#and it's right next to the beach house
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asgardian--angels · 1 year ago
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folks on twitter are convinced izzy is going to die in the finale
dunno where I stand on that, as it wouldn't make narrative sense as far as I can tell, but people have pointed out a couple of shots in the trailer/bts footage where it looks like izzy's, at the very least, incapacitated, and then a later scene with a grave on the beach. the episode description says 'a devastating loss' which, yknow, isnt reassuring
that being said - I'm more confident that the Revenge is going to be destroyed somehow. the tagline for this season is 'prepare to have your ship wrecked' which is most likely a double entendre, referring not just to ed and stede but the literal ship too. this could also be the 'devastating loss' and what jenkins is referring to partly as 'the end of piracy' - and the circumstances around ed and stede leaving off the season living in that beach shack. the revenge is sacrificed/caught in the crossfire during the battle with the English, and works to symbolize Ed and Stede leaving that life behind.
could be both. who's to say. I'd hate to lose Izzy after he's worked so hard to break free from the confinement of pirate culture, and after the incredible performance Con has given us. the season opened with izzy dying in a dream; on the one hand, it would be cyclical to have him die in the end, but on the other hand, it would be more fitting for him not to, as stede was wrong in his dream to have izzy being the thing in the way of his and Ed's happiness, when the whole season showed us otherwise. on the other other hand, izzy's comment about finally understanding that ed and stede are good for each other might be foreshadowing to him sacrificing himself so they can escape the english, as a callback to when he sold them out in season 1. suppose we'll find out in a few days...
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kittykatstiles · 5 months ago
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just finished hedwig new fic Yes to Heaven.. now what the hell i’m supposed to do next with my life
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megumi-fm · 9 months ago
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#okay random story time i don't know why im narrating this or how i even stumbled upon this memory rn#but i generally do sad vents in the tags and for a change this is a funny one#so back in highschool (i say highschool but i mean junior college) i used to visit this park near my house a lot#i was an sg kid back then and the thing about parks there is that they're kinda beach-parks and they have the best cycling/running tracks#they're also really massive parks so i used to go often. sometimes bicycling. other times walking. yeah. the park was like my sanctuary#anyway. there are quite a few bike rental areas in the park and there was a cute lil shop next to this one particular rental place#and they sold like biscuits and water and icecreams and stuff and i went there a lot#and on one particular day i went there and there was this guy around my age part timing at that shop#now again this might be culture specific bc i dont see it in india but part timing in uni/pre-uni is pretty common is sg#a lot of shops and restaurants employ teenagers to twenty something ppl for part time jobs... anyway im just adding context#point is that i had walked to the park with my mum that day and she told me to go buy a couple icecreams so i went to the shop#and i saw this guy around my age and like. not to be a simp but this dude was so pretty?#like he saw someone had come to the counter so he looked up and shot a smile and i thought i got slapped by sunlight#i could spend the next several lines going on about his pretty tan skin and his glowing raven eyes but this is pathetic enough so ill stop#anyway he saw me and smiled really wide (customer service smile- i thought to myself) and i smiled back and asked for icecreams or whatever#and then this guy started getting chatty right. so he was all 'you come here (to the park) often right? ive seen you with your bike a lot'#see now. the problem with me is that i always think im bothering people. this poor dude was attempting to make conversation#and i was replying with one word answers#and i wasn't even realizing that he didnt want that. bc he kept asking more questions and i. kept. shutting them down.#then when he gave me the icecream he was all 'are you here alone? icecream alone is no fun... i could keep you company if you want..?'#which. he was being really cute about right. but because im so fucking dense i was all 'oh no i came with my mom actually'#and he went 'aw man' in this really cute but faux sad way which i didnt understand at the time and i left and then#after three full fucking days. i realized this man was tryna hit on me?#and then i went to the park like a week later and he was gone. poof. i even thought of asking the uncle in charge of that place#then i got too embarrassed and chickened out#yeah so turns out my neurodivergence neutralizes any sort of rizz that comes my way#i could've been chilling with a cute boyf rn but no😩 this is my destiny#megumi in the tags
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doom-dreaming · 1 year ago
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god help me i'm back on my bullshit
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alexisrosemullens · 6 months ago
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Jfc I will cry if my water heater goes out. It’s only three years old.
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anqelbean · 5 months ago
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LOL the dutch lady that lives next to my uncles tried suing them for the work they're doing behind their house saying they're encroaching on her property but the cadastre shows SHE'S the one over the property line LOLOLOLOL
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kisssukuna33 · 12 days ago
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HusbandSukuna! Who's never been the one to understand today's relationships. 50/50? No, his woman will never touch a single bill with her delicate fingers as long as he's alive and well.
HusbandSukuna! Who never understood the whole "giving your relationship time before proposing" thing. You aren't a real man if you drag out your relationship and take what you have for granted, Atleast that must have been what he was thinking when he put a big rock on your finger after dating for only 7 months.
HusbandSukuna! Who takes his role as your fiancé VERY seriously. He asked you to move in with him just right after he proposed. He does everything he can to make sure you feel comfortable in his house. He even went as far to renovate half of the house to your liking despite your much protesting that it's not needed.
HusbandSukuna! Who checks everyday to see if you are wearing the ring he put on you. it almost become a habbit for him to kiss the ring in your finger every single morning. Not just in the morning, whenever you two hangout in the public he intentionally kisses it to give other people the signal that his girl is strictly taken.
HusbandSukuna! Who wants to get married as soon as possible but he respect your time and choices. He doesn't want you to get overwhelmed by this at all, so he waits patiently ( had to restraint himself from asking like 5 times)
HusbandSukuna! Who gets so freaking happy when you finally confront him about being ready for marriage. The moment those words slip from your mouth his hands instantly go to your waist to pull you closer, closer till your foreheads are touching, He places a warm kiss on your temple and the next thing you hear makes your heart warm and fuzzy.
"You are the best thing that ever happened to me, I promise to be the best husband and I swear on my life I will take care of you and protect you till I die, I love you"
HusbandSukuna! Who jumps straight into the wedding planning. He hears from his married friends how stressful wedding planning was to them and he determines to not make you experience any bit of the stress, He tries everything in his power to make things go smooth as possible.
HusbandSukuna! Who breakdown in tears the moment he saw you walking the aisle to everyone's shock. The grumpy tatted 6'4 scary big guy who has given them nothing but attitude crying over seeing the love of his life walking down aisle? Who would have thought.
HusbandSukuna! Who immediately intertwine your fingers with his as he looks into your eyes like he sees nothing but the whole world in them and wait no minute to whisper "The prettiest, mine"
HusbandSukuna! who finally breaks free from his staring as the wedding officiant clears his throat to let him know that there's a whole wedding left to finish.
Everyone expect him to do a short vow and get done with it. Sukuna isn't known as the most expressive guy after all, but to everyone's surprise the vow lasted whole 15 minutes!! It was filled with nothing but love and appreciation for you and the little grin plastered in his mouth at the end of the vow makes it obvious how proud he was of himself ( I mean practicing this costed him a years worth friend too, after he suggested Sukuna to add some dirty degrading sex joke about you in the vows he ended up punching the guy as a result, so hell yeah he's proud of this!)
HusbandSukuna! Who keeps the honeymoon destination as a surprise till last minute, and your heart fills with joy as you realize he took you back to the beach you two first met, a place special to you both.
He booked the hotel room with the best view to the beach as expected.
HusbandSukuna! Who's heart feel warm all of a sudden, it's only a year ago he believed himself to be someone who's unable to be loved. Oh how much have changed since then.
HusbandSukuna! Who takes your hand and drags you to the balcony for a dance.
The smell of the beach, evening lightening, sounds of the ocean..All adds to the atmosphere as you two get lost in yourselves.
HusbandSukuna! Who takes a glance at the beach and sees a young family, not much older than both of you playing in the sand with their little girl.
HusbandSukuna! Who has a small smile tugged at his lips as he mentally promises to himself that he will return here again after you two finally complete your own little family.
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No grammar checks, forgive me I'm too lazy
What do we think about part 2?
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fazcinatingblog · 1 year ago
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okay so this is a weird confession but i'd never actually watched the music video for Anti Hero.... until now.
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whytheylosttheirminds · 4 months ago
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the boy is mine - r.c.
