#Toddler Busy Book | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bluesidez · 7 months ago

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[The Ideal Gaze]

lab tester: @ichigosluvrr 🩻

pairing: DadBod!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

summary: Miguel is feeling a bit out of your league, so you remind him that he’s just in your lane.

content warning: established relationship (they’re married with kids!), domestic fluff, mild hurt/comfort due to Miguel being an idiot that does not understand The Female Gaze, some miscommunication between reader and Miguel, 18+ so MDNI, a little raunchier than I intended tbh but hopefully I presented DB!Mig well, body worship, heated tension, reader is like obsessed with Miguel’s new Dad Bod, deepthroat 😗, missionary position, unprotected p in v sex (WRAP IT UP 🫵🏾), the word Ma as a term of endearment from Miguel to reader two times

word count: 5.3k, halfway proofread

a/n: Fulfilling this first because this was technically my first request! I added a few more elements (thank you Miguel server!), so I hope you don’t mind. There were no specific requests other than fluff and smut, so I went with the flow. I hope you enjoy! (Also, I found the original artist's post here!! Go give them some love!)

Your blood is pumping as you round the corner, only a few more steps until you reach the driveway.

The jog today was pretty refreshing. There were no calls from work asking about things that could wait until 8 AM, no toddler fussing about waking up, and no child whining about getting homework done. It was just you, your FitBit, your steamy audiobook, and the lingering thoughts of meeting your husband’s eyes this morning. Lately, it’s been like a little game to rile him up.

You’ve been married for a few years and a family of four for seven years with a sweet little girl, a second grader with the attitude of an old lady, and a precious little boy, a preschooler with keen intuition. With your lives being consumed with work and taking care of the kids, you feel like your relationship has been put on the back burner. Long gone were the days in which you two made love at the drop of a hat, fucking on anything that could hold you. Now, you were lucky enough to get a little dry humping.

It was getting depressing, and more annoyingly, frustrating, so you started to put your riled-up energy elsewhere. You were up at the crack of dawn making everyone’s lunches and going on occasional jogs, you were using your PTO for brunches with the girls and spa days, you had regular pilates classes, the real pilates, and most importantly, you were finding small pockets of time for yourself.

From buying yourself small gifts to filling your Kindle with romance books to pleasuring yourself on the nights Miguel worked overtime. You were sure to keep yourself busy. All of that, and you still couldn’t get the thought of Miguel entangled with you out of your head.

You heaved out as you stopped at the end of the driveway, taking a few breaths to calm your state. The book you were listening to was on a particularly enthralling scene and you wondered if it was something that Miguel would be interested in trying.

You looked down at yourself and decided to unzip the top of your athletic jacket, letting the tightness of your bra and the fabric push your cleavage up. One smooth swipe of your clothes and you were walking to the front door.

It was 6:40 AM, so there was plenty of time to have a little quiet moment with your husband.

You walked into the kitchen and saw him standing in all of his glory. A newspaper in his left hand, because some things didn’t need to be digitized, a “Best Papá Ever” mug in his right hand, black glasses on his face, and your favorite thing, a naked plush torso on display.

In the first years of parenthood, his metabolism was through the roof. Despite him joining you for every snack, meal, and midnight dessert, he never lost that tiny little waist or those washboard abs. It wasn’t until your youngest was born and babbling that his appearance started to change. His arms became a mix of muscle and cellulite, his thighs were softer than ever, his chest was full and plump, and his waist widened gifting you with his soft belly and a happy trail that continued to his belly button.

The early time didn’t stop the coil of neediness in your stomach from forming.

“Good morning, hubby,” you say with a lilt to your voice. You walked closer to him, an extra bounce in your step, and leaned on the island.

Sure enough, Miguel was peeking at your chest from over his glasses, mug hovering over his lips.

You only smiled coyly, waiting for his response.

“Good morning. How was your jog?” he puts the newspaper and mug down, folding his arms under his chest.

You stared at his bulging arms, pressed-up pecs, and his tummy that moved with him and almost whined.

“It was really good. Super nice and refreshing. Maybe a little warm,” you crossed your legs, impatient. “How’s your morning so far?”

“It’s better,” he says, making the short distance to crowd your space. He leans over you, hands going to the island. “My wife is here now.”

You smile at his words, hands itching to touch him but not wanting to ruin the stride. Instead, you look up at him and pan his lips.

“I’m feeling better, too,” you whisper, waiting.

Miguel leans forward to press his lips onto yours, the smell of coffee hitting your senses. You feel little fireworks go off as he starts to open your mouth. Everything felt just right in this moment.

When his hand slid across your back, you almost jumped up to wrap your legs around him. You tilted your head and wrapped your arms around his neck. You could feel yourself slipping against the counter, but Miguel was right there to steady you.

For what felt like hours to you after so long of a heated connection, the two of you made out on the kitchen island. Only some birds chirping, the occasional car passing by, and the hum of the washing machine could be heard next to the sound of you both breathing into each other’s lips

“Come with me to the shower?” you say, eyes heavy and pleading.

You could feel Miguel tense up, back rigid as he moved back.

“I better stay. Raul might wake up soon and he was having a hard time sleeping last night.”

Your heart dropped at the rejection. You were hoping that this would be the one, the moment that you’ve been anticipating for months. Some form of sexual connection.

“Ok. I’ll be out soon,” you turn and go to the master bathroom, tugging the zipper down hastily. You felt a bit dejected and embarrassed, but you’re trying to let it go. Your mommy side knows that your youngest woke up in distress last night so it makes perfect sense that Miguel wants to be alert for his cries, but your wife side wants her husband back and can’t help but feel like he didn’t want you.

With this brisk shower, you hoped this self-doubt and neediness washed away with it.

You tapped your fingers against the desk, staring off at your computer. Work today was slow, which you didn’t mind because that meant you could frequent your watchlist, but your mind kept wandering off while watching some random K-drama.

Last night, you woke up to what sounded like Miguel getting off in the bathroom.

He got off work super late that day, so you took the initiative to get the kids to bed and go to bed early.

What you didn’t expect was to wake up to the sound of his grunts coming through the bathroom door.

At first, you were a little hurt that he didn’t wake you up to help him out, but then you were so overcome by the sound of him whimpering and moaning that you couldn’t help but pleasure yourself.

He sounded so desperate and wanton, cursing every once in a while. You bit your lip as you imagined him right next to you, voice right in your ear. You wanted his weight on you. You wanted to feel his skin against yours.

You lay in the empty bed rubbing yourself until you came, his noises stopping a while before you finished. You were hoping he would come out and see you so you prolong your orgasm to no avail, sleep coming to claim you before he did.

When you tried to ask him about it in the morning, he kept avoiding your eyes, saying something about his stomach giving him the blues.

You let it go then, but that didn’t stop you from thinking about it all day.

In a spur-of-the-moment decision, you decide to text him a flirty message, running to the bathroom to take a picture to match. You waited a little bit, hoping that he could take at least a peek.

“You look gorgeous, honey.”

Just gorgeous? Not hot? Not good enough to make him want more?

You scrunched your mouth to the side, asking if he could send a picture back.

“Baby, you know I can’t. I’m at work right now.”

You huffed at that. You knew he was just in his lab by himself. There was plenty of time and solitude to take a picture. He used to send random pictures of himself all of the time.

For the rest of the day, you were irritated, feeling slighted at the hands of your husband.

You took a break from trying to seduce your husband, tired of the pushback. You put your all into taking care of the kids and maintaining the house when you could.

“And how many sticks does that leave Cassie with?” you asked Gabriella. You both were at the dining table with her math homework sprawled everywhere while dinner was in the oven.

“27!” she shouted, voice becoming more confident over the course of the math sheet.

“Correct! You’re knocking ‘em out, girl!”

“Buen trabajo, mija,” Miguel said with vigor as he came by to kiss the top of her head. “You’re doing so well.” (Good job, mija.)

“Does this mean I can get a cookie?” she asked, quick to melt her father’s heart.

“Not before dinner, Gabriella, you know this,” Miguel bounced Raul in his arms, a little fussy and sniffly.

“Please, papá!” she looked up at him with big brown eyes and a pout.

Miguel sighed, unable to say no to her 9 times out of 10.

He looked at you frantically, watching you snickering behind your hands, “You have to ask Mamá.”

Whenever he really wanted to say no, he used you as a trump card.

Gabriella’s shoulders drop as she turns to you, already knowing the drill.

“The answer is no. You can wait until after dinner,” you say, squeezing her cheek.

“You always say no,” Gabriella whines dramatically, slumping in her seat with her arms crossed, pout just like her dad’s.

“And you can always go to bed with no cookies,” you chide as you get up to go check on dinner. “Now go put your homework up and wash your hands, dinner is almost ready.”

She puts her papers back in her folder with the theatrics of a Broadway actor, sighing dramatically with each step she took to her room.

Miguel laughed at her actions watching her leave, “She’s just like her Mami when she gets like that. Fussy.”

You pause to put your hand on your hip, “No, she’s just like her Father when she can’t get her way. Whiny.” You open the oven and pull the lasagna out to the stove to cool a bit.

“Well, I can’t say no to her just like I can’t say no to you,” he says, placing Raul at the table with a hand running over his soft hair. “You both have the same puppy-dog eyes.”

“You like leaving the hard parenting to me.”

“That is not true. I just tussled with a four-year-old to get him to take his cold medicine and made a promise of not one, but two bedtime stories,” he says, coming up behind you as you reached to get the dishes. He got them down for you instead, hand on your hips and stomach pressed against your back.

You bite your tongue in order not to will your negligent, horny brain from awakening. You didn’t have time for those thoughts, little feet were near, and every advance you gave him ended in failure.

“Is he doing ok?” you say, referring to Raul he sat at the table with his head down, a teddy bear hugged against him as he pitifully moved his toy car back and forth. It was definitely a big shift from his usual talkative demeanor.

“We might have to go to the doctor again. His allergies are really acting up.”

You leave Miguel’s side to go squat down by Raul, “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

You rubbed his back, trying to see if he felt warmer than usual and sure enough, he was burning up.

“My throat hurts, Mama,” he said, little voice just about gone.

“Oh, I know, my sweet baby,” you say with a soft voice. “Do you want me to make you some alphabet soup?”

Raul’s face twists up, lip a little wobbly, “But I want some cheese noodles.”

“Hey, it’s ok!. You can have some lasagna. I just want your throat to feel better. Hot things will make it feel better.”

“The cheese noodles are hot, too.”

You smiled, “That’s right, the cheese noodles are hot, but I mean a hot liquid.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, hands squeezing his teddy bear as he thought, “Can I have hot chocolate?”

“Of course you can. Can I give you a kiss?”

He nods his head slowly and you lean over to kiss his head. You needed to get him under the covers soon. Before you could pull away, he wrapped his arms around your neck, snuggling up to be held. You couldn’t resist holding your baby, especially when you couldn’t take his pain away.

You get up to see Miguel helping Gabriella plate the slices of lasagna on each plate and setting up the side salad. Your heart filled with joy watching them giggle over the stretchy cheese. It was moments like this that reminded you that you were taking the right steps, that this was the perfect little life.

As they set up the table with the plates and drinks, you kept Raul in your arms, ready to help him with tonight's dinner.

“Thank you for the food, Mommy,” Gabriella said with a toothy smile.

“You’re welcome, baby,” you say, cutting Raul’s food up even smaller, not wanting him to struggle any more than he had to tonight.

The table was quiet, save for Gabriella and Miguel smacking their food occasionally and Raul’s wheezy breaths.

By the time dinner was over, Gabriella was buzzing in her seat for cookies, and Raul was close to falling asleep in your arms.

You couldn’t ask for anything better.

With Raul sound asleep, Gabriella tucked in bed, and Miguel watching cable, you had a moment to yourself to think.

Did today’s small touches mean anything?

You stood in the bathroom moisturizing your skin after a hot bath. You said you were going to stop trying to fish for your husband’s attention, but if you were honest, today’s brief moment of connection did it for you. You couldn’t stop your thoughts once you were alone.

You decide to wear just a pair of panties and one of his old t-shirts to bed: a look that wasn’t trying too hard to get his attention, but you’re sure he’s going to notice it.

You sat on the bed and decided to read until he came into the room. You hope you were giving a sexy girlfriend vibe. Your skin was all smooth, you smelled good, and you knew you looked good.

When Miguel walks in, he pauses at the door to stare at you.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Come to bed,” you say.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Miguel shuffled over, eyeing you from head to toe. He looked delicious in his tank top, fabric stretched in the best possible ways.

He crawled on the bed next to you, “My band t-shirt?”

“Yeah! It’s comfy.”

He rubbed his hand up your naked thigh and your nerves started to sing. Any further up, and you might just wet your panties from his touch alone. You missed it so much.

He leaned over to kiss the juncture your neck and shoulder, your neck, your cheek, and then he stopped.

He just…stopped.

“Well, I gotta go in earlier tomorrow, so I’m going to sleep early. Is it ok if I turn this light off?

You felt your throat dry up, “Yeah, ok.”

He got under the sheets and switched his lamp off, leaving you in the dark with the faint light of your Kindle illuminating the room.

“Goodnight, honey,” he said with a yawn.

“Night.”

You turned your Kindle off and just sat in silence, his snores breaking the illusion of the dark consuming you.

You’re starting to think the worst.

You kept up a number of tactics subtle to glaringly obvious to appeal to your husband from changing up your perfume to what you would say was an amazing strip tease. Absolutely nothing is working.

He kept listing off excuses from the kids to his job to his parents to his brother, anything to avoid an intimate session with you. He even chose a night out with his boys over a night in bed with you which was jarring because he always made you feel good before going out to have a good time.

Did he not find you attractive anymore? You knew childbirth brought a lot of change, but you were still the same woman he met and fell in love with.

