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pathologicalreid · 3 months

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hello my new favorite tumblr writer 😇 i will b honest i have never requested anything before so!! bear with me. however the spencer reid brainrot is all too real SO would you be open to doing anything with a hotchner!fem!reader? bau or not for the reader! something something hotch is very hesitant about their relationship but maybe reader gets caught in the crossfire of something and hotch and prentiss see them together afterward and prentiss is like “that looks pretty real to me.” DOES THAT MAKE ANY SENSE OKAY I’M LEAVING NOW THANK YOUUUU 🫡

a father's daughter | S.R.

in which your father doesn't approve of your relationship, but who knows how he'll react when reid jumps into action after a threat against your life

who? spencer reid x hotchner!fem!bau!reader category: angst content warnings: general cm violence, blood, stitches, hospitals, medical inaccuracy word count: 2.03k a/n: anon you are legendary. this is an incredible request and i am so honored to be your new favorite tumblr writer! i am an absolute sucker for anything hotchner!reader (or rossi!reader) so i absolutely ate this request up! (also if anyone wanted to drop a request in my inbox... it would be welcome)

Aaron Hotchner was the most professional person in the BAU, except when it came to you. You, like him, had gone to law school. You were a public defender for just a short time before being put into WITSEC, and when your mother died, you applied to the FBI Academy.

Plain and short, it was nepotism, but no one was going to argue with the man whose wife was murdered by a serial killer. Your dad wanted you in the BAU so he could keep an eye on you, and there was nothing Erin Strauss could do about it. What your father couldn’t control, was your relationship with Reid.

He could tell you that he didn’t approve, but so long as David Rossi, king of inter-bureau mingling, was around, he couldn’t actually do anything to stop you. “I’m just saying that I’ve never seen Reid be consistent with a relationship,” your dad said, having pulled you away from the team to, once again, try to warn you off of your relationship.

“He’s been pretty consistent for the last seven months,” you responded, rifling through the victims' files that were in your arms.

You started to make your way out of the empty office when your father spoke again, “And he’s too old for you.”

Stopping in your tracks, you pivoted and faced your father, “He’s three years older than I am, I’m twenty-six. That’s hardly an age gap to bat an eye at.” The two of you had always had a rocky relationship, he missed a large portion of your childhood due to this job and you always tried to not resent him for it.

Your parents’ marriage fell apart, neither of them handled it well, and you weren’t all that surprised. They had gotten married when your mom got pregnant with you because they thought that was what they were supposed to do, and when Jack couldn’t keep them together, everything fell apart.

“You have no right to lecture me on relationships, Agent Hotchner,” you snapped, staring him down. Daring him to challenge you.

He sighed, obviously trying not to lose his patience with you. “I’d just hate for you to find out you wasted your time on something that wasn’t real.”

The door behind you swung open, you spun on your heels to face Emily. “Sorry, uh, we have a location, Morgan’s coordinating with SWAT,” she said, looking between you and your father.

“Great, let’s go,” your father said, his parental demeanor falling away as his Unit Chief mask took its place.

You walked out the door to see the rest of the team, Rossi tossed you a Kevlar vest as you walked over to where Spencer was standing with the police chief, “Where are we headed?” You asked, undoing the Velcro on the vest and pulling it over your torso. The beige precinct was buzzing as agents and officers prepared to break into the UnSub’s home base. Hopefully to find his most recent victim still alive.

Reid reached over and adjusted the strap of your vest, making sure it was evenly tightened over your shoulders. “Garcia found a warehouse on the other side of town. It’s being rented out under an anagram of the first victim’s name,” he said, gently squeezing your arm before dropping his hands back to his side.

Nodding, you followed the rest of the team out the metal doors of the precinct and into the black SUVs. “Your UnSub’s name is Jonas Watts, he used a different name to rent the space but the account he uses to pay for it is under his name,” Garcia’s voice rang through the speaker as she told you about the perpetrator. “He checks every UnSub box we have, raised by a single father after his mother left, and… oh, multiple arrests for assault.”

You looked up to the driver’s seat, your dad was white-knuckling the steering wheel, entirely focused on driving as you listened to Garcia reciting the UnSub’s rap sheet.

When you arrived at the warehouse SWAT was already there and Morgan started organizing the tactical assault. Drawing your weapon, you nodded at your teammate when he instructed you to go around the back with himself and your father. Allowing Morgan to kick the door down, the three of you held your firearms up and began clearing the warehouse.

Further away, you heard Emily and Spencer clearing the front. “Clear, moving up,” you called into your radio as you approached the stairs, stepping on them carefully so they didn’t creak. On the landing, you looked at a trail of blood on the ground. “There’s a blood trail in the upper west wing,” you whispered.

“Move up, little Hotch, I’m right behind you,” Morgan responded.

Rolling your eyes at the nickname, one that you had begged him to stop using, you moved forward, keeping your firearm aimed right in front of you. Turning into the room that the blood trail led to, you immediately ducked when you saw a knife coming for you. Keeping your gun aimed, you faced down the UnSub, “Jonas Watts, FBI!” You announced yourself, scanning the room for the girl he took last night.

Watts shook his head, “You’re not supposed to be here! You can’t be here!” He shouted in distress.

“Where’s the girl, Jonas? Where did you take Isobel?” You asked him, not seeing her in the room the two of you were in. There was another entrance on the left of him.

He stepped toward you, and you cocked your gun, “I don’t have her now. I lost her, she’s lost,” he said, there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Unnerved, you decided to take a leap of faith, “Jonas, where’s your partner?” A partner hadn’t been part of the profile, but the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. The crimes were too complex, it didn’t match up with something as simple as using an anagram of a victim’s name for the warehouse rental.

Morgan filed in behind you, aiming his gun at Jonas, same as you. “Time’s running out, Jonas. If you tell us about your partner we can help you,” he said, slowly inching toward Watts.

“It’s too late,” Jonas wailed.

Someone knocked into you from behind, causing you to stumble forward before you were pulled to your feet. One arm was locked around your torso, and another was holding a knife to your throat. “If you don’t leave now, I’ll cut her fucking throat!” The unnamed man said from behind you, he was almost impossibly tall, easily overpowering you.

You didn’t dare move, not with that knife to your throat, one false move and you’d bleed out. Morgan shouted for him to let you go, but he just pressed the knife tighter to your neck, splitting the skin.

Shutting your eyes, you tried not to cry, fearing the damage it would do to your throat.

Your captor held you tightly to him, using your body to block Morgan from shooting. Something warm trickled down your collarbone, and you weren’t sure if it was blood or tears.

For a moment, you thought you could swing your foot back into his knee, but the fear of having your carotid cut outweighed your bravery.

Ever since you were a kid, you thought death would be quiet. Something you slipped into like sleep, but your death was loud, and it left your ears ringing.

The afterlife was the weirdest place you’ve ever been, someone was calling your name, and you heard your rights being read. Although, why you would need your Miranda Rights in the afterlife you had no idea.

“Angel, please open your eyes,” someone said.

Confused, you opened your eyes and saw familiar eyes staring down at you. Golden and bleary. Spencer, Spencer was here. You tried to sit up, but he held you down, keeping a hand on your throat.

Morgan was shouting for medical, saying there was an agent down. You turned your head to see the still unidentified UnSub on the ground, shot through the temple. Using his free hand to turn your chin, “Don’t look,” Spencer whispered. “You’re okay, I’ve got you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, angel.”

If you weren’t still coming down from an adrenaline high, you might’ve smiled at the irony of the nickname. Being called ‘angel’ after having your neck cut felt like tempting fate.

Where was your dad? Of everyone here, you expected him to be here, barking orders at people.

As if summoned by your thoughts, your dad appeared, nearly hauling an EMT behind him, “Help her,” he said.

Yeah, that absolutely tracked.

The EMT’s packed your wound and assured everyone that your carotid had not been slit, against your protests, the ambulance brought you to the hospital for stitches. Emily had run to the hotel to get your go bag, allowing you to change out of your bloodied clothes.

Thankfully, the doctors said you didn’t need to stay overnight, meaning you and the team got to go home. “How are you feeling?” Spencer asked while you were waiting to board the jet.

You hummed, pulling your sunglasses over your eyes, and leaning against a car, “Tired, but I’m alright.” Tired might have been underselling it, you felt like all of the energy had been physically drained from your body. “You worry too much,” you whispered, closing your eyes for just a moment. Your throat was a little raspy, but it should go back to normal after a couple of days.

“Your throat was cut about four hours ago, some might say I’m not worrying enough,” he responded, reaching down, and picking up your bag, carrying it over to the jet once they got the okay to board. On the jet, he gestured to the seat, “Lay down, get some rest.”

You furrowed your brows, “Isn’t it kind of frowned upon to take up a whole seat?” You asked, of course, sometimes it happened, but you didn’t want to take up too much space.

Spencer cocked his head at you, “I don’t think anyone is going to fight you on it, love.”

Taking a deep breath, you sat down on the seat, laying down and closing your eyes, falling asleep before you even left the tarmac.

Being the Unit Chief had its perks, surely, but the piles of paperwork sometimes felt never-ending. Aaron took a deep breath before he closed the file, Rossi sat across from him, nursing a glass of whiskey.

“Hey,” Prentiss whispered, taking the seat next to him and setting her glass of water down on the small table. “Do you see that?” She said, gesturing with her head toward where you were lying down, asleep.

Right next to you was Reid, who usually had his nose buried in a book at this point in a flight, but he was wide awake, and all of his focus seemed to be on you. Begrudgingly, Hotch watched as Spencer reached over and tucked a blanket around you as if he was afraid you’d freeze on the temperature-controlled jet. “What about it?” Hotch asked, reaching over for the next file.

His eyes flicked up again, Spencer was sitting on the floor of the jet. Everyone had elected to leave the couch seats for the two of you, but the one across the aisle from you was empty. Like Reid didn’t even want you to be any more than one foot away from him.

Leaning back in the chair, Emily shook her head, “That’s what we in the business call hypervigilance.”

Hotch didn’t respond, he just spared another glance over at the two of you. “’We in the business’?” He inquired, humoring Prentiss.

“I’m just saying… the hovering? The blanket? I don’t know about you, but that looks pretty real to me,” she said, leaning back in the leather seat.

Silently, he glared, it would seem his hopes of getting the team to stop eavesdropping on familial conversations were quashed.

“Just let the kids be, Aaron,” Rossi said, grinning into his glass.

He cleared his throat and flipped open the new file before he acquiesced, “Fine, for now.”

please reblog, like, and/or comment if you enjoyed 🩵

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #margot's asks #written by margot #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds angst

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catsgut · 6 months

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FROM BUD TO BLOOM - GOJO

warning : incest, drugging, noncon

“we know you just turned 18, but we were your age once, you know. even if it was years and years ago,” you rolled your eyes and groaned, falling onto the couch. “we just know how kids your age think,” your dad said backing your mom up. they were leaving for a week for work and just broke the news to you that you wouldn’t be staying at your house alone. part of you could understand where they were coming from, but you had just turned 18. it was bullshit they didn’t trust you enough to not throw a party.

but somehow, someway, they trusted your immature and spontaneous uncle to hold the fort down while they were gone. you weren’t really close with uncle satoru, so it didn’t bother you any that he would be there, it was the lack of trust your parents had for you. it was almost insulting.

a loud knock on the thick wood of your front door brought you out of your thoughts. speak of the devil. “toru!” your dads voice boomed at the sight of his older brother, arms wrapping around his shoulders to pat on his back. “hey,” you heard a smooth voice follow before the sound of shoes on the floor. “good to see you again,” gojo said to your mom with a bow and his signature smile. you sat up and peered over at the three older adults in the entrance hall, looking over the man you rarely ever saw. you were surprised he even answered to the text your dad shot him about the favor they had needed. gojo’s predatory eyes wandered over to where you were sitting on the couch and smirked.

“hello, angel,” he spoke eyeing every inch you down as if he could see what you were thinking. “your babysitter has arrived!” his long legs brought him to stand over you, head leaning forward to get a good look at your face. it had been so long since he had seen his pretty little niece. you sighed, closing your eyes you laid back down ignoring the annoying comment, still feeling hurt by the lack of trust your parents had for you. “aw not happy to see your uncle, little girl?” he chuckled and looked back over to your parents. “you nothing to fear! i’ll make sure everything goes… smoothly.” they just nervously looked at one another before putting their bags in the car.

they said their goodbyes and you hugged your mom tight. “it’s not too late to tell him to leave,” you mumbled into her shoulder before she flicked your forehead. “nonsense. now be good for satoru,” she said before kissing your cheek. “we will be back in a week.”

honestly, the first few days went by fine. you hadn’t spoke to gojo much and just hid up in your bedroom playing computer games. he actually wasn’t so bad, usually watching tv, cooking something, or laying out by the pool. the one thing you did notice about uncle satoru was that he liked the ac on full blast. colder than what your parents usually keep it at. several times he has pointed out your clearly hard nipples through the thin fabric of your pajama shirt. “you cold?” he’d ask with a grin and you crossed your arms over your chest furiously. it was embarrassing, but you assumed it was because he was just as immature as when you were a kid.

even though he kept the house at freezing temperatures, gojo absolutely loved to spent time outside. he would stay out there hours laying in the sun. a couple of times you had caught yourself staring out your bedroom window at the shirtless man laying on the pool chair. although he was in his 40s, you could tell he was still very active for his age. your eyes traced down his abdomen, taking in every detail of his defined body before looking back up to his face. to your absolute horror, he was already looking back at you with a sky smile. you quickly sat back down on your bed feeling your face get hot.

after that you avoided him as best as you could. he probably thought you were some kind of pervert, and you hated yourself for it. his own niece looking at his body in that manner. god, you needed to get ahold of yourself.

“hey.” you heard a voice in your ear from behind. it was the middle of the night and you were making yourself a snack. startled, you quickly turned around to be face to face with your uncle. “hmm, are you avoiding me, little girl?” he cocked his head to the side. you groaned at the nickname he had decided to give you. “i’m not little anymore,” you rolled your eyes and turned your back to him, hiding your embarrassed face. why couldn’t he just leave you alone.

“that’s right! you’re 18 now… you feel any older?” gojo asked leaning against the counter next to you, arms crossing over his muscular chest. you shrugged and stared down at your hands. why was he talking to you so casually after what happened just hours earlier. “i remember when i was 18. had the girls alllll over me,”. he giggled and sighed as he reminisced. “of course, they still are.”

you stared over at him with a look of horror at his comment. “what? embarrassed? well don’t worry, i won’t tell if you won’t,” his big hand rubbed your shoulder before placing it on top of your head. “do you have a boyfriend, y/n?” you shook your head quickly feeling more and more uncomfortable. “never had one before.”

that seemed to get his attention because he raised an eyebrow. “never? wow… so you’re a virgin then right? damn, if i were your age i would have jumped at the chance.” you didn’t know how to answer that, almost feeling ashamed being called out for something that was probably weird for a girl your age. of course you were a virgin, never even having your first kiss.

gojo stared down onto you for what seemed like hours before leaning closer. “so what you’re saying is you aren’t really a woman…yet,” he harshly squeezed one of your cheeks before leaving you alone, standing there in shock. ‘was that normal for uncles to do?’ you thought. you tried to brush it off, hurrying up in the kitchen before running off to your bedroom for the night. did that really mean you weren’t a woman? is it really that obvious? it made you feel insecure and uncomfortable at the realization. little did you know, gojo couldn’t get the thought of his sweet little niece being a virgin. he felt like the luckiest man in the world.

on his third night over gojo had offered some alcohol after getting back from the store. he said it would be good for the both of you to drink and bond over a movie. not wanting to seem little, you accepted his offer, sipping on the mixed drink he gave you. it tasted fruity and made your face twist in disgust. did adults really drink this crap? you would never say it, but this was your first time having alcohol and so far you couldn’t say you were enjoying it.

but was it normal to feel this funny after a couple sips? ‘must be a lightweight,’ you thought, eyelids blinking almost in slow motion. alcohol felt weird… why was your body feeling heavier?

you looked over at your uncle who was watching tv a few feet from you. his long legs were spread and he was picking at a hangnail on his thumb, biting at it occasionally. you cocked your head to the side as you watched the man. you felt guilty at the fact your stomach was doing flips at the sight of him just existing. it wasn’t normal to have these thoughts about your uncle, but here you were thinking the nastiest things.

you watched his eyes flick over to where you were sitting, giggling to yourself with your legs crossed. “what’s so funny?” he sat up a bit and patted the spot next to him. “come sit by your uncle.” his long finger beckoned you over as you slowly crawled over to him, head running into the side of his shoulder from losing your balance. “woah there,” he laughed and wrapped an arm around you. “how you feelin’ kid?” his eyes stared at you already knowing the answer to his question.

truth is you could barley see at this point. “ish thisss… normal?” you mumbled, head rolling to the side. “just gave you a little something extra… to make ya feel good,” you heard him say under his breath before pushing your back against the couch. his words didn’t register in your brain, but you felt his big hands on your hips, massaging them. you felt his long fingers hook into your waist band, playing with it for a bit, before slowly pulling your pants down your thighs. everything was happening so fast yet so slow at the same time. “mmm what doinn’?” your question went unanswered as rubbed his pointer finger over your pussy, listening to the wet noises it made. you moaned and closed your eyes, lip being pulled in between your teeth.

he inserted his finger before a second and then a third. your body naturally reacted to the foreign feeling, back arching and hips lifted off the cushions of the couch. he chuckled and pushed on your lower stomach. you tried sitting up, but between whatever it was you had drank and your uncle pinning you down you were unable to do anything but lay there and take whatever he wanted to give.

“just stay right there pretty girl,” you barley heard him say, and after that everything went black. you didn’t know what was happening to you even if you tried to fight it, drifting off into sleep. the last thing you remember was hearing the sound of fabric rustling, not knowing it was gojo taking off his sweat pants.

“missed you,” you hugged your mother tightly, face burring into her neck. you really, really did.

after that movie night with uncle satoru, you had felt off. your lower body ached and your head was fuzzy. you chalked it up to lack of sleep, but something deep down told you it wasn’t…. you were missing something big that happened but you couldn’t remember for the life of you. maybe it was the fact you woke up in your bed in a different pair of clothes, or maybe it was the weird sticky mess in your panties. the whole situation was off.

“she’s been an angel all week,” he told your parents with a hand on your shoulder. your parents told gojo he was so generous and that they were so thankful for helping them out. he even offered to let you stay with him when you went to college! your parents were so very happy to hear that, telling you it would be an amazing experience. you knew they just wanted you out the house, but all you could do was smile, not knowing what to do or say, showing gojo he got away with his sins that took place that night. showing him that he would be able to get away with something far, far worse.

#SORRY FOR THE HORRIBLE ENDING #the past week was a lot #but i also had so much fun writing this hehe #tw.noncon #tw.incest #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader

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topguncortez · 7 months

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I Knew You Were Trouble || Whumptober Day 4 - J. Seresin & Shy!Wifey

Whumptober Masterlist || Whumptober Taglist Form

synopsis: things hadn't been great between the two of them for some time, but she never knew there was another woman involved

@ailesswhumptober prompt: betrayal

word count: 2.2k

warnings: infidelity, cheating, mentions of a miscarriage, unhleatiy coping mechanisms, grief, heartbreak

“I didn’t know he had a wife.”

From the moment that Y/N had met Jake, she had heard the whispers. The rumor mill was anything but quiet when it came to Jake Seresin. He was the hotshot aviator with a pretty smile and a reputation for leaving a trail of broken hearts wherever he went.

Y/N had taken a gamble when it came to Jake. She knew that Jake could basically have any woman or man that he looked at. No matter how many times Jake had said it, it took Y/N a long time to really believe that she was it for him. That she could be enough and more for him.

Y/N lost count of how many Navy balls she had gone to in the past seven years of being by Jake’s side. She could remember the very first one he had ever taken her to, the one where he had met her dad for the very first time. Jake had been so scared to meet the infamous James ‘Hercules’ Parker, but it was also the night that Jake realized he couldn’t live without Y/N. Now, seven years and three kids later, the Seresins walked into the banquet hall hand in hand.