(blurb, 1.4k words, season 4 bf!rafe x gf!reader)
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summary he's got finally got his shit tight, but now everybody wants him, and that just won't do...
content fem receiving oral, 18+ minors do not interact
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
The sun was hot and angry, casting a golden glow on Rafe as he cracked another beer and threw it back. You watched his tall frame from your beach chair, lip between your teeth as you took in the sharp panes of his stomach. You squirmed slightly while your eyes tracked the little trail of hair that led lower, lower…
But you weren’t the only one looking. 
The music bumped through someone’s speaker as a group of bikini-clad girls pulled up their chairs and umbrellas right next to your group’s coveted spot.
Your friend leaned over in her beach chair, “think someone’s got eyes for your man.” You followed her nod to the gaggle of bottle blondes with fake tans who were whispering to each other and smiling in his direction. 
“That’s cute,” you snorted.
Rafe was none the wiser to their stares, reaching his hand down to help you to your feet, pulling you toward the water behind him.
“Think you’ve got some fans,” you told him once you were bobbing in the waves, your arms around his neck as he crouched low to meet your eyeline.
He smirked, “maybe I should go sign some autographs.”
You smacked his shoulder, making him laugh despite your pouty frown. He stood from the water, lifting you with him so they could see your legs wrap around his waist. He grabbed your ass, holding you up with ease as his lips found yours.
The girls on the beach were suddenly very busy checking their phones and setting up umbrellas, disappointed looks on their faces as Rafe showed you off.
Back at his house, Rafe lead you into the outdoor shower, turning on the lukewarm water to wash the sea and sand from your body. When he caught you frowning, he tapped the side of your head gently, his signature way of asking what’s on your mind.
“I’m glad you’re so successful, I just don’t like that everybody suddenly wants what’s mine,” you explained.
He looked down at you, eyelids low as his gaze traveled over your body. His hands slid up your sides slowly, thumbs slipping under the thin string of your bikini top, sweeping over your ribs.
“So possessive,” he smirked.
“Just think everyone should know you’re off limits by now,” you whispered, stepping closer to him until you were chest to chest.
You nudged your nose against his neck, guiding him to tilt his chin up and reveal his throat to you. Your lips started out soft, tickling him with little kitten licks between each gentle kiss. When you reached his Adam’s apple, you let your teeth graze over the sensitive skin. Rafe winced, his obvious erection pressing against your belly and making you hungrier for him than ever. 
Finally, you sucked harder, right where his neck meets his broad chest. After a few moments of pressure, you pulled back and wiped the glossy spit from your lips, smiling in satisfaction at the purple-blue mark you left on him. You moved to leave another, but he interrupted you.
“Bet those girls on the beach wouldn’t tease me this much,” he grumbled.
You responded by wrapping your fingers around his throat. He chuckled smugly under your hold, deep vibration tickling your palm. It’s merely a symbolic gesture, your small hand doesn’t even fit half way around his neck. You squeezed harder, but he was still smiling. You narrowed your eyes at him, no more fucking around.
Your hand snaked up higher, around to the back of his neck. As you ran your fingers up over his buzzed hair, you let your nails scratch enough to raise goosebumps along his skin. When you reached as high as you could go, standing up on your tiptoes and still nowhere near matching his height, you pressed his head down hard, nails digging into his scalp. 
Rafe stumbled for just a second before understanding the assignment. He lowered to his knees slowly, shuffling forward until your back brushed against the wall, the water from the shower cascading over your shoulders and down your body.
“Bet those girls on the beach couldn’t make you drop to your knees without saying a single word either,” you taunted him.
He grabbed your hips and dug his fingers in, pushing you back against the wall hard.
“Tell me who else, baby,” you continued, “who else can put big bad Rafe Cameron on his knees? Hmm?”
His stare was icy as he looked up at you from the ground. You returned your hand to the top of his head, redirecting his gaze to your bikini bottoms.
“Show me who you belong to, baby boy.”
You could tell he was considering fighting back, the desire for control almost tempting enough to bring him back to his feet. But then he saw the growing wet spot over your center. Licking his lips, he nodded slowly, like a king admiring his feast.
His long fingers untied your bathing suit strings one at a time, causing the thin fabric to fall away and leave you bare in front of him. You lifted one foot to his shoulder, lowering him even further.
Rafe looked up at you, eyelashes fluttering over his pretty blue eyes as he spread you with his first and middle finger, his tongue flicking between them and hitting right where you needed it to.
“Exactly like that,” you sighed, head falling back so the water from the showerhead ran through your hair like a waterfall. “You know just what to do.”
No rush, he took his time. This was his house. He could take you on any surface, in any room, at any time. And he would. But first he was gonna make you come on his tongue right out in the open air. 
He’d developed this whole neighborhood, practically running this half of the island at this point. All these new houses were filled with people who owed him money. He runs this shit, and yet here he was, on his knees for you. The thought was so fucking hot, you had to bite back your moan.
“Nah let it out, angel,” he coaxed between sharp licks to your clit. “I want you to scream ‘til the neighbors hear, yeah?”
You smiled big at that command, “you want all your new neighbors to hate you?”
“I don’t care what they think as long as their checks clear.” 
He lowered his mouth to your entrance, lapping you up, grinding his nose back and forth on your clit until he was completely buried, covered in you. You couldn’t even feel the water falling on you anymore, your skin on fire with pleasure. Rafe’s hands slid up your thighs and over your stomach, before slipping under your bikini top and palming your tits with perfect pressure.
As instructed, you let your moans and cries fly. When he let one hand fall from your chest so he could slip two fingers inside you, curling at the knuckles and tapping the tips against your g-spot, your whole body trembled.
“Mmm, that’s perfect,” you praised. “You gonna make me come all over your face?”
“Fuck yes,” he groaned, licking a long stripe across your clit. “Make a mess for me, baby.”
He circled back, dragging his tongue the other way as his fingers danced along your walls. Your foot pushed hard against his shoulder, like you were trying to stomp him out, but he held himself up against you, the burning stretch in your thigh only adding to the intense pleasure.
“Oh my god! Yes, yes Rafe!”
You soaked him, one hand on his head and the other digging into the flesh of his shoulder as you came.
When you finally cooled down, body weak and wrung out with pleasure, he stood and guided you even further under the cool stream of the shower. He rubbed his hand along your inner thigh, letting the remnants of your high wash down the drain. 
“Now why the fuck would I need any other girl when you give me that, huh?”
“That’s right, baby,” you agreed with a blissed out grin. “I got so much more for you, too.”
Rafe carried you into the house, and he didn’t even have to ask for you to get on your knees. 
Before you started, he made sure all the windows were wide open so everyone in the neighborhood could hear exactly who he belonged to.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
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cc-cuttlefishculler · 1 year ago
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i wish i had like a lawn chair or somehtign. so i could set up shop at the beach and just hang the fuck out
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dilf-docs · 1 month ago
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To The Devil I Know
bfd!joel miller x younger!reader
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summary: your infamous girl's trip with your best friend sarah gets crashed by his overprotective dad.
warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., fingering, oral (m. and f. receiving), brat taming, it's pussy spanking time again bc i do in fact like it a lot, praise/daddy kink sprinkled somewhere, reader calls him mr. miller A LOT, exhibition kink (v nasty), degradation kink (he calls her little slut), pantie sniffing, dirty talk (they have a sentence awaiting in horny jail), y/n grinds on joel's nose bc yeah i too want that, this is contradicting but lwk sub!joel bc that man's touch starved as HELL, may do a part two idk pls give it love, dad!bod joel bc i say so (yummy), no angst (wtf dilf-docs? the angst gods are so pissed off rn)
word count: 7,195 words
side note: this request got me HOOKED the moment i opened it and since i'm currently on a pedro hyperfixiation rn, we need to put the mental illness to good use. also, this is lwk based on the song by suki waterhouse devil i know! :) i'm seeing that i have two joel fics with devil in the title btw something something abt nickels and not being a lot but weird it happened twice also WE HIT 300 FOLLOWERS??? (and its 1am and i have to wake up at 4am is anyone surprised atp...)
part: prev | masterlist | next
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"Sarah!" you shout, "get your ass out here you looser!"
It's probably eight in the morning, and here you are, honking and shouting in the middle of the quiet calm suburbs.
When you spot her curly head running towards you in a rush, you know she's pissed.
"Stop screaming!" she shouts back, "my neighbours will hate me"
You've known Sarah since you were kids. When you first moved to Texas, she was the only one who spoke to you in school. You grew up with her among white picket fences and scrapped knees, mantaining the friendship even as you moved away, until your return for college.
"Why would I even care? I don't live here!" you joke from the driver's seat, hopping off and giving her a hug. "I'm sorry but I can't help it. I'm just so excited for this trip, we've been planning it for ages!"