Did he not love you anymore? He often praised you for being a good mom and his pet names never stopped, but after that, his declaration of love for you had been very surface-level.

Is he cheating on you?

You really didn’t want to entertain that thought, but your heart couldn’t take any more pain than it already had.

So, one day when you say you’re taking the kids to the park, you drop them off at your mom’s place instead, hoping that if there was something going on, no little hearts would be broken once you unleash a beast in the house.

You pull back in the driveway to see that he’s still here, just as you suspected. You make your way quietly through the house, inching closer to you all’s bedroom.

Your heart almost stops when you hear the sound of Miguel’s voice, high and breathy in a way that should only reach your ears. You don’t think when you swing the door open, adrenaline pumping high.

Miguel yells, scared to death but alone.

“What are you doing?” you ask, voice frustrated.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?”

You look at the state he’s in, shirt up, waistband under his dick, and a mystery fabric in his hand.

“Were you getting off?” you say, hands dropping to your side. “Do you…do you not love me anymore?”

“What?”

“Do you. Not. Love me anymore. You avoid me every time I’ve tried to initiate something with you. We haven’t made love in so long. You keep making excuses to not be alone with me. You don’t even want to do normal things with me like send pictures or makeout until we’re out of breath. I’ve heard you in the bathroom during the night and now you’re here doing the same thing, without me, your wife.” Your eyes start to water after it all, feeling utter defeat.

“Cariño, this is a misunderstanding,” he pleads, voice distraught. “I do love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“Then why are you doing this to me?”

“Because,” he pauses, fixing his clothes to have some decency. “I…haven’t felt the greatest about my body.”

Your tears dry up as soon as the statement resonates, “What? What do you mean?”

Miguel sighs.

“Lately, it’s getting harder and harder for my old clothes to fit me anymore, I’m way too busy to hit the gym and more than anything, I think you deserve a man who’s a little less,” he gestures to himself, “let go.”

“Says who?”

He looks at you as if you’ve grown two heads, “Uh, everybody?”

“Well, who is everybody because I’d like to strangle them for letting you think that my husband isn’t good enough for me.” You walk deeper into the bedroom crowding Miguel’s space. “You’ll always be perfect for me. The vows I promised to you will not be broken over something so normal as weight gain.”

He looked like he could cry.

“Why did you hide you were feeling this way, baby?” you hold his head in your hands scratching at his scalp.

“It felt stupid and silly. You’ve been doing so well socially and physically, I wanted to see if I could fix it on my own before bringing you down with my problems.”

“Miguel O’Hara,” you say, gripping his jaw firmly. “I’m your wife. I might not be able to solve everything, but at the very least, you need to talk to me. Tell me how you’re feeling, express yourself with words. Don’t hide.”

He wrapped his arms around you, sniffling, “I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

You pressed a long kiss into his scalp, rubbing his back.

“Oh my gosh,” you chuckled. “You were feeling so much internally, meanwhile I was practically screaming at you to fuck me. I thought you weren’t attracted to me anymore.”

So much for communication.

Miguel just burried his face in your chest while he groaned, “That’s the thing! You were driving me crazy with your tight little workout clothes and your lingerie. You looked so good, but I couldn’t get out of my own head. I’ve been…”

“You’ve been what?”

“I,” he got red in the face. “I’ve been using your underwear.”

You look down to Miguel’s crumbled up hand and it was in fact your underwear from the night you wore his band t-shirt, drenched in his essence.

Your stomach turned with excitement.

“So this is what you were doing in the bathroom in the middle of the night, hm? Using my panties? Giving them more action and attention than me?”

Miguel nodded, eyes hazy.

“Did it feel good?”

Another nod.

“I bet it did. I would wake up and hear you trying so hard to cum.”

You don’t know how, but his face got even warmer.

“You left your poor wife all alone, thinking about you on top of her until she came too.”

“I did?”

“You didn’t know?” you ask, playfully. “I was up all night imagining you walking out to see me. I wanted these arms to come and hold me.”

You squeeze at his arms on your sides.

“I wanted your weight on me. I wanted your chest against mine.I needed you so bad.”

You move to sit in his lap, knees on the side of him.

“You do such a great job of being a father. This beautiful change in your body is only proof of your hard work and dedication. It’s proof of love for your family.”

Miguel only melted in your hands, face a cloud of emotion.

“I love you, Miguel. I adore you. I yearn for you. I want you.”

With every declaration, came a kiss to his lips.

“Can I show you how much I love you?”

“Please.”

With that, you took his shirt off and made your way down his chest. You lingered around his chest, holding his pecs as you kissed them all over. You couldn’t stop your moans as your tongue felt across the hairy planes of his chest, sucking and pulling on his nipples. Miguel shudders as you pay special attention to them, sensitive after not being with you for so long.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” you breathe into his skin. You slide onto the floor and just press your face into his stomach.

“You like it that much?”

“Love it. You look so yummy walking around. You could be just standing there and I get so,” you cut yourself off, trying not to overwhelm him with just how much you were feeling. “You’re hot, baby.”

You kiss down his happy trail to reach his pants, his stomach twitching. You tugged a bit too hard on his pants, causing him to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” you say with a pout.

“I haven’t seen you like this since we won that couple’s retreat.”

“Not my fault. You were all sexy up there, beating the other husbands with your big brain. It was doing something to me.”

You finished pulling and you could almost cry with joy when Miguel’s cock springs next to your head. The sound you make when you see it also has Miguel wound tight.

Completely taken over by your neediness and desperation, you pull one of his thick legs over your shoulder, kissing and sucking on the skin while your fingertips dance around the entirety of his length.

The display of strength shocks Miguel who drips and whines at your actions.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” he whispers.

You cup him while you take his head in your mouth. It felt like pure bliss to have that familiar taste in your mouth. With the way you were humming, Miguel can tell that you were about to put him to sleep.

You took no time letting your tongue stretch to take more of him in. Your cheeks hollow as you go further, one hand kneading at the thigh you were holding and the other switching from fondling him to wrapping around the base of his length.

“God,” Miguel’s voice filled the room, the loudest it had been for the past few months. “I don’t think I’ll last that long.”

You let go of him and lick down the sides, “That’s because you’re too busy fucking other things instead of me.”

“’M sorry,” he whined as you went back down on him. “I-I was still thinking of you and, ngh, wanting you.”

“Mm hm,” your voice sent shocks down his spine as you didn’t let go. He moved his hips steadily, dick sliding in and out of your mouth and pudge occasionally pressing against your face.

The faster he went, the noisier the sounds got. He moved his hands to your head, thighs eerily close to tightening around your face. You couldn’t have it any better.

You dug your nails into his hips, throat contracting in order to take him in. Even with your jaw slacked, it’s been so long since you took him like this that you gagged more often than not. With every sound of your throat struggling, Miguel shouted your name, hands gripping tighter on your hair.

You could tell he was close by the way his thigh was tensing on your shoulder, so when he said the four words, you took him to the hilt, face completely pressed against him.

“Shit!” he felt like passing out as he released into your throat. You swallowed as much as you could, but you couldn’t take it all, saliva and cum esxaping down your chin to his balls.

He grunts when he pulls you off, chest moving sporadically.

You lick your lips and let out a satisfied sigh, “Finally.”

Miguel could only chuckle as he laid back on the bed. You crawled on top of him, sitting on his thighs with a smile. You rub your hands on the skin of stomach, slowly getting to his chest, “I’m like, really wet right now if you want some more painties to use.”

He growled as he pulled you closer.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the P. “I really want you to do it in front of me. Maybe send me a video for the nights you work overtime.”

He had the nerve to look embarrassed as he wrapped his arms around your back, “I might be able to arrange that.” He kissed your lips to distract you from speaking on it further.

After Miguel returned the favor with his head between your legs, the both of you were enjoying a quiet moment together before having to go pick up the kids.

“I can’t believe you thought I was cheating on you,” Miguel said as you were drawing circles on his chest.

“Miguel,” you say, lifting your head. “I pulled all the stops. I did things that I knew you loved: the t-shirts, going commando, the flirty pictures. I even brought whipped cream to the bedroom and you told me ‘I can’t eat that, it’ll blow up my stomach,’ when you were literally in the kitchen taking shots of it the night before.”

“Ok. So I see how you might have gotten to that ludicrous conclusion, but did you not notice how much I’ve been staring at you?”

You clicked your teeth, “Yeah, but what does that mean when you don’t act on it?”

Miguel twisted his lip, “Will you feel better if I told you that your work pictures turned me on too?”

You pinched him resulting in a yelp, “I’ll feel better right now if you give me a shower round.”

He pulled you in his arms as he got out of the bed, “Let’s go before your mom calls.”

You giggle and swing your feet on the way.

After your afternoon of praising his body, Miguel emerged as his previous confident self. This meant more days with him walking around shirtless, more quickies in the morning, makeouts that ended in pleasure, him smacking your ass, you smacking his ass back, and sex. Lots and lots of sex.

Right now, Raul was down for a nap and Gabriella was enjoying her tablet time.

You, however, were clawing at Miguel’s back like a cat as he pounded you into the mattress.

“Fuck!” you shouted, eyelids fluttering as Miguel’s cock dragged across your walls. “It feels so good.”

“Quiet, mi vida,” he whispered. “The kids are in their rooms.”

You were quick to cover your mouth, moans muffled. It really didn’t matter because the creaks of the bed were just as loud as you. One change in position and the headboard denting the walls could be added to it.

It was all too much.

First, he woke you up with kisses down your body and a promise to lighten your load around the house. Then, he got the kids up and prepared breakfast with the help of Raul. Later while you were out running errands, he sent you a coupon for a spa that just opened up down the street and warm message.

Now, he has you losing your mind with his hips slapping against yours, whispering praises in your ear.

“Miguel!”

“Hm? Talk to me.”

“I-I can’t-” your voice keeps getting louder unintentionally. He was so calm while he was reaching so deep inside. Your mind was hazy, wanting nothing more than him to keep going.

“You’re doing so good, Ma. You’re so good to me and the kids. You’re such a beautiful wife. Such a pretty Mama. Just wanna make you feel good.”

You felt yourself clench around him at his words, tears falling across your temples. He kissed your tears tenderly, strokes getting deeper.

“M-Miguel,” you say with your heart full. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. So, so deeply,”

That was all it took for you to suck him in and scream into his shoulder, nails digging into his shoulder blades. His release was soon after, painting your walls with his lips pressed against your ear.

“Papá! You have to be more careful,” Gabriella fussed with her hands on her hips while Miguel was in the kitchen trying to make the family a snack. “You got hurt at work!”

Miguel paused and reached behind his back, fingers roaming over the healing scratches on his shoulder from his last session with you.

You covered your teeth with your lips as Miguel turned to look at you with his eyebrows raised.

“It’s ok, mija. Papá is tough!”

“But you gotta put something on it,” Gabriella said with a huff.

“Thank you for your concern, nena. I’ll get Mamá to take care of it, ok?” he ruffled her hair as he handed her a plate of bunny-shaped apple slices. “Now go sit with your brother and watch some TV.”

Miguel huffed as he walked up to the side of you with his arms crossed.

“What? You should put your shirt on!”

“That’s not what you said when you-”

“Hush and go get the aloe.”

Miguel snickered as he gave your lips a peck, “Yeah, yeah.”

Life was wonderfully sweet.

With that, my first request is done! As always, like, reblog, and COMMENT. Let me know how you guys feel! 🩵

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erwinsvow · 9 months ago

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oh girl jealous!reader in the kook trio is EVERYTHING i neeed more of her !! she wont be afraid to use jj as her weapon lol and when rafe confronts her shes just nonchalant too like “what do u mean? dont u have a girlfriend to worry about?”

RRRAAAAHHHH I LIVE FOR PETTY READER 🦅🦅

"why the fuck were you talkin' to that fuckin' pogue?" rafe asks, and you push your sunglasses up.

he's still in his golf clothes, clearly having stormed down from the course to find you by the outdoor tables, reading your book after having just sent jj another text.

if rafe wanted to play this game, you knew how to hit him where it hurt. you resist the urge to roll your eyes, setting down your book flat on the table next to your drink, the reason you'd even come out here.

"language, rafe. there's a toddler right over there."

"i don't fuckin' care. why the fuck were-"

"i talking to that pogue? yeah, i heard you the first time." you pick up your lemonade, taking another sip. "it's not really your business."

you look up at your best friend, as angry as you've ever seen him. you hold back a smirk since your plan worked.

"i got fuckin' top tellin' me he saw you at the beach with maybank? are you fuckin' joking?"

"top has a big mouth. he should have kept it shut."

telling topper you were sensing a spark between you and jj had been the smartest thing you'd done this entire time you'd been pursuing rafe. you knew he'd go run and tell rafe the second he saw you and the blond pogue boy walking around town together.

"kid, i swear to fuckin' god, if you go near that pogue again-"

"why do you care? don't you have your own girlfriend to worry about?" rafe looks a little dumbfounded—mission accomplished. "that's what i thought. so you worry about her, and i'll worry about jayj, okay? nice talking, rafe. see you on the course."

you take your book and walk away, leaving rafe standing behind you. your phone buzzes with a text from jj.

jayj: u free tonight?

you text back yes before you can think twice about it.

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harryspet · 6 months ago

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homestead [4] r.cameron

[warnings] dark!rafe cameron x pregnant!reader, farmer!rafe, pogue!reader, jj maybank x reader, kidnapping, DUBCON, little editing,READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: Pls reblog and let me know what you think!

word count: 3.6k

In which you can't escape from your inner turmoil, even in your dreams.

homestead masterlist

Tending to the entire house was hard work. You thought you’d be bored sooner than you actually ended up. It seemed there was always more to do with all the cooking you were doing and the laundry that Rafe went through. Sometimes, you imagined adding the demands of feeding a newborn every few hours or chasing a toddler around to your already packed routine. The thought was daunting, but you had signed up for it, knowing it would be difficult yet now you were relieved you wouldn’t be financially struggling through it.

