you were singing. You tried to focus and avoid eye contact with him. Again, the two of you never had a conversation. Just eye contact. You went with your week without bumping into Joel. You couldn’t help thinking about him. He was your type and you wanted to get to know him more. But you were scared of how intimidating he looked and people were talking about how grumpy he was.

One week had passed since you saw Joel. It was Saturday night, you were suffocated in your bedroom as you couldn’t stop thinking about him. After a few moments of rolling on your bed, you decided to go to the bar where Lily worked.

“Oh, (y/n). I’m glad you’re here. One of our workers didn’t come to work today. We need help. Will you help us?” Lily sighed and gave you the puppy eyes.

“Yeah, sure. Why not?” You followed Lily behind the bar counter and put on the apron she gave you.

“Thank you so much. You’re my lifesaver. So, you know the drill, right? You’ve helped me here a few times before.” Lily put her hands to hold your upper arm.

“Of course.” You nodded. 

Apparently, you have always helped Lily at the bar whenever she needed help. You loved your friend so you were always there to help her whenever you were available. It was hectic for a few hours then people were starting to leave. That was the moment you saw Joel walking inside towards you. He chose a seat in front of the bar counter. You were wiping some glasses as he sat in front of you. 

“What can I get you?” You asked him.

“Just a glass of beer.” His eyes looked tired but he tried to give you a smile.

“Here.” You passed him the beer.

You were thinking maybe this was your chance to have a conversation with him. With the man who had been occupying your mind the whole week. You gathered your courage and started a conversation.

“Long day, huh?” 

“Nearly got one of the guys killed on patrol today.” He told you as he drank his beer.

“Oh. Is he okay?” You tried to sympathize with him.

“He’s fine. Got a few stitches but he’s fine physically. I’m not sure about mentally.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Hoping your words could help him calm down.

He nodded and looked at you. You could see his lips moving. It looked like he was trying to say something but he was hesitating.

“You were amazing the other day.” He finally found his words.

“Huh?” You were confused.

“I saw you in church last Sunday.”

“Oh! You mean choir. Thank you.” You couldn’t hide your smile from his compliment.

You flinched as you heard Lily calling your name, cutting off your conversation with Joel. Joel was eavesdropping.

“(y/n)! Thank you so much for helping us. We have less customers now. You can go home and rest now. You can have a voucher for a free drink if you want.” Lily was grateful to have a friend like you.

“It’s nothing. That’s what friends are for. I’m always here to help. Anyways, can I have that free drink tonight?” Lily smirked as she knew what you were going to do.

You took off your apron and walked towards Joel. 

“Can I join you?” You asked Joel.

“Sure.” He nodded and dragged the chair next to him for you to sit. 

“I’m (y/n). I haven’t got your name.” You extended your hand to shake his hand. 

“Joel. Joel Miller.” He shook your hand.

“Miller? As in Tommy Miller?” You pretended like you didn’t know him.

“He’s my brother. Younger brother.” 

You hummed and nodded as if you just connected the dot. 

“So, you work here?” Joel faced you and asked.

“Uhm..No, I was just helping my friend today. One of the workers didn’t come so I came to help.” 

“How nice of you. Don’t think there’s someone who's still kind enough in this ruined world.” 

“I guess there is still hope.”

Joel scoffed. 

“So, if you’re not a bartender then..” 

“Guess. What kind of job do you think I’m doing?” You tried to flirt with Joel.

“Uhmm.. nurse?” Joel shrugged.

“Hmm..nope.” You shook your head.

“Teacher? I don’t know but I think you will make a great teacher like teaching kids. You look really patient.” Joel answered with a doubting tone.

“No way? Really? You’re right though. I teach kids in this town. I’ve been teaching for a few years now.” You chuckled.

“What do you teach? Fractions?” Joel tried to joke. (TLOU ep 1 reference 😂)

“Yes, yes. It’s one of them.” You threw your head back and laughed.

Joel shook his head and smiled. He looked like he was proud of getting the right answer.

“How about you?” You asked him back.

“Me?” He pointed at himself on the chest.

“You do patrols?” You nodded and drank your beer.

“I..uh.. arrived here not long ago. Still figurin’ things out and helpin’ doin’ patrols at the moment.” 

“You must be a tough guy.” You gave him a light fist on his upper arm and you could feel how strong his biceps were.

He flinched at the touch as he was getting butterflies from your slight touch. He didn’t know he would ever feel that feeling that he hadn’t had for years. 

“Oh shit.” You sighed as you saw Josh, the man who was obsessed with you coming towards you.

“You know you shouldn’t say that word when you’re teachin’ right?” Joel teased you not knowing about the situation.

“Hey, baby. Why are you drinking without me?” Josh put his arms around you as he sat next to you.

“I don’t have a reason to drink with you, Josh.” You rolled your eyes as you shoved his hand away.

“Cranky. Are you at that time of the month?” He mocked you.

Josh had asked you out before but you didn’t like him. You knew he only wanted to get inside your pants. Just like the other guys. But he was obsessed with you. You rejected his proposal to be his girlfriend but he kept coming after you. 

Joel watched you as you clenched your fist gripping your jeans. He knew you were not comfortable with Josh’s appearance so instead of leaving, he stayed beside you.

“So who is this old man? I haven’t seen you.” Josh looked at Joel.

“He’s my friend.” You answered him coldly.

“I’m Joel.” Joel introduced himself without extending his hand to shake hands with Josh.

“Well, Joel. I need time alone to be with (y/n). Can you leave?” Josh moved his hands back and forth as he was trying to tell Joel to go away.

You were scared. You didn’t want to be alone with Josh. Not after that time, when he slapped you after saying no to be his girlfriend. Your hands were shaking and Joel noticed.

“We were about to leave actually. I promised (y/n) somethin’.” Joel lied to help you get out of this situation.

You looked at Joel and let out a sigh as you felt safe that Joel would protect you. Joel stood up and held your wrist to get you out of the bar.

“She’s staying.” Josh grabbed your other wrist.

You gasped and your eyes were teary.

“You really don’t want to mess with me, kid.” Joel growled.

You could see his death stare at Josh. Josh got scared as Joel was bigger than him. Even though he looked intimidating, you weren’t scared of him. Instead, you felt safe and comfortable. As you and Joel walked a few steps far enough from the bar, Joel stopped.

“You’re shakin’. Are you alright?” His voice was soft. It sounded very different from when he was talking to Josh.

“I-I-Uhm-I’m fine. Thank you.” You couldn’t breathe properly because you were too scared.

Josh’s appearance made all your bad memories came to your head again. 

“Hey. You’re safe now.” Joel rubbed your back up and down to make you feel calm.

“Where do you live? Let me walk you home.” 

“Uh-It’s- 15 minute walk from here.” You guided Joel to your house.

“So is this Josh guy your ex-boyfriend or somethin’?” Joel asked.

“Ugh. No. He asked me out but I said no. And then he slapped me. Many times. I got bruises from it.”

“Jesus. I’m sorry that happened to you.” Joel closed his eyes as he was shocked to hear that happened to you. He wondered how someone could hurt a kind and nice person like you. 

As you arrived at your front porch, you faced Joel.

“Thank you for helping me out today, Joel.” 

“No problem. Just find me whenever you need help.” He shoved his hands in his pocket.

The night ended. You were glad you finally talked to Joel today. And your head couldn’t stop rewinding that scene when he saved you from Josh. You giggled and kicked your blanket thinking about him. You just talked to him once but your feelings towards Joel had already grown deeper. 

To be continued..

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

[itsvaleriesucka]

forbidden love

pairing: demon!joel miller x angel!fem reader 

rating: explicit 18+ (minors dni) 

word count: 3.1k 

summary: you and joel lovingly spend the rest of the afternoon together in your room. things began to get steamy. 

warnings: sex, kissing, smoking, unprotected p in v, cock riding, oral sex (m!receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, creampie, light choking, age gap (50s/20s), no use of y/n, no outbreak 

a/n: my love for demons and angels will always have a special place in my heart. i seriously need demon joel in my life. this is the only way to fulfill this fantasy of mine. i hope you like it! i have other stories in mind that i would like to write soon so stay tuned. please do not read if you’re sensitive to any of these topics. you have been warned. 

The dark ambience of sounds coming from your Crosley record player touches a comfortable feeling deep inside your aching heart. The sound escaping lingered throughout the atmosphere of your own room. The aroma of expensive perfume and cigarettes fills the air and into your nostrils on this peaceful afternoon. 

Your cherry red almond nails did their little dance across Joel’s tousled salt and pepper hair, feeling every soft strand there is. You both layed in bed beside each other heavenly. Your right leg wrapped and pressed against his lower body, skin bear and visible from your mini white lace slip gown you decided to wear. Your eyes lingered all across his handsome facial features. He’s perfect and he is everything to you. 

His strong arm wraps around you, his hand and fingers soothing your soft skin on that bare thigh of yours. He draws you in closer, a feeling he did not want to let you go. With such a feeling, you pulled yourself away and positioned yourself above him, both legs locked and pressed against the sides of his hips. You sat gently upon his lap. You felt Joel’s large hands grip your hips to keep you in place. His thumb softly rubs against your hip bones in a circular motion. 

Both of your hands press themselves against his bare broad chest. Your eyes wandered each of his scars he’s had over the past years. Joel reached beside your nightstand to grab his cigarette that’s placed on a red heart shaped ashtray that was handmade by you. Staring at the piece of work, you already remembered you took him to a ceramics studio on one of your dates with him when you both were starting out.

You and Joel are the total opposites. You take him to cute and fun places while he takes you to places that are, well, questionable and odd. He’s mature and you’re young. He wears black and you wear white. He’s a demon and you’re an angel. 

Just the thought of a holy and unholy being together made the corner of your lips to curl downward into a frown. You felt your own stomach turn. You were so calm and content seconds ago and now you’re suddenly feeling sad. You tried not to reveal your emotions by forcing yourself to smile and looking away to distract yourself. You felt a tear drop escape from the outer corner of your eyes. You felt the liquid stream down against your cheek. You quickly wiped it away with the back of your hand but it was no use, Joel can already sense there was something wrong, even before you managed a frown.

“What’s the matter, angel?” Aside from being an actual angel, it’s indeed a lovely nickname for you. You always adored the way it draws out from him with that southern accent that sounded as pure as honey can taste.

“Nothing.” You watched the excess smoke from his Lucky Strike cigarette he inhaled, exhale through his nostrils, filling the air in your room. Joel quirked a brow. He kept his expression as stoic as usual. He wasn’t buying that pity answer from you. 

“Bullshit.” His eyes analyzed every single expression you gave off. 

Fine. He wins. 

“For a moment I thought about the opposites of you and I. Our kind being together…It’s forbidden…” you softly remarked. Already reminding yourself of the bigger books and the higher Gods. You completely detest yourself for ruining a precious moment between you two. You wanted to vanish in thin air right now. All you could try to concentrate on was the music that played in the background to numb your thoughts.

Joel rubbed the tip of his cigarette against the ashtray to put it out. He sat himself up while still holding you in place against his lap. You felt his fingers gently pinch the sides of your jawline. He wanted you to look at him and you did. 

“I don’t care about that,” Joel pulls you in closer, his gaze never leaving your precious face, “I care about you.” You felt his other hand rubbing small circles against your lower vertebrae to calm you down.

You knew he did. Despite who he truly is, you knew he wasn’t lying. Your mind was anxious and filled with fear of what can happen but your heart says otherwise. You cupped both his cheeks and felt his lips press against the palm of your delicate hand. You lean forward to press your lips against his, never pulling away. His mustache tickled your upper lip which made you smile from the sensation. 

Your rushed thoughts were silenced when you felt his tongue slide across your bottom lip. You part your lips, allowing his tongue to explore inside your mouth. You brushed your tongue against his tongue and it felt delicious. It felt delicious to be kissed by the devil. To Joel, it felt amazing to caress and taste an innocent angel such as yourself. 

You managed to pull away from his kiss and released a low sigh trying to catch your breath. Both foreheads pressed together. The smell of coffee and cigarette lingers from him. You felt his hot breath against your cheeks when he decided to plant kisses along your jawline down to your neck. You whined at the feeling of his teeth nibbling your sensitive spot against the soft flesh of your neck and your collarbone. You pushed your hips forward against his lap as your reaction to ease a certain tension that began to stir in between your inner thighs. The sudden friction caused his cock to twitch underneath his black boxers. 

As much as you needed him, he needed you. You did not hesitate to remove yourself from Joel’s lap and positioned yourself on your knees. Joel knew exactly the kind of move you were about to make so he sat himself up. He watched the hesitancy of your movements. How those soft hands gently rubbed the fabric that covered his growing erection. He lightly hummed at the gentle movement.

Joel did not hesitate to assist you by guiding your hand into the fly of his boxers, allowing you to touch him as you please. You gripped his thick cock and slowly worked your wrist to start a burning sensation in his core as you stroked his cock willingly. His throat vibrated from a satisfactory groan he released. You removed his large cock from his fly and watched as his precum dripped down, from his pink tip that swelled, against his length landing upon your hand. 

You brought your hand and licked the precum off your thumb and index finger. Joel grins at your insatiable desire. That naughty glint within his eyes began to shine. You lowered yourself close to his erection.

