#Ethel with two names | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

princessbrunette · 3 months

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CRUSH ♡

… based loosely on the song crush by ethel cain ⊹˚. ♡

pairing: linecook!jj maybank + sweetheart!reader

synopsis: you’re head over heels for your bad-boy coworker, jj— the linecook for the outerbanks beachside restaurant you waitress at. a customer spilling coffee over your uniform catalysts a chain of events.

cw: a gun but no violence, shitty customers, jj being jj, smut.

You didn’t really know about restaurant employee culture until you started your job as a waitress. Stereotypes, things that fate would just simply decide to come true in every single restaurant no matter what. Waitresses were either the sweetest people you’d ever met or the bitchiest, managers had favourites and if you weren’t one of them they treat you like shit, the kid who gets stuck on dishwasher duty was always younger than everyone and fell in love with all the waitresses— uber specific and odd stuff. Oh, and that linecooks were troubled, or whores.

JJ Maybank was more troubled than the latter. Well, you’d hoped so anyways. You’d had a crush on the blonde linecook from your very first day, a quieter morning at the beginning of spring when the beachside restaurant was criminally understaffed. Your manager had appointed him to show you around before either of you had even made it inside, the tough older woman calling him out as he arrived to work, climbing off his bike, chewing on a toothpick with headphones over his ears. Your heart had fluttered when he bantered with the older woman, pointing to the music-playing-muffs over his ears, mouthing an ‘I can’t hear you, sorry’ when she’d approached him.

You’d felt embarrassed almost, like you were taking up his time. He was clearly comfortable here, had a good relationship with everybody— even the manager who seemed to hate the world tenfold. She’d yanked off his headphones and jut her thumb towards you as he stared her down with a mischievous grin.

“Maybank, I need you to show around the newbie— uh, what’s your name again sweetheart?” She spins to you, and for the first time JJ’s eyes flicker towards you, brows jumping up just a hair, a micro-expression that only you could hold onto for hope. Hope that he might be a little interested. You speak your name, and he’s swerving around the manager in his white tshirt, apron tied lazily around his waist, hung down, not even wearing it over his shirt like he’s meant to, black backwards cap over blonde messy hair.

“Well it is very nice to meet you ma’am.” He juts out a hand with a stupidly large grin that makes you feel even more shy.

You remember that day so clearly, the blonde showing you the ropes, practically training you whilst your manager chain smoked out the back. You remembered how you hadn’t had a proper school-girl style crush like this since forever, and one day into working at the restaurant you were already head over heels for the loud and hyperactive Pogue.

A few months down the line, and your bond had blossomed. Well, somewhat — it was a busy restaurant, lots of waitresses and cooks and customers. There wasn’t always time for chit-chat and flirting. Which sometimes you were grateful for, plates clanking awkwardly in your hands as you spot a more confident waitress trying her luck with him, hair twirled around a long finger. You were delusional enough to believe JJ seemed politely disinterested at the least, choosing to busy himself with ruffling the top of your head with his knuckles as you pass by him, hiding your smile at his acknowledgment.

You wouldn’t say the two of you were friends. You’d hoped not anyway, dreading being stuck in the friendzone with the guy you’d spent months pining after. You couldn’t be friends because you’d never hung out with him outside of work, not that you’d deny him but he’d never asked. You’d seen him around, don’t get it twisted — that group of friends of his; the brunette one who always seemed to be the talk of the town, the darker skinned boy who seemed too smart to be slumming it on a boat smoking weed, and a girl — who laughed at all of JJ’s jokes and threw glares to anyone she deemed too ‘Kook-y’. That was some serious intel, but you swear up and down you weren’t a stalker— just paying attention when you’d see him outside of the workplace.

JJ made it clear you were his favourite waitress. Well, he’d said it himself, holding a plate just out of your reach when you’d come to collect an order, playful smirk on his face as he stares down at you. “Can I have my order?” you pretend to hate it, hiding your smile as you huff, reaching out.

“I dunno, I could almost swear there’s a magic word that you’re missing there, girlie. Y’wanna help me out with that? Orrrr…” He tilts his head, playing dumb and you let the smile free— cheeks pushing up as you gaze at his stupid expression.

“Please, JJ.” You offer sweetly instead of sassing him, which makes his heart clench a little because you were just an absolute sweetheart by nature. He lowers the plate, hovering it above your palm and giving you a more serious look.

“Plates hot, alright? Better be careful with those delicate mittens.” You roll your eyes bashfully and he presses it into your palm. The plate was warm at best, it seeming that JJ would say anything just to keep the conversation going longer than it needed to.

“Thank you.” You smile once it was in your hand and he nods, faux solemnly as he backs off back to his work station, ignoring the knowing stare from his partner linecook.

“So polite, s’why you’re my favourite, princess.” He points with a wink and you turn away before he can see how flustered it made you. Princess, are you kidding me? It’s like he wanted to make you drop the plate. He watches the door swing as you head back out into the bustling restaurant, and jumps a little in surprise when he turns back to come face to face with another linecooks smirk.

“Playin’ favourites, huh Maybank?”

The blonde itches his cheek, bashful with a shrug— going back to chopping a carrot like he was before.

“Yeah well— doesn’t everyone do that here?” He tries to brush it off, head swivelling to glance back at the door, just incase you overheard.

“Yeah… yeah, chose a pretty one though, I’ll give you that. Lemme know when you’re done with it, I wanna play.” He speaks with a stomach-turning smile, and certainly doesn’t miss the way JJ’s jaw clenches, knife nearly going not only through the carrot but the chopping board too. Dont cause a scene now, Jayj.

JJ was troubled, like you’d said. You’d heard whispers from waitresses or friends of a friend outside of work — things about his father always being in jail, the blonde himself ending up in overnight cells a series of times. You’d heard about fights, his name always ringing close to the scene, even car chases and rumours about his run ins with big time criminals— but you wasn’t sure how verifiable any of these were.

It didn’t seem totally far fetched though, the Pogue occasionally showing up to his shift with his head down, a new bruise splattered on his cheek bone or a gnarly gash. He had one the day things changed, a cut through his lip, gone almost black from blood constantly drying after he’d assumably lick it open. From a glance, it almost looked like a lip-ring, and he sported it well with a large greenish yellow bruise beside his eye over his temple. You wish you felt close enough to ask where they came from, but knew that would be prying. You didn’t even wanna listen in when you’d see the manager nod him into her office to give him ‘the talk’ and ask about it presumably, which you’d also guessed she’d gained no information from as he’d leave her office looking casual whilst she still wore that slightly frustrated and worried look on her face.

Everyone seemed to be in a weird mood that day, even the customers. It wasn’t really his fault, the man somehow backing into you abruptly enough for you to spill an old container of coffee all down yourself. Well, to rephrase — it was an accident, which was actually the best case scenario considering you’d had drinks poured down you on purpose for making them wrong before.

You get that awful coil of embarrassment in your stomach when you walk into the kitchen, beige staining right through your usual pristine uniform and falling in droplets off the ends of your hair. JJ sees the pout before the stains, and it comes as no surprise to the other linecooks when he rushes over like prince charming.

“You good? Someone do that to you?” He’s already trying to bound past you to go and ‘handle the situation’ (AKA, kick them out) but you shake your head— not really upset just tired, and now cold thanks to the old coffee soaking through to your skin.

“It was an accident. I don’t have anything to change into so I don’t know if I should just… go home, or something.” You hold your hands out in frustration, looking down at yourself.

“Oh, nah— don’t sweat it. Got a spare shirt in my locker you can wear. S’just a white t-shirt, should do the trick.” He steps backwards.

“But it’s not uniform?” You furrow your brows and he huffs out a chuckle at you always being such a stickler for following the rules. “Our manager will have my head, surely.”

“Think she’d rather that than you walkin’ round smellin’ like cold brew.” He fishes through his pockets and tosses you a small key with a red triangle keychain on the end, the key to his locker in the staff cloakroom. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks Jayj.” You smile, excusing yourself shyly at the use of the nickname you’ve heard others use on him but always chickened out on. He noticed, because he shows all his teeth when he smiles and nods, turning back around.

The cloakroom always smells weird— like mulch and rubber, a cold and windowless room with a bench and a wall of seafoam lockers. You flip the key in your hand, spotting the number on the back and match it to the lockers. Wearing JJ’s shirt, huh — you smile to yourself, feeling giddy and stupid at the butterflies that brush their wings against the inside of your stomach. He was just doing you a favour, sure — but you got to prance around wearing him all day, and that was enough to fuel your delusion. You off your stained shirt, leaving you in just a small and flimsy tank top that you usually wear beneath it incase of accidents like this.

You open the locker, and something black immediately drops out onto the floor, echoing loudly and bouncing once a tiny bit by your feet. The weird clinical lighting of the cloakroom casts a dark shadow below where your head searches down for it, so you move slightly— brows furrowing when you see the shape of it.

Your brain clearly hasn’t processed or caught up with just quite what you’re looking at as you bend down, lips parted as you pick the item up in your hand, standing back to full height once more. In your hand, you stared directly at a gun. A pistol, to be precise. You seem to be in shock, the weapon glued to your hand despite anyone being able to walk in and get you fired and or reported to the police within a matter of seconds. You turn the weapon in your hand in fascination, whispering a “What the…” to yourself.

JJ leans against the doorway with a forearm, just now remembering what resided in that very locker other than the shirt he so generously offered. He’s distracted for a moment by your skin, the skin on the back of your arms and your back as you stand with your uniform shirt bunched in your hand, until of course he spots what’s held in your other hand and physically winces.

“Shit, uh—” JJ vocalises and your head snaps around, sighing in relief once you see that it’s just him. You’re back to marvelling in shock at the item in an instant, ogling between him and the weapon. “So, that’s — that’s not what it looks like—”

“A gun?” You whisper the second word, looking up at him with wide eyes and he points the pistol downwards with his finger when you hold it accidentally facing him.

“Well, okay I mean yes — it’s a gun, but I had no choice. Had to momentarily keep it here, alright? I took it in for a friend and —”

“What are you, some kind of hitman?” You shake your head, earrings jangling a little with your stressed little gesture which would usually warm his heart if he wasn’t focused on deescalating.

“Okay, first of all— why don’t I take this from you missy,” He eases the gun out of your hands and accidentally fumbles it inside his locker, the weapon clattering against the echoey walls making him let out a quiet ‘whoops’ before placing a black gym bag on top of it. He turns to you. “Secondly, no okay I’m not a hitman— I haven’t ever shot a person with this thing.”

“Then… why do you have it?” You furrow your brows, seeming to have calmed down a little, which was relieving despite your reaction being totally valid.

“W—you know, gotta stay strapped. Protect my people.” He shrugs, attempting nonchalance and your eye twitches, realising how different the two of you are. JJ, bad boy with a gun in his locker— and you, straight arrow waitress. “Look all m’saying is if you told me someone was messing with you… I wouldn’t hesitate.”

You stare at him dumbfounded, wondering what on Earth he was going through to lead him to owning a gun, but you daren’t ask— even now. You eye him, brows knitting cutely.

“And you’re sure you’re not some serial killer?” You ask, folding your arms. Mostly joking. Mostly.

“Yeah nah I couldn’t do the whole choppin’ up dead bodies thing, m’pretty squeamish n’I got this thing with my gag reflex where y’know, I — I just—” He gestures to his throat, head bobbing with a preemptive gag but sees the way you’re staring at him like he’d just stepped off a space ship from Mars and decides against the bit, clearing his throat and glancing into his locker. “Enough of that uh— why don’t I go ahead and grab you that shirt you were after…” He reaches inside his locker, pulling out balled up white shirt, quickly turning it back from being inside out.

“There y’go…” He murmurs as he does so to no one in particular before shoving his arms inside and pulling the head hole wider before stuffing you inside it, tugging it until your head pops out, still staring at him a little dumbfounded. “Peekaboo.” He smiles nervously before leaving you to shove your own arm holes through, pulling it down over your tank top. He awkwardly watches before you hand him back his key and he locks his locker once more, glancing around at you.

“So about the—”

“Your secrets safe with me JJ. Thanks for the shirt.”

You swan around in the white fabric like it’s a ball gown for the rest of the day. Delusional didn’t feel like the right word, no— he gave you the shirt, which in your head is flirting— handing you the opportunity to daydream about being his girlfriend and wearing his clothes all the time. Each time you moved you could smell him on you, that faint smell of cigarettes and just him — reminding you of the times you’ve caught him on a rough shift fumbling for a pack of Marlboro Red’s and heading out the back door to be angsty for a while before returning with a plastered on smile. You bite your lip, staring into space as you rub the material between your fingers, waiting for a table to flag you down, excited for the next time you could go into the kitchen and see him… have him see you, wearing his shirt only hoping it hot-wires his brain with some sort of romantic association. Oh, JJ Maybank. He just made you so… so…

“Ugh, mmph JJ!” You cry out, later that night. Guilty, you ended up in nothing but the t-shirt and two fingers stuffed into your weeping cunt. You felt kind of perverse, despite the million promises to yourself to wash the shirt immediately after to return to him— but also there was just something painfully arousing about touching yourself wearing it— every layer beneath it removed to have your hardened nipples peak beneath the thin white fabric, tousled and jostled up where your ribcage was as you grind your digits inside of you.

You were home alone, like usual — which gave you the perfect opportunity to moan his name. Too horny to care about the 0.05% chance he’s strolling in your area and walking past the window, hearing. Even the idea of that aroused you further in the moment, wondering just what he’d think if he knew the sweet and harmless waitress was defiling her cunt in his name, in his shirt. You think about best case scenario, the blonde with his rough hand around his cock— and you knew it was rough from the way it felt when he’d touch your arm or brush against your fingers when handing you a dish. Rough from working on his bike and handling hot food and other Maybank shenanigans that still lead him to fist at his dick in his room at night thinking of you, you and only you.

You cum in your palm and feel disgraced. Poor JJ. You’re a total pervert and you must wash that shirt.

Except you don’t, and you fall asleep— returning to work in your spare uniform the next day. Empty handed. JJ doesn’t notice, hell — he doesn’t care. He’s stacked up with so many orders you almost feel bad even though it’s not your fault. Maybe you’re still riding off the guilt of masturbating in his shirt. There’s a sick sense of pride that twists in your gut when you look at him though. Boyish, sometimes thoughtless blonde with no idea that you came so hard moaning his name just a matter of hours before facing him again. You catch him in a quieter moment, leaning over to his station with a stressed expression to tell him that you forgot to bring his shirt back, to which he just responds with a shrug and a careless wave that read as ‘It’s cool.’ That was the JJ you knew. Cool, calm, didn’t give a shit. You got butterflies at the minute gesture. God, get a grip.

The next time it comes up, it’s because he brings it up. Catching you on your break, a cheekful of pasta he’d made for you to quickly cram down before your manager gets onto you for slacking off— JJ approaches your little table outside, blonde hair feathery and light in the sun. “Howdy there, shirt thief.” He grins lightheartedly, pulling out the other chair on the small circle table you sat at and straddling it backwards, leaning his arms on the backrest.

You nearly choke on your pasta at the speed you go to explain yourself— way to not make yourself seem guilty. “It’s in the washing machine, I literally just kept forgetting I’m sorry JJ.” You look all sweet and worried in the way that makes him wanna pinch your cheeks, so he fiddles with his lighter instead, flicking it on and off in his grasp.

“Nah you’re good.” He chuckles, staring out at the water the restaurant overlooked. It was a windier day, and even from where you sat you could hear the loud roaring of distant waves. “Hey uh— you want a ride home on the old bike? I can come in and grab it if like— if that’s cool.” He suggests, almost seeming a bit hesitant, nervous even.

“Oh! Yeah, I mean I’d have to stick it in the dryer first but you’re free to hang out whilst it dries… unless you really gotta go then, you can have your shirt back damp, I guess.” You mirror the nervous energy tenfold, practically stumbling over yourself to not sound as eager as you were. JJ, in your house.

“Yeah, sweet. Cool cool cool cool.” He bops his head, drumming on the table before suddenly his name was called from inside.

“Maybank! These fish aren’t gonna fry themselves, you know that right?” The tough, unmistakable chain smoker voice of your manager rings through the air and JJ winces theatrically for your entertainment, making you giggle the same way a child might after a party clown does something stupid. It was kind of pathetic, but atleast JJ found it endearing.

You weren’t lying about the shirt, thankfully. Honest — the JJ smell was gone so you’d tossed it in the washing machine before you’d head out onto your shift, planning on finally (reluctantly) returning it the next day.

He pushes himself up to leave, before pausing and leaning over the table towards you. You freeze, and he brings his thumb to your cheek — swiping away a speck of sauce from the pasta that has splattered into your skin from how greedily you wolfed down his food. “Lemme just… get that for you.” He mutters as he does so, turning his thumb around to show you the sauce stain that had transferred to his skin and ease your confusion.

If that wasn’t bad enough, he holds your gaze as he leans back, bringing his thumb to his mouth, cleaning off the sauce. Oh, you sick bastard. He doesn’t even try and hide his smirk— and you stare dumbly at the space he stood even after he’s long gone.

The shift dragged on, tip tapping your feet whenever you stood still for too long, excited bubbles in your stomach fizzing up like shaken pop everytime you thought about the linecook. It felt like hours longer than usual, but finally — the end of your shift came. JJ’s had ended twenty minutes earlier, being replaced by another chef whose plates were always too hot and spoke too loud, making the last stretch of your working hour even tougher. You thought JJ might have forgotten about your little arrangement, just taking off to head home or to go and smoke on the rickety little boat you’d seen him on— but lo and behold, you step out the doors to that wretched place and there he is, leaning on his bike like something out of an 80s movie.

“No helmet?” You’re grinning by the time you reach him, barely containing your excitement. You don’t think you’ve even been on the back of one of these bikes before, let alone with the boy you’re crushing on. JJ scrunches his nose, wincing.

“Wasn’t countin’ on having anyone else on board today, that’s my bad.” He helps you climb on, ensuring you’re sat securely. “I’m a good driver, you’ll be alright. Just uh— hold on tight and I’ll avoid any big potholes, yeah?” He reaches back, taking your arms and wrapping them around his middle, forcing you against his warm back. He’d probably done that for plenty of people, the way it came naturally to him— but in that moment you didn’t care, just nodding as you leant more against him. You tell him your address, and he recognises it, someone he knows living near by. With that, the two of you are off.

You’re truly in bliss, closing your eyes with your cheek pressed to his back, wind whipping past your face. He is a good driver, and you dare even let yourself believe he’s being extra careful with you on board, none of the harsh turns or skids you’ve seen him do on the streets alone. Your cheeks start to ache with how much you’re smiling.

“You all good back there my lil’ backpack?” He pats your leg in a friendly manner at a stop light and you giggle, embarrassed with how fast goosebumps break out.

“Yeah, this is fun!” You yell at an unnecessary volume to be heard over the running engine, making him chuckle and glance round at you.

“Good, that’s good.”

You’re almost sad when the ride is over, his wheels coming to a slow as he parks up haphazardly beside your front lawn. You’re quick to pat your head down, knowing that journey must have you looking dishevelled at best and hop off the bike, patting the pocket of your shorts for your keys.

“My humble abode awaits.” You chirp, cringing afterwards but he smirks and follows you regardless, pulling up his pants boyishly as he stalks behind you up to your front door. Inside your head is a chant, one that consists of hoping and praying your parents wouldn’t be home so you didn’t have to do the whole awkward explanation thing, not that you didn’t have a totally valid excuse — and you were grown, so interacting with boys shouldn’t be the awkward dilemma that it was — but to them you were still their sweet girl regardless of age, and you’d like to keep it that way, which wouldn’t be possible being spotted ushering Pogue King JJ Maybank into your bedroom.

You unlock the door, calling out a ‘hello’ to be met with miraculous silence. JJ shuffles in behind you, closing the door for you and whistling quietly. “This place is pretty fancy, yeah… bet you got like, an electric toothbrush n’shit.” He comments, neck craning to look around as he follows you slowly through the house.

You huff a laugh out your nose, cheeks pressing upwards as you stroll through toward the kitchen. “An electric toothbrush?” You question.

“Yeaaah man, kook shit.” He peers nosily at the calendar, eyeing the events your family have coming up.

You spot a note pinned to the fridge and head towards it, shaking your head. “If I was a kook I wouldn’t be working at a restaurant getting coffee poured down me. Are electric toothbrushes the pinnacle of wealth in your eyes?” You laugh quietly, pulling the note off the fridge.

“Dude in eighth grade I lost my toothbrush and for a year all I had was my finger, some toothpaste and a dream.” He chats, appearing directly behind you and plucking the note from your hand. “Out ‘til late, pizza in fridge.” He reads blankly out loud and you take it back from him, tossing it aside.

“How’d you lose a toothbrush?” You chuckle, leading him out the kitchen.

“I be in situations.” He shrugs, following you to the short flight of stairs. To his core, JJ was truly just a guy— and took very little pride in watching you climb a few steps before he joined you so that he could check out your ass.

“Bet your dentist loved you.” You comment, glancing behind you at him making his eyes snap upwards guilty. He scoffs, wiping his hands on his pants like he was worried about dirtying up your house before grasping onto the bannister, skipping a few steps to hop up.

“Yeah, like I could afford one of those.”

On the landing, you point him towards the hallway, stepping back once you realised you were practically standing on top of him. He didn’t seem to notice, or mind, staring down at you for direction. “My rooms the last door on the right. I’m gonna go toss your shirt in the dryer, ‘kay?”

He nods once, strolling in the direction you pointed him. “Yes ma’am.”

You head to the laundry room and take a moment to collect yourself, sniffing his shirt to make sure it was properly clean before stuffing it into the dryer to turn it on. You lean against its circular door as it starts up, taking a breath before realising you left JJ Maybank alone in your bedroom.

You arrive at the door to your girly haven, immediately yanking a pair of panties off the ground and throwing them into a corner as you spot the blonde by the window, curiously looking around.

“So this is where the magic happens, I assume.” He glances at you, swiping his hat off his head and placing it on your dresser. Something about his gaze and the way it continually flickered to you, waiting for an answer suggested it was a genuine question. He was asking if you were seeing anyone, perhaps. You giggle.

“And if by magic you mean napping after work and reading books, yeah. It gets so magical in here, you wouldn’t believe it.” You sit on your bed, watching him semi-awkwardly pace infront of you, running hands through his hair before stuffing them into his pockets.

“Ah yeah, ha— forgot you were a real good girl. Should stay that way, I like it— and I mean like, there’s hella weirdos round here. Y’know? Better to… steer clear.” He rambles as you watch him with a smile. At work, the blonde seemed more calm, in his element— but here, in your terrain— he seemed slightly more on edge. You tried not to read into it.

Your stomach warms at the ‘good girl’ comment, lashes fluttering only a little before he’s distracted once more. You see him gazing ahead at the shelf above your vanity, opposite the bed where all your baby photos were lined up. His smile grows, and you see the cogs turn in his head.

He strides towards it in an instant, taking the framed image off the shelf. You jump up, following him to try and save yourself the embarrassment of whatever he was looking at but it was too late. He grins, turning his head to look down at you. “Oh wow, now don’t tell me this is you?” He holds the photo up beside your head, glancing theatrically between the two to compare and you bat him away.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re nosy?”

“Oh yeah, all the time. That, that is adorable though.” He’s immediately distracted by another photo, setting the one in his hand down to pick it up. “And who’s this?” He lifts the picture of your mother holding you as a baby.

“My mother.”

“Total fox. As expected.”

“Okay, no more for you.” You hide your amusement well, reaching out for the photo and grabbing it. He puts up little fight, letting you snatch the frame from his larger hand as he reaches for another, making a total mess of your embarrassing nostalgia display. This last picture is of you, around 5 years old— adorned in a pink princess dress and a plastic tiara, grinning at the camera.

“Aw.” He smirks, turning his body to face you. “Guess some things never change. Still a pretty princess.” You’re not sure if he’s mocking you now, because he’s tonguing at the cut on his lip which makes you gain a second heartbeat in your panties and you freeze up— which in itself is more embarrassing that this whole ordeal. He was a tease by nature he’ll admit, but this — this was fun. Seeing you get flustered was his new favourite thing.

You give him the exact reaction he’s after, failing to hide your smile as you lurch for the frame. He hides it behind his back and you stumble into him, stabilising yourself with both hands on his chest. He’s all… warm, and firm.

There’s a silence, but things are never quiet for too long with JJ. Thankfully.

“Damn, if you wanted to touch me up you could’a just asked. Pro’lly would’a said yes.” The smirk is yet to fade, infact you think it’s permanently stamped onto his mouth and your eyes widen just a smidge— scrambling for a witty comeback that didn’t make you look like a perverse idiot.

“I dunno, after you made fun of my baby pictures? Think I owe you two black eyes.” You tilt your head sweetly, proud of the response and his eyes flicker over your expression, eyes softening just a tad. Or maybe you imagined it.