You keep talking excitedly about your plans, not noticing how her face falls.
"Yeah, about that..."
"You girls ready?" a third voice enters the picture, definitely not belonging to a girl.
"Uh, Sarah" you breath in, "Why the fuck is your dad here?"
In all his glory: Joel Miller, a guy you haven't seen in forever, too busy living in the dorms, girl dates with Sarah often out of her house. You wanted to explore the world: you weren't ten anymore, and the suburbs lost all of it's appeal they had when you were the age of Barbies and drawing on chalk.
"Listen, y/n. I tried, I really tried. But as soon as I opened my mouth, he started to pack his bags"
"Isn't your dad always busy at work?" you inquire, another one of the reasons Joel's face isn't a fresh memory in your head.
"That's part of the problem. He took all of the pending vacations he had at once" she sighs, sounding as dissapointed as you are. "I understand if you don't want to go"
"Are you being serious right now?" you chuckle dryly. "No, absolutely not. I saved for this trip, packed my favorite outfits and aced all my classes so my parents would allow me. Nothing is going to ruin this for me: not you, not your dad. So we'll go and we'll have all the fun we planned, yeah?" you express firmly, holding her hands. "We will have our girl summer, no matter what. Even if we have to ignore the elephant in the room..."
"Did you just call me fat?"
You turn around, and there he is: the uninvited. Joel Miller's aged face stands before you, strong arms flexing under the pressure of a couple of suitcases.
"No" you reply back, "just a nuissance"
He chuckles at your response, amused. "If you thought I'd let my babygirl go alone with you to the beach and get shit-faced drunk, you're not as smart as I remember, y/n"
Your name would always be on his tongue to call you out. Y/n, don't do that. Y/n apologize to the neighbours. Y/n, slow down. Y/n, don't be so stubborn. You were always a troublemaker, and his lips would only know how to pronounce your name if to berate you. But now, as his mouth says your name with a newly learned tone, dripping with dare and amusement, you can't help but feel a fire ignite that burns your skin.
"Dad!" Sarah calls out, taking you out of your thoughts. She flushes in embarrasment, and you scoff at the idea of giving too much of your time to think about Mr. Miller of all people. "I'm not ten anymore, we'll be just fine"
"You're barely of legal age!" he counters back. "What if somethin' was to happen to you, huh? I'd never forgive myself"
You get annoyed at his over-the-top reactions. What did he think you were gonna do? The wildest thing you had in mind was getting drunk while sitting in the sand. Not even in the water! You may be a wild spirit, but stupid you're not.
"Look, Mr. Miller" he cocks his head to the side, daringly so, almost as if waiting for you to try. "I don't know what you're thinking, but this isn't Driveway Dolls" he looks at you confused, so you try again, "Or Thelma and Louise, whatever suits your fucking old ass. Alright? This is a girls trip, heard that? Just two bestfriends enjoying their youth and summer without boys around to ruin it for them"
"Boys?" he laughs. "Too bad, then, 'cause sweetheart, I'm a man"
Your breath hitches, but you're not going to let him win; you always need to have the last word.
"Well, man up and let your daughter be free for once!"
Sarah covers her face with her palms, clearly knowing her dad more. This is a lost battle.
"Stop, y/n. Please. Dad's impossible to bend"
"He's ruining our trip!" you protest, feeling like a child throwing a tantrum.
"Take it or leave it" he leans against his truck, crossing his arms. Your eyes dart to the strained fabric of his sleeves, and when he chuckles, you don't know if he noticed or it's because of his imminent victory.
"Fine!" you throw your hands in the air, dramatically so. "Welcome on board, intruder"
Joel Miller smiles, and maybe it's the rare sight, not even common back in the day, that makes your heart skip a beat.
"And we're taking my truck"
"Are you being serious right now?!" Was this man going to take away all your freedom?
He laughs, mockingly. Rage bubbles in your chest, along something darker you aren't going to admit just yet.
"There is no way my daughter is going on a fucking hatchback to the beach"
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You try to distract yourself talking to Sarah in the backseat, but her dad's prying glances time to time from the rear view mirror have you shifting uncomfortably on your seat.
He's persistent, always has been. Joel Miller, just as Sarah said, wasn't a man who could be bent. You'd remember thinking he was a sort of superhero: unbreakable. Whenever Sarah needed help, a pair of strong arms would be there, ready to take the weight off of her shoulders. He was now older, as you have noticed: grey and wrinkles sprayed all over his face. And now, the worst part of it all:
Age had made him infuriatingly attractive.
Unfair, you think, that a man so bitter that only seemed to worry and nag, was blessed with the rare quality of aging like wine. You can deny it anymore: whatever Joel Miller has now that he didn't before is working on you like a lovesick spell.
You look again to the front, just in time to catch one of his subtle (not really) stares. You keep the eye contact, only he tears away his gaze first, something akin to regret and fear circling on his warm brown orbs. The fire from before cracks inside of your belly, and the anticipation begins.
If he was going to ruin your trip, you might as well return the favor.
"M' gonna stop for gas" he says after some minutes of silence, deviating towards a gas station.
You take the opportunity to get out of the truck to strech your legs. Sarah does so too, but then whispers into your ear:
"Tell my dad I need to go to the bathroom. Don't want him worrying"
As if you'll talk to him. Despite that, you nod and she leaves you alone with her annoying dad.
"Reckless too, huh?" Joel appears by your side, almost making you drop your phone. "You know you're not s'pposed to use the damn phone on a gas station? Good thing I ain't let my daughter go alone with you"
You put your phone down. "Reckless? I know what I'm doing" but you sound nervous, for some reason.
"You haven't changed at all, have you?" Joel says, his voice surprisingly soft.
You heart gets stuck in your throat at the sudden shift, "I suppose not"
"I get that you hate me" he confesses, done filling the tank, "but I couldn't let the two of you go alone"
Your cheeks turn pink at the accusation, "I don't hate you"
He laughs, and the sound has something stirring in the lower of your belly. Why is Joel Miller of all people provoking feelings in you no other boy has ever provoked? You're used to playing with boys as you please, and you come to realize that's where the difference lies: you don't know how to handle a man.
A man so strong, your eyes don't leave him as his arms flex while pumping the gas, the delicious peek his simple white shirt gives you not going unnoticed; droplets of sweat on his temple, sliding down his jawline then getting lost down the crook of his neck. You lick your lips on instinct, horrified when you realize what you've just thought and done.
"Damn right you don't"
You could say you've reached some kind of truce, but then Sarah comes back, and when you look at Joel again, he's reverted to that annoying apathic state of his, but instead of bothering you, it only makes you want more.
"Hey" he says to Sarah, "where you went?"
"I had to pee, dad. Relax" she dismisses, shooting at you a can-you-believe-it look.
He walks away, ready to jump in the driver's seat again, when he turns around to whisper to Sarah:
"Don't ever leave me again" tone stern, "not with her"
But you hear.
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You arrived late, the sun hiding behind the large body of water that seemed infinite.
"I can't believe we missed the first sunset!" you whine. "It was going to look so good on my Instagram stories..."
"This generation and their problems" Joel scoffs, taking the suitcases to the house you've rented for the next two days.
The answer is right at the tip of your tongue, but you decide to be the bigger person and remain quiet. If he wants to play, you better play smart.
"Dad, please" Sarah calls him out, and you have to hide a laugh. "Don't fight with y/n"
"I ain't doing shit" he sneers, crossing his bulking arms.
Sarah walks past him, muttering against his childishness. That angers Joel, who tries to remain cool.
"I know you hate me" you suddenly appear by his side. Your vainilla scent gets up on his nose, invading his body of you. "I just think you should try, for Sarah"
"I don't hate you" he answers, and now it's your turn to laugh.
"Yeah? Doesn't seem like it, Mr. Miller" it comes out before you can stop it, and there's something dark lurking behind his brown eyes piercing through you.
"I don't" sounding more sure this time. Serious too.
"You'll have to prove that"
You enjoy the surprise on his face and the light pink sprinkled across his cheeks.
"Prove that?"
You nod, finding all of this suddenly funny.
"Hmh, you heard me. Prove it, Mr. Miller. That you don't hate me"
But before he can respond, your bestfriend is back.
"Y/n, come on! You need to check the house. It has a shared balcony!" Sarah beams giddy.
You let her excitement infect you, taking her hand as you go inside the house. Joel stays back, your words ringing on his ears.