“Open that pretty mouth of yours.” He commands and you obliged instantly. You part your mouth and shivered at the feeling of his cock brushing precum all over your plump lips. You kissed his tip, allowing a string of his precum stretch in between. You languidly licked your bottom lip to obtain the salty taste. You lean yourself further more to shove his cock inside your mouth. You felt your mouth slowly becoming full. Cheeks hollow. Your taste buds swell to form excess saliva from the taste of his skin. 

It was a natural instinct to breathe through your nostrils from the absurd gesture. You tried not to choke but yet you always do for how large and thick he is. You should know better. You felt your cunt lightly clench at the sensation. Your core was starting a fire on its own. 

“You look so beautiful like this f’me.” Words that almost sounded like whispers slipped past his mouth as he brushed your hair with his fingers, petting you. You hummed in return to his compliment that his cock, again, twitched at the sudden vibration. With his hand still pressed upon your head, Joel wasted no time and lowered his boxers down, along with your head further down. He wanted the tip to touch the back of your throat. He wanted your mouth full of his entire length.

“Good girl…” he praised and you released a broken groan, almost choking. Your tongue danced along his shaft. He tastes just so damn good that your saliva mixed with his precum is already dripping down past your chin. You managed to follow his rhythm by bobbing your head at a steady pace. You’ve done this so many times and every single time it just keeps getting better and better. Your eyes fluttered shut in order to concentrate. Your hums mixed with soft melodies from your record player tune perfectly together. 

Your right hand squeezed his shaft, stroking him firmly while your other hand worked their magic by massaging his balls. If Joel always makes you feel good, he deserves the attention of feeling good as well.

“Fuck,” the demon cursed and thrust his hips forward. He pushes your head further down to the point your nose rubbed against his happy trail and saliva that splattered across. You gagged at the sudden reflex of his cock shoved deep down into your throat. Your eyes watered and trailed down each side of your cheeks. Your cunt kept clenching, begging for more. “You filthy slut…” 

The way he called you a filthy slut made you giggle. You felt butterflies form inside the pit of your stomach. Don’t get yourself wrong, you are indeed a good holy being. You always do the nicest things for mankind and try to help out in the darkest of times. But when you’re alone with Joel, it seems like you’re nothing but his devil woman. 

You brought yourself to pull away from his cock, trying to catch your own breath. You opened your mouth to release all that excess saliva that mixed with his own juices right upon his cock, lubricating him like the good angel you are. Your small hand now glides easily against him. Wet and sloppy. “I love being your filthy slut.” 

The way Joel’s pupils are nothing but wide and filled with lust with such an obscene gesture and words leaving past your lips was a sight to witness. He knows you don’t curse, but in bed, you miraculously do. And he fucking loves it too. 

“C’mere,” Joel shoves you towards himself, he wanted you to sit on his lap and so you did. Your breasts pressed against his chest. You felt fingertips tickling on each side of your thighs as he lifts the end of your white mini slip gown to remove the garment completely off of you. You were left in nothing but your white lace undergarment. How cute, it even has a tiny cross pendant that adorned underneath a tiny silk bow. He chuckled darkly at the sight. “You’re gonna fuckin’ ride me.”

You nodded your head so fast that you probably should be ashamed of yourself. You bite your bottom lip to refrain your contentment. You can feel your blood circulating towards your cheeks becoming warm and hot, flustered even. 

Using his index and middle finger, he hooked your damp panties that covered your sensitive cunt and pulled them aside. You can feel your own cunt coming in contact with the skin of his fingers. A shiver ran up and down your spine at his touch. His low humming was a pleasant melody to your ears. You lightly gasped at the sudden touch of his thumb pressing your swollen clit. Joel began to rub circular motions and watched how your body reacts. He knows you all too well, he just loves how your body twitches by the devil’s touch. 

“There we go…” he murmurs while focusing on that sweet spot of yours that is beginning to cause his mouth to water. Joel can feel his own erection twitch again with anticipation. His eyes fixated upon yours the entire time. He was prepping you for his cock that ached to be sucked inside of you. 

“That feels so g-good.” You softly moaned and placed your index knuckle in between your teeth to refrain from moaning out loud. The walls surrounding your room were rather dense that you can sometimes hear certain conversations from other neighbors. Eyes fluttered shut in order to concentrate on the way his calloused thumb skillfully flicks and rubs your clit.

“Yeah?” He purrs and pressed your clit harder. His thumb wandered towards your folds to then wet your sweet clit with your own juices to make rubbing easier. Joel smacks your hand away from your mouth which caught you by surprise. “I want to hear you, angel. Don’t be shy and let it all out f’me. Besides…” He brushes his thumb upon your wet swollen lips and you amorously suck your own taste off, releasing his thumb with a pop. A low hum vibrating from your throat, “…I want the neighbors to hear how good you’re ridin’ me.”

You felt his angry tip poke your entrance that glistened with your own natural lubricant. You are forced to lift yourself up to allow more room for his cock to comfortably slip inside of you. His fingers still hooking the fabric aside. You gasped as your jaw became slack at the way his thick length slowly stretched your inner walls. You watch as his cock slowly sinks and disappears into your aching entrance. As mentioned, you have done this plenty of times but his cock never fails to make you gasp every time at the sudden stinging sensation of the stretch. It’s bizarre. 

Joel chuckled darkly and began to thrust himself into you. He needed you to adjust to his length comfortably before anything else. The moment you feel comfortable, you sway your hips forward and backwards, soon bouncing freely against him. You felt every inch of his cock rubbing your warm stretched walls. The way the tip of his cock hits your cervix has your head spinning. Sweet moans and squeals escape past your lips. The lewd sounds of both your precum secreting together echoes.

Your arms wrap around his neck for support while his arms wrap around your waist, holding, guiding, and encouraging you to milk his cock deep. The sight of your own breasts bouncing to the rhythm and movement intoxicates Joel’s arousal. He did not hesitate to pinch and tease your hardened nipples. The pain enticing your mood. 

“Oh fuck right there, yes!” You cried as you continued to ride his cock. The way you grind against his lap got you both drowning in arousal. Skin tacky from the sudden heat mixed with sweat forming within you both. With each harsh thrust, oxygen hitches away from your lungs. It honestly felt like he was punching a hole inside of you. But the way his cock feels doing so was absolutely divine. 

“You’re doin’ so well baby girl.” You earned yourself a tight squeeze from both his hands that managed to slide down toward your ass. You smiled at his encouragement. He took the opportunity to plant another kiss upon your lips. His teeth nipping against your bottom lip, pulling the flesh teasingly.

“It feels so good, mmm, I need you…” You moaned into Joel’s mouth. You were too carried away pecking his lips a dozen times to finish your sentence. He slows his pace, wanting to hear the right words come out. 

“You need…?” He breathes and groans all against your pretty mouth. The way you paused from bouncing and focused on grinding against his lap ferociously while his cock stuck deep inside was driving him mad. In a matter of seconds he was going to spill his sticky seed.

“Cum inside me…p-please.” You begged and bat your eyes towards him, your doe eyes that were filled with nothing but inevitable lust told him everything he needed to know. The perfect green light but yet he still managed to tease the shit out of you, as per usual. 

“Mmm, don’t know about that.” He murmured as he paints a wicked grin across his face. The way your brows furrowed with a frustrated expression actually amused him. “C’mon…please…” 

A cry that seriously turned him on even more. To your sudden surprise, Joel switched positions where your back instantly touches your mattress. He grips your ankles and brings your legs up to hold you good. He removed your precious panty and tossed it somewhere behind him. You were too flooded with mixtures of sin and lust that all you were able to do was toggle a lazy wiggle from your hips, encouraging him to stick his cock back inside of you as quickly as possible. And so he did. 

Joel buries his cock deep inside of you and begins to roughly pound his hips against the back of your thighs, obtaining that tantalizing pace. You huff with each rhythm of his smack trying to fight back a moan but to no avail. It is certain that your neighbors can already hear your glorious cries. You’re too horny to even be embarrassed at this point. They were so sweet, so angelic which always drives Joel insane. He enjoyed stripping away your innocence. Always. 

“Look at you angel, takin’ this cock so well. Such a fuckin’ good girl. ” You felt nothing but a tight hand wrapped around your neck. His hand. All you could see were only stars, you began to feel dizzy. “My good fuckin’ girl.” 

You began to feel your climax almost pooling in. “Yes! Oh fuck…Joel! Baby, I’m gonna cum!” To help with that, you arched your back so that his cock can rub against that aching g-spot of yours. 

Just by his cock hitting your favorite spot had caused you to overstimulate. You frantically released your final loud moan that ringed against his ears. You felt like the earth had stopped spinning once that orgasm came crashing over your entire body that exploded into a blissful sensation. Your cunt clenching around his thick cock caused Joel to collapse right above you, spilling his load right inside of you coaxing a heavy groan against your ear. The warming sensation of his cum seeping inside eased your body. You thrust your hips forward to obtain that final aftershock. 

You felt Joel’s cock pulling right out of you along with some of his cum spilling out from your sore entrance. He laid right beside you to try and catch his breath. Rolling yourself, you stopped right on top, embracing him with a hug, never wanting to let him go.

 “Like I said, I don’t care what anyone thinks.” Joel kisses the side of your head, pulling you closer to him. 

“I’m yours and you’re mine.” You lovingly whispered.

You earned yourself a warm smile from the devil. A smile only you’re able to witness alone. “Let’s get you cleaned up, angel.”

[rougerave]

I think it's fairly common knowledge the Alfred Pennyworth has some sort of background with Mi6, the Queens guard or WW2. I mean no old man has the type of precision with a gun unless you were trained, and no one is that okay with treating server injuries that quickly and calmly.

With this being said I think it would be pretty funny if all the batkids just dropped the mantle around 18 and just disappeared only to come back from military tour two years later with a new batch of trauma and new and improved ways to give their father pre-mature gray hairs by joining some form of government secret service.

Take Dick for example. He joined the police force at some point (cannon), but like what if he move on the be an FBI agent. It would be so funny to see Bruce try to persuade Dick by saying that he'll retire the bat. (Dick would laugh in his face for a period of three hours.)

This would then establish a sort of tradition with all his kids, much to his dismay and Alfred's endless joy (and boundless amusement).

Like Jason, fresh from League training, joins the army, finishes his tour, goes to England and joins the Mi6 and then comes home only to see his dad's reaction. (Bruce's reaction to Dick joining the FBI was a constant source of amusement for him. And he has to make sure he helps in the campaign to get Bruce to retire the bat early.)

Tim joins the CIA. ( I feel this one is self explanatory when it come to Tim.)

Cass and Steph go the Australia and join ASIS (Australian Secret Intelligence Service).

Duke joins Jason in England but he joins Mi5.

Damian goes to Israel and joins Mossad (Foreign Intelligence and Special Operations).

By the time Damian leaves the nest, Bruce has salt and pepper hair at 54 from the stress and has officially retired from the bat.

Alfred is eternally grateful that his 20 year plan has worked, and that he now has people to go the the open field and shot cans with twice a month. (It turns into a competition that Alfred always wins even when his age starts to catch up and he starts to lose his site.)

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

Every step to win your heart.

König x FEM reader.

Short version, your little crush turned into a dark obsession with this big guy. You weren't expecting he could actually fall for you.

Warning: Stalking, spying, mentions of drugs, Grammatical and spelling errors, image not mine. I think there's no specific description of the reader so you can read it as a Neutral too.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

König barely goes to his house, he prefers to work without stopping. But after almost 4 months without appearing there he decides after this mission he would take some rest.

You've been observing him for a while, you're like his shadow, poor guy, he doesn't even know about your existence but you already know some good things about him.

His morning routine, his favorite fruit, the size of his clothes and combat boots, you already know that he likes the cloth softener with that baby smell, you know he prefers the minimalism deco at home, he doesn't like the raw yolk egg and sometimes he simply eats the egg white with fresh grounded black pepper and salt, he eats pancakes and waffles without honey or any other topping, coffee needs to be black without sugar but if you offer him some tea he likes with two teaspoons of sugar and a little bit of milk.

How do you know all these things about him without even talking to him? Simple, you've been following him everywhere, spying on him, of course in your mind everything is innocent, you can't see the dark side of your obsession. All started after he saved you, you were a hostage a few years ago, he arrived and rescued you and your parents, he was kind and very protective over you and the other hostages, you couldn't avoid developing feelings for the man.

It was hard to find him, his name and everything about his personal information was a secret, until one day you saw a man, tall and muscular, bright dark brown hair, blue eyes and a perfect nose, some scars accentuating his features just walking by the street, he went inside a grocery store and bought a bottle of sparkling water, you weren't sure but something told you that body and the way he was walking was familiar to you, quickly you crossed the street and went inside the grocery store too, observing him more close, definitely was him, you confirmed it after you heard his accent and his voice.

That was the beginning, you quickly understood he was rarely at home, you found his address walking behind him, you saw where he usually saved his keys, he never felt your presence you were quiet and discreet so it was easy, you passed a great part of your time spying on him, if you weren't working you were searching and spying.