“‘Think that’s a little extreme. How ‘bout a kiss instead?” You freeze, because it’s then you realise how close the two of you are still. Hes practically got you caged against your vanity, can probably hear how fast he’s got your heart beating— maybe smell the pathetic dribble of arousal seeping into your underwear just from being this close to him. You can’t tell if he’s kidding, and it seems he even caught himself a little off guard, blinking a few times during your stunned silence.

But then you look at his mouth, because asking a question like that is totally giving you permission to do so, and he takes that as an answer and leans in.

You’re so hypnotised when his mouth starts moving against yours that you nearly jump out of your skin when his large hands bracket your waist, pulling your body more flush against his. JJ was a good kisser, which lead you to indeed that he was infact— a whore. Well, maybe a former whore. Whatever, in that moment it didn’t matter— nothing mattered, just JJ and his tongue that was sliding against yours as the kiss heated up.

It feels like hours that your tongues are looping round eachother, snapped out the moment by the hungry blondes hands sliding down, your waist in his grip becomes suddenly your ass cheeks through your shorts, squeezing and pulling you against him practically lifting your entire body. It’s then you realise you having a working voice box, because you let out the most pathetic mewl you’ve ever heard yourself make. Even more pathetic than the noises you made only a few nights ago from your own hand.

He groans back almost as like a response, and with that — finally, he manoeuvres you to start walking backwards towards the very bed you fell apart on at the thought of what you were currently doing, or about to do. Your lips detach when the backs of your knees hit the bed, falling to sit down at the edge of it with a few bounces. He stares down at you for a couple of seconds, disorientated and sore-mouthed like even he can’t believe what’s happening— before he jumps into action. Jittery and clumsily like he always is.

“Should probably uh— if we’re gonna get on the bed I don’t wanna— poke you with somethin’” He stuffs his hands into his pockets, unloading them. His phone, his keys, earphones, cigarettes, wallet, other random knickknacks that would otherwise make you raise an eyebrow if you weren’t already so dazed by him. He’s about to return to you, before his mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, as if he just remembered something — and he reaches into the back of his pants, pulling up the shirt that hung over his waistband to there retrieve his gun. He holds it up with a smile that said ‘How silly of me!’

You gape. “JJ, why do you have that?”

He shuffles some things around on your vanity, scrambling to make space for the piece. “Uh, had to bring it home today… lemme just… set that down there.” He places it next to your jewellery stand, the contrast in the items almost making you laugh in disbelief. “The old problem solver.” He mutters, giving it a fond pat before turning back to you, happy to carry on.

“What if my parents were to come home and see that?” You challenge with a pout, not too keen about him bringing a weapon into your house. He huffs out a smirk, leaning back down to where you’re sat, hands on your shoulders as he slowly lays you down.

“Think they’d be a little more concerned about the dirty pogue on top of their little girl, but y’know…” His words get lower and lazier as he draws in before locking his lips onto yours again, this time wasting no time with introducing his tongue.

You’re back in the zone, gun long forgotten within seconds— running your hands through his hair, over his strong arms, touching everywhere you’ve wanted to touch since you started working at the restaurant. Well, not everywhere.

He’s not holding back on being handsy either, body slotted between your legs after he lifts you further up the bed, grappling at your thighs, hips, and eventually tits. You can’t blame him, there’s desperation behind both of your actions — the fact you’d both wanted this for a while now slowly becoming clear. Your heart thumps hard at this realisation, suddenly less able to breathe and you pull back panting, breath trembling.

His eyes flicker over your face, watching your wet mouth as you ramble. “Wanted— mmph— wanted this for a while.”

He drags his lips over your cheek, pressing his hips against yours and you can feel him hardening. It does little to help you calm down. “Yeah, same… Is it… uh, is it weird I kinda didn’t want you to wash the shirt before givin’ it back to me?” He smiles, dropping another toothy peck to your mouth as his hands continue feeling you up.

Your eyes flutter closed once more when he softly grinds his bulge against your cunt, your knees tightening against his hips as you let out a silent moan, lips parted.

“H-had to. I slept in it.” You admit before you think, brain focused on other things. He laughs quietly against your jaw, smoothing his tongue over the now bitten skin.

“Aw, you did?” He creates some space between the two of you, his hand very slowly starting to trail down your body, past your stomach. “You got it so bad for me, huh?” He teases and you whine, openly and pathetically— spoiled and childish even. JJ didn’t seem the type to talk about his feelings easily, but teasing you for yours was outright mean.

“Shutup.” Comes with the whine, your breath catching pathetically as you feel the rumble of him slowly unzipping your shorts zipper at your crotch, lips detaching from your jaw for a second to look at what he’s doing, still chuckling.

“Thats rude.” He grins, quiet and lighthearted, elated when you start helping him pull your shorts down and kicking them carelessly off. If he wasn’t so desperate to get his hands on you, he would have taken more time to appreciate your cute little cotton panties with the bow on top. They were so you, exactly the sort he pictured you wearing, moreso pictured you soaking through the way you were now.

His hand slides over the length of your covered cunt, all but cupping you and pushing his fingers over the embarrassing amount of wetness on the fabric. “What else did you do in the shirt, hm? Talk me through it babe.”

He’s teasing you, not truly expecting much of an answer as he genuinely believed a sweet girl like you wouldn’t have the gall to do anything but sleep in his shirt. His lips trail down the centre column of your neck, and it bobs with a harsh swallow. Now, his interest is piqued.

“Can’t say!” You whimper, eyes screwed up, legs spreading wider as he gently thumbs at your clit through the fabric, just enough to stimulate you. You feel him remove his mouth from you, lifting his head into your direct eyeline with an amused raise of the brow.

“Well now sweetheart, you’re just gonna have to tell me.” His fingers tuck into the leg hole of your panties, like he wants to pull it aside but won’t. You realise he’s still watching you, waiting for an answer and that he’s not gonna go further until you speak. “Don’t be shy, tell Papa J what you—”

“Touched myself. I touched myself.” You release all in one breath. Now it’s his turn to ogle you, completely off guard. If he wasn’t hard as a rock before, he certainly was now. Probably leaking in his boxers too from how things felt down there. This was poor performance from him, he thought at the back of his mind. This fucked so early on? Shit, he knew he liked you but c’mon.

He peels your panties to the side and you squeak, the boy making no effort to touch you still— just letting the cool air of your room grace your glossy folds.

“And why would you do something like that, baby?” He noses at your cheek, trying to get you to open your eyes. You squeeze them harder before fluttering them open, so hot in the face and embarrassed when you find his gaze you think you might just die.

“Because I like you.” You whisper. It’s sweet, just like he thought you’d be when the time comes. He smiles, dimple deepening as his free hand cups your cheek.

“Because you like me.” He repeats in affirmation. It’s a little smug, he’ll admit — but having his dream girl beneath him had his ego on ten, what can he say. He slides two fingers through your wetness, dragging what he collected up your clit and circling it making you arch your back. “Gotta say, the feelings definitely mutual.”

He kisses you again, and this time it feels like something else. Like a confession, a proposal of some sort. It’s passionate, overwhelming in the best way, intimate — as his fingers start to move, stroking your clit and making your legs tremble in adrenaline.

As you writhe and moan beneath him, his lips swallowing as many as he can, unable to stay away— his other hand starts to slide up your work shirt. You wished you’d been wearing something sexier the first time the two of you got it on, but clearly it sort of did something for him.

If the speed at which he located and stimulated your clit wasn’t enough to convince you that the boy definitely had experience, it would be the way his hand slides around to your back, unhooking your bra singlehandedly. You can’t help but giggle through your whimpers and you’re not sure why, but he smiles too— murmuring “Party trick.” against your mouth. The smile is wiped from your face when his digit glides around your hole, as if lapping up all the wetness and then pushing in— all the way to the knuckle.

You moan and tense up a little, it’s been a while and your own fingers were definitely smaller than his. At your reaction. he pulls back only slightly— a look of concern poorly masked on his face.

“Are you… have you uh, been with a guy before? Or is this…”

“One guy, a while back. Not good at all.” You sigh and he nods patiently, lips twitching up when he starts to move his finger and your eyes flutter involuntarily. “Think I can work with that.”

He twists his wrist a little, working you with just one finger as he paws at your free’d tit, sucking on your tongue. You moan, the sound of your own wetness having its own presence in the room and he hums, pulling back to look down at the way you’re sucking his middle finger in.

“So pretty, you’ve been holdin’ out on me baby. Should be a crime to hide this cute little pussy, damn.” He whispers and you whine in preemptive embarrassment to the way you clench around him, making him chuckle again. “Oh yeah? She liked that, huh?”

“More, please—” You nearly choke on your own swallow as you lift your head, looking down at the way he’s got you spread out. Reaching downwards you gently tug at his wrist, not quite sure of the aim. “N—‘nother one.” You pant. Jeez, already totally fucked dumb and he hasn’t even made you cum. You were going to give JJ Maybank an even bigger head.

He doesn’t say anything, just sinks two fingers into your cunt and you make a noise he’s only heard in amateur porn videos from Twitter, dick usually nestled in his fist. He presses his lips together in a quiet ‘Mhm’ and your hands are back on him, desperate once more to consume him wholly.

Your nails rake through his hair as he finds his rhythm, tonguing at the cut on his lip with wide observant eyes that flicker between your face and your cunt. “Look at you go.” He responds to a moan— but JJ being JJ knows he can do better, which is why he stops thumbing at your nipple and pushes his hand into the bed instead, using the weight on his arm to start sliding down your body.

The first kiss against your stomach catches you off guard, and if you weren’t so dizzy from pleasure you might wanna think about it more. He repositions his hand, stroking your inner thigh as he pushes them wider apart and shushes you, now face to face with your glistening pussy. His fingers slow their movements for a moment.

“She’s real pretty.” His fingers slide out so he can make messy doing of spreading your folds with his fingers, licking his already wet lips.

“Thank you.” You mewl happily, eyes watery as they gaze down at him like he hung the moon and stars for you.

“You’re so sweet.” He smiles genuinely and fairly innocently up at you as he strokes your thigh affectionately— before of course counteracting that by shooting out a thick bubbling glob of spit directly onto your clit, making your jaw drop. Lifting your thighs, he murmurs. “So sweet you get me hard. S’kinda unfair… at work.” Before he chases the spit with the flat of his tongue, bringing the muscle up to then wrap his lips around your clit and suck.

No noise can leave you for a few seconds, brows furrowed and jaw dropped in a silent moan until he forces the noise out of you by stuffing his fingers back inside your weeping hole.

“Oh— oh, JJ!” Your toes curl and in record time you feel your first orgasm approaching. It’s different from the ones you give yourself, it’s a ball of fire in your stomach and heat licking up your spine, eyes even watering at the exertion.

“Yeah say my name, c’mon.” He coaches you, moving his tongue faster like he’s competing with himself to make you cum.

“JJ, mmpph— feels— it feels—” You nearly sob.

“How’s it feel?”

“M’gonna—”

“Cum, babydoll. I got you.”

White noise. Like, almost the sounds of waves crashing. It doesn’t really feel like you’re a person anymore — but one thing is for certain. You have never cum like that in your life. You must of been on autopilot, moaning and whining pathetically, slurring out nonsense and maybe a twisted version of his name— but when you come back to Earth you’re near hyperventilating.

You slap at his shoulders with shaky hands because his lips are still latched onto your pulsing nub, fingers still squelching and working the release out of you. “Ok—okay, Jayj— please!” You let out a pathetic little cry and he eases up, pushing himself off you with a satisfied hum and grinning cheekily, letting you push out his fingers. You suck in shaky breaths, letting him soak in the moment by bringing his fingers to his mouth and cleaning them off.

“Better than anything I make, can tell you that.” He jokes. “Taste that shit, s’fuckin’ delicious.” He eases his fingers into your mouth, letting you suck off the remains with a humiliated mewl before removing them, leaning over you to kiss you. God, it’s embarrassing how much you soaked his face. Really, how it ended up on his forehead— you wasn’t sure. You were too focused on your own taste he was forcing into your mouth with his tongue, purposeful and cocky, making sure to roll his own wet muscle over your tastebuds so that you never forget who made you cum that hard.

It’s then, and only then he realises you’re freaking a little and lets you off for a break, cupping your cheek as he pulls back. “Are you good?” He chuckles and you inhale deeply, still trembling. You’re not sure what he does, because everything’s all hazy but he manhandles you a little until he’s cradling you in strong biceps, brow creased. “Did I go too hard? I may— may have gotten a lil’ carried away there. My apologies.” He holds up a hand that wasn’t cradling you.

“Was just— haven’t — it’s never felt like that before. Never felt that good.” You admit, which brings back his dimple and that sickeningly soft look in his eyes.

“What can I say, you deserve the best there is when it comes to receiving orgasms, and I,” He presses his mouth back on yours, kissing you between each word. “Am the best, there, is, at, giving them.” On the last kiss you lean into it, holding him there, as you’re ambushed by an unexpected feeling.

Some kind of surge in your stomach, like butterflies but bigger, your heart pounding. If you weren’t so dazed you’d be worried the L word was coming to doom you early. The feeling made you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him back ontop of you, jean clad bulge pressed back against your sensitive heat as you moan, high pitched and happy against him.

He pulls back to make some kind of joke, maybe a comment about your recovery time but you beat him to the chase, staring up into his dilated pupils with love hearts occupying your own. “Wanna make you feel good, Jayj.”

“You—how—”

You suckle on your bottom lip, hand bravely travelling down to cup the bulge that was calling to attention in his jeans. His breath catches in his throat, lips parting to let out a quiet and surprised groan.

“I’ve never—” Your face is hot again. “Never given a blow job before but—”

“Next time. Yeah? If you’ll let me I kinda just… wanna fuck you.” He smirks and hides it in your jawline, almost too shy in the moment to look you in the eye. Your brows furrow with a silent whimper at his words.

“Next time?” You mewl happily like you’re floating on air. At this he pulls back, a hopeful grin.

“If you’ll have me, that is. Figured I should take you out on a real date.”

You don’t have time to respond, he doesn’t let you— perhaps out of nerves. Instead, he’s working your panties that had been pushed to the side down your legs, followed by pulling your tshirt over your head. “Peekaboo, there she is.” He smiles quietly and you giggle, thinking back to the time at the locker where he pulled his shirt over your head. You toss your loose bra away from the bed, now laying bare beneath him.

He sits back on his knees, hands instinctually lifting to his head like he wanted to fix his hat, a habit you noticed of his that would occur when he’s overwhelmed or in awe. He settles on running his hands through the blonde tresses instead, big goofy smile on his face.

“Holy shit. I mean like — holy shit.” He breathes and you turn your head shyly, then reaching out to tug at his shirt.

“You too.” You gesture to his shirt and he offs it within a second, not wanting to look away from your naked body from a minute. Once his hands are free again, he’s sliding them up to your chest, greedily massaging your tits in both hands.

“Fuck, you are so fine. I mean like I think I nearly came in my pants.” He admits quietly and you tug at his belt, having to remind him of what you were actually doing.

“C’mon, Jayj— want you to fuck me!” You whine, all doe eyes and pouts, not even registering how pathetic and desperate the sentiment was — only making his cock throb harder. He buckles slightly, like it physically pains him and he nods quickly, fumbling with his belt until he could pull his jeans down just enough to release himself.

It’s long, pink and pretty like you expected — pearly precum gathering at his tip. He grasps it infront of you, eyes flickering between yours and his dick, suddenly looking hesitant. “So uh, this is what m’ working with.” He announces awkwardly, overthinking everything — but it doesn’t matter because you’re wrapping a delicate hand round it, guiding him to your entrance.

“Woah there missy, okay uh— hold your horses. This job don’t pay either of us enough for you to get knocked up.” He side rolls off the bed hobbling over to the dresser for his wallet, retrieving a condom and returning. You would have laughed, but you get all embarrassed and teary eyed about how overly eager you’d been.

“Sorry. I wasn’t thinkin’.” You pout and his eyes flutter up to yours, kneeling between your legs.

“Hey? You’re good.” He tears the packet open with his teeth and you clench around nothing. “You’re good.” He repeats, stroking your thigh as he eases the rubber onto his cock. “Still up for it, babe?”

You bite your lip with a sniffly giggle, nodding and he grins himself, laying on top of you to press a sloppy kiss to your mouth. He pulls away, and he lines himself up before slowly easing himself in.

Your legs around his waist hug him tighter and your toes curl at the stretch, wincing. “You got it.” He encourages, voice breathier like it teetered on a moan which only made you flutter around him.

“S’big, JJ.” You whimper and he huffs against your neck.

“I— thanks.”

Once he’s in, he’s in — and you can see how his fingers and tongue were only just the appetiser. He fucks like it’s the last time, like his life depends on it— rolling his hips, his hands somehow in ten places at once, his tongue — oh his tongue, it’s in your mouth, then down your neck, then looping around your nipple making you clench and whine and cry.

He starts to speed up, unable to control himself as his hands slide under your lower back to hold you, thumbing at your waist. “Shit, shit, shit.” He grits his teeth, having to contain himself there and then from cumming when he sees the way your tits bounce beneath him. “Takin’ that shit so good, huh? Jesus baby.” He wrinkles his nose in exertion, panting.

“S’just so good, JJ— mmph!”

“Yeah? Y’gonna think of this everytime I see you, shit, everytime I see you in the kitchen? Givin’ me those big sexy fuck me eyes everytime I hand you a plate? Shit baby, pretty little waitress, huh. N’ you’re all mine now. So freakin’ lucky.” Hes rambling, nonsensical— already pussy drunk.

You’re in ecstasy. Not only from how he felt, but from how you were making him feel. It occurred to you that no one seems to talk about the validation you receive from finally getting to fuck your crush, watching them come apart over you. You wanted more, wanted to impress him.

In a trance, you push at his stomach, shuffling upwards so he reluctantly pulls out, concern on his clammy face. You fumble, rolling onto your front, sticking your ass in the air, looking over your shoulder.

“Please.” You plead, and you’re not sure what for— but it works, the blonde puffing out his cheeks with a dramatic exhale, lining himself behind you and pushing in. “Gonna be the death of me, babydoll.”

You may have overestimated your abilities, crying pathetically when he bottoms out, his cock feeling ten times it’s size from this angle.

“Arch that back baby, there you go, just like that.” He whispers, pressing down on your lower back making you sob. You fuck back against him, pressing your cheek to your pillow, fingers curling into it for security. “Good girl, that’s right.” He drops a hand beneath you, finding your clit once more and as a surprise ambush, you cum— suddenly and embarrassingly, gushing around his cock leaving a ring of cream at his base.

He doesn’t stop this time, giving you a moment to catch your breath as you whine and mewl like a distressed kitten. No, if anything — he goes harder, his own release on the precipice. The bed is creaking now, wooden headboard smacking the wall as he leans his weight on the back of your arms, pelvis slapping against your ass. Little squeaks are punched out of you with each thrust, and when you think he’s reached a crescendo— he slows.

“Fuck, fuck turn around baby. Need to see that pretty face to cum, c’mon.” He pants in one breath, fighting you back onto your back and sliding back in with ease this time, pushing one knee up to your chest and rolling his hips, eyes squeezed shut.

He tries to keep them open, eyes everywhere— your tits, your big wet eyes, your lips. Like he can’t help himself, he sloppily cups your cheek, a thumb brushing your bottom lip. Wanting to help him along in your post orgasm brain-fog, your tongue peeks out, trying to catch the finger as he bounces you on his cock. Once you’ve got it, you wrap your lips around it, sucking with devotion and love hearts in your eyes.

“Oh my— god” He whimpers, finally dropping his cheek to your chest as he ruts into you, spilling his seed. You moan at the feeling, scratching at his back and fluttering around him. The butterflies return.

After ten minutes, you’re laying on his thick bicep— his blunt fingernails scratching your scalp at the bottom of your skull. The dryer beeps distantly, signifying that it’s completed its cycle.

Maybank is staring at you, like he’s trying to memorise your face, like it’s the last time he’ll ever see you. An amused smile breaks out onto your face, trying to hide it in his arm as you press a kiss there. At this, a grin spreads on his own face, questioning.

“You know… I do actually have an electric toothbrush.”

“I freaking knew it.”

#linecook!jj #jj maybank fic 🎀

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spookysteddie · 2 months

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Cover Girl

modern!rockstar!Eddie Munson x Influencer!reader

cw: public nudity, topless photoshoot, album covers, implied smut at the end, pet names.

wc: 1.5k

A/N: I hope you enjoy this little one shot! The aesthetic for this is very much 'Ethel Cain' (sorry not sorry) and the 70s style wood paneling even though that has like very little to do with the fic? Anyway, I enjoyed writing this!!

...

You’ve done a lot of photoshoots in your life. Some for magazines, some for your social media, some for brands. So many that, at this point, you shouldn’t be this nervous.

This photoshoot is different.

This photoshoot is for Corroded Coffins album. The cover of the album to be exact, so you’re practically shitting yourself as your team finishes your makeup. Your team thought this would be an incredible opportunity and the rest of the band was more than excited. According to Eddie, it was their idea and they practically begged him to agree to it.

“Are you excited?” Your hair stylist asks you and she fixes your hair. It’s supposed to be… effortlessly messy. There is a very high chance no one will even see your hair but better to be safe than sorry.

You smile at her through the mirror, being careful not to disturb your makeup artist, “yes and no. We haven’t been together long so I’m just scared.”

Which was true.

You had this weird fear that if you and Eddie broke up during this albums era, it would be the end of your career. Your therapist, of course, reminded you how harmful that mindset could be. You agreed but it didn’t mean it didn’t chew at the back of your mind. The chances of that happening were extremely low, but there was still a chance. Then your voice is immortalized on his album along with your body and face on his album covers.

Eddie, to his credit, had reassured you that he didn’t care. Well, not that he didn’t care, he cares about you and your feelings. But the point is that, in his own words, even if you two didn't work out, it would be a reminder of you and, allegedly, he wants to remember you for the rest of his life. It calmed your fears slightly.

Your hairstylist finishes, spraying your hair with hairspray, “well, I think you’re the perfect fit for this cover. You are so beautiful that no one would ever regret putting you on their cover art.”

You smile, your throat getting a little tight at her words. “Thank you. Means a lot.”

…

You’re in little more than a pair of blue jeans, inside a house that looks like it’s stuck in the 70s. You haven’t seen carpet like this in a very long time. It makes you laugh a little, remembering your best friends house, her parents refused to upgrade it even though they totally could’ve.

You hold a rob to your chest, leaving your back exposed but keeping your chest covered for now. Eddie smiles when he sees you, “well don’t you look pretty.”

You feel your face and body go warm, “you’re sweet.”

He kisses your forehead, more than knowing that your makeup artist will beat his ass for ruining your lipstick. “I mean it.”

You smile shyly, shaking your head a little. You know he means it but no man has ever made you feel as wanted and appreciated as Eddie does. He tells you how pretty you are at least three times a day and he always makes sure to kiss you goodnight.

Needless to say, he was perfection in a human being.

“How do you want me?” You look up at him with big eyes, eyes that make his cock twitch in his pants. He needs to give your hair and makeup team a very large bonus because you look ever more fuckable than you typically do.

Eddie hands you his precious guitar, his baby. His hands shake slightly and you can tell he’s a little nervous of letting anyone but him handle this instrument. And he is nervous. This guitar has been with him through all the ups and downs of his life.

From leaving Hawkins to signing his first record deal, that guitar has been there. It’s a reminder of where he’s been and where he’s going. Is it super easy to break guitars? No. If you happen to drop it the worst that might happen is a scratch, maybe a dent.

But you knew better than that. You reach out, gripping the neck of the guitar tightly, Eddie also holding on. You drop the robe, previously agreeing to being topless but covered by the guitar. You put the strap over your shoulder, only letting the robe go when you have the guitar covering you.

Eddie let's go and you can tell he’s trying really hard to not look at your chest, to not make you uncomfortable in front of everyone. You’re more than comfortable with your nudity, especially around Eddie, but you appreciate the respect.

You grin up at him, “again, how do you want me?” You bat your lashes at him as you ask.

He takes a shuddering breath, “we-we were thinking of having you lay down, knees under you with the guitar covering your c-chest.” Eddie swallows, letting his eyes dip to your chest for only a moment before meeting your eyes again.

You lean up, kissing him sweetly, “absolutely baby.”

You head to the middle of the room, being careful not to flash everyone as you get to your knees. “Should we start with a few of me just on my knees?” You give Eddie big bedroom eyes as you ask.

He shifts foot to foot before the photographer answers, “actually that might be a good idea! Give us some options just in case.”

You smile and pose, making sure the guitar is covering your tits correctly. The camera flashes and you blink a little, trying to wipe away the new, green specks in front of your face. But you pull it together, moving and posing in all the ways you could.

“Okay, now lay back and keep your legs under you.”

You lay back, settling yourself on the scratchy carpet and letting your hair lay around you like a halo. You let your hand curl around the neck and the other resting on the body. The strap covers your breast, the body covering the other one.