On the other hand, Sarah and you check the room together.
"Look this" she points at one of the mirrors in the room: it has details that remind you of the sea. "Isn't it cute?"
"It is" you agree, "we should take a picture"
"Okay. But use your phone" she says, "mine died on the road"
You're about to pull it out when you feel your pockets empty.
"It's... not here"
"You might have left it in the car" she tries to help.
"Yeah" you try to remain level-headed, "I'll go search for it"
You return to the truck, pressing your head against the window. Just like your friend guessed, it's there, abandoned on the seat.
"Lost somethin'?"
You gasp, turning around. Joel Miller's face is centimeters away from yours, breathing heavily as his body cages your smaller frame against the truck's doors.
"My phone" you find your voice after what feels like eternity, "it's inside the car"
"Need help with that?" his voice sounds low, whisper easily to be confused with a growl.
You don't know how to answer, scared for the first time of where your mouth could take you. So your solution is to nod, and step aside for him to open the car.
"There you go" he's dropping it in your hands, fingers lightly brushing yours. There's a shiver down your spine despite the cool weather, and you know damn well it's all his fault. He may feel it too, by the way he takes a step back, putting some distance.
"Need anything else?" but it feels like a slap to the face, as if he's challenging you to speak what you've been thinking but are too coward to do when he stands before you.
"No" you mentally slap yourself for how pathetic you sound, "this is all I needed, Mr. Miller. Thanks"
You look back one last time, despite it all. And there it is: that same look he gave you in the car.
"Anytime" but it falls deaf to your ears, as you basically ran away from him.
Him and his imposing presence, enough to make your legs tremble and your mind to stop working. Him and his smell, that brings you back to simpler times and reminds you of a a secret place in the woods, musk getting under your skin. Him and his breath, hitching when you touch hands. Him and his beating heart, just as loud as yours.
"Took you long" Sarah comments when you return, "I was already falling asleep"
She doesn't know or suspect, you tell yourself, but that doesn't stop you from feeling sick.
That night, as Sarah lays by your side and you try to sleep, all you can think about is his big hands, the lingering feeling of a warm touch. And then Joel, stepping back―coming to his senses, as if something is holding him back.
Anytime.
You can't help but wonder what stopped him.
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Days have blurred between drinks by the poolside, waves crashing, wet sand in your fingers and sun carressing skin.
Despite what happened, Joel remains in the shadows, letting you and Sarah enjoy your trip in peace. You may be spending time with your bestfriend, but his presence hangs in the air, impregnated with his strong pine and whisky smell, looming over you like a shadow; suffocating, like his scent is all you can breath. You hate how your mind keeps going back to him, because despite your inicial claims to ruin him, that wasn't the purpose of this vacation, yet Joel seems to have infected you with a need that corners your mind to think of him and him only. The greed you feel is unnatural, like a spell has been cast upon you. He may be far, just as you wanted, and you should enjoy that, but it's that very same distance that is driving you insane.
Today, you and Sarah decided to go diving and then play volleyball.
The day ends, the sun sets, and so does the tiredness. But as Sarah's snores fill your ears, you toss around the bed, trying to conceal sleep to no avail.
Staring at the ceiling, you kept drifting back to Joel, mind wondering and heart racing at thoughts of strong arms caging you, warmth in your body that the breeze creeping through flowing curtains fails to provide.
The sound of wood creaking jolts you awake. His silhoutte is hard to miss, and your eyes follow it cross your bedroom. You pretend to be asleep, his scent up your nose as he walks in careful measured steps, trying not to wake you up. He looks back at Sarah, and the moonlight betrays him when it shines over his eyes, revealing an adoration that gnaws your chest.
He keeps walking, until he reaches the shared balcony. It's then that you make a choice, heart pounding in your chest as you race yourself from bed, going his way.
You go outside, finding him resting his arms on the balcony, facing the beach in silence. Soft waves crash against the wet sand, but not even that can overpower the sound of your beating heart.
"What're you doin' here?" he's asking, even if you haven't moved from your spot. Seems like your friend wasn't joking about his heightened senses, despite his old age. "Thought y'were 'sleep"
"Well, Sarah is a fast sleeper" you answer, walking to his side.
"She sure is" and the faintest of a smile appears on his face.
Joel Miller is a mystery to you: the most closed off man you've ever met, hiding behind his apparent apathy that only seems to be gone whenever Sarah is around. She's the apple of his eye, and those soft traces of a more tamed character that come to light have truly picked your interest, begging for more crumbs that will help you puzzle who he really is: he, that is as handsome as a mystery. The worst is, you don't know what attracts you more.
But you won't let him win.
"Mr. Miller?"
"Yeah?"
"Were you married?"
He looks at you, dark eyes partly iluminated by the moonlight.
"Aren't you a bit too young to be bold?"
"And aren't you too hot to be all alone?" you reply in an instant, rendering him speechless.
He chuckles, but it sounds defeated rather than amused.
"Trust me, kid" he's back at facing the ocean. Goddamn coward. "This isn't what you want"
"Don't call me kid" you berate, almost repulsed at it. "I'm twenty one"
He scoffs. "Still hella young"
"But I know what I want" a wavering hand ready to trace over his pecs, but he's stopped you before it descends. Before it's too late.
"You don't" he assures, grip on your hand stronger, without knowing how much you're enjoying this. Or maybe he does. "See? That's the problem with you kids: you think you do, but you don't"
You loose your patience.
"Tell me then, Mr. Miller. Would a kid do this?"
Taking the distraction, the same hand flies now to grop his dick, and to your surprise, it's already hard.
"Seems I'm not the only one who doesn't know what they want"
"Stop" he warns, hissing when your eager fingers unbuckle his belt. It's huge, for some reason, and you can't help but feel an ardent throb at the thought of grinding on it.
When your eyes look at Joel, he swears he sees you devilishly smirk, almost as if you were mocking him.
"Stop?" you bite your lip, feigning innocence as doe eyes look where dark ones had done before. "If that's what you want, you aren't even trying"
You kneel down, and the position gives you the perfect side of his adam's apple bobbing in a nervous gulp. He grows insecure under your intense stare, breath hitching when the wind hits his now free member as you pull down his underwear, revealing it hard and leaking with precum. You laugh delighted, with victory, and he finds himself trapped between the moon and your games, drowning on a sea feet away.
"I think I know what you want"
"How? You don't even know what you want" barely fighting it.
Your fingers grace over his soft abdomen, tracing down his belly and happy trail. Your teeth nip at the skin scattered with soft rosy lines, peppering the skin with fluttering kisses to entertain your mouth until your digits touch his hard cock. Joel whines, squirming, and you're delighted with the receptiveness, needy sounds escaping his lips.
You haven't even started yet.
"You're right, I don't" you agree. "All I know is you piss me off and that you ruined our trip, so I'm gonna take my anger out on you one way... or another"
You take your first lick, savouring the dark red head. His hips buck, a shaky gasp robbed from his chapped lips.
"Fuck" he exhales weakly, lost against the sound of water.
"Don't worry, Mr. Miller. I'll take good care of you" admiring his girth. He looks down on you, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Joel can't lie and say he isn't fascinated with the way you look at him, not believing so much appetite can fit in such a small young body. Not even his partners before you, had looked at him like he was the best thing in the world, and now here you were: the loud-mouthed brat best friend of his daughter, sucking his cock while Sarah slept just a few meters away. Just yersteday he was bickering with you, not standing your spoiled attituted and juvenile spirit that can't be tamed and won't shut up. Hell, you had even disrespected him. But here he is, not being able to find the words or actions to stop you: because he doesn't want to.
It was all so fucked up.
But then you're closing your lips around his swollen head, and he knows there's no point in fighting it anymore, his whole body urging him to give in.
"Oh, fuck" he pants, getting all worked up as you take him deeper. "Keep goin'. You're doin' a great job, sweetheart"
The praise gets to you, even if not needed.
Your tongue swirls, running the muscle with wet slides, up and down, tip to base, some pressure applied. You proceed to take in his balls, feeling him tense up. You wanted to mock him badly, but your mouth was full of his dick, so that wasn’t happening.
"D-don't stop" he pleads, sounding more like a whine.
He's deep enough that it hits your throat. You've never been this greedy, but also, have never tried with a dick so big. You feel him in the roof of your mouth, your lips at the base of the tip, brushing against skin. Joel can't keep up: breath hitching, moans ragged and consumed, barely standing if it wasn't for your hands digging in his thighs for support.
You keep building pace, seeing Joel's face scrunch up.