Your growing belly had started to interfere with your daily chores. It was harder to breathe when you exerted yourself, and frequent trips to the bathroom were now the norm. Rafe never complained when the house wasn't perfect, but you knew it was because he was trying to regain your trust after losing control in the nursery. He wanted you to come to him willingly, but you weren’t mentally ready for that. When Rafe did touch you, he restrained his darker impulses, and while you never enthusiastically said “yes,” you found yourself denying him less and less.

When Rafe started leaving his bedroom unlocked, you knew it was safe to start cleaning it. You mostly used this time to snoop around. You weren’t sure what contact he kept with the outside world. He made sure you weren’t privy to the details of his business, and he never called his family when you were around.

His room was like yours in many ways, yet distinctly different. You felt a more masculine presence than the rest of the farmhouse. The walls were a deep charcoal gray, and the bed had a thick, woolen blanket that looked inviting enough, but the large wooden bed frame was imposing. Heavy, dark curtains framed the windows on either side of the bed, and there was a seating area on one side of the room with a leather armchair next to a couple of shelves containing a few trinkets and books. Rafe’s closet contained your most considerable curiosity, a substantial black safe.

The way Rafe opened the house to you was purposeful, he wanted you to feel welcome here, but he couldn’t deny he had secrets. You knew at least a few of those secrets were inside that safe.

Every time you went inside the closet to put away Rafe’s laundry or organize his clothes, you thought about the years that had passed and everything you didn’t know about him. You were in one of those moments, standing in Rafe’s closet, when you heard the shower start in the connecting room. Rafe had appeared from an afternoon in the fields. You weren’t sure if he hadn’t realized you were there, but he’d already started undressing, his chiseled frame glistening with sweat and dirt.

“Hey,” You whispered, not wanting to startle him, but he was already grinning at the sight of you.

“Hey, Honey,” He started to undo his belt, and you felt trapped, most of his figure blocking the view of the bathroom doorway, “How you doing?”

You shrugged like you usually did, “Fine, I was just …hanging up your dress shirts.”

“Nice,” He slid off his pants, and you weren’t sure why you didn’t avert your eyes; maybe because you felt yourself starved from any other human connection expect Rafe’s, “I’ll be gone for longer than usual tomorrow.”

“Cameron Development business?”

He didn’t confirm nor deny, “You mind picking out my clothes? You have a better eye for colors and stuff, you know?”

“Sure,” You took that as your opportunity to stop staring at the figure that seemed to be growing even more pristine as the manual labor toned his muscles. You resented it slightly, feeling less and less like yourself as your child grew inside of you.

The closet was a strange mix of outdoor clothing and high-end suits, a signal of the true duality of Rafe’s life. Thanks to you, it was more organized now, and you spent time scanning the rows of clothes. You chose a tailored navy suit, thinking of his muscular build and the deep blue of his eyes. You paired it with a crisp, white dress shirt and a tie with a subtle, sophisticated pattern of navy and silver. Completing the look, you picked out his polished, black leather dress shoes and matching belt.

You hadn’t realized just how much time you spent mulling it over. As soon as you laid it out on top of the closet’s chaise lounge chair, Rafe stood beside you with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“I’m impressed,” He said, leaning over to peck your cheek.

“Thanks.”

“Stay with me in my room tonight,” Rafe said, his fingers trailing down from your shoulder to your arm. He moved in closer, leaning down to kiss below your ear, “Missed you all day.”

“Rafe,” You sighed as he placed a kiss lower on your neck. In saying his name, you said a million different things. It was a warning that you might resist, that you loved his touch but hated how much you did.

“I gave you your own space because of your …condition. But after the baby comes, this is going to become our room. I want you to get comfortable here.”

Again, it felt like he was asking the world of you. You imagined laying next to him night after night and him rolling over, taking what he wanted from you anytime he liked. When you thought about it for a moment longer, it wasn’t much different than how things were now.

“I…I wanted to ask you something,” You placed a hand on his chest and he placed his larger one over yours.

“Yeah?”

“Now that I’m in my third trimester, I’ve been thinking more about, you know, giving birth,” You found it hard to meet his eyes, but you did your best, especially as they started to narrow at you, “With me being here, I guess I don’t know what my plan is anymore.”

“Don’t worry, Honey,” Rafe said, “You think I don’t have a plan?”

“I didn’t know how far we were from the hospital-”

You felt his heart quicken underneath your touch, “A hospital is like, not even Plan C, it’s Plan E. You’ll do it here. People do home births all the time.”

Your face fell quickly, and you pulled your hand from him, “You’re not serious.”

“I’ve been doing my research. As long as we have the proper people involved and the right equipment, it can work!”

“It’s my first pregnancy, Rafe! I want a real hospital with lots of nurses and a real doctor. I want an epidural, and I want my baby to have immediate medical care if he needs it. You’re crazy!”

“It’s not happening.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You cursed, your temper flaring. He grabbed your wrist, keeping you from stepping away, “Get away from me!”

“Calm down,” Rafe grabbed both of your arms, pinning you in front of him, “This is why I didn’t fucking bring it up.”

“Let go of me,” You gritted your teeth, “Please.”

“You have to trust me. I can handle this.”

“I don’t want you … I don’t want just you to handle everything,” you replied, trying to find your calm, knowing you might set him off pretty soon. “Please, just—we have to be able to discuss this more. If you need reassurance that I won’t run or tell anyone what happened, then I will do whatever. I care about the baby more than myself.”

“I wouldn’t put you or the baby in harm's way.”

“I know,” you lied.

“Then don’t imply that I would.”

“Can you just be open-minded about this?”

His eyes held a lot of emotions, but he nodded. As if each of you were frightened of escalating each other further, you pulled away from each other.

“I want to sleep in my bed; I toss and turn so much, and my pillow-”

“Go ahead, I don’t give a shit,” Rafe crossed his arms, giving in so quickly that your eyes widened in shock. You didn’t waste the opportunity, scurrying off as quickly as your legs would take you.

You didn’t see Rafe for the rest of that night and were grateful he wasn’t around the next day, either.

“I like the name Kai,” you said, looking up, your head resting on top of someone’s warm lap, feeling the sun for the first time in a long time. “It means sea in Hawaiian. If they grow up here, they have to like the ocean.”

“I was thinking something edgier,” you heard JJ say, his gaze also moving toward the beautiful sky above. Lush, rolling fields surrounding you, “Maybe like Talon or Blaze? Something cool so, you know, the other kids don’t pick on ‘em.”

“No way,” She shook your head, giggling, “That is exactly the type of kid someone would pick on.”

“Fine …Kai. I don’t dislike it,” JJ seemed to ponder the name longer,.

You sat up from his lap, finally gazing at your handsome boyfriend. “I like it. We don’t have to pick one now, but … I’m just saying.”

The two of you were sitting on top of a plaid blanket you didn’t recognize, and you didn’t recognize what part of The Cut you were in, either. JJ must’ve surprised you for a date. A cheap picnic was always up his aisle, and you never cared for fancy dates.

“I still can’t believe there’s going to be a little Maybank,” you said, reaching out to touch his blonde, windswept hair. “I mean, I already love him. It makes me think my Dad must’ve never felt this way about me.”

He touched your bump, and you felt like you were filled with happiness. Everything was right. Things would be challenging, but at least you’d have each other.

“My parents, too,” the words were solemn, but you felt the opposite, “It’s their loss.”

Neither of you had the families you deserved, but you could provide that happiness to Kai . . . or whatever name ended up suiting your angel.

“Picking a name is hard. What if we look at him, and he just doesn’t match the one we chose?” You wondered.

“Then we change it. He could have no name for all I care. As long as he’s healthy.”

You brought your lips to his and melted into him. Strong arms wrapped around your back as he deepened the kiss further. You were at home.

When you opened your eyes again, breathless from the kiss, you knew you weren’t home at all. Tears filled JJ’s ocean eyes and the sky turned a darker blue.

“Have you asked Rafe what he thinks about the baby’s name?”

“Wha-” Your lips parted, the air growing from warm to humid. A storm was brewing above that field of flowers. Now that you glanced around, those flowers were just weeds.

“You should ask him.”

“Why would I ask Rafe, JJ?”

“Why not? He won. He gets you. He gets the baby.”

“He didn’t win. I just …” It came to you then. JJ never got to feel your pregnant belly. He never knew you were having a boy. How could you feel connected to him from behind the glass in the visiting room? “I-I’m going to figure this out.”

“You’re giving in.”

“I’m not!” You pushed at his chest, but he didn’t budge.

“You should’ve never let him in.”

“I’m sorry,” You were crying now, “I-I was so lonely, and… you left me!”

He turned his head, and you felt the rain starting to fall, “You’ll forget about me soon enough. He’ll never know me.”

“Please, you have to find us.” The words left your lips just as lightning struck.

You screamed yourself awake.

You pushed around the baby potatoes on your plate, sitting across from Rafe at the dinner table. This entire week, you’d been struggling with eating. You felt the baby resting so high that you felt full quicker than expected. It didn’t help that you were facing the reality of giving birth inside this house and possibly never seeing the outside world again.

You wanted nothing more than to meet your baby, but you felt yourself growing more complacent as your time here and the pregnancy went along. Realistically, how far could you get now that you were this pregnant? And how could you leave with a newborn?

“Is the baby moving a lot?” Rafe brought a piece of steak to his mouth, watching you intently as you played with your food.

“Yeah … a little too much.”

“Hey, an active baby is a healthy one.”

You wanted to roll your eyes, “You read that in one of your parenting books?”

He winked at you, “Yes, I did.”

“I’m glad you know everything now.”

“You’d know more if you spent some of your free time reading. You haven’t touched a single one.”

“I’m exhausted lately, but thanks.”

Rafe nodded, “Well, makes sense; your body is changing so much. I should stay home more so I can take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself,” You said quickly.

His fork and knife clanged against his plate as he placed them down. He leaned forward, eyes gazing sharply at you, “What’s gotten into you lately?”

“Rafe, don’t,” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes now.

“I’m serious …did I do something? Things have been going good.”

You went silent, “Can I be excused?”

“You cannot,” his fist slammed down on the table, making you jump. “I had our whole night planned out, starting with dinner. So you’ll finish dinner with me, we will go on a walk, and then stay in my bed tonight.”

“I don’t feel-”

“I don’t care. I don’t ask too much of you,” Rafe interrupted, “If you can act a little bit more pleasant, I’ll still give you the surprise I was planning.”

“A surprise?”

“You’re going to regret acting like a brat when you see it.”

Your mouth parted in shock, but his deadly look had you crossing your arms and sitting back silently in your chair.

Rafe’s hands were intertwined with yours as you walked down an unfamiliar winding path. Cicadas had begun chirping, and the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the property. This was only the third time you’d physically left the house, Rafe allowing you earlier in your pregnancy to follow him around to meet all of the animals.

Now, due to your swollen feet, you didn’t fit into the work overalls Rafe purchased for you or the boots. You walked in silence for the most part, imagining that Rafe was stewing with anger after your behavior at dinner. You cared little that you’d upset him; your mind was focused on repressing the nightmares you’d be having about JJ.

After a few minutes, you arrived at a small, fenced-in area near one of the barns. Your curiosity was piqued when you saw a little pen set up in the middle of the grassy area. Inside was a bundle of fur that wiggled and barked excitedly as you approached.

“C’mere, Honey,” He pulled you closer to the pin. The small dog was a golden brown color with long, shaggy ears, and you noticed a red gift bow tied around its neck.

“A puppy?” You asked, leaning forward. The puppy stood up on its hind legs, and bounded over the pen's edge, tail wagging furiously.

“She’s cute, right?” Rafe scooped the puppy quickly into its arms.

“You bought a puppy,” you couldn’t help yourself, starting to pet its soft fur as Rafe held her close. “This is the surprise?”

“Part of it,” Rafe smiled, “You could use more company.”

You couldn’t help but notice that your lips started to pull into a smile as the puppy tilted its head closer to you, licking at your cheek, “Oh … look at her,” You said, your heart swelling. Rafe had successfully subverted your expectations. Who were you to deny the cutest animal you’d ever seen? You should welcome any happiness your new world wanted to bring you, no matter how much regret JJ made you feel in your dreams, “You didn’t have to…”

“I want you to have her. She’s a cocker spaniel. Guy who sold her to me said they’re good with kids.”

“I love her,” You spoke honestly, scratching behind her ears.

“Look at her collar,” He gave you a suspicious look.

“Why?”

“Just look,” You hesitated but couldn’t imagine him playing a trick on you right now.

After spinning the tiny collar around her neck, you found the second part of your surprise. Hanging on its collar was a ring with a gold band an a huge, oval-shaped diamond. You inspected it closer, not meeting Rafe’s eyes. Your heart was beating way too fast to look at him. You knew little about engagement rings, but you knew what you were looking at would be considered top-tier.

“Here,” he said, placing the puppy back down in the pin and maneuvering its collar to free the ring. He held it out to you, and as you stood there, frozen, he took your hand. You didn’t pull away as he eased it onto your left ring finger, “I know we can’t have a traditional ceremony, but I just thought you might think this was special.”

Your lips parted, but Rafe shushed you, “You don’t have to say anything.”

Rafe’s eyes searched yours, waiting for any sign of acceptance. You looked down, the diamond catching the light of the setting sun.

“Let’s bring her inside,” Rafe suggested after a long moment. You nodded, and he leaned over to kiss your forehead before lifting the puppy again.

Rafe led you back to the house, and his words echoed in your head. What had he done to deserve your attitude? Things were going well. In exchange for caring for the house, you relax in a comfortable environment where your baby can grow peacefully. He’d bought you a gorgeous ring and a puppy to discourage your loneliness. Maybe you were just wholly ungrateful.