But what was supposed to be a fun first night out since the birth of their third child, Eli, quickly turned sour when Y/N overheard what she was assuming was supposed to be a private conversation.

“Did you know Commander Seresin is married?” A woman asked her friend, her voice barely above a whisper but echoing in what they assumed was a vacant restroom. Y/N froze as she had just walked into the restroom and heard her husband’s last name. She pressed her back against the wall, craning her head to hear the conversation.

“Uh yeah,” Another female scoffed, “He’s only like obsessed with his wife. . . why?”

The first female, a blonde ensign who had just started her career as a TopGun cadet, froze. Her eyes turned red as she stared at her friend in the mirror. A look of horror and guilt was written on her face.

“I didn’t know he had a wife.”

The second female gasped, her eyes wide as she looked at her friend through the mirror, “How could you not know!?"

"I didn't know."

It was as if the air had been sucked right out of the room as the blonde started crying over her admission. Y/N felt bile rising in her throat as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. She placed a hand on her racing heart, walking backward until her back hit the restroom door. Spots clouded her vision as she turned and fumbled to get the door open, trying to escape as quickly as she could.

“I didn’t know he had a wife.”

The words felt like daggers to her chest, as her head started to swim. She wasn’t sure where she was going, or where her body was leading her. All she knew was that she needed air. She needed to get away from the crowd, from the stares. She felt as though all eyes were on her as she cut through the crowded ballroom towards the exit on the other side.

Did other people know? Of course, they had to know. Everyone knew everything when it came to Jake “Hangman” Seresin. Was that why a whole table of young lieutenants were staring at her? Mocking her? Laughing at her?

Those five words replayed over and over in her head, as her brain conjured up the worst images it could imagine. Her loving husband, and that gorgeous blonde woman with perfect tits and a perfect body. Y/N couldn’t but wonder; did he hold her the same way he holds her? Did he say the same things as her? Did he touch her the same way? Her throat felt like it was about to close as she nearly reached the exit. She pressed her hand against the door, feeling the rush of fresh air enter.

“Oh! There she is!”

Y/N felt a hand wrap around her arm, stopping her in her trance. The hand pulled her back, making the door shut and closing off her chance at escaping. Y/N looked away from the door to see her husband’s dazzling smile.

A smile that usually made her feel warm and safe, now made her feel nothing but red-hot anger, “Gentlemen, this is my beautiful wife, Y/N.”

Jake wrapped his arm around his wife’s waist, holding her close to him. Normally, the gesture made her feel calm. Although she had gained a lot of confidence in the past half-decade, she still had some insecurities. It made her nervous to meet new people, especially people who had the power to make or break her husband’s career. But standing next to him, after hearing the confession in the restroom, all Y/N wanted to do was cry. She wanted to push his arm off of her and run out the door. But she knew better than to do that. She had watched her mother for years play the doting wife to the Naval Admiral, and she had followed right in her footsteps.

Y/N rolled her shoulders back, taking a sip of air to push the nausea down, and put a bright smile on her face. She held her hand out and greeted the Admirals in front of her. She nodded her head and listened to them sing the praises of her husband. Jake does his usual bit where he tells them to stop flattering him, that they are making him blush, which gets a loud roar of laughter.

Y/N looked at her husband, who had his Old Hollywood movie star smile on his face. He was clad in his white full-dress uniform. Gold medals shined to perfection. The ribbon rack is put neatly and carefully together. Not a single piece of blonde hair was out of place. It made Y/N feel sick.

“Well, we’ll let you two enjoy the rest of your night,” One of the admirals said, giving you a wink, “Don’t get too crazy. . . We just got this one back from paternity leave.”

“Don’t have to worry about that happening again,” Y/N said quickly. Jake furrowed his brows and looked at her. She’s never said something like that before. Y/N gulped, glancing quickly down at her shoes before back up at the admiral, “It was nice meeting you.”

“You too,” The admiral nodded and walked away with the rest of them.

Jake was silent for a moment before he turned to face his wife, a concerned look on his face, “Are you alright-”

“She didn’t know you had a wife,” Y/N said, looking Jake right in the eye. Jake felt his heart pounding in his chest as he looked back at his wife. Y/N hated fighting, she had confrontations. Whenever they argued, it usually led to her breaking down in tears. But, there was not a single tear in her eye as she stared Jake down.

Jake opened and shut his jaw a couple of times. His head was swimming for the right words to say to her, but he was coming up with nothing. Instead, he placed his hand on the small of her back and led her towards the doors. Y/N silently agreed and followed him. Jake gathered Y/N’s coat and the keys to their car. The tension was thick between them as she slid the coat on her arms and followed Jake to the car.

The ride home was silent as their minds were running a mile a minute. Y/N’s eyes were trained on the world outside while Jake was white-knuckling the steering wheel. He was thinking how the hell she found out and Y/N was thinking how the hell this happened.

Sure, things hadn’t been perfect between them. Losing a baby affects even the strongest of couples. But they were Jake and Y/N. They got through things like this and came out stronger on the other end. They didn’t let little things like rumors and gossip ruin what they had.

But this was different. This wasn’t just rumors or gossip.

Y/N couldn’t help but let her mind wonder again. She closed her eyes tightly trying to will the images of her husband and another woman away from her brain but it was no use. She wondered if he thought about her. If he had thought of his vows. If he had taken his ring off. What had he said to that blonde to get her into bed? Jake was a charming man, Y/N could remember the first time they met and how giddy she had felt. She wondered if that woman felt the same thing.

“Stop the car,” Stop the car,” Y/N mumbled, holding her first to her mouth. The thoughts plaguing her mind made her feel sick to her stomach, “Pull over,” She sucked in a breath of air, trying to keep herself from gagging.

Jake looked over at her, “What?”

“Pull the damn car over!”

Jake complied, pulling off to the side of the road. Y/N hardly waited a beat once the car was in park, to throw the door open and get it out. She stumbled a couple of steps towards the back of the car, before bracing her hand on the side and vomiting up her dinner. Jake cursed as he put the hazards on and got out of the car. He quickly made his way to her, reaching to pull her hair back.

“Don’t touch me!” Y/N snapped, pushing his hand away from her. She took a couple of paces away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Tears were now streaming down her face as she stood on the shoulder of the road, “Why?” She turned to face Jake, “Why did you do it?”

“Sweetheart, please, let’s get back in the car and we can discuss at-”

“No!” Y/N yelled, “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to try and coerce me into dropping this and moving on. . . You cheated on me?”

Jake moved forward, but Y/N took the same distance back, “It meant nothing-”

Y/N laughed and shook her head, “That’s supposed to make me feel better? You having a meaningless hookup with some ensign is supposed to just magically make things alright? Cause it doesn’t, Jake. It doesn’t!”

“It was an accident! I didn’t mean for it-”

Y/N scoffed and rolled her eyes, “Your dick doesn’t just slip into someone on-”

“We lost a baby!” Jake yelled. Y/N snapped her head towards him, a bewildered expression on his face. Jake hardly ever mentioned the miscarriage that they had suffered before conceiving Eli. He had gotten a bit teary-eyed about it, but other than that, he had been the rock that the family needed during that time.

“What does that have to do-”

“You acted like it was no big deal. Y-You just brushed it off after a couple of weeks and wanted to start trying again. And then you got pregnant and it was like that baby never mattered. You didn’t seem to care when the rose bush in the backyard died. You just… you basically forgot.”

“I forgot?” Y/N whispered, “I? Me? The one who lost the baby. The one whose only job was to house and protect and grow the baby, forgot that I lost them?”

“I just-“

“That moment haunts me all the time,” Y/N clenched her jaw, “I hear that silence all the time and it’s so fucking loud.”

“Well,” Jake shifted on his feet, “Ya know what. . . I felt like you were using me! All you wanted to do was get pregnant right after we lost the baby! There was no love, there was no relationship.”

Y/N scoffed, “And that's your reasoning for cheating on me,” You shook your head, "You weren't the only one feeling the lack of love. You hardly touched me unless I was begging you to. You were pushing me away."

“I needed you and you weren’t-”

“And you don’t think that I needed you?” Y/N’s voice broke, “I was holding myself together with tape and glue while taking care of our children and mourning the loss of a baby I will never get to know, and grow another one. I was terrified! I was scared to move! To breathe! Every single appointment I was scared to go to! And you were too busy burying your cock into a twenty-something-year-old to notice!”

“You didn’t tell me!” Jake yelled back.

“I shouldn’t have to. I am your wife! And you are my husband. You should be loyal to me and only me. You should have confided in me about your feelings, but instead, you confided your dick into someone else.”

“It wasn’t even sex,” Jake mumbled.

Y/N burst out laughing. She ran her hands through her hair and tugged at the roots, “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

Jake just shrugged.

Y/N shook her head, and looked down at her feet, “I-I can’t do this tonight.” She brushed past Jake, getting into the car and settling back in her seat.

Jake let out a sigh, tilting his head back and looking up at the sky. He prayed for anything to come down and take him out, just so he didn’t have to look into the eyes of the woman he loved. The woman who he broke.

whumptober taglist: @els-marvelvsp @sarahsmi13s @topgun-imagines @xoxabs88xox @cassiemitchell @seitmai @a-reader-and-a-writer @bradleybeachbabe @kmc1989 @senawashere @beautifulandvoid @oldermenaremyreligion @ohtobeleah

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joelsmochi · 9 days

Text

honeypie - joel miller

summary: part 2 to honey (can be read as a standalone, doesn’t have much to do with the original plot!) warnings: not proofread, 18+, slight angst?, age gap (everyone is legal!!!!!), bickering/arguing, double date trope womp womp, degradation, dubcon, creampie, joel is a smidge misogynistic insecure and possessive wc: 2.6k a/n: this is mainly just some self indulgent yet rushed storytelling (so sorry, i wrote it in an hour because i was bored at work lol)! i wanna write a part 3 and actually include the beekeeping a little more but i have nooo idea how i’m gonna do it but we WILL get there one day babes!!! until then, enjoy this fluffy angsty sex 😽!!!💓

“If you guys are gonna bang when I’m in the house the least you could do is be quiet!” You heard Sarah shout from the other side of Joel’s bedroom door after banging on it.

Joel grimaced, his body tensing beneath you but you were almost oblivious to the complaints of your best friend. Almost.

You didn’t let up on your movements or noises whatsoever and as much as Joel loved those sweet little moans spewing from you as you humped against him, he loved his privacy much more especially when it came to his daughter.

You shook your head profusely when he attempted to get you to stop, insisting on how you were almost there.

“Soclosesoclosesoclose—just w-wait, I’m cu—fuck. Ahh, fuck, I’m cumming. Oh yes! Yesyesyesyesyes! Ohh—oh, my God—“

Joel covered your mouth with a clammy hand, feeling torn from his mixed feelings of lust and embarrassment.

Going downstairs didn’t help him feel any better either, especially when Sarah began berating you both, not that he blamed her for it.

“Call it payback for all the times I let you and your boyfriend have sex in my bed,” you retorted.

“In your bed?!” Joel mumbled to himself.

“Yeah yeah, could have at least waited until I was gone,” Sarah muttered.

“Sorry, Sar,” you hummed, “your dad is just really hot.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Come on, man.”

“I didn’t even know you were home,” Joel complained. “You’ve been with Jared or whatever his name is all week.”

Sarah’s squinted her eyes, annoyed by the lack of care from her father. “Alex. His name is Alex dad—see, I hate this!”

“Oh, by the way, Sarah,” you said, pattering behind the kitchen counter, “wouldn’t use the open jar of honey if I were you.”

“UGH! EW! Fucking ew!”

♡

“Other than the obvious,” Sarah mumbled, “how’s my dad taking care of you?”

You wore a bright smile and looked away from your reflection momentarily. Joel was… Joel. Rough around the edges but he was a genuine person, confident in the external reality but a little insecure. Not unbearably insecure though, just enough to make you know he was trying his best.

He wasn’t the most romantic but you figured it was just from him being out of the game for so long and you knew you could train him to be more romantic if it was needed.

He didn’t push you aside or make attempts to subtly suggest you needed to leave after sex either; he’d pout real big and give you those gorgeous puppy dog eyes until you held him. He loved making you laugh.

But it definitely still felt like just sex rather than a relationship. You weren’t particularly complaining, but you weren’t bragging about it either.

“Good,” you answered.

Sarah could tell from your tone how honest it was. Good meant great, happy, damn near perfect.

“Good. I’m glad,” she said. “I was worried he’d be like one of those incels that get real creepy and pervy after thirty-five.”

“No, no, he’s great,” you reiterated. “He’s very funny. Smart. He asks me to tan in my bikini while he’s working on the hive or the yard.”

You watched from the corner of your makeup coated eye how tightly she grimaced.

“Images. In head. Don’t want them there,” she dramatized.

“I have to hear every last detail about you and Al up to where he’s shoving your cervix into your stomach. You can deal with a little sexiness from us,” you said.

“It’s just so weird,” she whined.

“Do you want me to stop seeing him?” You asked.

You had slowly began to worry about how this would affect your best friend over time, you knew it was a weird situation. You had no issue cutting Joel off if it meant Sarah got to be happy. There were other men in the world, there weren’t other Sarah’s.

“No, God! No. It’s just not as simple as I was expecting. You know?” She explained kindly.

“Totally! I’d be weirded out if you were hooking up with my dad while I was across the hall. I’m not blaming you there, or anywhere for that matter. Just know you come first.”

“Well, yeah, who else is going to wax your back hair and not judge you for it?” She teased.

You rolled your eyes at her.

“Lots of men with weird fetishes.”

♡

“Can’t believe I agreed to this,” Joel huffed.

He adjusted the waistband of his jeans making his shoulder briefly flare. You let your mind wander while Joel complained about the double date you had arranged with Sarah and Alex. You were currently waiting in the parking lot for them to arrive.

“It’ll be fun. You’ll get to meet Alex and see he is a respectable man and you and I get to pretend we’re a couple for a few hours.”

“Pretend?” Joel questioned. “W-what do you mean pretend? Are we not together?”

“Uh, no?” You said.

Joel didn’t appreciate your amused reaction and questioned you a little more.

“You never asked me to be your girlfriend— you haven’t even taken me on a date,” you explained. “Did you really think that conversation wasn’t necessary?”

“So if we’re not together then what is this?”

You sucked your teeth before simply saying, “Sex.”

Once the four of you were inside Sarah and her boyfriend felt the tension between the two of you.

You watched Joel punch in all of your names into the keypad before pressing ‘start game’.

“So Alex, what do you do for work?” Joel asked.

“Oh, well right now I’m working at a café downtown, but I’m majoring in political science to become a lawyer.”

“A lawyer?” Joel sounded impressed.

“Lawyers are great at communicating,” you antagonized. “They know what questions are… Important to ask.”

Joel rolled his eyes and motioned between you and the bowling balls. “Just go. Good God.”

“Dad, what did you do?” Sarah asked.

“Why do you assume it’s my fault?” He defended.

“Girl, what did he do?” She asked you.

Shrugging, you said, “I don’t know. Since Joel thinks he’s so great at communicating, maybe he should answer. I’m gonna go bowl.”

“Hope you gutter!” Joel shouted after you walked away. “She told me I needed to ask her to be my girlfriend.”

“You thought she was your girlfriend?!” Sarah said with wide eyes.

“Well… Yeah? Do I really need to verbally ask her that?”

“That’s why I got a strike, bitch,” you said while slapping the back of Joel’s head.

Sarah and Alex awkwardly stood up so that he could pretend to teach Sarah how to bowl properly. But the bickering between you and Joel didn’t end there.

“I thought it was obvious,” Joel told you. “I have you over all the time. We fuck. We laugh. Did I really need to ask?”

“So what would have happened if I pissed you off and you were to say ‘it’s not like you’re my girlfriend’?”

“I do not sound like that!” Joel scoffed. “And I would never do that to you, you know that. I just kinda figured you were mine, you know?”

You squinted at his unearned possession over you, feigning offense and scoffing obnoxiously.

“Yours? I’m not your property, Joel. You don’t get to claim me.”

“Oh yeah? And what are you goin’ to do about it? Fuck some other loser?”

You grinned, and immediately he regretted his words.

“That’s exactly what I’ll do,” you whispered.

Alex and Sarah sat back down and you asked if they wanted anything to eat or drink before walking away to go to the bar.

“Hi, what can I get for ya?” The boy at the counter asked.

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen, why?”

“You see the older man on lane twelve?”

He looked and then nodded.

“Well, I wanna make jealous so if you could just smile and pretend to flirt with me I’ll give you ten bucks,” you explained with a sly smirk.

“Fifteen,” he negotiated.

“Ugh, fine. Can I get two lemonades, a beer, and a water please?”

“That’s not coming out of my tip, is it?” He questioned whilst punching the order into his screen.

“It will if you don’t start looking at my boobs,” you said through your faux smile.

You leaned onto the counter and gave the employee a clear view of your cleavage, which he seemed to appreciate very much.

But Joel wasn’t only focused on the teenage boy behind the counter, he noticed the numerous men gawking at your short shorts that showed off too much of your ass with you bent over the counter the way you were.

“Dad,” Sarah’s voice brought him back to reality. “Your turn.”

By the time Joel managed to spare you had returned with everyone’s drinks and Joel didn’t give you the satisfying reaction of jealousy like you’d hoped.

Wondering if you went too far, you drank a bit of Joel’s beer to imprint a lip gloss stain for Joel to taste in between sips. Something you noticed he loved to do over the past few weeks whenever he made you coffee or tea. You never finished your drinks and Joel always lined his mouth up with your lip print to taste you every chance he got.

And as you gave him the cheap plastic cup that held his beer, you watched as he habitually sipped right where your lips had been. Occasionally licking the rim of the cup before taking his next swig.

A couple of games later, you and Sarah managed to team up against the boys and kick their asses each and every frame. They sulked while you two gloated from the ending of the final game all the way back to the cars.

“Okay, okay. We get it, girls rule, boys lose,” Alex said.

“It’s boys drool,” Sarah corrected before turning to hug her father who placed a kiss on her forehead. “Night, dad. I’m gonna stay at Alex’s.”

“Okay, babygirl. Call me tomorrow.”

“Oh, and word of advice,” Sarah whispered after you got into Joel’s car. “Girls like what boys consider pointless communication. Take her out a few times, make her feel special, and ask her to be your girlfriend. She really likes you, she’s just making you earn it.”

Joel softly smiled and nodded. “Mmkay. Thanks.”

Once he got in the car he didn’t acknowledge you in the least bit, finally free to punish you for letting those men get a free show.

“Not a word?” You nudged his arm as he drove. “You could ask me now.”

He snickered, the most noise he’s made in the last ten minutes.

“You don’t get to just fucking claim me, Joel!”

Joel sped up before pulling into a rest area.

“Come’ere,” he hoarsely demanded.

He unclipped his seatbelt and began undoing his belt and jeans.

“Don’t get all fuckin’ shy on me now, girl. Come on.”

You hesitated but unbuckled your seatbelt and climbed into his lap; he moved his seat all the way back and pushed his jeans low enough for his cock to spring up and slap his belly.

Instinctively you reached for it, but he removed your hand from his hardening length and held your wrists tightly behind your back with one hand. Using his other hand to grab your face by your cheeks he forced you to look into his cold eyes.

“Do you not want to be with me?” His voice strained as he asked that, a hint of hurt glaring in his dark eyes.

“Of course I want to be with you,” you answered.

“I don’t play games,” he said, gripping your wrists even tighter. “Don’t fucking—“ A soft smack landed upon your cheek. “Don’t fucking do what you did tonight ever again. Get on your knees.”

He slightly shoved you back as he loosened his grip on your hands and face; you submissively sank to the rough carpeted floor of the car and he wasted no time pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail and shoving his fat dick into your wet mouth.

He tasted so fucking good, the mix of his clean flesh and salty precum like honey dripping onto your tongue. Your eyes rolled back and you moaned along his shaft as you eagerly bobbed your already hazy head up and down.

Joel’s hips rolled up in pleasure, gurgling out helpless moans as your nose rubbed the wiry hairs along the base of his shaft. Despite the aching and soreness, you loved having your throat full of Joel.