"M' close" his voice comes out strained, his head tilting back, wild soft locks from before now plastered against his forehead, dripping with sweat. His muscles tense, you can feel it, and it's just about time before he's coming inside your mouth.
You want it. To taste more of him, who you claim to hate but feels oh so good. Strong, just as his presence.
"So good, fuck, you're so good" in a tone so needy and desperate. It falls out of his lips, followed by more unintelligible praises dripping from his tongue.
And then, in a shaky breath, lost to the wind:
"Y/n"
You gasp, and he feels it, the air ticklish on his sensitive skin.
Joel said your name.
Your name, in a way it had never been said before. Uttered like a prayer, submerged in devotion. Your name, melting into his moans, deep within him, the calling full of a primal desire. The experience is intoxicating, making you crave more.
Joel comes with a groan, head falling back. Your name dies on his lips as his hips thrust up with your lips closing in. Thick spurts of cum mix with saliva in the back of your throat. You pull out, a string of saliva still connecting you to his dick. He looks down on you, body shaking as much as yours. Without breaking eye contact, he wipes some of the mess drooling from your lips, his calloused thumbs carresing you with a softness you didn't think was possible. The contrast makes you falter a bit, and you know Joel notices.
"There you go" your voice comes out hoarse, avoiding his eyes, "now you know what you want"
He chuckles, giving you a hand to stand up. As you raise to your feet, his face is barely inches away from yours. You can see the lines time has marked across his face, the grays coloring hair you remember to be brown, and those eyes―piercing through you like they know you better than you know yourself.
"But do you?"
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Joel Miller doesn't know what is regret.
He didn't feel it when Sarah arrived unexpectedly at the ripe age of twenty, forcing him out of college. He didn't feel it when Sarah's mother left him alone to raise his daughter all by himself, aware he had tried it all to make it work. He surely didn't feel it when you came back after leaving Texas, long gone the childlike wonder and features that made him see you as an extension of his daughter, his gaze lingering a bit too long on this familiar face in a beautiful blooming new body.
But this is different, and he isn't sure if, for the first time, he's finally known what is regret.
Joel Miller also doesn't know when to back out of a fight.
He remember his brother Tommy, practically begging to let go of some asshole that dared to pick up on him, knuckles bloody no matter if he was young then and old as stubborn now, the same red painted across his willfull hands.
But now those hands prickle and sweat, no matter how much he runs them over the fabric of his jeans. And now, as your dangerous stare pierces through him across the small table, Sarah oblivious to the game as she quietly munchs her cereal, Joel Miller backs down, his gaze the first to look away.
He realizes just now why he was so afraid to look up to the sky after you left. The same stars that stared back from the high of the dark night are akin to the ones dancing in your eyes.
"Mr. Miller" your voice breaks his train of thoughts.
"Where's Sarah?" he asks in a panicked voice, realizing you've been left alone.
"Brushing her teeth" you answer, slightly taken back by his tone. "We were going out today, remember?"
Ah, yes. A little tour to an island not to far away from there.
"M' not goin'. Sorry, kid" he's decided. Before you can speak, Sarah returns and asks the question herself.
"M' tired. That's all" but it sounds rather an excuse.
"Are you sure, dad?" Sarah presses, not sure why he had changed his mind at the last minute.
"Yeah" he insists, all while avoiding those eyes of yours, unsatisfied and searching for answers of questions qithout a voice. "You girls go and have fun"
So you do.
You go and feel like you're inside of Mamma Mia (your favorite movie; both of you learned ABBA's discography thanks to it, something that offended your parents), the sun reflecting in the water, the little island with its green and sun, and the flowers that dust their petals into the shore where your boat arrives.
But when the trip is over and soft waves rock your return, you think of Joel.
You think you should feel at least a little ashamed of becoming so obssesed with a man in barely two days, who, on top of it all, is your bestfriend's dad. But then you remember the taste of him inside your mouth, how his dick had rasped against your throat, his seed warm in the tip of your tongue. And then his eyes, promises meant to be broken locked away behind tides of fear, that do an excellent job of reminding you how easy is to drown; to fall for how in hazel flickers, Joel seems he'd give you the world.
"Let's get drunk" you deadpan once you're back at the shore.
Sarah laughs at your determination, then realizes you're serious.
"What?"
"Yeah, it's our last day here" you reason. "Besides, your dad isn't here. What's he going to say?"
If you sound between angry and dissapointed at his absence, Sarah remains quiet.
"We're running away" she tries one last time, but by the look in your eyes, you've made your choice.
"Are we? We're twenty-one, Sarah. We can do whatever the fuck we want" you feel rebellious all of a sudden, "what? Don't you wanna give this trip a grand finale?"
So you crash into the nearest bar and waste the night away, drinking and dancing. But you're ordering a drink you don't like, and in every glass of whiskey down your throat, his name hangs in the air like the memory of his smell, locked behind a vault as if it's too sacred to say. But when Sarah gets a boy to dance and lends his friend to you, you wish there was rough where soft meets your skin, and chapped when you kiss his lips. Your body burns ablaze with sweat, alcohol and regret, a dangerous combination that makes you pull Sarah out of the bar when you feel you're about to black out. She complains, but you're set on making it to the bed before your eyelids shut.
Maybe it's because you always had what you wanted, or maybe it was the forbidden, but whatever reason had pushed you in Joel's orbit, refused to let you go.
And maybe you're imagining his voice, scolding you like a kid. Maybe you're seven again, and in the shadows of the bed, you've gone back to your childhood days. Y/n, y/n, y/n. That sick berating tone of his, acting like you're stupid and small.
"Fucking brat" he spats, drops of his angry scowl landing on your cheek. You then realize he's hovering over you, and it's real, not a product of your foggy mind. So you stand up, sobering up a bit, when he charges back again. "Makin' my daughter pass out? What the fuck were you thinkin'? Could've ended in the middle of the street. You're s'pposed to go to the damn island and then come back!"
Your mouth tastes like sand, but even if you've passed out a couple hours ago, the fire doesn't die. So your tongue is back, finding it's voice to say:
"Well, if you hadn't left us alone, this wouldn't have happened"
He chuckles, darkly. Humorless. "I see"
"What?" you challenge, a shiver down your spine that looses itself somewhere else.
"You got my daughter drunk as revenge"
You're mortified at the accusation, the remnants of alcohol now long gone of your system.
"Do you think I'd risk me and my friends' safety for you? Out of all people, you?" not caring if you sound bitter.
The truth sticks to your skin as uncomfortably as the sweat.
"I dunno, sweetheart. That's why I'm asking you" the pet name rolls effortlessly, in a rough voice that creates a wet spot in your panties. He gets closer, and you can see the tremble of his lips as he lets out a shaky breath. "Be a good girl and answer"
"I won't tell you shit" you spit.
"You little minx, thinkin' you can run your tongue like it ain't been 'round my cock before" you look like a deer caught in headlights, and Joel's enjoying this more than he should. "That's right, what'd Sarah think knowing her friend's a little slut for'er daddy's cock?"
The electric current that crosses your body sparks the fire of the woods hiding behind his auburn storms.
Now you're feeling high on a forest fire. You want the flames to engulf you, even if ashes is all there'll be left.
"Tell me you want this" his forehead clashes against yours, and the whole world falls silent, except for your ringing ears.
"I want this" and he's just as surprised as you are by the unwavering conviction. "I need you, Mr. Miller"
You try to get up, but he pushes you with full force back into your bed. Then, the base creaks, and he's on top of you, his weight pressing you against the mattress.
"What are you-"
"You think I'd let you get away easily? Have things your way? Naive lil' girl" he tuts, "I'll punish you for that"
As on cue, drowned out snores are heard from your side.
"But, Sarah-" you try to protest, his body caging you under his mercy.
"That'll mean you're behavin', right?" he runs his thumb across your lips, gently pulling them down, as if the chase was thrilling as eating the prey. "I know you don't want to wake her up and see her slut of a friend bangin' her daddy"
You tense, remaining silent at the threat, even if your body reacts other ways.
"Good girl"
He’s quick to get rid you of your shorts.
"Fuckin' hell" he murmurs against your neck, the clothing discarded somewhere in the room. "Wearin' this little shitty bottoms to rail me up, knowin' damn well when to bent and get me hard. Been thinkin' of takin' them off ever since you wore 'em first"
The confession makes you whine, and Joel's delighted by the sound, and just how putty you are under his big rough hands.