If you asked Eddie, you looked like a fucking angel. Like a little rock goddess. Eddie hasn’t ever felt this way about anyone ever. He think you’re the most beautiful woman to ever exist, not to mention so fucking kind to every single person you ever come in contact with. Eddie wishes he could be more like you in that sense.

Isn’t there a saying that's like ‘opposites attract’? That’s what you and Eddie are, opposites, but it works more than he wanted to admit. Sure, deep down he has this horrible fear he’s going to fuck it up. He knows he probably should give you more credit than he is, but he’s terrified that one wrong move and that is it. It’s how it usually went with the girls he dates.

But he knew you weren’t usual. In the good way of course. Eddie doesn’t really know why he knows, but he does. He knows the feelings he has for you run deep and ever since the string theory got brought up, he’s been feeling the tug more. It’s an emotion he doesn’t want to (and can’t) name. Eddie feels it’s just slightly too early and again he doesn’t want to scare you.

The photographer snaps photos of you from all angles, making sure to give the guys and Eddie plenty of options for the cover. They’d wanted the album cover to be simple and had confessed to Eddie that they thought you’d be perfect. They may or may not have confessed that they enjoy having you around and that they think you’re good for Eddie.

“Okay! We’re done! Great job Miss. Asher, you were beautiful as ever.” Eddie watches you smile, gripping the neck of the guitar so you don’t somehow drop it.

Eddie puts you out of your misery, handing you your robe and covering you so you can take the guitar off and slip the robe on. Once it’s settled around your shoulders he kisses the side of your head.

…

The photos and mock up of the cover come back a few weeks later. They’d all chosen the one of you on the floor, back arched slightly and not looking at the camera. You don’t know what filters they used but the photo looks old school. It looks like they took it on a disposable camera and you couldn’t love it anymore.

Eddie’s eyes get wide when he sees the finished product.

“God… this is so perfect.” He whispers it and you know he didn’t mean for you to hear it. But it’s sweet regardless.

You zoom in just a little, “god this is such a vibe and I am obsessed.”

He looks over, a big, beautiful grin on his face, “I’m glad you like it too. And um… thank you for all your help with this album.”

You smile softly, kissing him, “of course. Thank you for letting me be a part of it.”

He kisses you deeply, laying you back on the bed.

“Let me really thank you, yeah?”

You swallow, nodding, “I would love that. Always love the way you thank me.”

Eddie smirks, ducking below the covers and worshiping you till you can’t take it anymore.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #modern!rockerstar!eddie munson x influencer!fem!reader

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lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 1 year

Text

PREACHERS DAUGHTER- P.B PARKER

Pairing: Best Friend! Peter x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: you and peter were complete opposites, you the goodie two shoes preachers daughter, him the bad boy next door. yet fate has pulled the two of you together, and you can’t help but feel a certain lust for him.

Warnings: ORAL (fem), teasing, kissing, marking, pet names, best friends falling in luvvv, swearing, weed involved, booze mentioned, praise kink, masturabtion mentioned, lotsss of dirty talk, peter blowing smoke into reader mouth

based of the album- preachers daughter, by ethel cain

It was mesmerizing- the way his fingers moved.

You felt as if you were under a trance, the watch on the chain swinging back in forth in front of your eyes, hypnotizing you.

His rings, silver and shining in the pale moonlight the clock hands, the veins that ran up his wrists acted as the numbers that blurred together after some time.

Each component drew you in as his fingers strummed each string, moving up and down the fingerboard to play each chord, a sweet melody emerging from the instrument.

Your mind was far, far off from the homework you swore to yourself you would be doing tonight, despite having your best friend over. You knew you couldn't focus on anything but him, yet you let him slip through your window, with the cracked and peeling paint you refused to paint over- because you and Peter were the reason for its damage.

You refused to change anything he had touched or wrecked, whether that be the broken dresser handle that was hanging on for dear life, or the jumble of photos the two of you had pasted on your walls while drunk out of your minds.

They looked awful, all crooked and cluttered to fuck, but you didn’t touch them.

Refused to. If Peter placed them there, that's where they stayed.

You looked up at them now, gaze focusing on the smiling faces that stared back at you, that watched over your every move- in a comforting sense. Their presence lingered, as you peered back over to Peter, following the sound of strum from the strings, the sound coming to a screeching halt as he suddenly fished for something in his ripped jean pocket.

He was so beautiful when he was concentrated.

The subtlety bite of his lip, pearly whites tugging on the flesh with a sense of urgency as his jaw would clench. The way his messy, slightly ruffled russet hair would fall in front of his eyes, rings glimmering as he slid his hand through the locks to push it back into place.

You wanted to run your fingers through his hair, wanted to tug on them to make him hiss in pleasure, the way he did the one night he had decided to use your thighs as a pillow. Peter's reaction was tenuous, a slight growl escaping from the cage of his clenched teeth.

You noticed, though. You always noticed, when it came to him.

“Bunny? You want one?” he asked softly, pre-rolled in blunt twirling between his large fingers, making you stare in awe.

“Bun?”

Oh shit, you were staring.

“N-no Pete it’s okay. I’m good for now.” you smiled, a heat rising to your cheeks as you forced yourself to stare back down at your tattered notebook filled with scribbles and numbers you had no clue what to do with.

It was better than looking at his fingers and getting caught again.

Anything was.

“Alright pretty but you let me know if you want one okay? Your asshole of a father won't find out, if that's what you're worried about.” he chuckled softly, throwing you a wink as he toyed with the drug, a cat with its dinner.

Of course that's what you were worried about. You were the minister's daughter, a holy saint if there ever was one. The good girl, your father's little angel.

We have a reputation to uphold Y/L/N. Don't mess it up, or there'll be consequences. Big ones.

You had followed his words as he did with passages in that dog-eared bible of his, the rosemary beads sprawled out as a bookmark for his pages.

So, how in the world did Peter Parker- the boy wrapped in sin your father warned you about, end up as your best friend, the man you trusted with your life? You didn't know, but you were thankful for it.

It made you laugh every time Peter offered you a smoke, he knew your answer had never changed, yet he always offered anyways. He was sweet that way. It was different with weed, you supposed.

You were always terrified your father would be able to see right through you, be able to sniff the drugs on you like a hound dog. You made excuses for booze.

Your father provided red wine during Sunday services, the blood of the lord for all to taste, cannibalism in its cleanest, purest form. Counting on two hands the number of times you and Peter had snuck into the old, gothic church your father managed, getting drunk off the wine in the wooden pews under the stained glass windows was impossible.

You watched as Peter leaned his guitar against the windowsill, grabbing a lighter from his other pocket, the snake tattoos curled and wrapped along his finger seeming to hiss at you in the dim light of your room.

“Peter?” you called, making his head snap up, the fire from his light diminishing as fast as it came. “C-can I light it for you?” you asked shyly, watching as that boyish grin that you loved so much came to his face, dimples appearing as he took you in, realizing you were serious.

“You wanna be an angel and help me out eh?” he teased, making you nod frantically.

Angel.

The words alone had your toes curling in your thigh-high socks you knew Peter adored, his fingers always seeming to toy with the little black bows whenever he got the chance. He towered over you even more than he already did as he stood, making his way over to where your body was lounging on the ruffled white sheets.

“Dad’s not home ya know. I forgot about that.” you tugged on your inner cheek, watching as Peter dropped to his knees before you, like a devil about to spread its wings.

Begging for mercy before you.

“Does that mean you do wanna hit then?” he asked, blunt between his teeth as your thumb flicked the flame to life, watching the blues and oranges crackle as you lit his joint.

“Don’t know how.” you shrugged, watching as he exhaled, the sweet sickly smell of weed filling your senses as he exhaled.

“We can try something if you want bunny. D’trust me?” You nodded, eager to obey his commands. He smiled, rings cold against your chin as he grabbed it lightly, the pads of his fingers slightly calloused from the strings.

“Say ahh bunny.” You opened your mouth widely, the smoke he had inhaled floating into your mouth as he exhaled, fogging up your lungs. He was so close you could hear the thud of his heartbeat, could feel the soft heat rolling off him in waves to soothe you in a gentle embrace.

“Atta girl!” he laughed as you felt the sticky taste coat the back of your throat, mouth turning dry as the Saraha.

“Peter this tastes like shit.” you groaned, coughing and sputtering as he gently slapped your arm. “No swearing. Or else I’ll wash your mouth out with soap.” he teased, making you burst out in laughter as he rolled onto the bed, smooshing your lower half with his bodyweight- making you groan as his head lolled.

You felt your skin warm to the touch with how close he was to you, your legs parted slightly so he could wedge his way between them and rest on you.

“I gotta do my homework silly.” you smiled as he took another puff, his eyes turning a fair shade of red as he watched the smoke slither upwards.

“I can be your study buddy if ya want.”

“I’d get no work done if you were my study buddy. You distract me too much.” you teased, giggling as his hand reached over to tickle your thigh gently. “We’d make such a great team. We could be on the mathletes together bunny.”

You rolled your eyes at his sly commentary, a hand slipping through the soft, messy tumbles of his hair as he sighed in happiness. Nails began to scratch his scalp soothingly, and his chest began to rumble- purring like a cat as you tended to him.

Just as you wanted.

The curtains rustled in the breeze that snaked through the cracked window goosebumps appearing on your bare skin as the papes blew. You looked out through the glass, scoping out the graves that surrounded your house.

You could map out the entire cemetery as you had lived in this old, creaking house your entire life- could picture every little twisted path and old rusting benches that were scattered. It was peaceful here, the only real company consisted of the ghosts and Peter when he came over to visit.

Your father was never really present, too busy with the works of the church than his own flesh and blood.

It was an easy silence between the two of you, one you enjoyed immensely. It was different than the other silences you had dealt with in your lifetime- long and uncomfortable. With Peter, they were pleasant and easy, a place where you could be in your own thoughts and not feel bad about it.

You were lost in them now, as you looked down at him.

He’s never looked so beautiful. How did I get so lucky- to score him as my best friend?

Continuing your head scratches, you let your head lull against the headboard, closing your eyes to tune out the world. He continued to smoke, hand resting on your thigh with each inhale.

“You got somewhere I can put this angel?” he asked, hand waving as he gestured to the stump of the blunt, the weed diminishing. You hadn't realized how much time had passed, the hands on the clock hoping forward since the last time you had looked over at them.

“Over there is fine.” you pointed to the little dish on the dresser you had left for him whenever he was over, degrading it whenever your father returned home.

You didn't comment on how much Peter had smoked, just as you didn't comment on how much whisky your father drank whenever he got mad.

You didn't care enough.

He shuffled up, puffing the remainder towards you, the smoke cascading around your cheeks, tickling your eyelashes as the old bed creaked.

“You’re such a doll, you know that?” You smiled.

“Maybe. It's not like you tell me allll the time or anything.” you teased, poking fun at how sweet he was to you. No one was as ever kind to you as Peter was. It made your insides tingle, made your skin all sensitive to the touch.

He smiled that cheeky grin that drove you wild, tapping the ash into the dish before he crushed it with his fingers, rings glittering in the soft candlelight. Your homework was long forgotten at this point, your attention solely focused on the beautiful angel of a man that stood before you at the foot of your bed.

“Hi.” you waved to him, his hand raising to wave back from across the room.

“Hi bunny.”

“Cmere.” you insisted, and he smirked as he crawled onto the bed, the look in his eye hungry as he took you in. You looked at him now, really looked at him as his strong arms slid to each side of you, caging you in his hold.

He was black and blue, the beautiful melancholy shades in between. The way he loved was different than anything you had experienced before. It was scary, a freefall into the depths of the icy water you were scared to tread. But it was numbing- the way he cared.

A soft and sweet energy, that pricked you gently like pins and needles. His breath was warm as he refused to break eye contact and you wanted to shrink into the depths of the mattress as you felt yourself cave.

“I bet you taste so good.” he confessed softly, his words making you shudder with delight.

You knew where this was going. It was heading down the old beaten path the two of you had stumbled down so many times, when you were both drunk off sin in the walls of the church.

You liked it.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah angel. Mmm god I think about tasting you all the time, your skin, your lips, your fingertips..” he trailed off, head dropping down to your chest, rubbing his nose against the skin of your collarbone.

You felt your hips wriggle, wetness seeping into your panties. “What do you think they taste like?” you sighed as his teeth gently grazed you, biting into your flesh to mark it as his own.

“Like cinnamon n sugar. So. Fuckin. Sweet.” he kissed your neck between each word as you gigged softly, his plump lips making you squirm.

“You’re so addicting baby. The things I wanna do to you…” he smirked, licking a stipe where your silky nightgown dipped, revealing the slight curve of your breasts.

Heels were dug into the ruffled sheets, the sound of your books falling to the hardwood below echoed as the strong breeze brushed you again. No amount of wind could chill the fire that was burning in your veins right now.

“But we can’t do them. Cause we’re best friends.” you pouted, running your fingers along the back of his neck, curving them around to trace each vein that pulsed as he shivered.

“Who says?” he whispered, like he was in a trance, and you felt your dress being pushed up, up, up to pool around your waist, your stomach exposed as his head dipped down towards it.

“Best friends do everything together bunny. Don't you think about me like I think about you?” he asked mischievously and you nodded frantically.

“Mmm sometimes.”

“Cause I think about you alll the time. Think about how good you’d be for me when I’m strokin my dick.” he confessed, shuffling down to trail kisses across your stomach, your legs spreading wider as he found his home between them.

“Y-yeah?” you whimpered, heart beating so fast you heard the blood racing in your ears, his voice sounding distant. It was hard to focus, but at the same time it was hard to focus on anything but him.

The human body was a funny thing, sometimes. How yours could bend and contract to his will at the whisper of his voice, at the touch of his skin.

“Mmm yeah. You make me wanna do such bad bad things. But you’re too sweet for that.”

Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god.

“Peter-”

“Can I tase you? Please? Just a lil lick, I swear.”

You moaned at his words alone. How did they sound so sweet, so innocent when there was so much filth behind them? You could never say no to him.

Never.

“Please.” you urged, the chill breeze making you tremble as he removed your thong, your knees bent slightly over his shoulders. It happened in a blur, time seeming to jump and snap back again as he had you under his thumb, hanging onto every word he said.

The first lick sent you into overdrive, body shifting up gears as you crude out his name- hands tugging at his strands of hair as if they were reins. The faint scent of weed trickled through your nose, blemishing your skin and sweat as it trickled.

You couldn't think. Couldn't move, couldn't speak.

You and Peter had fooled around before but this…this was new territory. And it felt good. A lick turned into a taste as you heard him growl, tongue stroking through your sensitive folds again.

“You- you said just a taste-” you panted out, hips thrusting against him as he chuckled.

“I lied. You should've known.” he teased, eyes meeting yours again- stare so intense you had to look away.

It was frightening- the eye contact. It was an endless void, a freefall you weren't sure if you'd have a hand to catch you. It was filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place, a haziness that made you feel sluggish, like you had drank too much cheap booze, and smoked too many cigarettes.

You were as breathless as the summer's night outside as he dived back in, malnourished and needy as he devoured you. His lips suctioned around your clit, sucking it sweetly as you wethered and moaned.

“So so sweet…” he murmured. You felt yourself snap under him as his tongue pushed you over the edge, releasing onto his face as you cried out. His hands tightened their grip around the barricade of your thighs, chin gleaming with your juices as your body shuddered from the aftershocks.

“That's a girl. My sweet sweet angel.” he sang out, shuffling up to kiss your lips gently, the taste of yourself staining your mouth. You savored his affections, wrapping your arms around his neck, desperate for something to cling to.

You were scared to let him go, scared he would leave you vulnerable and open like all the others. He sensed your hesitation, rolling over to the side of you, nuzzling his head into your neck as you continued to hold him close.

“Was I good?” you asked meekly, your biggest fear not being enough for him.

He just smiled.

“More than good. The best.” he whispered, kissing your skin. You exhaled a sigh of relief, tension seeping from your bones as you cradled him.

You heard an owl coo out from the branches of the old oak tree that scratched your house, the wind howling against the old siding. You basked in the emptiness of the room, no one here but the two of you and the peeling posters that peered down at you from the walls.

He wasn't leaving you. He wasn't embarrassed or ashamed and he was staying with you. He wanted to do this.

It was hard to think about, hard to wrap your head around it as you had been so shameful of your desires towards him for so long. The old wooden cross that was hung above your bed seemed almost mocking as it reflected in your vanity mirror, a symbol of overcoming sin now with a meaning diminished.

“You awake?” you asked Peter softly, ripping your eyes from the wood, knowing your father's words would haunt you the longer you were left to your own avail.

There were so many responses you wanted to spew out to him.

God loves you- but not enough to save you.

But you didn’t, to save yourself the abuse of his wrath.

“Mmm.” he mumbled sleepy, the weed putting him a place of serenity and calm as he synced his breathing with yours. “Did you want me to return the favor?” you mumbled, feeling bad he didn't get the same opportunity you did.

He just shook his head. “Another time angel. Let me just… lie with you. I like when I just get to be with you like this.” he yawned, bed creaking as he slung his arm around your waist to pull you closer.

“Okay. Whatever you want.”

Silence.

You sighed, flexing your feet, then pointing your toes. The red polish glimmered as the shadows of the wax dripping off the candles bounced off the walls, the smell of the incessant to “hide” the weed smelling of sandalwood.

A truck rumbled in the distance, its tires rolling against the gravel. Peter sat up, eyes flickering to the headlights that beamed towards the house, making you feel anxious as you clung to the bedsheet.

Was your father home early? He wasn't supposed to be home until tomorrow night, and you knew if he walked in on you and Peter- you’d never hear the end of it.

“Is he home?” Peter shook his head as he moved towards the window, and you readjusted your nightgown. His hair was messy and rumpled as he stood, hands resting on the windowsill as he peered down.

A grin was on his face as he turned back to face you, your heartbeat slowing its dangerous pace with an exhale.

He wasn't home. Or else Peter wouldn't be smiling.

“Well? Who the hell is at my house at-” Your eyes flickered back to the clock. “Eleven at night?”

Peter just shrugged, a cheeky look on his face as he walked towards the bedroom door, grip on the brass handle tightening as he swung it wide open.

You heard the front door open, two familiar voices echoing from down the hallway.

Bucky and Steve.

“Look who decided to pay us a visit!” Peter laughed, making you shake your head with a smile.

Look who decided to visit indeed.

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luvbug724 · 5 months

Text

cain - jose saramago // a brother named gethsemane - natalie diaz // family tree (intro) - ethel cain // twist from peripety series — jen mazza // i am the brother of xx - fleur jaeggy // nora sakavic // genesis 4:9 // two headed lamb - bartolomeo bimbi // antigone - sophocles

#i am so normal about the twinyards #twinyards #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #all for the game #aftg #the foxhole court #tfc #web weaving

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pedropascallme · 11 months

Text

Crush

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: “The door opened and you turned toward it out of impulse. The man that was suddenly in front of you was Tess’s age, you guessed. Dark hair greying, sleeves of his denim button down rolled up to the elbows, face…mean. Joel Miller in the flesh.”

Warnings: Smut (18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), age gap (reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is canon typical age), p in v sex, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), kinda mean!Joel, degradation, praise kink, orgasm denial/edging, I will sprinkle in queer Tess. If I missed anything please let me know!

Soundtrack: Crush by Ethel Cain

Joel had a problem with saying no.

He knew it made him seem soft, but he just couldn’t get it out. There was something about becoming a father that increased the negative connotation of the word; using it as a response meant hampering the needs of someone who trusted you. Or the wants. And it was always the wants he fell victim to. Sarah knew his weaknesses—she was his biggest one. A goldfish, extra dessert, a slumber party— “Sure, darlin’.”

Sarah was all he cared about, and he’d give her everything she ever wanted, even when it meant looking like a pushover.

But his window had passed; all will to live drained and replaced by pure survivalism. He pretended to get over it out of instinct, willing himself to push everything down in order to keep going.

He didn’t mind saying no anymore. He had nobody to say it to, anyway.

Maybe that made him a bad man.

~~~

You had befriended Tess by chance. She frequented the same spots you did—speakeasies and back allies, surrounded by men she wanted nothing to do with.

At least you had that much in common with her.

Tess was older than you by maybe twenty years, and you knew nearly nothing about her. You knew her name, you knew what she did to get the extra rations she kept in her front pocket, and you knew she lived with Joel Miller. You had never pried about their relationship, and all you knew of Joel was that he was as gorgeous as his reputation was mean.

She had the tendency to be hot headed, there was no doubt that she could be rough, although you felt her fire was what drew you to her in the first place. Another person who had lost everything obviously wasn’t inaccessible, but it helped that she was one of the few women that you had seen around. When she had thrown a punch so hard it nearly shattered her hand, you grabbed her and walked her home while she stumbled along with you.

No matter how watered down the whiskey in the QZ was, enough of it would do the trick.

“You ok?” You grabbed her by the waist, catching her before she fell, distracted by the blood on her knuckles. You didn’t know if it was hers or the man whose bottom tooth she had loosened.

“Guys here are as bad as fucking raiders…” She mumbled, looking down at her feet. “Could’a walked home myself.” You knew she could’ve, but the thought of letting her stagger home by herself so close to curfew made you uneasy.

Some things never change.

“Didn’t want you to,” You kept walking, one stride ahead of her at all times. “Could’ve been dangerous.”

“They know not to fuck with me,” she was giggling now, and she looked almost girlish with her features softened. “Living with Miller has its perks.”

“Wouldn’t want your boyfriend having to exact revenge just cause I let you walk home drunk.”

“What?” Tess stopped walking.

“Aren’t—sorry, are you and Joel not—?”

Tess snorted, “Joel and I are not an item. I don’t, y’know. He’s not my type.” She had sobered almost instantly. “I like my partners…feminine.”

Oh. Oops.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. We get it a lot. Easy living with each other cause we’re the only two that know how to empathize with the other.” She started walking again, leaving you with space to catch up. You didn’t inquire further about what she meant, it wasn’t something anybody wanted to discuss, ever. Loss and death were everywhere, there was no need to reflect on past experiences. Especially with someone like Tess who, in all honesty, intimidated you mightily. You just jogged to meet her pace.

You followed her into the building, not that you could really explain why.

She had pushed the door open and motioned to you, silently telling you to come into what once could’ve been passed off as a $3,000/month studio apartment. She dropped her belongings on the kitchen table, getting two glasses and pouring watered-down sambuca into each one. You hated the taste, but appreciated that she seemed to genuinely want to spend time with you.

“You remember anything?” She prompted after finishing her drink.

“What?” You had barely touched yours. The anise flavored booze had a different burn than whiskey.

“Before.”

“I was little. I remember seeing Attack of the Clones. And that Scooby Doo movie.”

“I was in my thirties when those came out,” she laughed, “I fucking loved Scooby Doo.” You found yourself laughing along with her. She deadpanned after a moment, examining you.

“You’re still young. Not fair to you to have seen all that as a kid.”

“I guess. But I didn’t think episode two was all that bad.” You tried to laugh through the sudden solemnity. Tess rolled her eyes and smiled, shaking her head as she reached for the bottle to refill her glass.“But it’s not fair that anybody had to see any of that. Ever.” You could hardly call yourself eloquent, but she knew what you meant.

“What are you doing here?” She took smaller sips of her drink this time.

“Same thing as you.”

“Why?”

You didn’t know. “Gotta do something.”

She nodded, “I want you with me.”

“Tess, I’m flattered—I am, but I don’t, I mean—”

“I want you to work with me.” She smiled into her glass, amused by your flustered response.

Oh. Oops.

“Oh. I...mean, ok. Yeah, ok.”

The door opened and you turned toward it out of impulse. The man that was suddenly in front of you was Tess’s age, you guessed. Dark hair greying, sleeves of his denim shirt rolled up to his elbows, face…mean.

Joel Miller in the flesh.

“Joel.” Tess was stern.

“What’s this?” Joel’s voice sent a shiver down your spine. You realized you had never spoken to him, never been spoken to by him. You’d only ever gawked from across the room. You felt yourself straighten your posture.

“Business. New teammate.” Tess took another sip from her glass.

Joel walked across the room, grabbing the liquor bottle and taking a swig from it before placing it back into a cabinet. He looked at you, giving you the up-and-down from where he stood at the counter.

“No.” He turned, walking into the bedroom.

Wide-eyed with concern and embarrassment, you looked at Tess.

“Be here at nine tomorrow. PM.” She said, finishing her drink and getting up to take her place on the couch.

You let yourself out.

~~~

It was obvious when you arrived the following night that Joel was still irked by your presence. Also obvious was that Tess had made him swallow his pride. She gave you your instructions at the kitchen table while you nodded along. Joel was statuesque and showed no signs of emotion or consideration towards her words.

And when Tess had explained that it would be you and Joel and only you and Joel, your brows furrowed and he still hadn’t budged.

“I’ve gotta be here,” she dictated, words coming out slowly as though she was speaking to children, “Don’t need all of us gone, it’d be too much attention. I’ll cover.”