You took initiative and pushed against his hand, nonverbally telling him to make you suffer, and he shamelessly did so.

He couldn’t tell if the slick that was coating his balls was your spit or tears and he didn’t give a fuck. If you were going to show some loser teenager your tits and some loser bachelors your ass the least you could give him was some fucking remorse, right?

Joel felt powerful, in charge in ways he never experienced before. Your flooded eyes looked into his and saw how contorted his face was, so even if he was the one telling you what to do you knew you had him wrapped around your finger.

“Give me that fuckin’ throat, baby,” he moaned. “Oh, fuck! That throat is so fucking tight—mnh. God…damn baby. Feels so fucking good.”

He smacked your wet cheeks as encouragement before slowly pulling you off of his dick; you coughed at the gust of oxygen that flooded your lungs, giggling as he smacked his fat tip against your puffy mouth.

“Look at you, baby,” he whispered. “So pretty when my cock shuts that smart fuckin’ mouth a’yours up.”

“You love my fucking mouth,” you smugly said as you climbed into his lap.

“I do, but I think you forget what it’s supposed to be used for,” he whispered.

“You can stuff my mouth all you want, I’m still gonna give you a reason to use it.”

An eyebrow of his cocked up and a grin spread across his face at your confidence.

“Take your pants off,” he instructed seductively. His rough hands ran up your arms and back while you did what he said. “There you go,” he moaned when you slid down on his wet cock. “You’re such a good fucking slut for me, honey.”

“Just—just ask me, and I’ll s-say yes!” You shakily moaned as you relentlessly bounced on his dick.

Joel gripped your neck and began fucking into you from below, pushing deeper than he needed to, definitely bruising your cervix.

“You know you belong to me. All that fucking shit about claiming you and how I don’t own you, fuck was that?”

“Joe—elll, ugh!” You screamed into his chest, not sure if you were cumming or if your cunt was just overwhelmed with sensitivity. “Just ask, just ask baby I promise I’ll be good I’ll never misbehave again.”

He popped your ass and chuckled cruelly when you flinched and moaned. “Be my girlfriend, babydoll. Hmm? I want you to be my girl. You’re already my slut. Will you be my girl, babydoll?”

Your eyes gawked up at him and you couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged against your lips.

“Yes! Yes, yes, baby! Oh fuck, oh fuck!”

“Say it,” he begged. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours Joel! Fuckfuckyes I’m yours! I belong to you! I fucking belong to you!”

Joel felt the familiar deep stretch in the peak of his belly at your cries. He listened to you submit to him, let him claim you as his, ultimately marking his territory as he began to cum inside of your warm cunt.

“Thaaaat’s my good girl,” Joel growled as he fucked the last of his spend into you.

“Fuck,” you exhaled, climbing off of him. “You’re such an ass.”

He chuckled at this, the softness in his laughter coaxing a giggle from you.

“You love me,” he mumbled.

“Mmm, not quite,” you said as confidently as your tired body would allow.

“Oh, honeypie… You’ll get there soon enough.”

#pedro pascal #joel miller #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller tlou #beekeeper!joel #pedro

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inthe-dark-tonight · 8 months

Text

Falling into My Sins

chapter one: back in the alleyway

dbf!joel x fem!reader series- loosely inspired by the song skin by soccer mommy

chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5

summary: it’s your first night out since moving back with your dad after graduating college. while at the bar you meet an attractive mystery man and end up hitting it off. things get heated when you convince him to dance with you.

word count: 2.7k

series rating: E (18+ mdni)

warnings: no outbreak AU, age gap (reader is in their 20s, Joel is in his 40s) alcohol consumption, light swearing, slight dubious consent (things get heated while drunk), pet names (sweetheart, babe, etc.), no use of y/n, no physical description of reader.

notes: this is my first time really writing anything so i’m very nervous to post this , i've also been working on one other fic but i decided to post this first. thank you for taking the time to read and any feed back is welcome & appreciated xo <3

also thank you so much to @shatteredbaby for proof reading ily so much bby, and @pr0ximamidnight for also proof reading, letting me ramble like a maniac and helping me with ideas ilysm. i appreciate you both so so so much <3

It’s your first weekend going out since you’ve moved back home with your dad. You’ve just graduated from the Art institute of Chicago in the spring, but your lease wasn’t up on your apartment until August so you stayed near campus until then. Now that you’re back, some of your old friends from high school offered to take you out as a sort of welcome home. You’re just finishing getting ready when you get a text from your friend Aya.

We’re here!! Hurry up Dee is getting impatient!

You roll your eyes and smile. Typical. You’re a bit nervous since you haven’t seen them in about a year, but you’re sure once you’re out it will feel like you weren’t even gone. You throw on a jacket and run down the stairs, grabbing your keys as you go.

“I’m leaving!” You call out.

“Have fun bud!” Your dad shouts from the other room.

Your parents had recently divorced while you were away, so it’s just you and your dad now. You feel kinda bad leaving him alone when you just got back, but you’ll make up for it.

You close the front door behind you and run down your front porch towards Aya’s car. As you get closer, the passenger window rolls down.

“Ahhhhh you’re back!!!” Your friend, Dee, yells. You laugh at her reaction and open the back door to the car.

“Hey!” You slide in and buckle your seat belt.

Aya turns around with one hand still on the wheel. “Long time no see! Tonight’s gonna be fun,” she says with a smile.

“We’re taking shots as soon as we get there,” Dee says with a sly smile and you laugh, leaning back fully into the seat as Aya drives, heading for downtown.

As soon as the three of you find a bar, Dee keeps her promise and orders you all shots and they send you to find a booth while they wait for the order. There aren’t many people in the bar yet since it’s only nine, but it’s slowly filling up. You look around the place, taking in the large bar that runs across one wall with stools gathered around it and across from it is the booth seating you’ve sat in. There are a few high top tables scattered around the perimeter of the bar, a pool table to the right of the door next to the large dance floor in the center that’s currently empty, and the sounds of eighties and nineties rock hits filling the large room.

As you’re looking around, the door to the bar opens and two men walk in. The first man has long dark curly hair, a patchy beard, and he’s wearing dark jeans paired with a tan jacket and brown boots. The other man has shorter dark hair, a similarly patchy beard streaked with gray, and he’s wearing dark jeans paired with a green flannel and brown boots. He’s quite handsome, you think – broader than the first man, his frame stretching the fabric of the flannel to its limit. Your eyes flick back up to his face, taking in the curve of his nose, the crease between his brows and dark brown eyes. When your eyes meet, he’s looking right at you and you immediately glance away, embarrassed that he caught you checking him out. When you dare to look at him again, his gaze is still locked on you.

“Okay, let’s do this!” Dee says as the girls approach the table with a round of shots and a drink for each of you.

Your eyes snap away from the man’s and you smile at them, grabbing a shot glass.

“To celebrate your return home,” Dee says, raising her glass for you to toast against.

You tilt your head back letting the cold liquid slide down. You close your eyes and wince as the sour flavor with the aftertaste of vodka that burns your throat. When you open your eyes again you’re met with the stranger’s warm brown eyes on you still, a shy smile on his face before he turns towards the bar and leans on the wooden counter. You set the glass down on the table and look back to your friends.

The three of you sip on your drinks for about thirty minutes or so, talking about school and catching up on life. At some point while you were all catching up, the bar switched to playing early 2000s music as more people came in. You find your eyes wandering towards the gorgeous man every few minutes, admiring his side profile, the way his hand is wrapped around his beer bottle and his shirt is rolled up to expose his forearms.

You all finish your drinks and Aya is pulling you and Dee onto the dance floor. “Come on!! I love this song!!!”

You don’t recognize the song, but you follow them onto the floor dancing and smiling as they sing along. You find yourself looking towards the bar again hoping to catch the man’s eye, but he’s gone.

“I’ll be back, I’m going to get another drink.” You say loudly over the music.

The girls just nod and keep singing along. You make your way through the crowd that’s formed in the place and find the bar. Your eyes are still scanning, looking for him, when all of a sudden someone comes up beside you, leaning onto the bar. From the corner of your eye you can tell who it is. You turn your head and it’s the mystery man. He’s even more attractive up close, a dimple on his right cheek as he smiles down at you, slight creases next to his eyes. Your eyes travel down towards his broad shoulders and the skin on his chest that’s showing where his shirt is unbuttoned.

“Hi.” the man says while smiling down at you. His voice is like honey, deep with a southern drawl.

Your lips slightly part as you hesitate for a second “Hi.” you finally say back.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He nods towards the bar.

You shake your head in agreement.

“What are you havin’, sweetheart?” He asks.

You clear your throat. “Whatever you’re having.” You smile.

“Hm.” his lip quirks up as his eyes roam your form. The bartender comes over and he orders two beers, then his eyes are back on you. “You here with friends?”

“Yeah uh, I was out of town, I just got back so we’re celebrating.” You decide to keep it vague.

“Well,” the bartender comes back with your beers and he hands one to you. “Welcome back.” He smirks, then you both take a sip.

You can’t help but watch the way his hand wraps around the bottle as he brings it up to meet his lips. You take a few sips of your beer, eyes still locked on him, then place it back on the counter. You’re feeling a little more confident now.

“What about you,” you place your elbow on the table and rest your chin in your hand, looking up at him. “Who are you here with?”

He looks over his shoulder into the crowd, an amused look on his face. “My brother.” You follow his eyes to see his brother sitting in a booth with a girl, leaning into her as they talk.

You giggle then turn back to the man. You’re noticing some similar features now that you know they’re brothers.

“You two come here every weekend chatting up girls and buying them drinks?” You bite your cheek and give him a teasing look.

He nods his head slowly looking down at the bar where he’s leaning on his forearms and lets out a small laugh. “Every now n’ then.” He looks back at you, a slight flush on his cheeks.

“Mmm bit of a player huh?” You lift your brow, teasing him some more.

He’s laughing again, it’s a deep chested laugh that makes his shoulders slightly bounce. “Wouldn’t say that, haven’t had much luck recently.” He looks from your eyes to your lips, then back to your eyes.

You nod your head taking another swig of your beer “So, what do you do for a living?” You ask nonchalantly.

“Uh,” he rubs the back of his neck. “I’m a contractor.” that explains his broad shoulders.

You bite your thumb and lean a little closer to him, arm brushing up against his. The alcohol is definitely taking an effect now. You’re checking him out again, and it’s not subtle. The way his shirt fits snug around his biceps, and his jeans fit his waist just right. He takes another sip of his beer and your eyes lock again.

Then suddenly a song you recognize comes on, Promiscuous by Nelly Furtado. You hear your friends squealing on the dance floor as the song starts, causing you to whip your head towards them then back to the mystery man.

“I’ll be right back.” You smile at him sweetly, finishing off your beer and setting the empty bottle on the table before leaving to join your friends.

You get out to the floor and they hold their hands out towards you, smiling and singing along to the song. You’re swaying your hips to the beat, mouthing the lyrics as you dance. Your hands are moving up and down your body, over the tights you’re wearing and slightly bunching up the short slip dress you have on. You’re lost in the music, then suddenly your eyes lock with the mystery man’s again, darkening as they watch you move. He’s leaning up against the bar, beer in one hand and the other in his front pocket.

‘Promiscuous boy you already know

That I’m all yours, what you waiting for?’

You’re mouthing the words, eyes never leaving his. You tilt your head to the side and give him a cheeky smile before moving your hands over your hips again. He lifts his hand out of his pocket, beckoning you back to him with his pointer finger. You shake your head no, and mimic his motion telling him to come to you. You turn away from him, back towards your friends, then glance at him over your shoulder and mouth, “Dance with me.”

A few moments later you feel a large warm hand run down your arm, and the back of a hand runs over the nape of your neck and down your shoulder before resting on your hips. You turn your head to look and it’s your mystery man, looking down at you with desire in his eyes. You turn around, still in his grasp, and wrap your arms around his neck, bringing your body flush to his.

You’re swaying with his hands on your hips now, grinding up against him. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he leans his forehead against yours, taking in a deep breath. You tilt your head up, heavy lidded eyes scanning his face and your nose bumping his, your parted lips allowing a shared breath in the scant space between your mouths.

Then he’s kissing you, one hand on your hip lightly squeezing, the other resting on your cheek. He lets out a small groan and slips his tongue into your mouth, a mixture of mint and beer fill your senses. You gently pull the hair at the nape of his neck, causing him to let out a sigh.

“Sweetheart.” His voice sounds gravelly and deeper than before. “I can’t take my eyes off you.”

“Then don’t,” you say, so low it’s almost a whisper, just between the two of you.

You’re so close to him, you can feel his arousal straining against his pants as you press yourself against him.

“Come with me.” he looks down at you while trying to catch his breath.

He kisses you again, hand resting on your cheek. You nod approvingly as he pulls away. He doesn’t hesitate, grabbing you by the hand and dragging you off the dance floor towards the door. You notice his hand is much larger than yours, a little rough and calloused most likely from his job. He looks back at you a few times, and you just stare at his broad frame as you follow him. You look at the way his hair sits so perfectly, eyes wandering to his large forearms as he pulls you along behind him.

Moments later you two are outside and he’s pulling you around the side of the brick building. He backs you up against the wall, lips immediately crashing into yours. His palms rest on either side of your face, thumbs roughly caressing your cheeks like he just can’t get enough.

“You were killing me in there,” He’s towering over you, your hands clinging to his forearms.

“Was I? Couldn’t tell.” you smile slyly.

He laughs and shakes his head. “You’re somethin’ else babe, deadly.” he’s kissing you again, hands moving down your body to your waist.

You grab at the fabric of his shirt near his chest, trying desperately to pull him closer. His large hands find the hem of your dress and move up over your tights clad thighs. You moan into his mouth, heat already starting to build at your core. Moans and heavy breaths filling the air as you claw at his skin. You gently bite at his lower lip then slip your tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss. As you lower your hands towards the waist of his jeans, tucking your fingers into the front and pulling his hips flush against yours, you feel him shudder. You let out a whine as you feel the imprint of his straining cock once again.

Then you hear the door to the bar bursting open and two familiar voices talking. “It’s okay, it’s okay, shhhh.”

You freeze as your lips leave Joel’s, wide eyes meeting his before stepping away from him to peer around the corner. He lets out a groan as he adjusts himself, one hand still on your hip trailing behind you as you near the corner of the building. Then you see Aya with her arm around Dee, rubbing her back. You stand up straight, pulling away from Joel.

“Oh my god?! What happened?” You sprint over to them.

“Oh thank god, we were looking everywhere for you.” Aya looks up at you. “Dee had too much to drink, we need to go.” She loops her arm into Dee’s. “I grabbed your things, where were you?”

Then you see her eyes wander to the broad older man shuffling up behind you and her eyes go wide. She leans in close to you and mouths “Oh my god”. You can feel your face heating up as you turn around to face him.

“You ladies need a ride home?” He looks down at you, concerned look on his face.

“Oh uh.” You turn back to Aya.

“No, we've got it covered-” she smiles at him.

“But thank you,” it comes out louder than intended. “I appreciate it,” taking a step closer to him you whisper “And sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it, Killer.” He flashes a charming smile at you.

“Killer?” You laugh at the nickname and he nods his head.

“We gotta go!” Aya yells out to you.

You whip your head to look at her, then your eyes meet his again. “Well, it was nice meeting you, mystery man.” You give him one last look and go to turn around towards your friends. He gently grabs your shoulder, surprising you.

“Wait,” it comes out soft as he whips you around to face him again. “Can I at least have your number?”

You hesitate for a moment. “What, so you can add me to your roster?” You try to hold back a smile.

“C’mon.” he looks away shaking his head, a boyish smile plastered on his face.

“Give me your phone.” He looks back at you, relief in his eyes. Then he pulls it out of his pocket and hands it to you.

You type in your number and put your contact name as Killer. You hand him back his phone and quickly get on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. His eyes go slightly wide, and then you’re turning away, running towards the car before he can say anything. As you grab your jacket and purse from your friend and slip into the car, you smile at him before closing the door.

You watch him through the window standing there with his hands in his pockets as the car pulls away. Your mystery man, you hope to see him again.

ty for reading xo

tagging a few moots but np! anyone who wants to be tagged in the next one let me know :)

@nostalxgic @ilovepedro @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @beskarandblasters @jenispunk @tieronecrush @joelsversion @pedrospartner @canseethebrushstrokes @scrambledslut @isitmeulookin4 @tinygarbage <3

#dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel tlou #fic: falling into my sins #joel miller fanfiction

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cal-flakes · 10 months

Text

╰┈➤ getting caught with rafe

warnings: smut, a lot of swearing.

summary: y/n maybank gets caught with rafe cameron, by her brother.

“nobody’s home rafe, it’ll be fun!” y/n gleamed, dragging her reluctant boyfriend by the arm. branches and leaves crunched underneath their feet as the trampled through the cut. rafe cameron did not want to be walking through this side of the island, but after a minor spat about rafe having never been to his girlfriends house, he agreed.

“im not sure if you’re forgetting princess, but there’s a reason we’ve never gone to your house” rafe whispered, earning a cheeky smile from her. “shh, he’s not home, he’s out with pope..” y/n uttered, praying her boyfriend won’t bolt.

it wasn’t that rafe was scared, absolutely not. rafe cameron would never run from a pogue like jj maybank. he was nervous about y/n getting in trouble. y/n and rafe had been sneaking around with eachother for a little while, having shared a blunt at a party once, leading to a very long conversation about outer space.

still being dragged along, rafe observed the girl in front of him carefully, seeing how her hand fit just right in his, watching the skip in her step as she pulled him with her.

he was in awe, he adored her to no end, to the point it unnerved him. rafe cameron couldn’t have seen this coming from a mile away, the thought of falling so hard for someone scared him to death, nevermind falling for a pogue.

over the last few weeks they had a routine going, y/n would sneak out when she knew jj was asleep and walk fifteen minutes up the road where rafe’s car would wait for her. from there they’d drive back to his place, or when they were feeling it, drive to the beach and sit there all night.

because of her, rafe’s downright hatred for pogues had softened quite a bit. taking the time to understand why she lives the way she does, why she has to work two jobs, sometimes three just to make enough money for her and jj. y/n maybank had really opened his eyes, and he secretly loved it. he was amazed by her.

“see? nobody’s home” she stated, subconsciously taking the win as she peered through the open porch. no lights, no cars. she knew jj was somewhere with pope, and would most likely crash at john b’s place. “what about your dad?” rafe asked carefully, aware of the sensitive topic. shrugging, “he’s been gone for a while, don’t know where, doubt he’ll be back anytime soon” y/n sighed, her heart hurting slightly at the thought of luke abandoning her, thought she would never admit that.

pushing the door open, she ushered rafe through and turned the hallway light on. looking around, he took notice of the various holes along the walls, a few broken pictures lay on the ground underneath them. a strange pain in his chest caught him off guard, he couldn’t explain the feeling, but he knew why.

rafe picked up the pace and hastily followed after her before she could notice he was looking. “you hungry? we probably don’t have much but i’m sure i could make you a sandwich or something, if jj hasn’t eaten everything…” y/n fidgeted with her bracelets as she rambled anxiously, now regretting her decision to bring him here. the differences between their houses was ongoing and y/n was overly aware of it in the moment.

taking hold of her cheek, rafe shushed her with a soft kiss. “i’m not hungry angel, it’s okay” he muttered, stroking her head with his fingers. nodding, she grabbed his hand again, leading him through to her room.

heading through, rafe chuckled as y/n jumped onto her bed the moment they set foot in her room. y/n’s room wasn’t big, big enough for a double bed and some bookshelves. the walls were littered with framed pictures. rafe’s lips curled slightly, threatening a small smile as he looked over the baby picture of her and her brother, pictures of her and the pogues.

wracking his brain, rafe couldn’t think of anything that would make him change his mind about her brother and his friends, but her large smiles in the photographs were enough to make him see that they were a big part of her life.

creeping behind him, y/n wrapped her arms around his torso, leaning her head on his shoulder blade as he continued looking at the contents of her room. coming round to look with him, she pointed a finger at one of the photos. “this was in the marsh i think, we were fishing through the summer and jj pushed me off the boat, a scary moment for sure because god knows what’s down there, but it was fun” she spoke quietly, a toothy smile appearing.

rafe’s eyes trailed from the photograph back to her, sucking in a breath as he stared. “you are so fucking beautiful angel..” he muttered, almost breathless.

y/n turned to face him, beaming as he looked down at her. suddenly, she latched onto him, causing them to topple and land on the bed.

giggling, she leaned down as she straddles him, planting kisses all over his chiselled face. his ring clad fingers reached up to hold her cheeks, pulling her in for a deep kiss. not breaking the kiss, his hands wandering as ground her hips onto him.

y/n moaned into rafe’s mouth, feeling his cock harden beneath her. pulling away slowly, rafe flipped them both, pinning y/n down. a torrent of whimpers left her mouth as he trailed kisses down her neck, undoing her shorts as he did.

she gripped the sheets, lifting slightly for rafe to pull down the denim bottoms. pleasurable thoughts invaded her mind, wanting nothing more than release. looking up at her, he pressed light kisses to her inner thighs, the hot air from his breath making her jolt.

the cool metal rings on his fingers added nothing but pleasure as his thumb circles her clit at a painfully slow pace. “f-fuck, rafe..please” y/n whined, intertwining her fingers with his hair, pulling slightly.

groaning as she tugged, he pushed his fingers through her folds, earning yet another breathy moan. his pace quickened as his tongue took over from his thumb, sucking softly on her clit.

the burning coil in her stomach twisted tighter and she clenched around his fingers, an early sign that she was close.