Today is the day of your master plan, you've been waiting for him out of the base where he works, you know he's there, finally at 19:00h, he appears with another man, not so tall and with asiatic features, both talk and then say goodbye, that's when you turned on your car and started to drive slow, you know he lives close to his work so he simply walks, he enjoys to walk everywhere.

Once you're sure he will go directly to home you drive fast to arrive before him, you park in front of his house, no one is out observing you, so you quickly pinched your car's tire and ran quickly to König's principal door, you put a strange liquid on the lock and handgrip, it's simply to make him faint, then you go back to the car, now you wait to see him arrive and ask him for help.

There he comes, his face is serious and lacklustre, you leave the car and ask him for help.

- Hey, excuse me, I'm so sorry to bother you but could you help me? I have a flat tire and I don't know how to fix it, my phone's dead and you're the first person I see walking here...

Clearly annoyed he agrees and asks you to give him your Toolbox and spare tire. While he holds the tire you decide to put some more liquid on the tools he will be using to fix that flat tire.

König doesn't feel any effect until he finishes his work with your tires, you're very friendly and somehow he feels like he has seen you before but doesn't know where or when.

-Ja, Kein Problem (yes, no problem)... Ah...Have I seen you before?

You offer him a kind smile and before you can answer you can see his face, he doesn't feel well. König feels like his head is spinning and feels sleepy, he doesn't say anything else and simply walks as fast as possible to his door, he opens it with a lot of difficulty but once the door is open, he falls on the floor.

You quickly walk to him, once you're sure he's not hurt you drag him inside the house, it was more difficult that you expected but finally he's on his bed. You close his bedroom door and go quickly to grab his backpack and park your car in his garage.

König wakes up feeling nauseous as if he drank too much the previous night or something, then after a couple minutes he realizes he slept in underwear, he doesn't remember when he changed his clothes, his head hurts, his boots are clean and in his usual place, why can't he remember when he did all those things? Finally, the sound of music catches his attention, He's not alone.

Quickly but silently he tries to stand up and tries to grab a small gun he has under the nightstand beside his bed, unfortunately he realizes he's chained to the bed, he thinks he's not being listened to but in fact you already heard him, you're simply finishing to decorate his plate for the breakfast, after a few minutes he can hear steps walking through the corridor of his house, the music comes from the kitchen and it's not only music, the smell of food fills his lungs and then a voice, singing.

What the hell is going on? You're standing on his bedroom door with a tray full of meals, He observes your body and the way you move, you're very pretty but... Why are you there? Are you dangerous? What do you want from him?. You gasp a little excited, he's awake, but sadly he doesn't seem happy.

- Who are you? What are you doing in my house and what do you want from me?

- Hi, you're finally awake, I'm y/n and I bring you the breakfast... König calm down please.

Your pleading eyes can't convince him, he needs more answers.

- What do you want from me? HOW DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? TELL ME!

- I... I can explain it, just... Calm down... I'm not a menace.

he quickly considered his options and then he nodded. You point at his bed to indicate you will put the tray there.

He doesn't look at somewhere else but your eyes, he's focused on your eyes. Once the tray is over the bed you step back, you're ready to explain yourself but the sea of questions starts again.

- How do I know you will not try to poison me? What do you want from me?

- Eat first, I spent the whole morning cooking all your favorite meals. You haven't eaten since... God knows when.

He finally looks at the tray in front of him, indeed, there's a lot of food, all his favorites for breakfast, but then he looks at you, his look says he still doesn't trust in your word.

- König, if I wanted to hurt you I could do it while you were... Unconscious, instead of that, I cleaned the fresh wound you have on your bicep and your thigh, I cleaned your boots and knives, your laundry and I cooked for you. Once again, I'm not a menace.

He takes the plate and before starting to eat he sees a small note at one side of the plate «welcome home 🩷». Home? When was the last time someone felt happy to see him? When was the last time he felt that his house was actually a home? For him it was just the place where he can go whenever he feels seriously tired of his comrades at work.

His thoughts are interrupted by you when he listens to your question.

- Is it good? I hope it tastes good...I tried to make it in the way you usually do it.

He can't lie, it actually tastes better than when he cooks.

- Yes, it is. Can you tell me what you want now?

- It's a long story... But I've been looking for you, observing you, following you since... I don't know, maybe you don't remember but you saved me and my parents and some other hostages, we were in a hotel, you saved us.

- Ja! I remember, it was like 5 years ago. So what?

- Well, maybe for you it was as any other successful mission, but for me it was... A realization about the kind of man I wanted for me. You stole my heart, König.

You approach König who's now observing you as if you were insane, you slowly kneel down in from of him.

- I looked for you, for months until I found you, then I started to follow you everywhere, learning about you, the things you like, the thing you hate, your story, who you were when you were young, what you did during your young years...

He's quiet, he can't believe your words, your innocent look is adorable and almost convincing but all this 'love' that turned into something else, something dark but strangely... Attractive, makes him feel out of place, something unexpected.

Of course women approach him occasionally, but he never gives them a chance, he has always been alone, he never thought someone could give him love, that's why he never went through relationships or meeting people in a romantic way. Now you're here, in front him, you literally kidnapped him in his own house to finally introduce yourself, talking about love, is he dreaming?

- König, I know maybe it wasn't a good way to do it and you have all the reasons to not trust me, but I noticed when women try to get close to you, you leave, I didn't want you to run away...

- I don't run, I just reject them. Do you think I'm a man who can have love? I am not the man you created in your head.

He says it without caring, he doesn't even look at you, but it's not because he doesn't care, he wants to know if you're talking seriously.

- You're. I Know very well who you are... and if you want to reject me, fine. But I'm not going to give up, do you understand? When I want something I get it in a way or another.

- Is that a menace, Liebling?

He finally stares at you, your look is not bright and innocent, is dark, determined and cold.

- It's a warning, baby. So, you have two options, give me a chance now that I'm doing everything for the good way or call the police and send me away, but trust me when I say this. Your missions will be the least of your problems, I will not give up, you will not keep me away, I'll be there, I'll be like your shadow, hunting you, step by step until I can finally call you mine.

König smirks. You unchained him from the bed and walked away, he stays there thinking about you and your words, he can't lie to himself. You're pretty, hot and you look smart, the determination in your eyes and voice, you send shivers through his spine, he continues eating, after all, you spend the morning cooking, for him, you cooked for him, no one cared about him in that way, the few times he tried to be with a woman, they don't even offer him a glass of water or show at least a little bit of affection, they just wanted a quick fuck.

Now you're here, craving for his acceptance, for his affection. He's not afraid of you or your warnings, he simply thinks he's not in a position to reject you.

He walks to the kitchen and there you are Washing dishes and singing in a low voice. He stops and observes you, such a tiny doll, he could easily erase you from the map, but, he already made a decision.

He slowly walks to you, at this point you already feel his presence, you're waiting for his next move. Suddenly a pair of strong arms are around your waist, the warmth of his Chest and abdomen is pressed against your back.

You waited for this moment, since he appeared in your life, you saw this moment in your dreams, now it's happening, you close your eyes and slowly turn to him, you return the hug.

- You have one chance, that's all.

- I'll make it worth.

You kept your promise, it was slow since he was in long missions, but he started to enjoy the attention you had with him. When he was at home you had plenty of dates and time together, sometimes he was concerned about how jealous and possessive you could be but he admitted, it was a great feeling.

Every time he was back in the base he called you to let you know he was alive, when he would be at home and to know how you were doing.

Once you knew he would be at home, you cleaned the entire house and spent your day cooking, you bought him flowers, beer, candles and prepared him a hot bath.

When he arrived at the door you always jumped on him, kissing his face, he loved it, König never expected he could actually feel that happiness, eventually he invited you to meet some of his colleagues, everybody adored you, he was a proud man, he loved you, he fell hard for you.

[msgexymunson]

Forbidden Fruit Part 3

Description: as you and Eddie's relationship gets more complicated, can you keep it under wraps? 

A/N: You guys, seriously. I want to kiss you all with tongues. I'm basking in your love for this Eddie. This has turned into a full blown saga. You blow my mind, I'm so happy you guys like it. I'm waffling here I'm sure, this was going to be a 4 part series but I have too much to say so it's turning into 5 parts!! If you like it, please comment and reblog, it makes my entire year!!

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI or I'll spank you and not in a nice way, age gap (Eddies 43, reader 21), p in v unprotected sex, male and female oral receiving, edging, I think that's it? 

5k words

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

The room is dimly lit and soaked in the stench of sex, the air so humid you could slice it up and serve it to the hungry, or at least the horny. Entwined in Eddie's lap on his armchair, your sweaty skin is sticking together and ungluing at each roll of your hips. He's gripping you harshly by the thighs, thumbs pushing bruises into the soft flesh. You barely noticed. 

He's already released inside you, it's dripping down your cunt and onto his lap, being smeared against his thighs and tight stomach. Your moans are reaching a crescendo as your fourth, or fifth, orgasm of the evening is building from deep within your core. 

Nails dragging along his shoulders, you beg for your release. 

"Oh Eddie, I'm so close, so fuckin' close, please, talk to me." 

Eddie's gone, mouth hanging open, forehead scrunched tight as he tries to focus on what you've said. 

"Wha-what d-do you wanna hear?" He battles out, on the verge of drooling. 

"Eddie, just, fuck, tell me things, I like it when you talk to me." 

Eddie stutters out, "h-hey hot stuff." 

Letting out a belly laugh you stop your movements, shaking with your amusement. 

"Hey hot stuff?!" You giggle, running a sticky hand through Eddie's salt and pepper hair, "are you from a 50s cartoon?" 

"I panicked! You put me on the spot. Fuck, stop laughing your clenching my dick, fuck!" 

That only served to make your laughs louder, giggling uncontrollably. It's too much for him, stuttering out a premature release deep inside you. 

You're too tickled to care, laugh continuing, making his seed spill out as your squeeze. He laughs too then, pulling you to him in a bone crunching embrace. He breathes in your scent, nose pushing into the crook of your neck. 

"I wish you could stay." 

The laughter subsides at his confession. You pull away to cradle his cheek, eyes brimming with tears at your outburst, and with something else you weren't prepared to admit just yet. 

"So do I, but I've gotta go home." 

He looks up into your eyes, hand coming up to cup your cheek, mirroring your movements. 

"Just once, I want to wake up with you in my bed, where you belong." Stomach fluttering at his words, you can only sigh in response. You'd both spent the last three months trying to avoid those sorts of words. Three months of sneaking around, of carnal bliss.   

Back to reality. 

You peel yourself off of him before you both say something you regret. 

"Right, I better clean up." He waves his arm at you, gesturing for you to go ahead, though he doesn't look at you. 

After a quick shower, you find your clothes all around the house, where you'd flung them a few hours ago. 

Returning to the living room, you see Eddie in his underwear, head in his hands. 

"You OK baby?" 

He lifts up, flashing you a winning grin, eyes crinkling. It looks forced, but you don't push it. 

"I'm great sweetheart. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" 

"Sure." You smile back, making your way towards him to give him a quick kiss to his full lips. Walking back to the door frame, about to make your exit through the back door, you turn at the last minute. 

"See you later, hot stuff." 

Eddie laughs and throws a cushion at you, missing by a hair. "Bye sweetheart." 

Sneaking out into the night air, you wipe back an errant tear. 

Fuck, this was getting complicated. What the hell am I doing? Catching feelings for this man. 

You breathe, steady yourself, and walk silently over to your house. 

********************

Excitement bubbling in your chest, you had an idea you knew Eddie was going to love. You spin your car keys in your hand,  practically skipping to his back door.

And fling it open. 

And see your Dad, sitting on a chair opposite Eddie, drinking a beer. 

'Dad!" You squeak, surprise lacing your voice entirely uninvited. 

"Hey honey, what are you doing here?" He's smiling, but confused. 

Think, you need to think, before he does! 

"I was-" you spy your keys in your hand, an idea striking you suddenly, "I was giving my keys to Ed- to Mr Munson. He was going to give my car a once over, weren't you?" Your eyes flash over to Eddie, to plead with him. He owned the auto shop after all. It almost appalled you how quickly the lie had come.

"Of course sweetheart, get it fixed up real nice for you." 

He holds his hand up and you toss your keys over to him. He grips them with no issue and shoves them in a pocket without a further glance towards you. 

"Well that's mighty sweet of you Eddie." Your father beams at his friend, his best friend. 

"No worries, you know I'm here to help." His best smile, his forced one, is flashed at your Dad, not you. 

"Thanks Mr Munson!" You chime out and leave swiftly, running back to your house and your room, with a sigh of relief. 

Fuck that was close. 

You were sick of this. Sick of the tiptoeing around, of the games, the lies. It was becoming more and more tempting to just admit everything, consequences be damned. You're a grown woman after all. 

You need to speak with Eddie. 

********************

The following evening you're sitting cross legged on your bed, studying. 

Familiar boots are clomping up the stairs. Looking up, you hear the softest knock at your door. 

"Come in Eddie." 

The door swings open. He enters, and shuts it, tossing your keys on the bed. 

"I'm sick of this sweetheart." 

Looking up at him, he looks defeated. You're dreading the next words you're sure are about to spill from his lips. The lips you had kissed a thousand times, that you want to kiss a thousand times more. But they aren't what you expect. 