“I can cover.” You blurted out, suddenly nervous about being alone with Joel.

“No.” Joel spoke for the first time all night. You shrunk back into yourself and kept listening.

“—Into the sewer, out to the east, all we need is booze, maybe some pharmaceutical shit if you can grab any.”

You probed, “Pharmaceuticals?”

“For us.” Tess had finished giving you the rundown, getting up from the table and walking into the bedroom, leaving you alone with Joel.

Saying nothing, he immediately started towards the door, leaving you to follow.

~~~

Contrary to popular belief, the sewers were not your ideal hang out. No matter how many times you went down there, it took days to scrub the feel and smell off of your body. If Joel cared about the dank surrounding, he didn’t show it.

When you popped the grate to crawl out, he moved to lift you slightly, but that was the only interaction you’d had on your journey. You wanted to get this over with, desperately wanted to be back in the company of anybody you could converse with. You made quick work of collecting what you needed and making your way back into tunnels below. Joel hadn’t said a word since he had objected to you taking watch, and you didn’t know why that bothered you so much; plenty of people didn’t speak to you, and you relished in it. You could walk around the QZ and not a soul would approach you—it was safer that way. Easier, too. But Joel’s silence made your head spin almost as much as his voice did. You kept looking at the way his biceps flexed under his shirt, the stern look on his face and the scar on his right temple.

Despite his cold exterior, you felt at ease in his presence. Sure, his domineering attitude was somewhat troubling to you, but his lack of emotions made you feel less paranoid. You weren’t as preoccupied with looking over your shoulder as you would’ve been otherwise thanks to his presence, and the gun slung over his shoulder acted as additional reassurance. If anything were to happen, you doubted he’d have any trouble dealing with it.

Maybe the smell of the sewer was making you delirious. Or maybe you were experiencing a genuine attraction to him—not that you expected a man that wouldn’t speak to you to feel any sort carnal desire for you. Even so, you found your mind wandering on the route back to the QZ; you could imagine him smoking the cigarettes your grandfather used to buy, Marlboro reds that he kept in a silver case. The thought of a cigarette hanging between Joel’s lips made you shiver, though you tried to tell yourself you were just cold from the clammy tunnels. You tried to hide the curious looks you shot at him, the way you studied his hands and thought up reasons as to why they would be so calloused. It could’ve been from the work he did now, but the thought of him pre-outbreak, working with his hands in the heat, wiping the sweat that dripped down his forehead...

You heard a clang somewhere along the route. Looking up, you could make out a shadow growing larger, then smaller. An unmistakable clicking followed.

Perhaps it was due to the unexpected encounter, or the daydreams still playing in the back of your head, but you found yourself frozen. If you could think straight, it would be embarrassing, but every noise was deafening, and you could feel your heartbeat in your skull.

And then you were on the floor. Joel’s full weight pinning you down before he rose up again and two shots rang out. You tried your best to regain your composure, blinking rapidly and staring into nothing. Joel looked down at you, face painted with his routine grimace only inches away from your own.

“This,” he breathed heavily, voice frayed, “is why I said no.”

But he waited for you to get up and brush yourself off before he kept walking.

“You’re a fuckin’ amateur.” He continued homewards.

~~~

You went with Tess after that. Nobody gave you an explanation—you didn’t need one. You had fucked up, made more apparent by the dismay painted on Joel’s face at your continued appearances in the apartment. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, let alone speak to him, maybe attempt to apologize. He didn’t want to hear it; you knew as much as he did. You couldn’t even crawl back like a guilty dog with your tail between your legs, because you knew you’d just get swatted by the morning paper. And, worse, despite the obvious friction, Joel was constantly on your mind. It was humiliating that a man who never spoke to you could be the focal point of your private moments. You thought of his hands entirely too often, his name slipping out between hushed gasps in the darkness of your bedroom.

Your breaking point was the night you walked into the apartment, opening the door to barking laughter that ceased on his end the moment you crossed the threshold. It was purposeful, the way he drew his mouth into a frown as soon as your line of sight had connected. Scowling, his eyes followed you. You felt heat rise in your face and pool in your stomach.

You scowled back. You wouldn’t endure his attitude anymore.

It went on like that for weeks. You figured that if you got under his skin he’d crack, forcing him to interact with you on a higher level—even if it was shouting at you.