“you gonna cum for me angel? can you do that for me?” he whispered, the vibrations from his mouth sent shockwaves through her. nodding, she threw her head back, not able to suppress the noises bubbling in her throat.

a loud gasp erupted from her lips as she heard a bang outside, pushing rafe’s head away. “oh my god” she muttered in fear. rafe’s head perked up, unsure of what was going on.

“quick, get under the blanket, jj’s back” she whispered, hearing her brothers taunting footsteps in the hallway. y/n covered rafe with the sheet the best she could, lying back, nervously thinking of a plan.

“yo y/n! you in?” jj called from outside her door. “fuck” she mumbled, “y-yeah, in my room!” she answered, half praying he’d take it and leave it. before god could consider granting her wish, her bedroom door swung open, jj’s boots clunking on the floor as he stepped inside.

his eyes narrowed at the sight before him, y/n laying in bed, the blanket bundled up around her lower half. “you okay? you sick?” her brother questioned, suspicion laced in his tone. “uh, y-yeah, yeah i’m not feeling great”

“okay, you cold or something? that’s a lot of blankets y/n” jj joked, taking a step forward to prod the sheets. “no don’t touch them! i finally got comfy!” she screamed, her heart beating almost out of her chest.

“hey man, im just making sure you got enough” his brows furrowed, making the final step towards the bed, laying a hand on the mound of blankets. for a second, time seemed to slow. her eyes widened as her brothers did. he knew, and she knew that he knew.

jumping backwards with such force, knocking the photograph of her in the marsh onto the floor. “that’s a fucking person y/n, that’s not a fucking sheet!” he shouted, not knowing what to think. before she could get a word in, jj had started on a verbal rampage.

“who the fuck is under there y/n? i swear to god i’ll blow his fucking brains out!” his arms flapped around as he spoke, his anger showing through his movements.

“for fucks sake jj! get out!” she screamed at him, gesturing violently for him to leave. shaking his head, he tapped the wall beside him as if to ground himself.

“no! get out of the bed y/n! get up!” an argument ensued as rafe stayed as still as possible. he’d have jumped up by now to argue with her brother also, but he didn’t want to make things worse for her.

after a bit of back and forth, jj, fed up, went to rip the sheets away from his sister. “no! jj don’t! i’m naked!” she shrieked, pausing all movement from her brother.

the look in his eyes scared her, he looked crazy, possibly even murderous if she really squinted. “i’m not leaving this house until i find out who’s in your fucking room y/n!” jj bellowed, slamming the door behind him. “you’ll have to come out at some point! might as well get it over with!”

chest heaving, she pulled the blanket off rafe, who just smirked up at her. “i told you this was a bad idea angel” he laughed quietly, enjoying the feeling of being right, once again. “it’s not funny rafe! he’s going to kill me!” she cried, worried about her brothers reaction when his eyes meet rafe’s. shaking his head, he pecked her thigh once more. “not as long as i’m here”

after helping her get dressed, rafe pressed a kiss to her forehead as she moved slowly to the door. the door vibrated as jj knocked on it. “i’m waiting y/n”

this was it. this was the moment her brother would finally snap.

opening the door slowly, y/n couldn’t meet her brothers gaze as his eyes travelled from his sister to the man in her room. for a moment he said nothing, almost hyperventilating as his blood boiled.

“rafe? you’re sleeping with rafe cameron?!” he shouted, causing his sister to jump at the sudden noise.

as if to anger him further, rafe stood tall behind y/n, hands on her waist as he stared her brother down, egging him on to make a move.

the bad blood between the two was incomprehensible, unfixable, unchanging. she could think of so many words to describe the mutual hatred between them.

jj shook in his place, seething. if his sister wasn’t standing right in front of him, he would’ve went for rafe by now.

“jj! stop! he’s not what you think!” y/n pleaded, desperate for him to understand. the taken aback look on his face said it all. “not what i think? not what i fucking think?! he’s dangerous y/n! you need to stay away from him!”

rafe stayed quiet, knowing how upset she would be if he made any advances. his fingers dig into her side as he listened to the insults spewing from her brothers mouth, struggling to keep his cool.

“no he’s not jj! he’s so sweet and kind to me! you wouldn’t get it!” she retorted, growing tired of brothers anger.

worried about what he might do, given the chance, jj stopped shouting. “you know what, I can’t even fucking look at you right now y/n”

before she could plead with him, he’d stormed out of the house, taking his forever packed bag with him, a sign he wasn’t returning that night.

“shh baby, i’ve got you, it’s okay” rafe cooed, pulling her into him, her tears staining his top.

part two <3

#rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron x reader #dom!rafe #rafe cameron #outer banks #obx #outerbanks rafe #rafecameron #rafe smut #rafe obx

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velvetmud · 10 months

Note

ok that pic u reblogged of the polaroid in the wallet -- reader slips a naughty pic into dbf!joel's wallet and he doesn't find it till he's buying a round of beers for you and your dad and nearly chokes. your dad is somewhere between teasing and admonishing "have you got a secret girlfriend?" and "maybe keep that a little more hidden, I know my kid's an adult but she does not need to know about my friend's sex life" all the while you're smirking and Joel's getting redder and redder

yes yes yes !!!based off this nsfw favorite 😵‍💫🥵

warning(s): 18+ themes, age difference, alcohol, spanking(mention), bj(mention), dbf joel (a personal fave)

Joel is laughing at some joke he knows he wouldn’t be laughing at if he were sober. Has to wipe the leftover foam on the corners of his lips from how eagerly he gulped down the last sip of beer waiting at the bottom of his glass.

It goes down his belly nicely—floods Joel with a subtle new sense of confidence from the buzz. Even though it still feels like there wasn’t enough alcohol in the world that’ll loosen him up enough to stare across their booth directly at the girl he’s been fucking every weekend for the past three months along with her own goddamn father, also known as his very own goddamn best friend.

Joel can one hundred percent comprehend how dirty, how sick it is to pursue her in the first place, and to let it get as far as it has. But at some point, he decides there’s no sense sinning only halfway.

If his best friend’s own baby girl, his pride and joy wants to spend her weekends bouncing in his bed and on his cock, then fuck yeah. So be it.

Whenever she gets down on her knees, she’ll suck him dry until he fucking weeps. Yeah. Grown ass man, getting his dick sucked for possibly the five hundredth time in the entirety of his life, but yet still finds himself acting this unstable, this erratic whenever she wets those lips he could kiss all night long, then mumbles something under her breath about how much she craves another taste. Making his libido uncharacteristically wild witnessing her frequent sex drives unravel. The depravity in every touch, every movement.

Like she wouldn’t breathe again unless her lips were wrapped around and sealed like a vacuum around his clothed growing bulge, clawing at his stubborn belt.

It’s gone as far as collecting a neat little album of Polaroids he himself has snapped of her. Whether she poses for him or is too blissfully lost in the moment, he’ll tease her with a taunt of ’say cheese’ before she’s hearing that click and blinks from the quick flash. Bites down her lower lip while he ripped the photograph out right when it printed. She’ll turn her head back and smile towards him with a wicked, devious grin that might as well say I know exactly what this does to you. What I’ve done to you.

His photo collection has grown since they started this arrangement. Half the photos consisted of him showing off the lewd aftermath while his cum oozed between her legs, or the stinging red handprints he’s left on the globes of her ass. Might even be one or two risky ones with their faces captured clear as day, kissing with passion after another round devouring her in his sheets.

Their album of dirty secrets always stays buried under his bed, locked up and secluded from the world. Only coming out from hiding whenever Joel felt like doing a little reminiscing of the times they’ve shared together late in bed at night. Ending him with sticky fingers, a guilty conscience, and his twitchy cock finally giving him a fucking break. It does things to him that no blue pill ever could.

There’s enough spank bank material and physical evidence of all his sins to grant him a one way ticket straight to hell, and Joel has accepted that.

No one else but her knew where the pictures were stored, nor of their mere existence. Each photograph was stashed together in some old vintage tin that looked like it could belong at a grandma’s home to store more innocent contents. Preferably not dirty Polaroid shots of every one of Joel’s fantasies he’s lived out inside his best friend’s daughter.

She was poison, disguised like a pretty piece of candy just dangling right in front of him. Pulls him in like he’s a golden retriever begging its owner on a goddamn leash.

Fuck, it’s time he really stop thinking about that.

He’d been doing a somewhat decent job these past few months so far. Keeping her out of his periphery whenever he spent some time quality guy time with her father in their home. All the while, images of her naked frame above him (on the nights he’d beg her to get on top) feel like they’ve been tattooed to part of his brain, and he nearly has to beg his dick to forget she even exists in the vicinity.

But after getting roped up in their family plans for this Saturday night (against his will), he won’t get to feel those nails drag down his back while she wails underneath him tonight. No—instead of that, he gets to guzzle down as much beer as his gut could handle in his forties to make it through the evening, sandwiched next to both of them at the same fucking time. Fuck.

“Next round’s on me,” Joel announced to the table, hoping the leftover self pity and humiliation will wither away with the more he drank. He gets up from their booth and idly pats the butt pocket of his jeans to feel for his wallet, oblivious as to why her face seems to light up all the sudden in the corner of his eye in some sort of amusement. Like she’s in on some joke that he sure as hell isn’t. Story of his life.

Her eyes dance across his figure, checking him out head to toe the way she does when they’re alone shedding each of their clothes off. How much it makes him long to punish her for doing all of this to him, making him strip down his pre-existing morals of being a good man and a decent friend just to pin her down and make her cum and take the bait.

She slides her empty glass over and simply says, “I’ll take another Cosmo.”

Her dad chimes in, hardly ungluing his eyes from the game glaring on the TV. “Get a side of some fries for us too, Miller. Don’t you know anything about wining and dining?”

Joel sighed and rolls his eyes, choosing to ignore the ridiculous level of irony hidden between the lines in his friend’s jab. Yeah actually, I do. It’s working out great on your daughter. She’ll probably invite herself back to my place tonight, if you aren’t too careful.

“Just come up and order yourselves, for Christ sake.”

The snickering from her dad doesn’t let up as they follow Joel up to the counter. On the way, she pokes him with her fingers in the middle of his back. Knowing there’s likely some scarring still engraved in his skin from her nails last weekend. He shivers just feeling her make even the smallest, shortest contact in public like this. Next to her father like this.

Joel knows his ass is on the line if God forbid they get caught. She had every ounce of power and freedom to turn him to mush at the drop of a goddamn hat, whether she was doing something as innocent and carefree as smiling or bending over.

“One Cosmo, two whiskey’s, neat, and a side of fries.”

He grabs his wallet and flips it open, sliding his ID out of the front pocket (even if he’s to the point of graying) and flashed it towards the bartender. He gives him his total, and before Joel can pay, the other shoe drops.

“Whoa whoa whoa, dude. Who’s the unlucky lady?” her dad laughs, all the sudden pointing downwards at Joel’s wallet in his hands.

His eyes travel down to whatever her dad was so flabbergasted by. It barely takes a split second long of a glance for him realize that he is so very fucked.

And as if he thinks Joel didn’t hear him the first time, didn’t just unknowingly traumatize himself by pointing at a photo of his own daughter’s back while she’s lying in Joel’s bed, and he goes and pesters him some more. “She some secret girlfriend, or what?”

The frog in his throat betrays him, choking on nothing but air while he’s riddled with utter humiliation as he stubbornly yanks his card out to hurry up and pay. Fumbles when he finally gets his receipt and quickly stashed it back. If only his pockets went deep enough.

He looks over at her, baffled by her mischeviously guilty silence, finding how much she’s amused by this, by the risk of being found out.

Joel goes for what he knows.

Deny, deny, deny.

Trying to scoff and laugh at the same time to make it more convincing, he stuffs his receipt in his pockets. “What? No. No, there’s no secret anything, Jesus….”

“What’s wrong, Joel? You feeling okay?“

Right when he thinks he has a sliver of control in the situation, the culprit looks at him with her shit eating grin, knowing he’s suffered at the hands of one of her master plans to get him fucked. Other than lifting her skirt up a little too high at family dinners once in a while, this has to be the most dangerous prank by far.

“Good. Great, actually. Looking forward to that drink.”

“I bet you are.”

Once they’ve been seated and served there’s a noticeably pregnant silence that Joel will overthink about and regret allowing it to have happen for his remaining lifetime.

Her dad attempts to fill the silence that he didn’t understand, luckily blind to any context of what the Polaroid actually was. And God forbid didn’t recognize the panties she owned and wore, or her distinguishable hair splayed out down her naked back.

He thinks he’s being quiet enough to block it out from his daughter’s ears when he whispers, “Look, man, you’re embarrassed. It’s private, I get it. For s’long as I’ve known you you’ve barely ever talked about women. S’just weird to see a naked chick in your wallet outta the blue, you know?”

He downs his whiskey right as it reaches their table, doesn’t let it sit untouched for even a second—as it warms his chest and tingles in his belly, he sees that not-so-innocent face smiling behind her glass.

“Uh-huh. Must be pretty weird.”

And for the cherry on top of all the mortification he’d experienced tonight, right when he thinks it’s come to an end, that he gets a goddamn break from the close calls—her dad opens his mouth to haunt him yet again.

“Maybe keep your little trophies a little more hidden next time. I know my kid’s an adult and all, but she does not need to know about my buddy’s sex life.”

thank you for the love and kindness and support:)it means more than you know

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#joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel x reader #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller #tlou fanfic #the last of us smut #dbf joel miller #joel miller/reader #ask #anon

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jarofstyles · 9 months

Text

Oh Baby, Baby! 4

It’s been a very long time but 🤭🤭🤭 here we go! Oh baby, part 4!

Check out our Patreon for early access and exclusive writing!

Warnings: pregnancy

WC: 3.6k

—-

Harry was absolutely insane.

Y/N was positive about that. She sat on the couch as she watched him bob about the kitchen, installing baby locks. Baby locks- and her bump was still little. Despite all of this, though, she found it stupidly attractive. His desire to be a dad, his dedication to the baby that was just a tiny little seed inside of her stomach, his already overprotective soul, it made her fall just a bit deeper.

The shift had been evident and obvious and neither of them had any awkwardness about it. It was no longer two best friends making a child- they were in it together. Harry was just as dedicated to Y/N as he was to their child. She had found that out relatively quickly. When they’d gone to the bar to meet up with their friends, Y/N and Harry both sipping on plain sodas as they caught up with people. He had gone to the bar to get her a bowl of cherries that she had been obviously craving since he had caught her looking at longingly in Sarah’s drink. He’d been approached by a very pretty girl that had her stomach twisting, seeing her place her hand on his arm which she had wanted to rip off violently. He had taken the slip of paper from her and nodded before heading back with the cherries he had paid a stupid amount for.

She had been quiet with his return, his heavy arm sloping around her shoulder like nothing had happened. He sunk back into his comfortable space, kissing the side of her head as she took one of the cherries to pop in her mouth. It felt bit hard to swallow when she did, the burning in her gut outweighing the sweetness of the cherry. Y/N hadn’t been able to hold back, turning to him after staying quiet for a bit.

“Are y’gonna go for it?” She asked,, trying to feign nonchalance. She had done a very poor job of it, though. Y/N was never one with believable poker faces. Harry could read her like a book.

“Who? Girl at the bar?” He asked with a quirked brow, shaking his head at her irritation when she nodded. Her slight pout and her irritated brows made him want to coo at her. She was so cute. “Why the hell would I do that when you’re right next to me? You’re the mother of my child. I dont need to look elsewhere. I adore you.” He turned her face, pinching her chin and pressing his lips to hers firmly for a chaste but loaded kiss. “Threw it in the trash on the way back. Told her I was an expecting father. Don’t need to go searching anywhere else.”

And that was that.

Now, doting dad and committed… boyfriend? Partner? Whatever their label was, he was exceedingly good at it. Phenomenal, really. He kept the fridge stocked with jars of the sweetened cherries and switched his cologne to a less spicy one because as much as she liked the other one, her pregnancy hormones absolutely could not stand it. He made sure to set up tea for her and get coffee if out because mournfully she was also sick whenever she smelled it. She was just hormonal and unhappy that someone else had hit on him.

Y/N had been grumpy lately. She didn’t mean to be, but with bouts of morning sickness and her breasts feeling a bit tender, a weird craving for fried chicken tenders with peanut butter, she felt irritated all the time. There wasn’t much anyone could do for that. That didn’t mean Harry deserved to be on the receiving end of her grumpiness, though. She felt a bit bad as she watched him walk back over to test out the locks, not seeming to be bothered by it visibly but… she knew he valued her a lot and the last thing she wanted was for him to think she was being mean in purpose.

Tears grew in her eyes, the sting making her even more upset. She kept fucking crying and she had been lucky to keep it from him this far, but it had only been a matter of time. A quiet sniffle was accompanied by rubbing over her eyes, not wanting tears to fall before she spoke. “I’m sorry, H.” She said, trying her best to keep her voice steady. Harry had quickly turned to look at her, concern etching over his features as he returned back to her side. “I shouldn’t have tried to start a fight. It’s not fair and you’re s-so lovely to me and I get scared you’re going to find someone who isn’t pregnant and whiny and eats weird things-“ she hiccuped, glassy eyes looking at his beautiful hands. It was hard to face him.

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Y/N was full of emotion lately but Harry had thought he made it clear that he wasn’t ever going to leave. “Sweet girl… hey.” He grabbed her chin with his thumb, tilting her head up to meet his eyes. “I’m not upset. I didn’t even know you had seen that. I’d never do that. I don’t want to. What I want is right here.” He moved to cup her cheek, wiping away a tear that had fallen down her cheek. Her stuttered breathing had him squatting in front of her, getting them eye level. This needed to be cleared up.

As much as he had been thorough in telling her that she was his, he hadn’t been proper in his declaration of need for her. “Look at me.” His instruction got her to look right at his eyes, a harsh swallow taken as she held her breath. “There is no one else. Maybe it’s my fault for not being clear, but I’m yours. Your partner in all of this, if you’ll have me.” Gentle strokes of the damp skin and the shaky breath exhaled as she took another second to absorb his words. “We made a sweet little baby inside of you, we’ve bonded but… m’not just here for the baby. I’m here for you. You’re what I want, and I’m sorry that I haven’t outright said it yet. I thought you knew how much I utterly adore you.” He got on his knees between her legs, still able to look at her face on as he brought her face towards him.