You helped Rafe set up an area for her in the living room.

“She’s gonna need a name.”

“What do you think?” You asked him quietly.

You resisted the idea of naming your baby without JJ, but maybe you could share this intimate, normal thing with Rafe.

He propped his fist underneath his chin, thinking, and stared down at the dog, “Are you opposed to a human name?”

“I’m not opposed to anything.”

He seemed a bit surprised by your reaction, but he continued his thinking pose.

“She’s gonna be really sweet, I can already tell. To me, she looks like a Lucy or like a Molly.”

“Molly is cute. Classic sounding,” You nodded, leaning down to pet her, “You’re so adorable. You need wittle pink hairbows, don’t you, Molly?”

You heard him chuckle at your high-pitched tone, “It’s settled then. Welcome to the family, Molly.”

As the evening progressed and after you got plenty of puppy cuddles, Rafe escorted you upstairs. The atmosphere was different than the last time you were together there. It was softer and more intimate. He helped you out of your clothes, gentle and considerate of your bump. You didn’t let yourself overthink any longer for the night.

Your body was so much different from when he first brought you here, yet Rafe’s eyes were hungrier than ever. You couldn’t feel vulnerable for too long because soon he was naked too and pressed against you. The touching, soothing words in your ear and the gentle hands on your belly were almost too much.

When the time came, Rafe guided you on top of him. He kept you steady, supporting your body with his strong hands as you straddled his lap. That night, you controlled the pace, and the position allowed you to ease the discomfort your belly caused. He watched you like a fine painting hanging in a museum, and his hands never left your hips.

“Take your time,” He grunted huskily, “You’re doing so good, Honey.”

You loved the praise. You basked in his words and his gaze. You wanted to feel like you were doing the right thing, that you would be a good Mom, and Rafe was always there to confirm that. Your head rolled back, lips parting, as your movements became more frantic and rapid.

You lost your rhythm, the intensity bringing tears to your eyes.

“Good girl, Honey,” As you grew tired, Rafe moved your hips for you. Hands pressing into his thick chest, you whined, feeling him in the deepest parts of you, “Give Daddy all of it.”

“Fuck, Rafe!” You cursed, shaking, and he groaned in response, “I’m coming.”

He moved your hips faster, the grinding motion sending you over the cliff towards your orgasm. You felt yourself tightening around him, and like a chain reaction, Rafe’s eyes closed tightly as his orgasm came, “Jesus, baby,” Hands still tight on your hips, he finished deep inside of you, but you’d reached the point of overstimulation now.

You climbed off of him, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. He caught you in his arms, pressing his body into yours, “Thank you,” You heard him say in your ear, his voice raw with emotion, “Fuck, I love you so much.”

You nestled into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours and the soft sheets beneath you. When you drifted off to sleep, you saw no raging storms, felt no overwhelming guilt, and JJ never appeared. For the first time in a long while, you slept peacefully, cocooned in the safety of Rafe’s love.

A/N: Pls reblog and let me know what you think!

#dark fic #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x black!reader #outer banks smut #black!reader #obx fic #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader

773 notes · View notes

jjscrybaby · 13 days ago

Text

no one hurts you.

rafe cameron x fem!reader | angst | (attempted sa, murder, rafe being the best bf ever🥰)

thankyou for the req anon! i switched some stuff up, i didn’t want to add a new character (rafe’s brother like you requested) so i used topper instead bc i hate that man🙂‍↕️

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

“Do you have to go?” You huffed, pouting up at your boyfriend as the two of you stood by the front door. You were covering it, arms crossed over your chest to try and stop him from going.

Rafe let out an amused chuckle, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. “It’s just a night, baby. We’ve spent longer apart.”

“Yeah, and when you came back you promised never to leave me again,” you whined, stomping your foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum. He just carried on smirking down at you, used to your behaviour after three years together.

You’d stuck by his side through everything. He got locked up, for four months after an incident with a Pogue. It was supposed to be three years, but a mixture of good behaviour and a lot of payments had him out early. It had been six months since he got out, and he’d matured incredibly. He didn’t pick fights anymore, he hadn’t touched a line of coke since before jail, and he was finally working a proper job rather than doing drug deals for Barry. You were utterly proud of him, until now.

He had a business meeting on the mainland, and he’d decided to book a hotel for the night so that he didn’t have to travel twice in one day. You were definitely unhappy with that decision, considering you hadn’t spent a second away from him since he came back home.

“Look, you’re gonna be fine. Top’s gonna come over later to hang out, and I’ll call you after the meeting. Now be a good girl and stop pouting, if this deal goes well I’ll buy you that necklace you keep lookin’ at,” he stated, making your pout vanish.

You grinned up at him, nodding your head. “Mkay. Promise you’ll call?”

“Promise,” he murmured, leaning down to press a loving kiss to your lips. You tried to keep ahold of his shoulders to stop him from pulling away, but he just smirked and eased you off of him. “See you tomorrow, gorgeous.”

“Bye,” you mumbled, another pout appearing on your lips as you realised he was actually leaving.

He patted your cheek, giving you one more fleeting kiss before he walked out the door. You didn’t move from the doorway until he’d got into the car and driven away, waving at you as he went.

You spent the majority of the day trying to distract yourself, watching rom-coms, cleaning up the house, making dinner. It was six pm when the doorbell rang, you’d honestly forgotten that Topper was coming over so when you opened the door to see him stood with a bottle of wine and a six-pack you were shocked.

“Oh, hey, Top,” you greeted, moving out the way to let him in. “You didn’t actually have to come, I’m okay by myself.”

“Rafe wanted me to stop by,” Topper shrugged, giving you a charming smile as he walked further into the home that you and Rafe had recently purchased (or Rafe had purchased and you just came along). “I can leave, if you don’t want me here.”

“No, no. The company would be nice.” It was the truth, you weren’t used to being alone and you’d started to go a little crazy with the amount of movies you’d watched.

Topper had been Rafe’s good friend for awhile, but since Rafe got out of jail and became a better man they didn’t hang out as much. Topper was still pretty immature, partying as much as he possibly could, hooking up with random chicks and texting Rafe details he didn’t need to know. He was also still big on the drug use, and Rafe knew he couldn’t be around that. But, no matter what, they were close friends, and he trusted him to take care of you.

“Cool. I brought you some wine, know you aren’t a huge fan of beer,” he teased, holding the bottle out to you.

You tilted your head, accepting it with a cautious smile. “Didn’t realise we would be drinking.”

“Yeah, well, I figured you’re probably grumpy with Rafe gone and a drink could loosen you up.” He winked, trying to portray his words as a joke, but something about his tone made your chest tighten uncomfortably.

“Right,” you agreed with an awkward laugh. “Um, we can sit in the living room.”

You’d poured yourself a glass of wine, but you’d only had a few sips. Topper, on the other hand, had finished five out of six of the beers. You’d started off on opposite sides of the couch, but over the last half an hour he’d slowly edged his way closer to you. You’d noticed it, of course you had, but you were trying not to think anything of it. He was Rafe’s friend, he was here as a favour, you felt guilty for feeling so uncomfortable around him.

“I like that skirt,” Topper murmured, hazy eyes looking your outfit up and down.

“Um, thanks. Rafe got it for me,” you said, tugging it down as you noticed it had ridden up.

Topper’s fingers brushed against your skirt, your whole body tensed up. “It’s nice.”

“Thankyou,” you replied, trying to move away from him without it being noticeable. Except that was impossible, and he picked up on it immediately.

“Somethin’ wrong?” He asked, tilting his head to the side as he faced you. You shook your head, giving him a shaky smile. “C’mon, have some more wine.”

You didn’t want more wine, you wanted to kick him out and go to bed, but he’d come all the way here, and he’d paid for the bottle, you felt rude to not drink it. You reached for your glass and took a few more sips, his eyes watching your every move.

“There we go,” Topper grinned as the last sip went down your throat, you grimaced at the sour taste and put the glass back down on the coffee table.

Another twenty minutes went by, Rafe’s meeting would be over soon and he’d promised to call. You wanted Topper out by then, so you could have a conversation without feeling like a bad hostess. You turned to him, noticing how his eyes were already on you.

“Um, it’s getting late…” you hinted, messing with your necklace.

“I thought maybe I could stay over.” Your eyes widened at his words, you were certain Rafe wouldn’t have suggested that. Him being here for an hour or two was fine, but for the night? You didn’t want that, and you were sure your boyfriend wouldn’t either.

Before you could even respond, his hand landed on your thigh. Your words got caught in your throat, heart racing with anxiety as you stared down at his hand. His rings were cold against your skin, his thumb starting to rub circles into your inner thigh as he edged his hand higher and higher.

You jumped up, staring at him like he’d lost his mind. “I think you should leave now, Topper.”

“What?” He laughed, looking up at you as if it was you that had done something wrong. “Seriously? I’m not going to tell Rafe, a’ight? You don’t need to worry about that.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You exclaimed.

Topper stood up, towering over you with a scowl on his face. “Stop acting dumb. I know how you feel about me, I’ve seen the looks. I mean, shit, wearing that tiny skirt when you knew I was coming over.”

“I— I forgot you were coming, Top. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but I’m happy with Rafe—” you started to ramble, hands growing sweaty.

“Bullshit!” Topper snapped, glaring down at you. “You want me, I know you do.” His hands landed on your hips, gripping so tightly you were sure it would leave a mark. You shoved at his chest, but he didn’t move. He leant down and tried to kiss you, which had you using all your strength to pull out of his embrace and rush out the room.

You ran all the way upstairs, to your shared bedroom with Rafe, and locked the door behind you. You sat by the window, breathing heavily with tears down your cheeks as you waited to see him leave. After twenty minutes of him yelling at you through the locked door, he finally departed. It was only once he was out of sight that you ran downstairs and locked all the doors and windows.

Rafe called you as you were pacing the bedroom, you couldn’t bring yourself to pick up.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

It didn’t take a genius to notice you were acting off. It had been a week since Rafe returned, and you’d been jumpy, flinching every time he leaned down to kiss you, pushing him away when he’d try and initiate something, anything.

He was sick of it. At first he’d thought you were just being a brat because he’d left, figured you’d be back in his arms by the next day, but nothing had changed and he was starting to feel as if you weren’t even his girlfriend anymore.

“You comin’ to bed?” He asked, looking at where you sat on the opposite side of the couch; eyes hardly open as you stared at the tv.

“After this episode. You can go,” you mumbled. It was the same every night, you’d wait until he was asleep to crawl into bed even when you were falling asleep.

“Alright, enough of this shit,” he snapped, making you look over at him in surprise.

“What?”

“Why are you actin’ like this? Did I do somethin’?” He asked, begged, for an answer. You opened your mouth to answer, but all that came out was a choked sob. His anger faded and was replaced with panic, he moved so he was sat right up next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Baby, just talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t,” you argued through a sob, covering your face with your hands.

He pulled your hands away, hands on your face to force you to look at him. “Yes, you can. You can tell me anything. Just tell me what the problem is and I’ll fix it, okay? I’m worried, baby. You’ve been bein’ so weird the last week.”

You thought you’d be able to get over it, thought maybe it wouldn’t bother you all that much, but every time you took a second to think you’d be reminded of what happened. Topper’s hands on your hips, the look in his eyes as he leaned down to kiss you. You didn’t want to tell Rafe, what if he was mad at you? What if he believed that you really had given Topper signs?

“Something happened when you were away,” you whispered shakily, big tears running down your cheeks. You couldn’t keep it to yourself anymore, you had to tell him.

“What happened?” He murmured softly, stroking his thumb over your cheekbone.

“When— when Topper came ‘round, he…” you trailed off, shaking your head. “I can’t say it.”

His eyes narrowed, fear taking over. “What did Topper do?” His tone wasn’t soft anymore, it was angry, dark, you hadn’t seen that look in his eyes since before he went to jail.

“He… he was touchy, too touchy, he tried to kiss me,” you confessed, feeling both relief and panic at the fact you’d finally told him the truth. “He was saying loads of stuff, about how he’s seen the way I look at him and that he knew I liked him. I promise, Rafe, I don’t know what he’s talking—”

“Hey,” Rafe cut you off, tone sharp. “Non of this is your fault, you hear me? I’m not mad at you, I’m not disappointed in you, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

A sigh of relief left your lips as you collapsed into his chest, sobbing as you clung to him. He stroked your hair, mumbling praise into your ear to try and calm you down. Eventually, you exhausted yourself so much that you fell asleep against his chest. He lifted you up and carried you to bed, but instead of getting in beside you he grabbed his gun from the bedside table and left the house.

︶︶�� ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

When you woke up the next morning the space beside you was empty. Your head hurt from all the crying you’d done, your eyes felt heavy but you forced yourself out of bed. You walked downstairs, finding Rafe sat at the kitchen counter with an unfamiliar phone in his hand.

“Rafe?” You murmured tiredly, moving to stand next to him. He looked up at you, bags under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept a wink. His arm wrapped around your waist, tugging you into his lap.

“Hey, you sleep okay?” He asked softly, kissing your temple as he kept his eyes on the phone.

“Yeah… what’re you doing up?” You questioned. There was a look in his eyes, manic and angry. You ran your hand over his cheek, making his eyes flicker over to you.

“Listen, baby, I need you to do somethin’ for me. Somethin’ I promised you’d never have to do again,” he sighed.

“What is it?” You asked worriedly.

“If anyone asks, I was here, with you, all of last night,” he stated, making your eyes narrow in confusion.

“Were you not here all night?” You stared at him, waiting for him to give you an explanation.

He didn’t get the chance, because the next thing you know your phone is pinging with a text from Sarah. Have you heard the news about Topper? Followed by: is Rafe okay?

“Rafe, what happened to Topper?” You asked shakily, looking between him and your phone.