Joel Miller was a bad man, a mean man. You knew as well as anybody, and it pissed you off as much as it turned you on.

~~~

You had let yourself into the apartment, flipping through an old magazine to pass the time you spent waiting for Tess.

When the door opened, your gaze met Joel’s. You turned back to skimming a story about Ewan McGregor, brows furrowed as you internally questioned what had happened to him in all this.

You started the countdown for the game you were playing: Who would break first? You glanced up once or twice to see where Joel was, and he remained in the same spot in front of the doorway, dark eyes fixed on you. You crossed your legs.

“Tess isn’t here.” He spoke, and you stopped your countdown, congratulating yourself as tonight’s winner.

“I know.”

“She’s not coming.”

“I’m reading.” You turned the page, eager to read about who was dating who in August of 2000.

Joel stayed in his spot by the door before making his way to the liquor cabinet—which you had discovered were most of the cabinets in this house. He put a glass in front of you and sat across, a glass of his own in his hand as he leaned forward to put his weight on the table.

“Jared Leto and Cameron Diaz.” You mused. Joel tipped back his glass, glaring at you. “Do you ever wonder if any of these people are still out there somewhere?”

“No.”

“Imagine killing some infected schmuck and realizing it was Ryan Gosling.” You smiled, enjoying your one-sided conversation. “I’d feel kinda bad…”

“’Least you’d be puttin’ him out of his misery.”

You looked up, surveying Joel, trying to find a trace of anything that could’ve prompted his sudden embrace of your goading. “Uhuh,” you raised an eyebrow, “just don’t think I could do it.”

“You scared?”

“Of you?”

“Of surviving.”

“No. Just of an infected Ryan Gosling.” You put down the magazine. “What’s your problem, Miller?”

“What’s yours?”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Then neither do I.” He got up to refill his glass, and you had déjà vu, recalling how Tess had sat you down at the table months earlier to invite you into their professional lives. She had been much friendlier even then than Joel ever was.

“You can’t fight for shit.” You turned to see Joel leaning against the counter, a bottle of whiskey in hand. You tried not to let your frustration at him show. “Hard to get good at this shit when you freeze at the first sign of trouble.”

“Shut up.” You brushed him off. You picked up the magazine again, trying to find your place.

“You know I’m right.” He drank from the bottle. For some reason you couldn’t stop yourself from standing up and facing him.

“What?”

“Y’know you can’t fight for shit. Couldn’t to save your own life. You know that. I know that. Why’d’ya think Tess always goes with you?” He put the bottle down and crossed his arms. Wrath boiled in your chest; you wanted to rationalize, tell yourself that he was mad you were winning the game he made you start playing so he opted to hit below the belt; but, Jesus, he had gotten you where it hurt. You had long prided yourself in having the ability to survive, taking care of yourself and doing whatever it took for you to see the next day. For him to waltz into the space you had found some form of comfort in, where Tess drank with and felt for you, to imply that you were a failure—just some fucking kid with a knife?

You put as much weight behind the punch you threw towards him as you could muster, aiming at for his face in the hopes that a black eye might help him register your dedication to staying alive. He barely moved, grabbing your wrist to stop any real strength your blow might’ve had.

“You can do better.” Joel provoked you further. You were breathing hard but not heavy, staring into the eyes of the man you wished you could see for the evil everybody said he was. “Do better.” He continued. You grabbed him by the collar, nose to nose; you could smell the liquor on his breath, and you were sure he could smell it on yours. You were far from drunk, and the seething anger sobered you more than a cold shower ever could.

So you had no excuse for kissing him, which is probably why it was a quick peck, testing the waters and feeling as though you owed it to yourself as much as to him to see if this was one-sided.

“That’s better.” He snaked an arm around your waist and cupped the opposite hand over the back of your head. You didn’t say a word, barely breathed at his response, before you attached yourself to him again. You forgot all about testing the waters and immediately dove in; you kissed him with an open mouth, tongue, teeth and all. He licked into you, pulling you in closer. He separated from you to speak.

“Bed.” Forever and always a man of few words. You stumbled over each other as he pulled you towards the bedroom, neither of you bothering to say anything else as you were pushed onto the bed. Joel straddled your chest, looking down at you and undoing his belt, brown eyes blown out with complete exasperation and lust.

“Y’been botherin’ me since day one,” he pulled his cock from the confines of his jeans, “bad fuckin’ attitude.” He stroked himself, still looking at you.

“Doesn’t seem to be bothering you now.” You taunted him, reaching up to wrap both hands around him and sitting up as best you could to lick across the tip of his cock. He pushed his hips forward and you took the initiative to swallow as much of him as you could; no small feat, considering his size. You managed half before you gagged. He just laughed.

“Gonna be quiet ‘round me, might as well put yourself to good use while you’re doin’ it.” He threw his head back as you licked circles over the head of his cock, hand working every inch you couldn’t push past your gag reflex. You made a noise in response to his words, though it was unclear if you meant it as an agreement or a rebuttal. You pulled yourself off of him, placing a kiss on the vein that ran up the underside of his cock. You looked up at Joel, content with your work, his breathing heavy. His hand came up to your jaw, prying your mouth open and sliding his thumb inside. You closed your lips around it and sucked, you heard him groan. He took his thumb out after a few more seconds.

“Open.” He placed his wet thumb on your chin. You opened wide, sticking out your tongue slightly, expecting him to give you his cock again. Instead, he spit directly into your mouth, before pressing on your lower jaw to force it closed. “Swallow.” You did as you were told. He shuffled himself further down your body, leaning down to kiss you, pushing his tongue between your lips before he continued moving downwards; he pulled the buttons of your flannel apart, kissing and sucking on the skin he revealed before licking over the burgeoning bruises. You thanked whatever God was out there that you had given up bras so long ago, as if it was all in anticipation of this moment. Joel’s mouth reached the waistband of your jeans, and he continued placing open mouthed kisses over your stomach as he undid your button and fly, pulling the fabric down your legs and revealing your panties. He bent forward into you, pressing his face into your clothed core, his nose and open mouth fanning hot breath across you.

“Need a good lay.” You weren’t sure if he was talking about you or himself, though he answered your silent question soon after; “That’ll keep you from bitchin’ over everythin’.” He licked a straight line over your folds, tasting the tangy wet that seeped through the fabric of your underwear. You let out a shrill whine when his tongue danced over your clit, and reached down to shed yourself of the final layer of clothing that covered your bottom half. He caught your wrist and pushed it aside. “No,” He looked up at you as he licked over you again, “been playin’ your fuckin’ game for weeks. S’my turn. Don’t get greedy, now.”

You moaned when he released your wrist from his grasp, only to begin rubbing circles over you. “Pl—ease, Joel!” You arched your back, lifting yourself up to him in an attempt to gain more friction.

“Say it again.”

“Please,” it was barely audible, “please, Joel. Please, please…” Your eyes were hooded as you begged for more. Either he was satisfied by your attempt or took pity on you for coming undone over practically nothing, but he slid the panties down your thighs and threw them over his shoulder. He admired your naked cunt, ghosting a finger over your slit and collecting what you’d already released. He leaned back down and attached his lips to your clit, pushing his finger into you and bending it upwards. You gasped, grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging, earning a satisfied grunt from him. He rhythmically sucked your clit in time with the movements of his finger, adding another slowly and then increasing the pace. Over and over, he brushed the spongey spot inside of you that made you clench around him, tugging his hair tighter.

“Go—ing to, Joel, fuck! Joel—!” You were panting, fist gripping his hair.

“No.”

“Please!” You were trembling.

“No.” He was unforgiving, absolutely ruthless as he fucked his fingers into you faster, licking tight and fast over your clit. You were close to tears now, grabbing onto the pillow underneath you to stabilize yourself. You were sweating, and he was the one doing all the work, but, Christ, it took effort to hold off on cumming when he was knuckle deep in your pussy like that.

“Now.” He said, pushing up against the spot you needed him to touch most, sucking hard on your swollen clit. You all but yelled, body turning to jelly, your eyes screwed tight—all while Joel continued his ministrations. He stared at you open mouthed as you trembled. He slowed once you stopped shaking, sliding his fingers out of you and licking them clean.

“Still gonna act like a bitch now?” He peppered kisses over your thighs.

“F…fuck y—ou, Joel Miller.” You wheezed out. He laughed, standing up to remove his shirt and trousers.

“’F’I’d known you wanted it I’d’ve done it a month ago.” He crawled over you, pressing kisses into your neck.

“Fuck you.” You finally caught your breath, and he pushed himself up enough to meet you face to face. “You’re a bad person. Everybody in the QZ knows you’re a bad man.”

“Then why are you in my bed?” He was half sincere.

“You tell me.”

“Can see the way you look at me. Terrible at keepin’ secrets. ‘Nother reason you need someone to protect you out there.” He scoffed, and you pulled him down for a kiss. Though bruising in force, you were gentler with each other. Neither of you felt inclined to use teeth this time around.

Joel pushed himself up and onto his knees, sliding his cock over your clit and pushing his tip into you slightly. You whimpered, trying to wordlessly urge him to sink into you.

“Ask me.”

“Please.”

“More.”

“Please, Joel, need it…”

“Need what, sweet thing?” You closed your eyes, savoring the nickname as it rolled off his tongue.

“Need your cock. Joel, please, I need you to fu—” He cut you off with one sharp thrust, pushing his full length into you and bottoming out. You felt your eyes roll back in your head, and Joel brought a hand down to rest on the side of your face.

“Atta girl,” his mouth hung open as he began shallowly thrusting into you, “take it all, darlin’.”

You whined, hands scrambling to touch him wherever you could reach; his shoulders, his chest, his thigh if you stretched down a bit further. It only spurred him on.

“Fuckin’ pathetic.” He pushed his hips into yours, attempting to get even deeper inside of your warm, inviting pussy. “Been such a bitch with me ‘nd now you’re so eager, huh? Li’l slut, needed t’get fucked s’all?” All you could do was let out a wonton moan, loving how he stretched you. “Gonna be nice from now on?” You couldn’t respond, could only think the word no as he sped up, sliding all the way out and all the way back into your cunt. “Answer me, girl.”

“F—uck, n—no!” You stammered.

He brought a hand down harsh on your clit, pulling out so just the tip of his cock was seated shallowly inside of you. You squeezed around it. “Don’t be a bitch,” he spanked your pussy again, “tell me the truth.”

Tears pricked your eyes in frustration, and you nodded your head yes.

“Words.”

“Yes! I’ll be good, I’ll be so good, wo—won’t give you attitude, Joel, I—I won’t be such a bitch, I pr—omise.”

“I like you a li’l bitchy,” he slid his cock back into you, resuming the punishing pace, punching up into you. “Like my pretty li’l bitch. Like this tight fuckin’ pussy.” He flattened himself on top of you, chest pressing into yours with every breath he took and every rough shove of his cock against your cervix. The slight pain was worth the abounding pleasure. He reached under your midriff, sliding his hands between the flannel you still half-wore to meet your skin, wrapping his arms around you and pressing you into him further. You wrapped your own arms around his waist, completely lost in him.

“Y’needed this as much as I did,” he groaned into your ear, “tell me, sweet thing.”

“Needed—oh, fuck, I needed it.” You whispered against the skin of his shoulder. He managed to reach a hand down between you, fingers finding your clit. You buried your face into him, suddenly very aware of what was happening; your daydreams coming to fruition, winning the game in a manner leagues above what you had hoped for. The attention was staggering. The tears you had held back during his earlier taunting escaped, spilling over your cheeks and smudging into the sweat on Joel’s skin. It was overwhelming in the best way. Anxiety inducing in the worst.

“So good, being so—so fuckin’ good, darlin’.” He was getting sloppy with his thrusts, rhythm failing as he neared his own high. He pulled away from you, shifting positions to hold you so that you could be face to face. You couldn’t count how many times today you had found yourself staring at Joel Miller. “You’re so good.” A fully earnest sentiment, punctuated by every inch of his cock. “Want you to cum, need you to cum for me again.” He was practically begging, words coming out in moaned whispers. He kissed the tear streaks over your cheek and down to your lips, the wiry hair of his short mustache rubbing against your top lip in a manner that made your skin instantly sore, but it felt too good to be connected to him like this to complain at all. He continued his movements, fingers running over your clit at a heightened pace and cock throbbing inside of you. You squeezed around his cock, arms squeezing his torso, and you felt yourself coming undone.

“There you go. Feel you fuckin’ squeezin’ me. Gimme one more, sweetheart.” You were pushed over the edge, once again cumming for Joel Miller in a way you had only ever imagined. He held you tight, letting you wrap yourself around him while you came, whispering his name and tangling your fingers in his hair. He managed a few more deep thrusts before pulling out and spilling across your stomach, chanting your name. Your breathing was labored, and Joel admired how he had painted you with his spend.

He stood up, walking out of the room, and you felt the urge to cry again, feeling suddenly abandoned after something so new and intimate. But he walked back in with a threadbare towel, wiping down your stomach and the wet between your thighs. You were both silent as he finished cleaning you up. He exited once more to rid himself of the towel before reuniting with you in bed. He lay beside you for a moment before turning to hold you. You turned to face him.

“It’s a shame you wiped me clean. Wanted a taste.” You failed to keep your tone even and unbothered, the crack in your voice apparent as you tried your hand at humor.

“Next time.” You looked up to find him staring at you once again. His usual scowl replaced by something softer. You fell back into a semi-comfortable silence.

“I am a bad man.” He spread his fingers out between your shoulder blades.

“Joel—”

“I am,” the words came out harsher than he had meant them to, “I’ve done bad shit just to get by. It’s fuckin’ embarrassin’ to kill someone just to see another day of this. Bad’s an understatement.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “I’m hard on you cause I don’t want you gettin’ hurt. Don’t wanna be out with you if somethin’ happens. Don’t wanna be away from you if somethin’ happens. Wouldn’t be able to—”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know. S’fuckin’ awful. Shouldn’t have’ta fend for yourself.” He swallowed.

“Have to to survive, Joel. Made it this far.”

“No,” he countered, “shouldn’t have to survive. You should be livin’. Shouldn’t need’a run with a crowd like me ‘nd Tess.”

“Don’t you think we’re a little past that? I’d be doin’ the same thing even if I didn’t have you two to do it with.”

“I’ve seen how you freeze up.”

“I knew you’d be there.” You nearly snapped, astonished that after all this he was still hung up over the first run you did with him, despite the effortless shots he had taken. Even more astonished that he hadn’t realized that despite the external bitterness he had fashioned and the constant stream of “no” that left his mouth, you knew even then that he’d keep you protected. He looked away from you, and you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, trying to show him that for all your bite you were capable of being docile when the moment called for it.

“Shouldn’t wanna hang around bad people.” Joel’s eyes looked into the nothing of the distance as he muttered. “Shouldn’t have to risk everything just to do bad things.”

“Good men die, too, Joel,” You were firm, “I wanna be…” You trailed off. He looked back to you and traced a finger over your collar bone, admiring the marks that had formed from his kisses. “Wanna be around you. With you.” You saw a faint smile creep across his face.

“Not a good man?”

You scoffed, “Never a good man. Wouldn’t know how to handle me.” He laughed softly. You allowed his hands to roam over your body while you mirrored his movements, tracing your fingers over the scars that littered his chest. “Come with me on the next run.” You weren’t asking.

For the first time in 20-odd years, Joel was unable to say no.

#pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #Joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #tlou #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction

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ourautumn86 · 6 months

Text

homecoming

hazel callahan x fem! reader.

summary; loving her was a sin, but if there was a hell, you’d go with her.

cw; +18 content, minors dni!, we’re in the 80s!, both reader and hazel are 18!!, inspired by homecoming from ethel cain, homophobia, angst, pining, both reader and hazel being in love, kissing, crying, hair pulling, mentions of the bible, god and hell, fingering (r! receiving)…

you’re staring at her, and she can’t be more beautiful. it hurts. everything about it hurts. her suit matches her beautiful eyes, and her hair looks so soft you just want to dip her fingers in and tug. tug her closer. until there is no distance in between the two of you. until you can breathe from her lips, until nothing else exists.

but you can’t. and it just breaks you apart like a porcelain doll smashed against the floor.

her name is just as beautiful as her. hazel. like the spring, like the earth and the green. and just like the season, she brings butterflies to your stomach, makes goosebumps bloom like flowers on your skin. and she’s so warm…

she’s a sin. but such a pretty one… maybe they all are. would it make a difference? everything else evaporated as she takes your hand, like the blood in your veins. you want the blue in her eyes to bathe you clean.

“dance with me?” she asks, as if you could resist, as if you weren’t on her knees and begging for her to a god that forbid this sickening love that drenches your bones.

and you nod, ‘cause there are no words you could muster. not when she’s this close, when her fingers are laced in between yours and her cologne is suffocating you.

you’re more patient now than you ever have been.

her smile is blinding, and you can just follow her to the mass of teenagers dancing in the middle of the room, even when your heart is about to burst out of your chest and your stomach is tying in knots.

you’re more brave now that you ever have been.

her hands are on your waist, and your arms are around her neck. and you’re dancing, slow. you feel like one of those princesses in the fairytales your mom would read you when you were just a mere kid, with glass heels and satin fluffy dresses, in between the arms of a prince. you wanted to smash the crystal below your feet and break it to pieces, dance bare feet on the remains of the happily ever after that you won’t get.

“you look beautiful.” she whispers, and your cheeks redden. your heart flips, and you wish this weren’t the way it all goes, but you can’t help but say it back.

“you too.” you stare into her eyes, shying when she smiles, pulling you closer against her chest. you swore you could feel the quickened heartbeat of her heart. hazel fears you do.

you could feel her breath on your neck, through your homecoming dress before she speaks again.

“can i tell you a secret?” you nodded, your soul blooming in a field of flowers when she spoke those four words against your ear. “i’m desperate for you.”

and even though you felt complete, you couldn’t help but want to push her away, punch her in the face. ‘cause your love was so big. you wanted it to be her problem too.

there, just inches away from her, from her plushy reddish lips…four left feet in a room, always all over her. why had you had to fall in love with her?

and you both knew this was how it goes. you both get too close ’til you fucking explode.

you only tugged her closer, burying your face on her neck to hide your blushing, your nerves, but mostly your fear. you couldn’t look her in the eyes, into this sin.

“don’t look now but everyone’s staring at us weird.” she said, and your breath hitched.

“is it just me or there’s no air in here?” you could feel your chest tighten, millions of eyes on you.

but you’d take it all. stand there and bleed under the knives their eyes sent you if that meant you could stay in between her arms just one more minute, one more second.

“just breathe. i’m right here.” she promised, holding you tight.

everyone was watching you. you couldn’t breath.

“can’t we just leave?” you muttered, and she nodded. you wanted to run away with her, run to where no one would know you, would see you.

she took your hand, and you followed as you two left the prom, the hallways of your high school felt sickeningly cold, yet she kept you warm, hand on hand.

it was all a blur as you two ran through them, eyes on the back of her head, on her flowy soft black hair, and before you knew you were inside the bathrooms, your back against the cold tiles as she looked into your eyes.

“tell me i shouldn’t.” she whispered against your lips, one of her hands cupping your cheek. your eyes met her lips.

your fist tightened on the jacket of her suit, knuckles turning white as you leaned closer to her, until your lips were hers and hers yours. you closed your eyes, relishing on this love that you were gifted, this cursed love that you couldn’t scape.

tears were soaking your eyes, ruining the makeup your mother had helped you put on. you were gutted. your hands found her hair, tugging. you wanted to hurt her. break her just like she had broken you.

“i wish you were a boy…” you muttered in a sob, and hazel’s eyes fell. she silently kissed you again. and you let her. they said love hurt, and you were ready to die for it.

the kiss only got deeper, so deep you were drowning. you wished there was no god. no heaven. no hell.

“i love you.” she muttered against your neck, softly kissing it, pressing you harder against the wall.

“don’t.” you begged. “please, don’t.”

“i’m sorry. i’ll go to hell for it. but i do.” tears were brimming her eyes as well.

you kissed her to quiet her. you needed her to hush it all. to not speak up this forbidden love that hung in between the two of you.

her tongue pushed inside your mouth and you moaned.

“please, hazel. make me forget…” you pleaded, starred eyes staring into her soul, and her shaky warm hands crept under the skirt of your dress, pushing aside your panties to feel how wet you’ve become for her. you cried out when you felt her fingers dive in between your slick folds, her fingertips tracing soft circles against your clit. you pulled on her hair, making her grunt.

“you’re so beautiful…” she repeated, if she could she would say it over and over again until she’d lose her voice. a whimper fell from your parted and swollen lips when she pushed her middle finger inside you, fucking you slowly. it was as if she were trying to make love to you. to convince you that this was no sin. just love.

you could believe her.

“i love you.” you cried on her shoulder, your hips pushing against her touch. “i love you so much it hurts.” she kissed your cheek, your forehead and your lips.

she hushed you, her free hand coming to softly brush your hair as she added a second finger, curling them and making you moan. “just focus on me, alright? just me, sweet girl. i’m right here, baby.” she kissed you once again, painfully slow and sweet. you could feel yourself rotting in it, vanishing as your orgasm approached, whimpers and whines being swallowed by hazel as she worked you towards it.

“hazel…” you called out for her.

“i know. i know. just let go for me, princess, let go.” you cried out as it hit you, your hips sputtering and your chest rising in a deep breath. you whole body shook at its intensity, and hazel made sure to help you ride it until it became too much for you. she pulled her fingers out of you just to push them into her mouth to taste you. you were heaven on her tongue.

you needed a taste.

and as you kissed her, holding her close to your heart, you whispered.

“if there’s a hell, i will go with you.”

and that’s a promise no god could break.

a/n; relatable

#hazel callahan angst #hazel callahan fic #hazel callahan fluff #hazel callahan smut #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan #hazel bottoms #hazel callahan bottoms #bottoms x reader #bottoms 2023 #bottoms movie #bottoms fanfic

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fleshbride · 5 months

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A HOUSE IN NEBRASKA. ────── ཐི Satoru Gojo x Fem Black Reader. In which a young man and his small town lover run to a house in Nebraska to escape the traumas of their hometown. ཋྀ

♱ CW: major character deaths, suicide, angst with a happy ending, brief alcoholism, racism/microagressions, childhood best friend & country satoru, small town bullshit, a single derogatory use of ‘nigga’. fluff. pet names such as: sugar plum, doll, honey, princess, baby girl, dream girl, darling, sweet thing & sunshine. smut; unprotected sex, whiny service dom gojo, sub reader. cervix fucking, fingering, oral (f! receiving), riding, breeding, extreme amounts of praise bc satoru talks so fucking much, overstimulation, dumbification, light choking, marking, nipple play, body worship, dacryphilia, begging, pussy drunk satoru. satoru is utterly in love with you and does not try to hide it. chubby reader.

♱ this fic is inspired by a house in nebraska by ethel cain, my favorite singer <3 it’s one of my much much longer fics… this fic is actually so ouch. i’m so so so sorry guys. like yeah there’s PASSIONATE love making, but it’s so so so sad. i actually sobbed writing this. it’s not proof read so pleaseeeee excuse any any mistakes!

♱ wc: 10.1k

You didn’t think it would hurt this much. You didn’t think you’d feel them lodge in your throat, push down your esophagus with a burn. You take more gulps of water, as you gasp and choke. It helps a little bit. You swallow more. And more. And more. Until the bottle of oxycodone is empty. How many were in there? About thirty. You grasp at another bottle. Cross contamination is always the best method. Those go down your throat just as horribly as the rest.

You’re sitting on the floor now, waiting for your death to approach. The pills are burning down to your stomach, and you gulp more water. You stand on shaky legs, and stumble your way to your bed. It’s empty. Like so many other things. Like your heart.

You remember how you got to this point, in your final hours. As you collapse into your bed, eyes fluttering shut, you allow the memories to wash over you.

Two years ago, you lived in a small town in Alabama. It was your nineteenth birthday and you were intent on celebrating in a way that satisfied you. However, while legally an adult, you still weren’t old enough to do too much. And frankly, you weren’t well liked within town. Why? Well, in such a small town, even one you grew up in, that was predominantly another race… They weren’t very accepting to your differences. They weren’t very accepting to your skin, to your hair, to your body, to your personality. They weren’t accepting to you at all.

Even though you grew up there like the rest of them, played with their children, held some of their sons and daughters while they cried and helped them pass their classes, and walked the graduation stage with them. You were still an outsider.

And it was okay — because you had Satoru.

Satoru Gojo, the one of the only other people of color in the entire town — even though he was pale haired, with the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen, like everyone else in the town — was your best friend. You two had been best friends since third grade when he beat up some kid that called your afro ugly, and then you kicked some kid in the balls when he made fun of Satoru’s eyes, since he was Asian. Even at a young age, you two knew that those things were wrong — and you had to stick together.

And you did. You’ve stuck together all your lives, even through middle school, when your boobs started growing, and your hips started widening, and he got taller and his voice got deeper, and all of a sudden, there was this weird feeling. You stuck together through high school, when you got your first boyfriend, and he got his first girlfriend, neither of which ended well. Stuck together even when everyone twanged out, “Are y’all fuckin’?” You stuck together.

So of course, your birthday is spent with him.

Satoru still lives with his parents, technically. They own a ranch on the outskirts of town, and Satoru has his own personal little refurbished barn house, which he got for his graduation present. You’re always there, even more than your own home. Even now, you’re waiting on the wraparound porch of your house, hand over your eyes as you squint into the distance.

You can make out Satoru, on a horse, and with another at his side. He didn’t. You feel yourself squeal at the sight of the familiar white horse; your favorite one. Her name is Jezzy, and she’s the only white horse they have. You and Jezzy had bonded when Jezzy was first born, a little calf. You’ve been her favorite, and vice versa ever since. Frankly, she likes you more than the man that takes care of her.

You don’t wait for Satoru to get to your porch. You run to him, your gladiator sandals slapping against the dirt path and making your white-painted toes dusty. The pink and green floral dress you wear flutters around your knees as you sprint, the wind whipping your neck. Satoru hops down from his caramel horse, Honesty. He’s running to meet you half way, and the smile that had made its way onto your face only grows wider.

He yells your name, and you yell his, and the two of you collide. You throw your arms around his shoulders, and his arms encircle your waist as he lifts you up into a spin. “Happy Birthday, girl,” he laughs in your ear when he finally puts you down. His familiar Southern twang bouncing in your ears. He kisses your forehead, before taking a finger to run through your newly straightened hair.

“Yer curls are gone,” he says, almost sad, his lips pulling in a familiar pout. “You’re gonna get ‘em back, right? Love it when your hair’s like that.” He leans his arm on your shoulder, a familiar habit, even though he’s much taller than you.

“Yes, Satoru,” you muse, “They’ll be back next week, no worries.” You laugh as he whoops, and jumps in the air, clicking his heels together and causing dust to rise up. When he lands, he gives you a proud grin, folding his arms. You notice what he wears. He’s wearing a black polo shirt, that’s tucked into blue jeans and his jeans are messily tucked into his boots. You chuckle. Him and those fucking boots. His wind breaker is thrown over the polo. However, your eyes linger on how his chest presses against the polo. His white locks of hair frame his face, although his cowboy hat smushes his hair, and his sapphire eyes gaze at you happily. You don’t look away and he smirks.

“How’s it feel bein’ nineteen, sugar plum?” Satoru asks as he leads you to Jezzy, who’s quick to snort at you and nuzzle your face with her huge nose. You giggle and scratch her neck, pulling away a little so she doesn’t ruin the makeup you did on your face.

“Doesn’t feel like nothin’, Satoru,” you respond, jolting as he grabs your hips and lifts you to help you onto the horse. His strong hands on your hips make you bristle a little, but you should be used to it now, shouldn’t you? “Just getting older.” He grins up at you from below, giving a little laugh. “Yeah, I get it, plum. I’ll be turnin’ twenty in December, and man… I was just a tyke, wrestlin’ in the fields yesterday.”

You laugh, watching as he boards Honesty. You two start the horses up and begin trotting down the path. There’s a few seconds of silence, before Satoru asks, “You sure y’wanna do this birthday party?”

Ah. You were so swept up by Satoru’s arrival that you forgot where he was taking you. His mother threw a party for you, and decided to invite ‘damn near everyone in town’, according to Satoru. He was very dubious, considering your treatment, but you agreed to it. At first, your mother wanted it to be a surprise party, but Satoru insistently shut that down.

“I’m sure, ‘Toru,” you say gently. The male smacks his teeth, and rolls his eyes a little, before adding, “We can tell my mama to cancel everything, y’know? She won’t be mad at’cha. She knows that the townspeople are dickheads.” You refuse the urge to laugh, because he’s right. They are dickheads. However, you have hope.

“It’s fine,” you insist, “I don’t wanna waste your mom’s hard work. Plus, I’m sure nobody’s gonna do anything on my birthday.” Satoru sighs, but he doesn’t press any further. You’re not too worried; you know if something does happen, he’s right behind you, and he’ll come in swinging. There hasn’t been a time that he hasn’t. However, despite that, you can’t help but secretly feel jittery and nervous.

The rest of your ride to Satoru’s home is filled with jokes, and playful banter. The cool night air swirls around you two, making you shiver a little. You should’ve brought your cardigan. Satoru’s eyes quickly catch on and he chucks his windbreaker at you. He doesn’t say a word as you catch it, he just nods at you. You slide it on, and even in the cool air, your cheeks feel hot.

When you two get in sight of the house, Satoru whistles out, “Race ‘ya!” And it catches you off guard, but you’re quick to spur Jezzy on into canter, her strong legs sprinting forward as the two of you race towards the large ranch house. You and Jezzy win, making Satoru groan. As you both slow down, beginning to head to the stables, he shoots, “You only won ‘cause it’s your birthday!”

Your smug smile says enough about how you feel about that; even though Satoru has more experience with horses, you have your own little luck with racing — you win every race.

You watch as Satoru slides off Honesty. She brays at him and nudges his shoulder, and he chuckles, cooing to her, grabbing both of the horses’ saddle handles, pulling them into the stable. You know better than to try to get off horses on your own; you’re thrown off balance, every time, and end up on your ass. So you wait patiently as he puts Honesty in her stable, before coming over to you.