Delicately, he kissed over her skin. Feather light, soft and breezy, he kissed her forehead, her nose, her eyelids as she closed them to feel his affection. He was so serious about her that it grounded her a bit. Finally letting her body unclench, leaning her face into the pecks when he finished off with her lips. “I adore you too.” She mumbled back, holding on to his wrists. “I’m sorry. I- I kind of knew but we never spoke about it and when I saw you talking to her my mind panicked a little bit.” It was silly of her. Harry was right in saying he had made it clear she was his- her still slightly over sensitive cunt was proof of that alone- but the lack of clarification had gotten to her.

“Don’t need an apology from you. I know that if I saw a man talking to you, flirting… handing you his number? I’d be very annoyed. Not at you, but.. the idea. It pisses me off and probably wasn’t fun for you to watch.” He sighed, pulling back slightly to stare at her. “M’here for you and little baby inside of you. You both are my world. And I don’t want you questioning it again. Alright?” He squeezed her cheeks slightly with his hands, making her laugh through the last of her emotional tears.

“Got it.” She sniffed, welcoming the kiss he paired it with. “I- I still don’t think we need baby locks yet.”

“S’called being proactive, my darling.” He chuckled against her mouth. “Keep up.”

—————

Harry’s hand was threaded through hers as they left the appointment. Y/N was happy that as she was in her second trimester, but even more so, she was amused at her boyfriends antics.

He was diligent and doting on her, more than he had ever been before. The friend she had before had erupted from his cocoon, showing her a new side to him that she hadn’t anticipated. Protective, present, and so damn affectionate. He couldn’t keep his hands off of her. It wasn’t just sexually, either. The man always had his hand on her, lips pressing against some part of her body, fingers tangled with hers. It was very new, but very welcomed.

“So… soon they’ll be able to hear.” Harry mumbled as they walked towards the car. “So we’re going to have to play them some good music. Got to be careful what my child consumes because I will not have a kid with bad music taste.” He gave Y/N a look. “No radio for right now. I’ve got playlists, going to get the family plan for Spotify or something and then y’can use that.”

Y/N laughed under her breath, approaching his black SUV with a shake of the head. “Harry, I adore you, but please.” She gave him a look. “They’re going to be perfect. With a father like you, there’s no damn way our child isn’t going to know the ups and downs of rock n’ roll history.” Harry was quick to open up the passenger side door, holding on to her hand as he helped her get into the seat. “Besides, it’s mainly my heartbeat they’ll hear. They won’t start hearing a lot of external noise until the end of this trimester.” He had been on the baby websites.

“I know that. But we have to be safe, don’t we?” He was deadly serious, too. “We don’t know the exact time they’ll be able to hear it so…” he shrugged, making sure she was buckled before closing the door. Harry was already an active parent and Y/N couldn't fault him for that.

When he was in his seat and buckled, his hand moved the car into gear before finding its new favorite spot on her thigh. It still gave her little butterflies to feel him touch her so intimately, so casually. These adjustments had made her exceptionally happier in the last few weeks.

“What did you want for lunch, petal?” He asked softly, the music playing lowly after Harry adjusted the playlist. “Is it still chicken tenders? Or are you wanting something else?” The cravings had varied lately. Harry was never sure what exactly to get her so he waited for explicit instructions so they didn’t waste time or money.

“Can I have Taco Bell?” She asked, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. “Want one of the freeze things and.. maybe we get the taco box? With all the tacos so we can have it for later too?” Her stomach was growling, in desperate need of some food. “Want some of the chips and cheese too. Maybe 2. Your child is making me stupidly hungry.” The grumble made him laugh. It was very much his fault, and he wouldn’t change it.

“Course we can. Tomorrow I’m going to the grocery so I can get us some good food at home. Strawberries and greens for your smoothies.” While Harry was never one to dictate how she ate, he did encourage her to eat healthy when possible. He would cook for them since they’d basically moved in together, but Y/N was feeling too lazy to cook most of the time.

“Hm. Yeah, I think that’s good. I’d like some crisps and stuff to make dip… maybe some rice. I’ve been craving baby carrots with ranch a few times but we didn’t have it.” It hadn’t been so much that she would ask him to go out and get it. She was still able to go but Harry did like to take care of her so far. It had been a bit of an adjustment but she was learning to love it. “Y’know, you’re spoiling me. Going to make a monster out of me. I’m liking this ‘having Harry go to the shops’ thing.” Her grin was wide as she looked over to him in time to see him fondly roll his eyes.

“Well… I’m going to take care of you. You’re my girl, you’re carrying my baby. I’ve always liked spoiling you. Just didn’t do it as much because it would have been a bit weird.” He admitted. The sun was high in the sky and the clouds fluffy and white. The air was warm enough for them to have the windows down a bit as they drove, and Harry really felt like his heart was full. Just getting to experience this and spoil Y/N the way he had always had a weird itch to do? It was fulfilling a spot in his chest that had been vacant for a while.

“That’s good then. I like being spoiled so I think this could work out.”

—-

“Harry!”

The call of his name from across the house had him jolting, running from the kitchen where he had been preparing their meal, up the steps and down the hall to their bedroom. You never yelled for him like that. His brain had been on auto pilot, running over as fast as he could in his socks- dangerous- to find Y/N standing with wide eyes as their folded laundry sat in sorted piles on the bed.

Her hands were over her bump, visible in the cornflower blue dress that hung over her form. Her eyes were wide as she turned to look at him, mouth open as he approached. His hands immediately grabbed her face, looking her over. “What? What’s wrong?” He pressed. “Baby- y’cant yell for me like that and not tell me. Is there something wrong?”

“No! I don’t- I don’t think so?” She squeaked. “I felt them move! Like… s’not a kick or anything but it felt real this time! Not just the flutters. It’s like… squirming?” Her eyes were wide as she looked down at her belly, the shock of truly feeling their baby moving around inside of her taking her for a ride. “I didn’t mean to worry you but I just- I panicked and was excited. I’m sorry.” The woman hadn’t meant to worry him too much.

Harry felt himself melt in both relief and happiness at the clarification. His heart rate could finally slow down. Perching himself on the end of the bed, he was mindful of the laundry piles as he pulled her body in between his legs. “I’m not angry, Angel. Not in the slightest. You just scared me. Thought something was wrong. M’much happier with this result.” Hands moved from her hips to over her forming bump, stroking over it tenderly.

She had told him about flutters recently, how they’d made her excited- but this was a very new and exciting development. “I didn’t want you to miss out.” She peeped, looking down at him. “In case you could feel something. I know you love them a lot already and I didn’t want to keep the first couple times.”

Harry was in love. He knew that before, but her little moment now had solidified it even more. His lips pressed over the clothed belly, tilting his head up to look at her with his eyes full of fondness. “Thank you. I researched it and I don’t think I’ll be able to feel much until the end of this trimester, but I love that you wanted to tell me.” The moment had been more than enough for him. “What did it feel like to you, though? Tell me.” Holding her body to him and his chin against the bump, he listened intently.

“It was like… I don’t know exactly. They were squirming and bumped into the side of the wall? It’s hard to explain. It freaked me out at first.” A breathy left slightly moved his face as it rested on the belly. “Because I sometimes forget that there’s a real human in there growing. It’s incredible, isn’t it?” She placed her hands over his. “Like a little flower. Planted the seed and now the sprout is growing a flower.”

“Hm. Little sprout? I like that.” He turned to whisper into her belly. “Do you like that, Sprout? S’a cute little name your Mumma and I can call you. We’re going to find out if you’re a girl or boy later on but… it’s better than calling you ‘baby’, hm?” Harry more than liked that. “Can choose to be whatever you’d like, but think you’re going to be stuck with the Sprout nickname forever. S’already stuck. You’re going to be married with children and I’ll be calling you it.” He joked, rubbing her hips as he looked back up at Y/N.

She was so beautiful. Sometimes it struck him in the chest, like right now, how lucky he was to have been given her by chance. She had suggested this and they hadn’t anticipated this sort of thing happening, but it was the best thing to ever happen to him. She had that pregnancy glow, the beam of her smile. No more morning sickness and instead getting to enjoy her bump for a while. The leg cramps hurt a bit, but she and Harry worked on it with the massagers and vitamins. She was truly thriving, and he was elated.

“You’re so lucky, Sprout. Me and you. We get your Mumma, and she’s the most perfect woman. You will be grateful when you come out to meet her.” He felt her gentle hands stroke through his messy hair as he continued to speak. “Hope you’re nice to her the rest of the time you’re sprouting. She’s giving you some good genetics to work with here. M’gonna have the prettiest babies with her.”

“Babies?” Y/N rose a brow. “Who said we are having more than this one?” Her heart beat a bit faster as it did sink in. He meant it. He wanted the long haul. It was so exciting, so comforting to know. Harry reminded her often how how much he adored her, how he was proud to be hers, but that confirmation made it feel way more real.

“Well.. s’your body, so you. But I’d like to be the one who gives you more babies if you decide that I can.” He blinked up at her. “I’m more than okay with one, if that’s all you’d like. But… I would definitely like some more if that’s something you’d offer.” Obviously he would never pressure her into anything she didn’t want, but it was something he had been envisioning.

A full house. A dog or two. A set dining room table and sports practices, plays, dance recitals. Siblings spats and groans when Harry would kiss her. Picnics and beach days where he would remind the children to walk, do not run to the water. Applying sunscreen to grumbling kids and holding Y/N’s hand through all of their firsts. Perhaps it was a big dream to ask to follow through, but it was something he desperately wanted.

“You’d really want that? We haven’t even had this one yet.” She asked softly, surprise evident in her tone. “You like them that much?”

“Love them. And you.” He looked up at her again, pulling his lips from her stomach, letting the words sit in the silence for a second. “Love you a lot, Y/N. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. Want to build a family with you, a home. Not just a house or a flat. Want to do it all with you. You’ve been my best friend for a long time but I love you a lot more than that. You’re the person I’ve always wanted to be with but didn’t particularly know it. Didn’t allow myself to think of it. Now that I have a chance, I’m taking it. Keeping it.” And her.

Eventually he would propose, but he didn’t want her to think it was just from the baby fever. He loved her wholly before this but it had grown and changed shape and color. She felt like gold. Bright, shiny, priceless. Better than anything else he had ever seen and she had him wrapped around her finger.

“I’d like that.” She caressed the tops of his cheeks with her knuckles. “You’re my best friend too… and- and I think that there’s no one better suited for the job as the father of my children than you. I’ve loved you for a long time and it’s changed the meaning, like you said but.. I like that idea.” Building a home and family with him. Something so perfect to them. It wouldn’t always be, but they’d love it despite the imperfections and hiccups. She knew his heart, and it was pure.

“But to be honest? To me, you’ve always felt like home.”

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leclerced · 5 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/enchantecafe/735984662758014976/hi-whispers-oscar-fucking-carlos-little

THE WAY I SCREAMED AND BECAME THE PERSONIFICATION OF: 😀😳😧

no bc THIS is the ultimate trope for oscar and carlos beef OH MY GOD?

imagine instead of oscar flat out telling him little sainz left her ring at his place oscar menace piastri starts wearing it around his neck on chain (i live and die for this trope oh my god). and the other drivers who’ve become acquainted with little sainz from years of carlos bringing her to races are like… “hold on is that what i think it is around the baby rookie’s neck😦?” i wanna imagine lando and charles are like lowkey laughing about it because carlos looks like he could literally murder oscar (or hire someone to do it) meanwhile oscar is just smugly staring at him as little sainz dotes on him while wearing his racing number (it’d be funny if a dts episode was about their beef and lil sainz is just sitting there all pretty like “???”)

part of me likes toxic oscar, but also i love that man too much. so in my head they are actually very happy together… getting to piss of carlos is just a bonus

-🌷

ok i didnt mean to write all this sorry not sorry. ending is rushed bc i realized it was Long. checked word count and its just over 1.4k so im adding a read more 🫶🏻

he ends up falling for her even though he just wanted to fuck with carlos, it takes him months to get into her pants and he’s so focused on the destination he forgets about the journey get there. he doesn’t realize he’s falling for her bc he’s never been in love before, so he doesn’t recognize it.

maybe the ring is very obvious like its gold with three diamonds on the front, he goes out and buys a matching gold chain that morning and he suddenly feels guilty for using her to get to carlos so he buys her a tennis bracelet to replace the ring he slipped off her finger. she’s awake and pouting when he gets back and immediately asks why he left. he silently holds up the jewelry store bag as he crawls back into bed with her. she immediately notices her ring dangling from his neck and reaches out to grasp it. she doesn’t know why but seeing him wearing it around his neck makes her stomach flutter. then he’s pulling a velvet box out of the bag and opening it to reveal a much prettier bracelet. he still doesn’t say anything as he clasps it around her wrist, and then he kisses her wrist right over her pulse point and murmurs, “just wanted to treat you.”

everyone immediately notices her bracelet when she shows up to the paddock and makes her way to carlos’s garage. he notices her ring is gone and the shiny bracelet has replaced it on her wrist and he takes her hand and asks where the ring is and where the bracelet came from? she wiggles her fingers and says, “i guess i forgot to put it on this morning. bracelet is new.” he pushes it out of his mind, tries to ignore the fact that she’d had only forgotten it a single day since their mother gifted it to her. she’d had a panic attack the one time she almost did leave it at home, and they nearly missed their flight turning around to get it. if she had forgotten it this morning, why wasn’t she freaking out?

lando would see it dangling around oscar’s neck as soon as he arrives at the track and they greet each other. he remembers seeing it on her finger every race weekend when he was carlos’s teammate, so he clocks it instantly and pulls him aside. “you didn’t? there’s no way-“ and oscar immediately knows what he’s talking about and lifts it up to show it off like a trophy, “it was too small for my fingers.” and lando’s kind of jealous because he may or may not have tried asking her out once or twice. but that fades as soon as he realizes carlos is going to notice immediately too. he’s extremely protective over her because their dad was never always off racing and he’s a few years older than her, she’s like oscar’s age or a year younger maybe?? idk she’s just baby and carlos will protect her until he dies. he’s vetting every boyfriend; running background checks and hiring private investigators to find their ex girlfriends and interview them before they get his approval to date his little sister.

carlos noticed it hours later, when oscar, lando, and him are in a press conference together. lando keeps laughing out of nowhere and carlos keeps asking what he’s laughing at, which makes him laugh more. they almost make it to the end without him noticing it. oscar gets asked a question and he drops the pendant he’s been sucking on from between his lips. carlos had noticed the imprint of something under his shirt earlier and out of the corner of his eye saw him pull it out of his shirt and then put it in his mouth. immediately carlos recognizes it and knows exactly why his sister wasn’t wearing her ring when he saw her that morning. he thought it was weird when oscar suddenly put the pendant between his lips, but he realizes oscar had done it so he would see it. lando notices his shocked stare and bursts out laughing again. oscar’s smirking while answering the question about the upcoming race. carlos is holding himself back from pummeling oscar on camera, and as soon as they’re saying the conference is over, lando’s standing up and blocking him as he tries to launch himself at oscar.

everyone is so confused about what’s going on, but lando and oscar are laughing while carlos hurls threats and insults, and lando holds him back. unfortunately the cameras are still rolling and catch carlos saying oscar defiled his baby sister. somehow oscar gets out of the conference room and is whisked away by his team to ask him what is going on and what carlos is talking about? and he just can’t stop grinning because he got exactly the reaction he was looking for.

carlos finding his sister and dragging her away to his drivers room and asking her why? why him of all people. she knows anyone on the grid would bow down before her if she asked. so why did she fuck the one man he hates? and she’s like “oh my god don’t say fuck. it’s not like that.” and he asks, “what’s it like then? why do you think he did this? do you think it was anything more than a fuck to him?” and that makes her so sad, she starts tearing up and backing away from him because he’s never said anything like that to her before. she’s regretting everything and doubting everything oscar’s said to her the entire season, how perfect and kind he’s been, all the nights she laid in bed thinking about how maybe she could bring them together. her and lando could work together and make them get along. but all that is crushed hearing carlos’s words. he immediately regrets them of course, he still thinks they are true but wishes he never said them to her. he tries to grab her but she’s already out of his drivers room and when he follows her, she’s already gone.

he’d search until someone finally says they saw her leave with oscar and he’s even angrier because his words pushed her right into his arms, where he didn’t want her. he just texts his manager that he’s leaving and wonders what excuse oscar gave to get out of his media duties. he’s calling her the entire ride back to his hotel, and then he gets there and remembers that the mclaren drivers are in a different hotel and that’s definitely where they went. he has no clue where she is, probably for the first time ever. he goes to the hotel bar and has a drink as he spams her with calls until they stop going through. he calls lando but lando won’t tell him anything, apparently oscar and his sister swore him to secrecy when they left and she was sobbing and begged him not to tell her brother.

oscar wouldn’t know what to do when she shows up in his drivers room crying but he knows carlos has to be near and he doesn’t fancy getting his ass beat so he books it. lando covers for him after seeing the state she’s in. oscar’s got three sisters so he knows how to console a crying woman, he stops at a store and leaves her in the car to fetch chocolates and flowers and whatever else he sees that she might like before he takes her back to his hotel room. she cries for an hour before he finds out what’s wrong. she’s cried all her tears away and has gone through a box of tissues before she finally tells him what carlos said and how his words hurt her but it’s the thought that oscar would use her like that, make her fall for him just to get under carlos’s skin. she tells him that she knows he wouldn’t do that, that while he acts all cold and reserved with everyone else he’s completely different when they’re alone, and she know’s that’s the real him. then she’s cupping his cheeks and he’s thinking about how pretty she looks after crying, and she’s asking him to promise her he wasn’t lying to her like carlos said. and he actually feels something, he doesn’t know what the unfamiliar tug in his stomach is, guilt? pain? love? he tells himself it’s not the last one as he promises her that he wasn’t lying and wraps her up in his arms and tells her to go to bed, because he’s not going anywhere. the kiss he presses to the crown of her head makes her trust his words, no matter how untrue the first half is.

#ask #🌷 anon #oscar piastri smut #op81 #idk what to tag this as #tag later #op81/cs16 sister au

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melrodrigo · 10 months

Text

Tardy, part 8

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: An unexpected family member reveal sends you spiraling, will anyone trust you now?

Warnings: Angst that turns into fluff, mention of violence, mention of sex

Word Count 2.6k

A/N: I was dying writing this chapter (both physically and mentally) but I think the writers block is gone! Thank you for 600 followers!! As always, love u guys, and tell me what you think <33

“Mom, who’s my dad?” You asked absentmindedly, legs swinging from your living room couch.

“All the other kids at school know who their dad is, who’s mine?” You continued, blissfully unaware of the tension you had just created.

Your mom turned sharply, cigarette between her lips as she spoke.

“Oh, sweetie. Your dad’s gone. It’s just you and me now.” She said as she brought the lighter up and ignited the cigarette.

“What do you mean he’s gone?” You’d asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Your mom lets out a frustrated huff before she answers again.

“I don’t know, he’s just gone. Okay? He left town. Would you leave this topic alone now?” She sounded annoyed, and you don’t want to upset her any further, so you nodded quickly and turned your attention back to the TV screen.

“Okay, Ma.”

You flash back into another memory, this time you’re older; freshly graduated from high school, ready to move across the country to start university.

You’ve bid your farewells to friends and relatives, promising you’ll come visit every year.

Your mom’s pulling you aside looking at you weirdly. She’s getting old, you can tell by the increasing wrinkles on her face every day.

She smiles softly, and you think she looks like the sweetest grandma ever.

“Honey, I want you to know something. About your dad.”

You raise an eyebrow, mouth dropping slightly.

Your dad has always been a touchy subject for your mom, she’s never really allowed herself to tell you the full story.

Sure, as you’ve gotten older, you’ve learned bits and pieces. He was a dirtbag, leaving your mom right after she gave birth. You’d also learned that you were born in a small town called Woodsboro but had been whisked away almost immediately.

Your mom sighs now, and everything suddenly feels very heavy.

“I just tried so hard to be both parents for you, I know it wasn’t fair to keep this from you for so long. But if you’re ready to learn who your dad is, I’m ready to tell.” She says, voice cracking only the tiniest bit. You can see how strong she’s trying to be.