"Do you want to go away with me this weekend? I've booked a hotel, a nice one. Friday night and Saturday night." 

Relief flooding your chest, you grin up at him. 

"That sounds real nice Eddie." 

"Good. I'll see you soon sweetheart." 

He plants a kiss to your lips, a soft one, full of hope and promise. It's a start.

*********************

As you got into your car, you noticed it had been cleaned. Thoroughly. Shaking your head, you start it up, and start to drive to where Eddie had asked to meet you. He'd been awfully mysterious about the whole thing, only serving to peak your curiosity further. 

It even drives nicer too. 

You're not sure what he'd done, but it didn't surprise you. Mr Fix It. Humming satisfaction, you pull into a parking lot of what looked like a very swish hotel, all gold fixtures and huge glass windows. 

Surely he's not booked this place?

You'd almost expected a motel, or at least a chain place. This looked fancy. 

When you're exiting your car, grabbing your overnight bag, you spot Eddie's pick up, and a familiar figure leaning against it. 

Fuck, he's so handsome. 

Every time you see him, it feels like the first time. His hair is a halo around him, glowing in the waning light of the sun. You look at those toned arms, one around his middle, the other holding a cigarette to his lips, and wet your lips. 

Almost stumbling towards him, you watch as his face splits into a childlike grin, broad and genuine. As you approach, you spot the deep lines around his eyes, the bags beneath them. It looks like he's not getting enough sleep. 

As soon as you're in range he wraps his arms around your middle, pulling you into his body close. Stiffening for just a moment, you melt at his words. 

"It's OK baby, no one knows us here. I missed you." 

"Missed you too. What did you do to my car?" 

"Had it cleaned. Changed the oil. Replaced the brake pads." 

"Eddie what do I owe-" 

"Shut up. You don't owe me a thing." 

You break away to touch a kiss on the tip of his nose. 

"Thank you." 

"You're welcome." He grabs your bag before you can protest, shouldering it, and holding his bag in the same hand so he can hold your hand in the other. 

"Follow my lead, OK?" 

You nod, perplexed but trusting, as you reach the grand doorway. Eddie releases your hand briefly to open the door for you, and he ushers you inside. 

"Hey, Mr Munson here, checking in?" He nods at the hotel check in staff, arm wrapping around your shoulders. 

The check in guy, a skinny guy with tousled blond hair grins at you both. 

"Ah, Mr and Mrs Munson! Welcome! I spoke with you on the phone." 

Mrs Munson??

Eddie grins and holds you closer. 

"Oh yeah, Carl right? We're here to check in." 

"Oh course, honeymoon suite eh? Well, here is your key, there's a little surprise waiting for you. It's all paid up, just use the elevator to your left. Thank you for staying with us." 

He winks at you both as Eddie takes the key and turns you towards the elevator. 

"Mrs-" you begin, but Eddie grips your shoulder, which is enough to silence you. 

"Thanks Carl, appreciate it." He throws over his shoulder, steering you. 

The elevator ride is silent as Eddie grins at you in the mirror. It even smells fancy, air laced with sweetness and flowers. 

Reaching the room, he holds the door open for you. Your breath stops in your throat at the sight, letting out a gasp.

As you walk in, you take in the sheer size of it. This wasn't a room, it was a whole damn apartment. 

Fresh flowers sit in a glass vase as you enter, coating the place with the soft fragrance of rose and lily. Once you're in the room proper, you notice the sheer size of the bed, a monstrosity you're sure they must have craned in here, covered in crisp linen sheets and soft rose petals. The carpet feels plush, making you conscious of how dirty your sneakers were. The whole place looked so expensive, you were afraid to touch it. 

On a solid wood sideboard by the wall was an ice bucket, a bottle of champagne inside it. Two fluted glasses sat either side. You pick up the card leaning against it, and read it aloud. 

"Congratulations Mr and Mrs Munson, enjoy the champagne, with compliments from the management team. Care to explain, Eddie?" 

He looks sheepish, scratching his neck, bags abandoned at his feet. 

"I told them we eloped, and had to book a last minute honeymoon, and they were kind enough to give me this suite at the normal room rate." 

"Sneaky fucker." You grin, wrapping your arms around his neck, "Thank you, it's gorgeous." 

"You're welcome. Hope you don't mind playing the wife when we're downstairs?" 

Stomach erupting in butterflies, you reply, "not at all, sounds like fun." 

Pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, curiosity gets the best of you. 

"If I was your wife, and this was our honeymoon, what would you do?" 

A playful smirk pulls at his lips. "Well, first of all, I would have carried you in here, but I suppose I can start now." He bends suddenly and lifts you up, earning a surprised shriek from you. 

"I would put you on the bed, like this," he says in his running commentary, placing you down amongst the rose petals with exaggerated care, "and I would kiss you, like this." 

He softly strokes your face as he leans over you, and his lips brush your cheek, so lightly it was as if you'd imagined it. Then a further feather light touch to your jaw, and another at the corner of your mouth. The care he's taking has your heart flip flopping in your chest. 

When he envelops you in a sensual kiss, it astonishes you. He's usually so rough and primal, but this is different. You lose yourself in his kiss, in the fantasy. For a moment, you really are his newly wed wife laying in your marital bed. 

Opening your mouths to each other, his tongue massages yours ever so slowly, as if he has all the time in the world. Passion is rolling off of that tongue, every word that had been unspoken before this moment flows into you, forcing an errant tear to roll from your eye and down your temple. 

He breaks the kiss and stares into your eyes as they flutter open. If he notices your tear, he doesn't mention it. His hand brushes a couple of straggling hairs away from your face, his soft brown eyes boring into your own. 

"Then," he whispers, voice bordering on cracking, you notice, "I would worship your body, exactly the way you deserve sweetheart." 

"Eddie," you whisper back. "Show me." 

His lips find yours again, just as sweetly, but with an undercurrent of desire burning within it. 

A large hand drifts to your shirt, popping open the first button, then the second, then the third. Black lace and satin is displayed as the shirt falls open, the new bra you bought especially for him. Humming his approval, he traces the edge with his finger. 

"You get this just for me baby?" He smirks, fingers running back and forth, sending pinpricks of heat across your chest. 

"Y-yes" you stammer out, squirming under his gaze. 

"Already stuttering? I've not even touched you yet." 

Usually you'd bite back at a smug comment like that, instigating the push and pull game you two often played. Not today though. You merely whine as his hand palms your breast over the soft fabric. 

Moving down your frame, he leaves gentle kisses to your collarbone, your sternum, the top of each breast. 

"Fuck you are so beautiful." Hand tracing the swell of each breast, he moves it lower, traversing your stomach, making muscles flex under his movements. Unbuttoning your jeans with practised actions, he sees the front of your panties peeking out of their denim confines. 

"Matching? That's sweet of you." 

Just him pressing a kiss to your clothed mound and running his tongue under the hem of your underwear has you wriggling. He laughs softly and gets up to your dismay. 

He doesn't go far. Just to the foot of the bed, taking your feet in his hands one by one and removing your shoes and socks. A kiss is even placed delicately on the top of each foot. 

"Eddie, my feet are all gross." You half laugh and half cringe. 

Looking shocked up at you, he responds, "Sweetheart, they're not gross, they're your feet. I'd suck your toes if you asked me to." 

"Eddie!" You shriek, hiding in your hands. 

"What? Some people like that kinda thing." 

He removes his own boots, socks and shirt, leaving him standing over you in just his jeans. Every time you see his naked torso it has you panting, wanting. The curves of his muscles that react so well under your fingertips. The tattoos that you have kissed a thousand times. The happy trail that you want to run your tongue over, and down, down, down. 

He straddles your lap then, pulling you up to take off your shirt, holding you close to unclip your bra and gently drag it down your arms, whispering over your skin. 

Stopping for a moment, he looks you in the eyes, hand cupping your chin. 

"Eddie, I-" but you never finish your sentence, as his other hand has reached your breast, tweaking your bare nipple suddenly. You breathe out a gasp as he hums in satisfaction. 

Pecking a tiny kiss to the end of your nose he says softly, "lie back princess." 

Complying, you snuggle into the downy pillows.  

He's on you then, mouthing at your breasts, tongue running around your nipples, nipping, sucking. 

"Oh God, Eddie!" Reaching to his toned chest he bats your hands away. 

"Nuh uh sweetheart, no touching. Just enjoy it." 

Huffing, you put your hands to your sides, balling them into tiny fists. 

Starting to move lower, he kisses your stomach, and leaves little love bites on your hip bones. 

"These are really pretty." Hooking rough fingers into your panties, he starts to pull them down, then looks up at you in surprise. 

"You shaved?" 

"Yeah, I-I thought- I thought you might like it." 

"You went all out for me didn't you princess?" He's flashing you a lazy grin, teeth showing as his tongue licks his lower lip, sucking it between his teeth as if he can't believe his luck. 

Then your panties are on the floor and his head is buried between your thighs, tongue lapping, lips kissing, fingers dancing over your skin. Stubble is burning the tops of your thighs but you can't find it in you to care, legs tightening around his head as if you relish the burn.

The coil in your stomach is tightening, about to burst out. Legs quivering around Eddie's head of their own accord. 

"You about to come baby?" 

You whine, knowing he won't take that, he never does. 

"Y-yes Eddie, fuck-" He pulls away at the last minute. 

"Eddie what the hell?" You lean up on your elbows, sending him an admonishing glare. 

He laughs, a self satisfied smirk plastered over his face that makes your belly warm. 

"I'm worshipping you sweetheart. You trust me?" 

"Yes." You say, without hesitation, quicker than you would answer anyone with that question. So quickly it shocks you a little. 

"Then just enjoy it. I'm gonna build you up sweetheart, ok? Just trust me. Tell me when you're close." 

You nod your agreement as he bends in between your spread legs again, kissing you all over. 

His tongue is breaching your hole, licking your wetness as his fingers glide over your swollen clit sending sparks of sensation through you. 

Your orgasm creeps up impressively fast, rippling through your nerves. It takes a lot to tell him, but you have to. 

"Eddie, I'm close- so close, fuck!" You slam your fists into the bed as he pulls away and laughs. 

"Oh, poor baby, it's OK, this is gonna feel real good." His mocking tone is everything. It shouldn't turn you on this much but it does. 

"Eddie, please, oh please, I need to come, please make me come!" You reach for the back of his head but he swats your hands away again. 

"What did I tell you? Behave. Next time I'll have to tie you up." 

A guttural moan escapes your throat at the thought of being tied up, at his mercy.

"Oh, you like that idea? Dirty girl."

He looks at you with pride, thick fingers stroking through your wet heat and finding their mark. He slides two fingers in with ease, your dripping arousal slicking his fingers as he curls them up inside and presses his other hand to your lower stomach, forcing you into the bed. Full lips wrap around your clit suckling softly as the pressure mounts inside, harder than you've ever felt. 

"Fuck, its too much, I can't-"

He breaks his lips away from you for a second, hot breath on your cunt as his fingers push into that spot that has you reeling. 

"You can. You can take it. Let go. Come for me." 

The feeling of his fingers is all consuming. An embarrassing full sensation is boiling in your gut beginning to lash out. You moan, fingers clenching onto the bedclothes, white knuckled. Your vision is darkening at the edges as spots dance and swirl over your eyes. 

The wetness hits first before the feeling reaches its true crescendo, shooting out of your cunt in a gush of slick, enough to force Eddie's fingers from you. The flat of his tongue still presses harshly on your clit as you ride his mouth shamelessly. 

Then it washes over you. Wave after wave of intense pleasure, a hurricane force of ecstasy. Your back arches off the bed as you scream and babble his name over and over in a prayer to his prowess. 

Finally collapsing into a sweat soaked, slick covered heap, your entire body relaxes, tension everywhere dissipated. There's nothing, not a thought in your head, except for a slight tingle saying you should really look up and, well, thank him. Not that you can move right now. Your neck feels about as substantial as a soap bubble. 

Then, Eddie's hovering over you, wiping tears from your face that you hadn't been aware of until now. Refocusing your vision, you finally take him in. 

"What the hell- that was- holy-" words are hard. Breathing is harder.

Eddie chuckles, leaving a light dusting of kisses to your cheek and jaw, like freshly fallen snow. 

"You," he says between pecks, "squirted. Hard. Jesus sweetheart, you're perfect." 

You'd expect a smug grin, that self satisfied smirk you've seen a hundred times, but he looks almost in awe of you. 

"Thank you." It comes out as a croak. 

He falls to the side of you, scooping you up in his arms and holds you close to his chest. 

"Anytime sweetheart." 

********************

An executive decision was made between the two of you; whilst you both appreciated that there was a first class swanky restaurant downstairs, that would mean actually leaving the bed. Neither of you were prepared to do this however, so it would have to wait until tomorrow night. 

Right now, room service, soft hotel dressing gowns and pay per view were much more inviting. So, appetites sated, you cosied up to each other, flicking through the options on the TV. 

"What you in the mood for, horror, or-" 

"Or sci fi, I love both really." 

"Really?" He hugs you closer. "I knew there was a reason I liked you." 