“Didn’t forget ‘ya, sugar plum,” he grins at you as he presses his hands to your hips. Instead of helping you crawl down, he simply just lifts you down. The stables smell of a mixture of horse, hay and dirt. Even though it’s not the best smell, you’re not focused on it. You’re focused on the way Satoru looks over you as he sets you on, eyes raking over your figure.

The dress that’s glued to your wide hips, draped over your plush figure. Your makeup, delicately painted on your face; he can tell you took your time on it. And you’re still wearing his jacket. He smiles, tucking a strand of your collarbone-length hair behind your ear. “Look at you,” comes his affectionate murmur, one that makes a fuzzy, bubbly feeling spread from your toes to your head. “Just a doll. Prettiest fuckin’ girl in this entire town.” You feel those feelings rising inside of you, and you try to push him away, embarrassed as you say, “Oh, stop, Satoru,” but he pulls you closer by your waist, craning down to you to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Nuh-uh, doll. You jus’ look so beautiful. You always do, but tonight you’re just… wow. Yer glowin’, Y/N.” Your heart is racing as he squeezes the plush of your waist, making you let out a ticklish giggle. Often, there are random times where he gets affectionate with you, extremely so — you should be used to these moments, but you aren’t. Your hands fist into his shirt as his lips press from your forehead, to down your chin. Your breath catches when they get too close to your lips.

This isn’t friendship anymore, is it?

“Happy birthday, princess,” he whispers into your ear, finally pulling away. You look up at him, eyes wide, as you breathily respond, “Thank you…” Satoru looks down at you, smiling gently as he hold you. He murmurs, “I have a surprise for you, y’know. Think you’ll like it.” Before you can question him, he places a finger right above your lips. He’s considerate; doesn’t wanna ruin your lip combo. “A little into the party. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

The two of you pull away from each other hesitantly, and Satoru kicks at the hay as he grins at you. “Party time, birthday girl. Come on.” The two of you exit the stable, sides brushing as you walk to his house.

Within ten minutes, you regretted insisting on going. Once you entered the ranch, carols of your name and ‘happy birthday’ echoed throughout the large common room. It was decorated in gold and white, with balloons everywhere and a little banner hung up for you. Satoru’s mother gave you a large hug, and wrapped her arms around your waist, steering you around to see the cake she baked you. You were all smiles and beams, immediately falling into her, with Satoru lumbering after, your hand outstretched backwards, clasped in his.

After you saw the cake, which was tri-tiered and your favorite flavor, you were passed around from person to person. You got many hugs, from townspeople you were sure didn’t like you very much, and to be fair; you enjoyed the kind attention. You wished it was your birthday every day.

Until, you got to a certain group of young women. You had graduated with the group, even though they were nasty as hell to you. As they approached you, you knew it wouldn’t be good. Vanessa, a tall brunette with pretty hazel eyes, gave you the fakest smile you’ve ever seen, before pulling you into a hug. “Oh, Y/N! Happy birthday, baby!” She cooed, squeezing you. You swallowed, wrapping your arms around her in turn. “…Thank you, Vanessa.” Once Vanessa pulled away, her two friends, Isabel and Megan, gave you hugs also.

“Ugh, Y/N,” Isabel began, running her fingers through your shiny silk press, “You look so much prettier with straight hair! Is this your real hair?” You give an awkward laugh as you gently remove her hand from your hair, looking around for Satoru frantically. Partygoers heard her comment and turned to tune in, furthering your discomfort.

“Yeah, it’s my real hair, please don’t touch it,” you tell her sweetly, watching as she rolls her eyes a little. “I was just complimenting you! You should wear it like that all the time, it looks so much better than your other hair.” You bristle uncomfortably. Were these bitches being racist? You swallow hard and give her a nod, and a smile.

Vanessa steps forward, eyeing you over before she’s chirping loudly, “And that dress is soooo cute! But it’s kinda tight.. Have you gained weight, or something?” Your smile almost drops, but you manage to keep it up, as you let out a delayed, fake laugh. People are starting to whisper and nudge each other, and immediately, more nosy sons of bitches turn to eye you. You’ve always been a bit thicker — that’s no secret. You didn’t have the skinny white girl genes, no. You were filled in by the time you were 13, and even as a nineteen year old, you had a bit of a plump body. You weren’t overweight or obese; you were perfectly healthy. It was just the way your body was. And the fact that these girls thought they could pick on you about it?

You refused to let it happen on your birthday.

“Oh no,” you cooed gently, mirroring Vanessa’s tone, “I haven’t! But um, are you recovering?” You blink gently at her. Fine, you think mentally, if she wants to put on a show, we can do that.

“From what?” Vanessa chirps hesitantly, eyes narrowing. She didn’t think you knew, huh?

“Those butt injections you got last month!” You answer loudly, putting a hand over your heart. Vanessa’s eyes widened as she looked around frantically, as people slowly began to whisper intently. She wasn’t used to the whispers, it seemed.

You were visiting at the local doctor’s office, when you overheard the doctor’s conversation with Vanessa, she was asking some questions about pain for it. You hurried to the bathroom before you could be seen, keeping the information in your head. From the corner of your eye, you see Satoru making his way from the kitchen. He’s obviously heard what’s going on, and doesn’t look happy.

“I didn’t get no injections!” She claims, trying to take advantage of the situation, “Y/N, how could you spread such a nasty rumor?”

“Huh,” You say, “That’s real funny. So you’re just gaining weight too, hm? We should go to the gym together, do some cardio, you know? You must be eating a lot, if it’s all going to your ass!” You giggle, pushing her shoulder and making it all seem like some joke. She has no choice but to giggle with you.

“You know who I haven’t seen here?” Megan speaks up and immediately, you’re on edge. While Vanessa may be the face of the trio, she’s the one who’s more lethal and intelligent with her words. You’ve learned this too many times from high school. “Your parents, Y/N. Typical Black parents, you know? Never there when their kid needs them.” And more publicly racist. You resist the urge to grab this girl by her throat, and show her what exactly your Black parents had taught you. It isn’t like they’re absent — your father passed when you were a teen, and your mother was a chronic workaholic, struggling to provide for you.

“Crazy,” you hear a monotonous voice go behind you. You know exactly who it is, and you couldn’t be more relieved. In typical country boy fashion, Satoru is behind you, chewing on a toothpick. “Megan, weren’t ‘ya crying to me about how your poor dear ol’ daddy beats on ‘ya? Typical Megan, y’know? Always self-projectin’.” He whistles as he presses his hand to the small of your back, steering you out the ranch, the comments of the party trailing behind him. In the faint throes, you even hear, “That nigga bitch…”

You pretend it doesn’t bother you as Satoru leads you to his barn.

Once you’re comfortably nestled in the warmth of his barn, you let out your frustrations about the racism of the town. Satoru sits next to you, his toothpick still resting in his mouth. He watches you intently, before humming out, “Ya done, doll? Don’t let those assholes ruin yer day. Matter fact…” He got up, heading to his little kitchen. You only watched, still fuming a bit.

“Close yer eyes!” The white haired man yells at you, and you do so obediently, pretty brown eyes fluttering shut. You wait for him, hands folded in your lap. You hear the couch creak a little and something set on the table.

“Open ‘em,” you hear his gravelly voice tell you, and you obey. Your eyes lock on a cupcake, with a single candle in it. You soften considerably, calming down immediately.

“Aw, Satoru..” You whisper gently, placing your hand over his, eyes flickering from his face to the cupcake. “You didn’t have to.”

“Yeah I did,” he retorts, squeezing your hand. “You didn’t get to eat any of the cake, even though it was yours, and we needed to be alone anyways. Make a wish, honey.”

You close your eyes, leaning to the cupcake.

I wish that Satoru and I are together as long as we live, and even in death, may we stay together.

You blow out the candle then, before sliding the candle out the middle and licking the frosting off of it.

“One more thing,” Satoru says, sliding his hand into his pockets. He pulls out a golden heart-shaped locket from his pocket, dangling it around his finger. “This is for you, birthday girl.” He cracked open the locket, showing the pictures. On one side was a picture from third grade, the first day they met matter of fact — Satoru’s mother had taken it as a memento. On the other side was your graduation picture, where Satoru had his arm wrapped around you and his lips pressed into your forehead. How far you two had come.

He waves the locket in front of your face, as you gasp at the picture. “We haven’t been able to find this picture years, how did you….?” Satoru only grins and shrugs, as if it was nothing at all. In your pure bliss, you throw your arms around him. His arms wrap around your waist in turn, hugging you tightly.

You can feel tears budding in your eyes as you whimper out, “This was so nice of you…! I appreciate it so much, thank you, I love you!” Satoru laughs as he rocks you, before responding, “Shh. It was no biggie. C’mere, let me put it on for ‘ya.”

You pull away gently from each other, and you turn so that your back faces him. He drapes the necklace over your chest, using his knuckles to push your chin up a bit. He fiddles with the hooks a little before getting it right and letting go. You skim your fingers over the locket before turning back around with a smile.

He opened the locket, looking at the picture. “Man. Can’t believe I found photographs of our school, on the day we met.” He smiles a little, as he looks between the two small pictures. His eyes flicker up to you, then back down. You only watch him with softening eyes. Your heart pumps, and that bubbly feeling spreads through you again. He makes you feel so warm. You’re not an idiot, you know exactly what the things you feel are. You weren’t dense; you knew for a long time.

But you can’t bear to say a word before he did. However, you didn’t expect it to be so soon.

Satoru takes a deep breath, his eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and vulnerability. He gathers his courage before softly uttering, "I thought that you were so beautiful… it was love, I guess." His gaze remains fixed on you, his heart hanging in the balance, waiting for your response, hoping that his words have stirred something within you.

You don’t realize what he had said at first, before it registers. You double take, eyes widening as you look at him frantically. “Satoru. Satoru. It was what?” His face is pink as he looks away from you, but you were insistent, crawling closer to him as you plead, “It was what?” Your hands grab his shirt and he whistles, looking away from you.

Finally, he mumbles out, “… Was love, I guess.”

“What kind?” You press, tears bubbling in your eyes once more. It couldn’t be. He looks at you for what feels like hours. “You know what kind, darlin’. Don’t make me repeat myself. In a way I shouldn’t.”

“Say it.” You hiss, crawling into his lap. He spreads his legs immediately, making room for you as you place yourself in front of him, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at you. “Tell me.” One of his hands rests on your hip and the other trails to play with your locket.

He looks almost shy this way, his blue eyes heavy lidded as you request his words. He sucks in an inhale before he’s saying, “I love you, Y/N…. and not as your best friend. I want ‘ya to be my girl. There, said it… Please let me be yours.”

You’re silent. He wants you to be his girl. Your brain is slow to process it, slow to understand it, slow to reciprocate. However, as you reflect upon his desire for you, a wave of emotions starts to wash over you. Confusion is gradually replaced by clarity, hesitation transforms into certainty, and the realization of his affection for you fills your heart with joy. Suddenly, everything seems to make sense, like a complex jigsaw puzzle finally coming together to reveal a beautiful picture.

“Okay.” It’s all you say. Satoru’s eyes widen, as if he was expecting a rejection. Before he can answer, you’re pressing your lips to his, finally taking the initiative for fucking once. When your lips crash against him, it’s like heaven and hell have collided in a fiery, desperate match.

Satoru’s hands grasp at you, desperate, as his tongue pushes its way into your mouth, curling against your tongue. The way you two kiss is messy, and needy, saliva coats your lips, but it couldn’t be better. Satoru pants into your mouth as he runs his hands over your body feverishly.

“Fuck,” he grunts into your mouth, pulling away briefly to adjust his pants as best as possible. “So hard, you got me s’hard, doll. Shit, shit, get up, or ‘m gonna explode..” You can feel his dick, straining against his jeans beneath you. You don’t get up from your spot, and he lets out a groan into your mouth.

Your hands are sliding under his shirt, feeling the firm abs underneath, trying to touch any bit of his skin you can. His hands squeeze the swell of your ass as he nips at your bottom lip, before sliding his lips down to your throat. He begins to kiss your throat before sucking, biting, making sure your skin is covered in dark marks.

You grab his cowboy hat and throw it off, so you’re able to sink your fingers into his white locks of hair, letting out slight moans as his hands move from your ass to your tits. He caresses them through your dress, and you hiccup as he finds your nipples.

“You ain’t even wearin’ a bra?” He asks you, pulling away from the curve of your neck, to look at you. Satoru’s eyes are glazed over, and low. His face is pink, his hair is ruffled, and his lips are swollen, but he’s never looked happier.

You shake your head, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth nervously. “It didn’t look right with my dress…” Satoru only stares at you, before he’s throwing his head back, groaning. “Fuck, I can’t do this. I can’t do this, princess, I need you so bad.” His chest rises and falls so rapidly, and you can feel his bulge pressing up against you as you sit on him.

You need him just as bad as he needs you, the wetness in your panties tells you all you need to know. Satoru is looking at you with those violently blue eyes. You realize that you’ve been holding your feelings back for years, even now — your love for him, your attraction, and your pure, unadulterated desire.

“Please,” he whispers, pressing a small kiss to your lips, “Please let me put it inside you, please, just the tip.. Please, please, please, fuck, it feels like ‘m gonna fuckin’ die, please, baby girl, need your pussy s’bad….” You enjoy the way he’s acting; you’ve never been wanted like this before, and you doubt you ever will.

“Satoru, you don’t have to beg,” you murmur, draping yourself across his body, arms around his shoulders as he palms your ass and sneaks his hand down to cup your clothed heat.

“Know I don’t,” he whispers, fingers pressing against you in a way that makes you lift your hips, and whine a little. “Look at how wet you are, girl. Any more and ya just may flood your panties.” His fingers push your panties to the side and you gasp as the cold air hits your pussy. His other hand hikes up your dress, balling it up in his fist.

“Gonna make you feel good first, doll,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your jawline. “Relax, ‘nd let Satoru take care of you, mkay?” You nodded feverishly as a finger slid through your plush folds. His finger almost immediately found your clit and swirled around it, causing you to let a little mewl escape your lips. Satoru’s lips were meanwhile pulled into a smug grin at the sound you made. He maneuvered your body, so you were lying back against the couch, legs spread for him.

He tugged your panties down your legs and tossed them somewhere, before pushing the fabric of your dress up and settling between your plump thighs. Without wasting any more time, his finger circled your entrance, teasing you. You huff a little, pouting down at the white haired man, and he grins in response before sliding two fingers into you.

You moan, arching your back as pleasure seeps through you. Satoru’s long fingers reach farther than yours ever could. He smiles at you as he curls his fingers against your walls. “Such pretty moans, good girl,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your thighs, as he begins to pump his fingers inside of you. Your thighs twitch, and you grip at the couch. His fingers are skilled, scissoring and curling, as the sloppy sound of your wetness echoed through the barn. Satoru leaned forward, enclosing his lips around your clit.

The combined effort of his fingers and his mouth had you squirming and whining beneath him. He pressed a hand to your stomach, his movements halting and eyes narrowing as they snapped to you; you know what he was telling you. Stop moving or he’d stop.

You couldn’t take that. You stilled your movements, trying your best to relax as Satoru slowly resumed his ministrations, lapping at your cunt while sliding his fingers in and out of you. His fingers curled against a spot that had your toes curling as you cried out his name. He pressed his tongue flat against your clit, and had another finger pressing into your heat. You let out a squeal at the slight burn, hand flying to grip his hair. “Satoru-! Ah, that’s too much!” He gave you a silencing glare, blue eyes honeyed with lust. His fingers nudged your g-spot, and the whine that left your lips let him know exactly what he had pressed.

His movements all sped up, as you felt your stomach tightening. Between each of your moans was a pant, as you cried of his name. Everytime his fingertips pressed against your g-spot, you felt yourself get closer and closer to orgasm. Mixed with his tongue swirling your clit, you couldn’t take it. Your thinking got fuzzy as the rubber band in your core was pulled farther and farther. “Toru! I-I’m close!” You whimpered, as his quick, skilled movements brought you to your peak. Your eyes rolled back as you gushed all over his fingers, breathing hard. You didn’t even notice, in your stupor, when he replaced his fingers with his tongue, lapping up your essence.

His tongue was flat against your entrance, as he licked from hole to clit and back again. When you finally came to, you were whining all over again, sensitive as Satoru flicked his tongue across your bundle of nerves. You pushed his head, letting out a. “Hold on, ‘m sensitive!” Satoru smacked your hand away, mumbling out, “Shh, doll. Gimme another one.”

He dived back in between your thighs, mouth latched onto your pussy as he pressed his tongue against your hole, fat tongue working itself while he slurped at your essence. A mixture of his spit and your juices dripped down your ass – but he was quick to slide his tongue down, licking that right up.

He was messy with his mouth, unabashedly slurping, sucking, and licking everything you had to offer, the wet smacking noises echoing through the room. You would’ve been embarrassed if it didn’t feel so good.

Before long, you were about to cum a second time, eyes squeezing closed as you gasped and spasmed, letting out a broken cry as another orgasm claimed your body. Satoru was ecstatic, lapping up your cum and guiding you through your high without breaking a sweat.

Once you came down from your high, he pulled away gently, his intense gaze locked on you. His eyes glimmered, pale hair askew as he latched his mouth back to yours. His hands gripped at your dress, yanking at the sleeves to pull them down your arms, before the entire dress was coming down to your waist.

Your lips moved feverishly as you fiddled with the buttons of his polo, and he raised his arms to slide it off. His buff form was revealed, abs firm and his strong arms moving to cocoon you against him. There were gentle words being exchanged between your lips. “So gorgeous, Y/N. Fuuuck, honey, can’t wait to feel your pussy ‘round my dick.” Satoru mumbles as his fingers fumble with his jeans. However, before he unbuttons them, he looks at you. “You sure you want this, sunshine? We can stop here, and keep kissin’. Fuck what I want, ‘kay? What does m’girl want?”

God, you didn’t think that he could get any hotter. But his consideration of your wants and needs make you get even wetter. “Satoru, I want you,” you say gently, one hand pressing to the side of his face. He nuzzles into your touch, eyes softening. “Want you too, sunshine. So much I just might go insane..” He finally unbuttoned those stupid jeans, yanking them down and his boxers with it. His length sprung out, and your eyes popped out of your head.

Satoru was the size that those fake ass dick pills promised, his tip pressing just under his belly button. His tip was mushroom shaped and fat, as pink as his blushed cheeks, and weeping fat beads of precum. His length was a bit on the skinnier side, and although his girth wasn’t anything to fear too much, his length definitely was. His dick was something straight out of porn propaganda.

“Toru, that’s not gonna fit,” you found yourself saying, your eyes flickering from his length to his pretty face in anxiousness. Satoru only leaned down to kiss you, shutting you up. “It’s okay, princess” he whispered sweetly. Even now, as his dick pressed against your stomach, his tip landed slightly above your navel. “Don’t be scared, ‘m gonna take such good care of you,” his kisses went down your neck, to your chest. He kissed around your breasts, before his tongue flicked out to lick your right nipple, hardening it. He turns his head, lavishing the same attention on your left. His hands multitasked, grabbing a pillow and sliding it underneath your back.

His kisses moved to the valley of your breasts, before going down your stomach. He pressed kisses into your love handles, to your stomach, to your cunt, which made you giggle, to your thighs, before he was holding up your legs and kissing up your calves. He even kissed your feet. He traced your stretch marks lovingly, murmuring out, “Only God knows how I’ve waited for this. For you. Fuck, Y/N, you’re just so fucking beautiful. More beautiful than any of the women in this town. Shit, I could cum just lookin’ at you…”

You couldn’t help but simper at his words, face warming as you wrap your legs around his waist. “Please just fuck me already, Satoru.” His tip slid against your clit and you let out a soft whine. “Please, just…” You were silenced by the feeling of him rubbing his tip down your slit, collecting your juices before you felt him pressing against your hole.

You hissed, hands flying up to his shoulders as your nails dug into his skin. To distract you from the burn of him entering you, he began to lather kisses and lovebites across your throat and collarbones. Your hole stretched around his tip, as tears burned in your eyes, the slight pain making you shift uncomfortably.

“It’s okay, baby girl, I got you,” he whispered against your skin, tongue sliding across your throat as he sucked more hickeys onto the expanse of your throat. He pushed his tip in, and once the burn of it faded, he fed you inch by inch of his dick. Your pussy constricted around him, sucking him in greedily as your juices coated his length.

The feeling of him bottoming out inside of you had you letting out a high-pitched whine, eyes rolling back. Above you, Satoru let out a whine identical to yours. “Oh, f-fuck,” he stuttered, his eyes squeezing shut, “Fuck, almost came. You’re so warm, ‘nd wet— You feel so good, baby doll, oh shit.. Your pussy’s grippin’ me so nicely, fuck, I-I can’t take it.. Oh my God, tell me when I can move…”

Satoru was breathing heavily, as he looked down at you, your pretty face contorted in pleasure as his tip nudged against your cervix. Just the feeling of him stretching you out had you seeing stars, euphoria coursing through your veins. When you finally adjusted, you tapped his shoulder, telling him you were ready.

Satoru pulled out, so that only his fat tip was inside of you, before rocking his hips into yours. That first shallow thrust had you release a hiccuped moan, gripping his shoulders. He took this as a positive sign. Satoru’s thrusts were slow, yet deep, and each time his tip was pressed to your cervix.

The feeling of it, thought it hurt some, was extremely pleasureful to you, and a whine of, “Faster, please,” exited your lips. Satoru’s brows furrowed slightly as he grinned. “Alright, darlin’ but when you can’t walk in the mornin’, don’t blame me!” He pulled out a little before pushing his hips into yours. He delivered you those deep strokes, just at a much faster pace.

Your tits bounced, body propelled forward as he held your thighs for stability, his dick stretching you out, stirring up your guts. The angle from the pillow only heightened your pleasure, and each thrust forced out a blissful whine or a whimper of his name from you.

Satoru let out heavy groans, not scared at all to let you know just how good you felt around him. And even better, he leaned down to let husky murmurs of praise fill your ears. “Such a good girl, takin’ me s’good… Like your pussy was made for me. You feel amazing, darlin’, wanna make you cum so bad… You feel good? Please tell me ‘m making you feel good, baby girl…” His voice was breathy and desperate in your ear, as you struggled to form the words he wanted to hear. “Please, baby? S-Shit, let me know how good ‘m making you feel on your birthday.”

His words only drive you crazier, head spinning as you gasp out, “Makin’ me feel s’good, Satoru! P-Please, please, please don’t stop, oh my God!” Satoru cursed under his breath as his hands slid from your thighs to your breasts, squeezing at them. His fingers circled your nipples, before he pulled, twisted and rolled them between his fingers. It only shoved you closer to the edge, as his tip briefly pressed against your g-spot. The brief gasp you gave from it let Satoru’s perceptive ass know, and he angled his hips to hit that spot, instead of your cervix.

The sound of your hips colliding filled your ears, along with Satoru’s raspy moans. Within no time, you were alerting him, “Toru, ‘m gonna c-cum again!” The third orgasm you had in a row, and it seemed like Satoru wasn’t stopping. He chuckled, moving one of the hands on your tits to swirl your clit in rough circles. “Mhm, go ‘head, sweet thing. Let go f’me.”

It pulsed underneath his finger pad, as your third climax seized your body. Your breathing heavy and quick as you let out gasped out, long moans and wails, your pussy clenching around his length as you creamed around him. Euphoria was spreading through you, to every part of your body.

Satoru’s eyes widened as he fucked you through your orgasm; his own was catching up to him, and it had him letting out deep whimpers mixed with his moans.

“Can I cum in you?” He gasped, hands gripping your waist. His nails digging into you so hard, crescent marks were being left on your skin. “Please, baby? Fuck, need to cum s’bad, and I wanna see my cum dripping from your pretty pussy…” He shoved his face into the curve of your neck as he began to beg. “Please, Y/N, wanna feel you around me while I fuckin’ cum, I-I need it, please, you feel s’perfect and I just wanna fill you up and watch it slide out. Wanna pump you full over and over until you’re filled with my babies—“ Satoru was rambling by now as he bucked desperately into you. He let out a shaky whine against your skin as your bodies collided passionately.

Your sensitive body quaked in his hold as he pleaded to cum in you. You couldn’t deny him, not when there were tears budding in his eyes, and his swollen dick was fucking you up like this, and he looked so pretty whining out your fucking name. You gave him a nod, even though your brain was foggy and you could barely care about what you were saying yes to.

Satoru let out a sigh of relief, moaning out, “Thank you, princess, thank you, thank you, love you, I love you—“ The feeling you got when you felt that first spurt of cum fill you was unbelievable. Warmth spread through you, as Satoru’s dick twitched and bobbed inside of you, before he was releasing his thick cum into you.

Just like he said he would, Satoru stuffed you full of his cum. He collapsed against you, face in your titties as you both breathed hard. He pulled out slowly, his dick getting a little soft. In a heartbeat, he was spreading your ass so he could watch his warm cum trickle from your hole.

And just like that, he was hard again.

You watched with dazed eyes as his dick twitched, ready to go again. Satoru grinned at you, tilting his head as he said, “I’d eat my cum out of you right fuckin’ now, but I need to feel you around me one more time.” He scooped you up, maneuvering so he was laying back and you were in his lap again. “For every year you are,” he murmured, his finger trailing down your spine, “Is every round we go. Every position we swap. I can keep up… Can you?”

You knew you couldn’t. You knew you couldn’t compete with his stamina. But you nodded your head yes, and lifted your hips anyways as a mix of both of your cum slid down your thigh. “Mhm, baby,” he laughed a little, holding your hips as he guided you. “You can keep up? I’ll have you fucked dumb by round five. Maybe even this round. Hopefully ya last, birthday girl.”

Before you could even respond to his bravado, he pulled you down, spearing you on his length. You let out a squeal, as you clutched his arms. You were still sensitive, and you made sure to whine it loudly. His hands moved to grip your ass, pulling you up and dropping you back down. His tip bumped your cervix s he did so, and you mewled, pressing your face into his chest.

“Nuh uh, sugar, you can last right?” He taunted, even though his breath was shaky. “Ride me. Right now.” He wasted no time with sliding in a joke, “You ride horses so well, I’m sure you can ride mine.”

You bit your lip as you planted your feet into the couch, using your lower body strength to pull your body up. You began to bounce down on him feverishly, immediately setting a fast pace for yourself. Satoru hit all the spots you needed, and you felt your fogged brain saying that you should’ve fucked him much longer ago.

Satoru cupped your ass as you rode him, stuttered breaths leaving him. “Oh, s-shit, baby, yer goin’ so fast—!” He gasped, your pussy clamping down on him like no other. You kept going, ignoring him, as if you were using him. You had something to prove. You purposefully clenched harder around him, intent on making him cum first, to prove he was the one who couldn’t last.

Satoru, unfortunately, quickly picked up on what you were doing. His hands gripped your hips once more as he huffed, “Sweet thing’s got a vendetta. Mm, fine. I’ll bite.” His heavy lidded lapis eyes peered at you as he began to thrust upwards to meet your bounces, tip jamming against your g-spot. The only noises that left your mouth were squeals, the little bit of control you had dissipating.

Satoru quickly regained his control as he fucked up into you, watching as your tits bounced and your eyes rolled back. Your sweat covered bodies merged, and his eyes were fixed on the way his dick slid in and out of you, and the cum coating his length. The noise of him pounding into you seemed to be amplified. For another time, you felt yourself reaching a climax, stomach tightening as your jaw went slack. It was coming so fast, you couldn’t even alert Satoru.

You let out strained moans of pleasure as he continued to fuck into your sensitive pussy, bringing you to the peak of ecstasy for the fourth time. The throbbing sensation in your clit, though slightly painful, only added to the intense pleasure coursing through your body. Each orgasmic wave that washed over you was a testament to the overwhelming pleasure you were experiencing.

Finally spent, you dropped against him, whimpering pathetically as he continued to use your body like a cocksleeve. Tears filled your eyes as he pushed past your sensitivity, fucking into you like a menace. You knew he had stamina, but God, this was insanity. His hand wrapped around your neck loosely, tilting your head up to look at him.

The sight Satoru laid his eyes on was heavenly. Your hair was mussed, starting to sweat out; your makeup was becoming messy from the tears beginning to slide down your face. Your lip combo was long gone, though there were remnants on both his lips and yours. The sight of your tears only fueled him, as he kissed them away. “Thank you for letting me have your body like this, pretty. Pussy was made for me. Just divine, you’re jus’ divine.. Gonna marry you and then ‘m gonna fuck you so much that your body wouldn’t be able to escape pregnancy— You want my babies, don’t you? Say yes, tell me you want me as much as I want you…” Satoru was very obviously close, the trembling and the rambles were a tell tale sign.

You found yourself mindlessly nodding to everything he said, and it wasn’t long before he was shooting another load deep into you. You thought he was done, before he was grabbing your chubby thighs, hoisting your legs up, and locking your body into a full nelson position.

As he drilled his long cock into you once more, it was simply too much for you. You gave in, mind going blank as he slammed into you, filling you to the hilt. Your eyes were glazed over, tears still falling. Your mouth hung open as overstimulated whimpers left your lips. You came a fifth time, but you were so far gone, you didn’t even notice.

“L-Look at you,” Satoru said, his lips pressing against your shoulder, “Too much for you, yeah? Look so pretty like this, sweet girl. Fuck, fuck, fuck, ‘m cummin’ too quick—!” Satoru was overstimulated himself, but that didn’t stop him. As he came a third time, the both of your fluids slathered all over his dick as he dropped you from the nelson, and flipped you onto your hands and knees.

“Need more of you,” he rasped, spreading your ass as he messily spread his cum around your pussy and thighs, before stuffing you full once more. He pressed kisses into your spine, as he gripped your ass, fucking you from behind.

The sex was depraved, as Satoru fucked you like a man starved. You were too far gone, drooling into the couch as he fucked you like you both were dying tomorrow. But, it wasn’t long before he was finally slowing down, heavy balls squeezing as he began to have dry orgasms.

Finally, he pulled out, scooping your barely there, sex-addled body up and carrying you to his bed. He dropped down into bed, you on top of him as he threw the blankets over the two of you.

He pressed kisses to your face, and then your lips, as he whispered, “Even if we die tonight, then I’ll die yours, and you’ll die mine.” Somehow you managed to reciprocate, as exhaustion slowly claimed you. “So then, I’ll die here under you; every night, all night.”

The last thing you heard before you passed out, were Satoru’s whispered love confessions, and promises for the future.

Your honeymoon phase of the relationship seemed to be forever, although things in town got harder. People were more openly racist; vandalizing your home, your father’s grave, and your mother managed to somehow overwork herself to death. You were now alone, in an empty house, and with an empty heart. Save for Satoru.