You suddenly see your whole childhood flash before your eyes. Your mom sending you off and picking you up every day after school. Making meals for the two of you every night, working overtime to support the family.

“No Ma. It’s okay. I already have a dad, and his name is you.” You say, pointing to her heart.

She opens her mouth but you cut in before she can say anything.

“No, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t need a dad when I have you.” You say, and you mean it wholeheartedly.

Your mother swells with happiness and takes you in a big hug. Wraps her arms around your shoulders.

“Be safe, honey.” She whispers into your ear.

You splutter, staring at the page in front of you with a jumble of letters that don’t look like coherent words anymore.

No…it couldn’t be?

There’s no way your dad was Stu Fucking Macher.

It doesn’t feel like you expected it would, finding out who your real father is. Years and years of endless crying; wondering why and why and why.

Every moment has led up to this.

This light, breakable paper in your palms. It’s telling you all you’ve ever wanted to hear, and yet somehow it’s also the thing you need to hear the least.

There’s quick flashes of déjà vu as you stare at the name.

Blood; lots of it. Splattered on the ceiling, all over your body. Screams, loud and clear as day, piercing through your eardrums and starting a ringing sound.

You snap back into reality as Sam steps up to you.

You brace yourself for the worse, you wouldn’t be mad if Sam kicked you out bare into the street right then and there, hell, she could hurt you and you wouldn’t even be mad.

She raises her hand but the impact never comes. Instead, she kneels down to you and holds your shoulders tight.

“It’s okay. I know it’s hard.” She says, soft. Her lips are pulled into a frown but her eyes are sorrowful.

“It’s- it’s okay?” Tara splutters, staring between you and her sister. Flabbergasted would be a minuet way to describe her expression.

“Yes. It’s okay. Can everyone leave the room for a minute? I want to talk to YN.” Sam says, and everyone heeds her orders; shuffling down through the living room hallway.

You stare at Sam, eyebrows knit tight together. She’s hated you since you the day you met, and now she’s the one protecting you?

“Why?” You ask, curiosity seeping through your voice.

“Everyone here has been through something.” She says, biting her lip. “And believe me, if anyone knows about being framed as the bad guy, it’s me.”

She hesitates a little before she opens her mouth again.

“Let’s not pretend that everyone here doesn’t have immensely traumatic things happen to them. Me and Tara…well we know about that. But Mindy and Anika and Chad? You wouldn’t believe the stories I’ve heard from them.” She says, twiddling with her thumbs.

“What if I’m actually the killer?” You press, gauging Sam’s reaction.

She tuts and answers sharply.

“I don’t believe for a second that you are.”

It takes you aback, her being so sure about it. You stay quiet, try to think of anything to say.

You can’t, it’s all too much information to get.

“How can you know that?” You say finally, tilting your head up to make eye contact with Sam.

She pats your back lightly. “You’re a good person YN. We can all tell.”

“We’re a family. One fucked up family, but family all the same. Including you.” She says, voice sure.

You hold eye contact for a while, a silent conversation being spoken. Setting aside all your differences, Sam was actually a really cool person. And you can tell she feels the same way.

Before you know it she’s out down the same hallway the group left in.

You’re sat on the couch, mouth open and eyes glazed.

Huh.

“YN? Mind if I come in?” Tara’s voice sounds from in front of you. You can’t decipher what the tone is.

“Yeah…yeah of course.” You answer, watching as Tara enters and stands before you.

You can’t handle her intense stare, and you drop your head immediately. Anxiety floods you, heart picking up speed.

You don’t notice her until she’s right in front of you, taking your cheeks in her hands. Stroking, softly.

10 minutes ago she was mad, and now she’s comforting you? This girl and her mixed signals.

“I believe you.” She murmurs, leaning down to press her lips on your cheek. She’s so short that even when you’re sitting down you’re almost the same height.

You don’t want to think about any of this now, you don’t want to think about it ever. You want to tell Tara this, but you can’t bring yourself to speak.

Your throat feels dry, eyes slightly teary.

“So what do we do now?” You whisper.

She continues stroking your face fondly, cradles you in her arms.

“We continue with the plan.” She says, and there’s a sense of finality in it that makes you shiver.

They’ve pushed back the date on their plan to capture Ghostface a little bit. Tara won’t admit it, but you know she’s the one who suggested it. She must think you need time to process the sudden father reveal, no doubt.

It’s sweet, but she’s wrong. In fact, right now all you need is a distraction. Something to take your mind off all the racing thoughts through your head, the sense of betrayal you feel.

Maybe I should call my mom.

“Hey. Whatcha thinking bout?” A voice sounds from behind you. It’s Anika, and you send her a soft smile; feeling weirdly glad to be in her company.

“Oh nothing much. Just about how my dad was one of the original Ghostfaces and that we’re literally running straight into danger in a few days.” You say, trying to make your voice sound light and teasing.

Anika seems to pick up on the underlying message, and you hear her sigh a little before speaking.

She rounds the couch to come sit down beside you, a pack of medical supplies in her arms. She splays it across the table and turns back to face you.

“If it makes you feel any better, I know what it’s like to have a rough family. My parents were…dipshits to say the least.” She says, casually.

Oh.

You try and think of something appropriate to say in response, but your brain seizes up and it goes blank.

“But you don’t have to feel bad for me. I have a new family now.” She continues, smiling at you; genuine crinkles at the tips of her eyes. She pats your back lightly.

“Just so you know, I don’t think you’re the killer. Who cares if your dad is Ghostface? It’s not like this is the first time it’s happened in our friend group. I trust you, really.”

It’s enough to make you teary-eyed again. You look away, hoping she can’t see them.

“Thank you.” You mumble. “That means a lot to me.”

She chuckles warmly before taking you in a hug. You guys don’t say anything the rest of the time she fixes up your wound.

“Are you blushing?” Tara asks immediately when Anika leaves the room, footsteps light.

“What? No, I’m not.” You say, running a hand through your hair.

“Did she make you blush?” She’s asking, a teasing smile on her lips.

You frown.

“She just said some very nice things to me, okay?” You huff, cross your arms like a child.

“Aw, baby. You look adorable.” She murmurs, giving you a peck on the lips.

“Are you not jealous?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow at her.

She brings a finger to her lips and feigns thoughtfulness. Then she smiles wide and takes your lips in a searing kiss.

“No.” She mumbles against them. “Because I know you’re mine. And I can definitely make you do a lot more than blush.”

It’s enough to make you flush completely red. You let out a little whine at her words.

“See?” She’s asking as she leans back, a smirk on her lips. You try and wipe it off by wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her in for another kiss.

She’s not wrong. But you’re not going to admit that. It’s a fatal flaw, really. How easily you relent when it comes to Tara. You’d die for her, you’d kill for her, and she knows it.

“Come on,” She’s whispering. “Let’s go to my room.”

You pull back, amused.

“I don’t think I can even stand and you’re asking me to do what?” You ask pointedly.

She tugs on your shirt, obviously not in the mood to play one of your games right now.

“Then maybe I’ll just take you right here.” She whispers into your ear, laughing as you shiver beneath her.

You gulp, stare at her with big eyes. She crawls forward, leaning her elbows into your sides on instinct.

You can’t help but wince.

It seems to break Tara out of her lustful haze, because now she’s looking at you with worried eyes.

She’s getting up kind of panicky, fiddling with her hands.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I should let you sleep.” She says, sort of fast, words tumbling out of her.

You smile at her, grip her hands tight.

“It’s okay, Tara. Although, I do want to hit the hay for a while. Care to join me?” You invite, tugging her closer slightly to make sure she doesn’t leave.

She grins shyly and nods.

“Okay.” She says, biting the inside of her cheek. She’s the cutest with the excitement that radiates off her.

When you wake, Tara’s not in your arms anymore. You stir, rubbing your eyes aggressively.

“Tara?” You groan, trying to look around the weirdly dim room for any sign of your girlfriend.

You notice the candles immediately, more than a dozen of them lining the table and making a little pathway to the fireplace.

Your girlfriend appears in front of you now, wearing a little white sundress; one you’d specifically bought for her weeks ago.

She looks so good, you almost start drooling. Like an angel, the way she’s standing and staring at you, playful, excited gaze.

“I was wondering when you were going to wake up.” She grins, bending down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“What is all this?” You question, looking around the room in further inspection.

There are two plates set up quite nicely on the dining table, along with a bottle of champagne and a single flower in the middle.

It’s all so, romantic.

Tara twirls, and gives you a little show of her dress. Then she takes your hand and gently helps you up, leading you to the dining room with her.

“I never got to take you on a date. I think it’s time I return the favor.” She says, nodding along to her sentence; like a reassurance.

“You’re adorable.“ You say, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. She blushes a little.

“Thank you.” She mumbles.

The smell as you enter the dining room is mouth-watering. You recognize it immediately. It’s your favorite pasta, ravioli with white wine and tomatoes.

Tara’s an amazing cook, you know this already. But the flavors that explode in your mouth when you take a bite out of it are otherworldly.

“This is the best thing you’ve ever cooked.” You speak through stuffed cheeks, eyes wide and happy.

Tara picks up a piece of her own and eats it.

“I didn’t know what to make you, so I called your mom. She said this was your favorite, so I went on youtube and tried to replicate the recipe.” She says, somewhat shyly.

You beam.

“You called my mom?” You ask, teasingly. Boop her on the nose. You celebrate internally when you see her flush red.

“Yeah, it was no biggie. Just a phone call.” She disregards, biting her bottom lip to try and stop the color that’s overtaking her whole face.

She reaches forward to grab another piece of ravioli before she stops short and gasps.

“Oh! I almost forgot to give you these.” Tara says, reaching behind her chair for something. She pulls out a huge bouquet of flowers, filled with your favorites.

You don’t try and hide the surprise in your face, mouth open and gaping.

She slaps your arm lightly at your reaction.

“Hey! I can be romantic too you know.”

You nod sarcastically.

“Oh yeah no doubt no doubt.” You say, taking the bouquet from her hands in favor of bending over the table and kissing her.

“Thank you, baby.” You say against her lips. She smiles wide, scrunching her nose as she pulls back.

“You taste like pasta!” She’s giggling, pushing you back into your chair.

You finish the dinner in record time, and that’s due entirely to how good the meal was. You and Tara sit and talk for a little while before moving to the floor to watch a movie.

Tara’s annoyingly secretive about it, not letting you see whatever she’s setting up. You huff and go grab snacks from the fridge instead.

When you get back it’s to the TV covered, and there’s a small projector at the side shining light on a random bed sheet she’s hung vertically.

“Impressive speed.” You praise.

Tara’s sitting smugly, arms open and inviting you to come sit.

It’s playing 10 Things I Hate About You, one of your all-time favorite movies. You settle down into the spot next to her and sneak a glance over, but she’s already staring at you; hard.

You let out a breath of happiness and pull her closer by the waist. Kiss her on the forehead, murmur against her skin.

“Thank you for this. I needed it.”

She nods into you and pulls you impossibly closer.

“Of course.” She says.

You decide Ghostface can wait, your dad can wait. All that matters right now is Tara. Her and this movie and you.

The only three things that exist in the world.

#tardy #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #scream vi #mine #scream #tara carpenter x you

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toxophilitis · 3 months

Text

Horny Peeping Sister cont

Chapter 9

When his children told him about what he had missed, Jim forgot his fears about going out spying. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more anxious he became to hit the streets again as soon as possible.

The next evening, when his wife said she felt a little ill and went up to bed very early, Jim couldn’t have been happier. He was so eager to look in on some hot fucking action that he was willing to take a chance on going out with Becky and Tom while their mother was in the house.

“Get your coats kids, let’s go, go, go!” he exclaimed, interrupting their television program and switching off the set.

“Come on, Dad,” Tom said. “We can’t go with mom here.”

“Your mother has gone to bed with a headache.”

“Yeah, but what if she gets up?” Becky asked.

“I just looked in on her, and she’s asleep already. What’s the matter with you guys?” Jim leered. “Don’t you wanna fuck?”

Becky and Tom both laughed at their father’s new-found sexuality. And, instead of answering his question with words, they just went upstairs to change their clothes.

“I can’t believe she’s not home either,” Becky sighed as they turned away from Brenda’s darkened window. “She was our last hope!” The disappointed blonde looked into the equally long faces of her father and brother. They’d combed the neighborhood and had not found anything interesting to look at. Even the ultra-sexy Brenda had disappointed them.

“I guess it wasn’t meant to be,” Jim said, draping an arm around the shoulder of each of his children. “We might as well just go home and try another night.”

“Shit, and I was gettin’ really hot for it, too,” Tom grumbled, kicking a stone. They took their time walking home, their eyes still scanning the windows along the back alley. Many of them were lit and some even had open drapes. But there was no fucking happening in any of them. They were just a few houses away from their own backyard when they suddenly saw the light in Jim and Julia’s bedroom go on. Instinctively they all hurried up, then slowed again when they realized it was just their own house.

“Your mother must be up,” Jim said.

“Oh god, what’ll we tell her?” Becky exclaimed worriedly.

Jim just laughed and rumpled her hair. “I’ll just say we went out for ice cream or something. Don’t worry.” As they passed by Julia’s lighted window on the way around to the front door, they just couldn’t help but look in. And when they did, the sight stopped them dead in their tracks, the three of them letting out a collective gasp of surprise. In her present state, Julia looked anything but ill. In fact, Becky and Tom had never seen her look lovelier and Jim instantly felt his cock pound with a longing for his wife he hadn’t felt in years.

Julia was leaning back against the padded headboard of their big bed. She was naked and her legs were spread, her knees bent and pointed outward. Her small body looked rather frail in the soft light, her short blonde hair making her look like a child. The cross expression that had seemed permanent on her face lately was gone, and in its place was a look of rapture. Her hands were between her parted legs and all three observers assumed she was fingering her pussy. But then she drew her hands back away from her cunt and they could see something large between them.

“She’s fucking herself with something!” Becky gasped. “Oh my god, it’s a cucumber!”

Jim and Tom stared. Becky was right, Julia did seem to be pounding a large, green cucumber in and out between the lips of her cunt, her face rolling with lust. Jim and Tom and Becky each looked at each other blankly. Jim couldn’t understand it. His wife almost never wanted to fuck him, and here she was fucking herself with a pseudo cock. What was her problem? he wondered. Although Tom and Becky didn’t know the details about their parents’ sex life, they had assumed that it wasn’t the greatest. Still, they couldn’t help feeling sorry for their father. His expression belied a dozen mixed emotions.

“Don’t be upset, Dad,” Becky whispered, nuzzling up to her father and cupping his tented crotch.

“Yeah, Dad,” Tom piped up. “Who needs her? You’ve always got us.”

Jim cupped his daughter’s groping hand and gave his son a short hug. He just didn’t understand Julia and he watched her for many minutes, his confusion growing rather than lessening. Tom and Becky stood quietly while their father stared at their mother. Becky kept her hand at his crotch, her fingers working over his lengthening prick. She was glad that she could make his cock hard even when he was so upset. What the girl didn’t realize was that his hard-on was as much for his wife as for Becky’s tender ministrations. Her young pussy bubbling as usual, Becky then dropped to her knees in front of her startled father and drew his zipper down.

Jim didn’t react and Becky helped herself to his prick, lifting it out of his pants. As she took her father’s cock in her mouth, she looked up his body toward his face. His eyes were sad, but his mouth was turned up into a sort of smirk. When she ran her tongue around the tip of his cock-head, she was delighted when he sighed and began to thrust his hips slightly, his attention still focused on Julia inside the house. Tom watched his mother, too. She was usually so hateful that the boy had never given her body much thought. But now, Tom had to admire his father’s taste in women. His mom was petite but really built, with big tits and a figure that was usually hidden under loose, bulky clothes. Her legs were short but nice and the hair between them was as blonde as the hair on her head. While they watched her, Julia rotated her ass around, pulling it up off the bed slightly. Sometimes she fucked her body at the thick, green vegetable and other times she used it to fuck herself. She rolled her head back against the pillows piled behind her back, the ecstasy she felt very obvious on her flushed face. Then she used one hand to fuck herself, moving the cucumber deftly. Her other hand remained at her crotch, rotating quickly, obviously stimulating her clit.

Tom felt his cock harden in his pants and he looked over to see how Becky was coming with the cock-sucking of their father, hoping it would be his turn very soon. Becky had her back to the window as she bobbed her face up and back on Jim’s prick. She took and released his cock-meat quickly, her hands toying with his balls. From time to time when she held only the tip of his prick between her tender lips, she turned herself enough to see that her mother was still fucking herself as lewdly as ever with the fake prick. The scene made her pussy juice and she wondered why she’d never thought of doing something like that herself when she was alone and horny. Becky jumped a little when her father suddenly reached down and caressed the top of her head. Aside from moving his hips a bit, he had been very unresponsive to her head-job. She sucked his prick a little harder now and Jim began to pant, his eyes still on his wife rather than on the girl kneeling in front of him.

Faster and faster the cucumber flew in and out of Julia’s pussy. The two men in her life watched as she brought herself closer and closer to orgasm. Tom felt hotter than he ever had before. Watching his own mother get herself off was something he had never even imagined doing, but now that it was happening he was thrilled by it. He even began to wonder what it would be like to take that stupid cucumber out of her hands and give her his cock to fuck instead. As Tom watched with greedy eyes, Julia threw her head back violently and jammed the green prick completely into her pussy. The vegetable disappeared totally and the woman spasmed hard, her head tossing and her mouth open to emit a silent scream.

“Oh yeah!” Jim gasped, slamming his cock hard into Becky’s throat and pretended his wife’s orgasming pussy rippled around the deeply embedded shaft of his prick. Becky strained to turn around enough to see what was happening with her mother, but she only got a quick glimpse before her father’s hands closed around the sides of her face and forced her to take his cock into her throat again. She moaned around it, forced to take the violent fucking blows meant for her mother’s pussy.

Out of respect for his father, Tom had tried to control himself. During his mother’s exhibition, he had contented himself with just rubbing his fingers over the tip of his packed fly. But now, when Julia jerked the cucumber from her pussy and then flopped over onto her stomach and held the creamy prick up to her lips, Tom couldn’t stand it anymore. He quietly opened his jeans and took out his hard-on, sighing as he began to jack on it while he watched his mother’s latest horny antics. Like a dog with a bone between her paws, Julia sucked and licked on the tasty vegetable, slurping up her own pussy-juices. Jim involuntarily licked his lips. Not too far back in his memory he could recall the delicious flavor of his wife’s cunt-juices and he envied her such a tasty morsel. With renewed vigor he slammed into Becky’s mouth.

Becky had to work hard now to keep up with her father’s fuck-lust. His fuck-strokes were erratic and his cock was dripping so much the girl had to swallow constantly just so she didn’t drown in his creamy flow. Her tongue grew tired from running up and down and around and around his prick-shaft, but Becky kept on, wanting to be the best she could for her sexy dad. If Jim appreciated what she was doing for him, he didn’t let her know. He huffed and puffed, jerking his cock from her fine oral grip and then fucking it back between her lips. But he never looked down at her or called her by name. As Julia worked over the cucumber with her ovaled lips, Jim felt more than ever like the lips that were around his prick belonged to his wife. While Becky played with his balls, he took hold of his own prick-shaft, jacking on it and moving the loose outer skin up and down it much as Julia was caressing the slimy cucumber.

While he worked over his own cock, Becky took a moment to crane her eyes around her father’s hard-on and look in on her mother. Her eyes went wide with shock as she saw the way her mother’s tongue reached out to clean her own pussy-juices off the slick surface of the vegetable she had used to fuck herself. Becky was reminded of the way Bobby’s mother had eaten his cream from Brenda’s cunt and again she felt that funny feeling in the pit of her stomach. What would it be like to taste cunt-juice? she wondered. Again her dad took hold of her face and jerked her back around, forcing her to think of nothing but sucking his cock. She zig-zagged her tongue tip up along that sensitive path on the underside of his prick and heard him grunt.

“Take it, honey,” he ranted. “Take, take it, take it!” Becky was again forced to absorb his frustrated jabs. The head of his cock poked against one cheek and then the other, stretching her pretty face out of shape and venturing dangerously close to her sharp teeth. His father’s words drew Tom’s attention and for the first time in many minutes his eyes left the brightly lit picture of his obscenely displayed mother and hit upon his equally ready father.