"Oh, the mind blowing sex is nothing to do with it, huh?" You smirk, poking him in the ribs. 

"You wound me sweetheart. Hey, what about Alien? Sci fi and horror."

"I've never actually seen it." You admit. 

"Really? It's a classic!" 

"Sorry but it came out before I was born, you know!" 

"Fuck." He puts the remote to the side and turns to face you. 

"Listen, sweetheart. Have you thought about, well, us?" 

"What do you mean?" You ask, tilting your head to face him.

"I mean, if we did come clean. Aren't you worried at all what people might think of you? About your reputation?" 

Laughing out loud, you swat his chest with your hand, letting it linger there. 

"I don't give a damn about my reputation!" 

"Alright Joan Jett!" He chuckles, holding your hand and bringing it to his lips. He holds it there as he continues. 

"I just don't know if you've thought about us, you know, walking down the street. People looking, asking each other if that old man's her partner or her father." 

You look at him then, really look at him. He's frowning, deep lines etched into his brow, eye wrinkles deepened by worry. Reaching to his face, you stroke his salt and pepper stubble, rough against your smooth hand. His hair has the same streaks, though not as prominent. There's no denying he's much older than you, but nothing could stop you being anything other than entirely enamoured with him. He is ruggedly handsome; those deep brown eyes of his bore into your soul, each look making your heart jump and your thighs clench. 

"Eddie, I don't care. I lo… I really care about you. So much. I don't give a fuck what people might think. I just- I want you to be mine. Not a doubt in my mind." 

The look he's giving you softens and he brings you in for the softest kiss to your lips. He's pulling away, but you're deepening the kiss, climbing into his lap, hands holding his face. 

Then, you move lower, planting kisses to his jaw, his chin, and his neck. Sucking a bruise into the side of his throat, your teeth graze him as he hisses at the contact. 

"Sweetheart, what are you doing?" He asks, amused. 

"Shh baby, I'm worshipping." You smile into his neck, pulling his dressing gown to the side and sinking your teeth into the join of his neck and shoulder. 

"Fuck, princess, I'm sure I was more delicate." He huffs a laugh, but his breathing is laboured and his face is flushing. 

"Yeah, but I'm catering my worship. I know you like it like this." 

Sitting up, you pull his gown open, raking fingernails over his chest. 

"Holy hell- sweetheart, you ain't wrong." 

The gown you're wearing is slung to the floor, leaving you nude, straddling his hardening cock. Eddie's hands reach out as if on instinct and it gives you great pleasure to swat them away. 

"Nuh uh. No touching." 

"Rude." 

"Fair." You counter, positioning yourself in between his legs. Fingers trace his tattoos, his abs. Your tongue runs along in their wake, stopping to nip and suck. One spot has him flexing his muscles, a rushing groan runs from his throat. You can't help but notice his dick twitching under you. 

Moving further, you draw his skin into your mouth once more, leaving hickies on his hip bones, mirroring the marks he left on you. 

Hovering over his throbbing member, you breathe over it, hot breath fanning over the tip. 

"Fuck, sweetheart!" 

He almost looks angry as you look up to him, veins protruding in his neck. 

"You OK baby?" You frown, hand reaching down to cup at his balls and squeezing gently. 

"Oh my God, yes, just, please." 

Smiling, you continue to fondle him, and take the tip into your mouth, sucking softly, tasting salt and flesh and Eddie. Grunting his approval, you feel fingers graze the back of your head, until he remembers and tears them away reluctantly. 

Humming amusement at his predicament, you take more and more of him into your mouth, swallowing around his length. Hips buck up a little into you, making you shove him down with your free hand. 

Rolling the tip around and around in your mouth, you lick at the slit. Every movement has Eddie making little noises in his mouth, tiny shakes beginning to take over his thighs. 

You take him deep again, up and down, spreading your spit around the base as makeshift lube as you hollow your cheeks. 

"Sweetheart, that's so good, look at me." 

Eyes flash up to meet his, staring up through lashes dewed with tears. 

"Fuck, my dirty fucking girl. Can you take a little more?" 

Maintaining eye contact, you take him all the way to the base, squeezing a thumb in the palm of your hand to distract you. Even so, you can't help but gag a little around his intimidating length. 

"Fuck, sweetheart- that's- oh God" He's stammering, breathing heavy as more pre cum hits the back of your throat. 

Continuing to work at his length, tightening your grip on his balls, it's not long until you hear him again. 

"I'm gonna cum-" 

And you pull away. 

"Fuck!" His head thumps against the pillow, fists tight and hard on the bed. 

"I guess I fuckin' deserve that, huh?" 

You giggle devious, kitten licking at his shaft. 

"Poor baby. It's gonna feel real good, promise." Winking at him, he shakes his head, hand coming up to hold his forehead. 

Mouth on his tip again, sucking, licking. He's moaning louder, stomach shining with a thin layer of sweat. The deeper it goes, the more he groans, until you feel him twitching in your throat again, his noises becoming urgent, more high pitched. 

As you release your grip on him again, he grunts in exasperation. 

"Don't try sneaking it out Eddie, I can tell you know." 

"I know, just, please, I can't. I- just, please!" 

He's never looked so desperate, torso flushed in exertion, hands grasping at the bed sheets urgently, chest heaving with ragged breaths. 

You take one of his balls in your mouth, hand working his shaft, a teasing thumb rubbing over the wetness of his head. He's whimpering now, a sound you've never heard from him, but fuck, it's so pretty. 

An idea strikes you suddenly. Holding onto his shaft, you stare straight up at him, and spit onto his swollen head, hard. The noise that escapes him is nearly inhuman; a guttural, animal noise. A desperate noise. 

You take him once more into your mouth, your lips smearing your spit all over him, and swallow around his length, again and again. That does it. He cries out your name as he releases into you, spurting cum deep in your throat, over and over. The volume is truly tough to take, it just keeps coming. 

Swallowing until you can't help but splutter, you pull away, wiping your mouth of what you couldn't take. 

Sitting back on your heels, you admire your handiwork. 

Fuck I think I broke him. 

He's not moved, arms spread in supplication on the bed, eyes unfocused, chest still heaving. 

The look on his face as he finally registers you when you're leaning over him is priceless. You want to save it in your head, frame it, immortalise it forever. 

"Hey baby, you good?" You ask, giving him soft kisses. 

"Hmmm. You- you're so fuckin' special" He manages, a clumsy hand reaching to stroke your face and nearly missing. 

Laughs bubble up as you stroke his hair out of his face. 

"So, we'll watch Alien, yeah?" 

Eddie stares at you like you've grown two heads. 

"Just- give me a second, sweetheart." More panting breaths. "I think you just sucked out my soul." 

Giggling hysterically, you lay next to him and cradle his head to your chest. The movie can wait a minute. 

Tag list (if you want to stay please reblog my sweethearts!) 

@hereforshmut @g4ys0n @winchester-angel @eddiemunson95 @corrodedcoffincumslut @shazzie33 @severusswife @daluamaia1 @callsignraver @lightvixxen @newlips @eddiethefreakkmunson @hollster88 @ali-r3n @bebe07011 @roanniom @eddiesprincess86 @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @daisyridleyyyy @lolalanaie @dandelionnfluff @latedawnsearlysunsets92 @luv-flor7777 @topaz1983 @pixxie2004 @harmfulb1tch @findmeincorneliastreet @eddies-puppet @fertilitygodkiszka @freshsagegarden

[salchat]

This is my tiny, innocent Dean. I've drawn him for the story I'm working on at the moment, which I'm having tremendous fun with! It's a version of Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca and is my first venture into the omegaverse, because I needed Dean to be the young omega who gets swept off his feet by the older, widowed Castiel Novak.

It could be a couple of weeks before I begin posting, because I have quite a few things to work out. I may add some Secret Garden to the mix, or a dash of Jane Eyre, just for fun. But one thing's for sure - the path to true love will not run smooth! This relationship is going to have a lot of issues to work through!

Anyway, if you'd like to read a scene, there's one below the cut...

The maitre d’s voice rang through the dining room.  “Alpha Castiel Novak!”

“Oh, good heavens!”  Mrs Butters’ shrill exclamation jolted Dean out of his daydreams.  “It's Castiel Novak! No, don't look!”

He had no intention of looking.  It’d just be another more-money-than-sense alpha knothead, puffing himself up to be admired and fawned over.  Dean didn’t give a shit.  Whereas Mrs B wet her panties every time some new high society stiff arrived at the hotel.  Still, spilling her shit-load of toxic gossip meant that Dean wasn’t getting lectured or slapped or whacked with the hard wooden edge of her fan, so he’d put on his best listening face and count it a win.

She leant toward him.  “Castiel Novak is one of The Novaks.  The Novaks, Dean.”

Who the fuck were the Novaks?

“Fabulously wealthy, one of the best traditional families.”

Assholes, then.

“Their estate is in Eversett.”  She frowned.  “Or Meldonshire.  Somewhere like that.”  She waved an airy hand, her eyes glued to the alpha’s position.  “Lebanon, the house is called.  One of the few Great Houses still being managed as it should.  Oh, he's coming this way! Oh good heavens! Oh my!”

Dean anchored his eyes to the salt and pepper set in order not to roll them.  Mrs B might not want to be seen slapping her omega companion in public, but she had a retentive memory for any little slip-up and would be sure to save up one of her best for later if she caught him.

“But sir, we can set another table next to the dance floor for you.  Really, it would be no trouble.”  The maitre d’ was going full-throttle with the smarm.

Dean didn’t catch the words of the response – just a rumble, like something heavy dragging over gravel.

“Or with a view of the terrace.  It would be the work of a moment, Mr Novak.  And a much more pleasant situation.”

The rumble was louder but no more distinct.

“Then please, allow me to bring a bottle of our best champagne.”

The gravel scraped again.  

“Whiskey.  Yes, of course, sir.  And the a la carte menu.”

The gravel stirred itself into a snarl.  Jeez, this guy was more knot-headed than most.

“A hamburger.  Of course, sir.  Followed by a slice of… pie.”  The weird newcomer might as well have requested a lump of dirt followed by a morsel of shit.  Dean couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth curling into a smirk.  He couldn’t stop the rumble of his far from satisfied stomach either.

“Dean.”  The fan rapped his knuckles.  But she hadn’t noticed the smirk.  “Dean, stop daydreaming.  Sit up straight.”

Huh.  She was regretting taking the best chair now.  Dean, with the kitchen door flapping open and shut at his back and regular nudges to his chair from passing waiting staff, had a direct view to the next table-for-two.

Mrs B leant toward him.  “What’s he doing?”  Her pink lips moved in an exaggerated stage whisper.

“You want me to look at the alpha…uh, Mr Nover?  Novem?”

“Novak!  And yes, of course I want you to look!  Tell me what he’s doing!”

Dean looked up.  The alphas face was in shadow, downturned as if he were studying the thread-count of the tablecloth.  He had a lot of dark, messy hair.  One hand was visible, a fingertip pressing down on the blade of his fish knife so that the handle wobbled up and down.

“They say he can’t get over the death of his wife, you know.  Such a beauty, so spirited.  Amara was her name.  So sad.”  Restless fingers twitched at the stem of her wine glass.  “What’s he doing?”

“Nothing,” said Dean.  “Just sitting.”

“He must be doing something.”  Mrs B started twisting in her chair but caught herself in time, before she gave herself away as the insatiable rubber-necker that she was at heart.  “Tomorrow you can sit here and I’ll sit there!”

“Yes, ma’am.”  A passing waiter narrowly missed his head with a tray of soup.  She was welcome to Dean’s seat.

“Hasn’t he even smiled at the Contessa?  He must have noticed her, and I’m sure they know each other.  They were both at the Duke or Northerton’s ball two years ago last Christmas.”

The Contessa di Faraglione had been the object of Mrs B’s gossip for the past week since she’d arrived with her retinue of servants the week before.  She was old news now, though.  This Novak guy was the target now, and Dean would be used to help engineer an opportunity of speaking to him, which would be really embarrassing.  Like when Mrs B had made him take her card to the Contessa’s suite, claiming some kind of distant family connection.  The butler had told him to fuck off.  Probably.  Dean didn’t speak Italian.

A gust of warm, savoury air and a swell of noise at his back announced the opening of the kitchen door.  Dean hunched forward so he didn’t get a tray dumped on his head.  But the waiter was one of the more agile.  He swerved around Dean, hung a right and brought the tray down in a sweeping arc, perfectly timed to present its load to the occupant of the next table.

The occupant of the next table looked up at his meal and smiled.

And okay, yeah, it was a nice-looking hamburger.  Normally it would have had Dean transfixed, salivating with envy.  But it wasn’t the juicy patties and shiny, domed bun that brought Dean’s mind, his heart, his every-fucking-thing to a juddering halt.

Dean hadn’t seen the ocean until he was fifteen.  Before that it had been one dusty town after another, Dad dragging him and Sammy around like unwanted baggage.  But when a job had finally taken them to the coast, it’d been like all the heat and grime was washed away by that fresh, salty air.  And the colours in that huge ocean had taken his breath away.