Where darkness lingered in the corners of your life, he was the light that banished all of it. To escape, he often drove you to Nebraska, far enough but still close. The two of you found an abandoned house on the outskirts of the state. A single two-floor house. You loved it utterly.

Satoru was a bit of a criminal, stealing a bobby pin from your hair and picking the lock. Managing to get into the house, so you could see the interior. It wasn’t like anyone was there to care. When you were there, the two of you cleaned up the house, and pretended like it was your own place. It was the place where you found each other on a dirty mattress on the second floor.

Months passed. Then a year. Satoru turned twenty, then so did you. Like your last birthday, it was spent in love, and in a sex-crazed haze. You two pave your own road, feet weathering the trail to the house in Nebraska, leaving your mark. It’s in the spring, when you two are at the house, and Satoru gets on one knee, pulling out a golden ring with a bright diamond.

“When I came home after graduation, I told my mama I was gon’ marry you,” he said matter of factually, “She asked me if you knew that. I told her no, but you would eventually. So now, I’m askin’ you if you’ll bless me by being my wife.”

You screamed yes so loud, the two of you were sure you alerted others of your presence.

Your engagement angered the town. Although Satoru was a person of color too, they were sure he looked best with a white girl. It got to the point where they got violent with you. Calling you slurs, and being so racist, you became afraid to leave Satoru’s side.

But, it was okay — because you two stuck together, always.

You prepared for your wedding as best as you could in your anxious state. Satoru’s mother even bought you a wedding dress — from one of your favorite brands, Vivienne Westwood. Vivienne made the most beautiful wedding dresses.

However, your hometown was getting overwhelming. You couldn’t help but look over your shoulder at any given moment. Satoru knew it was time to go.

He told his mother that he had to get you out of here — there was nothing but pain for you here. He couldn’t let you live like this. She understood, more than anything. She handed Satoru a wad of cash, telling him to visit soon.

He bought the house in Nebraska. How he found the owner, you never found out. But he bought that fucking house, and you two packed your bags and you never fucking looked back.

Nebraska was nice. You didn’t go into town often because of your anxiety, but Satoru assured you it was fine. You loved your home. You loved your future husband. You were soothed, and nothing could ruin it.

Until one day, Satoru didn’t come home from visiting his mother. You opted out that time, feeling a bit sick, and not up for the long drive. You got the call from his mother. You barely remembered anything but the words, ‘Shooting. Hospital. Coma.’ And you were catching the bus to Alabama.

You never wanted to return home, but you had to. You didn’t let them turn you away or shame you. You joined his mother in the hospital. And soon after you got there, after you held his hand, and sobbed his name, and kissed his face, and as if he was waiting for you, Satoru Gojo passed away.

The story was that Satoru got into an altercation with a group of men who said some horrible things about you. Even when they threatened him with a gun, he didn’t back down. He was always so protective when it came to you, and it killed him. And now, you were the reason that he won’t come home.

The birthday wish you made didn’t come true. Because the love of your life was gone, and you were so alone.

You stayed for his funeral. Open casket. Unlike everyone else, you didn’t wear black. You wore your wedding dress, and a veil. You were a widow, even though you hadn’t even gotten married yet. You never would. His mother held you by the waist, crying silently as she guided you to his casket. And as you leaned down to press a final kiss to his dead cold lips, nobody said a thing to you.

You disappeared soon after, with gentle words to his mother.

You retreated to your house in Nebraska, where you needed him. Months pass, and you need him still. You rot away in that house, plagued by memories. His scent still lingers on his untouched clothes, and sometimes you open the drawers to smell.

His mama calls sometimes, to see if you’re doing well. You lie to her and say that you’re doing fine. When really you’d kill yourself to hold him one more time.

You manage to force yourself to go to town, to buy things. You cry every day, and the bottles make it worse — because he was the only person you weren’t scared to tell you hurt.

And you feel so alone. You feel so alone out here. You feel so alone without him. You’re so alone out here, and you miss him more than anything. Every day, waking up without him warming you, breathing air that he does not share, it breaks you piece by piece. You feel so alone.

More months pass and you turn twenty-one alone. And you realize you can’t continue life like this.

You feel so alone.

On your twenty-first birthday, you put on your wedding dress, the one you never got to walk down the aisle in. You pick up the pills, sobbing as you whimper, “I’m so alone out here without you, baby.” You down the pills.

You remember all of this as you die, life flashing before your eyes. You’re curled up in your bed, now clutching one of his shirts to your chest. It’s like you fall asleep, despite the toxicity causing your body to fail. You finally die.

You wake up in a garden of flowers. Lillies of the valley, to be exact. You look around wildly. Cloudless blue sky, and flowers to be seen for days. You’re in your wedding dress. Is this what the afterlife is like? An endless, calming flower field? A breeze ruffles you. You begin to walk. Time doesn’t seem to pass here, because you can’t tell if it’s been seconds or days.

You know you’re dead, but why are you here?

“Y/N?”

You freeze. You know that voice. Tears fill your eyes, and you turn slowly. There he is. That ruffled white hair, bright blue eyes staring into you. You see the tears that well in his eyes, mirroring yours. “What are you doing here?” He cries, and he’s rushing to you, and he’s gathering you in his arms, cupping your face. You’re shaking your head and sobbing, because it’s him, it’s him and he’s here and you can hold him again.

“What’re you doing here, dream girl?” He sobs and he’s pressing his lips to yours, kissing you as if you’ll fade away. The kiss is salty as you two hold on to each other, tears mingling. When the two of you finally break away, he’s still holding your face, as you sob out, “I was so alone without you, Satoru! I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t live without you!”

He sobs harder and holds you against his chest, which is bloodied. “You killed yourself?” You nod ashamed, but he didn’t yell at you, or judge you. He never, ever has. He holds you, pressing kisses into your face, your hair. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t want to leave you — I held on, I held on until you came, and I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to survive,” he cried into your hair, “Leaving you hurt so much. It hurt more than getting shot did. We were supposed to have so much time. We were supposed to get married and have babies and die together when we old a-and, we didn’t.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you whimper back, as he squeezes you tight, tighter than he ever has. If you were alive, you’d be struggling to breathe. “But I wish you would’ve let it go. Let it go and came home to me.”

Satoru doesn’t respond, instead he’s pulling away to kiss you again. “I wish I did too. I would’ve came back to our house in Nebraska, where the world was empty, save you and I. But at least we’re here. I don’t know where it is, but this is where I’ve been. Waiting for you to come. I just want expecting it so soon.” He sniffles, obviously sad.

“I had nothing left for me,” you whispered, as the two of you lace your fingers together, “I needed you still. I… I was horrible.”

“I visited you in your sleep a lot,” Satoru admitted, as the two of you began to walk. “It was the only time I could. I watched you sleep, all the time. You slept with my shirts. It made me feel good.”

You lean against him, he’s warm and he smells just as though you remember. You two walk, for a while, talking about the future you deserved.

Until you reach a house.

A house identical to your house in Nebraska.

“Well, I’ll be,” Satoru whispered, obviously shocked, turning to look at you. Tears were falling down your cheeks as you smiled, whispering, “Guess you’re stuck with me, even in death.”

“Wouldn’t wanna be stuck anywhere else,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. He pulled a bobby pin out of your hair, and just like old times, Satoru picked the lock to the door.

You two stuck together; in life and death, and you still call home that house in Nebraska.

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visforvengeance · 11 days

Text

Downright Iconic

Requested by: No One :)

Notes: helllllo! ok so i lovelovelove rafe and i've been seeing you guys do like a southern gothic type thing so I wanted to try as a southern (Georgia and texas) woman myself. so let me just say I am an atheist that grew up with a highly Christian family. I became an atheist when I was like 14 so idk too many bible verses and I'm sorry if anything is in accurate. I'm just sacrilegious af, like this story oh man. ok this is very much xblack reader based so idk read it or don't. this is heavily HEAVILY ethel cain coded, specifically gibson girl and western nights. i hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it!

Pairing: rafe cameron x black!southern reader

Warnings: oh man there's so many warnings omg ok. dacryphilia. hinted somnophilia, sexual religious themes, unprotected sex, graphic graphic graphic, degradation (slut, whore, etc), actual slut shaming, I was high while writing most of this and it went berserk. um it's 4k words of porn without plot. i didn't proofread. I don't remember all of the warnings so please read at your own risk!

You sat in the front row of your church, along with your family and others who were important to society. There was your family, the Pastor’s family, the Camerons (Ward Cameron is the mayor of your quaint little town). The Thorntons and the Carreras. Your father’s voice boomed throughout the small church as he recited Proverbs 3:5-6. Kiara’s father had asked him to speak on keeping up your faith after he learned of his daughter’s betrayal.

She was caught dillydallying with that little blonde boy from the more southern parts of town. Her reputation took quite a hit when everyone found out. It nearly cost her family their business, if it weren’t for the closeness they shared with the Camerons, they’d have faced total ruin.

You shifted in your seat uncomfortably as you looked over at your friend. She kept her head down and her hands in her lap while the grip her father held on her wrist visibly tightened. You wanted to go and comfort her, but you knew your mother would disapprove. When she found out about the news, she banned you from ever even looking at Kiara again. Which was hard because she was your greatest friend. Despite your mother’s wishes, you still hung around her. You were her rock whenever she needed a shoulder to cry on, you defended her from those who called her foul names and turned on her.

Your eyes trailed over to the Cameron family. They all sat in their crisp and brightly colored Sunday’s best. Your eyes looked over the eldest child in the family, Rafe. He was a wild child, a true force to be reckoned with. Star athlete at your university, the town’s sweetheart. The boy your mama would be proud to call her son-in-law. The golden child. There was no better American teen than Rafe Cameron. Until the sun goes down and he’s the devil that lurks in the streets.

Rafe was a notorious party animal. He’s single-handedly why your town has a curfew in the first place. Despite his daddy being the mayor and constantly under public scrutiny, everyone under the age of 27 knew what Rafe Cameron got into. The parties, the drugs and alcohol, premarital sex, he did all of it.

The two eldest Cameron children were very sneaky. Sarah, who was more like her brother than she’d like to admit, was just as wild. For starters, she was dating one of those pogues. There’s nothing worse than dating a pogue around these parts. She claimed that they were in love and planned on leaving when they got the chance. You’d just nod and pet her hair, bless her heart. You weren’t a fan of slutshaming but if you looked up the very definition of a slut, there’d be a picture of Sarah sitting prettily. You didn’t know how the purity necklace Ward had gotten her hadn’t broken and melted to the ground from her sinful ways. But, you loved her nonetheless.

Since you were 13 and could no longer control the urges that came with being a growing girl, there had always been something about Rafe. You had a crush on the older boy for years. You didn’t partake in things like masturbation, but on days where you nearly gave in, thoughts of Rafe ran across your mind. His toned body hovered above yours while his breath fanned over your features. He was between your legs, grinding against you so slowly that you felt everything he had to offer.

Mama and daddy hadn’t taught you about sex yet. They always said that it was something you’d learn about when the time came. So, you didn’t know how vaginas and penises worked and how babies were made or why sometimes when you were alone, if you thought for too long then your breathing would become heavier and there’s this feeling in your stomach. And, you can’t keep your legs from rubbing together and you’re so hot, god (you’ll repent later), you could die. This unknown feeling gets so intense, but you’re so scared. So, you stop. You say your prayers and go to bed. You don’t tell anyone about these moments of little death.

Rafe was always indifferent towards you until you turned 16 and your body developed more. And, you were no longer just his annoying little sister’s best friend. Fuck, you were so much more. Your tits practically burst out of your sports bra when he sees you practicing for cheerleading. 17 and your ass was looking too good in your jeans. 18 and the sway of your hips had him on his knees.

He fucked countless girls dreaming that they were you instead. He just knows your virgin pussy would have him going crazy. He knew about your crush on him from one of the times you were talking to Kie while Sarah was out. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wish you were in his arms too. But, something in him was holding him back. He never knew what and didn’t bother to try and figure it out. He wasn’t going to for a good long while.

When you looked over at Rafe to discover he was already looking at you, your eyes widened and you immediately looked back at your father. Rafe felt his smirk grow. He spent his days in church daydreaming about bending you over and fucking you right in front of everyone and Jesus Christ himself. He laughed when he thought about the times he didn’t burst into flames.

He tuned out the preaching as he imagined what your tits would like while he drenched your top in the holy water before him. He imagined it was you saying those prayers while you’re stupid crying on his cock, a girl like you should be praying to the correct god. Rafe wanted you so badly. He decided that he was done wasting time. He’d marry you and make you his pretty little housewife if he had to. He had to stop before the very thought of you being pregnant and swollen with his baby made him cum in his pants.

After church, your father allowed you to hang out with Sarah at Tannyhill. The two of you lounged around by the pool while Rafe and his friends did the same on the opposite side. While you lay around, floating in the pool, you watched as Rafe watched you in the pool. The sunglasses helped tremendously at hiding your line of vision and allowed you to watch him without shame. His eyes trailed all over your body like he was in a trance and couldn’t choose where to look first.

You sat yourself up on your elbows, tilting your sunglasses down to look at him. When he realized that you were looking at him, he gave you a small smile and a wink. He watched your doe eyes stare back up at him, your bottom lip being pulled in between your teeth while your eyes trailed down his torso. The heat combined with the brightness of the sun cast a light sheen on Rafe’s body. It was making you clench so deliciously around nothing and had you panting like a bitch in heat.

Rafe chuckled as he inspected your behavior around him, but Sarah’s voice hid it well enough to go unnoticed. “Rafe, let’s have a party,” Sarah suggested. Rafe hardly ever said no to a party. Their parents left a lot so they had parties pretty often. But, you never attended them. Parties weren’t exactly your thing. You’d very much rather stay at home and watch a movie. Or the most adventurous you’d get is trespassing on public park grounds after hours.

“I’m down. You spread the word and I’ll get the goods.” Sarah nodded as she began to gather her things, you began to make your way out of the water. Rafe eyed your backside while water cascaded down the smooth brown skin. He stood mesmerized with his tongue in his cheek as your ass jiggled behind you. His eyes never left your body while you walked inside the house. He couldn’t wait until he got his hands on you.

After you and Sarah had settled inside, the two of you chilled inside her room for a bit. “You should come to the party.” Her and Kie always tried to get you to attend one but you always declined their advances. But, Sarah was being very persistent. “Why do you want me to come to your stupid party so bad? I’d feel so out of place. I don’t even have anything to wear.” You tried every excuse you had but Sarah wasn’t budging. “Look. We’re grown-ups now and you can’t just live your life like some virgin loser. You ain’t even had your first kiss yet, darling,” she says as she grabs your face so you’re looking at her.

She was right. You’ve never been more intimate than holding hands. Your parents put the fear of god in you and it’s buried so far down inside of you, that the only way to purify yourself of it is to die. It’s not like boys hadn’t tried, but you’d push them away faster than they could say ‘hallelujah’. You didn’t know what had gotten into you. These kinds of things never worried you before but this crippling fear of missing out has invaded your brain.

You stared up at the pale, peachy-colored ceiling and took a deep breath. “Fine, I’ll go,” you mumbled. Sarah began jumping around in excitement, “I still don’t have anything to wear, though. My clothes aren’t very party-like.” You frowned as you thought about your clothing options. They didn’t hug your body or show what you were working with. “Fuck it, we’re going shopping,” Sarah declares as she drags you out of bed.

She convinced you to get this spicy little number that showed off the parts of your body you adored the most. The two of you rushed back to her house so you could get ready. Rafe had already started setting everything up. You were beyond nervous as you’d never done something like this before, definitely never wore anything like this either. Sarah helped you do your makeup, an hour she spent straddling your waist as she focused. You looked like a different person, you didn't even recognize yourself. It was strange. And, your parents would have a stroke if they saw you now.

The house was filled before you knew it. Various stood all over with cups in their hands or they’re making out against the wall, to be honest, you were scared. You’d never seen so much vulgarity. You couldn’t believe you let Sarah talk you into this. Never again would you let it happen. She had the audacity to leave you alone and suck faces with John B. and you were pissed. You stood near the island of the kitchen with a solo cup in your hand. You were drinking the alcohol and it left you with an unrecognizable feeling. But it was a good one. The music calmed you, as did the LED lighting surrounding the place. You welcomed its embrace easier than you thought you would.

You watched over the crowd, continuously drinking as you sat on the counter. It’s been an hour and Sarah still hasn't returned. You feared you looked like a drunken loser. And, you did. Meanwhile, Rafe stood on the other side of the house, directly across from you. His height and your sitting on the counter allowed him to watch you as the hour passed. He battled with whether he should approach you or not. The alcohol in his system lowered his inhibitions and lessened his worries.

He pushed past the intoxicated groups of bodies and reached you. He stood in between your legs while his hands rested on either side of your thighs. Just like in your dream, you could feel the warmth of his breaths against your skin, you basked in it. He invaded your senses. His scent made you woozier along with the alcohol you consumed, he smelled of hints of beer and Bleu de Chanel. His body heat radiated off of him and onto you, engulfing you like a glove. His blue eyes were all that you could see as his half-lidded eyes looked down at you. If you were sober then you’d be questioning how he was able to tempt you like this. You’d do whatever he wanted of you if he asked. And, he liked it that way.

“Hey, baby.” Baby? Did he know who he was talking to? “Hi, Rafe.” He fucking loved the way you said his name, he could feel his cock starting to stir in his pants. “My sister ditch you for that little bitch, John B. huh?” He was sweaty and breathing so heavily. It made you wonder what had him like this. But, you nodded and continued to look into his eyes. “You want me to take you upstairs to keep you company?” His fingers were caressing your thigh at this point. His touch burned you but you liked it. That didn’t sound like such a bad idea. “Yeah,” you whispered to him. He helped you off of the counter and held your hand, pulling you upstairs to his bedroom. He absolutely had no intentions of talking, unless it was to talk you right out of this little dress you were wearing that made his dick jump in his shorts.

Once you were in the quietness of his bedroom, he locked the door behind him. He sat closely next to you on his bed. He eyed your body, focusing on the plushness of your tits that spilled out of your dress. And, your thighs that looked so soft, it made him want to mark them up. Fuck, he had to have you. It made you nervous being under his gaze for this long and this closely. He usually never paid you any attention and now, suddenly, it was all on you. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he started. He stared at you intently, practically moving you on top of him. You were hot all over. “Thank you,” you sounded more confused than pleased but Rafe could sense your nervousness and it was turning him on more than he thought was possible.

His fingers played with your inner thighs, softly drawing circles on them. “You know it’s funny. Sarah would be so pissed if she saw us right now.” You were breathless. And drunk. And so fucking close to him. And, there’s a little voice in the back of your head that’s begging you to get ahold of yourself and go home! But, you had to see this out. Maybe, you’d been praying and pleading with God to allow something like this to happen. Maybe, you’d let Rafe do whatever he wanted to you tonight. Maybe, you were willing to be Eve and let Rafe be the serpent that tempts you.

“Why?” He chuckled and shook his head. You were just a dumb little girl after all. He couldn’t wait until you were his. He’d teach you. And, mold you into his perfect woman. His pretty, pliant princess. “Because she wouldn’t want her brother and her best friend fucking each other. Not if it’s me and not if it’s you.” Everyone and their mother knew you were too good for anyone, especially Rafe. He may have been everyone’s favorite boy but they knew he had a temper on him.

“You wanna fuck me?” Were you in heaven? Like actually? You knew what ‘fucking’ meant but not exactly how to do it. But, that didn’t mean it wasn’t making you incredibly wet to know that it was what he wanted to do with you. You looked at him with wide eyes. He nodded before pressing his lips to your neck, kissing and sucking at your pulse point. “I can’t stop thinking about how that pussy would feel wrapped around my cock, mama.” His fingers were now grazing the poor excuse for underwear that you were wearing. Sarah made you buy some thongs because something about panty lines not being attractive or whatever.

You opened your legs wider for him, which made him groan into your neck. He pulled your panties to the side and was immediately met with your wetness. He softly rubbed your clit, your slick making it easy for his fingers to glide across it, quickly bringing you to orgasm. It happened too quickly for you to provide a proper warning but Rafe wasn’t complaining as he watched you come undone in his lap. Your thighs still shook around his wrist while you came down from your high.

“That was so hot, baby.” He pecked your lips once, then twice. “I’ve never done that before,” you mumbled. You were beyond embarrassed to admit that. But, Rafe managed to calm you down by stroking your arm. “Not even on your own?” You shook your head. You heard Sarah and Kie talk about cumming and how it felt but you could only imagine. You almost did try pleasuring yourself once, but you were already so scared. Your parents were supposed to be out and all was good until you heard your mom calling for you and you never tried again.

Rafe was having such a hard time trying not to rip your clothes off and fuck you beyond repair. So pretty and so untouched. He didn’t care if it was obsessive or predatory, you were going to be his. He was going to make sure of it. “Do you wanna do it again, babe?” After you gave him a yes, he wasted no time in getting both of your clothes off. Rafe couldn’t believe you were letting him do this. He didn’t believe in God and all of that shit but he was silently thanking whoever there was for this moment that he could only dream of. He thought with you being the pastor’s daughter, that you’d at least make him wait. But, you were just as wanting as he was. Or, you were proper drunk. But, that’s not what matters.

Rafe paused before reattaching himself to your body, his eyes looked over it. Admiring it. Was he in love with you? He could picture his life with you. You’d give him a handsome son and a beautiful daughter. And, even after you’ve aged and had kids, you’d still be his beautiful, loyal fucking housewife. Oh, shit. He had to be in love with you. He hadn’t even stuck his dick in you yet and he’s daydreaming about giving you his kids, what the fuck. He’d never felt this fucking giddy about a girl until you. You made him feel like a little schoolgirl with a crush or some shit. It was unnerving. But, right now he was going to make you see God on his cock, and feelings will come later.

He leaned over, scattering kisses around your body. “You’re so beautiful, baby. The most beautiful I’ve ever seen.” And he meant it this time. As his lips enclosed themselves around your nipple, teeth grazing them, he moaned. “So fucking beautiful, princess.” He was moaning like a slut above you and you were still a virgin in his bed. He was screwed. However, he didn’t see the effect all of this had on you. Your hips were twitching uncontrollably because of the proximity and of him and his words and his actions. You were begging for something, you didn’t know what. But, you were so fucking desperate for Rafe, you couldn’t bear it. You felt tears sliding down the sides of your face, Rafe noticed in his daze which made him stutter a bit. Were you crying?

“Are you…fucking crying? Baby?” His hands caressed your cheeks but his tone was mocking you. And, you liked it. You nodded shyly. He scoffed and smirked, kissing your head. “Why are you crying, hm?” You were too afraid to say that it was because you were inexperienced. And, your inability to do what you wanted was making you frustrated. Rafe looked at you expectantly, even nudging your cheek a bit. You sighed, “I can’t say what I want you to do to me because I can’t articulate it well enough. Rafe, I don’t know what any of this is or how I’m feeling and I need you to-” You stopped yourself. You couldn’t say it. Your one piece of dignity wouldn’t allow you to. “You need me to teach you, baby? You want Daddy to show you how to make yourself feel good when he can’t help you?” It felt like the fucking wind had been knocked out of you as he spoke.

“W-what?” Your eyes were wide. No one had ever spoken to you this way. And, you think you’d be quite disgusted if it were anyone else. But, Rafe was making you leave a puddle on his damn sheets. He situated himself between your legs so that his cock lay flat against your clit. He pushed his hips into you, which caused you to shiver. “I said, do you need me to show you what it feels like to lose your mind?” His hips never stopped moving. And, you never stopped moaning. What the hell was happening? You didn’t know, but you didn’t want it to stop. You were begging God to not let it stop, you didn’t care about any of it at this moment. Not what your family would think if they knew what a little whore you were being for this white boy. And, you didn’t care if you were going to hell, because as long as you had Rafe with you, no place would be as bad. As Rafe humped you into a senseless, babbling mess, your last comprehensive thought was that you now belonged to Rafe Cameron. He was yours as you were his and nothing would be able to change that. You didn’t know what voodoo magic Rafe had coursing through him but you knew you’d never be separated, till death do you part.

His hips stopped when he realized he hadn’t gotten a response. “I can’t hear you, pretty girl. You listening?” You whined at the loss of friction but answered. “Yes, baby. I need you to teach me. Please just fuckin teach me, Rafe.” You didn’t know that you just signed your deal with the devil. When Rafe said teach you, he really meant teach you.

~Now, dearest reader, I beg you let your imagination run wild with that last one.~

That was enough of a confirmation for Rafe as his hips resumed their movement. You were feeling the same things as you did when you were alone but more intense. Your tummy twisted with pleasure as your legs clasped tightly around Rafe's slutty, little waist. Your nails raked across his back harshly, but he didn’t mind. Your legs began to shake and you were panting now. You couldn’t describe this feeling, but you trusted Rafe. If he felt nothing was wrong then you allowed yourself to truly embrace it. He looked down at you, kissing you all over your face. “Come on, baby, you can do it. Give me what I want, can you do that? You gonna make a mess of me?”

You were blinded by white, hot pleasure. Rafe watched as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, he could feel the wet spawning of your pussy against him. You were fucking majestic. He wanted to watch you cum over and over again, that was his goal tonight. You felt yourself grow tired as you came down from your high. Rafe planted kisses all over your face again, “you did so good, baby.” You hummed in acknowledgment, beginning to fall asleep. But, Rafe tapped your cheek rather harshly. “What are ya doing, huh? You thought we were done?” You whined. Your half-lidded eyes stared up at Rafe. “But, Rafey, I’m so tired.” He manhandled you onto your back again, hiking your leg around his waist as he began to line himself up with your entrance.

“That’s not my problem, baby. I didn’t get to cum and you did twice. That’s not fair, princess. Don’t you want Daddy to feel good too?” You nodded, sleepily. “Good girl. Just let me fuck you, and then you can go to sleep, alright?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he pushed himself into you, bottoming out. He didn’t bother checking up on you as he was fucking for his pleasure now. He moaned at the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing his cock, already trying to milk him for everything he’s got.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby.” He hadn’t felt anyone as tight as you since he first fucked a girl. He began thrusting inside of you, causing the both of you to moan. You were half asleep while he pounded your shit. The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping, and wet pussy, and heavy groans and soft moans. It was purely pornographic. If only God could see you now. If only your father and mother could see you now.

The brutal fucking Rafe was giving you was fast and hard, but he was hitting that sweet spot so deliciously. You were clenching uncontrollably around him as you began squirting around him. When Rafe realized, he cursed under his breath. His hips stuttered as he watched the sight below him. When Rafe saw the tears streaming down your face again, it had him spilling inside of you. Mixtures of curses and groans left him as he came.

His head was in the crop of your neck while you played with his hair. You began to fall asleep again, feeling content just like this. Despite the mess you were laying in. But, Rafe began to move his hips again. Slowly this time. “Rafe, you said-“ “sh shh, baby, just go to sleep. Don’t worry about this.”

#x black reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut

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kaijuno · 5 months

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In light of Fall Out Boy’s GARBAGE cover of the song. Let’s learn about the original. Notice how they’re actually in chronological order instead of just random references 😒😒😒😒

1949

Harry Truman was inaugurated as U.S. president after being elected in 1948 to his own term; previously he was sworn in following the death of Franklin D. Roosevelt. He authorized the use of atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in Japan during World War II, on August 6 and August 9, 1945, respectively.

Doris Day enters the public spotlight with the films My Dream Is Yours and It’s a Great Feeling as well as popular songs like “It’s Magic”; divorces her second husband.

Red China: The Communist Party of China wins the Chinese Civil War, establishing the People’s Republic of China.

Johnnie Ray signs his first recording contract with Okeh Records, although he would not become popular for another two years.

South Pacific, the prize-winning musical, opens on Broadway on April 7.

Walter Winchell is an aggressive radio and newspaper journalist credited with inventing the gossip column.

Joe DiMaggio and the New York Yankees go to the World Series five times in the 1940s, winning four of them.

1950

Joe McCarthy, the US Senator, gains national attention and begins his anti-communist crusade with his Lincoln Day speech.

Richard Nixon is first elected to the United States Senate.

Studebaker, a popular car company, begins its financial downfall.

Television is becoming widespread throughout Europe and North America.

North Korea and South Korea declare war after Northern forces stream south on June 25.

Marilyn Monroe soars in popularity with five new movies, including The Asphalt Jungle and All About Eve, and attempts suicide after the death of friend Johnny Hyde who asked to marry her several times, but she refused respectfully. Monroe would later (1954) be married for a brief time to Joe DiMaggio (mentioned in the previous verse).

1951

The Rosenbergs, Ethel and Julius, were convicted on March 29 for espionage.

H-Bomb is in the middle of its development as a nuclear weapon, announced in early 1950 and first tested in late 1952.

Sugar Ray Robinson, a champion welterweight boxer.

Panmunjom, the border village in Korea, is the location of truce talks between the parties of the Korean War.

Marlon Brando is nominated for the Academy Award for Best Actor for his role in A Streetcar Named Desire.

The King and I, musical, opens on Broadway on March 29.