Tom saw the way his old man was battering Becky’s face, making her head snap from side to side, her hair slashing across her face. With a lusty grumble Tom gripped his own cock more tightly, fighting back the feelings of jealousy. He would have loved to have had his sister’s warm, soft mouth wrapped around his rigid, aching cock. But since he was alone, he, like his dad, imagined it was his prick Julia was lavishing such tenderness on. Julia’s pointed tongue stuck out as far as she could force it and then she ran it up and down the sides of the vegetable very slowly. She lapped at it like she was eating an ice cream cone and then she ovaled her lips and took several inches of the great shaft into her mouth.

“Yeah, suck me, baby,” Jim panted, his hips pistoning back and forth. “Take it all in and suck me good. You want my cream? I’ll give it to ya, just suck me, yeahhh!”

Becky’s breath snorted out of her nose against the top of her father’s cock. Because she had been sucking him so long and so furiously, her nose began to run and she sniffled, drawing the thin snot back up into her nasal passages. But it didn’t help much and before long she could feel it running down again, gathering at the edge of her nostrils and then running down toward her top lip, which was stretched taut around her father’s fucking prick. Julia sucked her cheeks in around the rigid vegetable, putting a very sexy suction on it.

Both men moaned, each imagining what it would feel like to have such a thing done to him. She forced it in and out between her lips and Tom knew he had never viewed a more unnaturally erotic sight than that long green thing emerging from his mother’s pretty face. Julia made love to that cucumber better than she had to her husband in quite some time and it made Jim’s blood boil to watch. When she sucked in all the thick, round inches of that fake cock, he rolled his eyes, Becky’s mouth becoming his wife’s.

Again Becky peeked around, watching her mother with awe. The woman took in almost the whole cucumber and then pulled it back out. Julia held it up in front of her face, inspecting it closely, and then brought it back to her lips. Then, suddenly and to the horror of those watching her, she quickly bit off the tip of her pretend cock and chewed it up greedily.

“Ah, shit!” Tom grunted, his fantasy abruptly broken off, but his orgasm just as abruptly triggered. Becky heard the first spurt of her brother’s cream and then was startled when the first of her father’s jism followed Tom’s by only a few seconds. She gulped madly, taking the man’s super load and listening to her brother’s cock-cream pissing down onto the asphalt beside her. How she wished she could look at her mother right then, but with her father’s shooting prick crammed down her throat it was impossible for her to turn her head far enough side of the bed.

The man couldn’t help but wonder what other things his own pillow had witnessed while he was away. “I’ve gotta go in there,” he said, speaking as much to himself as to his children.

“What about us, Dad?” Becky asked, getting to her feet, her knees straightening out painfully.

“Fuck, I never knew mom was so hot!” Tom panted, putting his spent cock away. Jim ignored his son’s comment and addressed his daughter. “I think we need to have a family conference. Since I now know that it wasn’t your mother’s head that was bothering her tonight, I think this might be a good time for us all to talk.”

“Should we come with you then?” Becky asked sincerely.

Jim thought for a minute. “No,” he said, “you wait here and when I call you, come running. Your mother won’t say no to me tonight, not after what we just saw. Now give me a kiss for luck.”

Becky got up on her tip-toes and pecked her father on the cheek.

“Thanks hon,” he said, giving her ass a squeeze. “And thanks for the blow-job.” With that he left his children standing in the alley and started in toward the house. Just as he disappeared around the corner, Tom and Becky saw their mother reach over for the bedside lamp and then the bedroom went dark.

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daydreamgoddess14 · 9 months

Text

Saturday Mornings

MASTERLIST

🤸‍♀️ Well , well, well, didn't take long to get me back on my bullshit, did it? 🤣 I bring you a Roy Kent smutty one shot. Enjoy the gorgeousness of this man 🥵

Roy doesn't have a thing for Phoebe's dance teacher. Until he does. 👀

For @littleesilvia 😘

Saturday Mornings

Saturday morning had always been for Phoebe. From the day she was born, Roy had dedicated every Saturday morning to her. In the first weeks of her birth, he'd let himself into his sister's house and picked up a squawking Phoebe from the moses basket and taken care of her from 6-10 am so his sister could get more sleep. In those early days, he'd spoken to her in his deep, gruff voice while she drifted in and out of sleep. Then they'd go for a walk to the shop, the neighbours peeping into the buggy until Roy had growled at them to "Fuck off and stop gawping at her, she's trying to fucking sleep." As she got a little older, it became cartoons and cereal - devoured together on the sofa, and then a trip to the park. He'd arranged everything for 9 years around his Saturday mornings with Phoebe. Even away matches with a midday kick off didn't stop him, it didn't matter if it was an hour, or five hours - match day or no match day, rain or shine, if he was single or not, Uncle Roy would be there. Their time alone together moved through her swimming lessons phase, gymnastics phase, and morphed into his coaching her kids team. He wanted to be on board with this next phase - really, he did.

After 8 weeks of lessons, he'd finally put his finger on what the problem was. The dancing was nothing new, Phoebe had tried ballet, tap, some weird toddler baby dance shit. 16 weeks ago, she'd switched to some kind of pop/tween dance class with a lovely older woman who mostly sat to one side and pointed to each move, each music transition. It had been great, 8.30-9.30am every Saturday, fucking wonderful. Then 8 weeks ago, that woman had switched classes and you had taken over. You, with your tight Tik Tok leggings and your cropped t-shirt. You who showed the kids each move over and over again. The number of dad's attending the class had suddenly gone up. It had been 6 months since he thought that he and Keeley could try again, but she'd made it clear that that was not the case. He'd been single for longer than 6 months before, sure, but not for a long time. Back then in his younger days, he'd thought nothing of a mutually convenient resolution with a friend until he met his next significant other. He’d come to the conclusion now that he was too fucking old for a friends with benefits situation.

If it was just Saturday mornings that were the problem, he could live with that. He started out by taking a book and ignoring the class completely, but Phoebe did not like that at all. So he switched to audiobooks, brought a pair of fucking ear buds so he could drown out the sound of your voice, your gentle encouragement and the giggles. If it wasn’t the leggings going to tip him over the edge, it was going to be the giggles. Or the praise. Weird, he didn’t realise he had a bit of a praise kink before. Then he heard you in a breathy voice saying something that definitely could apply to situations other than a 9 year olds dance class and nearly had to leave the room. No, it wasn’t just Saturday mornings anymore. You came to mind now at the most inconvenient times. Sitting on the bike while Jamie pulled him along at 5am when shouting at Jamie in the street would have been frowned upon and they instead trained quietly, whenever one of the kids dance routine songs came on the radio and he was forced to relive watching you teach them, at night in the dark when he was alone, in the shower… He absolutely had to stop thinking about you like this. Like you’d see it in his eyes when you waved good morning, or when he held his bank card over your little hand held machine to pay for the classes. He also couldn’t stand the very much married men who flirted so openly with you. Clearly telling their wives at home, no love, I’ll take little… Mabel to dance class, you stay here and have a lie in and a cup of tea.

It was funny how they’d migrated from the later morning class which was run by a woman who had the body shape of a fucking pencil. Beautiful, yeah she wasn’t bad. But she didn’t have the strong thighs you did, the sweeping curve of your hip into a cute little waist. He couldn’t go another week like this. Had to stop now, stop being so pervy. He was no better than the other blokes who came to watch their kids' class. Except he was slightly better, because he was actually single.

“Uncle Roy, we’re here, come on!” Phoebe was already half out of the car. He braced himself for another week of torture.

“Good morning guys! Come in, I’m just getting set up.” You called out from across the room. He was a bit too early really. Not intentionally, of course not. You were still in your hoodie, still setting up the portable speaker and drinking a Costa coffee. You put a song on in the background and he had to hold his breath while you pulled off the warm grey sweater. As it came off, it pulled the baggy cropped t-shirt up as well, exposing your sports bra underneath, the soft skin of your stomach. It was definitely soft whenever he thought about it anyway. You straightened yourself out and sat on the floor, stretching your legs out in front of you and reaching forward to your toes. Phoebe lept out of her seat, threw her coat at Roy and plonked herself down in front of you, mirroring your pose. “Joining me for a warm up Phoebs?”

“It’s important to warm up. My Uncle Roy is a football coach and he says it’s the most important part.”

“He’s not wrong.” You smiled, moving through some other poses and stretches. He was a dead man. This was it. The end, this was how it was going to go. You stretch your arms up as far as you can reach them, stretching out your back with a little pop. He tried to ignore the fucking Grecian vase shape your body made, truly. Until you’d made a noise a little too close to a moan for his liking, followed by, “Holy shit that feels good.”

Fucking hell. Fucking hell .

“Sorry Phebs, didn’t mean to swear.”

“It’s ok. I’ll let you off the first time, but you owe me a pound next time.”

“Aww thanks.” The class soon filled up, he wished he’d taken a seat way at the back, out of the way so he could either look at you without it being so noticeable, or ignore you completely. He totally respected your classes, he really did. It was a tricky thing, conducting an age appropriate class for 9 year olds which avoided sexualising dance moves but also made them feel like they were able to move their bodies how they wanted to. Of course, it’s not always the dance moves themselves which could be seen as sexual, more often it’s the person watching who makes that connotation. And he tried so, so hard not to do that. Tried desperately to not think about how your body would move underneath his, on top of his, the beautiful sounds he could draw from you. He needed to get out, feigned a phone call, holding up his phone as he got to the door so you knew he’d be right outside if Phoebe needed anything. He didn’t think you’d even seen him until you gave him a little thumbs up.

At the end of the class, you encourage the kids to just sit for a minute. You all usually end up sprawled on your backs, not having to make eye contact makes it easier for some of the kids to talk openly if they wanted help or an opinion on something. It was somewhat of an eye opener for the parents as well. This week, you had the kids sit up so they could see you,

“I thought I might take you on a little trip, if you guys fancy it? I was going to go and see the new Barbie film after class next week. If any of you want to come with me, with your grown up - of course - then we could have a really exciting morning! I’m not allowed to take any of you without another grown up though, ok? So you’ll have to check with them first.” You handed each of them a little pink party invite. He already knew before Phoebe asked. Their match next week was on Sunday so he was free all of Saturday morning. He had no excuse to not take her, he also didn’t think he wanted one.

He hoped you were a little bit dumb. It was a horrible thought, he knew that, to wish stupidity on someone. But if there was any chance of him making a full recovery and banishing you to the depths of his mind, never to turn up again - especially not when he was in the shower with his hand around himself, he really fucking hoped that you were dumber than a box of rocks. You weren’t. He already had an inkling of that, but he could still live in hope.

“Fancy the Barbie movie next week?” You’d asked brightly as he’d held out his card to pay, he wasn’t sure if it was the physical and mental turmoil of having to watch you for the last hour, but he thought he could detect a sliver of hope in your voice.

“Fucking probably, she won’t let me say no.” Phoebe held out a hand for her pound. “Add it to my tab.”

And of course, that’s how he found himself in a dark cinema the following week with a gaggle of kids around him. He was still trying to work out if it was a blessing or a curse that he’d ended up sitting next to you - it had certainly earned him glares from one or two of the other grown ups. As you laughed again at another joke aimed to sail just over pre-teen heads, he knew it was a curse. It had to be. Forced to listen to that laugh for two hours? Fucking torture. When you cried, he knew he was done for. He reached over, just a little and patted the back of your hand in comfort. Just a little there, there gesture. You’d only fucking gripped his hand and squeezed it, he stole a glance at you and you’d given him a watery smile and a little lopsided shrug. Then you’d let go of his hand, and turned back to the movie. He had to spend the remaining 45 minutes of the film trying not to think about your warm hands carefully exploring his body.

The following week, he did it.

“Would you like to go for a coffee sometime?” He asked quietly as his card payment went through. He didn’t think you’d heard him until you looked up sharply.

"Aren't you like way out of my league?"

"What league is that then?”

“Well, you're in the ridiculously fit footballer league? Y’know for people who date supermodels and influencers?”

“I wouldn't fucking know about that.”

“I'm sure you would, I'm sure they don’t kick you out once you retire. Once a fit footballer, always a fit footballer? Is that the name of it? The… F. I. T? Or is it just the R.F.F.L?”

“What's that stand for?”

“No idea, it's your league, you tell me. Footballers Into Tits?”

“That’s a shit acronym”

“I know. I can do better, promise. Give me a minute.”

“I'm sure you'd be alright in that league” He said quietly,

“Excuse me? That was very cheeky. Ohh, maybe it could stand for ‘Filthy rich but Impossibly Tedious’?”

“That’s pretty good, definitely suits some footballers I know. Alright, fine. What fucking league are you in, then?”

“Whatever the Conference equivalent of the F.I.T is.”

“Now that can’t be true.”

“Oh yeah? How do you know?”

“I just fucking do. Is it a yes to coffee?”

“I mean, I still think you’re way too high up the F.I.T for me, but sure.”

“It’s the R.F.F.L actually.” He smirks as you hand him a flyer for the class.

“My number is on there.” You tell him, then you’d walked away without taking his number, which meant he was going to have to be the one to contact you first. No, you definitely weren’t dumb. Shit .

This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was a combination of factors really, a busy week at work meant though he’d messaged you quickly, he wasn’t actually able to meet for coffee until the end of the week. So you’d spent all week in a message exchange which had ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous.

“Would you rather fight 100 tiny Jamie Tartt’s or 1 giant one?”

“100 tiny ones. I’d fucking stamp on them all.”

“Figured out what league you’re in.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Champions League.”

“Fuck off am I. I’ve wikipedia’d your dating history mate. Gina Gershon? I think I should cancel coffee now…”

“Fuck, please don’t.”

“Do you always try so hard to look like you’re not looking at dance class?”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uhuh. Ok.”

“Yes, I do. Every week is torture.”

“Jamie says I’m too old for the R.F.F.L.”

“Maybe that works in my favour. If I’m up against Gina fucking Gershon, I’d have no chance.”

“You’re not up against anyone.”

“I've been thinking about you all morning.”

“Was that flirting? Were you just flirting with me?”

“Shut up. See you later.”

And now… well. Coffee at 3pm on a Friday turned into dinner at 6pm, dessert at 8pm and a nightcap at 10pm in his kitchen. You tapped the edge of your empty tumbler,

“Another?” He asked, leaning against the counter just across from you.

“No, thank you. I should… go.” The lift at the end meant it could have been a statement, could have been a question. He nodded,

“Early class.”

“Yep. I think we lost track of time.”

“Or not,” he offered,

“Or not,” you bit your lip and he felt indecision fluttering in his chest. He pushed off the counter and closed the gap between you both in only one step.

“If I kissed you now, would you be mad?” He asked softly, he could see your body tremble with the breath you took.

“Think I’d be more mad if you didn’t.” He watched you hold his gaze for as long as you could before looking at his mouth. He took the tumbler from you and put it on the counter before placing a careful hand on your hip and leaning down to kiss you. The warm whisky taste of vanilla and honey mingled with the chocolate from your dessert and Roy realised that no, he hadn’t been tortured before, watching you teach a bunch of kids how to dance wasn’t the way he was going to go. This was. Right here in his kitchen with your arms winding around his neck and bringing him as close as you could possibly get him. Your fingers scratching through his hair. He pressed you into the counter,

“I’ve thought about doing this for a long time,” he whispered, kissing down your neck, making you gasp. He pulled away quickly, worried that it was too much too soon, “Shit, sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” He went to move further back to give you space but your hands gripped his shirt to pull him back in,

“Please, I don’t want to stop,” you breathed heavily, “I don’t want you to stop.” You said, more firmly. He was against you again in an instant,

“Sure?” He asked, “You’re sure?” You stepped up to kiss him, making your feelings very clear,

“I’m sure.” Your fingers flew to the buttons of his shirt, undoing the first couple. He pulled you away from the counter, strong arms wrapped around your back and lifted you enough to move you both to the sofa. You stumbled against the cushions, falling backwards and pulling him with you so that he landed heavily on top of you.

"Oof."

“Fuck, sorry. You ok?” He sits back up on his knees, allowing you to automatically move your legs to either side of his and sit up,

“Never better,” his smile catches you off guard, “fuck, you’re gorgeous.” You mumble, reaching for him. The feeling is more than mutual. He needs to feel your kiss again, desperate to feel your skin on his. It’s better than anything he’d spent the last 8 weeks dreaming of. And the sounds you made as his hands and kisses explored your body were enough to drive him insane. He moves further down your body, pulling your skirt down with him and immediately turns to trail kisses and little bites along your inner thigh while his hand reaches up to link fingers with yours.

“Look at me,” he whispered, his breath hot against your hip. The simple request alone made your body turn to liquid against him. He’d spent so long thinking about (denying, debating, ignoring) the effect you had on him, he hadn’t actually considered that you would be just as affected by him. He wasn’t stupid, he knew he looked y’know, alright , for an older bloke. But still, seeing it first hand… seeing it first hand, hearing it first hand, from you was really something else entirely. You tugged his hand to bring up back up to you but he shook his head, his beard catching the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, “busy,” he said, his voice muffled. He focused on nothing but you, losing himself in each gasp, moan and clutch of your hand still holding his. He worked you through one bone-shaking orgasm without stopping, leaving you a shuddering mess as he went straight for another. Looking up at you, he could see the hand that wasn’t clinging onto him had covered your eyes. This time when you squeezed his hand, he made his way back up your body and settled between your legs. “You ok?” he asked, leaving soft kisses on your jaw before finally capturing your mouth in a filthy kiss. You didn’t speak, just shook your head. “You taste fucking incredible.” He kissed you again and you whimpered, finally moving your hand away from your eyes.

“I’ve got a problem.”

“Oh yeah?” He said, moving back to your neck, a hand slipping behind you to unclip your bra.

“Yeah I thought you’d only want a one night thing but that’s impossible now.”

“It was fucking impossible anyway. One night is definitely not enough time.”

“Oh,” you whispered weakly. “Good. Please-, oh fuck,” he caught a nipple lightly between his teeth, “please don’t stop.” So he didn’t, and he never would again if it was up to him. When he’d been (much) younger, he fully grasped the importance and concept of consent. He was a professional footballer - it wasn’t just important, it was crucial. But as he’d gotten older, he finally realised just how much better saying, and hearing, the words made everything. Being able to ask, “may I?” and “I need to hear you say it” and waiting, waiting, waiting, for the breathy response had never left him so wrecked before. He pushed into you in long, slow strokes while you met him with each roll of your hips. When you hold his jaw tightly to bring his gaze to yours, he nearly falls apart but he's determined to get you there first and he knows you're so close. "You feel so good-," you whisper, "So good."

"Fuck, I need-"

"I know, I'm right with you." His name is on you lips as you come and he thinks it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. When he joins you, he kisses you with such depth it's like you were made for him. You lay still together for a while as you catch your breath. He keeps his nose in the crook of your neck while his hand softly smooths across your ribs and the side of your breasts. Your legs no longer lock around him, you stretch out and enjoy the weight of his body covering you.

"'M crushing you," he mumbles. His voice so low in your ear makes you shiver and despite you not being ready for another round quite so soon, your hips buck, "Fucking hell, give me a minute," he laughs.

"You're not crushing me, and I'm not ready yet either," you grin into his hairline and kiss his temple.

"Hmm if you say so." He rocks against you, half hard again already, needing to hear the broken little moan that ghosts over his head. "Come on, I want you in a bed this time."

He wasn't happy when you had to tear yourself from his bed at 7am to go home. He wasn't happy when he picked Phoebe up at 8am. He wasn't happy in the drive thru Costa queue at 8.10am. He was happy at 8.20am when he finally got to hand you your coffee and see your smile as you stretched out on the floor of the dance studio. He was perfectly happy knowing that you'd be torturing his Saturday mornings for a while longer.