It was the same now.  The drab, grey despair that made up Dean’s life was suddenly gone, and his world was full of ocean blue depths in the eyes of this strange alpha – strange but gorgeous, from his eyes to the soft bow of his lips to the commanding strength of his nose.  

Dean was heartily glad of his over-powdered cheeks.  Fuck, what was he thinking, blushing over some rich alpha who wouldn’t look at Dean once, let alone twice?  He really needed to get a hold of himself.

But the way that guy was looking at the burger was like he hadn’t eaten in years.  Imagine if he looked at Dean that way.  Although, maybe he’d been sick or something.  The shadows beneath his cheek bones looked sharper than they should and beneath his eyes too, little round ridges of dark cast by the bright chandeliers above them.  This alpha needed burgers and plenty of them.  Dean’s skin itched with the need to cook and cosset and caress, and Jesus fucking Christ, he was really losing it here, wasn’t he?  Really giving into his inner lapdog who just needed an alpha to boss him around to be happy.

The waiter flickered across Dean’s vision again and Mr Novak was left alone to enjoy his hamburger.  He picked up his knife and fork and raised them.  Which was a thing you did, Dean supposed, in a high-class dining room.  You ate a burger with a knife and fork.  But then his forehead crinkled into the suggestion of a frown.  He shook his head.  His rounded lips flattened into a tiny smile.  He put down his silverware.  And he picked up the burger in both hands.

“Close your mouth, Dean.”  Mrs B’s spoon scraped her bowl, chink, chink, chink, even though there was hardly any of the creamy sauce left.

Dean closed his mouth.  Then his eyes returned to the table over her shoulder.  Mr Novak hadn’t taken a bite.  He was still holding his hamburger in two hands, staring at it like he’d found the Holy Grail.

Then his eyes flicked up and fastened onto Dean’s.  Dean should look down.  He should drop his eyes like the shitty little omega-nothing that he was.  Instead he stared into the ocean.

And Mr Castiel Novak smiled at him.  Just a little smile.  Barely there before it was gone, and then he was chowing down on his meal, all his attention on his food, his eyes closing as he chewed his first mouthful, then opening again to get a load of the burger cross-section he’d created.  Did it have pickle, Dean wondered?  Mayo, cheese, the works?  Would he bite down through the whole lot, getting all the flavours in at once, in between those perfect pink lips?  And was Dean salivating over the man or the burger?

He was looking at Dean again.  Looking and smiling and nodding as if they were having an actual conversation about how great hamburgers were in general and this one in particular.

“Dean!”  

A sharp pain on his knuckles brought Dean’s attention snapping back to his employer.

“Dean!  Bridge!  The Spanish drawing room!”

“Yes, ma’am.  Sorry, ma’am.”  Bridge.  Of course it was time for bridge.  His world closed in with an almost audible snap.  Bridge was played at eight o’clock sharp every night and Dean and Mrs B were there, every single night; she to play and gossip and drink sherry, he to sit in a corner and try not to exist too loudly until he was needed.

He pushed his chair back, clumsily, and was sworn at by a passing waiter.

“Dean!”

Jeez.  He wasn’t the one who’d sworn, was he?

“Yes, ma’am.”  He rounded the table and pulled out his employer’s chair and collected up her purse and her wrap.  And he didn’t even glance over his shoulder to the most perfect alpha he’d ever seen, as he followed her to another evening of excruciating dullness in his excruciatingly dull life.

[justsome-di]

Now a Pulitzer Prize winning book (don’t fact check this, just trust me) and featured on Obama’s 2023 Summer Reading List!

You should be reading Nobody Ends Up Dead in a Bathtub, Everyone Keeps Their Organs! Why? See above.

It’s a good story if I do say so myself. And if you read it, you’re a cool kid. Don’t you want to be a cool kid? This is something called peer pressure, and it usually works.

But for real, if you read Nobody Ends Up Dead then you’re going to go on a good adventure with good characters I guarantee you will love. Not to brag, but it is a pretty good story. There’s funny one-liners, a cute plot, and relatable characters that have been developed for years. Just heed warnings at the beginning of chapters. NEUD deals with some heavy topics such as eating disorders.

NEUD is officially all online for free. But you can still access bonus chapters and short stories on Patreon for only $4.

Links: 

AO3

Wattpad

Patreon (Patrons had early access to the whole novel and also get exclusive short stories with the characters and sneak peaks for new projects!)

Netflix Previews

Characters’ Playlists

You can also check out my carrd if there are any updates to how/where I post, it’ll probably be the most accurate place to find new or updated links.

Transcript under cut:

The Story is Dope

A New York office worker and a sex worker get set up on a date--one thinking it's a real blind date, the other under the impression it's an ordinary appointment. After realizing it was all a shitty prank, they set out for revenge. Their plan: show up to an upcoming Halloween office party as a genuine couple, convincing the pranksters they genuinely fell in love and refusing to let themselves become the butt of the joke.

Our main characters are Alex, an awkward admin assistant for a medical company who hasn't been on a date since he was a teenager, and Damián, a sex worker who seems way out of Alex's league but keeps insisting on spending time with him so they can perfect their revenge scheme.

The novel features a diverse cast and explores sex positivity. I also like to believe that it portrays sex work well. Damián is a hardworking man, doing what he loves, and meeting mostly great people along the way--but he also would benefit greatly if sex work was decriminalized and therefore had better resources at his disposal.

If you're looking for a story with LGBT characters that's mostly light-hearted but still packs a punch every few chapters, this is it! Overall, it's a happy story.

The Characters!

oh boy the characters!

we got Damián who's hardworking and doting on his lil bro but oh wow does he have some angst

we got Alex who is nothing more than a burning ball of anxiety trying his best--all too relatable

Leo, Damián's bro, is an ally, and he will make sure everyone knows. Also has angst.

Eve, Alex's lil sister, is an edgy teen who's failing calc and runs a queer book club

together, they're a weird lil dysfunctional family

I'll be honest. There's a lot of love in this story. From me and among the characters. The characters love each other, and I think the readers love them, too.

It touches on a lot of loneliness--inspired by how I've felt since Covid started--and a lot of the conflicting emotions that come with being gay. What happy endings do we deserve? What about happy middles?

It's a touching book about learning to be a better person and finding people who love you--platonically and romantically.

Here are some of my fave parts:

And then there was a streak of gray hair that shocked Alex. A streak of gray hair off to the side, nestled close to a salt and pepper beard. Textured hands held cocktails. Little, subtle lines creased when mouths laughed. Alex held his breath. On the packed floor, they were the only people Alex could see. They were laughing and holding each other and enjoying themselves, firmly in the place they knew they belonged. Flashes of teeth pressed against each other, disappearing for long seconds at a time.

--

“Sorry,” Alex said. “Your arm got heavy on top of me.” “You’re a little mouse of a man. I didn’t mean to crush you.” “I’m what?”

--

“A dog!” Damián cooed as he sat across from the lesbians. “His name is Yam,” Martin said.

“His name is Yam,” Damián cried. Kris and Clara released Yam and gently nudged him to Damián. Ecstatic, Damián picked him up and set him on his lap. “His name is Yam,” he repeated to Alex. “I heard.”

--

But he couldn’t deny that he was having a good time. It was like intense yoga with the perk of having a cock shoved up his ass. He was going to feel limber as fuck after.

--

“Can I do anything?” Alex asked. “To help cheer you up?”

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’d like to. If you let me.”

--

“Wow this sounds great where can I read it?”

Tumblr @justsome-di

Watpadd @justsome-di

Patreon @just some di (link on Tumblr)

AO3 @justsome_di

Updates every friday!

[starry-bi-sky]

Childhood Friends Au: Danny's in Gotham Again

when the wool is off your eyes you'll stop counting sheep at night cause you'll eat your fill of them during the daytime

A few weeks after Danny’s visit to Gotham, he buys an apartment in the city. It’s this little thing, a studio apartment on the same street he grew up in. In Crime Alley. When he tells his parents, they protest heavily. They don’t think it's safe. They think he should reconsider. There were plenty of apartments and places to live somewhere else. And what about college? 

Danny doesn’t think he’ll go to college. He isn’t sure what he wants to do, now that being an astronaut is off the table. It’d be a waste of money to go without a goal in mind, he thinks. He says he’ll take a gap year and apply at one of the community colleges funded by the Wayne Corporation, possibly. It just wasn’t in the cards right now. 

“If things get tough,” He says at dinner that night, “then I can talk to the Waynes. I’m friends with the family, remember?” He ended up getting Bruce’s number in his phone again before he left, and in the process got Tim’s as well. They don’t talk much, Danny isn’t sure what to say. But he sends Tim memes whenever he comes across one and thinks he’ll like. Tim sends memes back in return.   

His parents do remember. They remember. They also remember the horrified shriek that echoed through the house when Danny learned of Jason’s passing. They remember running up the stairs and bursting into their son’s room and finding him sobbing into his bed, curled up like a little kid, like he was in pain. He lost his voice that day, stuck between screaming out his grief and sobbing it. 

They’re still not sure if they should let him go. 

In the end, Danny wins them out, and he lets them help him search for an apartment. They take a break from their lab work to help search for cheap furniture to buy. They may have more money than when they were in Gotham, but that frugal part of you never fully goes away. They all agree that they don’t want Danny to be seen carrying in nice-looking furniture when he moves in. 

He ends up with a basic furniture set, all mismatched, and in the warm summer of June, his parents rent out a u-haul and drive him down to Gotham to move in. They meet the landlord when they arrive, a skinny and frail old man with wispy white hair and a wrinkled face. He gives Danny the keys and tells him what apartment number he is, and then he leaves. 

His parents help him move in. They help him carry his heavy furniture up to the second floor, where his apartment is. Danny isn’t sure if he wants them to help. His mom and dad are strong, but they are getting old, closer to their fifties now that their children are grown. His dad’s hair is slowly beginning to thin, and rather than the white eating at the sides of his head, it now streaks through his hair like salt-and-pepper. His mom’s hair is graying out too, and there are more lines in their faces than he remembers there being. 

When he voices his concerns, his mom laughs spiritedly and says that they may be getting old, but they are still as spry as when they were in their twenties. Danny isn’t sure if he believes them or not. He can see his dad struggle a bit when they return to get his bed frame, and they have to take a break before they go back down for the rest of their things. 

Five years ago, his dad could do this without breaking a sweat. It forces a heavy thing in the back of Danny’s throat. (He is less afraid of his own death than he is of his loved ones, and while he has always felt rocky with his parents, he still loves them more than anything else.) 

Danny’s apartment is exactly as he would have expected it to be: shabby and worn through. The entire room smells like stale cigarette smoke and weed, nicotine stains the wall with poorly covered bullet holes, and stains in the carpet that are a color he can’t discern. The fridge has a broken light and when he tries to turn on the gas stove, it click-click-clicks before lighting, fire fwooshing out while the smell of gas fills the air. There’s rat droppings in the cupboards and the closet-like bathroom is just as bad. 

The ghostly part of him can sense the heavy stench of death in the room; people have died in this room. People have died in every room of this building, he thinks. They have died on the streets outside and in the alleys squeezed between them. He can feel it like a heavy fog in the air. 

It is painfully nostalgic, a bittersweet feeling in his chest that he grimaces to. 

When the last box is placed in his apartment, his parents offer to help unpack. They are hesitant to leave and Danny knows it, although he doesn’t know if it’s from empty nest syndrome or because it's Gotham. He thinks it might be both. He is their youngest child finally leaving home to a city known for its danger. 

“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay behind, sweetie?” His mother asks, a frown she tries to hide settled in the creases of her face. She fiddles with her hands, a nervous habit Danny has since noticed when she feels truly unsure and doesn’t need to hide it. Hesitancy looms over her like a heavy cloud. 

His dad jumps in hastily, splaying his hands and smiling painfully wide to hide the glistening in his eyes. “You’re mother’s right! We can help you get everything set up, champ. I could probably do something with that stove of yours to make it faster!” He says, his voice still booming like it always does even if there’s a stumble in his words. 

It makes his heart squeeze, knowing just how much they care. It was hard last summer, telling him that he was the Phantom. Terrifying, actually. They couldn’t comprehend it. He hadn’t felt his heart beat that fast in years when he stood in front of them at the kitchen table and told them he was a halfa, begging them to believe that ghosts weren’t inherently evil. 

His parents were people of science, however, and after much, much shock, they slowly came to terms with it. How could they not? The evidence was right in front of them. Their son was dead-alive, alive-dead. Somewhere stuck in the between. The tears they shed that night could fill a river, moving from the kitchen to the living room as Danny explains how he died. 

(When Danny tells them that he died after a week Jason did, his mom and dad look horrified. His mom covers her mouth when he adds that it was his idea to go inside it, his dad looks ashy pale, gripping his pant legs so tight that his knuckles turn white. There is a conclusion coming to their minds that he can tell they don’t like.) 

(“You’ve always hated our inventions, Danny.” Mom says in a hushed voice, and Danny winces at the wording, sinking into the back of the cushions in shame. He never thought that his parents noticed. Mom quickly grabs his arm, “No, no, there’s nothing to be ashamed of Danny. We were… perhaps too careless with our inventions, too enthusiastic. You had every right to hate the things we made when they had a tendency to… to malfunction.”) 