“He got what he deserved,” Rafe replied bluntly. He leant in a kissed your cheek. “I’m sorry, baby. I took it too far, I know that. But no one hurts you, no one.”

You should have been horrified, running from him or calling the cops, but you didn’t want to do either of those things. You leant in and pressed your lips to his, his arms around you tightening.

It was no secret that Rafe would kill for you, you just never thought it would actually happen.

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #outer banks #obx #obx fic

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pedrospatch · 1 year ago

Text

safe and sound

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: Your daughter has a nightmare—her daddy makes it all better.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. slight canon age deviations (Joel is 56, Ellie is 17) READER’S AGE IS NOT SPECIFIED. she’s a child bearing adult woman so do with that information what you will. established relationship, reader and Joel have a toddler (her age is not specified in fic but she’s 3 ish years old), reader has NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION and neither does their child except she has Joel’s eyes and his dark curls, no mentions of her skintone. Joel and Ellie are fine bc he deserves it, Joel’s an overprotective girl dad, reader is the chill parent. implications of a toddler being told about clickers, bad dreams, almost smut, Joel and reader get cockblocked, SOFT Joel who comforts his babygirl, mention of Sarah towards the end. very minimal editing.

word count: 2.3k

a/n: listen, i love me some daddy joel but tonight i needed a bit of actual daddy joel. this was whipped up last minute bc i haven’t had the best weekend and needed some comfort. also i didn’t have the mental capacity or energy to come up with a moodboard, so gif it is.

Joel looks down at the old, worn book in his hand.

Winnie the Pooh.

He never would have imagined it. This.

Reading a bedtime story to a toddler. His toddler.

He’s in his fifties—he shouldn’t have a toddler.

He shouldn’t have a teenager, either.

Yet, he has both.

The toddler has his blood, the teenager doesn’t.

But that doesn’t matter to him.

Joel still considers her to be his own kid.

Only, she’s not a kid anymore, not really.

She’s seventeen now. She doesn’t need him much anymore, not the way that his toddler needs him.

“Ellie’s not coming home tonight,” you’d said from where you stood at the stove, stirring in chunks of potato and chopped carrots into the pot of stew in front of you. “There’s a birthday party down at the bar. She’s going with Dina and Jesse.” You can feel the look of disapproval on his face and add, “I said she could go, Joel. She asked me permission.”

“She didn’t ask me,” he’d gruffed. He looked down at the little girl sitting in his lap, scribbling away on an old state map. He had given it to her along with the pack of crayons he’d found during patrol when his group stumbled across a schoolhouse. Though crumbling on the outside, the inside had remained untouched throughout the last two decades—little coats hanging over the back of little chairs, papers scattered all over little desks, little lunch boxes still stored in their cubbies at the back of the room. He instructed the group to search for anything useful, anything that Jackson’s teachers could use for the children in their classrooms. Joel knew that taking without trading was against the rules, but that did nothing to stop him from secretly slipping the box of crayons into his jacket pocket when no one had been looking.

His daughter’s squeals of delight when he’d gifted them to her had been well worth the theft.

“Because she knew you’d say no to her.”

“I would have. Kid’s got no business going to a bar at her age. She’s fuckin’ seventeen years ol—”

The little girl had gasped and stopped coloring.

“Daddy said a bad word.”

You’d turned around and glared at him. “He did.”

She looked up at him with her wide, brown eyes.

Those she’d gotten from him. His dark curls too.

Everything else?

Her smile, her nose, her softness?

That was all you.

“M’sorry, babygirl,” he apologized, sheepishly.

“S’okay, daddy.”

And back to coloring she went.

“Joel, let’s face it. Ellie’s growing up. She’s turning eighteen in a few months and truth is, she has one foot out the door.” Crossing your arms, you leaned back against the counter. “She was telling me how she wants to turn the garage into her own space.”

“There a reason she ain’t talkin’ to me ‘bout this?”

You’d smiled wistfully at him.

“Because she knows this is hard for you, Joel.”

It is hard. Because even though she isn’t his, she’s his and he’s afraid to lose her somehow.

Joel manages to snap himself out of his thoughts.

Rosemary’s now fast asleep, her well loved stuffed bunny rabbit wrapped in her arms. She’s a handful for him during bedtime—she has too much energy and most nights, you have to step in and help him. But tonight, after her bath, he had warmed a glass of milk for her to drink and it seemed to have done the trick because within minutes of him reading to her, her eyes fluttered closed.

Joel sets the book down and leans over to brush a kiss onto her cheek, quietly whispering goodnight. “Sweet dreams, babygirl.”

He switches off the lamp on the bedside table and steps out of his child’s bedroom, being careful not to wake her as he closes the door behind him.

“I still can’t believe she fell asleep within minutes,” you say, staring at him in utter disbelief. “How?”

“Gave her a glass of warm milk before I tucked her into bed,” Joel explains, tugging on a pair of faded black sweatpants. He peels off his shirt and tosses it onto the floor before climbing into bed. “Worked like a fuckin’ charm. She’s out like a damn light.”

You set your book down and raise an eyebrow.

“Joel, I brushed her teeth before her bath.”

“I brushed them again after she drank it, darlin’.”

He outstretches his arm, beckoning for you.

Grinning, you scoot closer to him, draping an arm over his bare chest. “It’s only nine,” you tell him. “I have no idea what we’re going to do with all of this free time we have. Rosemary’s asleep, Ellie’s gone for the night.” You slowly drag your hand down his chest and over his stomach, a finger skimming the waistband of his sweatpants. You hear the way his breath catches in his throat and tease, “I guess we can actually get some good sleep for once, huh?”

Groaning, Joel rolls over and pins you down to the bed as he positions himself on top of you, his eyes glazed over with lust. “We can sleep,” he murmurs as his mouth hovers over yours. He reaches for the buttons of his flannel you’re wearing and begins to single-handedly pop them open only to find you’re not wearing anything underneath. He groans once more. “Or I can make you feel good. S’your choice, baby.”

You gasp as he nips at your chin and starts trailing his lips lower, peppering kisses down the length of your body. Heat blossoms in your lower belly as he settles himself between your thighs. Hooking both arms around them, he nibbles at the soft spot that is right below your navel, the spot you hate, but he adores. Having a child had changed your body and while you two seldom had time to yourselves to do anything of this nature, when you did find time, he never failed to make you feel like you were still just as beautiful to him, if not a thousand times more.

“Fuck,” you whimper. “Please, Joel.”

“Please what, sweetheart? What do you want?”

His voice is low, husky.

Your hands reach down and tangle in his curls.

“Your mouth, Joel. Please. I need your—”

The sound of a teeny knock at the door makes you both freeze on the spot.

“You heard that, right?” you ask him breathlessly.

There’s a second teeny knock.

It’s then followed by an even teenier voice.

“Mommy? Daddy?”

“Fuck,” Joel hisses, scrambling off the bed. “What the hell is she doin’ out of bed?” Picking his t-shirt up from the floor, he quickly throws it on, ignoring that he’d put it on inside out. Watching you as you fumble to button his flannel, he calls, “Just give us one second babygirl, alright? We’ll be right there.”

“I’m decent,” you tell him, getting the last button.

Nodding, Joel opens the bedroom door. His knees protest when he squats down, lowering himself so that he can meet Rosemary’s tearful gaze.

“S’matter, Rosie Posie?” he asks her in a soft voice that he reserves for his girls. “What happened?”

She sniffles. “I—I had a bad dream, daddy.”

You sit on the side of bed and wait patiently.

Joel has it handled. He always has it handled.

He never stopped knowing how to be a father.

“You had a bad dream?” he repeats, frowning.

Rosemary nods, clutching her rabbit to her chest.

A single tear slips down the side of her little face.

Joel reaches out, gingerly wiping it with his finger.

“M’sorry it scared you, babygirl. Tell you what, just for tonight, how about you sleep with me and your mama in our bed? That sound good?” With a small labored grunt, he scoops her into his arms. She is getting heavier and you often tell him it’s not good for his back—he can’t care less. He’ll keep picking her up until the moment his little girl decides she’s a big girl and doesn’t want him to pick her up. Joel carries her over to the bed and sits her on your lap and reminds her, “But this is just for tonight, Rosie Posie. Tomorrow night you’re back in your own big girl bed, alright?”

“Okay,” she nods again and leans against you, tiny shoulders slumping.

“Rosie? What was your dream about?” you ask her gently, wrapping your arms around her. She hardly ever has nightmares—she’s too young to know the world outside the commune’s walls, smart but still too little to understand why she cannot go outside the gates. “What did you dream about, honey?”

She hesitates, then answers, “Monsters.”

“Monsters?” Perplexed, you glance at Joel.

He seems to be just as confused as you are.

“Who did you hear that word from, babygirl?”

“Robbie.”

Your neighbor’s unruly, troublemaker son.

Joel’s jaw clenches slightly. “Thought I told you he ain’t allowed to be around her. The kid is nine, ain’t got no business bein’ around Rosemary. Little brat ain’t nothin’ but a bad influence. He’s always up to no good.” He shakes his head at you. “Said I didn’t want that boy anywhere near our daughter.”

“The kids were out playing in the snow today,” you remember. “He must have been there too. It’s kind of hard to tell who is who when they’re all bundled up and flinging snowballs at each other, Joel.” You shoot him an apologetic look. “Rosie was having a blast playing with everybody—I’m sorry. I suppose I should’ve paid more attention to who was around her.”

He bites back a sigh. He knows it’s not your fault.

Rosie’s too good of a girl, too pure and innocent to know that not everybody is her friend.

“Rosie, what did Robbie say to you?”

Again, the child hesitates.

“He said—he said monsters live outside. They bite people and turn them into monsters too. He said it happened to his daddy.” Rosemary’s eyes flit from you to Joel. “He said it would happen to you, too.”

Your eyes widen in shock. “He said that to you?”

Hands curling into fists, Joel reminds himself now isn’t the time to let his anger take over. “S’not true at all, babygirl.” He reaches over and slides her out of your lap and onto his. Like you, he wants to lie—tell her those monsters she was told about are not real, that they don’t exist. But they do exist and as much as he wishes he could keep her from finding out about all that lies beyond Jackson’s walls, Joel knows that one day, she will. “Listen to me. M’real sorry to hear ‘bout Robbie’s daddy, baby. But I can promise you, that ain’t gonna happen to me.”

She points a chubby finger at you.

“What about mommy?”

“Ain’t gonna happen to her either.”

Rosemary drops her hand, fear clear in her tone as she asks the both of you, “What about me?”

“Of course not,” you say, smoothing back her dark curls. “You’re safe here, honey. As safe as can be.”

Joel nods. “Your mama’s right, darlin’. You’re safe,” he reassured her. “You’re safe and sound.”

“I am?”

He gives her body a warm, gentle squeeze. “Mhm. Always will be. Y’know how I know that, babygirl?”

“How?”

“‘Cause. As long as daddy’s around, he will always protect you,” he promises her. “He’ll never, ever let anythin’ bad happen to you, Rosie. I swear it.” Joel kisses the top of her head, his gaze meeting yours. He murmurs his oath quietly, “On my life.”

Flashing him a small, grateful smile, you reach out and touch his forearm and he places his hand over your own.

“And mommy too?” Rosemary questions him.

“And mommy too.”

“And Ellie?”

“And Ellie,” he nods, firmly. “M’always gonna keep my girls safe. S’long as I’m around, you’re all safe.”

Rosie tiredly snuggles into his chest, yawning.

“What about you, daddy?”

“Huh?”

You squeeze his arm. “Think she’s asking you who is supposed to keep you safe, Joel.”

The little girl nods sleepily. “Yeah. Who?”

“Well.” Joel’s throat bobs nervously. He knows the moment he says what he’s about to say, there’s no going back. Not that he never planned to tell Rosie about her sister, but he’d always imagined doing it when she was older and understood death. “I—uh, I have an angel in the clouds who looks out for me. She watches over me, keeps me safe and sound.”

Rosemary’s curiosity is all that is keeping her from completely passing out in his arms.

“Really? You have an angel?”

Your heart squeezes tightly in your chest. “Joel—”

He lightly shakes his head.

“S’fine sweetheart. I don’t mind tellin’ her.”

Rosie’s fighting to stay awake just a little longer.

“Daddy? What’s your angel’s name?”

Joel answers in the steadiest voice he can muster.

“Her name was—her name is Sarah.”

“Sarah,” she mumbles, her eyes closing. “S’pretty. Your angel has a really pretty name.”

“The prettiest name,” you agree, softly.

Rosie yawns again. “Daddy?”

“What is it, babygirl?”

“Will you tell me stories about Sarah? Please?”

Joel chuckles, rubbing her back. “I sure will. I have plenty of them to tell, Rosie Posie. But not tonight. I’ll save them for tomorrow ni—”

You cut him off. “Joel?”

“Yeah?”

“She’s out cold.”

He glances down and sure enough, she’s asleep.

Moments later, the three of you are in bed. Rosie’s in the middle, curled up against Joel’s chest—your chest is pressed against her back but you’re being careful not to sandwich her in too tight in between your bodies.

In a beam of silvery moonlight shining through the bedroom window, you meet Joel’s gaze.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He chuckles. “For what? Doin’ my job and soothin’ our daughter after a bad dream?”

You smile at him.

“For being so good to her. To me and Ellie.” Lifting a hand, you reach over and cup the side of his face in your palm. “You’re so good to all three of us and I can’t even imagine what we’d do without you.”

Joel turns his face, brushing a kiss into your hand.