The Catcher in the Rye, a controversial novel by J. D. Salinger, is published.

1952

Dwight D. Eisenhower is first elected as U.S. president, winning by a landslide margin of 442 to 89 electoral votes.

The vaccine for polio is privately tested by Jonas Salk.

England’s got a new queen: Queen Elizabeth II succeeds to the throne upon the death of her father, George VI, and is crowned the next year.

Rocky Marciano defeats Jersey Joe Walcott, becoming the world Heavyweight champion.

Liberace has a popular 1950s television show for his musical entertainment.

Santayana goodbye: George Santayana, philosopher, essayist, poet, and novelist, dies on September 26.

1953

Joseph Stalin dies on March 5, yielding his position as leader of the Soviet Union.

Georgy Maksimilianovich Malenkov succeeds Stalin for six months following his death. Malenkov had presided over Stalin’s purges of party “enemies”, but would be spared a similar fate by Nikita Khrushchev mentioned later in verse.

Gamal Abdel Nasser acts as the true power behind the new Egyptian nation as Muhammad Naguib’s minister of the interior.

Sergei Prokofiev, the composer, dies on March 5, the same day as Stalin.

Winthrop Rockefeller and his wife Barbara are involved in a highly publicized divorce, culminating in 1954 with a record-breaking $5.5 million settlement.

Roy Campanella, an African-American baseball catcher for the Brooklyn Dodgers, receives the National League’s Most Valuable Player award for the second time.

Communist bloc is a group of communist nations dominated by the Soviet Union at this time. Probably a reference to the Uprising of 1953 in East Germany.

1954

Roy Cohn resigns as Joseph McCarthy’s chief counsel and enters private practice with the fall of McCarthy. He also worked to prosecute the Rosenbergs, mentioned earlier.

Juan Perón spends his last full year as President of Argentina before a September 1955 coup.

Arturo Toscanini is at the height of his fame as a conductor, performing regularly with the NBC Symphony Orchestra on national radio.

Dacron is an early artificial fiber made from the same plastic as polyester.

Dien Bien Phu falls. A village in North Vietnam falls to Viet Minh forces under Vo Nguyen Giap, leading to the creation of North Vietnam and South Vietnam as separate states.

“Rock Around the Clock” is a hit single released by Bill Haley & His Comets in May, spurring worldwide interest in rock and roll music.

1955

Albert Einstein dies on April 18 at the age of 76.

James Dean achieves success with East of Eden and Rebel Without a Cause, gets nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actor, and dies in a car accident on September 30 at the age of 24.

Brooklyn’s got a winning team: The Brooklyn Dodgers win the World Series for the only time before their move to Los Angeles.

Davy Crockett is a Disney television miniseries about the legendary frontiersman of the same name. The show was a huge hit with young boys and inspired a short-lived “coonskin cap” craze.

Peter Pan is broadcast on TV live and in color from the 1954 version of the stage musical starring Mary Martin on March 7. Disney released an animated version the previous year.

Elvis Presley signs with RCA Records on November 21, beginning his pop career.

Disneyland opens on July 17, 1955 as Walt Disney’s first theme park.

1956

Brigitte Bardot appears in her first mainstream film And God Created Woman and establishes an international reputation as a French “sex kitten”.

Budapest is the capital city of Hungary and site of the 1956 Hungarian Revolution.

Alabama is the site of the Montgomery Bus Boycott which ultimately led to the removal of the last race laws in the USA. Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King, Jr figure prominently.

Nikita Khrushchev makes his famous Secret Speech denouncing Stalin’s “cult of personality” on February 25.

Princess Grace Kelly releases her last film, High Society, and marries Prince Rainier III of Monaco.

Peyton Place, the best-selling novel by Grace Metalious, is published. Though mild compared to today’s prime time, it shocked the reserved values of the 1950s.

Trouble in the Suez: The Suez Crisis boils as Egypt nationalizes the Suez Canal on October 29.

1957

Little Rock, Arkansas is the site of an anti-integration standoff, as Governor Orval Faubus stops the Little Rock Nine from attending Little Rock Central High School and President Dwight D. Eisenhower deploys the 101st Airborne Division to counteract him.

Boris Pasternak, the Russian author, publishes his famous novel Doctor Zhivago.

Mickey Mantle is in the middle of his career as a famous New York Yankees outfielder and American League All-Star for the sixth year in a row.

Jack Kerouac publishes his first novel in seven years, On the Road.

Sputnik becomes the first artificial satellite, launched by the Soviet Union on October 4, marking the start of the space race.

Chou En-Lai, Premier of the People’s Republic of China, survives an assassination attempt on the charter airliner Kashmir Princess.

Bridge on the River Kwai is released as a film adaptation of the 1954 novel and receives seven Academy Awards, including Best Picture.

1958

Lebanon is engulfed in a political and religious crisis that eventually involves U.S. intervention.

Charles de Gaulle is elected first president of the French Fifth Republic following the Algerian Crisis.

California baseball begins as the Brooklyn Dodgers and New York Giants move to California and become the Los Angeles Dodgers and San Francisco Giants. They are the first major league teams west of Kansas City.

Charles Starkweather Homicide captures the attention of Americans, in which he kills eleven people between January 25 and 29 before being caught in a massive manhunt in Douglas, Wyoming.

Children of Thalidomide: Mothers taking the drug Thalidomide had children born with congenital birth defects caused by the sleeping aid and antiemetic, which was also used at times to treat morning sickness.

1959

Buddy Holly dies in a plane crash on February 3 with Ritchie Valens and The Big Bopper, in a day that had a devastating impact on the country and youth culture. Joel prefaces the lyric with a Holly signature vocal hiccup: “Uh-huh, uh-huh.”

Ben-Hur, a film based around the New Testament starring Charlton Heston, wins eleven Academy Awards, including Best Picture.

Space Monkey: Able and Miss Baker return to Earth from space aboard the flight Jupiter AM-18.

The Mafia are the center of attention for the FBI and public attention builds to this organized crime society with a historically Sicilian-American origin.

Hula hoops reach 100 million in sales as the latest toy fad.

Fidel Castro comes to power after a revolution in Cuba and visits the United States later that year on an unofficial twelve-day tour.

Edsel is a no-go: Production of this car marque ends after only three years due to poor sales.

1960

U-2: An American U-2 spy plane piloted by Francis Gary Powers was shot down over the Soviet Union, causing the U-2 Crisis of 1960.

Syngman Rhee was rescued by the CIA after being forced to resign as leader of South Korea for allegedly fixing an election and embezzling more than US $20 million.

Payola, illegal payments for radio broadcasting of songs, was publicized due to Dick Clark’s testimony before Congress and Alan Freed’s public disgrace.

John F. Kennedy beats Richard Nixon in the November 8 general election.

Chubby Checker popularizes the dance The Twist with his cover of the song of the same name.

Psycho: An Alfred Hitchcock thriller, based on a pulp novel by Robert Bloch and adapted by Joseph Stefano, which becomes a landmark in graphic violence and cinema sensationalism. The screeching violins heard briefly in the background of the song are a trademark of the film’s soundtrack.

Belgians in the Congo: The Republic of the Congo (Leopoldville) was declared independent of Belgium on June 30, with Joseph Kasavubu as President and Patrice Lumumba as Prime Minister.

1961

Ernest Hemingway commits suicide on July 2 after a long battle with depression.

Adolf Eichmann, a “most wanted” Nazi war criminal, is traced to Argentina and captured by Mossad agents. He is covertly taken to Israel where he is put on trial for crimes against humanityin Germany during World War II, convicted, and hanged.

Stranger in a Strange Land, written by Robert A. Heinlein, is a breakthrough best-seller with themes of sexual freedom and liberation.

Bob Dylan is signed to Columbia Records after a New York Times review by critic Robert Shelton.

Berlin is separated into West Berlin and East Berlin, and from the rest of East Germany, when the Berlin Wall is erected on August 13 to prevent citizens escaping to the West.

The Bay of Pigs Invasion fails, an attempt by United States-trained Cuban exiles to invade Cuba and overthrow Fidel Castro.

1962

Lawrence of Arabia: The Academy Award-winning film based on the life of T. E. Lawrence starring Peter O’Toole premieres in America on December 16.

British Beatlemania: The Beatles, a British rock group, gain Ringo Starr as drummer and Brian Epstein as manager, and join the EMI’s Parlophone label. They soon become the world’s most famous rock band, with the word “Beatlemania” adopted by the press for their fans’ unprecedented enthusiasm. It also began the British Invasion in the United States.

Ole’ Miss: James Meredith integrates the University of Mississippi

John Glenn: Flew the first American manned orbital mission termed “Friendship 7” on February 20.

Liston beats Patterson: Sonny Liston and Floyd Patterson fight for the world heavyweight championship on September 25, ending in a first-round knockout. This match marked the first time Patterson had ever been knocked out and one of only eight losses in his 20-year professional career.

1963

Pope Paul VI: Cardinal Giovanni Montini is elected to the papacy and takes the papal name of Paul VI.

Malcolm X makes his infamous statement “The chickens have come home to roost” about the Kennedy assassination, thus causing the Nation of Islam to censor him.

British politician sex: The British Secretary of State for War, John Profumo, has a relationship with a showgirl, and then lies when questioned about it before the House of Commons. When the truth came out, it led to his own resignation and undermined the credibility of the Prime Minister.

JFK blown away: President John F. Kennedy is assassinated on November 22 while riding in an open convertible through Dallas.

1965

Birth control: In the early 1960s, oral contraceptives, popularly known as “the pill”, first go on the market and are extremely popular. Griswold v. Connecticut in 1965 challenged a Connecticut law prohibiting contraceptives. In 1968, Pope Paul VI released a papal encyclical entitled Humanae Vitae which declared artificial birth control a sin.

Ho Chi Minh: A Vietnamese communist, who served as President of Vietnam from 1954–1969. March 2 Operation Rolling Thunder begins bombing of the Ho Chi Minh Trail supply line from North Vietnam to the Vietcong rebels in the south. On March 8, the first U.S. combat troops, 3,500 marines, land in South Vietnam.

1968

Richard Nixon back again: Former Vice President Nixon is elected President in 1968.

1969

Moonshot: Apollo 11, the first manned lunar landing, successfully lands on the moon.

Woodstock: Famous rock and roll festival of 1969 that came to be the epitome of the counterculture movement.

1974–75

Watergate: Political scandal that began when the Democratic National Committee’s headquarters at the Watergate office complex in Washington, DC was broken into. After the break-in, word began to spread that President Richard Nixon (a Republican) may have known about the break-in, and tried to cover it up. The scandal would ultimately result in the resignation of President Nixon, and to date, this remains the only time that anyone has ever resigned the United States Presidency.

Punk rock: The Ramones form, with the Sex Pistols following in 1975, bringing in the punk era.

1976–77

(An item from 1977 comes before three items from 1976 to make the song scan.)

Menachem Begin becomes Prime Minister of Israel in 1977 and negotiates the Camp David Accords with Egypt’s president in 1978.

Ronald Reagan was elected President of the United States in 1980, but he first attempted to run for the position in 1976.

Palestine: a United Nations resolution that calls for an independent Palestinian state and to end the Israeli occupation.

Terror on the airline: Numerous aircraft hijackings take place, specifically, the Palestinian hijack of Air France Flight 139 and the subsequent Operation Entebbe in Uganda.

1979

Ayatollah’s in Iran: During the Iranian Revolution of 1979, the West-backed and secular Shah is overthrown as the Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini gains power after years in exile and forces Islamic law.

Russians in Afghanistan: Following their move into Afghanistan, Soviet forces fight a ten-year war, from 1979 to 1989.

1983

Wheel of Fortune: A hit television game show which has been TV’s highest-rated syndicated program since 1983.

Sally Ride: In 1983 she becomes the first American woman in space. Ride’s quip from space “Better than an E-ticket”, harkens back to the opening of Disneyland mentioned earlier, with the E-ticket purchase needed for the best rides.

Heavy metal suicide: In the 1980s Ozzy Osbourne and the bands Judas Priest and Metallica were brought to court by parents who accused the musicians of hiding subliminal pro-suicide messages in their music.

Foreign debts: Persistent U.S. trade deficits

Homeless vets: Veterans of the Vietnam War, including many disabled ex-military, are reported to be left homeless and impoverished.

AIDS: A collection of symptoms and infections in humans resulting from the specific damage to the immune system caused by infection with the human immunodeficiency virus (HIV). It is first detected and recognized in the 1980s, and was on its way to becoming a pandemic.

Crack cocaine use surged in the mid-to-late 1980s.

1984

Bernie Goetz: On December 22, Goetz shot four young men who he said were threatening him on a New York City subway. Goetz was charged with attempted murder but was acquitted of the charges, though convicted of carrying an unlicensed gun.

1988

Hypodermics on the shore: Medical waste was found washed up on beaches in New Jersey after being illegally dumped at sea. Before this event, waste dumped in the oceans was an “out of sight, out of mind” affair. This has been cited as one of the crucial turning points in popular opinion on environmentalism.

1989

China’s under martial law: On May 20, China declares martial law, enabling them to use force of arms against protesting students to end the Tiananmen Square protests.

Rock-and-roller cola wars: Soft drink giants Coke and Pepsi each run marketing campaigns using rock & roll and popular music stars to reach the teenage and young adult demographic.

Short summaries of all 119 references mentioned in the song, you’re welcome.

#look fall out boy is one of my fave bands but this is inexcusable #fall out boy #Billy Joel #music #Spotify

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brummiereader · 3 months

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PREVIOUS PART MASTERLIST

Don't Fear The Reaper (Part Four/ Dark!Tommy)

Summary: In attempts to escape the continued teasing about your small mishap the previous day, and the unwarranted grand display of roses sent anonymously to you that morning, you find yourself down by the docks of Small Heath where you would attempt to escape not the playful banter from your colleagues but the heavy footsteps of a man following you, when an unexpected individual conveniently comes to your aid. Your boss, Tommy.

Warnings: Language, supernatural themes, visions, manipulation of time, angst, fluff, smut, stalking, controlling behaviour, dark romance, violence, manipulation, obsessiveness, dark!tommy (This is a dark fic, please read the warnings before continuing)

Word Count: 3577

"Early bird catches the worm" Polly said winking to you as she blew out the matchstick she had just used to light one of the many candles now scattered throughout the room whilst you walked through the offices early the next morning, Intent on making up for your tardiness from the previous day.

" Something like that" you smiled back, taking off the many layers of attire you had dressed yourself in an attempt to keep the bitter frost that had descended on the city from numbing every finger and toe you wished to keep intact. That, and a keen display to every resident of Small Heath you was adamant knew of your little mishap yesterday morning that you wasn't a woman that goes flaunting her bare legs willy-nilly to any Tom, Dick and Harry.

"Ladies" Ada said, walking through with a giggling Ethel and Betsy following behind her. "Save me from them" She whispered to you, thankful for your presence and the diversion you gave from Ethel's ever expanding list of profanities.

" Getting brutal out there already" Ethel commented, rubbing her hands together as everyone turned to face her, pleasantly surprised by the lack of artistic flare in her choice of words. " So cold it would make any fuckers bollocks shrink back up" she said, running over to the burning candle Polly had lit as she hovered her trembling hands over the warm orange flame. Never mind. "What?" Ethel asked, oblivious to everything but the four pairs of eyes now staring back at her.

" Two minutes..." Polly said pointing at Ethel who was now rolling her eyes at the Shelby matriarch and everyone else that was giving her disapproving shakes of their heads. "... I counted" Polly finished, placing a large washed out jar of Robertson's apricot jam on her desk with a thud. " Profanity pot. Has your name written on it, right there. Eth-el" Polly smiled, turning it to show her as Ethel opened her mouth to say something undoubtedly crude before she realised pay day was two weeks away and she'd never make it that far.

"I will be taking a vow of silence from this day forth" Ethel commented with her head held high, slowly pushing the glass jar out of sight behind a flower pot on her desk as Polly arched her brow." In thanks to the almighty, as the brides of Christ do" she said turning the document gracefully in front of her, a small dramatic sigh of reflection leaving her lips at her sudden founded faith, the same devotion that had seen her never step another foot in church since the day she got dunked by the priest on her baptism almost twenty five years ago.

" Bloody hell" Polly said, crossing her arms as Ethel cleared her throat, nodding to the pot that Polly was now wading through her pockets to find a shilling for.

"Oi oi!" John said as he strolled through the offices making a swift beeline for your desk, deliberately sitting on the pile of folders you intended on filing. " No show for us this morning Y/N?" he teased as you pulled the papers from under his rather plump bum. "Ay up" he winked, turning the tooth pick in his mouth as you rolled your eyes exceptionally high in response to his playful remarks.

"Alright darling?" Arthur commented, wrapping his arm around John's shoulders whilst he straightened his moustache out, a small smirk settling on the corner of his lips as you waited for him and everyone else to continue their badgering of you.

"Y/N" Michael sauntered over, cap in hand with a grin on his face like some over-zealous school boy. Oh, for fuck sake. Were they all waiting for you to go into a song and dance and finish off where things had ended the previous day? Diamond encrusted nipple pasties and feathers included?

"Delivery for Miss Y/L/N" came a small voice from behind the three gormless muppets in front of you.

" Yes, here" you said, parting Arthur and John to see a young boy standing with a bouquet of a dozen red roses in his hand, his eyes barely visible above the large arrangement of fresh flowers.

" Are you the girl that..." The young shop boy started to say before John put his hand over his mouth, muffling the rest of his sentence as your eyes narrowed in on the likely culprit behind all the stares you had received that morning on your way to work.

" John boy 'ere's got a big mouth, ain't that right John?" Arthur sniffed, patting his brother's shoulder as he turned to face him.

" That's not all I've got that's big love" the third in line to the Shelby throne said winking to you, a cheeky smile dimpling his rounded cheeks.

" Give over! I've seen your todger" Arthur laughed as an intense argument between them both as to the specifics of when, and if that event had even occurred ensued. Arthurs detailed description of John's preference to being stark naked from an early age solidifying the date said unfortunate event took place, resulting in the third-youngest brother to swear on each of his siblings lives that he was now, sizeably endowed.

"Thank you" you said with a sigh of relief at the welcome end to their bickering as you reached over the desk to take the bouquet from the poor boy whose mouth was still muffled by John's forgetful hand when your eyes shot up to see Tommy leaning against the doorway, a cigarette hanging loosely from the corner of his lips. Shit." No card?" You looked nervously at the boy who simply shook his head in response as Tommy's piercing stare heated your cheeks to an unfortunate shade of red. This was the last thing you needed, an unwarranted gesture sabotaging the understanding you had both come to the previous day in his office.

" Well that's not bloody fair!" Betsy huffed as Ethel bit her bottom lip in an attempt to desperately hold back her own thoughts on the extravagant gift and the vow of silence she was already close to breaking.

" Bit creepy, don't you think? No message, no idea who it's from" you said to the room whilst you abruptly stood up, smoothing down your dress before swiftly turning on your heel and marching over to the bin next to Tommy to discard of the large arrangement of flowers, intent on showing your boss exactly where you stood on the matter.

" Looks like you have a secret admirer love" Tommy smirked as he subtly tilted his head to get a better look at you as you bent down to pick up the scattered petals that had fallen at his feet in your dramatic display of loyalty. " Wonder who?" Tommy quietly mused to you looking over your shoulder, subtly jerking his head up to Michael's direction before strolling off to his office, hands casually placed in his trouser pockets as he winked to the young delivery boy. Michael. You thought to yourself, not missing the small gesture Tommy had sent his way as your head snapped to the man whose name kept coming up, the whole exchange also not going missed by Polly's watchful eye, who's feet found her charging over to Tommy's office to confront him about the little game she knew he was playing, and the flowers that were undoubtedly sent by him.

"Wait, hang on...wait. Who sent them? Fuck..." You said with your hand out to halt the delivery boy as he ran out the door. Your flustered state not quick enough to stop his speedy steps and avoidance of questions as the hustle of the office resumed and you stood there nervously watching the Shelby cousin in the corner of your eye. Was it Michael who sent you those flowers? Michael, who was watching you that night?

"Lucky posy for you me love?" an older lady dressed in ragged clothing asked with a small bouquet of heather bound with twine held out for you to take as you were about to turn the corner onto the docks. Some fresh air from the confines of the office had been your pathetic excuse to not join the others at the Garrison for drinks that afternoon, ultimately leading you to the very spot you were standing in that might as well have been the dodgiest back alley of downtown London after all of its unusual residents you had encountered on your little afternoon detour. In reality, you not only wanted peace from the worries that had begun to weigh heavy on your mind for the third time that week, but also from the constant bombardment of attention Michael had been giving you all that morning.

" No, thank you" you quietly replied as you walked under the bridge, clutching your coat around you from the drop in temperature a gust of wind tunneling through the overpass sent your way.

" Bad luck not to..." she pouted, her comment making you come to a sudden stop. Fuck. With a broken mirror, and a black cat adamant on popping up out of nowhere on a regular basis, you were in need of some good fortune.

" Ta love " she said, polishing the penny you had given her on the sleeve of her woolen coat before quickly pocketing it as her eyes scanned the darkened tunnel suspiciously for any chancers that wished to steal what was now rightfully hers." Good things be heading your way me love, I can feel it!" she called out as she waved you off. Good things. She had best be bloody right, you thought to yourself as you looked down at the small lilac bundle of flowers in your hand, a heavy feeling of unease settling in your stomach as your eyes darted up to the empty path with a row of narrowboats lined up against the embankment. Ten-minute walk max. That's all it would take for you to get to the end and back into the welcome bustle of Small Heath's main street. Why on God's green earth did you pick this bleeding path? You thought to yourself as you started walking dangerously close to the edge when you suddenly heard the distinguishable sound of someone's heavy footsteps behind you.

" Shit" you mumbled under your breath closing your eyes, every part of you wishing you had accepted your colleagues' offer to join them in the Garrison before you slowly turned your head, squinting through the settled fog to see a man in the distance walking your way. " Shit, shit shit!" you cursed yourself as your unhurried steps turned into a brisk, panicked pace.

" Hey!" He shouted, his low voice barely audible through the thick smog as he started to jog after you, you in turn frantically matching his speed as your eyes darted between a passage way mere feet away on your right, and the barge beside you to your left. Ever attentive to your surroundings, or more specifically, anything above eye level, your careless proximity to the water's edge had you tumbling over an iron pilling just as a hand reached out and grabbed hold of your arm before you fell into the icy water and, ultimately, to your death.

" Woah...careful there sweetheart. A bit cold for a swim, eh?"

" Tommy..." You cried, falling into his arms, hiding your head in his coat as your grip tightened at the sight of the man who had been chasing after you distance closed in. Unbeknownst to you, as you buried your head in your savior's chest, the very man you had feared had already come to a stop at the gulley, placing what could have only been your scarf that dreadful gust of wind blew off you as you entered the bridge only five minutes ago on a bricked wall before heading off, something you had yet to realise in your jittery state.

"Y/N? What's going on, eh?" Tommy said, holding you in front of him, the coolness from the leather of his gloved hand gently brushing a lone tear from your cheek." Hey...shhh, come on now" he hushed your sobs away, bringing you back into his strong arms as your cries overtook your mumbling attempts to explain what had you so frightened, the feeling of your body pressed firmly against his own sending a ripple of pleasure under his skin.

" I... I thought he was... Ethel and Betsy, they told me about this man..."

"Ethel and Betsy, eh?" Tommy cut you off with a chuckle as he held you firmly by your arms. " If they told me the sky was blue on a clear summer's day, I wouldn't believe them. Two of the biggest gossipers in the whole of Birmingham, no doubt told you a bunch of fibs, hm?" He said, his own little white lie leaving his lips so naturally, so calculated as you nodded your head in response looking down at the small bouquet in your hand. " Lucky Heather..." Tommy said with a playful smile as his fingers softly brushed over your hand, taking the good luck charm from you. " Not Superstitious are you Y/N?" Tommy questioned cocking a brow, twirling the stems of the flowers between his fingers before handing them back to you.

" Lately...yes" you exhaled as Tommy rested his hand on your lower back, gently gesturing you to walk with him.

" Lately eh?" Tommy said looking down at you as you met his playful stare with a smile. "Seems we've made quite the impression on you here in Small Heath Miss Y/L/N if you're stocking up on lucky posy's already hm?" He chuckled fishing in his pockets for a cigarette. His preferred Sweet Afton's, conveniently no longer his tobacco of choice.

" It's me, I'm just...getting used to it here" you said, reassuring yourself as you pushed your nagging worries away for the umpteenth time that day. " I thought you'd be at the Garrison?" You said changing the subject as you and Tommy came to a stop at the end of the path. Always so curious. Tommy thought to himself, a subtle laugh caught in his throat leaving his lips as he brushed his hand down his mouth.

" I like to come down here, to catch some quiet. Have a boat down here I check up on. "The January" he said coming to a stop, the exhale of smoke from his tobacco following the curves of your body as Tommy looked you over, measuring what it was you were really asking whilst your lips curved into a smile as you looked up at him through your dark lashes. Did you look at every man that way, or was your bashful innocence only his to enjoy? Tommy thought to himself, when his next words suddenly caught his calculated demeanor off guard. " There are plenty of quieter places in Birmingham, could take you there if you'd like. This evening?" He said waiting for your response, his fingers subtly pressing into your back at your unexpected lapse in reaction. Rejection was something Tommy had yet to experience, and in his hearts attempt to do something his mind would never contemplate, he was about to get a lesson in the very thing his dashing charm had evaded him from ever encountering.

" Oh...Perhaps, perhaps another time Tommy" you said, taken aback by his unexpected offer. He was your boss, and as much as he was both devilishly handsome and dazzlingly alluring, you had promised him to keep things professional, assuming that meant being with him too. You thought to yourself sending him a small smile before slowly walking ahead, your arms crossed in front of you as you mentally scolded yourself for refusing his offer. He had been nothing but gentlemanly to you. Had he not?

It had been an hour since you and Tommy had arrived at the Garrison to join the others for the drinks you had originally turned down, and an hour since your close encounter with what you believed to be the man that had been both watching, and following you since your arrival in Small Heath.

"Whisky or Gin?" Ada asked taking your glass as you nodded your head to the bottle of London Dry on the table that Tommy was sat across from, watching you, deciphering your every movement as a cloud of tobacco smoke from his lips briefly haltered the piercing stare he had been giving you since you both arrived. You hadn't lied to him, had you? Keeping a secret boyfriend he didn't know about? Now that would be naughty. Tommy thought to himself as he stubbed out his cigarette, determined to find out why you refused his offer down at the docks, his bitter jealously at the thought of any man being with you accept him making his usually stoic demeanor unnervingly menacing.

" Where have you been? Michael?" Polly asked as her son entered the snug, the bottom of his beige coat damp from the dewy mud-ridden cobblestones Small Heath seemed to permanently possess.

"Leave it mum" Michael responded sharply as he quickly poured himself a whisky, looking at you above the glass. What did have him so late? You thought to yourself as you looked down at the cuffs of his muddied trousers, splattered with soil like your own stockings from your frightening impromptu run along the embankment.

"That'll be my fault, Aunt Pol" Tommy said lighting another cigarette, tossing the box of matches on the chair next to him his cousin was about to sit on, the tension between the two family members heightening with each passing second." Sent Michael here on a little errand for me. Went for a run as well, I see..." Tommy said raising his brow as he looked down at his cousin's grubby dress shoes." Does anybody smell, shit?...Michael?" Tommy lent forward his nose turning up in his cousin's direction as he furrowed his brow in disgust before falling back into his chair taking a drag of cigarette as an amused laugh left his lips, Arthur and John quickly following suit at the blatant dig to the unwelcome newest member to the family.

" Fuck off Tommy. Get a delivery boy next time" Michael huffed, pushing through the crowded space with an irritated pout on his face as he made his way to the empty seat next to you.

"Alright, enough you two" Polly reprimanded them both, undoubtedly trying to diffuse the animosity they felt for one another and the sinister threats Tommy had made the previous day she knew he was capable of executing.

" You alright Y/N?" Michael said, turning to face you as you found yourself putting as much space as possible between you both, now practically sitting in Adas' lap. Why wouldn't he leave you alone? You thought to yourself, feeling increasingly uneasy with his continued attention aimed solely at you at any given moment he could steal. " I was wondering, maybe you and I could, could go out somewhere this weekend?" He said quietly, but not quiet enough as the snugs chatter suddenly diffused at the perfect moment, and everyone's heads snapped to the both of you, their ears pricking up at Michaels' offer.

" Think we've found your secret admirer Y/N" Betsy hiccuped with a giggle, her third glass of gin dulling her usually sensible attitude.

"Give it a rest Betsy" Michael said slouching back into his seat as your nervous fumbling with the hem of your dress caught Ada's attention, her hand coming to rest over your jittery fingers in reassurance.

"Whatever's the matter?" She said quietly turning to face you before sending Tommy a look of concern as the chatter of the room resumed and Michael was left there waiting for your response.

" I'm fine, honest. Too much gin" you said as Ada's brow furrowed, suspicious of her cousin's overly eager display and the clear discomfort it was causing you as you looked up to Tommy who was also waiting on your response to his cousin.

" How about it then?" Michael said, putting his arm around the back of your chair as Tommy's eyes narrowed in, his jaw tightening. Touch her, I dare you. Tommy seethed to himself, Michael's next move sealing his fate if he was willing to take the risk.

" Go on Y/N, go 'av some fun. Even if it is with bloody Michael" Arthur said belching into his drink giggling, so drunk he was seconds away from falling face down onto the hard wooden table as Polly sent her eldest nephew a formidable stare. "Sorry Polly, but..." he said gesturing his hands out laughing as he looked to Tommy who was unable to hold back his own laugh and the scoff hidden within it.

" Ok. I guess..." you said reluctantly, feeling forced to give into his request as Michael's satisfied smirk widened in accomplishment as he looked over to Tommy. Michael's juvenile attempts to get under his cousin's skin going completely ignored by the notorious gangster, whose glare and anger was now aimed directly at you, unforgivably, straight at...you. Tommy's amused smile that graced his face mere minutes ago had fallen into a stare even the Grim Reaper himself would recoil from, his eyes darkening with each burn of the ash forming at the end of his cigarette loosely resting between his fingers as his face kept still and indecipherable from the enragement bubbling furiously like the pits of hell under his skin.

Oh sweetheart, now why did you go and do that?

Next part coming soon!

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