(Malfunction is a delicate way of putting it, when Danny remembers every time they had to evacuate their old apartment complex because whatever half-baked creation his parents made inevitably blew up into ash and smoke. There were soot marks permanently stained into the ceiling.) 

(Her hand slides down and grabs his, and she cups it in both of her hands, squeezing tightly. He forces himself to look up, and there is a look like her heart breaking when he looks into his mother’s eyes. “You’ve always avoided the lab after we moved, Danny. And you had every right to, so why on Earth did you ever think about going into the portal?”)

(Danny struggles to come up with an adequate answer, a way to verbalize what came over him that day five years ago. The answer is there, hanging in the air like a knot in a noose. He opens his mouth, and then closes it.)

(Finally, with a tongue made of lead, he shrugs lamely and looks away. “I didn’t know there was an on button inside it.” He mumbles, and despite being the truth it feels like a lie. But that is the truth. He didn’t know there was an on button inside it. So he didn’t care what happened.)

(Something dulls in mom’s eyes, like she thought of something else that Danny hadn’t said. Her eyes shimmer, and she squeezes them shut, breathing in so deep that it shakes. And then she pulls him into a hug, a hand burying into his hair and pressing him close. “It must have hurt so much, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”)

(It is something that Danny doesn’t expect her to say, like missing the last step of the stairs. It startles him so much he laughs this short, bark of a thing. He feels his dad press against his back and wrap his big arms around them, his nose pushed into his hair.) 

(Because yeah. Yeah, it did hurt. It hurt more than anything else he’s ever felt before. It had torn him apart and sewn him back together again, only to rinse and repeat. The pain was nothing he ever spoke to Sam or Tucker about, and it was something they never brought up. No, that’s not true. If they ever brought it up, Tucker would call it a zap. As if Danny only experienced a mild static shock. Like it was painless. It’s a pretty lie that Danny lets him and Sam believe.)

(His eyes sting and water immediately wobbles into his vision, coming up with such a force that he doesn’t even need to blink before it spills over. “Yeah.” He forces out, voice unexpectedly rough and cracking. “Yeah, it- it hurt. A lot.”)

He tells them about fighting the Lunch Lady a month later. He tells them about finding Jason. It comes spilling out like a waterfall. “I found him, mom.” He says, holding onto her tight while she keeps him tucked under his chin like a little kid. The secret of Jason being Robin stays hidden under his tongue, it is not his secret to tell. Not his identity to expose. He grips her tighter. “I found him, mom. Right there in the Ghost Zone, and he was my Jason. He wasn’t an echo or a— an imprint of him.”

Mom is silent; quiet and attentive, and so is dad, who rubs his large hands up and down Danny’s spine in an attempt to soothe him. It only works a little. Danny breathes in like a gasp as the urge to cry overcomes him again. He always avoids talking about Jason, his grief is like a never-healing scab that can be picked off at any time. It is ingrained into his core. 

“And then I lost him.” He forces out, a sob layering under his words that he chokes on and swallows. The hand on his back stills, and he can feel mom and dad breathe in like a question. He turns his head and pushes it into mom’s shoulder. “He disappeared, mom. Just— just gone.”

“And he didn’t move on.” He says, voice snarling like teeth biting before his mom can ask, because he knows that’s what she was going to ask. It’s what Sam and Tucker asked when he came to them in tears hours after he found Jason gone. It’s what Jazz said when he finally told her about it. It’s what every one of his ghosts asked when he told them about it and begged for their help. 

Danny grits his teeth and tries not to dig his nails into mom’s clothes as a fresh wave of tears run down his face. “His haunt is still there. If Jason really moved on it would have disappeared with him. That’s how it works. But it’s still in the zone, so Jason’s out there I just don’t know where.” 

(Sam once asks him why Danny didn’t just move on from it a year after Jason’s disappearance. She asked him why he didn’t give it up. Danny nearly saw red, and nearly bit her head off for it. It was incomprehensible to him to just stop looking for Jason, to give up. Not when he was out in the zone somewhere. Because he had to be in the zone.)

(Danny once tried to take Jason through the portal with him, and much like what happened to Kitty, it didn’t work. Jason was too tied to the ghost zone to leave.) 

(Some bonds are just unbreakable, he thinks. Bonds forged through blood and time and trust, and when you’re on the streets of Gotham, you hoard what little trust you have in someone like a dragon with its gold. It is scarcely given and fiercely kept.) 

“I’ve been looking for him.” Danny whispers when talking becomes too hard for him, when it runs the risk of him crying. “When- when I’m not fighting ghosts or, or in school or with my friends, I’ve been looking for him.” He has explored the Ghost Zone in every reach he can. He has met so many people. He’s met the ghosts of aliens from planets in every corner of the galaxy. He has met gods or god-like beings and their disciples. 

He’s met famous scholars and writers (he’s gotten the autographs of all of Jason’s favorite writers). He has found entire cities that have so much life in it that it's been permanently etched into the ghost zone, like a mirror version of itself. 

He’s visited the ghostly vision of Gotham so many times, and he avoids the imprint of Wayne Manor like the plague. There are ghostly newspapers that he reads. There are the ghosts of Martha and Thomas Wayne in many of them. 

Jason’s haunt connects to Wayne Manor, but it is also the street they grew up in. It is a small brick building with a door that leads to Jason’s room. A ghost knows when someone enters their haunt, it alerts them like a doorbell in the back of their mind. A foreign ecto-signature in a place drenched in your own. 

Danny visits it every time he goes into the Ghost Zone. It’s always his first stop. 

He tells his parents all of it. He tells them of the ghosts he’s met, of the places he’s seen. And when he feels brave, he tells them about Rath and the terror that his future self brings him. He keeps some details hidden, the ones that he can afford to keep without muddling up the story. 

(Rath is a tall, spindly thing, like a funhouse mirror version of Danny himself. He has arms that are much too long and legs that are much too tall, with skinny fingers that extend into claws.He wears his suit the same as Danny does, with it partially undone and the sleeves wrapped around his waist.)

(There is a black hole in his chest that is much bigger than Danny’s own. It takes up his chest cavity and drips the same, viscous black liquid as the tears falling from his eyes. Danny never forgets his voice; a scraping, quiet thing like he’s screamed himself hoarse. Rath has a voice like goosebumps, and it haunts Danny like a bump in the night.) 

Danny speaks and speaks and speaks until he can’t think of anything else to speak of. He is tired and sad, and it feels like his heart has been ripped out and rubbed raw again. And yet, he also feels so much better. Like a long heavy weight has been taken off his chest. 

Yeah, last summer was hard. His parents walked on eggshells around him, and they forced themselves to unlearn their bias of ghosts. It was more than Danny could have ever dreamed of, and when they felt ready for it, they asked him more about the ghost zone.

He smiles sadly at his dad, “I think fixing the stove can be a priority another time, dad.” He says, watching him wilt and his smile fall. Jack Fenton was always so good at making himself look like a kicked puppy. “I can handle unpacking by myself, I promise.” 

His parents still look so unsure, like they want to argue. Danny watches his mom purse her lips tightly, confliction running across her face like a datastream. She takes dad’s hand, squeezing their fingers together despite the droop in her shoulders. 

“Oh, alright then, I suppose.” She relents, her hand placing on Jack’s arm. “I guess we could go, we’re just going to miss you so much, Danny.” 

Tears seem to have won over his dad, and Jack Fenton sniffs back before he can cry properly. “Our little boy, all grown up.” He says, voice wobbling. It makes Danny laugh, and it makes his heart pang. His smile grows impossibly wider and so much fonder. “You’ve become such a kind, wonderful young man, Danno. We’re so proud of you.” 

Danny laughs again, and it cracks. “You’re gonna make me cry, dad.” (He feels a welling of guilt in his gut that he ignores — he doesn’t feel like a kind man. He doesn’t feel like a good one either. Not with what he plans to do.) 

His father holds out his arms in hopefulness, “One last hug for your old man before we head out?” He asks, mustering up a smile on his face. 

Danny barrels into him, nearly knocking his dad over with an oomph. He’s as tall as him now, but he still feels little in his bear hugs. With arms wrapping around his middle, Danny hugs his father tight and breathes him in one last time. 

“Careful there, Danno.” He laughs, patting Danny’s back roughly. “You’ll break my ribs with that ghostly strength of yours!” But he holds on just as tight.

Out of spite, Danny bends back and lifts him off his feet, laughing when Jack tenses up and nearly scrambles out of surprise. His mom laughs with him, stepping back to give them room for the few seconds that dad is in the air. 

When it’s his mom’s turn, Danny has to hunch to hug her. Something bittersweet to him as she plants a kiss on his forehead and says that he’ll always be her baby. “Even if you do have that horrid smoking habit.” She adds on with a disapproving eyebrow raise. 

Danny turns red in embarrassment, and walks them back to the GAV. Gothamites of all kinds slow to stop and boggle at the monstrous, road-illegal thing that is parallel-parked next to the curbside. In the past, Danny would have died with mortification to be seen with it. Now it just makes him laugh. Before he goes back into the apartment building, he buys a newspaper from a nearby convenience store.  

The first thing he does when he gets back up to his room is one: make a mental note to buy a bicycle chain lock for the door. The locks jiggle and there are splinters along the side that show signs of it being broken into in the past. The second thing he does is pull his cigarettes out of his pocket and light one. 

Danny starts to unpack with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, placing the newspaper he bought onto the counter. He has a cheap loveseat that he pushes off to the side, and he moves the boxes into the kitchen. It’s a matter of organization that Danny has to think about before he does anything. 

It’s as he’s pushing the sofa up against the wall facing the windows that his phone rings a familiar tune: Sam. The phone is fished out before he can think about it and when he stares down at the screen, he realizes it's a facetime call. 

He presses answer and walks over to prop his phone up onto the counter. The smiling faces of Sam and Tucker greet him, rather than just Sam. Immediately, Danny grins. “Hey Danny.” Sam greets, smiling a dark-painted lazy thing. From the background it looks like they’re in Tucker’s room. Sam is in Tucker’s desk chair, and Tucker is behind her, leaning against it. “Have you moved in yet?” 

Danny pulls the cigarette from his mouth and huffs, a cloud of smoke following his breath. “Yeah! It’s a shithole.” He grins lopsidedly, and his feet carry him off to the side to allow Sam and Tucker view of his apartment. He lets thirty seconds pass, allowing the both of them to really see the rest of the room. And then he steps back into frame. 

Sam and Tucker both look like they’re trying not to look judgemental, like they’re trying to hide a grimace that Danny sees anyway with the small turns at the corner of their mouths. He grins wider, mirth filling his lungs. “I know, it looks awful doesn’t it?”

“It’s— it’s not so bad.” Sam says with a strain in her voice, a forced smile on her face that tries to be reassuring. Tucker nods along readily, and he looks just as unsure as Sam does. Danny stifles laughter behind his teeth. 

“No, no, it looks bad,” He takes a drag of his cigarette, shaking his head. “You can say it, I won’t get offended. It’s a fucking apartment in crime alley. Of course it looks bad.” 

Sam remains silent, a rearing of her stubbornness showing itself. Tucker takes a different approach, and heaves a dramatic sigh of relief, slumping like a weight. “Okay, you’re right. It looks bad.” He frowns, “Sorry, man.” 

While Danny snorts, Sam sighs. “Yeah, it looks bad. What even are those stains?” She asks, and both she and Tucker lean closer in tandem to the screen, eyes squinting at the floor behind him. Danny glances at the floor, and shrugs. 

“Blood, probably.” He says, and while years in Amity Park have accustomed him to a clean environment, the desensitization of Gotham still remains. Tucker and Sam both make faces and lean away, as if the stain itself was capable of passing through to them. “Yeah, there are bullet holes in the walls.” 

“Are you sure it’s safe to be there?” Tucker asks, a furrow appearing between his brows. He adjusts his glasses and leans against the chair. Sam is frowning heavily, and Danny can already see her thinking up of a new way to fix the problem. 

“Oh, I never said this place was safe.” Danny tells him cheerily, taking a last hit of his cigarette before placing the dead stick onto the counter. He itches for another one. Instead he walks over to the shelf his parents brought in and starts moving it. “It’s Crime Alley, Tuck. Safe isn’t even in its vocabulary.” 

Tucker and Sam look like they’ve both swallowed a lemon.

“But it’s where I want to be right now.” He says, grunting quietly when the shelf is against the wall he wants it to be, near the short hallway leading to the front door. He can push it in front of it if someone tries to break in. “And Crime Alley’s apartments are the only ones I can really afford right now without mooching off my parents, and I’d rather not depend on them.” 

He can hear the disapproving hesitance from where he stands. And he ignores it. 

Danny walks back into frame, lifting up a box onto the counter. He hums lightly, fingers run over the tape keeping it shut. “Why do you even want to be in Gotham, Danny?” Sam asks, and she sounds genuinely perplexed. Danny stills. “I thought this place only had bad memories for you.” 

His blood turns cold, and like a dime being flipped his slow heartbeat fills his ears. “It does.” He replies automatically, before he can think. Shit, shit. He knows that Sam or Tucker would ask that question, and yet he still feels unprepared for it. His heart pulses quickly against his ribcage, knocking, asking him what he’s going to tell them that isn’t the truth. 