“I mean it,” he says, quietly. “S’long as I’m around, you girls will always be safe and sound.”

credit divider @saradika-graphics

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #fic: safe and sound

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discotitsposts · 8 months ago

Text

meant to be

Spencer trying and failing to flirt with you because you are oblivious to his attempts.

spencer reid x reader

i picture this as later seasons spencer maybe sometime around 12-14?

some mature themes mentions of sex at the end so 18+

writing this because i saw something about people who are bad at flirting and that’s literally me. (i hope ppl get the reference w the nickname)

Spencer had tried every day to get your attention romantically. It didn’t work. Nothing did. You were so oblivious to all of his flirting attempts. He figured maybe you had trouble understanding so he worked harder to make you think of him as more than a friend. He tried everything his genius brain could come up with.

He even made up a nickname for you, Bean, because you always had a coffee in your hand, and because he was taller than you.

Today you were getting coffee with him as usual. At your favorite coffee shop and library. You didn’t work at the BAU so you would eventually have to go to your own job so Spencer decided to try again.

Since you lived in the same building, neighbors in the same hall, he picked you up every morning. Drove you to get coffee and you each picked a book for each other and then he drove you to work.

He knocks on your door awaiting anxiously. You come out in your outfit, just a t shirt and jeans. you didn’t have a dress code at your job, you were an author and usually went into a nice office that the publishing company provided to write since you had a hard time focusing in your apartment. Too many distractions.

In Spencer’s car you make small talk as he tries to think of a way to flirt with you. Normally he’d call Morgan but his son was a toddler now so he was busy. He gets so lost in his head he doesn’t realize he just ran a stop sign on accident and almost hit someone.

He hears you yell “Spencer what the fuck!” and slams the brakes. The other car honks and his heart is pounding in his brain. He pulls to the side of the road and stops.

“Spencer. Breathe. It’s ok.” You worry tracing your face at the sight of his extremely fast breathing and you rub his back reassuringly.

“Holy shit.” He barely chokes out. His face is beet red and he looks like he’s about to have a panic attack.

“Switch.” You tell him. He looks at you and feels comforted immediately by your face. “Let’s go, switch.” You get out of the car and switch sides.

‘So much for flirting’ he thinks. Then it hits him. When he picks your book for the day, he’ll give you a romantic story. Something that says ‘I really like you but I’m an idiot so I don’t know how to tell you but i’m not actually an idiot because im technically a genius but my fucked up life has ruined romance for me but i’d love to try it with you if you are okay with that.’

When you take over driving you don’t talk. You just focus on the road. You had even turned the music off. He hopes you’re not upset with him. That thought quickly dissipates when you pull into the parking lot and your face is beaming. You both race to the entrance and he gets there first and opens the door for you. You stick your tongue out at him and he smirks.

You order your usual drinks and he gets himself a breakfast bagel and you get a croissant. He puts the food at a table and you both get up to grab each other a book. You had yours picked since last night, The Godfather. It’s only a little over 400 pages so he’ll probably finish it by lunch time but at least it will be fun for him since it will make him think of you. At least you hope it does.

You have a habit of making funny commentary during movie nights. When you watched ‘The Godfather’ trilogy with Spencer he had laughed so hard he cried.

Meanwhile Spencer is searching rows of books looking for the right one. He moves to poetry but nothing feels right. He feels slightly frustrated so he moves back to classics and picks ‘A Little Princess’ instead. A favorite of yours you had read in elementary school. Not romantic but shows he knows you well.

When he makes his way back to the register to check the book out, you’re already seated munching your croissant. He makes his way to you and hides the book behind his back. You discreetly pull yours out of your bag and hide it the same way.

“1,2,3!” You both count at the same time and then reveal your books. Spencer cracks up when he sees the book you had picked. He had read this before but he enjoyed it because it reminded him of you. You both eat and finish your coffees. You look at each other.

“More?” Spencer asks.

“Obviously.” You answer. You both stand up and order more coffee.

Back in Spencer’s car you open the book and start reading. He’s about to put the key in the ignition when sudden confidence hits him. He doesn’t know if it’s the caffeine but he doesn’t care. He should kiss you right now. He stares at you until you look up.

“You’re going to be late for work if you don’t start that engine up soon Mr. Chauffeur.” You tease him.

He leans closer and puckers his lips slightly. He’s so filled with lust he just can’t wait anymore.

You look at him strangely. Was he trying to kiss you right now? Probably not. Truth was you were always so filled with doubt whenever you liked someone. Especially Spencer. He was just too handsome and sweet and perfect.

He leans in even closer to you and tilts his head. You, however, had gone back to your book and weren’t even looking at him.

“Does this make you uncomfortable” Spencer leans in closer. He closes his eyes and you lean down to reach for something from your bag. He doesn’t feel your soft lips on his and thinks he may have missed your face. He opens his eyes.

“Everything does. I have anxiety Spencer. All the time anywhere day and night. ” You reply while eating a yogurt you had found in your tote.

Spencer pulls away and smacks his forehead. He starts the car and drops you at your work and drives to the BAU feeling defeated. What would it take for you to realize how bad he wants you.

That night he decides to drop by your apartment. You had gotten a ride home from work by a friend tonight. He opens his door and walks the short distance to yours.

When his hand knocks on your door he feels nervous. You open the door and greet him.

“Hi!” You cheer.

“Hey, I was gonna order a pizza. You want?” He lies. He actually wasn’t the biggest fan of pizza. He didn’t eat it too often but it was your favorite food so why not.

“That would be great. I’m starving.” You clutch your belly dramatically. Which makes Spencer laugh.

He picks up the phone, “What would you like on the pizza m’lady.”

You tap your chin and think. “Sausage.” You reply. Spencer thinks of a way to flirt. Kind of.

“How much sausage would you like?” He asks smirking.

“Uhh, 5? I don’t know dude. The normal amount that goes on a pizza?” You answer sarcastically, going to your dvd rack to pick a movie. Spencer sighs. He calls and places the order and helps you pick a movie.

“How about ‘How To Be A Serial Killer?’ That’s a good one. I love Matthew Gray Gubler in this one so much.” You fan girl a little.

“Who the fuck is Matthew Gray Gubler? Also, no, not with my line of work. I need a break from that.” Spencer asks with a hint of jealousy in his voice. You clasp your hand over your heart dramatically.

“Ok, fine. how about a Disney Classic? Sleeping Beauty is my favorite.” You ask. Spencer nods. You put the movie on and grab two root beers from your fridge. Spencer thanks you when you hand him one and you lay a big fluffy blanket over you both. Not far into the movie the pizza arrives and you cheers Spencer with your pizza slice.

After you both eat and are full the movie is still on. You’re starting to feel sleepier by the second. Spencer offers you to lay with him and you take him up on it. He’s basically a giant teddy bear. He’s so warm and comfortable.

“I’ve got a real life sleeping beauty right here.” He whispers to you. You smile with your eyes closed. Too sleepy to open. He gets out from under you, to your dismay. He cleans up the trash from eating. He even washes some dishes you had left sitting. When he comes back, you’re still half awake. He sees you sneak an eye open to look at him and your smile after.

“It seems there’s a fair maiden who has fallen asleep. However can we wake her? What if she sleeps for a hundred years?!” He exclaims. You start giggling softly. He leans closer to observe you.

“I don’t believe it! She’s laughing in her sleep! Must be quite a funny dream. Wonder what it is. Only one way to find out.” He gently leans down and kisses your lips softly. This action puts you in shock and you’re blushing. He starts to pull away because doubts fill his mind. You grab his hair and pull him back in.

You both pull back and he starts to ask you,

“Were you ok with that?”

You cut him off, “Yes.” Then you rip your shirt off. Spencer’s in shock. He follows your lead and starts undressing. He picks you up and carries you to your bedroom. The kiss you’re sharing is deepening by the second.

“Fuck why is it so hot in here.” You complain.

“I can think of a few reasons.” Spencer had been kissing you on your neck sucking the skin softly. He lays you back on the bed. He makes you comfortable. He goes down on you and then fucks you like you’ve never been fucked before.

The next morning you woke up naked next to him flashes of last night replaying. You couldn’t believe it. Spencer was so passionate! You didn’t even imagine he liked you like that.

He groans next to you and turns over. You get up and put on some coffee. When you come back into the bedroom he’s awake and looking for you.

“Hey, coffee’s ready.” You lean over and kiss him. He groans too tired to give an answer. He pulls you into the bed and holds you longer.

With him, this felt so easy and realistic.

Then you realize something.

This was meant to be.

the end ♡

to anyone who read this far: hope u enjoyed reading!! please let me know if u enjoyed! xoxo

#criminal minds #spencer reid #mgg #matthewgraygubler #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid

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mxltifxnd0m · 5 months ago

Text

smother it ː s. winchester

summary: sam has to patch you up, but the problem lies within the fact the two of you despise each another

pairings: sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x fem! reader [can be read as gn/afab reader]

word count: 4.7K

warnings: 18+, no use of 'y/n', slight enemies to lovers, mentions of wounds and stitches, bickering, curse words, some smut [fem receiving oral], and fluff

a/n: first kinda smut for sam so PLEASE MINORS DNI!! for my sake and your own! I will be checking blogs who interact with this one-shot for minors and I will be blocking you if you do. i have SFW works for sam, so please go and check those ones out instead!

without further ado, please enjoy the oneshot and reblog and comment your thots 😏

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

From the moment you met Sam Winchester, he managed to get under your skin like no other.

You had met the Winchesters while hunting a siren, which, at the time, you didn't know what you were hunting. You were stumped with the evidence that you had found. But you had bumped into Dean while in the morgue, both posing as FBI agents and realizing that the other was a hunter soon after the coroner left the room. You had some idea who this hunter was, but when he finally dropped the FBI shtick and introduced himself as Dean Winchester, it confirmed your suspicions that you had when you asked Bobby for some help on this hunt and said he sent "one of the best" your way.

You were surprised at how well you got along with Dean, having heard some choice words that Bobby has described the Winchesters as a particular kind of character (his words, not yours). But you were not prepared to be met with hostility from the "infamous" Sam Winchester when Dean brought you back to their motel room.

Sam visibly bristled when you entered the room, which you chalked up as the fact that you were a stranger intruding in on a private space, which you wholly understood; you would have reacted in the same way. But when Dean clarified that you were the hunter they were sent to help with, Sam rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath.

You were a bit confused by the cold shoulder that Sam was giving you, and apparently so was Dean, having seen him give his brother a weird look after he interrupted you for the third time when trying to figure out what you guys were hunting. You bit your tongue each time he did, but the third time was enough, and you asked him what the hell his problem was with you. You genuinely wanted to know since you had been nothing but kind to him.

Sam rolled his eyes. "It's obviously a siren, but you wouldn't know that given that you're new at this." He said, completely disregarding your question, and he continued on with explaining his theory on what the monster the three of you were hunting was.

You stared at Sam, nostrils flared, and anger filled your veins at the fact he thought you were new at hunting. You were brought up to hunt from a very young age and had been for a very long time, so the fact that he thought you were an inexperienced hunter boiled your blood. You had heard about the Winchesters and their reputation growing up, knowing their prowess for hunting was high, but you never expected someone like Sam, who looked like a gentle giant at first glance, to be such a dick.

"Thank you for that boy genius. Do you ever actually get to kill the thing, or is your nose too busy to be stuck in a book and that's why you let your brother do the heavy lifting?" You retorted, looking at him with a cocked brow.

You saw Sam's jaw clench and eyes flash with irritation at your words. He went to respond, but Dean quickly intervened and tried to de-escalate the situation at hand. He practically sent you and Sam to timeout, having told you to go back to your room to cool off while he talked to Sam alone.

You pressed your lips together and tried not to stomp out of the room like a toddler having a tantrum. You left the room, slamming their door shut and went back to your room. You were muttering angrily to yourself as you walked back to your room. You can't believe that Sam had insulted your ability to hunt. He hadn't even seen you hunt before. You'd never expected Sam to be this much of an ass to you (you honestly thought it would be Dean to act this way from what you heard from Bobby).

Dean eventually came for you in your room and told you to come back. Once you were back in their room, Dean sat you down across Sam and lectured the two of you. He made you promise that you or Sam wouldn't take jabs at one another or try to provoke the other into an argument. So, like two disgruntled children, you both promised Dean that you guys wouldn't do any of that until after the hunt was over and you had killed the siren.

But once you killed that siren, you immediately left, not wanting to stay in the presence of Sam Winchester any longer than you had to. But as fate would have it, you guys would always seem to cross paths with you on hunts. Dean would always find you and invite you to hunt with them, and before you could even think about saying no, he'd pull a puppy dog look at you, and pout. Which, without fail, you would always say yes to.

Hunting with Sam was torture. He'd always nitpick the way you went about research and would take any chance to correct you about the lore behind particular creatures that you were hunting. Sam loved being insufferable toward you, and you could tell it brought him so much joy when you would have to storm away from him; otherwise, you would have broken his nose with a swift punch to his face.

You knew you hated Sam Winchester, and you knew for a fact that he had the same feelings toward you. You also despised the fact that you found him attractive. Sam was tall, almost too tall, had shaggy brown hair that he pulled off effortlessly, hazel eyes that seemed to be an endless pool of blues, greens, browns, and golds, and smug smirks he would send you when he was right about some obscure lore were deadly combinations for you.

You wished that you weren't drawn to him, but you saw the kind smiles and the soft eyes that never were directed at you, but he had when he talked to the victims on hunts. You even saw the dimples that he had when he'd smile at the stupid banter that he and Dean would have when the three of you were at a bar celebrating a job well done and Sam had loosened up with a couple of drinks in him.

"Stop squirming," Sam ordered you with a grumble, a frown on his face as he wiped the blood away from the gash on your back. His words brought you back to the present.

You glared at him through the mirror of the cramped motel bathroom the two of you were in. He took most of the space with his broad frame, standing behind you as your hands gripped the edge of the porcelain countertop, cleaning the wound you had gotten when the ghoul you were hunting threw you through a glass table and glass ended up cutting up your back. You would have cleaned it yourself, but it was in a spot where you needed to be a contortionist if you wanted to clean it yourself.