"Let's see what we got here" his large hands caress your thighs as he settles between your legs. "Black lace, baby? Such a fuckin' tease. Wore 'em for me?"
You shake your head, but his calloused digits dig on the plush skin of your thighs, making you wince at the pain.
"Don't lie to me, sweetheart. You'd said you'll be a good girl, yeah?" you nod, soaking wet, painfully so.
"Yes, I'll be"
"Show me your manners, then" he presses light kisses on the insides of your thighs, close to where you need his graying beard to tickle, "and I'll show you mine"
"Just eat me, Joel" you demand breathlessly. "Fuck. Need you, Mr. Miller, so bad"
"And why should I reward you, impatient little slut? Eager to get daddy's filthy mouth between that pretty pussy" Joel bites the inside of your thigh, and it takes all of your strength to avoid becoming a moaning mess. "You've been bad, sweetheart. A brat"
You deny it, but his head dissappears between your legs, licking the wet spot on your panties. You squirm under the teasing of his tongue, legs shutting close on instinct. You drown a whimper in your palm as he yanks your panties away.
"Don't do anything I ain't tell you to" demanding, and if you weren't this horny and out of your mind, you'd probably be scared. "There'll be consequences"
You try to obey. But then his nose, that big nose you want covered in your slick as you grind off of it between your legs, sniffs your panties. He gives it one big sniff, and then two, fingers going white as he holds the piece of fabric with too much force, shoving it on his face.
"Ye'r too fuckin' sweet, I'll give you that" he mumbles in a drunken haze. "Need to taste that drippin' cunt of yours 'night"
The bed creaks again, or maybe it's the sound of his bones starting to give in to old age, but Joel is sucking your clit, tongue pushed inside of your puffy folds. You hide a moan against his lips, hands traveling to grip his hair.
"Joel" you breathe out. 
He parts your folds easily, and before you know it, a rugged finger circles your entrance. Your back arches, and then he leaves place for his mouth again, flicking your sensitive core with his tongue. A moan a little too loud escapes your lips, making his eyes darken when the bed next to you shifts, Sarah tossing in her sleep.
"You dumb fuckin' brat. What'd I say?" his hand slams against your pussy, a sting you've never felt before, both showered in pain and pleasure, spreading across your cunt. "Don't disobey me. Apologize, now"
He stops his minstrations, and you're so achingly close to your orgasm, that the answer falls easy and rushed from your lips.
"Sorry, Mr. Miller"
"Good girl" Joel praises as he pushes his finger in, next to his tongue on your clit.
But the orgasm is so deliciously close, and you can't wait for more. So now you're grinding in his face by reflex, rubbing against his big nose just like you'd imagined. You whine at the sensation, and Joel rests his tongue flat on your clit with surprise.
"Who gave you permission to do that?" but his voice sounds more amused than nagging. "That imagination of yours is somethin' else. Have you been thinkin' bout it all this time, hmh, greedy dirty slut?"
The orgasm looms closer, hitting when Joel pushes a second rough finger in, walls clenching against his digits. He pulls away, licking his fingers with his tongue.
"Such a perfect pussy you got there, sweetheart. As sweet as you when you ain't bein' a pain in the ass"
You laugh breathless, trying to recover.
"Wanna taste?"
So now he's kissing you for the first time, his lips rough against plush skin, nibbling with your lower lips between his teeth, his tongue still tasting like you roaming free inside your mouth, like he wants to mark every corner; imprint himself in you. You've never wanted anything, hell, anyone more. The kiss leaves you hanging, heart racing at the closeness of his face and the warmhearted feeling of his lips on yours, like pieces of a puzzle fitting together.
"There you go" he chuckles, enamoured at the sight of your puffy lips. "Now it's my turn"
He's quick to get rid of the jeans and belt (oh well, it'll be another day) until he's over you, just wearing his boxers.
You'd never seen Joel naked before, why would you? But there's a vague memory of hot summer days, trying to survive the heat in the town's pool, just as the rest. He was there, eye candy for the mothers and horny teens. You hadn't understand back then, when he was all muscle, but you do know, where the mighty strenght is still hidden there, somewhere between his sturdy arms and chest as soft as his belly, round as it pushes above the only piece of cloth that forbids you to see his dick. His chest is full of hair, and God, you feel so dirty wanting to bury your face in the sweat drenched patch.
"Stop lookin' at me like that" he teases, but there is a small voice of insecurity hiding its undertones beneath his smirk under your stare.
"You're so fucking hot, Joel" comes out before you can stop it, now mouth acting up on its own.
Fuck, he thinks, he's too far gone. There's no point of return.
Your eager fingers pull down the underwear, fingers grazing the softness of his length. You slowly grabs his dick as he comes closer, never seeing anything as big and provoking as it. That makes you tighten your grip on his dick, which stands proud and tall, leaking precum, and the muscles of his thighs strain against his skin. 
He positions himself between your legs again.
"Let's put this big bad boy to use, huh?"
He grunts at your words, large hands finding your thighs for support, as he caresses up and down the skin littered with marks and kisses.
Joel pushes in. Just his tip, yet your mouth falls open at how large he already feels, and you tighten your hold on his neck.
"Tell me if it hurts" all softness on his eyes, his forehead falling against yours, as if he hadn't been punishing you just minutes ago. Your heart races at the gesture, tender meeting the rough of his edges.
The real question isn't asked, but you're on the pill and you trust him. You just want to fill him inside of you, all of him.
"I will, Mr. Miller"
He slams all the way in. You let out a broken sound, quickly muffled by his palm as he stays buried deep inside of you, givimg you time to adjust to his size. It burns, but you enjoy the way the pain feels. He slowly pulls out, before pushing all the way in again. Your slick folds take him, and he grunts, supporting his aching body by the forehead against yours one more time.
"So tight, sweetheart. Ain't nobody ruinin' this pussy but me" his growl comes out possesive as Joel establishes a steady rhythm. You softly moan as he keeps moving, pounding into you, hitting a spot no one had before, making you see stars. It gets harder to stay quiet, but Joel caputres every little sound that comes out of you in a kiss, as if that way he could preserve them better and forever.
You wrap your legs tight around him, keeping him close as your walls clench around him, his thrusts harder yet slower as he keeps going, ramming into you.
"Look at you, coatin' my dick like a fuckin' meltin' ice cream" he gently pushes it again between your folds, rubbing his dick on your clit. "So fuckin' wet, for me"
His lips are slightly parted and his eyes looked all fogged up, lost in the fire, thrusts becoming sloppier as he too feels it coming.
"So fuckin' pretty" drips from his mouth, and there's the stars in your eyes and the light you insist he's always had, even if he'd prefere the darkness. "The prettiest girl in the world with the sweetest pussy, givin' it all to this ol' perverted fuck"
The words and his big dick inside of you makes your eyes flutter shut on instinct.
"Don't sleep on me, baby" he coos, a hand brushing damp hair from your face. You recognize the look: the same in the car, on the balcony and on the poarch of his house, after letting the years go by. Back then, you thought you had dreamed it, but now that the secret saccharine sweetness reveals herself as he slams into you, you know it was real.
This is real.
You meet his gaze again and try to hold it as he pounds you so gently yet so rough, trying to show him without words that whatever this wrong and sick feeling was, you felt the same.
"Such'a good girl, takin' me so well" Joel grunts, slamming to the hilt. "Fuck, sweetheart, I'm gonna-"
His dick twitches inside of you, walls spasming around his cock as your pussy takes it all, milking him dry.
"Take it all, like the good girl you are"
Both of you pant, and it takes him a while to realize the sun is raising again until its rays hurt his eyesight.
He's about to tell you how this shouldn't be, how he, at such an old age shouldn't be pinning for his daughter's friend: so young, sweet and loud-mouthed. No matter if you felt the same, or if your body was marked in and out by him, No, because wanting isn't enough, and no tide could wash away his sins from the shore.
"Listen, y/n-" your name like he has never said it before: no scold, no malice nor lust. Just a softness he hadn't felt in years, asleep under thick layers of cold.
But your soft snores fill the silence between the beats of his heart.
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tags: @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrosgrogu thank you sm for reading! hope u enjoy it :)
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poguehearted77 · 3 months ago
Text
Stormbound
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Summary: There's a tropical storm headed straight for the OBX but Rafe won't leave you alone.
smut: dom! rafe, pogue! reader, mentions the pogues, fingering, secret alliances, rafe is a good bad guy, making out, unprotected sex, big dick rafe, choking, teasing, floor sex, missionary, protective rafe, mutual pining but both are too stubborn to admit it.