Danny stammers, “I mean— I just— I guess I felt nostalgic.” He says, and it sounds like a weak defense. He looks away, finding himself instinctively scratching his jaw. A new tick of his when he’s nervous. From the corner of his eye, he sees Sam and Tucker both narrow their eyes at him. 

He cannot tell them the real reason why he’s moved back to Gotham. He can’t tell them of the little secret and vow he told himself five years ago, the one that’s been left to fester and burn like an open wound close to his core. The one that, if he thinks too much about it, sends a searing hot electricity through him, filling him from crown to toe top-full of direst wrath.  

(Danny was always the angrier one in the duo of Jason and Danny. He was always the one with glass in his mouth, cutting his teeth and tongue so that he could spit blood at the world around them. His knuckles had more blood and bruises on it than skin, once upon a time. All because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He has grown from it, that fury has turned to a small simmering candle.) (But sometimes, sometimes it rears its head, and electricity will buzz under Danny’s skin. There is lightning before the thunder, the second before a fist pulled to punch lands, the spark before it becomes a blaze.) 

He stumbles over his words, and then sighs long and low, drooping his head. “I… was thinking that I can’t avoid this place forever.” He says, and the best lies always have the truth in it. Because it’s not a lie, not completely. But it’s not close enough to the truth either. “And that maybe if I came back, I’d be able to do something about those bad memories. Make them better or make it hurt less.” 

Like wool over their eyes, it fools Sam and Tucker. Their narrowed eyes soften, and Danny feels like a snake is in his lungs as they both adopt their own versions of gentleness on their faces. “Oh, Danny.” Sam breathes out, and the snake squeezes, “Of course, we understand.”

Tucker nods, smiling at him. “Yeah, bro, that’s really brave of you. I know it can’t be easy coming back.” He says, “Maybe you can reconnect with the Waynes again, you always thought well of Mister Wayne whenever you came back from visiting.”

Danny smiles weakly, the gesture cutting into his cheeks like a knife. Perhaps he could. He was still upset with Bruce for hiding Jason’s killer from him. But he doesn’t hate him. Maybe five years ago, he did, when the death of Jason was still fresh in his mind and freshly bleeding in his heart. Now he just doesn’t know what to think of him. He was Batman. Jason was Robin, and the Joker killed Robin. 

It would need to be something he’d have to speak to Bruce about in person, he thinks, in order to resolve it. To hear his judgment on it and make an opinion from there. Danny has learned in the last five years, much to Jazz’s smug delight, that talking to people about something he was upset about did make him feel better. 

The conversation slips on from there into something more light, more breathable. And while they talk, Danny unpacks. He sets up his bed in the corner of the room, adjacent to the windows, and unpacks his cheap TV and table stand. It’s directly across from the couch, in front of the windows. He puts up knicks and knacks he’s collected over the years on the shelves.

When he puts up the curtains, he notices that more than one frame jiggles loosely. Sam makes a comment on the musty stains permanently dyed into the glass, and Danny talks about getting something to fix the cracks. Gotham winters can get brutal, and even if he can withstand the cold, doesn’t mean everything else in his apartment can. 

“Oh, watch this.” He says halfway through unpacking, and pulls out a stick of thick white chalk from a box. “This is something I learned from Clockwork a while back; I think he knew I was going to move to Gotham.” He grins sillily, popping into the camera frame to show them. “I wonder how?” 

Sam rolls her eyes, smiling while Tucker huffs. “It’s not like he’s the Master of Time and can see all past, present, and future.” Tucker snarks. 

Danny hums lightly, curt like he isn’t sure he believes Tucker, and walks to a piece of bare wall not yet blocked by furniture. He starts to draw on it. The chalk shimmers with faint ectoplasm on the wall. 

“Uhh…” Tucker’s voice cuts through, “Are you sure you should be doing that? Won’t you get in trouble for that?”

“There are bullet holes in the plaster, Tucker.” Danny retorts dryly, arching his hand to make a big circle. “I don’t think the landlord is gonna care if I get washable chalk on his walls.” Inside the circle, he inscribes the symbols of the Infinite Realms. “I don’t think he’d be able to see it anyways, he was really old.” 

When he is done, Danny steps back to admire his work. It’s not bad, he thinks, for a lack of practice. He tosses the chalk off to the side, it lands on the couch and rolls back into the cushions. Ectoplasm heats under his hand, slowly glowing from his fingertips before stretching down the rest of his palm. 

Danny’s fingers press against the wall, into the center of the circle. The result is immediate, ectoplasm is siphoned off his hand and into the circle. It glows, and then swirls. He steps off to the side for Sam and Tucker to watch its transformation. The circle fills with a swirling pool of ectoplasm, like a smaller version of the basement portal, and then it warps and stretches. 

It fills out a rectangular shape, shifting like taffy being pulled this way and that, before settling into a solid shape. It solidifies, and instead of a wall there is a glowing purple door, warped in nature and seemingly shifting like a trick of the eyes. He can hear the gentle hum of the zone standing next to it, and can see the carving of the circle in the wood. 

He gestures dramatically, grinning from ear to ear. “Ta-da~” He sings, “A door to my haunt! For whenever I feel like visiting it.” He pats the wood, making a strange thunk-thunk sound. “And then watch this.” 

Danny touches the circle again, and the door twists and recedes like water going down a drain. The circle flashes bright green, and then fades into nothing on the wall, invisible to the naked eye. “I can hide it whenever I want! So if I ever invite someone over—” which he doubts, “—I won’t have to worry about them asking, ‘Hey Danny? Why is there a creepy fucking door in your studio apartment?’”

He gets a pair of laughs for his efforts, and Danny grins wider. 

Sam and Tucker have to end the call when Danny is nearly done unpacking, leaving him alone with only his thoughts and the Gotham ambience outside. There were only a few boxes left, and they promise to call him tomorrow. He tells them that they better keep that promise. 

The silence that follows after they leave feels somberly, as if the reality of moving in has finally set in and filled the air with its loneliness. With its change. Finally, Danny lets the strangeness of moving back to Gotham hit him when he reaches the last box, and he stops to take another smoke break to let it settle. 

It feels so strange to be back in Gotham, he thinks. He’s all grown up, or almost grown up. He can vote and pay taxes, but he doesn’t feel much older than he was at fourteen. There’s a disconnect that makes him feel sad. 

There are cars running outside, driving by. He can only catch glimpses of them, his apartment faces an alleyway. There are dogs barking in the distance, strays he bets. It’s already dark out, and he wonders if he looks out the window he would see the bat-signal shining through the night and staining the permanent cloud that hangs over Gotham. 

Bruce would be so disappointed if he learned the reason for Danny’s return to Gotham. But Danny’s not here for him. He’s here for someone far more important. And like that, the simmering anger that has tucked itself into the furthest corners of his heart starts slipping through. His heart has teeth, ready to strike and snarl and bite. 

He crushes the cigarette in his hand and throws it away. When he opens the last box, it is with hands that tremble and with a face of stone. With a delicateness he does not feel, he reaches in and pulls a corkboard from the box. On the corner frame is a small, near inconspicuous carving of another ghost rune. 

Danny hangs it up on an empty space on the wall, out of sight from the window. It’s plain, and he has nothing to pin to it. He presses the small rune on the corner, pushing ectoplasm into it. Unlike the door, it does not twist and warp and shape itself into something new. Instead it bursts into green flame, eating away at the board and revealing the same thing underneath it, just in dark blue-black-purple. 

Now this board, this board Danny has something to pin to it. The newspaper he bought earlier sits abandoned on the counter, and Danny unrolls it with something like viciousness in his chest. On the front page is an image of a damaged street, and above it is titled: “JOKER STRIKES AGAIN, 3 DEAD AND 27 INJURED”

Danny rips out the first page, he rips out every mention of him. His hands shake and threaten to crumple the paper as he turns back to the board, there is hot blood pounding in his ears. There is an impending sense of finally in his chest, like a setting sun giving the stage to a starless night. There is a stern set in his jaw, five years of festering rage rushing forth like a tidal wave, threatening to make his vision swim. 

It would be so easy, he thinks, to go out as Phantom right now and hunt the clown down. It would only take a night. All it would take is a night, and then he could sink his hands into the Joker’s chest and rip out his heart where he stood. It would be so easy. 

The thought alone forces Danny to stop as he is hit with another rush of fury, really making his head and vision swim. Thorny vines wrap around his throat, making it hard to breathe. He stares at a spot on the wall until the shaking passes. 

If he wants to be discreet about this, then he can’t do it now. Even if he wants to. He doesn’t want witnesses. He doesn’t want an audience. He made a mistake, telling Red Hood about his plan. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking. Perhaps he wasn’t thinking at all. But he can only hope that the Hood hasn’t mentioned it to Bruce. He knows it hasn’t been long since they started working together. He hopes that the Hood has already forgotten about it. 

He pins the newspaper clippings onto the black-blue-board, and stands back. It’s bare now, but it won’t be forever. 

He presses the circle again, and the pinboard reverts back to its original blank state. 

-----

Was I expecting to make a third part?? No. No I was not. I was also not expecting to make an entire google doc filled with summaries for short story ideas about this au that all tie into each other so that way if i DO continue this i have a skeleton pathway to follow rather than making everything up from scratch and potentially cornering myself

you can find this on ao3 or on tumblr 1 2 :)

[mediumtires]

Do you think Christian notices Toto's first grey hairs in the same way Toto noticed Christian needed a haircut? Like they're bickering over something stupid and maybe Toto turns around or something and Then Christian is absolutely Going To Cry because Toto has grey hairs and he's in love with him

AHHHHHHHH YES THIS!!!!!!!

the moment christian realises he’s absolutely a broken man. like the way toto’s hair was ALWAYS dark, it has always been dark, no matter his age, literally no signs of aging to that man except for maybe the one million lines on his face but still! christian’s aging was much more visible, first the hair, then the glasses, when toto just kind of. stayed the same. so the moment christian sees it, it’s over for him.

the eyelashes were first. it’s such a minor, small detail that he barely even notices until one morning he wakes up before him and sees one or two single eyelashes just. white.

but the hair? oh jesus. christian is The First to notice.

“Did you use dry shampoo this morning or something?”

“What? Dry shampoo? What is that?”

“Darling…” Christian almost can’t believe it. “Toto, I think you’re going grey.”

“What?”

Christian’s thumb brushes the cowlick at the back of Toto’s head, watches as the hairs bend and follow before they fall back into shape. They’re losing colour, just in that spot, fanning out like a flower that’s slowly running out of ink, a brownish grey, some strands already fully white. Christian’s heart aches at the sight of it. He bends down and presses a kiss to the spot, lingers.

Toto shuffles out of his hold. His hand comes up to the spot Christian just kissed, rubs at it like he will be able to feel the grey or maybe rub it off.

Christian finds himself smiling, with heart shattering fondness, down at the man he loves more than anything in the world.

He reaches out and finds Toto’s fingers, doesn’t push them away, just rubs at them, soothingly. “It’s finally happening, huh?”

“You need to take a picture and show me.”

Christian chuckles, and does. It’s right there, almost like white powder stuck to Toto’s roots, like dry shampoo that he didn’t comb out properly. Only it’s not that, it’s real, and it won’t go away. Christian knows all too well.

“How is this— Is it only this? Only that spot?”

“Yeah.” Christian brushes his fingers through Toto’s hair, checks the dark strands. Anywhere else he’s as dark as he used to be, perhaps a little lighter on top, at the back, but that’s from how much time he’s spent in the sun lately. He's had a stray white strand here and there, but this is new.

“How long has it been there?”

“I have no idea. I only just noticed.”

“How long do I have left do you think?”

Christian startles a laugh, smothers it to the wild mess of Toto’s hair when he wraps himself around him from behind, rests his forehead there. "Don't make it sound like that. It’s just grey hair, it doesn’t mean anything other than you getting even sexier. I'll have to come up with a new way to fight off all your suiters."

Toto scoffs the shortest little puff of amusement, but there’s a little edge to him. “You find this sexy? One little white patch? Sexy?”

“Very.” Christian presses another kiss to his head. “You'll be salt and pepper in no time."

“I’m so old.” Toto almost sounds disappointed.

“You’re my husband.”

Toto scrunches up his face, like he’s unwilling to give Christian this, even though it’s a winning argument. "And so old."

"I'm married to an old man," Christian agrees, lightly, just to be a shit, but then the meaning of his words hits him. "We said fifty more years, though, alright? At least. That's a done deal. We shook on it."

Toto looks up at him. Knows. Knows what he's saying, what he's not saying, right away.

“Fifty more years,” Toto echoes. Covers one of Christian’s hands with his own.

"At least," Christian says, serious.

Toto rolls his eyes, just a little. "At least, yes. But that is a very long time to be stuck with you."

"And you better be fucking grateful."

Toto's face morphs into a smile, so wide that his eyes close with it. He leans up for a kiss. Christian allows it. “I get it now," he tells him, one hand going back to his hair, brushing soft strands out of his forehead. “Why you get so riled up when I'm wearing my glasses.”

"I don't get riled up-" "Oh, now you're old and a liar, huh?"