You would have asked Dean for help, but as soon as he cleaned up from the hunt, he left the motel to go to the nearest bar while you waited for Sam to be done with the shower. You wished you didn't have to share the room with the boys on this hunt, but when you arrived at the motel, there were no vacancies, so you had to bunk with the Winchesters.

You winced as Sam suddenly stuck the needle into your skin. The glass that sliced into your back was deep enough to where it needed stitches. You swore you saw something flicker in his eyes as his gaze looked up from your back, and you hissed slightly at the feeling before he focused on the task at hand. You were regretting ever saying yes to helping Dean.

"You need to be less reckless, I don't want to be the one patching you constantly." Sam mumbled as he threaded the needle through your skin.

You huffed angrily. "Yeah sure, next time I'll ask the ghoul to gently throw me through a glass table." You snapped at him.

You hissed through your teeth as you felt Sam tug on a stitch, making it tighter than it needed to be and sending a sting of pain through your back. You glared at him harder through the mirror as you saw the corner of his lip twitch significantly.

"Sorry, did that hurt?" He asked, his tone feigning innocence as he finished stitching up your wound. Sam tied off the stitch and sniped the thread, quickly grabbing some gauze and medical tape to cover your freshly sewn skin together. Once he was done, you grabbed the hem of the tank top you were wearing and pulled it down. Then, you reached for the first aid kit lying on top of the toilet seat.

"I can do the rest. You're released from your duties now." You tell Sam sarcastically as you eye the cut that was near your hairline.

As you were looking through the first aid kit to grab some ointment before you cleaned the cut, you felt Sam move out of the bathroom, the room feeling less suffocating as he did, but you didn't notice his eyes on you the entire time until he leaned against the doorway. Unfortunately for you, he stayed there with his gaze stuck on you.

You glanced to see his broad figure take up the entire doorway and scowled. "You can leave now, join your brother at the bar, I don't need your help anymore."

Sam didn't move an inch at your words. "Why do you hate me?" He asked instead of listening to you.

Your lips thinned into a straight line as you closed the first aid kid with more force than you intended, and a sharp laugh left your lips.

"Really? You're asking me this now? If anyone should be asking this question, it should be me."

You saw Sam shrugging out the corner of your eye. "Just curious, it's clear that you don't like me."

"That's rich coming from the man who has been nothing but hostile towards me the moment I set foot in the same room as him." You quickly tried to clean the cut on your forehead. Luckily, it wasn't as bad as it looked, and you swiftly cleaned it and placed a butterfly bandage on it.

"It's not like you were the most friendly either."

You turned to face Sam, a fiery look in your eyes. "Only because I tried to be nice to you, but you were nothing but a dick to me." You wanted nothing more but to slap Sam's stupidly handsome face.

Sam started to smirk, clearly enjoying getting you riled up. "Is that so?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. Sam's question felt demeaning.

"Oh for Christ's sake. I'm not doing this with you right now." You all but growled through gritted teeth. You pushed past Sam, hitting his shoulder hard as you made your way out of the bathroom and gathered your things. You've had it with Sam, and if he was going to play this game with you, you would just leave and never interact with the Winchesters again.

You tried putting on your jacket but cringed in pain when you felt your stitches pull, and a warm hand on your shoulder stopped you.

"You're gonna rip the stitches if you keep that up," Sam said in an uncharacteristically soft voice, which made you frown. You shrugged off his hand and turned around to see his eyebrows pinched. You hated that all you wanted to do was smooth out the wrinkles that formed in the middle.

You shook your head to get rid of that thought. "Oh, fuck off, Sam. Don't act like you care. If it wasn't for Dean being there, you would have probably left me there to bleed out."

Sam flinched at your harsh words, his face hardening before softening again as his hand twitched at his side like he wanted to reach out but fought against it.

"Look, I'm sorry for how I treated you." He licked his bottom lip. "I-you. I do care about you."

You looked at him with disbelief. "Really? Wow, could've fooled me." You sent him a sarcastic smile before turning back around, intending to leave the room. You couldn't care less about your stuff at the moment.

"Hey!" Sam called out for you and grabbed your arm to stop you from leaving. His grip on your arm was firm but not painful. You stopped in your tracks before closing your eyes and your tense shoulders relaxing at his touch.

"Sam." You intended for your voice to come out firm, but instead, it came out hoarse, almost tired.

Sam gently pulled you back towards him, and you let him turn you around so he could see him. Your eyes were still closed as you faced him, his grip on your arm slowly moving up and resting on your shoulder, his other hand moving to rest on your other shoulder.

You eventually opened your eyes to find Sam studying your face. His eyes were like a green haze. The warm lighting of the room made the flecks of brown and gold scattered throughout his eyes more prominent, threatening to take over the green.

Sam said your name softly as his thumbs started to swipe against your bare skin. "I do care about you, more than you know."

You scoffed. "Well, you have a shit way of showing it." His flawed logic was making the anger you felt earlier begin to rise again.

"I know, I know," Sam took a deep breath before speaking again. "When I saw you come into the room, you made me feel things I hadn't felt in a long time. So I thought if I was cold towards you, they would go away or at least hide what I actually felt toward you."

Irritation swelled in your chest.

"So, you decided to take the playground approach? Newsflash, Sam, you're an adult, and being a dick to someone won't make them like you. If you really wanted to make someone like you, you would be yourself or have the decency to be nice to them." You glared up at Sam as you ranted.

Sam smiled. That man started to smile, and it did nothing to quell the anger bubbling underneath your skin.

"What the hell are you smiling at Winchester?"

He shook his head, clearly trying to shove down his amusement. But his dimples threatened to appear as he cleared his throat and arranged his face into a more neutral expression before speaking.

"Look, I am sorry for how I treated you. I know we aren't kids, and I shouldn't have acted like a child toward you, but sometimes you make me feel like a stupid kid with a crush." Sam's hands squeezed your shoulders before they moved down your hands and held them.

You pursed your lips to bite back a smile that wanted to appear on your face. You felt your stomach flutter at Sam's admission as you looked down at your connected hands, his hands engulfing yours as his thumbs rubbed circles into the tops of them.

"You know, for someone so intelligent, you can be really dumb." You said as you inched closer to Sam.

Sam let out a chuckle at your words, a red hue on his cheeks growing as he smiled sheepishly down at you. You couldn't help but let a smile appear on your face at the sound of his amusement.

"Yeah, I know. I just really like you, and you make me feel stupid sometimes." Sam sighed as he stared down at you.

"Well, you're in luck because I seem to like your dumb ass too." You let go of one of his hands to cup his cheek.

Sam leaned into your touch. "Really?" His eyes lit up like he was a kid in a candy shop.

You rolled your eyes at the giant in front of you and pinched his cheek playfully. "No," You deadpan. "Although, your brother on the other hand…" You grinned sarcastically at him.

Sam took his turn to roll his eyes at you, and before you could tell him you were kidding, he let go of your hand, grabbed the nape of your neck, and pulled you into a passionate kiss.

You almost yelped into his mouth from how fast Sam moved. His other hand moved to your waist as your hand that wasn't cupping his cheek went to rest on his shoulder. Sam moved the two backward until he sat down on the edge of the bed, lifted you, and placed you on his lap.

Desire filled your veins as Sam's lips moved against yours fervently. A small moan fell from your lips as Sam nipped at your bottom lip and took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, groaning lowly when your tongue slid against his.

It was as if you were both finally on the same wavelength because, in moments, his tongue was already exploring the inside of your mouth. His hands slide down to your sides, where he caresses your body with both his hands. You both seemed to be completely lost in this kiss, as you both forgot about anything else around you, like time and space.

His lips eventually left yours, feeling out of breath as he dotted kisses across your jaw and down your neck. His hands moved to the hem of your tanktop and slid it up, slowly exposing more and more of your skin until it was entirely off, leaving you in your bra in front of him. Sam managed to rip his lips from your neck to drink in your body, his hazel eyes dark with desire.

"You're so beautiful." He breathed out as his hands moved up your back, almost covering the entire length of it from how big his hands were. Sam reaches for the clasp of your bra but stops when he brushes over the bandage on your back. Sam pulled back slightly, looking at you with a slight frown on his face.

You wanted to do nothing but kiss it away, so you did. Your lips touched Sam's softly as your hands reached for the hem of his shirt. He let you take it off of him, only breaking from the kiss to get it over his head.

You drank in Sam's bare torso. Taking in every inch of him. His tattoo stands out against his tanned skin, his muscles expanding and contracting as he breathes heavily. Sam was like a marble statue that came to life.

The motel room was silent, save for your and Sam's heavy breathing as you stared at each other. Sam's hand was still resting on the part of your back that was bandaged.

"You sure you're up for this right now?" Sam asked with concern, lacing his tone.

You smiled at him and nodded. "I might implode if you stop right now."

Sam laughed at your words, his dimples appearing as he smiled widely at you. "Oh, wow. Implode huh?" He raised his eyebrows in surprise as his smile turned into a flirty smirk.

You nodded, a serious expression on your face as you rested your forehead on his. "Yep, we wouldn't want that happening now would we?" A sultry smile on your face as you teased his lips with little pecks.

Sam's hands moved back to your waist and squeezed. "No we wouldn't." He answered before he caught your lips between his. Your hands moved from his bare shoulders to the nape of his neck, and you started to tug at the longer strands of hair, making him groan into the kiss.

Sam's hands moved up your back and unclasped your bra, almost tearing the straps off as he tugged them from your arms and threw the bra somewhere in the room. His lips left yours to trail down your neck and chest, and you leaned back, exposing your chest to him more. And you let out a soft moan, feeling him nip at your smooth skin and taking one of your nipples in his mouth, licking and sucking at it.

The hands that were wound in his head began to tug at his hair harder as he moved from one breast to the other. He let out a low growl against you, sending vibrations down your spine and into the heat that was pooling in your core.

One of Sam's hands moved down your body and to the front of your pants, and the button on your jeans popped open with a flick of his fingers. His hand slowly made its way past your underwear, and he pulled away from your chest with a groan when he felt how wet you were.

"This all for me?" Sam asked with a salacious grin on his face as two of his fingers swiped through your slit, coating his fingers and moving up to rub at your clit. You whimpered as you nodded, your hips rutting against his hand, and you could feel yourself getting wetter as he rubbed at your clit faster.

Sam abruptly stopped, pulled his hand away, and tugged at your pants urgently. You managed to get out of your pants and underwear with the help of his insistent hands, and once they were off, he grabbed your hips and fell backward on the bed, pulling you up until your naked core was level with his face.

"Sam!" You yelped, surprised at his strength and sudden manhandling.

"I don't want to hurt your back, but I really need to taste you," Sam said as he looked at your cunt hungrily.

"You sure?" You looked down at him hesitantly.

Sam's eyes softened as he looked up at you, his thumbs drawing circles on your thighs. "We can stop right here if you want."

You bit down on your bottom lip before shaking your head. "Just don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," He reassured you before smirking. "Besides, I wouldn't mind going out like this. 'S better than the alternative."

You laughed at Sam's words, putting you at ease, and you nodded at him to go ahead.

"I'll need words pretty girl." Sam squeezed your thighs.

You felt a heat bloom on your face and in your core at his words as you brushed back Sam's bangs from his forehead.

"Sam, please I need you." You all but whined.

"You have me." Sam said before pulling you on top of his face, burying his head between your thighs as his tongue began to lick and suck at your clit.

Moans began to escape your lips as your hips began to rut into his face, his tongue now lapping at your entrance as his nose nudged against your sensitive nub. You could feel the knot in your lower belly get tighter and tighter as Sam moved back to suck at your clit, and two of his fingers prodded at your entrance before slipping with little resistance. You felt so full with his fingers inside you. Sam's fingers quickly found your g-spot and began to rub at it, making you arch your back almost painfully at the intense pleasure Sam was giving you.

"Fuck! Sam I-I'm close."

At your words, Sam seemed to grow even hungrier for you to come. You tugged at his hair hard and rutted against his face faster before he sucked at your clit hard and pressed against your g-spot, making you fall over the edge as stars danced behind your eyes and you clenched around his fingers.

You could feel the vibration of Sam's low groan in your cunt as he tasted you, lapping at you until you were too sensitive. You climbed off of him with shakey legs and collapsed beside him; a layer of sweat coated the entirety of your naked body as you tried to catch your breath. Sam pressed soft kisses to your shoulder and collarbone as he waited for you to calm down.

Once you had calmed down, Sam caught your lips in a soft kiss.

"You okay?" He mumbled against your lips.

"More than." You smiled against his lips before you kissed him deeply. Sam slowly moved to hover over you. One of your hands moved from the bed to the waistband of the pants that Sam was wearing and inched downward until it cupped the bulge that was very prominent in his sweatpants.

Sam's groan was muffled by your lips, but before you could even think about taking off Sam's belt, the motel room door swung open and hit the wall with a slam. You and Sam quickly separated, and bless Sam, he pulled the covers over you to shield Dean's eyes from your naked form as he stood at the foot of the bed.

"Woah!" You heard Dean exclaim, and you looked over to see him walking back outside and closing the door.

"Finally! You could have cut the sexual tension between the two of you with a knife. But make sure to put a sock on the doorknob next time," Dean said through the closed door of the motel. You and Sam looked at each other, both of you flustered by the fact that Dean walked in on you guys.

"I'll be in the Impala tonight. Sammy, make sure you use protection!" He called through the door and promptly walked away from the door.

You stared at Sam before breaking out into a fit of laughter. Sam started to chuckle as he heard you laughing. A warmth bloomed in his chest when he saw your body shake. You laughed a bit too hard, and you felt a sharp pain come from your back. Sam saw you winced and walked over to you with worry in his eyes.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" His eyes flicked up and down your body quickly.

You shook your head, "No, just my back, I might have pulled a stitch or something."