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The rain is just a steady drizzle when you start the long walk back from Figure Eight, cool and misty, soaking through your baby tee and denim shorts, but not quite cold enough to make you turn back.
Not that you would even if it were—the map you’d stuffed in your back pocket was too valuable to leave behind, and JJ had been so insistent that you’d be the one to get it.
It was a worn-out paper, a little frayed around the edges from too many hands clutching it too tight, and tonight, it held the Pogue’s best lead. JJ had been so confident about this—said it’d help them find the next clue, but you were the only one available to get it.
Just in and out, he’d said, sure as always, but of course, that had been before the storm started closing in. Even though you should've been back in the Cut by now, having ridden on the back of JJ's bike as he promised you he would, but of course, he forgot. You cross your arms and mutter to yourself, “Damn it, JJ. This better be worth it.”
The streets around you are silent, eerie even, with all the houses in Figure Eight shuttered up tight in preparation for the coming storm. It’s desolate and unsettling, making you all the more eager to get back to the Cut. But you’re barely halfway there when you hear the low rumble of an engine behind you.
Of course, you think. You don’t even need to turn around to know who it is.
Rafe’s truck slows to a crawl, matching your pace, his headlights cutting through the rain. You feel his eyes on you as he leans out the window, looking you up and down with a mix of amusement and exasperation.
“Y/n? What are you doin' out here?” he calls, loud enough to be heard over the rain.
You ignore him, quickening your steps, but he’s persistent. The truck keeps rolling alongside you, just close enough that his voice still carries over the sound of the rain.
“You know there’s a storm coming, right?” he asks, his tone somehow both mocking and concerned. “You’re not gonna make it back before it hits.” A crack of thunder roars through the sky.
“Really? I didn't know that,” you mutter, not bothering to look his way. “Just go away, Rafe.”
He lets out a sigh, exaggerated, and you can practically see him rolling his eyes. “Jesus, can you stop being so damn stubborn? Just get in the car. I'll give you a ride back to the Cut.”
“No thanks.” You keep walking, setting your jaw as you ignore the urge to shiver, the rain starting to pick up, chilling you through your soaked clothes. With another quick glance at the darkened sky, you're now considering taking the shortcut along the beach to shave off some time.
But still, Rafe doesn’t drive off. He just keeps creeping along beside you, the engine of his truck a low, constant hum as he matches your pace. “Stop fucking around, Y/n. If you get caught out here you'll never make it back.” He warns but your shoulders shrug.
“I like those odds a hell of a lot better than risking a ride with you.” you snap, the suppressed shiver prevails as the rain intensifies, falling harder, faster, in cold, fat drops that slap against the pavement and blur the world around you.
Thunder rolls in the distance, low and ominous, and Rafe’s truck finally comes to a full stop as he pulls over. A second later, you hear his door slam shut, and when you glance back, he’s striding through the rain toward you, his face set in an exasperated glare.
“Are you done being difficult yet?” His voice cuts through the rain, his eyes locked on you, unyielding and determined. You hasten your pace, heading down the unpaved path towards the beach with Rafe trailing behind you with calls of your name.
This goes on for too long. The rain is relentless now, pouring down in thick sheets that chill you to the bone. Your vision was so distorted you could hardly see where you were going. You feel yourself starting to shiver, but you lift your chin, refusing to back down even as the storm rages around you.
A heavy hand holds you by the shoulder. “Jesus Christ, Y/n. You're gonna get yourself killed! The storm's just getting started-” he says, his exclamations punctuated with a bright bolt of lightning striking down not too far in the distance followed by a boisterous rumble of thunder.
"Shit!" You both curse before Rafe motions to the storage house up ahead, "We've gotta take shelter before shit goes south."
Even in life and death, your naturally skeptical nature overcomes you as you genuinely take the moment to consider the proposition. The rain was pummelling over the both of you, dripping down your faces, causing you both to squint, “Fine.”
For once there's no smugness in Rafe's expression. It's shielded by a look of relief, initially anticipating more resistance but he doesn’t say another word as you rush towards the shed and lock the doors shut.
The shed was spacious but dark. You took a step forward, or maybe a step back, but you weren't sure, almost instantly tripping over what you can only assume was a pale of some sort. You complain, "I can't see shit in here."
"Hang on," Rafe mumbles, followed by the indistinct sound of ruffled pockets and keys clinking together. The familiar spark of a lighter flicks a flame to life and gives you the light you've needed.
For a moment your eyes meet over the lighter. You clear your throat, looking around for something useful to keep the place lit, a gasp of relief falls from your lips as you locate a dusty lantern on the top shelf.
Raising yourself to the tip of your toes, your fingers are just barely grazing over the glass body of the object before a large hard, adorned with a few rings is already reaching over your head and bringing it down.
"I don't need your help." You snatch the lantern out of his grasp and it causes him to lose balance on the lighter in his left hand, the light goes out for a moment before he relights it.
"Can you ever be fucking grateful for once in your life? Would it kill you to say thank you?" He takes the lantern back and lights it, setting it down on the lower shelf.
"Why should I thank you? You're egotistical, narcissistic, selfish-" Your unfiltered rant is cut short by the pressure of his hand wrapped around your throat. You immediately try to move from him but the weight of his grip holds you in place.
"Selfish? Who's the one that made bail for you when you were caught trespassing in Tanny Hill?" Your brows furrow, "What? Shoupe said it was a wrongful arrest." He shakes his head, his hold around your neck loosens but you don't move it. "That was me. Who's the one that made sure you and those pogues made it off Dead Man's Island untouched when you'd stolen from them? Me."
You couldn't believe what you were hearing, "That doesn't change the fact you're still an asshole. I saw you tampering with my drink at the bar and I got upset then you threw it at my feet-- "That drink was roofied. I saw the bartender spike it," His hold tightened a little more, "Don't worry, I made sure he couldn't use his hands for a long time."
Your stomach was in knots, for once not in a way that made you seasick anytime you were with Rafe. This time was different, there was slight adoration building within you. His eyes were cold, hard, and protective. Without thinking you slinked your hand around the back of his neck and pulled him in for the first kiss of many.
The cold shed quickly filled with warmth as you familiarized yourselves with each other's bodies. Your clothes were now in the pale that tripped you earlier and Rafe's shirt was nowhere to be found, possibly hung up on the wall with the life jackets.
Rain lashes against the walls of the shed, a fierce, steady drumming that drowns out every other sound. The wind howls through the cracks, sharp and wild, whistling as it sweeps across the beach, sending gusts of sand and spray pelting against the flimsy structure.
The ruckus was the least of Rafe's concerns as he had you on your back on a pile of beach towels, moaning his name as he fingered you incessantly with his right hand, his left pinning your leg down to stop moving.
"R-Rafe!" Your vision begins to darken, and your heart rate picks up as you quickly stumble toward your high. The lewd sounds of your slick humiliated you, not because of what it was but because Rafe made you like this. You had Rafe Fucking Cameron between your legs and you loved it.
"Yeah? You got somethin' you wanna say?" He teases, his pace relentless and unforgiving as your body spasmed, your wetness covering his fingers as they stretched you open. The coolness of the metal rings adds a cold surprise with every glide.
"I'm-- fuck! Gonna-" You're interrupted by your own orgasm once Rafe accelerates to a pace that you couldn't handle without being blinded by the heavens. "You look so fucking pretty when you come" Rafe remarks, voice deep but a little unstable. Unsure how long he could maintain his composure.
Not long at all it seems.
The moment the bulbous head of his cock had caught in the ring of your wet heat, he sank himself into the hilt. "Shit-Shit- Shit!" A pained his scratches up the walls of his throat, not giving you a second to adjust. Your back arches off the towels, eyes glossy as they stare up at Rafe whose eyes are screwed shut, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as soft grunts fall from his lips.
His eyes open to look down at you, entranced with every movement on your face, looking for any signs to slow down, but your legs wrap around his waist to pull him closer. He groans at the extra depth he reaches within your velvet walls. He lowers himself down, dropping teasing kisses on your lips, the some behind your ear, down the side of your neck and you were sick of his antics.
Looping your fingers under his chain you pull him close to you once again, locking your lips with his. The kiss is messy, unrestrained and dangerously intimate for a pogue and a kook to share. "Can't get enough of you," He whispers against your lips, his thrusts slowing down and dragging slower making everything feel deeper.
"Why'd you have to be such a douchebag." You pout between kisses and he chuckles, "Maybe I wouldn't have to be if you weren't such an ungrateful brat." He snaps his hips on impulse causing you to gasp.