FIN

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fic #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent imagine #roy kent smut #roy kent x you #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fluff

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aheathen-conceivably · 28 days

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🎶 The night he died, my dad had a dream 🎶

Antoine got home just before midnight, a rare occurrence for him since moving to Strangerville. He had sat with Abe for hours after he took the guitar from him, using rolled tobacco and caffeine to try and ignore the humming that was coming from inside of it even as they talked. He had told himself that he had accepted it for Abe; but he wouldn’t play it. It belonged to another man, and whatever story was inside of it wasn’t his to tell.

Still the moment he got into his own home, now grown dark and quiet as his family had long been asleep, he could still hear it humming. Constantly and consistently, it begged simply to be heard again. He collapsed onto the couch, unwilling to touch the strings but unable to part from it in any way. As he laid it across his lap, his hands hovered near the body so that he wouldn't accidentally draw a single sound from it; because if it did, he knew that it would sound like pain and shared memories that weighed on him at all times.

Unbeknownst to him, Zelda had walked silently down the stairs behind him. She was never able to sleep when he wasn’t there, no matter how exhausting the day might have been. So when she heard his boots in the kitchen she had put her book aside and gone to find him.

Now she stood in the archway as he looked down, seemingly lost in a sight she couldn’t see. She called his name quietly, so as not to startle him, but loud enough so that he turned around. Only even as he looked at her, his eyes were glassy as though trapped in a reverie, and the relief he might have felt seeing her never quite reached his face.

She walked nearer, albeit cautiously, uncertain what had happened or how the guitar she could now see in his lap had gotten there. As she approached, his posture grew more inviting, as though her nearness alone made her more real than whatever reverie was occupying his mind. He moved aside slightly, carefully shifting the guitar as he invited her onto the couch next to him.

Her calm silence seemed to have some effect on him, and he reached one finger out toward the neck of the guitar. Still he avoided the strings, running it up and down the wood grain on the side as he told her everything that Abe had explained to him, about his grandfather and his father, about Chicago and what had happened to the man who had once played the instrument.

As he finished she looked down at it as well, as though she could very clearly see the spirit that haunted Antoine’s mind and inhabited the hollow body of the guitar between them. She reached her hand out and looked toward Antoine before bringing it down, “May I?”

He shook his head yes, although he was unsure if even he had the authority to touch it either, and they both lapsed into silence. Her touch on the shining metal strings was so soft that it barely made a sound, much like her low hum when she sometimes still sang to herself in the fields. She moved her hand down onto the base of the guitar and it let out something that was almost like a soft sigh. Sadly, she laid her palm onto the wood and let it fall back into the quiet state it had been in a moment before.

Then she moved her hand back along the strings and he realized that she was humming in tune with them, singing in the soft but immensely sad way without barely making a sound like only she could.

When she finally spoke it was low, and almost mournful. “What was done to him was horrible, and for that I am so sorry,” her voice paused as she reached the top of the handle, stopping there as though in memory before her hand trailed back down to the base, “But I know that’s not the only thing in here, because you don’t make music only out of pain, you make it out of love too. Out of all the joy and memory that flows alongside the pain. He played to feel it all, to move through it and past it and to make sure others could feel it too, so that even if you don’t speak it, you’re not alone.”

Then she took his hand carefully, holding it tenderly above the strings, “The same way I know you did.”

She turned his hand over in hers, running her thumb along the inside of his palm before flipping it back toward the guitar again. The echoing vibrations that had been coming from them seconds before ceased just as her hums did, as though they were both leaving a quiet space for Antoine to move into as she brought his hand down onto the weathered wood.

She left her own hand atop his for a moment, just so that he knew she would stay there for as long as he needed. When he made no move to pull away from the strings that he had been avoiding so diligently before, she slowly brought her hand to his face and her forehead to his.

They stayed that way for a moment, always able to better sense what the other was feeling without speaking. Antoine’s other hand met Zelda’s on his face, and with a small smile she noticed that the other remained on the guitar.

She moved to stand, understanding when he needed to be alone, and brought her lips to his forehead before looking into his eyes to be sure that he would be okay. Then she treaded out as silently as she had entered, pausing in the doorway as he slowly picked up the guitar from his lap. She stood there to look back at him for a moment, knowing that he was once again trapped in a reverie and wouldn’t notice her presence.

Just before she turned he brought his hands down onto the strings, moving them so that by the time she walked away soft sounds had already begun to follow her back up the stairs. By the time she reached the top they were coming quietly but quickly, and she paused once more to listen to them. It the first music he had played in almost four years.

#1933 #sims 4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 historical #sims 4 decades challenge #the darlingtons #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #sims 4 story #ts4 story #1930s #Antoine Duplanchier #Zelda darlington

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f4ll-for-you · 5 months

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Fade Into You | Rafe Cameron

Rafe x Reader Series Part 1

masterlist

mentions of drug abuse, parent death, addiction, hospitals

You’d spent over a week surrounded by the same four walls. Your pillow was constantly tear-stained and your heart felt like it would never put itself back together.

As a child, you never expected to live a life without a parent, without a mother.

It had been so sudden. She wasn’t well and, within hours, you were in the hospital, being told your mother was gone.

You felt sick, like the world was crashing down on top of you, and that feeling hadn’t stopped for eight days.

Your dad had come to see you once or twice, looking just as bad as you felt. It only took one look into your eyes before he’d make an excuse to leave; he was unable to look at his daughter, a perfect replica of his wife. When he shipped you off to North Carolina, you assumed that was the reason he couldn’t even stand to have you around anymore.

Life had gone from perfect to awful in the space of a month and you hated every second of it. Secretly, you hoped that a change of scenery would help you forget, but if anything it made you feel even more alone.

You were staying with your father’s close friend, Ward, who had visited over the years, always treated you with kindness and that hadn’t changed when you moved in. Rose had tried to care for you, but someone trying to act as a mother figure only hurt more, so you pushed her away.

Ward’s children didn’t think much of you. Wheezie was kind, but young and busy with her own life. Sarah was barely home, basically living on the other side of the island. She made it very clear that she didn’t think much of you. And then there was Rafe - he was the most tiring. At first, he’d barely spoken a word to you, just keeping an eye out for you, like his father had instructed. You quickly grew tired of him following you around without a word, which ended up with you accidentally taking all your pent-up emotions out on him. You shouted and screamed and cried, while he just stood there watching, not even making a move to comfort you. That only made you hate him more.

You’d taken a long walk on the beach to calm down, walking for hours without an end before a familiar scent passed you. You noticed it coming from a shack and made your way towards the figure sitting outside.

You attempted to seem confident as you walked over. frustratingly having no money in your pockets to pay for what you wanted, you hoped you could charm the dark-haired man.

“Hey, mind if I have some?” You asked, sitting down opposite him confidently.

The dark-haired man looked you up and down and smirked. He could see you were a kook. “Rafe's girl,” he commented before handing you the joint.

You tried to hide the shock in your face. Rafe had talked about you? And this guy knew him? “Um, not his girl,” you spoke sourly before bringing the joint to your lips.

The first wave of escape rolled over you moments later, making you instantly crave more. “Do you think I could have one of my own?” You batted your eyelashes.

“Not without money, baby.”

“Rafe will pay you next time he sees you,” you lied, not giving a shit if Rafe got mad at you.t was your best excuse to get what you wanted right now.

“Fine, he better.”

You chatted with the guy, who you now knew was Barry, until the sun set. He offered to drop you off at home on his bike, but you declined, walking back to Figure Eight the same way you came. If you weren’t high, you would’ve been terrified, but right now, you don't care about anything, relishing in the feeling of nothingness.

When you returned to Tanyhill, Rafe was livid. “Where the fuck were you?!” He spoke with a raised voice as soon as you entered.

“Fuck off Rafe,” was all you replied before heading up to your bedroom and locking the door. Not before he noticed your blown pupils and empty expression.

You continued to see Barry every day from then on. You had a mutual agreement, you paid for the drugs and kept him company; he helped you hide from Rafe for a few hours each day.

Barry worked while you chatted away at him, weighing the white powder into small baggies. You couldn’t help yourself when you asked for a line, he was reluctant at first, but you had the money and he was a businessman after all.

Your routine continued for a month unnoticed, you’d told Ward and Rose you’d got a part-time job as a babysitter to give a decent excuse as to why you were out all day. They didn’t question it, just glad you were busy and seemed, on the surface, to be coping with the death of your mother.

Rafe wasn’t so easy to fool. He tried to follow you several times, questioning where you worked, and what the children’s names were. Each time he’d ask about your schedule you accused him of being nosey and he’d tell you he didn’t care as long as you weren’t causing trouble.

As summer turned into autumn, the evenings got darker and your walk home became more difficult. Usually, you were fine in your numb state, but when you’d arrived at Barry’s, he was nowhere to be found.

All you could do was turn back, the repercussions of your addiction making you feel sick and exhausted, barely able to see as you walked.

You felt dazed when you saw headlights approaching, a familiar grumble filled your ears as Rafe's truck slowed down beside you. “Fuck,” you muttered, hurrying your pace as the engine shut off, trying to find another route off the road.

“Y/N?” Rafe asked with a raised voice, trying to hide his confusion and concern.

You needed to run, but you couldn’t. Everything washed over you all at once, your feet remaining glued to the ground as you collapsed. You didn’t realise you were crying until you let out a loud sob and a pair of arms wrapped around you.

Rafe didn’t say anything. In truth, he didn’t know what to say. He knew you weren’t alright and that broke his heart.

The signs had been there for weeks. He knew you were high all the time and he tried to speak to you about it, but as usual, he failed. He tried to convince himself he didn’t care. You were nothing to him and if you wanted to destroy yourself, then he’d let you get on with it. But he couldn’t, not when he knew exactly how you felt. How awful you have to feel to turn to drugs. How losing a parent breaks you in two. He cared about you and he hated it.

thank you to my beta readers @cameronspecial @amiraisgoingthruit @arcielee - ilysm🤍

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe fic #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x y/n #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x smut

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pedgito · 1 year

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Hey! I'm very awkward when it comes to requesting stuff but I'm shooting my idea and if you decide to write it, awesome, if not, I'll still adore you and your work. Anyway, what about a reader that's always been kinda there and around but Eddie never noticed her. Maybe she lives in the trailer park as well and one day Wayne orders Eddie to help out neighbors with something and Eddie gets surprised by her existence or something...

I dunno, I just like the "falling for someone who was already there all the time" trope...

Thanks xx

author’s note: this has full fic potential and i love it, but enjoy what little drabble my brain could handle. <3

cw: sfw, neighbors/meet-cutes, set in 86, reader and eddie run in different circles, wayne is such a dad he can’t help it, this isn’t really fluffy exactly, but it’s very sweet

word count: 2k

Living near the Munson’s had always been, for a better lack of words, eventful. You move in six years prior, the world being ushered into a new era of the 80s, a quaint but rundown neighborhood that looked normal, and a new school to throw yourself into, again—your parents were also never really home.

So, as a result, you’d learn to care for yourself. It wasn’t their fault—things were tough, money needed to be made, and you were at the perfect age to manage keeping yourself alive and fed, regardless if it was done in a justifiable or acceptable manner. And the neighbors were nice—most of them, at least.

You’d learned pretty quickly that it was a place for the older residents of Hawkins, men and women in their late 50s alongside a couple small families—a young woman with a small toddler, another family of four, and right next door; an older gentleman and his son.

You never spoke to him, not once. Wayne, the older man in question, only finally spoke to you when he caught you outside on an early morning taking out the trash, parents having already left for the day.

He worked nights, so he had just come home from a very long shift, a cigarette perched upon his lips. He was nice, polite—but obviously exhausted.

“You alright, kid?” He asks suddenly, though his voice is calm.

He wasn’t oblivious to the fact that you were almost always on your own, driveway empty of cars or even a bike, leaving you chasing down the bus or walking to school most mornings.

You shrug honestly, offering a small smile.

“I’m managing.” You tell him, meaning it. “Thanks for asking.”

After that, it becomes a regular thing. Wayne checks up on you when he can, quick and fleeting conversations in the early mornings when the sun is just starting to come up.

You learn that his son isn’t actually his son, rather his nephew. He’s a couple years older then, trudging his way through the beginnings of a tumultuous freshman year—and you don’t see him often, only by coincidence in the halls where he doesn’t even glance your way.

He’s awkward, tall and lanky, hair in the weird stage of being too long and too short all at once—he’s probably growing it out, you think. It’s a wild next of curls that is nothing a brush couldn’t fix, but it didn’t seem like he owned one. Eddie, that is.

Wayne calls him Edward when he’s mad, coming home too late, being loud when he’s so desperately trying to sleep—you can hear all of it, the walls of your trailer are so thin that nothing is safe.

And life is busy; those six years pass in a breeze, but things are still the same. You’ve never spoken a word to Eddie, your parents are still gone most of the time, if not more now that you’re of age, and Wayne still looks as tired as before, though less buried under the weight of scourging for cash.

Eddie must have some type of job, or something—and he’s extremely loud, always playing with his guitar on the weekends when he’s home, amp placed under the bedroom window adjacent to yours. It’s not like you can really complain, it’s broad daylight, most people are out living their lives, but you’re stuck at home.

He can sing, you’ll give him that. So, it’s not all bad.

He drives too, a clunky piece of junk as Wayne calls it, but to Eddie, it’s his beloved. Wayne almost offers to ask Eddie if he’ll give you lifts to school, but you’re adamant in your refusal.

“I like walking, it’s fine.” You assure him. “I wouldn’t want to bother him.”

“Boy’s like my son, he’ll do it if I ask.” Wayne says, eyes flicking up toward Eddie’s bedroom, his shadow crossing the window. “You two would get along, you know.”

“I dunno,” You disagree, “we don’t exactly run in similar crowds.”

Wayne makes a noise, a small huff of acknowledgment.

“He’s struggling,” Wayne admits, “on his third try at graduating and I’m starting to think it’d be easier to pull him out and help him get his GED.”

You knew that much—Eddie should’ve graduated already, yet he was still stuck at the same lunch table for those following years, preaching to young minds of the susceptible D&D nerds.

“Maybe—“ You agree, but Wayne quickly cuts you off.

“Hey, you’re smart,” Wayne assumes, but he��s seen the textbooks you’ve brought home, levels above the classes Eddie takes, “got good grades?”

“Mostly A’s,” You admit, “m’trying to get into a good college and AP classes look good on paper.”

Wayne thinks for a moment, falling silent as he flicks the ashes away from his cigarette, “Think you can do me a solid?”

And Wayne’s never steered you wrong, even offering you dinner when your parents forget to buy groceries for the week, making sure your belly is just as full as his. He constantly grumbles about how careless you parents were, similar to Eddie’s—you never pried on that matter, feeling like it was none of your business.

“I can try.”

“How do you feel about tutoring Eddie?” He asks curiously, “He’s a good kid, I swear—he just can’t focus for shit.”

“I…don’t know.” You reply wearily, “I don’t think he wants to take that stuff seriously—“

“He does, he does,” Wayne insists, “it’s hard for him to learn in that type of setting, I think he needs the one on one. I understand if you don’t want to, I just think it might be worth tryin’.”

Wayne senses your hesitance.

“I’m sorry for asking, you don’t have to—“

“I will,” You respond quickly, not harping on it any longer, “I mean, I can.”

And maybe this was the biggest mistake you’ve ever made, but you wouldn’t know if you didn’t try.

You knock on the trailer door a couple days later, in the earlier hours on a Saturday morning, a book clutched to your chest and a tired smile on your face—but when the door opens, you’re not met with the same expression.

If anything, it’s surprise that’s riddling his face.

Wayne must not have said anything, which is just as mortifying.

“Who—“ Eddie stops himself, eyeing you carefully, “are you—don’t I have a class with you?”

You nod slowly, “Econ, yeah.”

“How do you know where I live?” Eddie asks, though he doesn’t sound offended, more amused if anything. “Did Dustin put you up to this?”

Henderson was a little shit, you knew that much—but you’d never spoken a word to him either.

“Eddie,” He’s just as shocked you know his name, eyes raking over your carefully, “I live next door.”

Eddie’s brows furrow, door cleaning open to peek at the trailer beside him, gaze quickly flicking back toward you. And suddenly it’s all clicking in his head, though slowly.

“You must be the reason I have to make an extra plate of dinner, right?” Eddie asks with a soft smile.

Whatever earlier assumptions you had about him dissipated into nothing, melted by the grin on his face and the subtle dimple in his cheek.

“It’s not my doing—Wayne worries about me.” You tell him, hoping he’ll understand. “Food’s good though, better than what I could make.”

Eddie widens the door silently, without question really, allowing you to step inside. It’s as barren as it is cluttered, random knick knacks on the shelves, counters, but devoid of trash.

“Wait, holy shit—you’re friend’s with Buckley, aren’t you?”

It’s startling, but you nod. You were—also in band with her, along with a long list of extracurriculars—why that one stood out the most to him, you’d never understand. You weren’t even aware Eddie knew you existed.

“Sort of,” You land on, “We’ve got a lot of classes together.”

And as if you weren’t already taken off-guard, Eddie speaks again.

“You play…trumpet?” He asks, snapping his fingers in celebration when you nod. “And piano?”

“How do you—no one knows that.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, genuinely confused, “I saw you playing a couple months ago—I was on the way to Hellfire and you were by yourself, I thought you were practicing for something—“

“You watched me play?” You ask curiously.

“Yeah, yeah—you’re really fuckin’ good.” Eddie admits, “It’s not really my style but I love music, so—“

And he’s mentally beating himself up over not recognizing you sooner, feeling like a complete ass.

“Well, I don’t know if Wayne told you, but he asked me to help tutor you.” You explain, “I get it you want to kick me out, I’m just trying to do good by your uncle, you know?”

Eddie shrugs carelessly, “We can try, but I’m not promising it’ll help.”

“Are you sure you have the time?” You ask, knowing his weekends were usually occupied by something a lot more distracting and loud. “No guitar practice today?”

Eddie snorts at that, “Shit, yeah—I’m sorry about that.”

“I’ve listened to it for six years, I’m used to it.”

Eddie gawks at that, feeling even worse.

“Hey, it’s fine—I wouldn’t notice me either.”

He smiles slightly, “It’s not that.”

You plead with him silently, following him to the small table tucked in the corner of his trailer, two chairs on either side.

“Kinda thought you were a ghost, honestly—“ Eddie admits, “or just like, figment of my imagination.”

You scrunch your nose in confusion, taking a seat across from him.

“I swear I’ve never seen you around here—that’s mostly my fault, I’m not home often.” Eddie tells you, “but I remembered your face when I’d see you at school, didn’t know your name—I mean, I still don’t but—“

You snort softly, offering him your name with a quiet interjection. He nods knowingly, grin growing wider.

“I feel like an asshole for not realizing you’ve been my neighbor for that long—Wayne always talked about you, kind of in passing, but I never thought anything of it.”

“I’m not offended, Eddie.” You tell him, hoping he’d understand.

And it’s not that Eddie didn’t remember your face, he just couldn’t believe it was real, that you were real. He could’ve sworn you didn’t exist at all, like he’s been making you up in his mind.

“Can we make a deal?” Eddie asks suddenly.

“Depends.” You counter, smile pulling at your face.

“If this works, will you teach me some stuff on the piano?”

Eddie was the definition of never judging someone at first glance, his interesting style contrasting his personality in the best ways. He’s always came off as dark, pensive, similar to his uncle in the way he always had a cigarette between his lips or a scowl on his face.

“If this works—sure.” You agree with ease.

“God, I feel like a total ass.” Eddie admits, slamming his fist against the table softly, “Six years, are you sure?”

“It’s not for lack of trying, Eddie.” You tell him, “If I wanted to be noticed you would’ve known. I’m really good at blending in, unfortunately.”

It still doesn’t change how he feels.

“Besides, you never realize how much people reveal about themselves when they don’t know you’re around.” You add shyly, eyes connecting with him briefly.

Eddie laughs slightly, leaning forward to flip the textbook open.

“We can circle back to that,” Eddie teases, “I won’t forget.”

There’s not a day that passes following where Eddie hasn’t wedged himself into your existence, determined to discover everything that he’s missed out on.

And it’s startling how much you like him, the fact of him being right out of reach for so long—it’s bittersweet.

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#eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson #my writing

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