"Let me check." Sam gestured for you to turn around.

You took off the covers and rolled onto your stomach to let Sam check your stitches. You felt him pull back the bandage before replacing it again.

"You didn't tear anything, but it's probably not a good idea to continue with what we were doing before Dean barged in."

You huffed a laugh as you turned back to face Sam. "You mean before you were about to fuck me?"

Sam flushed red at your words but threw his head back to laugh. The sound made you grin before you joined in; his giggles were infectious.

"Yeah, before that." He nodded and responded when he calmed down, the occasional chuckle escaping his lips.

You sighed dramatically. "If you insist." You knew it wasn't a good idea to have sex with him when your back was out of commission, but it didn't mean that you wanted to jump his bones; you really did.

Sam smiled before patting your thigh and getting up from the bed to grab the shirt he was wearing earlier that night and toss it to you. You caught it, and you couldn't help but smile as you put it on his shirt. You were engulfed by Sam's smell. The notes of citrus, mint, mahogany, and his musk made you melt inside.

The two of you got underneath the covers of the bed, and Sam was quick to tuck you into his side. You threw your leg over his hips as you used his bicep as a pillow. You let out a contented sigh as you settled in Sam's embrace.

Sam looked over at you, used his free hand to tilt your chin towards him, and kissed you gently. "Goodnight." He murmured against your lips.

"Night Sammy." You whispered before giving him one last lingering kiss and tucking your head in the crook of his neck. The events of the day hit you, and with the warmth of Sam's bare chest, the exhaustion consumed you. The last thing you could remember before you entered your dreamscape was Sam kissing your forehead softly before pulling you closer to him.

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writingfromasgard · 6 months ago

Note

Need more fat baby fics like now my heart can't take it plssssss

I'm assuming you mean König's fat baby.

König adores his little girl. He was one of those dads who required a picture of her sent to him every day from the day care before hiring a nanny.

When he hires the nanny (you), you're expected to move in. The spare room is sparingly decorated so he gives you a $200 budget to change things.

His princess is named Ciela. You come into her life when she's 2. She loves bubbles, drawing what she calls cats, and takes her nap at 11am every day.

She's easily in 3-4T clothing with long legs, clearly taking after her father. Her hair is why so many people believe you're her mother - same hair type and color as yours.

Her speech, like I've said before, is very formal and oddly better than older kids. You figure out it's because König speaks to her like shes an adult. She'll stomp her little feet if you don't do the same.

While she knows English, it's heavily accented by her German vowels. She mixes German with English sometimes too - with small words like and, eggs, a, I, is.

König likes coming home to see her playing with you. He sneaks photos to gush about to Horangi - "Look, Horangi! Isn't my wife playing so well with my Ciela? They look so cute."

The main reason you enjoy the job isn't because of the perks, the overly well behaved toddler, or the dinners König cooks.. it's seeing him put her to bed.

Unless he's on a "business trip", he's the one tucking her into bed, reading from various books.

#asks #konig x you #konig #konig x reader #konig's fat baby

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nvuy · 9 months ago

Text

an ode to a nightingale — sunday

summary. you were never anything. sunday begs to differ, in his own twisted way.

notes. a thing i did as an experiment and also as a little gift to a special someone (you know who you are) because we both enjoy staring at this guy's face. he's a funky little dude and a massive green flag. 100%.

i redownloaded hsr and i’ve started penacony. i have no idea what’s going on. it’s probably because i’ve been stuck staring at dr ratio’s boob window the whole time. i’m like a toddler watching cocomelon. i cant look away.

warnings. mdni, for safety. implied explicit content, dark themes, manipulation, sunday is a controlling dickhead, you’re an implied streetwalker, yandere themes, insulting, threatening, possessiveness, mentions of kidnapping, gaslighting, obsessiveness, lots of nice stuff like that. please let me know if i've missed anything!

“What do you want from me?”

You looked in the mirror as you spoke, and you saw some pathetic state of a person staring back at you. Behind the edges of the golden vanity was the outline of the filled bathtub with steam wafting from the surface.

And him.

You watched as he sank into the water with a satisfied gleam on his face.

You refused to linger on the scratch marks that left gorgeous red and white lines down his arms, and his chest, and his spine.

It smelled like coconut. Coconut and dusted sugar on creamy pastry. And the clogging smell of mascara.

It smudged down your cheeks, and your lips were ruined and swollen, and your skin was painted in purple bruises and teeth marks.

And you were sore. Every part of your body was aching.

Sunday was leaning against the edge of the tub, staring at you through his lashes. He always preferred his baths boiling, as if he wanted to melt his skin off. Usually, he’d bring a book with him and read it during his off time when given the chance.

He didn’t answer.

“You’ve changed,” he said instead. His voice echoed off of the white tiles in the bathroom.

“I look the same as the night you took me off the streets,” you murmured. “Like a whore.”

Sunday hummed. “Is that how you see yourself?” The wings extending from his ears dipped below the water for a moment. “A ‘whore?’”

You didn’t want to turn to face him.

It was difficult enough to hold his unwavering gaze in the mirror.

“You’re not denying it.”

“Because I think you look damaged.” He was honest this time, and there was bitterness swelling with his tone. He instinctively fluttered his feathers to dry them off.

“By your design.” You were speaking of how he made it his duty to ruin your skin with his teeth.

“What I’ve done to you is nothing. You had already ruined yourself by offering your body to those disgusting animals before I had ever even laid my eyes on you.” He waved his hand as if he meant no harm with his words. “I’ve merely saved you.”

Your jaw clenched.

He fluttered his lashes at you in the mirror and sighed.

What a pretty sight.

“‘Saved me?’” you repeated hoarsely. You tried not to claw at your skin in frustration. You willed yourself not to lunge at him and puncture his eyes from his skull. “Do me a favour and save me from your arrogance next. You’re deluded if you think trapping me in your bedroom is praiseworthy.”

He smiled.

“Think of it this way: a bird is much safer trapped in a cage than free to the winds.” The smell of coconut and sugared powder made your head spin. Of course, he would use the soaps and creams you wore when he first met you. The smell was engraved into his mind like a branding.

Although covered by a robe, you felt vulnerable. His gaze held strong. You weren’t sure if he was even blinking.

Sunday seemed too relaxed. Your freedom was a joke to him; what is freedom if you’re too busy giving your body to strangers? Did you want to go back to that life?

“You want me to get in the tub just so you can humiliate me,” you accused with a dangerous flash of your teeth.

You wanted to sound angry. You wanted to sound furious, but it was only a pitiful whimper of a phrase. You felt pathetically weak.

He was quick to answer, “I did not request your company.” He patted the book with golden edges that sat on a ledge of the bathtub. You didn’t want to ask of its contents. “You came here of your own fruition. You felt lonely.”

“You think you know everything about me.”

“But of course.” Sunday plucked the book from the ledge, careful not to wet the pages as he turned to the page he’d marked. “You are mine, after all.”

His tone was light. Confident.

Your face was burning. “Fuck you.”

Who even were you? Who were you next to him?

Nothing, was the appropriate answer. He insisted otherwise, though he’d never given you a definitive answer of what you were. He’d never explicitly stated you to be a whore, disobedient, disrespectful, too independent for your own good.

Everything you hated to hear about yourself, even if it was all true.

He’d only tut and usher you away with a wave of his hand.

You’re his, as well.

His teeth in your skin, his feathers tickling your neck, his wandering fingers that crept below your navel. He’s stained your skin with his. It’s hard to wash off—even harder when he shares the same soaps as you.

Perhaps he knows this, and that’s why he hopes you share a bath with him.

So you’re reminded that there’s a chain around your ankle.

“You’re a fuckin’ hypocrite, y’know. You think you’re so high and mighty, and yet you’re naked and pining after some street whore. And then you insist that I belong to you, but also beg for me beneath your own sheets.” But that wasn’t true.

As soon as the words left your lips you screwed your eyes shut and you leaned over the vanity.

His smile only grew, and the tip of his tongue touched the sharp edge of his canines.

Your fingers curled around the edge of the marble countertop.

Here he was, vulnerable. Susceptible to a swift slice of a blade to his neck, to being held beneath the surface of the water until he stopped flailing.

And you’re still so afraid of him.

He reads you like the book in his hands.

Sunday cooed. “Just like water, you are destructible, easily poisoned, and ever changing. You are lost, entrapped within four walls, so desperate to escape, but you cannot think for yourself.”

You furrowed your brows.

He turned the page of his book. The water sloshed as his arms moved.

The smell of coconut was hurting your head.

“You speak in tongues because you’re scared of ruining your perfect image,” you said. “You’re just an insecure little boy who's stuck in a daydream.”

That forced his head to turn. He almost snapped his book shut. Instead, his fingers froze on the edges of the crisp paper.

Then, he let out a hearty laugh.

“Allow me to rephrase: your beauty is wicked. It is rotten, vile, and evil.” The sweet scent of sugar was a cruel joke. It juxtaposed everything that spilled from his filthy lips. “Your blood is muddied and ruined. You’ve allowed strangers to see your skin.

“You’re lucky I’ve tolerated your behaviour for this long. If you were anybody else, you would have lost your foul tongue after our first night together.”

The way he said it all made you feel so much smaller than you were.

You finally turned around to face him. The reflection in the mirror made the bathtub seem further away than it actually was.

The tub was in the centre of the room, craved meticulously from a blue crystal. To you, it closely resembled aquamarine. It was big enough to be considered a swimming pool if you removed the golden faucet, but you refrained from insulting his fussy craftsmanship and adding fuel to the fire.

Sunday was particular about everything; sizing, shapes, colours. Everything had to match, everything had to make sense, everything had to be perfect and presentable. Any faults or flaws were dealt with swiftly, whether that be a person or an object. You weren’t sure if you were considered one or the other.

Then came the specifics. A ledge for placing things, voids in the walls for storing soaps, adequate cupboards, flooring, walls, forms, everything.

Aeons forbid you dropped a glass and scratched the precious tiling.

And he was particular about you, though he never clearly stated what he wanted from you.

He wanted you. That was clear from how he would coax you to join him with gentle words and fleeting touches. How he would stain your skin and leave an imprint of your body on his bedsheets.

Anything other than that was muddled, muddied, lost in his own deluded mind.

“What do you want from me?” you asked him again.

Sunday fluttered his lashes at you. “Nothing at all.”

“Have you ever told the truth?”

You had instinctively drawn yourself closer to him. You leaned over the tub, fingers curled around the rim of crystal.

Sunday sighed. He looked sick, like delusion had twisted through his mind like poison ivy crawling along the walls of the gardens outside. “You are afraid of the truth.”

“You’re lying again.” He wasn’t lying, but you refused to make him feel as though he was in control.

That was he fed off.

Your fear, your touch, your taste, your words, every inch of your skin. His. All of it.

“I want everything,” he stated.

You wanted to break the tub and slit his throat with the shards of crystal.

“I want you to give yourself to me. All of yourself.”

How selfish of him.

He still views you as an offering.

You turned away and moved to storm out of the bathroom. You would wait until he was finished. You couldn’t be in the room with him.

The steam was burning your skin, and your scent on him was making your head feel like it was splitting apart.

He grabbed your face and forced you to look back.

You would have described his eyes as beautiful; golden irides with hints of plush velvet and a deep sapphire. But all he did was stare. He’d never look away, and he never wished to.

He saw things you did not.

“I want undying loyalty.” When you squirmed, he held your cheeks harder. “I want hopeless devotion. I want compassion. I want to see the silhouette of you in my bed first thing every morning.”

Your nails were frozen digging into his wrist, still wet and hot from the water.

He seemed as though he wished to say more, though refrained when he let go of your face. He’d abandoned his book now, his gaze remaining locked onto you.

Your cheeks stung from his fingerprints. You feared the patterns would be burned into your flesh.

“I want you to stop,” you whispered.

You knew what he was doing.

“Oh, I will.” This time, when his fingers raised for your face, he simply grazed them along your sore cheek. “Join me.”

You didn’t answer at first. You didn’t even move from your spot, frozen as if he’d drawn ice down your spine.

You breathed out. Your fingers were trembling.

“I’m not stupid,” you said. You were trying to convince yourself it was true.

Sunday only tilted his head. “No, you’re not stupid.”

He was already pulling the string of the bow around your waist. His wings bristled.

“I know what you’re doing,” you insisted, holding onto the fluffy material when he undid the knot holding the robe together. “I know what you’re doing.”

He smiled playfully. His hands pushed away the robe. “What am I doing?”

Your eyes welled with tears.

You don’t know what he’s doing. You are stupid.

You wished you’d never met him. You wished you’d never let soft hands and kind words and those pretty eyes of his draw you into his bed.

You shouldn’t have ever crawled back to him.

You let out a pathetic sob.

“Oh, you sweet thing.”

Sunday tutted pitifully and offered his hand.

Almost instinctively, as if it had been written in your blood since the moment you were born, you took it and leaned into his embrace.

His hair smelled of sugared tea. The feathers of his wings grazed over your face, now soaked with your tears.

He gently drew you into the water, murmuring something bordering on praise. You didn’t even hear what he said.

“I will make you all better.”

The water was hot. His lips on your cheek made you dizzy. The mirror had completely steamed up by now, and your chest pressed flush against his.

You tried to push him off you. You tried. You really did. You’d done this before, many times. Letting him break you down and watching as you lost control of your limbs and clawed at him until he held you.

He was good at that. Predicting. Letting things form the way they always did.

You were so angry. Angry at yourself, at him, at everything. Weakly, you curled your fists and hit his shoulders defeatedly. You heard him laugh.

All you did was betray yourself, surrendering and stilling as his cold hands dipped below the water.

“I will make you whole again.”

#sunday x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #yandere honkai star rail #hsr x reader #sunday x you #✦ ( the macrocosmos. )#✦ ( after hours. )

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