"I'm n-not-" You were losing your train of thought and Rafe couldn't concentrate on anything more than the immense wave of pleasure that was breaking down over him.
"Not what? Huh?" You were unable to speak, the coil in your core rapidly igniting, about to snap. Rafe didn't need to hear you say it to know you were close. "Come on, baby. Give it to me. Give me all you got." His gruff tone combined with the pet name had you unravelling beneath him and he came moments later, pulling out and pumping his cum on your stomach.
He kept you warm on the towels, his larger frame wrapped up with yours. You both refused to acknowledge what had just happened when-- "Oh Shit!" You jolt up, rushing to the pale where your clothes had been displaced and you rummage through the pockets of your shorts to find the map that caused all this.
"What's wrong?" You ignore his question once you have the map in your hands, It's still folded, but soaked. You carefully opened it and the ink was partially illegible, but you could still make out some of the words.
"Is that what I think it is?" Rafe asks and you nod slowly, "The map to Kraken's Rest? It was. The rain washed it out." Rafe takes a closer look at the map, asking where you'd gotten this from.
"I.. borrowed it from the museum." You lie. "You don't have to lie to me, I know you stole this-- Did you get it off the display?" You nod, and he tosses the map carelessly into the pale.
Suddenly you remembered why you didn't get along. "What are you doing I need that." You're about to retrieve it when he speaks up. "Museums rarely put the real shit out for the public. All the authentic artifacts are kept in the Kildare vaults."
The good news puts a smile on your face before reality wipes it off, "How am I supposed to get in there unnoticed? They'll catch me before I even make it to the door."
Rafe grins as if the sequence of events has worked itself out too perfectly. "I'm on the guest list for their upcoming exhibit charity gala. The vaults are fingerprint-protected, and I know a guy who's got access. The event is pretty high-profile so I know he'll be there. I can lift his prints and pass them to you during the night so you can get to the vault..."
It sounded like a good plan but how would Rafe get prints to you-- He continues, "But if the plan is gonna work, you'll have to come with me. As my plus one." He's unable to mask the small tug on his lips at the offer and you smile.
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celeryw · 1 year ago
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good thing about this weather is if you start on non-nudist beach and you walk for an hour and a half and end up on the nude beach part there isn't anyone there bc it's 15 degrees
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whorefordean · 3 months ago
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fetch r.c
rafe cameron x reader
enjoy this thing inspired by a tiktok i just saw
summary: reader makes rafe play fetch to find her ring after a fight
unedited//not proofread
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you and rafe had been arguing for the better part of an hour. it had started when rafe refused to take the weekend off for your anniversary after promising that he was yours for the next three days.
"rafe, please. you've been on the phone for two hours," you grumble, tapping your foot impatiently as you cross your arms. rafe waves his hand dismissively as he continues to argue with one of the guys he works with.
oh, hell no.
"rafe, seriously. hang up the fucking phone. he won't leave you alone if he knows you're just gonna answer every time he calls," you say, louder this time in hopes that the guy on the phone can hear.
"not now, baby. i'm busy. goddamn," rafe grumbles between sentences. you groan, stomping towards his desk and jerking the phone out of his hand.
"listen, asshole. mr. cameron is busy with mrs. cameron for the weekend so call someone else," you speak angrily into the cellphone before hanging up and tossing it aside.
rafe watches you, fuming, and he stands up abruptly. he tries to move around you to get to his phone, most likely to call back his worker, but you grab his arm.
"i'm asking for one weekend, rafe. three fuckin days of your undivided attention," you grumble. rafe shrugs you off.
"i'm fuckin busy! stop actin like a clingy bitch!" rafe yells in frustration. you clench your jaw, shoving by him. you make your way through the house, stepping out onto the back porch that overlooks the beach.
you can hear rafe following behind you. he knows what you're about to do, and he's already grumbling about it. it's damn near routine for this exact thing to happen every time the two of you fight.
"come on. don't do this today. please," rafe says, his tone less angry and more defeated now. you slip your ring off and look directly at rafe as you launch it onto the beach.
"have fun," you say, gesturing for him to go find it.
"you can't be serious right now," rafe grunts, crossing his arms.
"don't ever talk to me like that again," you scold your husband while pointing a finger at him. he sighs and nods.
"m sorry, baby," rafe mumbles, resting his hands on your hips and pressing a kiss to your cheek. you reach up and pat his cheek.
"you should be. find my ring then we'll talk," you tell him with a smile. rafe pouts before kissing you again.
"yes ma'am," he mumbles and sets off into the sand to find your ring.
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dont-fucning-look-at-this · 2 years ago
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Sand castle
Our sand-castle-buckets jostle as we trudge down the road,
We quickly pass the old lady’s house with the pond with the toad,
It’s quaint and frilly, drenched in pastel pink with a fairy garden,
She gasps while we giggle, shock laced into her “pardon?”
And next to her house is a big blue veranda,
It belongs to a small elderly woman named Miranda,
She chases us away with a bright red shovel,
She calls us “hooligan vagabonds” who should know when to “grovel”
We pass their houses and many more,
We pass the t-shirt artists and small trinket stores,
We pass the homeless man who sleeps on the sand,
And an old hippie who’s hair never stays in his pink head band
And when we reach the end of our five minute walk,
We stare at her expanse in never ending shock,
At the beauty this blue eyed body carry’s,
That used to house brown haired women in suits with bright red cherries,
She sways side to side in never ending motion,
Child us sitting still, alone with the ocean.
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mr-jack-letterman · 4 months ago
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We need more young stan content out here.
And nah I ain't talking about 12 year old Stanley or 30 year old mullet Stan, I'm talking 17 year old, slicked back hair, acne riddled Stan pines.
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Yeah that one.
I am so happy mullet Stan is so popular because his fit slaps ngl and the angst is so potent I can't not respect it. But teenage Stan has so much potential it's driving me insane.
There is a line dividing the 17 years of relative happiness Stan had with Ford and the 10+ years of depression and crime he had on the streets, and teenage Stan uses that line as a goddamn jump rope.
Seriously, depending on how you look at it dude is either living his best life or is fighting for said life in the trenches of homelessness and poverty.
I see a lot of content regarding Stan on the streets but it only ever focuses on 30ish Stan in his later years of homelessness where he's already a hardened adult after years of dealing with this bullshit. But Stan didn't just drive away and then magically turn 30. There were times in those first few months after Stan got kicked out where he was in his car, trying to sleep, probably starving, while still being fundamentally a child.
Hell, compared to the 30ish age of mullet Stan and the 60+ year old con man he'd later become, teenage Stan is damn near a baby. There's a certain brightness about him, a sort of warm naive optimism that still clings to him because he's straight up just too young to know any better.
He's still fully convinced he's gonna make it rich and go back to his family in a few years. He still believes wholeheartedly that even if shit sucks right now, eventually everything is gonna be okay. It has to be. But it's not gonna be okay. It's not gonna be okay for a long time. And some parts are just never gonna be okay.
Seeing a happy and oblivious teenage Stan feels like watching a baby lamb walk into a slaughter house.
The next 10-something years are going to tear him apart limb from limb. In 40 years he's going to wake up on a boat during a bout of amnesia thinking he's in Columbian prison, or he's locked in the trunk of a car and about to drown, or his shoulder is on fire and his brother is gone, or it's the end of the world and everyone he ever dared to give a shit about is about to die in front of him and it's all his fault because he was too weak to stop it.
At some point, a young Stanley is going to get into his first true life or death fight. He doesn't even have to be involved with crime yet for it to happen. He's probably bruised and bleeding, with not nearly enough money to afford a doctor. He's sitting in the driver's seat of his El Diablo having a complete and utter break down because he almost died and suddenly everything is real.
Nothing is okay, absolutely nothing is going to be okay and whatever is left of his teenage innocence, naivety, and warmth dies in that car and it never comes back.
The next 10+ years are going to fundamentally change Stanley as a person and he's never going to be the same ever again. But teenage Stan doesn't know that, he's still a kid trying to sleep in the back of his car, ignoring hunger pangs and finding comfort in the half baked business ideas his mind cooks up because he doesn't understand how utterly done for he is.
12 year old Stanley I believe is so appealing because of his bright rambunctious spirit. He's still just a kid playing on the beach with his brother, but so was teenage Stan. I just wish the wholesomeness that comes with that and the subsequent hurt that follows as that spirit is broken over and over again by the world was explored more.
Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.
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